Dance of Death (Pt. III)

Well, my skill in analysis wasn't without fail, at least. I now knew what Tarael was, which would make it easier to understand what he wanted. Liches sought power, and control, and it was no secret that they often wanted to use the control on everything around him. Part of me wondered if he had control over the inhabitants of the graveyard. He didn't strike me as a necromancer, but I couldn't take chances.

"You are very bright, little Wizard. Not many would have guessed to ask for my phylactery, let alone know what one is." He ended his words with a slight drop in pitch, clearly... angry about that little fact. "I am indeed a Lich, and judging by the widening in your eyes, and the way your pupils have contracted quite rapidly, you have never seen one of my sort before." He set his teacup down, and I did not dare to think where all the tea went. Instead, Tarael stood up, crossing over to behind the sofa and placing a hand over my shoulder. I shivered immediately, having not expected him to be so cold. (One would think that by now I would have come to expect it, but you never do get used to someone being as cold as their surroundings.) "Now there, do not shudder so much," He placed his hand closer to my neck, and I jumped, causing my teacup to clatter, spilling the entire contents all over my lap. The cup itself was sent clanging through several butterfingered attempts to grab it, finally stabilizing the damned thing after several tries. However, the tea was lost... all over my robes.

"To think, I was just about to ask you not to jump so much, you would spill your tea." As he stood behind me, I could not see his face, but somehow, I think that he might have been smiling, for in that next instant, he walked away from me, and started filling a basin with water. "Come now, get out of those robes."

"Wh-what? ... E-excuse me, Herr Tarael?" My eyes widened, and I started shivering, the tea might have started warm, but the crypt was cold, and the liquid soon chilled against my skin, leaving me colder than before.

"You heard me, Little Wizard. Remove your robes, I'll wash these and give you some spares, but you have tea everywhere on yourself. I daren't let you walk around tea-stained all evening!" I was going to protest, but in the instant that I was trying to find my words, an unseen hand yanked my robes clean off! (And I do mean unseen, apparently our Lich was a Mage when he was alive!) "Now then, I presume you have enough sensibility to remove your own undergarments, or must I do that for you as well? Ah! The water is warm enough for you. Remove the rest, and get in." I stared at Tarael for a few seconds, utterly horrified. However, I did exactly as he asked, almost a little afraid to disobey. I removed everything save for my gloves, and scarf that hid my bandages, stepping into the water.

Really, it was heavenly. The water was hot enough to relax my muscles, and to let some of the dirt just fall away, but not so hot as to burn me. I could even feel my aching hands relax and loosen up on their usual pain. I noticed a washcloth at the edge of the basin, and started scrubbing off each bit of dirt from my adventures. However, this did not last for long, as I felt the cloth being snatched away from me by a group of bony fingers. As opposed to my own fast scrubbing, Tarael glided the cloth over my skin, slowly, gently, but with that purpose and determination that he had in everything he did. I shivered when he placed another hand along my back, tracing a couple of the scars that I had recieved from battles.

"I recall when I was just a bit older than you," Mused Tarael, still tracing each scar. With each movement of his fingers, I could feel a strange new sensation in my back. Not the usual sensation of being touched, but an almost fiery feeling that burned through my body. How strange, for his hands were so cold! "I had adventures as well. We became great heroes, and helped many people. My friends are all buried in different parts of the world, however, and I doubt I shall never see then again. I was... the only one to seek immortality in its truest form." I felt his fingers go from my back to the back of my neck, undoing the tight knots of my scarf and letting the fabric fall away. Oh, the surprise and fear in his eyes when he saw the bloodied bandages that lie beneath nearly broke my heart!

Instead, he murmured a few spells, letting the bandages fall away and exposing the slashes that dug deep into my neck. "How fortunate you are that you did not lose your beautiful voice. These wounds just missed your throat, you know. Even more fortunate that you did not cut a vein. Let me clean these for you." Another invocation, and the water in the basin cleared. Instead, my entire body started to tingle. He saturated the cloth, pressing it against my neck. Fire seemed to permeate the wounds, but after it faded, they seemed far less pained to the touch. "Such a poor little thing," He crooned, resting his lips dangerously close to my ear. Only then did I get a true feel for his 'voice'. Even though he could not have used his actual vocal cords, his voice still sounded like he had been gargling broken glass! Raspy, deep, but with a strange silky quality that I dare not describe. His 'voice' may have come from his throat through spellwork, but the breathless sound still unnerved me. "Dare I even ask what sort of conditions you were in before I found you, Little Wizard? Oh, a daughter of nobility, and yet you are so far away from home. So... so far away. I should wonder, do you know what I was? My family who has a long history of fiendish pacts, and how power flows through our veins with the blood... even if my blood does not run anymore. Oh, my Little Wizard, you would do well to fear me. But! That does not mean you should. I... I will not harm you, of course." He took my head in his hands, palms at my temples, as elongated fingers circled my head. It was a terrible feeling, as I knew that with as much as a thought, he could kill me where I stood. "Oh... but you mustn't fear me, I mean you no harm-- why do you give me that horrified stare? Please, do not look at me in such ways." He removed one hand, placing the first behind my head, and letting the other rest on my back. I felt the strange sensation of being held, as he kept my head against his chest.

How strange, had anyone else advanced towards me in this manner, I would have been far too terrified, and run away immediately, but with Tarael, I did not feel as strong of a desire to run. He terrified me, but I felt comfortable enough to stay. Is it because he was so amiable?

"What a strange creature you are, Little Wizard. You are so fearful, I can feel the fear radiating off of you. Yet you do not run from me? You accept your place in my home, and you do not try to fight me? How... fortunate I am then! To think, I have a lovely, living little creature all to myself to now!" Tarael took up the washcloth once again, soaking it in the water and washing off the rest of the dirt. I hated to admit it, but traveling never allowed me to wash as often as I wanted to. Even though I remained self-conscious and hated being seen, much of me couldn't help but be grateful at finally receiving a bath- and a warm one at that!

"Of course, I... I could not act out in fear against someone who treats me with such hospitality?" To think! Even my statements were beginning to sound like questions! My voice continued to shake, and the rest of me followed suit. Instead, I sunk under the water, taking solace in the heat. Tarael merely laughed at me, going about the room and preparing a few things. I dared not watch him, simply scrubbing the dirt out of my hair.

"A wise answer, Little Wizard. Now then, you have been soaking long enough. Come now, up with you!" His thin hands gripped right under my arms, plucking me cleanly from the basin. I shivered quite madly, all of the cold from before returning tenfold! I really did dislike this crypt, and its terrible coldness! All the worse, I looked up just in time to see Tarael's lifeless eyes darting about my entire body, clearly getting a close look at my unclad form. "Dear me. Your robes are dirty, and I fear you would die of the cold if I kept you naked. Come, I might have some robes for you." He placed me on the sofa again, and I immediately curled up on the cushions the best I could, trying to simultaneously cover my naked form, and find warmth by curling up. It... didn't go well. I couldn't have been more relieved when he returned, holding various yards of cloth.

"Here, this should help you, at least a bit." He knelt at my side, carefully tying up a white skirt, made of a slightly thicker material than his own. In turn, he held out another purple sash. "I... had this one when I was alive, you know. Please be careful with it." At this, he wrapped the long material around my chest and shoulders, then pulling it over my waist and tying it, perhaps a little too tightly. I did not mind the constriction, but once again, I couldn't help but notice those lifeless eyes studying me quite intently again.

"That is... perfect." Only then did I notice the cheery irony in his voice, I looked down, noticing that we looked near-identical in outfits. White robe-skirts, purple sashes (mine as a top, his hanging limply over his left shoulder), and our respective phylacteries hung around our necks.

'Perfect' indeed. How I often forgot the vanity of powerful beings.