Epilogue

  For Kori, it all started long ago on a summer morning in the garden.

  It was early. The sun had yet to rise over the house and bake the back rose garden. This was the perfect hour to enjoy the new blooms and water the parched plants that ringed the marble fountain and bloomed along the back wall. Kori was making his way down the walkway with his watering tin in hand when he found a small, dark heap underfoot. He paused and stooped down to find that it was a dead starling.

  Kori hovered over it for a long moment the way most ten-year-olds would. The poor thing looked half mauled by the gardener’s cat before being left to rot under the summer sun. It was so caked with blood and dirt that he could no longer see the shine of its feathers. For a moment, he wondered if he should move it, but he thought better of touching something so dirty.

  Still, he wanted to do something for it. Something kind. He recalled how the dead were often bathed before being laid to rest and, before he knew what he was doing, he was pouring clean water over the little corpse. He told himself he would insist the gardener give it a proper burial, but in his heart, he wished that this simple bath would undo its sad fate.

  And that’s when the magic first happened.

  Suddenly the water had a light in it as it poured out of the metal can. It washed over the tiny corpse and that same blue light bloomed in its remaining dull eye. The body twitched hard and the sight made Kori jump back. The water splashed and the last wave brought the bird fluttering back to its feet. One wing was clearly broken, hanging lifeless at its side, and patches of feathers and flesh were still absent along its belly, but otherwise the bird looked up at him calmly and curiously. It seemed completely oblivious to it’s injuries.

  “Hell-oo,” Kori said with a shuddering breath. He tried to tell himself that the bird was only faking death or lying still to catch its strength. But the eerie blue light that faintly shimmered in its good eye told him differently.

  That bird had been dead and now it was not. Staring up, it seemed to be waiting on him now, as if it were beholden to him for this new life.

  Kori didn’t know what to do with it. He looked about to see if anyone was around but the back rose garden was always quiet at this hour. His father’s servants were inside preparing breakfast and his tutor would be expecting him soon. He looked back to the little bird and wondered if it’s body would mend or if it was like this forever now. A sharp pang of guilt ran through his heart as he watched its wing drag on the ground and blood drip from between its legs. He immediately knew he was responsible for it.

  “Okay, come with me,” he said at length. The bird continued to stare as if waiting for something. Kori wondered if it knew any commands. He tried tapping his shoulder and telling it to ‘come’. Miraculously, the little bird hopped up his arm and perched like a long-time pet.

  Kori told him he was a good boy as he quietly made his way inside the house and up to his room. There he bade his new friend stay while he snuck back down for dry bread and a little fresh water. Once the bird had everything it could want, he went back to his daily schedule and waited for his father to come home. He would know what to do about this. Kori was sure of it.

  Chapter 1

  ???

  20 years later.

  ???

  “You don’t look like a magician.”

  Snow looked up from his thoughts to find the next applicant already easing down into the grimy seat across from him, but not before gesturing to a passing waitress for an ale. The drink was on him, of course. Necessary expenses, Snow told himself. Still, he couldn’t help the tight scowl that marred his face and briefly turned his ice blue eyes to daggers.

  “I get that a lot,” he replied calmly.

  It was true. Snow dressed more like a wealthy merchant than a magician. He loved the finer things; a lingering habit from an earlier life on the coast growing up in a rich household. He almost never frequented such ‘rustic’ accommodations as this back-alley tavern.

  His boots were handmade, as was his long jacket, and the elegant sword that hung at his hip seemed made for more gentlemanly combat than the chaos of war. His black leather gloves received an odd glance from the new interviewee. Likely because he was still wearing them despite the plate of dinner and a half-drunk glass of wine sitting before him.

  “But you are one, right?” the man asked as he started to settle.

  “Correct,” Snow replied dryly. He hoped the man had more brains than this. He was in the market for a bodyguard, not a dumb wall of muscle. The applicant across from him could definitely pass for the latter. He was almost a full head taller with broad shoulders and thick arms. There was a sword on his back that would require some hefting on Snow’s part. The magician hoped it wasn’t just for show.

  “So, do you turn into anything? A wolf? A snake?” the man asked with a wide grin. That was a first for Snow; not just the odd question but the grin. Every other applicant had been as serious as the grave and did nothing but boast of their own feats.

  After a moment, Snow replied. “No.”

  “But you control the elements, right?” The man bent forward now with one elbow propped on the table so he could lean his square jaw against his hand. It was the posture of a toddler listening to the local storyteller weave an engrossing tale.

  “On occasion,” Snow’s brow knitted as he continued to answer. Normally, names were exchanged by now along with a demanded price. He sat back for a moment as he continued to try and figure out if there was more to this odd character.

  “You do spells and stuff?” the man gestured with the other hand as if spells were something that required one to wave their hand around in the air.

  “Are you going somewhere with this?” Snow finally broke in. “Usually, I ask the questions”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  “Just wondering why you need a bodyguard,” the man shrugged as he said it. By then the waitress had dropped a pint before him, which seemed to pull a new grin across his face. Snow suddenly had the feeling that the man only sat down to satisfy his curiosity and score free drinks. If it weren’t for the sword on his back, Snow would have ended the interview right there. He didn’t care for games. He certainly didn't care to play them in this smoke choked tavern over a plate of overcooked food.

  “Don’t all evil villains need henchmen?” Snow said in irritation as he watched the man chug a third of the drink down in one go. After the pint came back down with a clack, the swordsman gave Snow a long, unnerving scan with what were surprisingly kind looking hazel eyes. The look was suddenly sober despite all the childish questions.

  “You don’t look like a villain either,” he said with another shrug. “More like some puffy, golden-headed prince.”

  Snow scoffed at the description. “Tell that to the people who would rather not see me offering my services around the countryside,” he replied as he reached for his wine.

  “And what is your trade?”

  It was Snow’s turn to take a long drought before speaking. “Resurrection.”

  Snow had already seen half a dozen would-be strong men and most, it seemed, had already been hired as thugs or henchmen in the past. All they asked about was the pay and travel. They didn’t seem to care if he was a magician, vampire, or bloodless demon hiring them. He could have been a slimy sea serpent still munching on the raw flank of some unlucky sailor and half of them wouldn’t have bat an eye so long as he paid well.

  Magician seeks bodyguard – fair pay – must travel. That was all he had posted among the many inns and taverns throughout the old city of Erbin. Applicants were to come to the Underwall Tavern along the city’s southern ramparts, but such a posting also garnered a few who came only to gawk or beg for favors. Most of the latter he couldn’t help.

  Snow didn’t make love potions or grant immortality, at least not the kind people desired, and he would not facilitate the selling of souls for demon gifts – no matter how much coin was on the table. (The last demon he called still knows his name and would likely be the first to show up.) And while some said they only wanted information; Snow had learned long ago that knowledge unearned was rarely used well. There were many magical places and beings in this world, and most didn’t care for visitors – especially those who don’t know how to behave.

  “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to know who I’m speaking with,” Snow asked before the questions could continue.

  “Titus Helm, and you?”

  “My name is Snow, Korvinian Snow.”

  “Snow, eh? … I suppose it’s not too popular… your trade,” Titus commented as he started to slowly sip the remainder of his ale.

  “That depends on who you ask,” Snow replied, “what if I told you that you could have one more hour with your recently lost father, or have a chance to say goodbye to your mother who died while you were traveling?”

  Titus considered it for a moment. “So, you don’t raise undead armies to conquer the world?”

  It was Snow’s turn to smirk, “no.”

  “But isn’t it…,” Titus was reaching for a word. Snow knew many. He’d heard them time and again.

  “Gruesome? Unholy? Blasphemous?”

  Titus tilted his head, “… yeah.”

  “I don’t think it’s any of those things, but regardless, you’re not going to be present for it. I’ll expect you to wait outside the room,” Snow replied.

  Titus shrugged. “Still, I’d like to know what I’m getting into here.”

  Snow sighed and began, “I only raise those that have recently passed. They can’t be dead for more than a week and I can only repair a certain amount of damage. Most of those I resurrect died of an illness or a less-violent death like drowning. I rarely resurrect them for more than a day. My service is not to reverse death, but to give a small second chance at closure. And I draw a line at the very young. Their souls are not strong enough to pass back and forth.”

  “But… those people paying you are in mourning… aren’t you just exploiting that?” Titus crossed his arms over his broad chest.

  Snow had defended his trade numerous times, but he was faintly surprised that he needed to do so to a hired sword. None of the others took exception but neither did they try to riddle out why a magician wanted a bodyguard. Perhaps this man was worth the trouble, Snow thought. And perhaps good hires required a little more than simply offering good pay.

  In response to Titus, he discreetly gestured around the room. “Many of these people enjoy a good drink.” He then nodded to the barkeep. “Is the bartender exploiting that desire or just providing it?” He let the question hang a moment before adding. “Besides, what about those untimely deaths, or murder? Wouldn’t you want to know who killed your brother or if a death was truly an accident? Many questions can be answered with a few extra hours.”

  Titus glanced around as he seemed to mull over the idea. In the dim light, Snow noticed a set of scars on the side of the man’s neck. He took a second to try and place them. Most might have mistaken them for an animal bite, but Snow knew an old vampire wound when he saw one. It was a neat and delicate bite. A female. A female who liked him.

  “I’ll make you a deal. Take the job and if your conscious or your gut starts to twist after the first appointment, I’ll give you fair pay for the time spent and terminate the contract.” Snow then sat back with his wine to see if those big arms would untangle.

  “First tell me why you really need a bodyguard,” he replied.

  “Fair enough,” Snow sat the empty wine glass down before continuing, “obviously, the high god's church takes a dim view of what I do, but the local priest isn’t the problem. The problem is a particular group of righteous zealots who are known for hunting the evil creatures of this world. They happen to consider me one of those monsters.”

  “Imagine that,” Titus smirked. Snow ignored the comment.

  “I’ve been able to stay ahead of them all this time, but they’ve become even more hypocritical these days by starting to employ some of the very same magic they deem evil. It has made them more of a nuisance than before. And, obviously, I cannot give my service the serious attention it requires if I am always looking over my shoulder. I want someone to watch my back while I’m working.”

  Snow waited for his answer. When it didn’t come, he decided to move the conversation along with another question. “Is there anything else you want to know?”

  “How far do you travel?”

  Snow started to have faith again that this might not have been a complete waste. “From shore to shore, and to the edge of the Tyrian mountains.”

  “I won’t have to dig up any graves, will I?” Titus raised a curious brow with the question.

  Snow smirked. “No.”

  There was another long pause before Titus said, “Okay, I’ll take the deal, Snowflake.” He then outstretched his hand across the table to shake on it.

  “Good,” Snow replied as he reached forward to give the man’s massive hand a brief but solid shake. “And it’s Snow,” he corrected Titus with a brief scowl before settling back.

  Titus smirked in reply before taking up his ale again and promptly signaling to the waitress for a refill.

  “And if there’s one more puffy-prince reference,” Snow continued, “you might find yourself in that graveyard after all… understood?” Snow scowled to show that he meant it, but the threat only garnered a sly grin from his new bodyguard.

  “Sure thing, your majesty.”

  Snow began to wonder if he had made a mistake.

  Resurrection for Sale. The serial story will launch fully on January 1st.