Necromantic
Necromantic
By BunnyBoy
This story and the characters in it are copyrighted to BunnyBoy.
Warning the story contains violence and material of a sexual nature between males. So if your too young or easily offended please go no further. Thank you for reading and please enjoy
As the moon reached its apex, it shone across the lake, outlining the large barge that had appeared seemingly from nowhere. On the deck of the barge two massive braziers burned brightly, between them a robed siamese cat reclined in a massive ornate throne, at his feet sat a teenaged white mouse boy.
As the villagers gathered to watch from the shore a small boat separated from the barge and rowed ashore. An old and bowed badger in a stained and tattered robe climbed from the small rowboat and waded his way to shore. The badger smiled and looked on the gathered crowd as he spoke, "My good people." His voice is sweet and regal despite his look, "My good people I come with a wonderful offer." His arm sweeps back, so that the barge is taken in by the gesture, "My master is conquering this great land piece by piece, and he has come here with his powerful army. He offers you a great chance now, a small mercy I've rarely seen him offer before. Surrender immediately and your village will survive intact. He will take a small tribute from you only and leave someone to govern in his stead but he promises none of your soldiers or young will be pressed into service, there will no rape or pillaging of this village, he will merely pass on." At this point the badger's honeyed words became hard, "However, if you choose to reject this kindness and fight... well in that case I promise that any of you who fight against this army will die horribly, and I cannot promise the killing will stop with the fighters."
The villagers were clearly shaken by the stranger's speech, but they stood resolute and defiant. A tall horse, carrying a heavy hammer in one hand, stepped forward. "Ha!" he shouted, "A mighty army indeed. That tub out there couldn't hold more then a dozen men, and I'm more then a match for that number myself."
The badger just smiled and nodded to the horse, "You are right dear sir, my master's barge could not hold his army. In fact there is not a single soul on board that ship other then my master and his personal slave. How ever the army is real. Am I to take from your tone that you refuse his generous offer?" As the badger's words died down, there was a disturbance on the water. It was only slight, just a movement where there shouldn't have been any. Moments later something broke the surface, a rusty helm followed quickly by its owner. Water gushed out of empty eye sockets as the rotting bloated face rose into view. The villagers recoiled in horror as all along the shore others marched into view. Most every species imaginable was found in the seemingly endless ranks of the dead. Some were old and worm eaten, others seemed fresh and newly dead, if a bit bloated and fish-nibbled from their time in the water. Most were weighted down with armor, others simply had loops of chain wound about their body to help with their aquatic march, but all of them were armed. This was not however the slow shambling of the mindless undead, these solders marched with purpose. In unison the first ranks of the undead horde raised their weapons and gargled a terrifying war cry before charging into the huddled mass of villagers.
From his place on deck the feline necromancer simply watched the commotion on shore through half lidded eyes. He shifts position on his throne, idly letting a claw play with the intricate work of woven bones that make up his seat. The battle raged on as the villagers fought past their horror and struck back at the undead army. Bored already and trusting to his generals, the sourcerous feline turned his attention to the mouse at his feet. "Miekal," he sighed, the words coming soft slow and lazy, "I'm tired of this spectacle; I feel there are greater diversions I could indulge in at the moment." The cat looked down at the naked mouse slave. The boy's white fur fairly gleamed in the moonlight.
The mouse nods and knows what is expected of him. "Yes master," he murmurs before his paws seek the bindings of the great cat's robe. The mouse turns his back on the sounds of battle, the clash of steel, the screams of the dead and the dying. His whole world lies before him. When the master performs magic his arousal is nothing short of magnificent. Miekal leans in, gently licking his way along the cat's throbbing shaft. His tender tongue tracing a path from those cum laden balls up to the seeping head of the kitty cock. Without hesitation the young mouse engulfs the head of his master's mighty staff, suckling like a starving babe.
Though the villagers on shore have no idea what is happening, the fighters notice a marked difference in the zombie horde. Their movements have become quicker, livelier, and they seem to fight with a greater ferocity than was first witnessed when they crawled onto the shore. The dead warriors' terrifying screams grow louder and louder as their master's pleasure builds, his passion funneled into their own efforts.
Miekal slowly bobs along the pulsing shaft in his muzzle, his fingers massaging the cat's hanging jewels as he worships his master's pleasure. The cat moans out loud, his paws resting on the arms of his throne, his eyes closed tightly as he basks in his own delights. The younger mouse feathers his tongue along the underside of his master's shaft, tracing along the vein, which will soon pulse with the fruits of his labors. With a wild yowl the necromancer climaxes, in a heady burst of power and pleasure he floods the pretty young mouse's muzzle with his thick juices. The slave isn't immune to the moment either and he can feel his master's release pouring over him. The shear power of it triggers the mouse's own orgasm. Spilling his seed across the deck of the ship even as he greedily drinks down every drop the cat can offer.
On shore the peculiar ferocity with which the dead had fought dies away. The decaying horde's motions once more become precise and measured as they move on the defenders. However, the bizarre sight of the impassioned dead relentlessly throwing themselves against the defenders had decimated the village's warriors, and destroyed their moral.
Knowing the battle is won, the necromancer leads the young slave away, back to his bedchamber. During the mop up of the village two more strange pulses of passion fill the troops, leading them to easily overwhelm the last vestiges of resistance as the master beds his slave.
As daylight breaks the Siamese conqueror makes his way ashore. His path is not the undignified trip in a small rowboat like that of his seneschal, the badger, instead with the nameless necromancer seated at his throne, the whole of the barge moves ashore. It slowly rises from the water step by step and those onlookers still amongst the living gape in awe and horror. The barge itself was built into the back of a massive turtle, the foul stench of decay seeps out from the gaps in the beast's armor as the massive dead thing plods its way ashore.
Miekal waits patently near the village's meeting hall, naked to the world but for a few strips of clothe that do nothing to cover his form. He knows his master likes to make these entrances as showy as possible. A simple display of power to crush any last spark of resistance the defeated might still harbor. As the master approaches the young mouse quickly inspects the new troops. He pays particular attention to a large horse, the spear shafts broken off in his gut don't seem to concern the mouse; it's the deep gash to the corpse's left arm. He hopes the bone is undamaged, if that limb has been destroyed it will limit the man's usefulness.
As the cheloan behemoth reaches the village center the cat gracefully leaps from the beast's dead head. He makes his way over to his dedicated slave and whispers his order. "Report!" Though it was said as a whisper the necromancer's words are clearly heard.
"Yes master," says the mouse with a short bow before continuing. "Thirteen of your men were damaged beyond recovery, however we have gained thirty-two fresh recruits so far. We are still searching for dead and wounded so that number may go up. Plus, we haven't even raided the cemetery yet. It is estimated there are maybe one hundred to one hundred fifty still alive here in the village sire. Most of these are very old or very young; however the village should be able to bounce back from this with your protection."
From the side the old badger glares at the mouse slave. While at first he was glad to have someone there to lighten his own load, lately the master began to shower more and more affection on the little slip of a boy. He growls under his breath, the boy was welcome to the cat's sexual appetites, while the badger sampled the fruits of the village's maids. The mouse was taking on more and more of the seneschal's duties, and stealing his chances to curry favor with the master. With a grim smile the old badger decides that now may be the best time to make his farewell.
Miekal leads the great cat on a tour of the newly conquered town, inspecting its people and resources. On the outskirts of the town they come across the village's last bastion of resistance. A squat little church, dedicated to some higher god. There must still be a priest there somewhere since the ground is still holy and the necromancer's minions are kept at bay.
The mouse stops on the edge of the sacred ground. His master winces momentarily at the nearness of such divine attention. "Your generals estimate there are maybe twenty souls inside that building, sire. Mostly women and small children but no substantial threat," says the mouse without looking back to his master. Behind the great cat his ghastly generals nod in agreement. Their translucent forms seem a dull green, and reflect how they had looked in life. Their armor is unmarred, their fur unblemished, but beneath that faint illusion of life you can just make out the festering skeletal rot that lies inside.
The dark necromancer contemplates what to do about this threat. A small back water god such as this temple might have could not possible be any great threat to him, but the pages of history are filled with the bones of conquerors who had made this very mistake. He turns to his generals, the order to call for archers, rags and lamp oil on his lips when he catches Miekal's eye. The young mouse knows just what his order will be, and the cat can see in his eyes just how much it will hurt him to do it.
The slave is so very different then himself. A truly good soul, a little tarnished by his time under the necromancer but a kind heart nonetheless. Despite his general distaste for the living the great cat would not want to see those pretty eyes filled with such pain. "Bring jugs of water and food, as well as one or two surrendered prisoners to carry them to the church. Miekal you will lead them to the church and deliver a message. Under my rule you will be free to worship, as you like. Come out now, for the killing has ended."
Startled the mouse beams up at his master. He almost merrily scampers to the church, prisoners and supplies in tow. The cat smiles to seem him go. It's a small risk but the look on the boy's face was well worth it.
As he waits he summons archers and jugs of oil, just in case those inside reject his generous offer. Or worse yet harm the boy. The cat can't help but daydream back to the time when he had first found the mouse. Back then his power was still great but he had not begun his great march on the throne of the world. He was quietly building his army and biding his time. It was during this period he was scavenging a decimated village, but the deaths were not his doing. One of the barbarian tribes of the north had come raiding, those they had not killed they had carried away as slaves. There was little left in the village but the dead, and that suited the cat just fine. He'd been quietly gathering his forces from dozens of such battlefields in the past few months.
His trusty senchel inspected the dead and gathered those fit to be soldiers, and gathered up any cast-off weapons the master could use or any pretty bauble he could find for himself. Meanwhile, the great cat wandered the village. One small hut caught his eye. It was a smaller building made of stone, there were no windows and the door was warded shut with some form of powerful hedge magics. Curious as to what might be so valuable to warrant that degree of protection the necromancer easily breached the seals.
As light flooded the small room there was a startled cry from inside. The sunlight fell on a naked young mouse boy. Suddenly understanding dawned on the cat. The boy was to be the village's sacrificial god. Raised in the darkness of the hut till he was of age, taught only by the villages holy men, would be trotted forth during a great spring festival and celebrated, worshiped as a god. Then at the height of the festival the boy would be ritually murdered. There was a lot of power in a sacrifice like that, no doubt the villagers hoped to draw some small god with it in order to gain favor and protection.
"Sir," stammers the boy eyes focused only on the cat. "Who are you? What is that brightness? Is the old one coming today? He has missed a number of meal times." The words flow from the boy like a brook, he'd never spoken to anyone but the old man who taught and fed him. Now that he had it was almost like he wanted to get the words out before his inevitable punishment began.
The cat silently studies the boy, He could be useful. Even with out the bloody sacrifice there was power to be had here. "Your old one is gone," he murmurs, "You will come with me now child. I shall name you and you shall be mine. I give you the name of Miekal. Now come and follow me, you shall begin your training."
As the mouse followed the large man back into the heart of the village, he stares at the number of corpses strewn about, but he feels neither revulsion nor shock at the sight. He had never known these people in life. In fact he did not even know their current condition was out of the ordinary. That night as the corps of dead marched from the ruined village Miekal was handed off to the old badger Simon for training.
Simon was all too happy to put the lad to work. There was always work that needed doing in the master's haunt filled keep. He instructed his master's new slave in all the skills the boy should know. How to prepare one of the cat's rarely-needed meals, how to care for the necromancer's quarters, or catalog his artifacts, or any of the dozens of chores the badger himself hated to perform.
Two years after Miekal had been taken something had changed. The boy had grown up fine and strong, whip thin and wiry. He also learned a great deal of the world under his master's service, something he loved the great cat for dearly. He knew his master was not a good man, and the young mouse had seen that the powerful wizard was indeed capable of great acts of cruelty and wickedness. Despite all that, his devotion to the man that named him only continued to grow.
The necromancer had been noticing the mouse more and more, and the sight of the nearly naked boy scurrying about the halls of the fortress had raised desires and lusts the cat had felt were long since banished during his rise to power. Despite the great cat's iron will it had become harder and harder to ignore these feelings. The cat had briefly entertained the notion of destroying the boy to end the distraction, but even thinking along those lines troubled the sorcerer. The fact that the life of a slave had come to mean so much to him was troubling in and of itself.
In need of a distraction he rang a bell to summon his seneschal. The old badger huffed and puffed as he entered the master's hall. His robes speckled with grease and crumbs, as he'd been forced to abandon his meal and run all the way from the galley. "Prepare my bath. I wish to retire soon." Though the cat rarely slept most nights, he would retire to his room to meditate and study arcane lore.
The badger bows deeply, "Yes master, right away master." He quickly backs from the great hall. He makes sure the doors are shut tight before muttering to himself, cursing the inopportune timing of it all. By the time he finished the master's preparations his fine meal would undoubtedly be cold. As he groused and muttered he came across the boy Miekal, seeing a perfect way to do the masters bidding and still gorge himself on fried fish and tubers. "Boy!" shouted Simon, startling the mouse and causing him to drop his broom. "Go prepare the master's bath, and be quick about it! If I hear you've been slack you'll feel the back of my paw." He chuckles as he watches the lithe young figure scurry off. "Now back to those fish."
The great cat sighs as he steps into his intricate bathing room and great wafts of steam rise up to great him. One thing in the room however was enough to change that relaxed, contemplative mood. In the middle of the room beside the wide bronze-bathing vessel stood Miekal, carefully filling the tub with hot water.
The young slave whimpers as he hears the doors open, knowing he was to slow. "I'm sorry master, your bath is almost..." The words catch in his throat as he looks up and sees the necromancer standing there regarding him carefully. It's not fear that stops the mouse... it's something else as he beholds his master. The Siamese cat is dressed simply in a sheer black robe of some silky material that does little to hide the man's form beneath it. The sorcerer is lean and strong, his body is like that of a dancer with the soft creamy browns of his belly and chest mingling with the solid blacks of his paws and face. Face to face like this there was no denying Miekal's love for the man.
The cat's annoyance at having his solitude disrupted quickly drained away as he watched the boy. Once more those long buried desires made themselves known. As the slave was about to leave the great feline whispered an order, "Stay, Miekal, I want you to attend me while I bath."
This was a new duty for the mouse, never before had the master required help while he bathed. "Yes master," whispers the servant. The boy's eyes go wide as the feline lets his shear robe fall from his shoulders. As the mouse watches, the necromancer wades into the large bronze vessel. He can't tear his eyes away as the hot steaming water caresses the master's thighs.
As the cat sinks into the water his back to the slave, he lets out a long contented sigh. The hot water never fails to bring him back to life as the warmth flows over him. "Come Miekal, attend me," says the cat, hissing the order. The words snap the young mouse from his trance.
The boy rushes to his master's side, kneeling on the cold stone floor not sure what to do. "What do you wish me to do sire?" The cat gestures to a nearby table containing many soaps and oils. "Yes master right away," whimpers the still scared mouse.
"Start with my back Miekal," whispers the necromancer as he lounges in the water.
The mouse is only too delighted to obey. Though his paws are covered with soapy lather he sighs happily as his fingers run through the master's soft fur. He moves slowly, his strong fingers kneading the firm muscles along the felines back even as he leans in closer. He inhales the heady scent of his master. That musty earthy smell, undercut with something slightly sweeter. The boy sighs happily, not even noticing the light rumble as the necromancer starts to purr.
It has been a long time since the sorcerer had been touched like this. He'd forgotten how pleasurable a mortal's caress could be. "That is enough Miekal." He whispers, loud enough to startle the poor boy. "Now you are to wash my front, my chest and arms. This will be a difficult task if you remain where you are. You are to remove your clothing and join me, so you may perform your task to my liking."
The young mouse swallows hard, not sure what will happen this close to his master. He shucks off the little clothing he's allowed before stepping into the water. He winces briefly, the water is much hotter then he's used too. This is vastly different from scrubbing down in the wooden tub in the scullery. He stands before his master naked but for a light blush. Slowly the mouse falls to his knees, while straddling the cat's legs.
The cat leans back, resting against the bronze lip of the tub. The young mouse has grown well under his care. He smiles picturing how the boy's man hood had looked before its slide beneath the obscuring ripples of the water. He had grown very well indeed. Once more the boy tentatively reaches out, his fingers working their way through the cat's soft belly fur, slowly inching his way up the master's chest. Delicate fingers spread the sweet smelling lather across the feline's lean frame. As the mouse's paws explore his body the master begins to purr once more. This time the rumbling sound is accompanied by another, more pressing bodily urge. "Miekal?" whispers the wizard.
"Yes master?" answers the boy, too intent on his job to notice the seven inches of turgid feline that was millimeters from his belly.
"It has been along time since something has gotten my blood pumping like this." He smiles at the puzzled look on the mouse's face. "That fact alone deserves something of a celebration." Before the still confused boy can react, the cat surges forward, his paws pinning the boy's shoulders against the edge of the tub.
Miekal screams in panic at the odd look in his master's eyes. Whimpering he starts to plead. "I'm sorry master; please I'm sorry I displeased you. I beg you to spare my life."
The large cat looms over the smaller mouse and chuckles. "You have not displeased me boy, not by along shot. In fact I am going to expand your duties to me, and give you a great gift." Since the mouse was straddling his legs to begin with the cat has him just where he wants him.
The mouse briefly thinks of struggling but decides not to. This is the master's will, and he will do anything for the master. Through the water he can feel something hard pressing up under his tail, gently probing till it finds the mouse's virginal little anus. The master's yowl of pleasure mingles with the mouse's sharp cry of pain as the big cat forces his staff into that almost too tight opening. The necromancer drives himself deep into the boy, pushing all the way to the hilt. He savors the tight fist like grip of the boy for a moment before pulling back.
The pain of the initial thrust slowly faded with the next one. All too soon the little mouse's grunts of discomfort changed to groans of pleasure. Miekal's legs which had been hanging limp, reared up, wrapping around the cat's waist and locked them together. His own six inches of throbbing mouse hood swayed slightly in the waves of their own making. The master's thrusts go harder and deeper, the pleasure wracking the young mouse's body is almost painful as the cat repeatedly assaults the boy's tender prostate.
It's the slave who climaxes first; with out even the slightest touch to his own genitals the mouse lets out a deafening pleasured scream as his cum pumps out into the bath water. The necromancer howls a response as the spasming boy clamps down on the cat like a vice triggering another climax which floods Miekal's bowels with the cats scalding seed.
With out missing a beat, his cock still firmly wedged in the slave's ass and pumping him full of cream, the cat rises. He carries the mouse off to his chambers to begin teaching the boy of his new duties.
Movement up on the hill breaks the cat from his pleasant daydream. The swirl of old memories has had an effect on the necromancer. He grins to himself just one more thing to look forward to come nightfall. As he watches, the young mouse steps from the church followed by one of the prisoners, and a few older men.
The young mouse reaches his master at a run; he pauses for a moment to catch his breath. "Most have decided to stay within the church master. Just for the time being. Some are sick and injured sire. They are in no condition to be moved."
The necromancer looks out on the small church. It rankles him to leave it standing. The shimmering holiness is a blight in his eye but the cat just turns away. He'd given his word and he would abide by it. He looks down at the mouse smiling up at him. He knows this small mercy was important to the boy and somehow that makes the whole thing worth it. "Miekal go back to the barge and fetch me one of the black jars. Then you are to bring me to the village wounded. We still need to select a headman to rule in my name."
He watches the mouse scurry off before he sniffs at the air. Something is wrong, the necromancer cannot quite put his finger on it but something is not right here. As the slave returns, they head off to where the few local healers are tending the wounded. There are only a few. The cat's soldiers know their business and very few survive long enough to need a healer. Most of these will survive. The great cat stops before one of the men who will not live much longer. The man is a soldier by the scars on his body. He's old, older than any of the others who fought in defense of the village, but his limbs are strong and his body is whole. "Yes, I think he will do." The cat kneels by the dying fox. "Do you wish to live?" The question is whispered just loud enough for the veteran to hear. "I can save you. You will be whole and strong again. If you refuse remember you will still serve me but as one of them instead." The necromancer points across the square to the assembled ranks of his army, standing motionless in the noonday sun.
There is a fire in the old man's eye, and for a moment the cat thinks he might refuse. The old man can't bring himself to say it but he finally does nod in agreement.
"Very well. I'll name you sir as my Headman in this village. Your title is now your name and you lose all claim to what ever name you had before." The cat talks quickly so the old fox can't react. The necromancer pulls the jar from the mouse's unresisting paws, with a twist the wax seal is broken and the cats paw dips into the black viscous liquid. The sorcerer starts to mumble something; the words are a complex and intricate mesh of syllables that seem to linger on the cusp of the comprehension. With a flourish the necromancer pulls a still beating heart from the clay jar. The organ is bulbous and blackened, dripping a foul smelling sludge, and trailing a few inches of veins and arteries. Before anyone can react the cat presses the throbbing lump of flesh against the old fox's chest, the words coming faster now. Where the heart meets skin there comes a dull, silver light. The fox screams in pain as the wizard pushes down the heart writhing in his palm as he forces it through the layers of flesh and fur. Then as quickly as it had begun the whole ordeal was over. The necromancer's palm rested on the old man's bare chest, and he could feel the drum beat of both hearts. Around him, the survivors look on, terrified as the cat just sits back and smiles. The dark heart would cement his control on this village. If the man survives he might change some, but any malformations would just increase his control. The fox's personality will stay the same but he will not be able to go against the will of the dark heart, or its master, the necromancers.
"Master!" comes a cry from the edge of the crowd. The gathered furs part quickly as Miekal comes rushing forward flanked by two of the necromancer's semi-spectral generals.
The tone of the young lad's voice carries a note of worry and fear. Something he knows better then to show in front of a newly captured prize, and this breach more then anything alerts the wizard to the severity of the problem. "What troubles you my pet?" whispers the cat, while at his feet the old fox writhes in agony as the heart burrows deeper.
The mouse whimpers softly, "Sire it is Simon. He's gone master, his quarters are empty and several small valuables are missing from the barge, including a few things from your arcane collection."
"Gone!" bellows the cat. Miekal shudders, he'd never heard his master's voice raised in anger before only pleasure, and the gathered villagers flee to their homes. "This can not be allowed!" rages the cat before looking down at the fox. "It seems you will die after all. I cannot let this affront stand so I must leave you to perish while I hunt down my traitorous servant. It's such a pity to waste a dark heart."
"Master, if I may?" whimpers the still frightened lad. "You should stay here master. I'll go fetch Simon back to you."
The cat is about to reject this offer as foolishness when he looks into the boy's eyes. There is a burning need in there. A need to prove to the great cat that he is capable of serving him in this manner. "You are not to bring him back my pet. Not alive in any case. Do you still wish to do this task?"
The young mouse swallows hard. It's not an easy thing the master asks of him but he can't back down now. "Yes sire I do."
"Very well." The necromancer snaps his fingers and half a dozen soldiers separate themselves from the rest of his forces. "These men will accompany you on this task. Do not fail me my pet, I do not wish to punish you."
It is a hard track to follow but the small hunting party catches up with the badger shortly before dawn. They can see him clearly in the pre dawn light; the fat man is curled up next to the smoldering remains of a cook fire. As one the soldiers move forward. The mouse, clad in a leather traveling cloak, stays a safe distance behind them. As the first zombie nears the old man something goes horribly wrong. The undead trooper collapses into a heap. Like a puppet whose stings had been cut, the moldering corpse just falls apart.
The badger rolls over glaring at them with a maniacal grin. "Ha! You think me a fool?" he shouts to the night. "I spent sixty years serving the master. I've learned enough to deal with the dead like you lot."
The soldiers slow and come to a stop, a good distance from the remains of their fallen comrade. They stand there, impassive as the mouse comes forward. "The master knew this sir. And that's why he sent me along as well." The mouse knows nothing of combat; he's here on nerve, and the shear desire to prove himself. He pulls a small dagger from its sheath as he steps over the remains of the fallen soldier.
Simon laughs derisively at the boy's approach, "The old fool sent you? His slut to bring me back?" as Miekal comes close, the badger's arm comes forward with a speed that belies his age and size. It's a powerful blow that sends the boy sprawling with a bloodied lip and sends the knife flying from his grip. "You are the cause of all this!" shouts the badger as he advances on the prone boy. "If you had just known your place. You are the master's slave, his fuck toy. That is all you were ever meant to be. But nooo, you had to start taking my duties, stealing away my glories and favors. I served the master long before some village whore spit you out, but still it was you he favored!"
The mouse crawls back from the enraged badger as the old man rears back about to bring his staff down on the boy's head. The mouse's questing paw finds something. It is the hilt of the fallen zombie's sword. In a blur of fear he acts. It is a lucky and desperate move when the mouse swings. The sword comes up --a weak blow-- and the blade is more rust than iron, but lands with a meaty sound in the badgers gut. The old man falls to his knees, his staff tumbling from his fingers, even as the mouse rises. The boy is crying as he shoulders the blade. "I'm sorry Simon. You were like family to me. Truly you were. But you betrayed the master, and the man I love. For that there is no forgiveness." With a loud cry of anguish the mouse swings the heavy blade again. Miekal is already on his knees sobbing uncontrollably, even before the body hits the ground, and its head stops rolling.