The Lesser Evil

By E. A. Rappaport

The lifelong bandit, Senfra, does not care about anyone or anything except a good night at the pub, certainly not about the people and animals rumored to be disappearing from the Cold Sea coast. But when his gang rebels and steals his fortune, he finds himself on the Cursed Island, surrounded by dangerous crossbreeds. Senfra’s only possible ally is Toth, a necromancer reviled by society because of his fascination with bones and death. The two must learn to trust each other while confronting a master transmuter who has been creating an army of unearthly abominations by combining animals, humans, and objects.

The Lesser Evil is Book Five in Legends of the Four Races, a series of nine high fantasy novels that form an Interlocking Matrix of six separate trilogies. The Lesser Evil may be read on its own, as the second book of The Transmuter Trilogy or as the second book of The War Trilogy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: E. A. Rappaport
• Release date: Jun 19, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301968336

E. A. Rappaport

E. A. Rappaport graduated from Massachusetts Institute of Technology with degrees in Computer Science and Electrical Engineering. He works as a software engineer for a financial services consulting firm in New York City. Rappaport co-founded StatCard Entertainment, the first company to combine smart card technology with trading cards and internet games. He is a lifelong resident of Orange, CT.

Book preview

Chapter I

Summer Solstice

A warm breeze blew several strands of black hair into Toth’s face. As he peered out from behind a thick bush, he gripped his spade tighter, briefly noting the permanent display of caked dirt beneath his cracked nails.

Ten mourners were just completing their ceremony. They laid a single coin—most likely tin, from the ragged state of their clothing—on each of the corpse’s eyes, sang a few somber melodies, and tossed the last few shovels of dirt into the grave. It wouldn’t be long before they were on their way home.

Toth crouched lower. He was lucky to have arrived at the graveyard during a burial. His audience with the Wizard Council was only a day away, and with so much to prepare, he had little time to make any extra stops. Finding a set of bones this fresh, however, was worth the minor delay.

When he looked up again, the mourners had each placed a small stone on the mound of dirt marking the grave and had disappeared silently into the night. Toth waited an extra few minutes before emerging from his hiding spot and shuffling over to the grave.

He plunged his spade into the earth, the recently loosened soil making his job much easier than usual. Within seconds, he’d uncovered the body. In life, it had been an old man, a father, a husband, a grandfather, but in death, it had the potential to be much more. These bones might be the first ones to offer full communication with the dead or provide a new method for keeping loved ones alive longer than nature would otherwise allow. Toth dragged the corpse out of the shallow grave and dug through his backpack for a knife.

What are you doing? a soft voice said from the darkness, followed by a shrill squeal and sobbing.

A firmer voice followed. How dare you violate that grave? The dirt hasn’t even settled.

Toth fell away from the body onto his pack, rolled to his knees, and wiped his hands on his black robe. Two of the mourners had returned, probably the old man’s daughter and granddaughter. Tears streamed down the little girl’s face as she buried her head in her mother’s patchwork dress. A white lily fell from her hand.

Go on, shouted the mother, backing away from Toth with her arms around the little girl. We’re poor folk. There’s nothing of value buried with my father. Those coins on his eyes aren’t even real.

I’m not a grave robber, said Toth.

The two took measured steps backward, clearly trying not to provoke a sudden attack from the stranger. Brown splotches dotted the fronts of their dresses, which were frayed at the hems.

And I’m not here to hurt anyone, said Toth. I promise.

The young girl pulled away from her mother.

Then why won’t you let my papa rest?

Because… said Toth. I—

The mother snatched the girl into her arms and darted away.

Toth fingered the old man’s shirt. Although it had several holes stitched closed near the bottom and was missing two buttons, it was without a single stain. His family had expended much effort making the old man presentable, even though his body would never be seen again.

How had he become so insensitive? The little girl’s mother saw him as a monster. When he’d begun his research into the dead, he’d found working with bones disgusting and had considered returning to traditional sorcery more than once. Now, he felt no connection to the recently departed old man. The body was just another source of material for his research.

Perhaps there was such a thing as bones that were too fresh. In any case, the rest of the mourners would bring the town guard within minutes, not nearly enough time to clean the bones properly. He shoved the corpse back into the grave, covered it with the loose dirt, and placed the discarded lily atop the mound.

The Wizard Council chamber could have swallowed a small village. Its walls, as cold as stone yet patterned like wood, rose ten times the height of a man to an ornate dome, where six ridges separated intricate carvings of men, beasts, books, and nature. Ages ago, it had taken the first council a decade to complete the construction.

Toth leaned against a smooth marble table and stared at the group of wizards seated in front of him, each one dressed in a robe of his school’s unique color. Red stood for elemental magic, blue for alchemy, purple for conjuration, yellow for illusion, green for sorcery, white for thaumaturgy, and orange for transmutation. Such a distinction had existed for centuries, but Toth, in his long black robe, was convinced he’d discovered an eighth school of magic.

The dull flame from a dozen lamps lit the windowless chamber in a pale light as three young acolytes quietly replenished the diminishing oil. They kept their heads down until their work was done, ignoring a single flickering lantern on the far side of the room.

Below the depleted lantern, a pair of animated skeletons marched from one wall to the other, their bony feet clicking against the marble floor like the first few pebbles rolling down a mountain in advance of a landslide. A few of the bones still had sinew attached and let off a distinctly rotten odor in the summer heat.

After many years of research, Toth was finally presenting his new school of necromancy to the council, but as the acolytes had proven once again, most people were repulsed by his discovery.

I share their feelings, said Mathon in a flowing red robe.

Although he was the youngest of the seven council members by far, Mathon was nearly double Toth’s age.

That’s because you refuse to keep an open mind, said Toth. Take a closer look at my skeletons. Someone as wise as you can surely see the truth.

I already know the truth, said Mathon. As do my peers on the council.

He received nods from half of the wizards, but the others motioned for him to get up from the table. Hisvii, the master transmuter, focused intently on the walking bones. His orange robe was splotched with dark stains. Toth shifted sideways until he was across from him.

You seem curious about my skeletons. Go ahead and touch them.

Hisvii stood but Mathon pushed him back into his seat.

I wasn’t planning to get any closer to those hideous creatures, he said, but it’s my obligation as mediator of this discussion.

His red robe swept the floor as he strolled across the room. After running his hand across his thinning hair, Mathon covered his nose with a silk rag and moved into the skeletons’ path, forcing them to halt. He brushed one of the smooth skulls with his fingertips and pulled back with a shudder.

These bones deserve an eternity of rest beneath the soil, he said, not forced servitude to an overambitious young wizard.

Wouldn’t you say the same for any spirit summoned by sorcery? asked Toth.

I would, said Mathon. There’s no difference between these unfortunate creatures and a pair of forest spirits. A bunch of dry bones or a pile of dead leaves and twigs—they’re all the same when brought to life by a sorcerer. Congratulations on discovering these bone spirits. I’ll note your contribution to the school of sorcery in our journal. You may leave now. I’ve had enough of your filthy abominations.

My skeletons are no common spirits.

Toth slammed his hands on the table, drawing grumbles from a few of the old wizards.

Necromancy is like no other school of magic. I’ve granted temporary life to those bones. Besides, many other beings may be called upon from the netherworld. I only need the time and resources to continue my research.

Then prove it to me. This was your chance to convince us of your claims, but you’ve shown nothing that I haven’t seen a hundred times already. If I gathered a few dry branches from the forest, Lassinar could easily duplicate your magic—any sorcerer could.

Perhaps not any sorcerer, said Lassinar, pushing up the sleeves of his green robe.

His skin, wrinkled with age, sagged below his arms and swung back and forth as he moved.

Some spirits might be too difficult for an inexperienced wizard to summon. If these actually came from the netherworld, young Toth here—

Just because these spirits inhabit bones doesn’t mean they came from the netherworld. Mathon shoved the nearest skeleton, which recovered swiftly and continued its rhythmic pacing. We’ve seen no proof of anything he’s told us.

Watch how they understand my commands.

Toth gave the skeletons a few hand signals. One of them slowed its pace and spun on its heels every five steps, while the other stopped beside Mathon and swung its arms in circles without touching him.

Can your forest spirits do that? he asked.

They can follow simple commands, said Lassinar.

And all of them can be dispelled with a cleansing fire, said Mathon. Tell me why I shouldn’t put these poor spirits to rest immediately.

Because we’re not here to match our schools against one another, said Hisvii. Please continue, young man.

Toth signaled the skeletons to halt.

In addition to summoning creatures from the netherworld, he said, my magic can prolong one’s life past the moment of physical death. One day, I might even be able to bring loved ones back from the dead. Is there nobody you’d like to see again?

Just because you have the ability to do something, said Mathon, doesn’t mean you should.

Are you planning to enact a rule that prohibits me from following my dreams?

If we must. Mathon backed away from the skeletons. The rules we create are to keep order and protect innocent people from magic that would otherwise be dangerous. Not every wizard is as disciplined as we are.

You mean inflexible.

If our ancestors didn’t allow new research, said Hisvii, none of us would be here. You’ve certainly shown enough to warrant further research.

I agree, said the thaumaturgist Byeliar, oldest of the council members. We’ll grant you an apprentice to assist in your studies.

So you admit that I’ve discovered a new school of magic?

We’ve admitted nothing, said Mathon, glaring at Byeliar and Hisvii. We merely offered some help in your pursuit of sorcery.

It’s not sorcery! Toth slammed his fists on the table again, knocking over a small vial filled with a viscous black liquid.

The alchemist uncorked the vial, sniffed the contents, and resealed the bottle.

Perhaps these beings should be classified as bone golems, he said. Not all creatures that move have spirits within. This ‘Dark Whey’ is remarkably similar to a gel I use when animating stone. We should find him an apprentice alchemist.

I look forward to summoning your bone spirits, said Lassinar. It’s been many years since a sorcerer has discovered a new type of spirit, and I know the perfect candidate to assist you.

Don’t be so quick to categorize his work, said the alchemist. Golems are adept at following instructions.

You’re both wrong. Golems are soulless beings of wood or stone…little more than animated sculptures. They’re brutes of pure strength and no mind, blindly obeying the simplest of orders from their master. These skeletons are different. I returned life to a body that had none and gave the resulting creature a semblance of conscious thought. You can squabble about alchemy and sorcery until next summer, but I assure you my magic is neither.

Take care how you speak to us, said Mathon.

Or I’ll be banished like Ogma. I know too well how you treat anyone who doesn’t conform to your arbitrary laws. My master was a better wizard than all of you combined, and you pushed him away instead of seeking his wisdom.

With another wave of his hand, he summoned the skeletons to his side, one of them grabbing the glass vial from the alchemist along the way.

Mathon hopped out of the skeletons’ path.

Magic without rules is dangerous. The Wizard Council has kept the world safe for many ages. Do not question our judgment.

Whether you want to admit it or not, said Toth, change will come. I’ll prove to you that necromancy is the eighth school of magic.

He stormed out of the room with his two minions close behind. An acolyte closed the heavy door behind him and retreated down the hallway. Toth felt like sending one of the skeletons after the young man just to show him there was nothing to fear, but they were moving slower than before.

Keep going, he said. I’m not done with you yet.

One at a time, the skeletons collapsed onto the floor, their bones disintegrating as they hit the marble. Toth kicked the two piles of powder, sending up a cloud of dust. By the time the air had cleared, he was alone in the entryway. There had to be a reason why the skeletons returned to the netherworld so soon after their summoning, and he wouldn’t rest until he uncovered the truth. He brushed the gray dust off his boot, gathered all the remains into a small sack, and left the ancient building, promising himself to return next year with irrefutable proof of his discoveries.

Chapter II

A Lost Cause

Hisvii was almost amused by Mathon’s difficulty accepting the necromancer. The elementalist had refused to drop the subject at the beginning of the next day’s meeting, but after several hours of arguments, talk finally turned to old business. Discussions of who should be allowed to study magic, which towns needed assistance, and when to assign apprentices seemed to drag on endlessly. Hisvii took the first opportunity to call for a break.

My stomach tells me it’s close to noon, he said. We should invite Toth to join us for our midday meal if he hasn’t returned home yet. He might even give us another peek at those intriguing skeletons.

Mathon scowled at him. The boy’s long gone by now, and good riddance. He’s disrespectful, overconfident, and stubborn.

Traits common among most wizards.

Hisvii rose from the table and stretched, quickly pulling down the sleeve of his robe when it bunched up near his shoulder. His skin was almost as wrinkled as Lassinar’s was.

Perhaps, said Mathon, but at least some of us follow the rules set by the council. Toth has blatantly disregarded them, just like his master, Ogma, and I dare say others in this room.

You must be mistaken, said Hisvii. None of us would violate the council’s trust.

Of course not.

While the rest of the wizards tucked their chairs beside the table and headed for the door, Lassinar and the alchemist split from the group to gather around Mathon. They’d both seemed ready to claim the necromancer’s work as part of their own school as soon as they saw the animated bones. Hisvii smiled to himself. If they were willing to open their minds and try something new themselves, they wouldn’t have been forced to rely on anyone else’s research to bring excitement to their mundane lives.

The young wizard should be disciplined or even barred from practicing magic if he doesn’t comply, said Mathon. Our predecessors would have done nothing less.

Toth will listen to reason, said Lassinar. Be patient with him.

Not everyone seeks to change our ways. The alchemist squeezed between them. Once we determine if the skeletons are spirits or golems, we can assign the necromancer’s achievements to the proper school. He’ll accept the decision or he’ll be banished like his master, Ogma.

I hesitate to share your optimism, said Mathon, but either way, we should watch him closely. He already has both of you calling him a necromancer. I don’t trust him.

Hisvii left his chair where he’d pushed it out, brushed past the other two, and slapped Mathon on the back.

You don’t let anyone through your hard shell, and for that reason alone I like the boy. I volunteer to spy on him.

Do what you like, said Mathon as he returned Hisvii’s chair to its proper place at the table. You always do.

Hisvii blocked him from following Lassinar and the alchemist out of the room, closing the heavy door after they were alone.

Your talent as an elementalist is undeniable, he said, but you still have much to learn. I was already a master transmuter while you were learning to walk. If you continue to force your will upon the council, you’ll gain powerful enemies.

My will? I’ve done nothing but follow our ancient traditions, said Mathon. The council should be enforcing the rules it set ages ago, but it appears to be my job to remind everyone about our responsibilities. Since when has preserving the law become an attack against you or anyone else?

I have no problem ensuring our laws are obeyed, but you were going beyond that. You implied that I was violating the council’s rules.

There’s no reason to be defensive if you have nothing to hide.

So you believe I’m hiding something. Hisvii grabbed his arm. Do you have proof of any transgressions?

Not yet, said Mathon, pushing him aside to open the door.

Then stop accusing me in front of the council and I’ll allow you to enforce our rules as you see fit. I’d support any decision you make about the necromancer.

Sorcerer, said Mathon.

Hisvii watched him disappear down the corridor toward the mess hall. There was no chance that Mathon would ever leave him alone.

After the Wizard Council had convened for the year, Hisvii rushed to his nearest laboratory. He’d been foolish to tell anyone about its location, but that was many years ago, long before he’d become interested in questionable areas of research. One day, the council would acknowledge the enormous benefits he could offer, but until then, his activities would have to remain secret.

He gathered his belongings into a heavy canvas sack. There wasn’t much to pack, but one small shield caught his attention. He gazed at his reflection in the polished metal buckler, the only memento he’d kept from his childhood. His hands looked more like his father’s than his own did, and a few more wrinkles had carved their way across his face.

King Tharain had given the ceremonial buckler to his father for outstanding service defending the land against their aggressive neighbors. Eventually the king ushered in years of peace by uniting several rival clans. These days, almost nobody remembered the times of constant bloodshed and warfare.

Hisvii shoved the tiny shield into his sack along with anything else that was small enough to carry. Soon the room was empty except for his bed, firm but functional and easily replaced.

He tossed the sack onto his cart with the rest of his equipment, tied it all down with sturdy twine, and returned to the old laboratory for one last look before his long journey north.

The outer walls of the building were smooth, blending with one another seamlessly at the corners. The roof appeared to be an extension of the walls that continued upward at a slight angle until it came to a sharp point in the center. Although he’d completed the work many years ago, he couldn’t have done better today. He caressed the doorframe as he entered the laboratory.

The ceiling, despite being solid wood, was transparent, allowing sunlight to nourish hundreds of plants growing in the large room. It had taken months of research and experimentation to allow such a transformation, but it had been worth the effort. His garden received all the light it needed without being exposed to prying eyes unless someone chose to scale the slippery walls onto the roof.

The main chamber had been organized into a dozen square sections separated from one another by stony ridges three inches high. Each section held a different type of plant growing directly out of the dirt floor. If he’d ever found the time, he would have hired an elementalist, other than Mathon, to help him irrigate the room. Taking care of the plants was time consuming given the distance between this laboratory and Kroflund, the nearest town in Tharain. Although he hadn’t conducted research here for more than a dozen years, he returned frequently enough to care for the plants.

As he followed a winding path around the garden, he examined every stem, leaf, and flower. Each plant was a combination of two or more species. There were small maple trees with yellow fruits hanging from their branches, multiple species of oversized flowers in every color imaginable, and two creeping vines that sprouted violet beans.

Several sections of the laboratory were empty. Hisvii had already sent the mature plants to local farmers to help them increase their yield through difficult seasons. He was especially proud of his hardy tomatoes, which grew twice as much fruit with less water than usual. The patch of dirt where he’d nurtured the seedlings was barren, but there would be no new seeds planted today.

After one final glance at his garden, Hisvii shut the front door behind him, lingering beside the entrance. His new greenhouse wouldn’t be ready for months, but if he dug a temporary garden nearby, he wouldn’t have to leave anything behind. He only needed an extra horse and cart to carry the remaining plants in a single trip.

He placed his hands on the ground on either side of the entrance and closed his eyes. The cold earth beneath his fingers almost came alive, waiting to bend to his will as he chanted, "Aweaxan stan lang, fasoun mestling awendan."

Small stones in the area merged and expanded upward, thinning out as they covered the door and walls in a layer of rocky armor. When he was satisfied with the protection, he climbed onto the cart and urged his horse into the woods. Although he’d left his plants alone countless times before, today he felt as if he were abandoning them. He’d do his best to return in two days.

Through the trees, a flickering orange glow lit the night air as the faint smell of burning wood tickled Hisvii’s nose. He jumped off his cart, leaving both horses behind, and dashed through the forest to the clearing where his laboratory was aflame.

A man in a long red robe leaned against a trunk in front of the burning building.

My precious plants, said Hisvii. What have you done?

Proved my suspicions and then some.

Mathon held out a purple beanstalk that had been shoddily transplanted into a clay pot.

No wonder you were so defensive at the council meeting. You’ve been experimenting on living matter.

Don’t be ridiculous, said Hisvii. That’s nothing more than a hybrid vine. Farmers have been creating new fruits and vegetables without magic since before the Wizard Council existed. They simply select a few plants with desired traits, place them close to one another, and cross-pollinate them. I’d be happy to introduce you to some more successful farmers of Tharain. Perhaps they can provide guidance to your less adept friends in Cyllin.

This is no cross-pollinated bean plant.

Mathon shook the pot, causing a handful of soil to spray into the air.

Hisvii winced as the young plant’s leaves flailed about.

How can you be sure? Has living among farmers made you an expert in the field?

I can tell the difference.

The same way you can tell the difference between a skeleton and a forest spirit? asked Hisvii.

Why don’t we speak to one of your farmers and find out?

Such knowledge is quite specialized, said Hisvii. There aren’t more than a handful of people in all five kingdoms who could confirm your suspicions, and even then, it would only be possible if they had prior experience with the exact species in question.

Mathon threw the plant to the ground, shattering the pot.

You might fool the rest of the council with your nonsense, he said, but I know the truth.

And what do you plan to do with this so-called truth?

I might not be able to convince anyone of these violations yet.

He pulled several other plants from his pockets, tossed them aside, and wiped his hands on his robe.

You know just enough about farming to cast a measure of doubt on my words, but I’ll be watching you closely. It won’t be long before I have the proof I need.

Behind him, fire had broken through large sections of the wall, and the roof was collapsing. Thick smoke rose from the building, obscuring most of the stars in the sky.

You shouldn’t have focused your aggression on those innocent plants, shouted Hisvii as he dashed toward the building. "They’ve done nothing to deserve