Needles Out

Morgan paced back and forth, forth across the room; sweat beaded down her face, and she'd paled. With every turn, she glared at him, and he felt her anticipation of removing the needles. The desire almost overwhelmed her.

It made him feel better.

While the needles each gave their unique twist on agony, his crippling had been debilitating. After the initial stabbing, they didn't hurt any more than if he'd stopped concentrating on cultivating when he stopped cultivating the energy built up and tried to burn its way out.

That made sleeping difficult. Lex couldn't rest more than ten to fifteen minutes at a time. Every time he nodded off, it felt like his body would burst into flames.

At least she could pace around; he had to stay on the table thanks to the needles in the soles of his feet. "Why aren't you breathing?" Morrigan asked.

The question caught him a little flat-footed. "I can breathe just fine, see." He sucked in a breath and released it.

"No, your lungs are functional. You haven't taken a breath in the last hour. While it makes you a convincing undead, your heartbeats." She glared at him with deep green eyes. He liked that, in his experience, anger was better than depression. Lex flashed her a smile. Morgan blushed and backed away.

He took the opening to change the subject.

He decided to take her mind off the thought. "How many hours do we have left of this torture, and why didn't that old crone look shocked by the needles? Is it normal to torture your zombie after raising them?" Lex asked.

Her flustered expression evaporated. "Don't call Mistress Vile an old crone. She's been kind to me when she didn't have to be." She pursed her lips, and he could feel her uncertainty as if it were his own. Revealing such witch lore to an outsider was forbidden. Morgan debated what she could tell him. It was masked on her face but cleared through their link. "This level of impurities is unnatural. No one should be able to open all their meridians." Morgan paused.

She sucked in a breath and concentrated. "The power to sustain the main nine is difficult to maintain. Once opened, a practitioner must continue to supply power to each meridian even while opening new ones. You opened all of them and sustained them easily. For undead as with cultivators, the more meridians opened, the higher that undead's potential." Morrigan said.

Lex mulled over the new information. A smile spread across his face. "I'm a lot stronger than that little snot Jonna then," Lex said.

"Yes, if you see strength only in your potential with the Tang standard of cultivation. Elder Cars would still tear you apart with a glance. That little snot is a Duke's son. This duchy of Goth will be his one day, as will the hidden dragon institute. He'll be given the best techniques, weapons, protective talismans, armor, and familiars. That isn't even getting to the lords sworn to his service, landed knights, and even men at arms who owe him allegiance. He could put a price on your head, and there isn't a thing you could do about it. But yes, your standard tang potential is greater than his. Good luck getting the pills, knowledge, and teachers needed to rise in the ranks." Morrigan said.

Time elapsed, leaving him to think on her words until he could feel each of his meridians settle. "Is it true, does the Quicksilver sect have weapons and armor that can equal the power of the Tang standard?" Lex asked.

"You sure ask a lot of questions. My home is on an island to the north and very far from here. Even If you go begging for weapons, they come at a price. The Larrington and Sherwood duchies learned that the hard way. It's not like you have any enemies to use such weapons. Besides, you don't have an impurity problem anymore." Morgan said.

"I don't like that implication. What if I leave?" Lex asked.

Morgan crossed her arms. "Then, I'll have you declared a rogue undead. The point of this exercise was to raise you. Controlling you properly isn't in the rubric. I'll continue being poorer than the lowliest peasant," Morgan said.

She plucked the needles out of his back. With each one gone, he felt better than he had in a long time. After she plucked the last one, he stood up and stretched. Qi came to his call, spiraling around his body. There was so much qi at his fingertips, but he had no idea how to turn it into power.

No sooner had he stood upon the bronze table did she yank him off it. With a tug, the bandages covering his modesty peeled away. She ushered him to a shower head over a drain. Morgan positioned him, pulled a cord, and scalding water poured over him. Steam filled with the room as the last of the impurities clinging to his body fell away. He absently mindedly caught a bar of soap thrown by Morgan.

His black hair, once a tangled mess of red clay and impurities, fell limply at shoulder length. Morrigan was quick to pull out a pair of shears and began chopping it off. Once his hair became manageable, she took a straight razor to it. Wherever she saw hair, she attacked viciously. Soon, he was bald from head to toe. Even the slight stubble on his face was gone. Lex felt at his face and relaxed when he felt eyebrows. At least those were spared.

"Why do I need to look like a monk?" Lex asked.

"Their hair color determines a zombie's rank. Most shave their zombies soon after raising them. It makes the betting pools less predictable. Now, I'm going to bet everything on you. Don't lose no matter what." Morgan said. She took his arm and quickly dragged him from the room. "Don't say a word until we get to my dorm. If you have a question, ask it over the welded link." Morgan demanded.

She yanked him from the filthy raising room and promptly swapped a wooden block with one from another room. Then they went on their way.

For most of the walk through the underground, Morgan looked pleased with herself. The feeling was infectious. Both had gained from this accident. All of his meridians were opened. The wound he'd suffered for nearly a year was on the mend. Lex could feel the raja he absorbed spread through him and further empowered his body.

Morgan had someone to play a zombie. With their link, they could act like zombies and necromancers and fight with impunity.

In the dark tunnels of the underground, they came upon a carriage all in black driven by crimson-eyed horses. In the back of the carriage were a half dozen coffins. She found the largest one and opened the box.

"Get in," Morgan said.

He glared at the box. It smelled of freshly cut cedar and was sticky in some places.

"No," he sent the message through their link.

"Do you expect to ride in the carriage with me?" He raised an eyebrow. Was he not her ally? Didn't he deserve some courtesy? "I'll get you a much nicer coffin in the future with silk cushions. It's a long way from the student dorms. Unless you think you can keep up with undead horses, then get in the box." Morgan said. Lex sized up the horses. They felt a little warm but no more than one of the crone's rings. He was stronger now as well. "That was rhetorical. You can't keep up; they're foundation level with natural deft abilities. Please, get in the box. I'll make it up to you, I promise." Morgan flashed her long eyelashes, and Lex grumbled, bitched, and got in the box. If he didn't feel extreme thankfulness from her, he might have resisted longer.

The second the box closed, he felt strong hands heft his pack before chucking it at the carriage. From their link, he saw a brief flash of Morgan throwing the coffin. It flew and just missed the carriage lip. He slammed hard into the carriage, smashed his head against the hardwood, and flipped over on his face.

"Maybe we should swap. I'll wear the dress and be the witch; you can pretend to be the undead." Lex grumbled through their link.

She flipped him back over and picked him up. Her face set itself into a look of determination before she stepped back to her original spot. "You could place me in the carriage; you don't have to throw me," Morgan grunted, pointed him slightly upward, jumped, and threw the coffin. He shot across the distance. This time he slammed hard on the lip of the carriage. His feet hit harder on the ground. She picked him up and scooted him the rest of the way in. He felt her sulk back to the carriage.

It was a long and bumpy carriage ride back to her dorms. Once they arrived at their destination, she placed him on a wheeled cart for yet another ride. It wasn't until they had finally reached their goal that the coffin was opened.

He looked around her dorm room, unsure of what he expected. It was a mix of wood and bronze furniture. A banner with a giant silver dragon on a light green field was draped over her wall. Several mirror-shined axes, swords, and a shield lined the walls. On the wall beside her bed was a broomstick inlaid with brass shaped in runic patterns. Her bedspread consisted of a large green silk blanket and the look of it, while her pillow and comforter were geese downed. Atop her dresser was a large silly pointed hat with a red tip. It seemed that all witches wore red or black robes in the institution, even their teachers.

Morgan quickly grabbed a set of red robes and shot into her privy to change. He heard the familiar sound of a showerhead soon after the door shut. Lex pretended not to notice the flashes from the link of her assets. Lex spotted a full-body mirror in the room.

He stared at himself. Before cultivating, he'd had a little meat on his bones. Now, he could easily be mistaken for an undead. All of his ribs were exposed, and his face looked gaunt. Once, he'd been proud of his cheekbones and strong chin; now that his skin stretched across his bones, he could only stare at himself in horror. His arms looked like twigs, and he wondered how he still lived.

Lex felt at his face. The skin was like banded leather. When he had covered himself in red clay, he looked much bulkier. Life as a beggar hadn't been kind to him. After Artus left him to die in his village, Lex had fled for his life. Cultivation hadn't given him the strength he'd wanted. He knew Morgan would have little trouble passing him off as an undead.

Morgan tossed him a set of blank robes, and he put them on. "Are you hungry?" Morgan asked.

"No, I haven't been hungry since I started cultivating," Lex said.

"Idiot!" She roared between their link. Her voice suddenly softened. "That's a side effect of cultivating. Let me rephrase that. Eat with me before your fight." Morgan said.

She worked quickly in the kitchen and soon a bowl of mixed mushrooms, odd-smelling meat, and brown broth. He took a bite and threw himself into eating. It was emptied quickly, leaving him suddenly hungry for more. He narrowed his eyes and looked up at the girl that seemed to have all the answers. She was a cultivator while he was just a novice.

"Cultivating fools the body into thinking food isn't required. Until you form your core, you'll have to eat a meal once every few days to remain healthy. Any more is a waste, but any less could prove detrimental." Morgan said.

"I guess I'm going to fight next. What do I need to worry about?" Lex asked.

"Wights can paralyze with a touch if you're under foundation realm. Arming our zombies at this stage is also forbidden. You'll have to find a way around it." Morgan said.

Lex wasn't feeling very sure of himself. The meal had put him in better spirits, but how was he going to fight an enemy he couldn't touch. "Are any of the undead intelligent?" Lex asked.

Morgan looked troubled. "Wights are intelligent; if you fight one, don't expect it to be tricked easily. Though, at this point, they're like newborn kittens. Only their touch can paralyze you, and they might smell your living blood. Remember, all you have to do is win. Trust me; you don't want another witch to take ownership of you." Morgan said. He saw flashes of them both being staked out for the inquisition.

"I'll have to win then," Lex said.