A Necromancer Called Gam Gam – Chapter 1 Preview

Cover for A Necromancer Called Gam Gam by Adam Holcombe

A grandmotherly necromancer seeking resolution for her past with the help of her loyal entourage: an undead cat and a spectral knight.

A girl on the run from the Eternal Empire for the mysterious power she possesses.

When a chance encounter pulls them together, Gam Gam will do what it takes to protect Mina from the rogue sergeant hounding her–including raising the dead. As long as they’re dressed for the occasion.

1

A pair of knitting needles crossed.

Mina fled from the dread and the pain. From the nightmare and the sorrow. From the barking of hounds and the shouts of murderers. The silence of the forest amplified the sounds of her bare feet into an explosion of noise, sending up echoes of the snapping of twigs and crackling of leaves. She ran recklessly through the darkness, bouncing between the trees before crashing to the ground. Her momentum clawed her back to sore, raw feet. Her heart pounded against the prison of her rib cage; her gasping breath left a moist film on her lips that she kept rubbing away. Still she continued, branches clawing at her bare arms like giant beasts reaching out from the dark. The cool autumn air chilled the sweat against her body almost as quickly as it appeared. Mina wished she’d grabbed her coat and shoes. She wished for a lot of things.

A single flickering light called through the shroud of night. A traveler? She could only hope to be so lucky as to find a valiant knight. But would anyone even help her? The howls of the dogs grew louder, urging Mina toward that beacon. She pushed on with what little hope dwelled in her chest and focused on that single light as it grew into a flame, then a fire. The bright embers burned her eyes and deepened the darkness around her. With a resounding thud, Mina slammed into a tree and bounced off it, barely able to keep her footing as she stumbled backward.

Gingerly, she touched her bruised bicep. She winced at the pain, her breaths still coming ragged and fast, and she took in the sight ahead of her: a small camp with a fire at its heart. A solitary silhouette sat in a chair near the flames, arms shifting in repeated motion. A large, hard-topped wagon stood at the light’s edge. The sort merchants sold goods from when they visited the village. Beyond, two horses lay, strangely unmoving, beneath the boughs of a tree.

From behind, the barking echoed through the forest. The silhouette shifted, and Mina ducked behind the tree. Her pursuers were so close; she was so tired. And cold. Violent shivers wracked her body and begged her for that fire. Her legs and feet were beyond pain now; only a dull numbness told her they were still attached. Her lungs felt raw, like they’d been pulled from her body and scraped against a washboard. She wanted to give up. She wanted warmth. If she could just sit by the fire for a few moments, she could stop the shaking.

When she peeked around the edge of the tree, the figure had turned back toward the flames, their arms moving in that same mesmerizing motion. Her gaze shifted to the wagon, and it called to her with promises of warmth and safety. The fire wasn’t her only option. She might find clothes in the wagon. A blanket.

Guilt choked her, but fear pushed her. Introductions were not an option. She was wanted, and she was a killer. If the silhouetted person didn’t hand her over, they would seize her with force. She couldn’t risk asking for help, but she had to risk helping herself.

She tiptoed toward the wagon, carefully stepping between twigs and leaves. Her legs burned at the slow process, the different motion stretching taut muscles until they were sure to snap. Breathe. She had to focus on her breathing, as her father taught her, let it calm her nerves and relax her body. She couldn’t afford to panic right now. Her eyes jumped from the ground to the silhouette, who sat as before, arms working tirelessly. Mina reached the rear doors of the wagon, and she hoped the hinges were recently greased. She glanced at the horses and noticed they were not even tied to a stake or tree. Another burst of anxiety and guilt warred within her. If the hounds pursuing her scared the horses away, the traveler would be stranded. It would be her fault.

The voices shouted, near enough that Mina could hear the words. She was out of time. She took a deep breath and grabbed one of the door handles, barely feeling the cold metal in her numb hands. She cracked it open enough to fit through, and the hinges were so silent, Mina almost cried out in relief. She crept within and pulled the door partially closed behind her, leaving it open just enough to see and hear clearly.

The light of the fire bisected the otherwise dark abyss within. Mina’s teeth chattered as her body came to rest, the heat of exercise no longer staving off the fierce chill that pierced her skin. She groped around and felt something soft and heavily textured and pulled it close. With the dull light, she noticed the shape and several patterns stitched throughout. A blanket! She wrapped the newfound woolen blanket around herself quickly. Warmth returned, enough that her violent shaking subsided. Her skin still prickled, and her feet were numb, but those too would recover, given time.

The hounds’ snarls and the soldiers’ hails announced their arrival as they burst from the woods. Mina knelt near the door and peered out, but no one entered her minimal frame of vision.

“Hello, boys. I didn’t expect any visitors tonight, especially not this late.” An elderly woman’s voice reached Mina. Was she traveling alone? Was she not afraid to do so? “Is there anything I can help you with?”

A gruff voice answered, words curt and precise. “We’re looking for a girl: sable-skinned, shoulder-length, black hair. Approximately twelve years of age. Have you seen her run this way?”

“I have not—excuse me! What are you doing?” The old lady’s voice shifted from calm, pleasant tones to scolding within a heartbeat.

“We must check your wagon in case she hid within.” The dogs pawed at the ground, their claws scraping against stone and dirt. Mina could imagine them, saliva dripping from their jaws as they pulled against their restraints, instincts drawing them toward her like beasts to their next meal. She supposed she was meant to be the meal. “The dogs seem to believe she’s this way. You should be careful. There are things worse than thieves in these woods. I’d hate for someone your age to run into anything terrible.”

“It seems I already have.” The woman’s voice grew closer as she continued speaking. “It is not the thief who sneaks in the night that I am worried about. It’s the brutes who push and bully to get their way.”

“Ma’am, I assure you, it will be a quick inspection. Nothing to worry about.”

“And I assure you, you will need more men if you wish to illegally search my wagon.”

“It is not illegal. I have the power vested in me by the Eternal Empire to search anywhere with reasonable—”

“Baked goods,” the old woman interrupted.

“What?”

“It is likely your hounds smell my baked goods. I have a small oven within and finished baking some chocolate chip scones not that long ago. I will not have you ransacking my home because you do not feed your animals properly. Now, if you’ll leave me be, I was in the middle of something very important.”

The footsteps around the wagon halted, though the dogs’ paws continued to scrape against the ground in an effort to reach their target. Mina slid away from the door, heart beating faster than it had while she was running through the woods. One old lady would not prevent them from entering, not when the dogs smelled her. They would open the wagon and drag her out, and she would—

Mina bumped a stack of crates, sending something clattering to the ground. She stilled, straining to listen outside. The conversation continued, its participants unaware. She was about to breathe again when the clattering continued, snaking its way around the wagon like little claws clacking against the wood. Closer and closer it came to her, and she tucked her legs in tight as the sound darted past her. She bit down hard on one hand to halt the scream that filled her throat. Her eyes opened wide, pulling in all the light they could find as she looked through the wagon, but the dark was much too thick. As suddenly as the clattering started, it came to a stop somewhere nearby, out of sight. For long moments, the wagon was silent again. Mina tried convincing herself that something had just fallen and rolled around, that her mind was playing tricks on her. It was enough to get herself breathing again. One breath at a time.

“We act under the power of the Eternal Empire, and we will be forced to restrain you if you do not cooperate.”

Mina had missed something in the conversation. They were close now, just on the other side of the door. She heard the dogs scraping at the ground and pictured the slobber flying from their jaws as they barked.

Breathe.

She closed her eyes and pulled the blanket tighter. Calm is what she needed now. Despite everything, she needed to find peace within herself. There was one thing she could do, though she had promised never to do it again. But this was an emergency, and she doubted the precautions mattered anymore. They were meant to protect her, and they had failed. Maybe her cursed power would succeed instead.

The feeling thrummed at the back of her mind, a valve ready to be released and fill her with pulsating energy. The conversation continued outside, the woman arguing to no avail. They would be stalled only so long; it was two—four if you counted the dogs—against one, and she would surely be overpowered. When she was, they would not find Mina within. She opened her eyes, letting the wealth of power fill her limbs, burning warmth back into them. Then she pushed—

The growls turned to whimpers, the whimpers into whining. Fear infected the hounds, and their yelping broke Mina’s concentration. Her power fled, leaving her body devoid of the buzzing energy, and the chill renewed its assault. Mina crawled to the door, and through the gap, she could just make out a dog, its tail curved between its legs. It yelped and howled as if it were being beaten, but the soldier holding its leash only looked at it in confusion and anger. It fought against its handler, pulling him off balance. The dog was desperate to reach the woods, to be as far away from the wagon as possible. Obscenities were hurled at the hound like stones, but still it tugged.

Mina could hear the other dog, and though she couldn’t see, its voice told much the same story.

What is happening?

“Blasted mutt! What’s wrong with you?” The soldier pulled hard on the leash, enough to jerk the dog back and onto its side. Its limbs flailed in the air for a moment, its fearful howling ceaseless. Then it was on its feet again, and it bolted with what slack the leash allowed. Caught unprepared, the leash tore from the man’s hand, and the dog disappeared into the night.

The man stared after the dog for a moment; his face bloomed red, though Mina wasn’t sure if it was colored by anger or embarrassment. He looked at his companion, but before the other soldier could say anything, the first man bolted into the night after the runaway hound, obscenities once more his useless weapon of choice.

“Oh my, they seem so frightened,” the old woman said, sounding unworried.

The remaining soldier yelled after his retreating companion, his own dog pulling hard against its lead. “These mutts are worth a fortune. He better not—”

The words died in his mouth, and Mina saw a flash of shadow as the second dog gave chase to the first. How had that one gotten loose? Mina shifted within the wagon, risking noise to get a better angle. The soldier stood near the doors, only a few steps away. He stared at something beyond the wagon, beyond where the woman’s voice originated. His face was pale as moonlight.

“What in the hells?” he mumbled.

“Run.”

The single word scared Mina more than anything else that night. It seeped like an ooze through the cracks of the wagon’s walls, coating her in a film of fear as the boards beneath her vibrated as if to escape that horrible sound. A shockwave of terror emanated from that single word, and Mina felt tears form in her eyes at the thought of facing the owner of that voice.

The man had no walls to hide behind, so his tears ran freely. His limbs locked in place, face frozen in a mask of fear. Then his knees buckled. The collision with the ground seemed to send a wave of sense up to his brain, and the startled soldier scrambled back to his feet and charged after his companion.

Mina’s own limbs locked beneath her; despite the blanket, she shook uncontrollably. She could hide from the men, maybe even from the dogs. But whatever was out there now, it was sure to kill the old woman and her next. Mina’s powers couldn’t stop something like that. Not when a single word could send a soldier running. Not when she was so far from calm.

Mina trembled beneath the blanket, her mind spinning in circles. Hide. She had to stay here. Maybe it wouldn’t check the wagon. Maybe—

“Thank you, dear. Those two were certainly trouble.”

Mina froze. Surely the woman wasn’t speaking to her—

“You’re very welcome, my lady,” a smooth, resonant voice responded. It was the same voice that had told the soldier to run, Mina could tell that much. But different now, laced with kindness instead of horror. “I shall run them in circles for a bit to tire them.”

“Make sure to drop them off somewhere not too unpleasant.”

“Of course, my lady.”

Mina listened for the retreating footsteps that never came. The speaker was silent as a wolf treading through the woods—if he had moved at all. She would have to wait longer to ensure he had departed. Then she would—

“You can come out now. Everyone’s gone.”

Mina stiffened, her breath caught midway to her lungs. She waited, wondering if the woman was speaking to someone else again.

After a long pause, the old woman continued, “Or you can stay in there if you wish.” There was no doubt these comments were directed at Mina now. “Try not to harm Nugget please. He’s a good boy, despite his looks.”

Nugget?

Mina shivered as a tentative, single clack sounded in the wagon. She turned her head. A small, porcelain-white face stared at her, black holes for eyes, bared, sharp teeth shining bright in the sliver of light. Mina failed to hold back the yelp this time, and as she jumped away from the creature, she fell into the door, which swung open at her sudden impact and deposited her roughly onto the ground in a puff of dirt and grunt of pain.

A cat, free from the restraints of flesh, muscle, and organ, stretched on the edge of the wagon, as if that would do anything for its skeletal body. Then it jumped down next to Mina and plodded over to the woman, who had returned to her chair by the fire. A partially-knitted scarf coiled in her lap as she continued to work on it. The skeletal cat found a comfortable piece of the woman’s dress, curled up at her feet, and licked its non-existent crotch with a non-existent tongue.

“I don’t have another chair, but there was a log over there that didn’t look too pokey that you could use as a seat.”

Mina stood, blanket still draped around her shoulders, and walked toward the fire, drawn by its heat. She stopped short, and tremors ran through her limbs at the denial of warmth. “How do you know I’m not evil?”

“I have learned in my time that if two men are chasing a young girl, it is never the girl’s fault.” The woman looked up from her knitting and smiled at Mina. Her pale skin was painted orange by the firelight, but her purple eyes sparkled. She was even older than Mina had originally thought. Wrinkles gathered in crowds around her eyes and mouth. Her hair was whiter than the moon. She had to be ancient.

“My father’s dead because of me.” Mina was surprised at the words. Not because of what they said, but because they had been spoken at all. Her throat constricted, and a heat burned behind her eyes. Yet the words continued. “Killers aren’t good people.”

The old lady set her knitting down in her lap, her expression turning somber. “How was it your fault, dear?”

“Those soldiers, they work for a man. He wants me for my…” Tears rolled down both cheeks, and she brushed them away quickly. She didn’t want the stranger to think her a baby. “He just wants me, and he killed my father to get me. It’s my fault.” Now the tears came in earnest, and she couldn’t stop them. She shoved her face into the blanket and fought against the sobs that rose in her throat. She failed.

Two arms reached around Mina and pulled her into a tight embrace, engulfing her in the many layers of the woman’s dress. Shock halted Mina’s tears, and she lifted her head from the blanket and looked up at the woman.

“That’s not evil, dear. That’s your father’s love.” She brushed a loose hair back from Mina’s face. “You remind me so much of my dear granddaughter. Evelyn put too much on her shoulders just as you are doing now. Those two men, and the one who ordered them, are the only ones responsible for what happened. The actions of others are never your fault.”

Mina broke.

Grief and exhaustion overwhelmed her. She cried into the dress of the kind stranger until her tears dried up. Her voice fled from her in great, heaving sobs until it cracked and turned to coughing. And the woman held her for as long as Mina needed to be held. A few minutes or a few hours, she did not know. All she knew was the black pit of despair that hollowed out a place within her. It hurt worse than her bruised and cut feet. Worse than her scraped knees. So much worse than any pain she had felt before.

When Mina’s cheeks were sticky with drying tears and her breathing had settled into something more controlled, the woman led her to the not-too-pokey log. She provided Mina with half of a meat pie and two chocolate chip scones—all immediately devoured—and she cleaned and bandaged Mina’s feet. The woman found a large pair of boots in her wagon and stuffed them with cloth until they almost fit Mina’s much smaller feet.

The warmth from the flames and the food rushed to meet each other and drove the shivering from Mina’s body. The boots and the blankets trapped the heat within her, and for the first time since her father died, the chill departed.

The woman introduced herself as Gam Gam and offered Mina a place to sleep within her wagon. Mina cried again that night—soft, silent tears—before she fell asleep with Gam Gam’s soft breaths to one side of her and Nugget curled up on the other.

Fatherless and on the run, Mina wasn’t sure what was to come in the days ahead of her. But Fate had a way of finding the right person at the right time, and Fate had found her Gam Gam. She would never have guessed how much Gam Gam would need her as well.