Mr. munch on's Arc

Chapter 2 of 4

Mr. munch on barred his door and leaned against it. The wounded hound howled somewhere below, still hunting. But a nearer problem sat on his floor. His raised head-servant slumped against the wall, its orange eye rolling. He pointed left. It lurched right. He said stay. It dragged itself in a slow circle. The raising had worked, but the control had not. If it disobeyed at the wrong moment, it would leave his throat bare when the hound came. He opened his log and read his own notes by firelight. Every past raising had failed the same way: he had rushed the binding. A body woke, but its will stayed loose. He needed to force the servant's obedience before the hound broke through his wall. He decided to try a harder method. He would bind the head inside a cage and teach it that his voice meant walls closing in. He dragged the spiked iron cabinet to the center of the room. He shoved the dead head inside and swung the door until the spikes hovered near its neck. Then he spoke his commands. Sit. The head obeyed, and he eased the door open a finger's width. Rise. It rose, and he opened it more. Each time it disobeyed, he pressed the spiked door closer. The eye tracked him now. The neck coiled toward his voice, not away. A slow clap filled the room. Mr. munch on spun. A giant sat folded in his doorway, too big for it, red-skinned, five horns curling from a white painted face. A clown's grin was carved into that face for good. Big shoes crossed at the ankles. Mr. munch on had never seen him, but he knew a debt-collector when one walked through a barred door. "Nice trick," the giant said. "You know how it goes. Most necromancers can't hold a thing that long." He tapped a crystal flower on the shelf, the shimmering hibiscus Mr. munch on kept for luck. "Cute. Won't help you." "Who are you?" "Ragna core. I collect. Three souls in this town still owe me." The grin did not move. "Not you. Yet." He nodded at the caged head. "Finish. I like watching good work." Mr. munch on turned back and shut the door slow, then open, then shut. He said his name for the servant, a single word. The head snapped to face him and held, eye steady, neck taut, waiting. He opened the cage. The servant stepped out and stopped at his heel. It did not drift. It did not circle. It obeyed. He had done it. His first true binding held. Ragna core stood, ducking the ceiling, still grinning. "Good," he said, flat now. "You'll want that servant sharp. That third soul I need?" He pointed one thick finger at Mr. munch on's chest. "It's yours. I'll be back to collect." He stepped out and was gone.