Free Ways of Power 1: Power Rises by R. M. Willis

firmly upon the solid wood with his knuckles, preferring not to touch the skeletal hand-shaped brass knocker; he never did like the idea of shaking hands with death.
    Karakas had made and affixed the knocker himself, finding the idea grotesquely funny. After only a moment or two the door swung silently open.
    Rancoth and Dorbin were greeted by an exceptionally corpulent man who was between them in height. He had thick wavy black hair and burnt-orange colored glowing eyes behind small round spectacles. He was wearing a long black and silver robe that went clear to the floor. His pudgy face was clean shaven, and was split in a wide grin.
    "Rancoth! Grecrum said you weren't coming today, or for a while yet. And you've brought Dorbin with you, I see. How wonderful, please, please come in." Karakas had a mellow voice, and was always in a pleasant mood. Being a practitioner of death he was all too familiar with its cost, and thus he enjoyed the pleasantries of life as often as possible. He preferred to look in sharp contrast to his skeletal profession, being sure to put on the pounds whenever he felt remotely frail.
    "I'm sorry, Karakas, but we can't come in; we've a long way to go, and I'm eager to get started. I need some advice before we depart," Rancoth said with a smile. Dorbin grunted his approval. He liked Karakas, but Rancoth knew he had no desire to enter the bone master's mansion.
    "Well, suit yourselves. More cake for me! What can I do for you then?"
    "I summoned Gillbrick the other day, at Dorbin’s. It was its usual nasty little self, and for just an instant I thought it was going to turn on me. It was just about to throw a ball of hell fire at Dorbin, and when I made it stop, it looked over its shoulder at me and I knew if I hadn't told it what to do with the fire it was going to throw it right at me."
    Karakas's smile was replaced with a look of contemplation. "You have to understand, Ran, that those beasties have to obey your orders. They do not, however, have to respect you, and they certainly have free will of their own as long as it does not interfere with a direct order from you. This means that they can hurt you if you give them the opportunity."
    Rancoth sighed. "Have you ever had similar problems with the dead you summon? If so, how did you overcome them? I can't very well be in the middle of nowhere and call upon a minion only to have it kill Dorbin and me."
    "Yhea no shite!" Dorbin added from the side.
    "Well, Ran, most of the dead I summon are as happy to see their living relatives as those relatives are to see them. So it's not a problem I've ever really had to face. The only advice I can give you is what you already know. Be sure that all of your commands are given quickly, and decisively. Your only other option is to do something that would earn the respect of your minions, and I know I don't have to tell you what that would be."
    Rancoth sighed with defeat, but did his best not to let his disappointment show. "Do something evil--I can't do that." 
    Karakas patted him on the arm. "I know, Ran, I know."
    "Well, thanks for your time; I look forward to seeing you again upon our return."
    Karakas smiled encouragingly. "Trust yourself, Ran, and you'll do fine. Take care and safe journey. You too, Dorbin."
    Rancoth turned to Dorbin, "Shall we then?"
    "You've got the map! Lead the way." Both men waved to Karakas who stood and watched as they started south.
     

11
     
                  Several hours had passed since Rancoth and Dorbin left Karakas' house. The sun was already well on its way to midday, and had started to warm the land with its loving glow.
    "It's get'n hot!" Dorbin exclaimed. "I should've brrought a hat."
                  "Well, we're not out of the city yet. We could stop at a shop and get you one. I wouldn't want that shiny head of yours to start turning too red. Some hungry bird might swoop down and start pecking, mistaking it for an apple," Rancoth