The Necromancer: New Edition: Republished 2016

by Alex Stargazer

  “Are you suggesting treason?” another member asked, indistinct from the crowd.

  Nateldorth called for silence.

  “While I’m sure you are uncomfortable with this, our new Queen is not yet prepared to deal with such complex matters. Therefore it falls to the other coalition – us – to perform this… sad but necessary task.”

  “Isn’t this murder?”

  “Perhaps it is, but we cannot risk the safety of the Arachadian people,” Nateldorth replied.

  More noise went into the room, but Nateldorth could see they were the minority. Most wore resigned looks.

  A woman spoke up. She possessed eyes the colour of mahogany; and long, smooth hair the colour of chocolate. She had always been a supporter of Nateldorth.

  “I support Nateldorth. I have met some fae in my lifetime; I can’t say I would want to do so again. They would not hesitate to feed you to a pack of vultures if it could bring them something. I certainly wouldn’t want our children anywhere near them.”

  Finally, everyone calmed down.

  “So, do I have your support?” Nateldorth asked.

  There were murmurs of “yes” and “no”. But the people voting yes were evidently in the majority.

  “Very well then. Haldric, Silver Mage of the Order of Peacekeepers: I command you to destroy Araya of the Fae, using whatever means necessary. To do so will earn you the respect of all the mages in Arachadia, as well as,” Nateldorth smiled, “two hundred gold pieces.”

  “Great Mage Nateldorth, I will do as you command. Me and my fellow Silvers will assassinate our target, and… we thank you for the most generous offer.”

  “Then it is done.” The mages dispersed, muttering among themselves. The three Silver Mages also disappeared, presumably to prepare for their difficult task.

  Nateldorth’s advisor, Atar, motioned towards Nateldorth.

  “I do not like the feel of this, Nateldorth,” he said.

  “Atar, I know you are highly regarded for your work in advising us; but do you think that this time, you should reconsider?” Nateldorth questioned. In truth, he did not really care what Atar thought: the man was old, and too far behind his time.

  Atar chuckled, but it was a humourless sound.

  “I know you all. Who cares what little old Atar thinks? I’m too old for any of this, you all leave unsaid. But let it be clear: Neras will find out, and you will regret your actions one day.” Nateldorth made to interrupt, but the old mage continued on.

  “So don’t bother arguing with me – conduct your treacherous mission. But you have been warned.”

  Atar walked out, leaving Nateldorth to his thoughts.

  But Atar was the least of Nateldorth’s problems.

  ***

  Nateldorth looked at the darkened room of his apartment. He might have stopped it then, but he didn’t. It would be what would happen after that would remain embedded in his mind, torturing him for years to come.

  ***

  It is done, Haldric telepathised. We have taken the target down. Remind me never to fight these damn Fae: she injured both of my accomplices before we took her down. Bloody powerful creatures.

  Excellent, Nateldorth replied.

  But he could feel the man’s uncertainty.

  What is it Haldric?

  Sir… there’s a baby here. I think it’s hers. Was hers.

  Nateldorth paused in the building, shocked.

  Is it human? he asked.

  I don’t know what she is, sir. She seems harmless enough.

  Nateldorth had to make a decision. He regretted killing the faerie, he really did. But killing a baby, that was at least part-human?

  Haldric… call my friend Terrin. He will help you.

  ***

  A ridiculous thought came to Nateldorth: Could Neras be responsible for all of this?

  Neras had disappeared after Araya’s death. The public had heard of her death, and a funeral had been hosted in the capital. Thousands had been present.

  Nateldorth had made everyone swear an oath to secrecy. He had still attended the funeral, not wanting to appear rude… or draw suspicion.

  He hadn’t seen Neras at the funeral. No one had seen him anywhere. They always assumed heartbreak had killed Neras, or maybe he had gone on to live as some hermit. Certainly, Nateldorth didn’t believe anyone had leaked.

  But he knew Neras was smart. What if he figured it out? He remembered that Haldric had died in mysterious circumstances a few years later. He didn’t know what happened to the other mages; but he had no doubts it would not have been pleasant.

  Could it be?

  TWENTY SIX

  “Leira!”

  Linaera walked out of the library, wondering at what could get Neshvetal so fired up.

  “Master?” Leira asked. Sounded like she didn’t know either.

  “Check what my undead are seeing.”

  Linaera had no idea what that was supposed to mean. She guessed necromancer nonsense.

  “What the—”

  Linaera found them in the old throne room, which was free from undead – thank God.

  “What’s going on?” she asked, unwilling to be left out of the loop.

  Neshvetal gave her a look. It was one that professed total erudition, though it had no real basis. Or so she thought.

  “Something’s killing our undead. It seems to be some sort of apparition – though we can’t see much. It seems to be a tornado; and from it thunder springs at our undead. The Dragethir are trying to attack it, but they get blown out of the sky before they can even get close.”

  For a moment, Linaera had no idea what was going on. Then, realisation hit in: It’s Eiliara you muppet. She’s doing it! She fought to keep her face devoid from emotion. Neshvetal’s look intensified.

  “Do you think it the work of an elemental?” Leira queried.

  “That’s what I’m afraid of. I’ll fly there and deal with the thing. Leira, you are in charge of keeping Linaera safe, both from whatever this might be and from herself.”

  Linaera frowned. She did not need saving from herself.

  But Leira seemed to agree.

  “Yes, Master. Do you think you can handle it on your own though?”

  “Of course I can. No one has beaten me in decades.”

  Suddenly, there was a breeze. One of the windows had opened, presumably by Neshvetal. It was afternoon; and even so, the air could have made ice shiver. The cold didn’t surprise Linaera; but the breeze around Neshvetal did.

  He laughed, then zoomed through the window. It closed behind him.

  “Geez, I know you talked about this but…”

  “It’s really something to see, isn’t it?” Leira filled in, looking more than a little bit envious.

  Inside, Linaera’s mind was churning. Eiliara wanted her to get out; this was her distraction. Yet Linaera hadn’t thought much about how she was going to get out. First step: Leira, her brain filled in for her.

  She wondered how on Arachadia she was going to overwhelm her – even with her fancy new light trick, she doubted she was a match for her. But then, she thought, there’s more than one way to skin a goat.

  “Leira… I forgot to tell you this, but… there’s something I need your help with,” she said, hoping to sound embarrassed.

  “Really? What’s that?”

  “There’s a book on the top shelf in the room I was in, which I can’t reach,” Linaera continued. It wasn’t a lie, not really; the book in question was quite large, and very high up. The next thing she would say would be a lie, though.

  “Why don’t you—”

  “Use magic? Yeah, but…”

  “Oh, you’re tired and trying to conserve your energy are you? Oh sure, tell me where it is and I’ll get it for you.”

  Okay, so she had managed not lie. That was worth something, right? Not that taking advantage of someone’s kindness – even that of Leira – was a good thing.

  Linaera went back to the library, hoping that her drumm
ing heart wouldn’t give her away. Leira seemed not to notice.

  Back in the room, the Strange Charms of Fae lay open on her desk; Leira gave it a passing glance.

  “Which is it?”

  “Oh, right.” Linaera pointed towards the large, black volume at the back of the book cases, right towards the top.

  Leira grinned.

  “Oh, I’m sure you’ll enjoy that one.”

  She walked towards the book cases; Linaera felt when she was about to cast the spell.

  “Occi—” She never got to finish her sentence. Linaera bashed her on the back of the head, the Strange Charms of Fae solid in her hand. Leira’s eyes rolled back. Then she collapsed.

  I hope she’s not dead, she thought. Then: Get a grip, Linaera. You probably should have killed her anyway, considering she kidnapped you. Somehow, she couldn’t make herself to kill Leira. Instead, she dragged her on the chair, even puffing it up to make it more comfortable. Pathetic.

  She began thinking of all the things she would need outside. Item number one: clothes. What, a girl had to look stylish while she was escaping from two crazed necromancers, right?

  She ran back to her room. Leira had made good her promise – the wardrobe was filled with clothes. Linaera was wearing the plain white robes she preferred. She ditched those in favour of thick linen trousers and shirt, thick woollen jumper, all varying shades of brown and grey. She donned a vest and warm boots (also brown). Finally, she took a dark winter coat that stretched to her knees (not brown).

  Item number two: Food. What good would starving do her if she was trying to escape?

  So, she made her way to the kitchen she had spied. She had some sort of weird notion that they made the undead cook their meals, but apparently not. (Perhaps the idea of making those leering monsters cook chicken soup was too disturbing even for them. Or perhaps they had already tried – the undead didn’t strike her as the cooking type.)

  The kitchen itself was all made from chestnut wood, except for the work tops; those were granite. She raided the drawers, knowing that the tasty vegetables on the table or the soup steaming in the iron cooker wouldn’t last long. She found bread (where do they get the flour?), as well as some hard cheese. She packed those in, and was also delighted to find some dried meat.

  It all felt a bit surreal, like something out of a bad play. But she knew time wasn’t on her side: she had to get out, before Neshvetal came back. Or Leira awoke. She didn’t know which was worse.

  But Item Number Three was next on the list: money. Linaera knew that she had to get back to the mage academy, but to do that, she would need to buy more food… and accommodation. She didn’t plan on sleeping in tents all day.

  She began searching the rooms: she tried the kitchen, where there was nothing; her rooms, where there was also nothing; she even tried the throne room, where there was… nothing. She went through drawers, cabinets, everything you could thing of.

  She decided that the necromancers probably had little use for money – and that there were plenty of other valuable things to steal. Well, it’s not like it’s theirs anyway.

  She decided to try Neshvetal’s study; the expression “in the dragon’s den there lay the greatest jewels” seemed most apt. Once more she climbed. Outside, it was almost dark – the night before was clear in her mind.

  It feels weird with him not being around, she thought, trying not to dwell on the fact that she had become accustomed to the necromancer’s presence. Her father’s presence.

  No. Don’t be ridiculous.

  She scanned the study: and there – something shiny!

  It was lying on Neshvetal’s desk, along with all of his books on Necromancy. It looked out of place: it was a necklace, wrought from what appeared to be gold. A jewel crowned it. One that looked an awful lot like a diamond.

  No. It’s too pretty, Linaera thought. It was indeed remarkable, and surely valuable to the necromancer if it was lying on his desk.

  Neshvetal? Like something other than power and death? Don’t be ridiculous, Linaera chided herself. Besides, it felt as if it somehow belonged to her. (Typical thief logic, Lin.)

  When she took it – ready to put in a woven rucksack just raided from the kitchen – she was surprised at how hard it felt. Gold was usually soft, right?

  Linaera could also see that the diamond was multi-faceted, and made beautiful reflections despite the dim light.

  Linaera realised she still had to get out. She looked across the castle: undead still remained, even though Neshvetal had probably taken many of them with him. They milled about, looking restless. And hungry.

  For a moment, she thought her plans would end here. That Neshvetal would find her, Leira would wake up, and it would all be for nothing.

  Then she remembered that she could do unusual things with light. A plan formed – Linaera had no idea if the undead could even see, in the traditional sense, but she had to try.

  She began breathing more slowly, calming herself down. She chanted the spell again, this time with more confidence.

  She was back in what she called the Shadow World.

  She was only distantly aware of her body: everything around her was dark. The little particles were chaotically spinning about, just like last time. Linaera became fascinated with their movements; the world in which she had come from became distant, unimportant even.

  Why had she come here, if not to study these little things?

  But something nagged at her, and wouldn’t go away: you have to get out. With a sigh of frustration, Linaera went back to her original plan, deciding to first use these queer particles, and then study them.

  Linaera opened her eyes again. The whole event hadn’t taken more than a couple of seconds, but she felt as if much longer had passed. She looked: and she saw a ball of radiant hues, right where she had imagined it to be. I’m getting better at this, she thought proudly.

  Now for the second part of the plan: would they fall for it? They stared dumbly at it for a while; an almost... forlorn expression lay on their faces. Linaera thought her plan had failed. But then, sure enough, they began to move forward. This would be her only chance at escape.

  She raced down the stairs, past the unconscious Leira, past the awful corridors, until she arrived to where she had come through – the gate.

  Linaera wondered whether she had to do anything, but it opened of its own accord. Maybe with its masters away or otherwise indisposed, the thing had reverted to obeying whatever was inside. Regardless of the reason, Linaera was grateful she had one less hurdle to go past.

  The undead were circling the ball of light. Linaera admired her handiwork; it was pretty impressive, for a novice. It hovered a little above the ground, lighting the snow – and undead – below it. It changed colours, creating a bewildering kaleidoscope that was fascinating to the eye. But no time was left for sightseeing. She had to get out.

  She sneaked away, trying to remember where she had gone on the waggon. She guessed that she had to go south – obviously – and that particular direction would be opposite to the gate.

  The snow crunched under her feet. The moon was in its waxing stages, and provided just enough light for Linaera to see. The air was cold – but bearable.

  That was, until she heard the shout.

  ***

  “LINAAAAAEEEEERAAAA!”

  Neshvetal.

  She turned. The undead were forming groups; soon they were in search formation.

  Linaera turned back, and began to move faster. She guessed they were unlikely to find her at night-time, but she still didn’t want to risk it.

  Everything felt a little surreal: she couldn’t quite believe that it was cold, fresh air she was inhaling; that it was real snow under her feet; and that she wouldn’t wake up with Leira shouting at her.

  It almost felt too good to be true.

  It was.

  She didn’t quite notice it at first: for it was slight. But there was a definite breeze were there hadn’t been before. The air fe
lt even colder; every breath was made painful.

  She looked up. The moon had been obscured: only darkness remained.

  The breeze turned into a wind, and then a storm. Snow blew into her face – an irritation at first, then a veil to her vision. Soon, it was a full scale blizzard.

  Thunder exploded. It lit the entire scene: undead, searching everywhere behind; the snow, initially an item of fun, now a testament to the harshness of the world around her; and forests, ominous and dark.

  Linaera was finding it increasingly hard to move; her fingers were numb, useless liabilities.

  Idiot! You forgot he could control the freakin’ weather. Did you really think you could run away from him? she thought bitterly. Panic began to settle in. She imagined herself dying in the fierce storm that surrounded her, or else being devoured by the enraged necromancer’s undead.

  She had thought the world would end in fire – but perhaps this cold, harsh landscape was far more terrible.

  In her storm of panic, a poem came to the forefront of her mind, obscure but somehow important:

  When the person you trust most, has betrayed you.

  When the dead walk again,

  And when the world itself has turned against you;

  Remember that your kin,

  Are the ones who will help you.

  Who had said it? She wondered. What was its name?

  Thuruntel. The Wose. Linaera had never understood it – especially the bit about her family. She was an orphan, after all. She had always imagined they were a group of mages, or maybe a long-lost relative. But now, she considered something else.

  If Neshvetal was right… and I’m part fae… who are my family? She wondered who else was related to the fae. The Elves. Of course.

  In one final act of desperation, Linaera headed for the direction of the forests. If the Elves lived there, surely they would help her. If not… she was dead anyway,

  More thunder. She could no longer see the undead; but she saw the trees, swaying in the wind – a marker of hope.

  Just a little bit more, she urged herself. Just a little bit more, and you’ll be there.

  It seemed so close, yet so impossibly far away. The cold, cold air burned into her lungs with the viciousness of a thousand undead. Her vision tunnelled, focusing on that one goal: escaping the roaring wind and the heartless snow.