The Necromancer: New Edition: Republished 2016

by Alex Stargazer

  Her heartbeat slowed; she felt so warm. She distantly recalled, as if from another time, that you feel warm before you die. Yet instead of causing panic, Linaera felt herself relax, all the terror disappearing from her mind.

  Why don’t you have a nap until this blows over? a treacherous part of her mind whispered. It’ll be nice and cozy in the snow.

  Her resistance slowly vanished, drained like a river in a desert. She only wanted to curl up, away from all this noise and nastiness, to spend her time in a nice, happy place with the penguins.

  She collapsed mere feet from the forest.

  TWENTY SEVEN

  “Deriën! Come on, I’ve made you your favourite: cooked spinach with pine needle tea!” his mother said, the Elf-tongue making her words melodious; a pleasure for any child.

  “Just a bit mother! I’m playing with some of the vines!” small-Deriën replied.

  His mother laughed joyfully, her voice airy, like the wind.

  “Oh my, Deriën, you’re always playing with the vines! You’ve already shown me you can make them do art, what are you planning on doing now?”

  There was a brief silence.

  “Yes, mother. I’ll come right down,” small-Deriën told her, appearing an instant later.

  It was a bright day, and the golden sun illuminated everything in startling colour: from the majestic, rocky mountains, guarding over the forest; to the forest itself, leaves shining brilliantly, and flowers displaying a pattern of iridescent colours.

  Small-Deriën prided himself on being the best of the young elves, already being able to control vines and flowers, as well as being skilled in more general magics. He could shock his friends whenever they touched their toys, much to their annoyance. He had even healed an injured bee he found on the window sill of his house.

  His “house” was more like a hut, really. It was made from wood, and possessed a thatched roof. It was modestly sized and – as most elf-buildings were – single storey. The only thing that wasn’t wood were the windows: they were made from a special resin, extracted from trees.

  Mother was tall, as elves were, and had the same sharp features. Her eyes shone green like the bugs small-Deriën was so keen on, and she looked delicate as a flower. Notwithstanding the fact that she could rip you in two, but small-Deriën didn’t know that.

  “Come, Deriën, you’ll have plenty of time to play out in the sun after you eat.”

  ***

  Big Deriën snorted with derision at the memory. Right now, there was nothing sunshine-y about the forest: darkness reigned supreme, complete with hail, thunder and lightning. It didn’t help that the last elves to go on guard duty around here hadn’t come back.

  He still didn’t know why he had let his friend Gadalthal persuade him to cover his guard duty. That guy liked women way too much. Men, too.

  His eyes surveyed the scene in front of him. There was nothing but snow beyond the forest, no sign of the rumoured necromancer his elven colleagues had been discussing about. Pity. I could have done with some slaying right now, he thought darkly.

  In truth, guard duty was a pretty boring task. Maybe he should have signed up for medic duty instead of being a Hunter.

  Then, something caught his eye.

  At first, he thought it no more than an illusion. No one had ever been sighted beyond the forests for over a decade. Yet Deriën was convinced he had seen something.

  He drew his cloak around him – the standard green of the Hunters, along with the lighter leafy linen clothes underneath. He could easily have cast a spell and save himself the bother, but his supervisor, Elda, would have a rant about he was “not to abuse magic for selfish purposes”.

  He walked towards the site, all the while pondering the idea that someone would do anything that wasn’t selfish.

  What he saw made such idle thoughts immediately disappear.

  On the snow, unbelievably, there was a girl. A human girl. He tried to tell himself that no humans lived this far north, but he couldn’t deny what was in front of him.

  She was wearing a dark coat. He couldn’t see much more than that, however, even with his excellent elven-vision.

  He pondered what to do with her. Humans had never helped him, nor his family. They hadn’t even interacted much with his people, whom he freely admitted, were somewhat… reclusive.

  On the other hand, they hadn’t done anything against them, either. In the end, the pathetic-looking creature made up his mind. Who would fall asleep out here, anyway?

  He lifted her up – she was surprisingly light, for a human. Not that he wasn’t stronger than even the fittest human, but still, carrying people around was hard work.

  He brought her into the forest. Maybe he’d get a thank-you before she ran off the next morning, to milk the cow or do whatever humans did.

  He felt, quite detachedly, that she was cold. Did humans run like this normally? He tried to remember what he had been taught by his Elder. Oh right, probably not. She must be frozen, what with such a fragile human body and all.

  He wondered yet again if he should bother. But once started, once finished.

  He made some nearby vines form a rudimentary hammock. He placed her on the hammock, and formed a fire with a quick spell (and the aid of some dead branches).

  Out in the light of the fire, he was able to observe her more clearly.

  Her hair was like a long river of silver, and glowed faintly in the light of the fire. Her eyes were closed, but he could still see how fine her eyelashes were. It was very at odds with his notion of humans – he had thought them to be brutish creatures, clumsily blundering about in a world they knew very little about.

  Her lips were thin and drawn out, probably because of the cold. Her breathing was calm, but staccato. Oh, right. Maybe I should help her.

  He placed his hands on her wrist; he brought part of his consciousness into her body. He immediately realised that she was in bad need of help: parts of her extremities were already partially frozen, the effects of frostbite. Her heart beat was slow and despondent, slower even than that of an elf. And she was very, very cold.

  At least the hail had died down a little, so he could work on her properly.

  He knew that he had to use magic for such a serious case of hypothermia and frostbite; he also knew that time was scarce.

  He began with the most dangerous condition: hypothermia. If left untreated, it could kill her. (Again he wondered why he should save her. Yet deep down, he knew that evil happened when good people did nothing. Besides, it would have been very un-elf like.)

  Hypothermia was a relatively easy condition to treat. You had to feed energy to the body; you had to do so gradually – for too hastily done would mean death – but it was simple all the same.

  So Deriën fed her energy. He needed no spells to do so, the magic being ever so trivial.

  Her breathing calmed; her heartbeat sped up; her cheeks became rosy.

  Now to the real challenge.

  Frostbite was undoubtedly one of the peskiest conditions one could encounter. It went like this: direct blood flow to the extremities, and you could stop the heart; try and heat the blood, and you could damage the veins; do any of this too fast, and she would die; do any of it too slow, and she would lose her fingers.

  Yet Deriën was the most skilled of healers. He was not afraid.

  And so he fed her energy, gradually, slowly, keeping track of her every move. Then he said:

  “Atráth siúcra.”

  His mind entered her body.

  To the Uninitiated Observer, it would have appeared like chaos. Deriën’s mind looked out into a tunnel: if it could be called that. Its walls were scarred, pockmarked like the mole’s gluttonous treasure. It was soft, and fluid, and moved as if pushed by an unseen force.

  Blood flowed through it. In this state, Deriën could see the individual cells: some of them were red; others looked nothing like them, being white and much larger; all of them were moving. They travelled in bursts, slowing down,
then being pushed again.

  Deriën sent a message. He acted with chemicals, sending the blood into apparent frenzy. Their direction changed.

  Deriën returned to his body.

  The girl was now breathing steadily. Her fingers changed pallor, losing their eerie whiteness – the signs of impending death – and becoming tinged with rosy hues.

  Deriën exhaled wearily, tired to be doing such complex, exhausting spells at this hour. Still, it was more fun than guard duty.

  The human took that opportunity to wake up.

  ***

  Her eyes opened – they were startlingly blue, like what Deriën imagined the ocean to be. So very different from the browns and greens of his elven brethren.

  They looked confused at first, before gradually focusing and becoming aware of her surroundings.

  “Are you an angel or a demon?” she asked, ironically, Deriën hoped, for that was a question he had no answer to.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, human.”

  She tried to laugh, but it came out more of a strangled choke.

  “Oh that’s good, since it means I’m alive. Hurts too.”

  “You were suffering from severe hypothermia and frostbite,” Deriën informed her coolly.

  “So what, you’re like a healer?”

  “All elves are healers,” Deriën replied, quoting one of his Elders: Gétris.

  “Oh wait you’re an elf?” She sounded slightly awestruck. Clearly, she had never met an elf before. That makes us even, Deriën thought.

  “Yes I am. I presume you’re human, since you were so intellectually capable as to fall asleep in the middle of a snowstorm. Came damn close to dying, too.” Actually, the snowstorm had died down now, just as quickly as it came. The weather had recently become completely bizarre, Deriën had observed.

  “Well, for your information, I was also kidnapped by a necromancer and was running for my life,” she replied, her voice remarkably scathing for one so young.

  Deriën was curious about this “necromancer”.

  “Really? We had heard rumours of such a person living nearby, but we dismissed them as the ramblings of superstitious villagers.”

  She laughed, as if he amused her.

  “Oh he’s no ‘rumour’. Look, I don’t know who is in charge around here, but let me tell you: this guy’s not going to stop. He’s got a massive undead army and he’s planning on taking over Arachadia.”

  “Arachadia is not our concern.”

  “Maybe you don’t care about the countless innocent people that will die – but what makes you sure he won’t come after you next?”

  “This is irrelevant. The Elven council is not concerned with humans,” Deriën replied, inserting a note of finality into his voice. He heard a distinct sound of frustration coming from her. Then she took out a small canvas bag, one that Deriën hadn’t noticed before.

  “Look, I’ll give you something that will convince you to bring me to your ridiculous council.” She took something out of her bag.

  Deriën’s eyes focused and he saw something very unusual: a necklace. The chain was gold, sparkling like the light of autumn suns; it cradled a jewel, a diamond. It shone as if enchanted. Its form was spherical, but with several different triangulations running through it. Inside, there were runes that Deriën believed the girl hadn’t been able to see with her human vision:

  Roughly translated, it meant “hail the faerie friend”.

  That it was made by fae, there was no doubt in Deriën’s mind. Such skillwork was remarkable by elven standards – certainly, no human could achieve this.

  “Where did you get that?” Deriën bent over to look closer. She snatched it away before he could do anything more.

  “So do you want it?”

  “As pretty as it is, my interest is not of profit – I have everything I need here. However, the Elven Council would be very curious as to how you managed to procure an item made by fae.”

  “It’s made by faeries? And I thought it was just a pretty bauble the necromancer stole. I guess…”

  “What?”

  She shook her head.

  “Never mind. You still haven’t introduced yourself.”

  Deriën blinked at the sudden change of subject. Are all humans like this?

  “Why should I introduce myself to you?”

  She shrugged.

  “I was just asking if there was anything you’d prefer me to call you other than ‘elf dick’.”

  A pause.

  “Deriën will be fine, thank you.”

  “Sure thing… Deriën. I’m Linaera.”

  “Linaera…” Deriën tasted the name on his lips. Names could give him an idea about people: most were a John or a Jane. Linaera was an unusual name that spoke of power and determination. And incredibly annoying behaviour, too, it seemed. It was certainly not what he had expected from a human. In fact, this human was quite a few things other than what he had expected.

  “So, assuming this tale of yours isn’t some fabricated lie – how on Arachadia did you manage to get out of the necromancer’s lair? In fact, why were you there in the first place?”

  “I was sent by a high ranking mage in my society – along with a few other mages – to investigate the death of one of our own mages, Eiliara.”

  “And did you find what you were looking for?”

  “Oh yeah. We found a lot more than what we were looking for. I found out about the necromancer, I found that ghosts exist, I found—”

  “What about the others?”

  The girl – Linaera – looked offended at the interruption. Deriën had never thought anything of it; for it was common that Elders interrupted the younger elves if they had something important to say. Deriën definitely thought he was older than her, but then again, these humans were so different.

  “—Well, since you were so rude to interrupt me, I can tell you that I have no idea where the others have gone. The necromancer ambushed us, and kidnapped me… and… they got away, or at least I think – hope – they got away. John never made it though.” Linaera tried to look impassive, but Deriën could see the pain it gave her. Clearly, this “John” had been a friend of hers.

  “That is sad, human. But why did the necromancer ambush you of all people?” Deriën asked her, using the same voice he gave to the younger elves.

  “Me? What, I don’t matter now?” she asked, sounding hurt.

  Deriën repressed a sigh of frustration. Elves were never this difficult.

  “Look, I—”

  “No, it’s okay. But I can’t tell you the answer to your question right now. I’m not even sure I believe it myself.” Deriën let her be – he wasn’t even that concerned about this “necromancer” character anyway.

  “Very well human, I think you should rest now. I will call on my supervisor to assign someone else to guard duty. The Elven Council will be having a long discussion with you – I dare say this necromancer character of yours sounds quite dangerous.” Deriën stopped, suddenly awkward.

  “With that aside, I must admit I am curious about you, human.”

  “Tell me about it. How do you even speak my tongue anyway?”

  “We elves have been blessed with certain… gifts, in our connection with nature. One of those is the ability to communicate with all living things.”

  “Cool. Does that extend to plants as well?”

  “Yes.”

  Deriën could see she was dying to ask more, but then she sagged a little.

  “We’ll talk more tomorrow,” he offered helpfully.

  She could barely nod before she fell asleep. Magical exhaustion, Deriën thought.

  With a weary sigh, he raised himself and made contact with his supervisor. He suspected that this little creature – sleeping so peacefully in his hammock – was going to change a lot of things.

  He wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing.

  TWENTY EIGHT

  “Linaera!” Neshvetal repeated. Naturally, he got no answer.
<
br />   He cursed his undead minions for not being able to find his daughter. Of course they hadn’t been able to find her – she was much too clever for that.

  “Master?” Leira asked nervously.

  “Leira, how did she fool you?” Neshvetal asked, curious despite himself.

  Leira hesitated. Then:

  “She told me to get her a book from the top shelf – I didn’t think anything of it, since she told me that she was magically exhausted.” She didn’t need to complete the rest of her sentence.

  Neshvetal did it for her.

  “—and so she knocked you unconscious with that accursed book of hers. Truly, Leira, how could you fall for it?”

  This seemed to annoy Leira.

  “And how did she fool you, Neshvetal? I don’t remember you thinking there might have been anything suspicious in an ‘elemental’ magically cropping up where there had been none.”

  Neshvetal made to rebuff her, but realised she was right.

  “You’re right, Leira. My daughter is smarter than either of us gave her credit for, although it’s interesting how she managed the diversion.”

  “You don’t think she did it alone, do you?”

  “No, that’s why I’m asking. There is no way she could have made such a thing herself – there was genuine power there, and we would surely have noticed if she had that kind of ability. No, someone must have helped her.

  “The question is: who? Another mage? Yet surely we would have known…”

  “What are you thinking? You told me that whatever was there disappeared when you got there, yet you don’t think that maybe this was just some coincidence and Linaera took the opportunity to escape?”

  “No, I don’t buy it. Do you remember Eiliara?”

  “That Silver Mage who attacked your undead and which you then tracked down and killed? Yeah, clever girl that one.”

  Neshvetal smiled despite himself.

  “Yes, that one. I never considered the possibility, but what if the bitch isn’t gone?”

  “A ghost? I never knew they even existed. That’s quite a stretch don’t you think?”