The Necromancer: New Edition: Republished 2016

by Alex Stargazer

  “Maybe. Maybe not. I did feel something when I got near the place; something I couldn’t identify.”

  Leira sighed, and made herself comfortable on the study chair where Neshvetal had found her.

  “What are we going to do now?”

  Neshvetal pondered.

  “We go ahead as planned. I cannot allow my daughter to distract me from the Cause, and besides, I have a sneaking suspicion we will meet her again.”

  “Do you want me to prepare the army?”

  Neshvetal moved his lips to resemble a smile, but what came out was more like a maniacal sneer.

  “Oh yes. We’ve waited far, far too long for this time.” He laughed.

  Leira joined in.

  “Very well then master, I will do as you bid.” She left, moving with the impressive speed of a necromancer much more experienced than her. Soon, she will be a worthy necromancer. What horrors the world will see… Neshvetal thought enigmatically.

  He remembered why he had decided to give her an apprenticeship…

  ***

  “Hello, Eric,” Leira said.

  Eric – her boyfriend – looked positively frightened. He was a small man, so very different from what Neshvetal would have expected Leira to have. His almond eyes darted between them nervously; his body was like that of a trapped animal.

  “Leira? Wh—what are you doing here? And who’s he?”

  “I am Neshvetal,” Neshvetal proclaimed imperiously.

  “He is my master,” Leira filled in.

  “Your master? Like, uh, teacher right?”

  Leira smiled. It was chillingly out of place with the quaint setting: ebullient sunshine; birds chirping away happily; deer sipping at streams, watching them with pathetic innocence. It had taken great effort and planning on Leira’s part to get him to meet them without contacting his Academy – and in such a remote area, too.

  “So, like, why are we here?” he asked, smiling nervously.

  Leira’s smile became wider, so at odds with what she was about to say next…

  “To kill you.”

  The birds stopped chirping.

  Eric tried to laugh.

  “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “No.”

  He gulped, then tried to run.

  “Servus, consistere hic,” Leira intoned. Tendrils of dark magic wrapped themselves around Eric, like the tendrils of some dark, underwater beast. He tried struggling, then using magic. The dark tendrils simply tightened, keeping him firmly immobile.

  “Why are you doing this?” he asked, in between gasps.

  “Because you are weak and corrupt, Eric. You have tried to persuade me to join you and your council in enforcing the Great Mage’s evil rule, hoping that perhaps he would reward you with riches and power.

  “Because you are an impediment to Arachadia.”

  “—And because you weaken her resolve,” Neshvetal finished.

  “Leira, he’s crazy. Listen to me—” Leira flashed her hand.

  He was dead before he hit the floor.

  “Well done Leira.”

  ***

  Neshvetal smiled at the memory. His apprentice had grown so much since then, and was now ready to join him in his glorious quest.

  He walked calmly to his throne room, and up the stairs to his study. He had a special place planned for this moment, one that his daughter hadn’t noticed.

  He reached his study. Almost invisible, on the ceiling; the faintest outline of a door. A spell was cast, and it opened. A small wooden ladder fell with it – and ingenious piece of craftsmanship, really. (The one who made it had been much too terrified to appreciate his work.)

  The stairs he climbed casually; the roof he reached easily.

  From outside, it would seem conical. In actual fact, its tip was perfectly flat.

  A furious wind was blowing at this altitude; and the cold matched its fury. Neshvetal only thought: Play your theatrics, oh great mountains, for I am greater than thou.

  True to her word, Leira had assembled the army. And what a sight it was.

  Linaera had only seen a small portion of his Grand Army – all of them assembled spanned the entire circumference of the fortress, and much more. They stood out from the picturesque, if rather daunting landscape, like a wolf in a flock of sheep.

  Most of them were Revenants. They looked at him: raw hunger lay in their eyes, and it was not one easily contained.

  “Loyal servants!” Neshvetal called. (He used achten: a trick to magnify the voice.)

  They replied with moans.

  Neshvetal surveyed the mass of creatures at his feet – literally. How he had worked for this, knowing that Araya would have wanted her revenge. And Linaera, though she didn’t yet know it.

  “We are here, today, to begin our quest – our glorious conquest of Arachadia.” More moans greeted him.

  In fairness, most of them didn’t really understand what he was saying – but ego was such a fragile thing…

  “We will march on the towns and cities of Arachadia: the armies and their corrupt mage leaders will fall before out feet, where we will cleanse them from this world, and into our ranks.

  “Prepare for blood! Prepare for death! And most of all… prepare for victory!”

  The world became a deafening mass of moans, roars and inhuman screams as every undead clamoured for his attention.

  Through the whirlwind of chaos, Neshvetal spotted some Dragethir taking off towards his tower.

  On the lead Dragethir, Leira was suspended. The Dragethir cawed out as it flew towards him, then let go of Leira – right next to Neshvetal. Neshvetal had to admit the girl had guts for someone who couldn’t fly.

  “Master?”

  “Well Leira, aren’t you one for theatrics?”

  “Look who’s talking, Mr Speech.”

  Neshvetal laughed at her daring.

  “How long do you believe this campaign will take?” Leira asked him.

  “We outnumber the Arachadian armies significantly. More importantly, they do not know how to fight us.”

  “The mages will.”

  “The mages are few and arrogant. By the time they wake up to the threat, we’ll be overrunning Dresh.

  “It is the common soldier who must carry the battle. And considering the fact that, thanks to the weakness and corruption of their leaders, no person that isn’t a mage or else rich will have learned Arachadian history. We can thus safely conclude they will fall like rats.”

  “Is it fair to kill the innocents though?”

  “Casualties will inevitably result in any war – but our quest is just.”

  Neshvetal spotted the Aêgland he had created lining up below him.

  “Say, what about the Aêgland I have made?” he asked aloud.

  “What about them? Aren’t they a bit unnecessary, considering the size and power of our army?”

  “Leira… what say we give the elves a little surprise?”

  Leira looked at him, and smiled.

  “Indeed.”

  TWENTY NINE

  Linaera awoke. For a few moments, panic set in, as she prepared for another day with the necromancers.

  Then she remembered that she didn’t have to deal with them anymore.

  Phew.

  She got up and stretched the sleep from her weary body. Last night really hadn’t sat well with her: she was exhausted. And hungry. But until then, she could enjoy the beautiful view.

  The forest that had seemed dark and inhospitable last night was now a Winter Wonderland. The various trees – most coniferous – sparkled as the snow glinted off their leaves, even with the meagre sunlight peeking in through the clouds. The light was pink, highlighting that it was still early. There was snow on the ground too, although Linaera’s feet weren’t cold, courtesy to the elf’s hammock.

  Speaking of that, where is he? Linaera thought he was a dick, but he was useful. Saved her from freezing to death, apparently – Linaera thought he was probably saying that just to ann
oy her.

  “Good morning, human. Do you say that to one another?”

  “Yes we do, elf. Sans the ‘human’ part at the end, of course.”

  “Well, we elves don’t refer to each other as ‘elf’ either,” Deriën told her, quite jokingly.

  “Fair point. Now, I’d love to talk with your ‘council’ – or whatever it is you call them – but, I’m starving.”

  “Magical exhaustion, I presume?” he asked with a chuckle.

  “Yeah. Who knew escaping from mad necromancers would be easy?”

  “I’m certain any elf could have made playing sticks of this ‘necromancer’.”

  “Can you elves fly?” Linaera asked, irked by his arrogance.

  “He can fly?” Deriën asked, sounding surprised. Not so smug now, eh? Linaera thought.

  “Yes. Now, did you not hear the part about me not having eaten?”

  “Are humans this demanding, or is this just you?”

  “Oh no, that’s fine, I just would have expected decent treatment being your guest, particularly from a race that is so high-strung in their superiority. Or is that just you?”

  This seemed to amuse Deriën, for he laughed.

  “Very well… Linaera. Perhaps you may enjoy elven cuisine?”

  “It doesn’t involve eating trees, does it?” Linaera asked.

  “No, trees tend to be rather difficult to eat, and not particularly nutritious,” Deriën replied, perfectly straight-faced.

  Linaera sighed.

  “What?”

  “You elves just don’t understand humour, that’s all.”

  Deriën chose to ignore her comment. Instead, he produced a small dish – seemingly from nowhere – and stacked it on a timber support. The pot itself seemed to be made from iron, which surprised Linaera, but then, she guessed that some things just had to be made from metal.

  As he got busy making a fire, Linaera was able to observe him unnoticed. His hair was blond, and quite long – what she imagined spun gold would look like. He would tower over most humans, yet his body was more like that of a runner than a fighter.

  Most remarkable of all though, were his eyes.

  They were like the forest around him: light, sparkling, yet also deeper, like that of a highly polished emerald. Rather than promising laughter, they promised something more… dark.

  This was enhanced by his movements: much too graceful to be mistaken for anything human.

  But Linaera wasn’t so sure if she should be wondering – after all, she wasn’t human, was she?

  With an effort of will, she forced her thoughts away from that particular direction, and instead, focused on what he was meant to be cooking.

  It looked like some sort of vegetable stew, which was odd, considering it was meant to be breakfast. He had also opened some bread from a sack.

  I guess they do farm.

  He had also procured a smaller pot, which seemed to be boiling with something green – presumably tea.

  “What do you normally eat?” Deriën asked her as he saddled next to her. Linaera noticed he had stopped referring to her as “human”.

  “Uhm… usually something sweet. Cereals flavoured with honey is quite popular, although farmers and the like often have cheese and bread; olives too, if they can afford it.”

  “Elves like sweet things too. I’m curious about these ‘olives’, however.”

  “Little black things – we could buy them when the southern traders came; they don’t grow in cold places, apparently. Quite sour at first, but you quickly start to like them after a while.”

  “Interesting. We have some fruits that grow in these places – surprisingly enough – that taste quite sour as well. The younger ones won’t touch them, but the Elders swear by them.”

  “Why do younger people hate what older people seem to like?”

  “My Elders say that plants naturally produce toxins, to ward off pests, you understand. They say that our tastes are strongest when we are younger, and that as we age, our tastes become more dulled – so we find foods we previously detested, suddenly become appetising, as we can no longer taste the bitterness in them.”

  “Some of our healers say that some people can naturally taste better than others.”

  “Strange, we’ve never seen that,” Deriën said. He suddenly turned his attention to the pot.

  “Well, it seems that it has done cooking,” he commented.

  “What exactly is it?”

  “The stew is a combination of vegetables and fruit native to this forest. The tea is my personal favourite – pine-needle tea.”

  Linaera was curious about how such a thing would taste.

  Deriën put her some of the stew and tea in different cups (which were wood). He also gave her a wooden spoon. Linaera admired the elves’ ingenuity, no matter how arrogant they were.

  As she ate the stew, she was surprised that it was moist, and sweet. It was more like a jam of some sort than a stew. Very filling though.

  The tea was a whole different thing. It was bitter as opposed to sweet, but not uncomfortably so. What was remarkable was the sheer aroma of it – it overflowed her sense, filling her with a pleasant buzz. It reminded her of what this place was: dangerous, but also intoxicating and seductive. She could definitely see why Deriën liked it.

  “Do you like it?” Deriën asked her. He sounded eager to please, more like a puppy than the guard dog she had taken him for.

  “Yes… it’s different, but quite immersing.”

  “Immersing?”

  “Well, when I drink this tea, I know this sounds strange but… it’s like I’m feeling the essence of the tree where it came from, if you know what I mean?”

  Deriën looked slightly shocked.

  “I know exactly what you mean, actually. But I’ve never heard of a human being able to sense that. Maybe you are more than what you seem.”

  Linaera smiled nervously at that. In truth, she didn’t know what she was anymore.

  “Well anyway, we should be going now.”

  “Yeah.”

  There was an awkward moment as Deriën began to prepare for bringing Linaera to the “Council”.

  Linaera had only her rucksack and her jewel with her, which made her feel slightly insecure. It didn’t help that she couldn’t even begin to understand this strange creature beside her. Deriën was so… other. Yet Linaera found it quite refreshing – when he wasn’t being an arsehole, that is.

  ***

  It did not take long for Deriën to finish cleaning up, and he began moving, not looking to see if Linaera was following. We’ll play it your way then.

  Linaera followed Deriën; and despite his rapid pace (which Linaera was sure was down to his elven nature), she managed to catch up with him.

  Birds could be heard chirping happily away. This surprised Linaera – she had not expected animals to be out in this weather. Yet she spotted a variety of them: from the small, beautiful robbins; the nifty black sparrows; and even the cunning magpie.

  “The birds sure are remarkably active this time of year,” she commented, unable to keep her curiosity at bay.

  “We aim to keep the world around us working in proper condition. The elves often feed animals in need, hence why there are so many of them. We enjoy their company.” He stopped suddenly. A moment later, Linaera noticed what he was looking at: deer, a small heard of them by the looks of things.

  The male was leading them, his proud antlers displaying his age and experience in fighting. Behind him, numerous female deer followed, as well as some of the grown calves. They seemed relaxed, and completely unafraid of the bipedials observing them.

  “How come they are not afraid of us?”

  “We have lived in peace with them for thousands of years. They have nothing to fear.”

  Linaera guessed that being vegetarian had perks to it.

  “You mentioned that elves feed these creatures. How many live here?”

  “A few thousand, in various isolated villages. T
hey elect an Elder to represent them in the Council – there are about fifteen council members, although some represent villages that were too small to have their own Elders to elect.”

  “So there is no King? Or Queen?”

  “No. We are a completely democratic society.”

  “Are you sure that is wise? After all, if you give so much power to the masses, won’t they make irresponsible decisions?”

  “Only the Elders can be elected – if they are not responsible, who is? Besides, we believe that people should decide their own fates, as they better understand themselves than the spoiled royalty that rules them,” Deriën told her.

  Linaera was curious to know what he meant.

  “I did not study human history, but even I have heard of the starvation in the rule of Gadelth the Second, 212 C.E.”

  “That was eight-hundred years ago!”

  “Indeed. We have long memories you know. Anyway, Gadelth was known at the time for being an extremely greedy king. Furthermore, there had also been a great natural disaster – some say a flood, others an enormous wave higher than the buildings themselves – which had flattened a great deal of the islands to the east.

  “Of course, this had taken down crops with it. Gadelth, seeing an oppurtunity, had decided to forcibly sell crops from Arachadia for great profit. But he had so little regard for his people, that some people starved. They complained to the royal officials, saying, ‘Gadelth, help us! We have no meat, no tomatoes, not even bread!’”

  “What did Gadelth say?”

  “‘If you have no bread, why don’t you eat cake?’”

  Linaera laughed, but part of her was shocked.

  “If you’re wondering what happened to him afterwards, some general in the army finally gained some conscience and had the man poisoned.”

  They fell into a surprisingly easy silence, as the forest around them seemed to greet them with the sounds of animals and the whispers of trees. Linaera felt her body gain its own rhythm, and the world around her began to blur into steady movement. As this developed, she was suddenly shocked when she spotted a village ahead.

  What had surprised her was the sheer oddity of it; where the standard Arachadian architecture normally comprised of cottages made from oak beams, with rendered façades and thatched roofs, elven homes were similar yet very different.