The Necromancer: New Edition: Republished 2016

by Alex Stargazer

  “Oh Deriën, I would love to get drunk right now. You don’t know how hard it is to live under the roof of a person who has killed your best friend and thinks they were doing you a favour.” With that, she gulped down the entire thing.

  Deriën sighed. Hoping he wasn’t doing anything stupid, he took his own drink from the elf that came by. No point staying out of the fun, he thought to himself dryly.

  The drink itself was called Xltr; a very unusual name with odd consonants and an even stranger tone. It suited the drink perfectly, as its slightly sour taste made it seem refreshing, until it went down your throat and you felt its fiery breath.

  Almost immediately, Deriën felt slightly giddy, as if someone had spun him around for a little too long. His worries flew at the back of his mind; reality seemed to blur around the edges, as if in trance.

  At just that time, the music raised its tempo, becoming deeper and infinitely more dangerous.

  It was at that moment that the dancers came in.

  Both male and female, they wore elaborately decorated clothing that left the males bare-chested and the females barely clothed. Colours ranged from crimson, to forest-green, to diamond-blue.

  Their movements were transfixing, in time with the deep bass of the drums and the shrill of the flute, yet… they also held their own rhythm. They managed to be part of a continuum, but also be individual.

  Deriën looked to see Linaera stare fixedly at them. He wasn’t sure how healthy any of this was to a human, but he doubted it was doing here any good. Yet the drink continued its slow, intoxicating path through his body.

  The dancers’ movements became wild, arms blurred until they seemed to possess four, rather than two. Then they began spinning around the fire.

  A song began ringing out from an invisible singer, in the Elf-tongue:

  Dúinn i agnus,

  Againn grán n-ainmhithe na agnus againn torthaí na ithe ag, craig sna bhfuil a tú sé tá haghaidth le,

  Máthair OH duit molaimid,

  Elves na iad is,

  Amháin ní aon mar againn do, molaimid,

  Rince ag táimid, againn chanadth.

  The singer had a high, sweet voice, but it gave the festival an eerie feel, a mishmash of emotions rather than a coherent whole.

  “Is that how you normally speak?” Linaera asked.

  “Yes. Yes it is.”

  “It’s beautiful, but also… I don’t think I could speak it.”

  “Humans do indeed find it very difficult. The vowels are extremely pronounced, and the consonants are many.”

  They were interrupted by further conversations when another elf carrying fruits and wine came along.

  Deriën knew the fruits were dangerous in themselves – their sweetness was overpowering and their aroma addled your mind. The wine…

  Linaera took a fruit and a cup regardless, and ate the fruit first. Deriën could see the way her lips slowed as she savoured their taste. It was no secret that some elven food was very potent to humans.

  He had some wine himself, logic now gone to the winds.

  The wine was sugary and sweet at first, with a pleasant aroma that reminded you of times gone by, very different from the aftertaste. For that was powerful, deep, and played on your mind like a puppeteer with his toys.

  Deriën could no longer be sure if he was seeing reality when the dancers began leaping over the fire, laughing carelessly. They did, of course, arrive to the other side unharmed. Or if they were harmed, they must have loved pain.

  Then Deriën noticed Elda and Texra come along. They were two elven girls that were far, far too devious for their age. They had been known as “the reapers” by the boys, for they lured you into their world and left you bewildered and confused by the night before.

  Both of them were blondes, although their blonde was closer to snow in shade than gold. Both were tall, and supple, and both had sharp but elegant features. Their eyes contrasted with their appearance, one being dark blue like a dull diamond, the other akin to the colour of coffee.

  They moved lazily over the ground, as the others parted in either fear, admiration or a mix of both. They walked together, hand in hand, although one was relaxing on the other’s shoulder.

  They stopped by Linaera. She gave them a curious look.

  “Well hello there, pretty human. What brings you to our festival? Was it the food? The drink…” the last part was whispered, “—or us?”

  Linaera giggled.

  “Well, I’ve never met you… but you certainly seem exciting.”

  “Dangerous?”

  Deriën could see that Linaera didn’t notice how the two bent closer to her. The other elves looked on, curious to see the outcome.

  “Well, yes. I was hoping to have some fun, really,” she said in an off-hand, conversational manner, but the voice of the other elves was more like that of a fizzling volcano.

  “We can give you fun.”

  Deriën decided to step in.

  “Elda, Trexa. I don’t know what you’re up to, but Linaera is a human, in case you haven’t noticed. Do you really think the Council will appreciate it if you leave their witness witless?”

  They gave him a glare.

  “Poor Deriën. Always ready to spoil the fun. Fine, you can have your little plaything to yourself.” They stormed out.

  “Well that was… interesting,” Linaera commented.

  In truth, the pair was only dangerous if you let yourself be entranced by them – otherwise, their fighting prowess was at best, average.

  “Enough. I’m taking you back to your quarters. This is no place for a human,” Deriën proclaimed.

  She did not protest as he made her follow. Deriën could feel the others elves’ disappointment, but he didn’t care. Somehow, he had become a little… attached, to Linaera.

  Speaking of that, the human seemed a little bewildered by her surroundings, much the same a sleepwalker might be. Elven wine definitely didn’t sit well with humans, Deriën had learned. Somehow, their bodies weren’t as well equipped to deal with the drugs found in drink.

  “Don’t you think the stars are beautiful? A bit like you, you know.”

  Deriën chose to ignore the last part of her sentence.

  “We still do not fully understand them. Their patterns and behaviours are so complex, and we feel we have only managed to scratch the surface.”

  “Hmmm… scratch the surface.” She swayed.

  Deriën had to prevent her from falling. Humans were so fragile, and she didn’t feel anymore solid than she had last time.

  “Come on,” Deriën told her. He was tired of games. These nights never ended well.

  He practically dragged her to the lodgings, which were dark in the night sky, illuminated only by the twinkle of the stars above. Even the moon was dark. At least they couldn’t hear the music from here.

  Linaera seemed to relax against him, making him feel a series of unidentifiable emotions, before she walked off towards the door.

  Somehow, Deriën thought it was deliberate – yet how could such an obviously intoxicated human be capable of such deviousness when she seemed to innocent in life?

  “Good night, Deriën.”

  “Good night human. May the forest watch over you.”

  THIRTY ONE

  Linaera was wondering what she should wear.

  She was in the “guestroom” – a wooden shack really, but a surprisingly comfortable wooden shack. It was single storey, and the strange windows (which Linaera was now sure weren’t made of glass) opened out straight into the forest outside. The inside was wood, mainly pine; it covered the ceiling, floor and walls. The wardrobes were simply doors cut into the walls. It was all very strange, but also refreshing – a nice change from the drab Arachadian finery.

  The clothes in question were a variety of different colours: light green of grass, darker green of trees, and the dark green of God-knows-what-other thing. The Elves were very creative. Linaera could almost imagine them wearing pink. Pi
nk!

  She decided that the light green tunic and trousers would be best suited to the sunshine from outside, although she made sure to complement the clothes with plenty of undergarments and a cloak.

  As she dressed, she recounted last nights’ events. Certainly, embarrassment was on the forefront of her mind – she couldn’t imagine she had called Deriën pretty. Pretty of all the different things! Why couldn’t she have come up with “flap-eared knave”, “foul clutch of beastliness” or some other creative insult?

  Instead, she had suggested that the arrogant, self-absorbed prick was in some way attractive.

  She hoped he would forget about it. The last thing she wanted to look like was an idiot, especially in front of the Council.

  The Council. Linaera remembered that she had to get to them by noon, or so Gétris had told her – assuming she had heard correctly. You never knew with these elves.

  As she went out through the door (which was made from – surprise! – wood), the cold hit her like water to a newly forged sword. She guessed the temperature had dropped quite a bit since yesterday, although it probably wasn’t as cold since the night of the blizzard. She shuddered at the memory.

  Elves were going about their daily business; what exactly that was, Linaera had never asked. But they gave her strange looks and kept their distance. I guess I’m not so popular now they really know who I am. And aren’t otherwise intoxicated, Linaera thought.

  She remembered that the Council met in the middle of Aláthelia – in the aptly named Council Building, of course. The building stood centre stage, proudly displaying its three storeys of height, much to the dismay of the puny single storeys of the buildings beside it.

  It was surprisingly rectangular in its construction, and had numerous terraces on its floors. It was made from wood of course, but it differed significantly from the others in that it had a room inside the building, which was probably down to privacy.

  Smoke still hung in the area as she walked towards the main entrance. Probably because of the fire, she thought.

  “Hello? Is this the Council Building?” she asked the elf standing at the entrance, who looked almost like a guard. He was tall and had the standard blond hair and green eyes of the elves. His expression was slightly bored, but it shifted to curiosity when he spotted her.

  “Hi. Linaera is it? I’ve been sent by the council to escort you inside. They don’t want you getting lost, you understand,” he said, sounding slightly apologetic.

  So they don’t have guards after all.

  “Well that’s nice…”

  “Edal’s the name.”

  “—Edal. So where exactly is it?”

  “The Council meeting room is right in the centre of the building,” he said, opening the large, but not imposing door. Linaera noted that his body language lacked the same sense of confidence and superiority that many of the elves possessed. She guessed he was a younger elf, which would make sense considering his role. Or maybe he was just different, and his position displayed that.

  As they walked through the corridor, Linaera noticed that it still remained bright. She wondered where the source of the light was. Then she looked up, and spotted windows in the ceiling.

  Clever.

  “What can I expect?” Linaera asked, trying to expel the butterflies that had suddenly built up.

  She was glad to see her nervousness was matched by his awkwardness.

  “Well, there are sixteen Council members, and I’m sure you’ve heard of the free-thinkers and the elf-thinkers? They told you right… ? Well anyway,” he cleared his throat, “you’d want to get the free-thinkers on your side, the elf-thinkers never help… bastards…”

  He stopped when they arrived.

  ***

  The Council meeting room was impressively large by elven-standards. It was in the form of a dome, with more of the windows Linaera had seen in the corridors present in the roof.

  The floor was made from an amazing variety of different sized, coloured pebbles, that sparkled in the light. In the middle, there were was a stand – presumably where speakers would talk – and two tables, with several chairs on them.

  On those chairs, there sat the various council members. All were dressed in brown robes; Linaera guessed this was the attire of the formal high-ranking elves, which made her light green clothing feel out of place. Most of them were men, although Linaera spotted two women in the fray. They all turned around, with varying different expressions of curiosity, disgust and amusement.

  She also spotted Gadalthal lounging about in the sidelines. He gave her a smile, all brilliance and danger.

  Somehow, his playful flirting relaxed her about the whole situation.

  Somebody started speaking.

  “Today, we are convening, not to deal with missing food or calm family disputes, but to discuss our attitude to the human Linaera who is currently residing in our territories, as well as our attitude as a whole to the situation of the dangerous necromancer, Neshvetal,” he said. Linaera noticed that his skin hung heavily over his face, giving his long nose a very pronounced feel. This was accentuated by his sharp blue eyes and unusual dark hair.

  Linaera assumed he was the leader.

  “That’s Urudenthal. He’s head of the Council, and the elf-thinkers,” Gadalthal whispered, suddenly beside her.

  Linaera silently cursed.

  Then she noticed Gétris had gone up as well.

  “We, Urudenthal and me, will decide the final outcome of this hearing. Linaera, please take a seat” – he pointed towards a chair in the middle – “and let the hearing begin.”

  Linaera sat on the brown wicker chair he had indicated; Gadalthal took his seat beside her.

  He began:

  “I’m here as a representative for the human. As you may know, I have an impressive record in dealing with political matters such as—”

  “We know, Gadalthal,” Urudenthal cut him off.

  Urudenthal and Gétris took their seats, with Gétris on the left and Urudenthal on the right.

  “I will begin,” an elf stated from their right. He was smaller than most elves, and had beady dark eyes that reminded Linaera of a hawk.

  He walked towards the podium, giving Linaera a glare along the way. Oh great, I’m going to enjoy this.

  “I, as elected member of the Násathetilau community, decree that the human, Linaera” – he spat the last word out – “should hereby be immediately expelled from the forest, along with all of her belongings. If she should try to return, she will be executed on sight.”

  His speech immediately caused an uproar with the elves, with some shouting, “Away with the human! Away with the human!” and others “Murder is below us!”. Linaera was glad to see the ones willing to expel her were in the relative minority, but many looked unsure.

  Gétris and Urudenthal remained calm.

  When the other elves cooled off, Urudenthal asked:

  “And what do you propose we do concerning the situation of the necromancer?”

  “I believe no action is required on our part. Our forest is protected by powerful magic-wielders, skilled hunters and a variety of guardians such as Sidthé and Woses.”

  More mutters followed him, mostly of uncertainty.

  So there’s more than just me in this.

  “Very well, you may leave. Gétris, select your next representative.”

  “I command the representative of Silaya at the podium.”

  A woman – the representative of Silaya? – came on. She was blonde, tall, but surprisingly heavily built. Her eyes were a light shade of blue.

  “I must disagree with Násathetilau. As representative of Silaya, I conclude that we should hereby keep Linaera within our forest, on the grounds of her being connected to the Fae. Linaera.” Linaera had expected this, so she took the jewel she had placed in her pocket for all to see.

  There were gasps of admiration and surprise as the jewel shone under the light.

  “Do you indeed see the m
arkings inside of the jewel? Clearly, this human must have done something to appease them. If the Fae, reclusive as they are, can trust her, that’s sure good enough for me.

  “As for the necromancer, I suggest we increase the patrols and organise larger groups. I also suggest that all parties be accompanied by a magic wielder, who can raise an alarm if our Hunters come into contact with undead. We do not wish to lose any other patrols,” she finished. Linaera wondered what she meant. Had Neshvetal been daring enough to kill elves? It wouldn’t be beyond him.

  Her speech was met with mumblings of dissent and sounds of approval. One elf, from the left, surprisingly, called out:

  “But are we sure this jewel means anything? After all, from the report, we can understand that this girl stole the jewel from the necromancer. Now, I do not judge her for doing so, but is a thief in our midst truly a good idea?”

  He was taller and older than the others; his eyes sparkled with kindness, but the doubt was unmistakable.

  “Duly noted,” Gétris stated. “Now, Urudenthal, please select your next representative.”

  And so, this started a string of speeches, ranging from all the members of the right, who suggested Linaera be thrown out, the necromancer be ignored, and such things in various different degrees. Exception: the woman, small and dark haired, who said, “we do not wish to annoy the fae. The risk is not worth it.”

  The left earned her mixed responses, with some saying Linaera should stay, others claiming that humans had to take care of their own. All agreed more should be done to guard against the necromancer.

  Urudenthal spoke next.

  “I, leader of the Council, and Gétris, deputy leader, will present our opinions, and decide the final verdict. All of your opinions have been put into consideration. Gétris, please begin.”

  Gétris walked to stand in front of the podium.

  “As Deputy Leader, elected official of Devanthan, and leader of the free-thinkers, I suggest the following: that Linaera should be free to remain within our forests, for as long as she wishes” – mixed sounds greeted him – “and that we should take all precautionary measures against the necromancer.

  “I base this off the fact that Linaera is, in two hundred years of cumulative judgement, a good person, worthy of our community. Also, I believe Linaera to be a competent mage, one who was accompanied by several other human mages. If this necromancer and his apprentice could take them down, then he is a very real threat.”