by Rosie Scott
“Then why the hell are you doing it?” Sirius stared unblinking at Kai as she averted her gaze. “You expect me to consider you for my armies when you can't prove you're worthy to serve in them?”
Kai silently watched the floor. Terran noted his sister's discomfort and fidgeted on his feet until he broke the silence. “Father, the diplomats are waiting.”
Sirius turned and left the intersection without another word, and Terran kept his pace beside him, looking over his shoulder once to check on Kai as they left.
Kai appeared embarrassed that I saw the exchange, and she offered weakly, “I apologize.”
I swallowed hard at the desolation that exuded from the same voice that had just been so confident and happy. “There's nothing to apologize for.” She smiled softly, and the need to keep her happy grew in my chest until it felt congested. “Perhaps you'd like company,” I offered, my face heating.
“I...” Kai trailed off, looking down the hallway with a forlorn expression. “I appreciate the offer. I think it's best if I get studying done.” She took a hesitant step to the hallway leading to the entrance hall and added, “I'll see you in class.”
I watched as Kai shambled out of sight exuding depression. It was such a drastic change from her earlier demeanor that hatred for her father grew within me, but I was helpless to do anything about it.
The Seran University's gigantic library opened around me minutes later in mazes of bookshelves, puffs of parchment dust, and cascades of sunlight which flowed through clear windows above the tallest bookshelves. The librarian glanced up at my arrival but said nothing. My presence here was nothing new. Books could fill the holes of perpetual loneliness I often felt by distracting me with historical accounts of Chairel's most infamous necromancers.
Necromancy had intrigued me ever since my mother suggested years ago I might be predisposed to learning it. During my time at the Seran University, my interest in death magic only grew. Chairel's military was the mightiest on Arrayis, yet their coveted city of magic dared not speak of the most powerful element. Simple curiosity evolved into obsession over this oddity. Chairel's greatest military failures over the millennia were when they'd lost scores of men to a single necromancer. No matter their strategy, no matter their resources, necromancy time and time again proved to be the strongest magical force on Arrayis.
I wandered through the back aisles of the library where the sun held its rays back from shadowed corners. I'd read most of the books which would interest me in the earlier aisles. All of them said the same thing: necromancy was too brutal and sordid for civilized modern warfare. Stories of necromancers using the plague, empowering themselves with the life force of their foes, and raising the dead intimidated most, but they intrigued me.
A crate of books caught my eye, for it blocked my path to browse the last few shelves of the back aisle. I wandered over and glanced inside. A piece of parchment sat loosely over a pile of books that stated: Donated D.S. 409. Check, sort, and file.
I moved the parchment to the side, taking books out and flipping through them for anything of interest. There were books about military tactics, alchemy, cooking, a few fables, and...
My pale fingertips grazed over the dark leather cover of a thick book near the bottom of the pile, leaving smudges in a thin layer of dust. An artistic rendition of a hand etched in its center. On first glance, it appeared inconspicuous. However, I couldn't help but imagine that the artist drew the hand to look like it raised out of the earth. I flipped through the pages, and a musty smell hit my nostrils as I scanned the text for key words.
...elemental school of magic... Kilgorian Law... magical warfare...
A few blank pages followed. I frowned, thinking the book was incomplete. Then, a new section of text began.
...harvest energy... leeching high... secrecy... corpses...
I stilled abruptly and glanced behind me for witnesses, my heart thudding against my ribcage like a warning. The library was just as quiet and void of visitors as earlier, but I couldn't take the chance. Simply looking at necromantic paraphernalia was a crime, and that was what I held if this text had spells. My hands grasped desperately to the book as if it had already become my lifeline and someone would take it from me. I quickly grabbed another three books from the pile, stuck the necromantic book between them, and walked carefully out of the aisle to the nearest study desk.
After putting the books on the desk and sitting down, I only breathed hard and stared at them for sometime. In the back of my mind, I understood all too well that I would delve into dangerous and irreversible territory. It didn't matter that I felt Chairel's ban on necromancy was ridiculous; it was illegal, and they had never budged on this view. Furthering my innocent obsession with death magic by learning it would turn me into a criminal overnight.
If they find out. The subconscious thought floated in and out of my ponderings with a mischievous wink.
Magic was finicky. The Seran professors already taught us that one cannot help their elemental predispositions. Either you can learn an element or you cannot, and that choice isn't up to you. They told us to prepare for the inevitable possibility that many students would leave the university disappointed when we were tested for magical literacy soon. Some would learn an element. More would learn the lesser magics. Few would learn two elements to become the ever-coveted dual casters. Learning three or more elements was an impossibility. Some would learn no magic at all after spending a fortune on pre-magic schooling. But none would learn death, and only because the university refused to teach it.
Inwardly, I reasoned this meant it would be a miracle if I learned death magic to begin with. And even if I did, that didn't affect my ability to learn a second element or none at all. Nature had long ago decided that for me as Kai hinted at earlier. Whether I learned necromancy or not, no one had to be the wiser.
I kept still and silent for a few seconds, listening for movement behind me. Only when I felt it was safe did I separate the necromantic book from the others and open it.
Whoever had put this book together had thought intelligently about how to hide its importance. They filled the first and last one hundred pages with generic magical information about things we'd already learned in school. It broke down the Kilgorian Law, which was the scientific method every battlemage had to learn before being able to wield magic, for it detailed how mages must use energy reserves so they are not a danger to anyone else. It listed the various energy sources for mages: residual energy of movement, body heat, weather, and your own life force. It went on and on about this rudimentary level of magical understanding before it cut to a few dozen blank pages.
Then, a wealth of necromantic information was at my fingertips. The text scrawled across the page as if whoever had written it wanted to disguise their own handwriting. Death magic spells were written one at a time, followed by the detailed explanation of their pronunciation and handling.
Inflict plague. Raise singular corpse. Raise multiple corpses. Leech life. Weaken immunity.
Five spells. I took my time reading and rereading each one, sounding it out under my breath and memorizing it. We hadn't yet learned how to summon spells in school, but it was common knowledge that the simple mispronunciation of a word could cause a spell to kill its caster with a misfire. Every time I was sure I had it right, I double and triple-checked.
I summoned nothing. I just studied and studied until the library went dark with nightfall, leaving only the soft muted firelight of strategically placed candelabras. It became so late even the librarian left, for when I passed the middle aisle to put the book back in its crate with the others, the front desk was empty.
After dumping the book and hiding it beneath a few others, I hurried around the end of the aisle, jittery with nerves as I stalked toward the door. I'd managed to learn five necromantic spells with no witnesses, though it still remained to be seen whether I could wield them. A mixture of euphoria and fear consumed me for doing something forbidden, and then the intense emo
tion ripped away as my eyes caught on a cascade of fiery red hair.
I stopped and stared. In this darkness, all I could see was within the circular glow of an oil lamp. The light directed my eyes to the hair that fell over the edge of another desk like someone slept on it. From this angle, I couldn't tell if it was Kai. She'd said earlier she needed to study, but then she'd gone in the opposite direction of the library.
I took a step toward her, then another. “Kai...?” I winced at my voice, for its natural roughness sounded ever more intimidating in the dark, particularly while I tentatively approached a sleeping girl.
She didn't move. I walked ever closer, and the pungent smell of alcohol suddenly hit me like a wall. I stopped again, this time in shock. The girl sleeping at the desk surely looked like Kai. She was svelte and fair-skinned, and the ear that seemed lost in the mane of fiery hair was human. But like me, Kai was fourteen. Even if she wanted alcohol, it should have been hard for her to obtain.
I reached out to the face covered in red hair, though I hesitated and said again, “Kai.” When she still didn't move, I gently brushed the hair back from her face. I swallowed hard with indecision and sadness when I realized it truly was her.
The unwanted second heir to the throne of Sera had passed out drunk and now slept over an open book. A stack of others she must have been interested in sat nearby: Siege Tactics Volume III: 4001-5782 G.E., The Celendar Annexation: A History, The Military Trials and Triumphs Against Valerius the Undying. All three books related to military tactics; between that and Sirius's words earlier that Kai strove to fight in his army, I began to understand she had a fascination with warfare. Most interesting to me was the third book about Valerius the Undying, for it was one I'd read myself. Valerius was the most infamous necromancer in Chairel's history, for he was human and lived over four hundred years by harvesting the life force of others through leeching to empower himself. The Chairel Army finally cornered him on an island to the north and burned him alive. Without that success, it was possible Valerius would have grown to be immortal.
I wondered whether Kai's interest in the subject came from fear or intrigue, but for now, my main concern was getting her safe. Kai had either entered the library after the librarian's work shift unnoticed, or she passed out here so often they said nothing of it.
“Kai,” I said once more, shaking her shoulder.
“Mm?” It was barely a moan. She reached up, scratched once at her temple, and laid her arm on the desk.
“You have to...” I trailed off, fighting for words. I was the worst possible person to help someone drunk get home because I had little social experience in general, but Kai had no one else. Feeling utterly incompetent, I murmured, “You fell asleep in the library, Kai. It's nighttime. You have to go home.”
“I'm home,” Kai mumbled low, hardly coherent. “I live here.”
That made sense given she was royalty, but the university was so gigantic I wouldn't know where to take her. “Okay,” I murmured. “If I help you walk, will you take me there?”
“Who are you?” she asked. One golden eye opened, found me, and stared dully.
“Cerin,” I replied, preparing to recall our earlier conversation to her so she could remember who I was.
“Cerin,” Kai repeated, and her lips formed a lazy smile. “My only friend.”
That statement put another damper on an already depressing situation. “You barely know me,” I replied, frowning sadly at her.
“But I want to know you,” Kai mumbled, reaching out to touch my arm. When she failed to make up the gap between us, she stopped trying and laid her arm back on the desk. Kai sighed heavily and proclaimed, “You're sweet. Intresting.” She frowned and tried again. “Intrepsing. Shit. Intrespassing.”
“Interesting?” I suggested.
“That,” she agreed with another lazy smile.
“Let me take you home, Kai,” I repeated. “You're in the library.”
“Okay,” she mumbled. “I trust you.”
I barely knew this girl, yet I experienced heartbreak for the first time as I helped her stand. Kai laid her head heavily against my arm as I led her out of the library and down emptying hallways, trying my best not to care about the glares sent our way.
At one point, Kai tapped on my arm with an impatient finger, and I looked down at her shorter stature.
“Cerin,” she murmured, her glassy golden eyes looking over my face. “You're beautiful, Cerin.”
My breath caught in the back of my throat at the shock of hearing it. After years of being bullied for my looks, hearing such a compliment from the most gorgeous girl I'd ever seen was surreal. Then reality crashed back over me, reminding me that alcohol did the talking.
“Thank you,” I said, the words sounding defeated to my ears. Kai squeezed my arm in response though she said nothing.
Kai's drunken directions sent us to the right area, but even she seemed confused about the endless hallways and doors of the royal section of the university. We wandered around for a few minutes before boot steps on polished floors echoed through the hall we'd come from.
Terran Sera passed the corner of the wall and came to a stop when he saw us. His own eyes were glassy with a buzz, and he exuded roasted herbs like he'd just come from a rowdy tavern. He seemed to vaguely recognize me from earlier in the day, but his main concern was Kai. I stiffened just before he spoke, expecting cruelty to match his father's.
“Where was she this time?” Terran asked, his voice rough with drink as he scrounged around a pocket with one hand until he pulled out a brass key.
“The library,” I replied. “Sleeping on a desk.”
“Did you bring her ale?”
“No.”
“Do you know where she got it?”
“No,” I repeated.
Terran sighed and walked over. He gently took Kai's right arm with one hand and lifted her face with the other. “Come, sister. It's time for bed.”
Kai shimmied out of my grasp and went to her brother, collapsing against him like she'd just done with me. I tried to swallow my sadness before I turned away.
“Hey.”
I glanced back at Terran's voice. He balanced Kai with one arm as he prepared the key with his other hand. “Thank you for taking the time to bring her here.”
Where were you? I wanted to ask. Does your father not understand what he's doing to his daughter?
I couldn't ask those questions because I had no power here. I didn't have the right to question royalty. I simply nodded once and turned away in silence.
Four
I stared at the corpse, and it stared right back with an expression of indifference.
Leaning my shoulder against the doorframe of my dormitory closest while staring into it, I marveled at my luck. After learning necromantic spells a week ago, I'd been impatient to try summoning them to see if I could. The problem? There was no way I could test them without hurting or killing a fellow student. As much as the idea of giving Kenady the plague and laughing at his misfortune pleased me, that wasn't an option if I planned on keeping this a secret.
Now, I'd finally gotten tired of the stench wafting out of the closet I never used and checked it out to see the culprit. A dead rat curled up in the back right corner, its sharp incisors bared in eternal torment. Its beady black eyes open but cloudy. A chunk taken out of one velvety round ear. Whether it was from the gnawing of insects or an injury it'd sustained during its life, I didn't know.
I reached out with a boot, tapping the corpse until it moved with the pressure. Even its long scaly tail made no bendable movement, for it had long ago went stiff with rigor mortis. I pondered over whether the age of a corpse could affect its usability in battle with death magic.
“Only one way to find out,” I mused to myself, collapsing on the floor with a huff and the jingling of boot buckles. I had a while to try summoning a spell before the first class I shared with Kai, anyway. I'd abruptly woken up early because another student banged his fist on
my door and ran like the ever charming and intelligently evolved creature he was. So far, finding the rat corpse in my closet was the best luck I'd had in Sera.
That wasn't the best endorsement for the famous city of magic, but it was the only one I could personally give.
Keeping my voice low, I repeatedly sounded out the spell to raise a singular corpse. Saying a spell wouldn't summon it. Combining my university education with what I'd read in the necromantic book, I knew that to summon a spell, one had to say it or think it and harness the energy from the environment into your focus of one hand or the other. That was easier said than done, and I couldn't know how noisy or chaotic summoning would be. But with an opportunity like this literally staring me in the face as this unfortunate rat was, my unceasing curiosity convinced me to risk it.
Finally, with my heart raging in my chest, I made a point of acknowledging the sources of energy in my room. My body heat rose from exposed flesh. The flame of the candle in the sconce on the nearby wall exuded heat as it waved while fighting the breeze that blew in my tiny open window. I hoped that was enough energy to summon one spell. I put all my focus into my right hand until the skin furrowed between my eyebrows.
“Corpa te risa.”
I'd expected nothing but failure, so when a black foggy energy slowly materialized over my palm, the resulting shock I felt broke my focus until it disappeared, unintentionally dispelled. I stared at my hand like it belonged to someone else.
I am a necromancer. It was a simple thought, but the weight of its meaning made it so much more profound. I was still and silent, my mind moving a mile per minute. For some reason, I thought of how the full-blooded Icilics would want me dead for my racial impurity before I related it to my ability to wield death magic. Perhaps my mind connected the two because in both situations someone would want me dead for something harmless.