Dirge for a Necromancer

by Ash Stinson

  “I love stories!” said Brecan.

  “So do I!” said Diahsis. “Do you have any?”

  The unicorn flattened his ears and cocked his head to the side. “Well, no, I guess I don’t, really,” he said. “One time I fought a chimera. That’s a story.”

  “Go on, then,” said Diahsis, waving one hand lethargically toward the unicorn. “Tell it.”

  “Okay,” said Brecan. “Well, this one time I was in the forest, and I came across a chimera, and then I fought it. The end!”

  “Who won?”

  “Huh?”

  “You or the chimera?”

  Brecan’s ears perked forward. “That’s a good question,” he said. “I guess…we drew. I mean, he went his way, I went mine.”

  “It didn’t try to kill you?” asked Diahsis.

  “No, we just argued a bit about who had the right to keep walking down a narrow path,” said Brecan. “Then I remembered that I could fly, so I flew. The end!”

  Diahsis frowned. “Oh, I see. Very… Erm. Well, I guess, technically, it was a story.” He thought for a moment and said, “I’ll tell a story now, then. I’ll tell a story about how I became a general!”

  Beside Brecan, the Tahlehson centaur sighed and edged away to listen to the conversation on the other side of him. Apparently, this was a story he’d heard before.

  “I am well known throughout Tahlehsohr for my deeds in the Wolf-Blood Wars, you must know,” Diahsis began, leaning back in his chair and puffing out his chest proudly. “I did many marvelous, brave, and frankly amazing things. It’s really quite surprising it never reached you. I’m a folk hero.”

  A couple of the nearest Tahlehsons chuckled to themselves quietly, but Diahsis didn’t seem to notice. “What were the Wolf-Blood Wars?” asked Dohrleht, leaning forward.

  “Wars against wolf-bloods,” answered Diahsis, raising his goblet to drink. He found it empty and called for more. Once a young soldier rushed to him to refill it, he continued his story. “I was serving with a battalion of five hundred men, lead by one General Gaema. I was just beneath him, actually. I hated being just beneath him, really; he made me attend him everywhere he went, as though I were some kind of servant. In his day though, Gaema was a great general and a perfect soldier. But his day was long, long past by the time I joined his battalion. By the time I came, only the dregs of the army served beneath him—the worst soldiers or those the higher-ups simply didn’t like. They put me there because of my elven blood, so even though I was the hardest working soldier in all of Tahlehsohr I was serving with green boys, men with a rebellious streak, and cowards. Worst of all was Gaema’s leadership. He’d lost a lot of men at a battle twenty years before, and it never left him. By the time I came to serve beneath him, he was a hopeless, sad, alcoholic mess. They would have discharged him, I’m sure, but his brother was King Saemohr’s trusted Councilor of Wind.”

  They brought the next course—a thick, brown stew filled with barley and carrots—and Diahsis paused to thank the young soldier who served them. As he started into his stew, Diahsis said, “Where was I? Did I reach the—oh, no. Never mind. Okay, so, here I was, stationed beneath Gaema, who never stopped drinking and had the smallest battalion in the kingdom. We were in Durahm Lyrii, near the heart of the insurrection—a city in heavily forested mountains that’s not easy to reach for larger armies. It had three enormous walls surrounding it and had been considered unconquerable. The city was originally an outpost to defend Tahlehsohr’s eastern coast, you see. Anyway, Durahm had a very large werewolf population, and they had already killed all the centaurs in the city and taken control of it. All the other groups, led by men who weren’t constantly in the bottle, were trapped miles away, so it was only us—Gaema’s five hundred soldiers, sent to waste the enemy’s arrows on bodies of no value to King Saemohr’s council. We were called the Lion’s Tail Battalion at the time, because like the poof of hair on the end of a lion’s tail, we were a slight disgrace on an otherwise fearsome creature.

  “By the time we reached Durahm Lyrii, the werewolves had already found out we were coming, and they were prepared,” Diahsis went on. He spared a disdainful look at the paws of his wolf pelt, draped across his shoulders, as though their presence there were a disgusting surprise to him in that moment. “Because of Gaema’s incompetence, we lost half the battalion that day. The men wanted to retreat; they said we couldn’t possibly win with only two and a half hundred men. Gaema wanted to continue the fight. It was the only thing he was right in during the battle of Durahm Lyrii. The next day we tried again to take the city and lost fifty more men. Gaema was one of them.”

  He smiled and set his goblet down before picking up Deggho’s head and cradling it to his chest. “An arrow got Gaema through the eye slit of his helm,” he said, and mimed with his hand an arrow in flight arching toward Deggho’s eyes. The goblin winced and shut them tight, but Diahsis stopped short of him. “He died a warrior’s death, and I got control of the remaining two hundred of the Lion’s Tail. Two hundred men, give or take a few, versus three thousand werewolf soldiers with better position and better discipline—and better weapons, since none of the Lion’s Tail were archers and most of them had broken their spears, lances, and other pole arms in the days before. We had swords and only swords.” He shifted in his seat and pulled at one of Deggho’s ears, ignoring the goblin’s faint protests. “The soldiers wanted to retreat, but I didn’t. One tried to desert and I cut off his legs. The rest were completely compliant after that.”

  Dohrleht went pale, and Daeblau squeezed his hand reassuringly—though, if truth be told, he didn’t look all that well himself.

  Raettonus raised one eyebrow. “You cut off one of your own soldier’s legs?” he asked.

  “So judgmental,” said Diahsis, lifting his stew bowl and drinking some broth out of it. Setting it back down, he wiped his mouth with his napkin, but didn’t quite get all of it off his lips. “He disobeyed orders and tried to desert. He was lucky I didn’t hang him. Anyway, under my leadership, we were able to breach Durahm Lyrii’s walls the same way we breached the walls of this citadel. Simple enough, for the first wall, but the other two were a lot harder since the werewolves knew what we were up to by then. We had to build a structure to cover us. Of course, all of that was the easy part. The real fight began after that when we fought a sea of wolves for control of the city. I remember little of the battle itself except that the blood was thick on the streets—so much blood that everything but the rooftops was red when all was said and done. I was caked in so much blood that the cloth on my uniform broke apart, leaving only the bare mail beneath. I saw friends die around me. I led my men on. That day, we weren’t the tail of the lion—we were its claws, sharp and deadly. When all was said and done, I had lost fifty men. We had killed more than two thousand werewolf insurgents. The rest surrendered. By the time reinforcements arrived, Durahm Lyrii was flying the yellow and blue of King Saemohr once again, taken by the regiment sent on a suicide mission—all under my expert leadership. I was made a general for my brave and crafty efforts.”

  “That’s a good story,” said Brecan. “I liked the part where there was a lion.”

  Diahsis frowned. “You weren’t really listening, were you?” he asked flatly.

  The unicorn flattened his ears. “I got distracted,” he admitted shyly. “You mentioned something about a lion’s tail, then I got distracted thinking about lions and their pretty manes. I’ve got a mane too, but it’s not as pretty as a lion’s.”

  The main course was served—roasted dragon with onions and stewed cabbage. Raettonus stared at the great, greasy hunk of meat on his plate, the steam gently rising from it. “This looks disgusting,” he said.

  “It tastes great though,” said Brecan.

  “Of course you think so,” said Raettonus. “You haven’t got enough brain to tell good from bad.”

  “Dragon really is quite good, Magician,” said Deggho. Diahsis had placed the goblin’s head on his own shoulder, chee
k to cheek with him—a fact that Deggho dek’Kariss didn’t look too thrilled with, but his body sat politely with his arms folded in his lap.

  “It’s stringy and doesn’t look very appetizing,” said Daeblau, chewing a mouthful. “But it’s far better than it looks.”

  At the head of the table, General Diahsis frowned. “Why’s everyone insulting the dragon?” he asked. “It’s good dragon.” He took a bite of it. “The grease adds flavor.”

  Raettonus pushed his plate away. “I’ve got to say, I no longer feel hungry.”

  “Can I have yours?” asked Brecan eagerly, licking at his greasy lips with his long tongue.

  “Knock yourself out,” said Raettonus. The unicorn dived for his plate, putting his cloven forehooves up on the table to get at it.

  “We’re going to hunt faeries tomorrow,” said Diahsis. “Maybe you’ll like faerie better.”

  “I don’t intend to eat any faeries,” said Raettonus, leaning back in his seat lazily. “They’re almost human. It’d be too strange.”

  “Faeries? Hardly, Magician,” said Deggho. “They’re vicious monsters. Walking on two feet doesn’t give them any kind of humanity.”

  Daeblau yawned and rolled his neck. “I’m feeling rather tired,” he said. “I think I’m going to retire to my chambers, if it’s all right with you, General.”

  Diahsis looked him over. “Yes, certainly,” he said. “But I hope you know you’re going to miss the stories and riddles. I’ve got a hundred more. Three hundred more, maybe.”

  The Captain of the Garrison smiled politely. “It’ll be a shame,” he said. He kissed Dohrleht on top of the head and started away. The younger centaur made to follow him, but he stopped the boy. “No, it’s all right. Stay here at the feast. After it’s over, if you’d like, you can come to my cell. I’d…like to get a nap.”

  Dohrleht nodded obediently. “All right,” he said, turning back to the table. “After.”

  With another insincere smile, Daeblau started away once again. Diahsis watched him go and then turned to Dohrleht. “So, do you think he actually loves you?” asked the general in a nonchalant tone, as if he’d asked if Dohrleht thought it might rain.

  Dohrleht’s eyes widened. “Of course,” he said. “Why would you say that?”

  Diahsis shrugged. “I was just thinking, he had you murder your father so he’d be in charge when I broke the walls and he could surrender to me,” he said. “I’m thinking Daeby’s rather treacherous, wouldn’t you say? I was just wondering if you really believed anything he said to you.”

  The young centaur turned his face away. “I think I see a friend at the other end of the table,” he said unevenly. “Excuse me, General.”

  “As you will,” said Diahsis, waving him off. He looked to Raettonus. “A nice boy. He’s one of your students, yes?”

  “That’s right,” said Raettonus.

  “It’s too bad about his leg,” said Diahsis. “You know, in Tahlehsohr a soldier with a crippled leg gets thrown out of the army. They usually get disowned too. Guess it’s a cultural difference, eh?”

  “Seems like there’s a lot of those between Zylekkha and Tahlehsohr,” Raettonus noted.

  “Like decapitating innocent hostages,” mumbled Deggho.

  “Oh, I said I was sorry. Would you forgive me, already?” asked Diahsis. “What’s it going to take for you to drop that already? I didn’t know you’d come back to life.”

  “That makes it worse, not better,” said Deggho, his three-pointed ears sagging.

  * * *

  After the feast was over, Raettonus skulked through the halls of the citadel, lost in thought. He passed soldiers singing drunkenly and holding each other for support as they staggered along the passageway. At length, Raettonus found himself emerging on the roof into the cool night air. Above the dark ocean, the moon was a pale orange sliver shining down on the water, surrounded by dim stars. Raettonus placed one hand on a cold steel spike rising up from the battlements and leaned against it, looking out into the inky night. A ship was sailing silently near the horizon, the lights in its cabin just visible. With a slight, involuntary sigh, Raettonus watched it until it was gone and remained staring at the place it had been for a long time.

  He turned away from the ocean to look across the roof. A few turncoat Zylekkhans were patrolling stiffly, and he could see fires lit up on the watchtowers. At the other end of the roof, the shimmer of a ghost caught Raettonus’ eye, and he started toward it lazily. As he drew near, the ghost looked at him with colorless eyes. It was the ghost of an old centaur, dressed all in wolfskin and chain mail, a pike in one hand. The ghost nodded his head. “Evening,” he said cordially, in a dialect that had fallen out of use a few centuries before. For Raettonus it was strangely comforting to hear someone speaking in those old words; it was like coming home as a child when you’d been out all day.

  “Who’re you, soldier?” asked Raettonus, sitting down on the parapet.

  “Ruhrzyk, of Kinok Oron,” said the ghost. “That’s who I was, I suppose. I’ve been told that Kinok Oron is…is gone now.”

  Raettonus nodded and looked out along the shore. “It went to war with Sae Noklu,” he said. “They were killed, to the last child.”

  Ruhrzyk made a contemplative noise and turned his spectral face away. “Is it cold out?” he asked.

  “A little.” Raettonus shifted around, setting his back to the long metal spike rising behind him.

  “Guard duty on the roof used to be my least favorite post,” confided the ghost. “I hated how cold it was at night. They always posted me here at night. ‘Post me here during the day,’ I said to them. They wouldn’t listen. I don’t feel the cold anymore. I don’t really feel anything, since I fell…”

  “You died,” said Raettonus.

  Ruhrzyk smiled bitterly. “I know,” he said. “I didn’t understand at first. I was so confused, but…but it didn’t take all that long to realize what had happened. The last thing I could remember was someone calling to me down in the courtyard, and I leaned over the edge there to see what they wanted, but I leaned a little too far. Then… Well.”

  “A friend of mine comes up here to talk to you,” Raettonus said.

  “Little Maeleht,” said Ruhrzyk fondly. A smile flickered across his face and then was replaced with a look of concern. “He’s very sick, isn’t he?” Raettonus nodded. “Sometimes, when he comes to visit me, he starts coughing and can’t stop, or else he faints and he’s out for a long time. When he comes around or stops coughing, he tells me not to worry about it, and he said he wasn’t all that sick.”

  “He’s not well,” said Raettonus. “I’d be surprised if he lives another five years.”

  The ghostly soldier frowned and turned his face downwards. “That’s unfortunate,” he said. After a moment, he looked at Raettonus. “He told me about you. You’re a necromancer.”

  “That’s right, I am.”

  “Tell me,” said Ruhrzyk. “Could you…could you send me along? To the afterlife? I asked Maeleht if it could be done, but he only said he wasn’t sure and changed the subject.”

  Raettonus raised his eyebrows. “It’s possible,” he said. “I’m not sure about your case, but it’s possible. Maeleht knows that.”

  “Oh,” said the ghost. “Why would he lie to me?”

  With a shrug, Raettonus answered, “He was probably scared.”

  “Scared of me leaving?”

  “Scared of how you’d leave him,” said Raettonus. He heard soft, hesitant hoof beats on the stone behind him and turned around.

  Brecan hesitated a little ways away, watching him. Raettonus nodded to him slightly. “Who’re you talking to?” Brecan asked, coming closer. “Is it a ghost? Oooh, or maybe an invisible friend? I always wanted invisible friends.”

  “It’s a ghost,” said Raettonus, turning away from Ruhrzyk. “Do you need something?”

  The unicorn lowered his head and pressed his ears flat. Twitching his tail nervously, he said, “I wa
s just thinking, you were so quiet at dinner. You weren’t even all mean like usual—not as mean, anyway. And, um… Is something wrong, Raet?”

  “Not a thing,” said Raettonus.

  “You sure?” said Brecan. He sat back on his haunches and looked at Raettonus with his pale blue eyes. “If you’re upset about something, you can tell me. You…you always keep everything all bottled up inside you, Raet, and it makes me worry for you. I mean, it can’t be good, keeping yourself all shut off like that. Part of being friends means sharing with each other, you know? So that you don’t have to keep everything inside. I…I don’t know why you do that, Raet, why you shut down like that. I don’t know—maybe I’m too stupid to understand you. But I try to. If something’s wrong, Raet, you can tell me, and I promise I’ll try to understand. If everything is fine—if you say so—I’ll leave you be, I guess. Just…I want you to know, if you’re upset about something, I’ll listen. I don’t think I could help you any, but…I’ll listen.”

  Raettonus took a deep breath and studied the unicorn. Finally, he said, “Master Slade saw Rhodes. He knows that I did that to him and… We got in a fight.”

  “I’m sure he’ll forgive you,” Brecan said.

  “Yes, he probably will,” said Raettonus. “But even if he does, I’ll still know that he thinks I’m a monster.”

  “I’m sure he doesn’t think that. How could he think that?”

  Raettonus turned his face back toward the ocean and let out a heavy breath which turned to steam in the cold air. “He called me a demon,” Raettonus muttered. “The way he said it… He meant it. I know when he’s just saying things and when he’s telling the truth, and that was the truth.”

  The unicorn edged a little closer. “I’m sorry, Raet,” Brecan said. “But—but it’s not like this is the first time you’ve been called that. You never let it get to you before…”

  Pursing his lips, Raettonus glanced sideways at Brecan. “It’s different when it’s someone you’ve spent your whole life trying to save who says it.”