by Ash Stinson
“Oh, Diahsis! What’s going to happen to him, Raet?” asked Brecan, flattening his ears. “I liked him. He liked to have parties with lots of food. They’re going to hurt him, aren’t they?”
“They’re going to hang him,” Raettonus said.
Brecan’s wings sagged against his back. “Oh,” he said quietly. “That’s…too bad.”
“There are worse things,” said Raettonus with a shrug. “His captains are getting their fingers cut off, and then they’re going to be let go in the desert.”
“In the desert with their fingers cut off?” asked Brecan. “The vampires out there’ll get them in no time.”
“I think that’s probably the idea.”
They entered into a feasting hall where the Zylekkhan soldiers were tearing down the blue and yellow banners adorning the walls and pillars. A couple of them took torches from the sconces on the wall and set fire to the banners while others trampled them with steel-shod hooves. A couple lifted their tails and defecated right on the Tahlehsohr blue and yellow.
“So,” said Brecan quietly as they passed through the hall. “Are you okay? Um, about Slade, I mean? Are you okay about Slade?”
Raettonus glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. Trying to keep the emotion out of his voice he answered, “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Brecan swung his long tail side to side as they entered an empty corridor. “Well, because he just died. Again. And—and he left you behind,” said Brecan. “And he meant so much to you, and you had to watch him go off with Cykkus, and I can’t imagine how much that hurts. I mean, you tried so hard to keep him here—and you did good at it, Raet, you really did—but in the end, he just…died again. I—I just can’t imagine… I mean, no one would blame you if you’re sad or angry.”
“I’m not,” said Raettonus. “Really.”
“Well, okay. I mean, if you say so, Raet,” murmured Brecan. “I just…I’m afraid you are angry and sad, and you’re just going to turn all that inward. And that’s…it’s not good for you, Raet. It’s bad, ‘cause you’ll be walking around all full of pain and… I dunno, Raet, I just think that’s a bad thing.”
“I’m fine,” muttered Raettonus, barely holding back the edge on his voice. “Drop it.”
Brecan opened his mouth slightly, but seemed to think better of whatever he was going to say. He closed his mouth, and they walked quietly down the stairs together into another corridor full of rowdy Zylekkhan soldiers. After a while, Brecan spoke again. “I talked to Rhodes,” said the unicorn conversationally. “He was packing stuff up. He said we were going home. Are we going home, Raet? Back to Ti Tunfa?”
“Yeah,” Raettonus said. “Real soon. I’m tired of this place.”
“What about your students?” asked Brecan, his ears perking forward as he cocked his head to one side. “Aren’t you still having lessons with them?”
“Maeleht’s too sick to carry on with lessons,” said Raettonus. “I told him he wouldn’t be able to fully learn magic in a state like his. He really ought to have listened.”
“What about the other one? The older one?”
Raettonus shrugged. “He doesn’t come to the sessions, so the way I see it he must not want to learn,” he said.
They stepped out into the courtyard where wood was being stacked for a pyre, and a gallows was being hastily constructed from stone and wood. “That’s a lot of wood,” said Brecan.
“There’s a stack of bodies down in the holding cells,” Raettonus told him. “I came across them earlier. They must have been quietly killing guards and stashing them there. Guess they’re going to give them a proper burning.”
“A proper burning? Well, that’s nice of them,” said Brecan.
“Oh, yeah, real stand-up guys, all of them,” mumbled Raettonus. He caught sight of Dohrleht standing across the yard with a couple of the soldiers who were chuckling at something he was telling them. Raettonus motioned for Brecan to stay put. “Give me a second. I’ll be right back.”
The unicorn sat back on his haunches. “Oh, okay, Raet.”
The soldiers were leaving Dohrleht just as Raettonus reached him. Dohrleht watched Raettonus approach wearily. “Good afternoon,” he said in a small voice as Raettonus reached him.
“So, I guess you played a big role in Daeblau’s plan to get Kaebha back into Zylekkhan hands,” Raettonus said, hooking his thumbs through his belt. “Good job, or whatever.”
“Thanks,” said Dohrleht. “I…I really didn’t do all that much. I played lookout, mostly, and sent messages off with the hippogryphs that would come around. I…really, most everything that happened here happened because of Daeblau. He’s…he’s the hero. I just…I just helped a tiny bit.”
They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. “So,” Raettonus said at last. “I’m leaving. Maybe next week or the week after that. Soon, anyway.”
“You’re leaving?” asked Dohrleht, furrowing his brow. “Why? We haven’t finished learning.”
“Your brother’s far too sick to do any more magic,” said Raettonus. “As for you… Well, if you want to keep learning, you’ll have to do it under someone else. I’m done with this place.”
Dohrleht frowned. “Oh,” he said. “Well…I’ll be sad to see you go, Raettonus. And, uh…I’m sorry. About telling Slade, I’m…I’m really sorry.”
“Don’t be,” responded Raettonus. He looked away. “I was being an idiot. If you hadn’t told Slade, I would’ve let everyone in this whole damn fortress die. I was perfectly fine with murdering every one of you for his sake. Honestly? I still am. You slighted me by telling Slade, but it was unquestionably the right thing for you to do.”
He turned and started back toward Brecan. Behind him, Dohrleht made a hesitant move to follow, but was intercepted by a couple of soldiers congratulating him on helping take back the citadel. With one last glance at Raettonus’ back, Dohrleht cheerfully greeted them, and they began a boisterous conversation.
* * *
They hanged Diahsis at sunset.
He stood up on the gallows with his hands tied behind him, stripped naked but for his wolfskin cape, which hung limply off his broad, fit shoulders. His expression was blank as he stared out at the crowd.
“General Diahsis of Fybuk, son of Vaeminn Vohrtahl, One Hundred and Ninth Councilor of Shadows to the King of Tahlehsohr, serving King Saemohr,” said the executioner, reading from a slip of parchment. “On this day, the twenty-fifth day in the season of Kaeriaht, in the five thousandth and ninety-fifth year of the Creator, you have been brought forward to answer for your crimes against the Royal Zylekkhan Crown. Do you know what crimes you are accused of?”
“I do not,” answered Diahsis emotionlessly, still staring forward, his ears drawn back like an angry animal.
“General Diahsis of Fybuk, you have been found guilty of the murder of General Tykkleht of Sae Noklu, you have been found guilty of attempting to overthrow the Royal Zylekkhan Crown, you have been found guilty of blasphemous thoughts and actions against the god Cykkus, you have been found guilty of planning to give aid to goblins, and you have been found guilty of being an elf in possession of a blade which is longer than a knife.”
Diahsis scoffed at that, but said nothing.
“You have been found guilty,” continued the executioner, “of planning the murder of King Shalrish of Bribarrah, you have been found guilty of engaging in combat against the Royal Zylekkhan Army, you have been found guilty of the murders of four hundred and fifteen soldiers of the Royal Zylekkhan army through actions both direct and indirect. For these crimes, you have been sentenced, by General Ahkuriin of Bribarrah and by King Shalrish of Bribarrah whom he represents, to hang.”
Raettonus couldn’t help but note as the noose was placed around Diahsis’ neck that his murder of Deggho dek’Kariss was not amongst the charges brought against him.
“Do you have any final words?” asked the executioner.
Diahsis took a deep breath and let it out as a sigh. “What
good will words do me now?” he asked. “Just kill me.”
The executioner obliged and pushed him off the platform.
For a moment, Diahsis fell through the air. Then the rope went taut and jerked tight about his throat. Someone hadn’t done the knot quite right, however, so it didn’t break his neck. He thrashed about as the noose strangled the breath out of him slowly. He kicked his feet wildly into the empty air, his face growing dark red. It was a few minutes before he finally grew still and his body relaxed. After all the centaurs had turned their attention to the pyre which was being lit, Raettonus continued to watch Diahsis’ body sway slowly back and forth, the gallows creaking slightly with his weight.
As Raettonus watched, a ghostly shimmer appeared beneath the body on the ground. It coalesced and took on the shape of Diahsis. The ghost paced around the body and touched it with his ethereal hands as if trying to make sense of it. Raettonus approached the ghost and the body, and the soft sound of his boots in the dirt attracted its attention.
“Magician, thank the gods you’re here!” said Diahsis’ ghost. “I seem to be stuck outside my body.”
“You’re a ghost.”
Diahsis looked dismayed. “That doesn’t sound good,” he said. “Shouldn’t I be in Hell? Is this because I fought against the abassy? Am I banned from Hell now?”
Raettonus shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “It’s a possibility.”
Diahsis wrapped his spectral arms around one still leg of his body, looking distressed. “Does that mean I’m stuck here forever?” he wondered. He spun around toward Raettonus. “You’re a necromancer, aren’t you? You can put me back in my body!”
“Well, I could—kind of,” said Raettonus. “But it wouldn’t be at all the same as being alive. I don’t think you’d like it.”
“Let me decide what I will and won’t like,” said Diahsis, wagging a finger at Raettonus. “Just cut me down from there, and put me back in.”
Raettonus looked up at Diahsis’ body, which was still swaying slowly. “As you wish,” he said indifferently. He called to the nearest centaur who looked to be reasonably high-ranking that he was taking the body for research. The centaur nodded for him to go ahead, and Raettonus climbed onto the gallows. He pulled a knife from his boot and wrapped one arm around Diahsis’ chest, under his arms. As he cut the rope and the full weight of the body pulled on him, Raettonus grunted. He managed to keep hold of the body just fine and, readjusting it so the corpse was slung over his shoulder, he climbed down and started away.
“Wait, don’t leave me!” said Diahsis. “Where are you going?”
“To find somewhere private to do this,” Raettonus said. “Come on.”
Diahsis faltered. “I don’t know that I can,” he said. “It’s so dark and murky out there…”
Raettonus sighed and circled back around. He took one of Diahsis’ transparent hands in his own and led him away from the courtyard. Anchored to the material plane by the necromancer’s touch, Diahsis walked without fear or pause.
They went to the same disused kitchen where Raettonus had dissected Deggho, what seemed now like ages ago. Raettonus washed Diahsis’ body and laid it on a table atop the wolfskin cape while the ghost stood uncertainly behind him. Raettonus ran his hand down the body from chest to navel, light gathering around his fingers as he did. “What are you doing?” asked Diahsis.
“I’m casting a spell of light protection on your tissues,” Raettonus said, closing his eyes. “So they won’t rot while you’re walking around in them.”
“Oh,” said Diahsis. “That’s good. Keep doing that.”
A glowing trail began to appear on the cooling flesh where Raettonus ran his fingers. The line he traced in light grew thicker and thicker with each pass. After a time, the light began to spread outwards on its own, and Raettonus turned his attention to the face. With the noose removed, the blood had already fled back out of Diahsis’ cheeks, leaving him looking just as he had in life. Raettonus pressed one palm over the general’s eyes and muttered a short incantation. When he withdrew his hand, the flesh was glowing. As Raettonus continued his work, all of Diahsis’ body slowly but surely became illuminated, even down into the wolf-pelt cape.
Light flared up on Raettonus’ fingertips, and he began to press them against Diahsis’ cooling body, massaging the magic deep into the dead flesh.
Diahsis’ ghost let out a small chuckle as he watched Raettonus work. “Would that you’d have done that while I was still alive,” he said. Raettonus looked at him with a cocked eyebrow. “Ah—sorry. That’s…inappropriate, isn’t it?”
“Kind of, yes,” Raettonus answered.
“Sorry,” said Diahsis as Raettonus rubbed the light into the lower abdomen of his corpse. “I—it’s just been a very long time since I’ve been with a man, and I couldn’t help but think it…”
“Well, looks like you should’ve made that your last request then.”
“I did,” Diahsis said sourly, pursing his lips. “But they told me that lowly elves don’t get last requests.” He sighed and leaned his ethereal form against the sink. “All I wanted was a short tryst with a pretty man with a nice smile. Who denies a dying man something like that?”
Raettonus shrugged and lifted his hands from the corpse. “There, that’s done. Come here,” he said. “I need you to lie on top of the body.”
Diahsis’ ghost walked soundlessly to the table and lay on top of his lifeless body awkwardly. “How does this work?” he asked.
“I’m going to need you to keep very still,” Raettonus said, making certain everything was aligned. “This is going to hurt a lot, and even if everything goes well, you won’t ever have perfect control over your body the way you did when you were alive. But if you move at all—even a tiny bit—you’re going to have terrible control over your body.”
He placed his hand over Diahsis’ chest. A black aura began to gather around Raettonus’ fingertips as he pressed down hard and quick. The ghost cried out in pain as his soul rejoined his heart. To his credit, however, he didn’t squirm or flinch. Raettonus pressed down again on the bend of each of his elbows, and then again on his knees. Slowly the ghost faded away as Raettonus tied him back to his body. He pressed down on his ankles and hands and forehead. Diahsis screamed and howled, and as Raettonus got more and more of his ghost entwined with his body, the body began to work its mouth as if it were screaming as well. He pressed down on each of his fingers and on his shoulders and on his hips. Last of all, Raettonus pressed down on his lips and tongue and throat, and Diahsis’ screams burst forth and filled the room.
For a few minutes, Diahsis writhed and screamed and clutched at his throat. Little by little, however, the pain seemed to recede, and he calmed. For a moment, he lay on the table before he tried to sit up. There was no grace left in his movements, and his expression was blank. The only regions of his face that could still emote were the corners of his mouth and his eyebrows—and that was just barely.
All the same, he smiled slightly and said in slow, halting words, “Thank you, Magician.”
“You’re going to be like that forever,” Raettonus told him. “You won’t be able to hold that dagger of yours very well or fight properly with your sword or play your flute at all.”
“I can still listen to music though,” he said, standing. Raettonus helped him to his feet. “Maybe I can still manage with a two-handed sword, eh? It’s a brute’s weapon, so I don’t really need the dancer’s elegance I needed with my gladius and dagger.”
“So what are you planning to do now?” Raettonus asked as Diahsis took a few testing steps away from him.
The corners of Diahsis’ mouth twitched in as broad a smile as he could manage and he lifted his eyebrows just barely. “Why, I’m planning to get dressed,” he said. “After that… Ah, who cares?”
Raettonus brought him his armor and helped him dress. Some centaur had stomped on the breastplate and cracked the enamel, which caused Diahsis a bit of distress. He was over it
quickly enough however, and Raettonus helped him to leave the citadel unnoticed. With a clumsy wave, Diahsis left the magician, walking unevenly away into the mountains.
* * *
The last of Raettonus’ belongings had been moved back to Ti Tunfa. He thought only of how glad he would be to leave Kaeba behind as he passed through the hallways bustling with soldiers. He paused outside a closed door and knocked gently. After a short silence, the door cracked open and Ebha peered out. “Magician,” she said, and stepped back out of the doorway. “We weren’t expecting to see you.”
“Is Maeleht awake?” Raettonus asked.
She nodded and opened the door for him. Raettonus stepped past her into the room. Maeleht was lying on his side in a low, wide bed. “Raettonus,” he said with a weak smile. “I thought you’d left.”
“I was just leaving now, actually,” Raettonus told him, kneeling next to the bed. “I thought I’d see you before I did though. How’re you feeling?”
“Tired, but okay,” said Maeleht He sat up slowly. Ebha objected meekly, but he silenced her with a gesture. “I think I’m getting better.”
“Oh?” Raettonus forced himself to smile; it felt uncomfortably like lying. “That’s good to hear.” He unslung his bag and opened it. “I have something for you and your brother.”
“Really?” asked Maeleht. He leaned forward slightly, and his long, orange hair fell across his eyes. He brushed it back behind a slightly pointed ear. “What is it?”
Raettonus held up a pair of books. “This one’s for Dohrleht,” he said. “A friend of a friend wrote it. It’s about magic, and until he finds a new teacher it should help him become better.” He set it on the bedside table. “This one’s for you. It’s a guide for learning Zykyna.”
Maeleht raised his eyebrows. “Zykyna?” he asked. “Where’d you get something like that?”
“I wrote it,” he said. “It’s not finished, but you’re a smart kid. I’m sure you’ll be able to fill in the gaps I couldn’t.”