Dirge for a Necromancer (10 page)

“Understandable, I suppose. I am notoriously irresistible,” Raettonus said. “I suppose I can forgive you just this one—”

The words died away as Kimohr Raulinn pressed his mouth to Raettonus’ once again, this time threading the fingers of one hand through Raettonus’ long hair. With his other hand, the god began to roll down Raettonus’ tights over his thin hips. Raettonus pulled his lips slowly away from Kimohr Raulinn’s.

“Like I was saying—I’ll forgive you this once,” he said. “But, really, stop kissing me. I can’t help but feel you’re not treating this like the business transaction it is. No more with the kissing.”

Kimohr Raulinn sighed and propped himself up on his elbows. “Fine,” he said. “If you insist.” He untied the belt on his robes and pulled himself free of them. His body was pale and soft, and the skin was completely unmarred by scars or freckles or blemishes of any sort. With a sudden burst of aggressiveness that caught Raettonus off-guard, the god rolled him over onto his back and straddled his hips. “Well, I suppose, then, we should just get down to business, hm?”

“I suppose we should, yes,” answered Raettonus, his heartbeat quickening. With the god’s bare body atop him, he could feel his loins beginning to stir. Kimohr Raulinn chuckled softly and leaned down. Again he kissed Raettonus, but this time the man did not protest when they broke apart.

* * *

When they were finished with their tryst, Raettonus got dressed in awkward silence as Kimohr Raulinn wandered over to his bookshelf and began looking at his books. “Oh, I see,” he murmured, touching the ancient book Raettonus had used to cast his hiding spell. “This one is quite old. Kurok destroyed a lot of these a few thousand years ago because there was a spell in them that mortals were using to enchant weapons. Gods can only be killed by enchanted weapons, you know.”

“Was there something else you needed?” Raettonus asked evenly, cinching up his belt.

“Slade’s body. If you could tell me where he was buried, I can revive him a lot quicker. It’s hard for me to look into the world you came from, so I couldn’t look for his grave,” Kimohr Raulinn said, pulling out a book from the bookshelf. He began to thumb through it. “What is this? Is this from your world?”

“Yeah,” said Raettonus. “Even if it weren’t hard for you to look for it, you’d never find his grave. I never buried Master Slade. Give me a moment; I’ll get his body for you.”

Raettonus went to the bed and knelt on it. Taking a deep breath, he reached his hands out and focused on reaching into that holding space between worlds. His fingers brushed against a pitcher and a book with a soft leather cover. He kept probing the area until he felt cloth beneath his fingers. Beneath the cloth was flesh—stiff and cold and dead. He grabbed hold of the corpse and pulled it out of that space, onto the bed.

Sir Slade looked just the same as he had the day Raettonus had put him into that timeless world between worlds. His eyes and cheeks were sunken, but he hadn’t decayed. He was dressed in his best clothing, all in black and red with rampant gryphons embroidered across his chest. Raettonus remembered how he had washed and bandaged the wound that had killed him; between the fresh clothes and the red of his doublet, you couldn’t even tell there had been a wound. Slade’s empty blue eyes, clouded with death and illness, stared upwards.

Kimohr Raulinn closed the book he’d been looking at and walked to the bedside. “You kept his corpse?” asked the god. “Well. That’s not creepy. Not at all. Can I have this book?”

“No,” said Raettonus, taking it from him.

“All right,” said Kimohr Raulinn. “I was only asking. There’s no need to snap.” He took Slade’s limp wrist. “It’s going to take a while, but I’ll make him live again. In the meanwhile, make sure you take care of yourself. I’m sure you don’t have anything to worry about, but you never know what might be sailing your way. Until we meet again, my sweet Raettonus.”

And then he was gone, along with the body of Sir Slade. Raettonus stared at the place where the corpse had been for a full minute before he went to place his old tome back in the bookcase. He was sore all over, and he felt unclean. Deciding a bath might do him good, he snuffed out the fire in the brazier and left his room.

As he thought of what had just transpired, he couldn’t help but feel like a fool to let Kimohr Raulinn have his way with him so easily and then go off with Slade’s body, just like that. The god claimed he could resurrect him, but Raettonus didn’t have any proof he really could. He’d been far too trusting, he realized as he made his way toward the Kaebha Citadel’s bathing facilities. He’d allowed himself to believe Kimohr Raulinn could fix everything, and he’d been used.

As he opened the door to the bathing room, a cloud of steam rushed to meet Raettonus. The chamber within was large and cavernous, with several large pools carved into the stone floors. Centaurs were milling about, both in the water and beside it, as Raettonus stripped and made his way down into one of the pools. The side of the bath gently sloped to a flat bottom to make it easy for centaurs to get in and out, and the water was hot, but not hot enough to bother Raettonus in any way. He closed his eyes and sank beneath the water for a minute before resurfacing. His long, blond hair—now untied—spread out around his head and shoulders like blood in the water.

The pool he had chosen was empty but for him. In the bath beside him, however, two soldiers were splashing at each other and shouting in Kaerikyna. It was an awful language, Kaerikyna—it was full of hard sounds and the words were all too long. Centaurs had the most hideous language he’d ever heard. He much preferred what they called Common Zylekkhan—a hodgepodge language mostly based in Taurkyna, with some Kaerikyna, Zykyna, and Dokk’kyna words. It was far smoother, with a grammatical construction closer to English.

Raettonus leaned against the wall of the bath and relaxed, letting the heat loosen the knots in his muscles. He watched a group of four soldiers—one bay, one black, one roan, and one dun—showing off their scars beside his pool. The roan held up his arm proudly, showing his fellows a hard patch of tissue where something had once impaled his biceps. The dun said something in Kaerikyna and motioned back to his withers, where a chunk of flesh was missing and scarred over. Raettonus grew tired of watching them and, inclining his head, closed his eyes.

After a bit, he heard some of the centaurs shout and opened his eyes again. Beyond the steam, he saw a couple of soldiers teasing a human woman at the entrance to the bathhouse. Ebha. She ducked her head, mumbled something, and shuffled past them. Raettonus whistled and called out to her. She looked at him wide-eyed, and for a moment she looked as though she were about to flee. “Come on over here. There’s plenty of room in this one,” said Raettonus, waving her toward him. She glanced about, and then obeyed, stripping down and entering his pool.

Ebha moved quietly to the other side of the bath, staring glassy-eyed at the door. “H-hello, Magician,” she greeted quietly after a moment or two. “It’s…a nice night.”

“I disagree. I think it’s an awful night,” said Raettonus.

“Oh,” she said, lowering her gaze to stare into the water. “I’m sorry. I suppose I misspoke.”

“Yes, you certainly did. Don’t let it happen again,” Raettonus said with a smirk.

“I won’t,” said Ebha.

The smirk disappeared from Raettonus’ face. “I was joking, just now.”

“Oh,” said the woman. “I’m sorry, Magician. It was a good joke, Magician.”

Raettonus sighed and closed his eyes. “Never mind, then,” he muttered. “I suppose that’s as good a conversation as I’ll get out of you, isn’t it?”

“I’m sorry, Magician,” she said again.

“This is a record for the longest conversation you and I have ever had, I must say. What is this, the second time we’ve spoken? Although, when I think of it… The other day, some time back, you seemed rather interested when you thought I could resurrect people,” Raettonus noted. “Is there any particular reason for that?”

She was silent for a moment, hesitant. “No, Magician,” she finally said, weakly.

“You shouldn’t lie,” Raettonus said. “Isn’t that the sort of thing a pet like you gets beaten for?”

Ebha stared down at the water. “Y-yes, it is,” she said. “I’m sorry, Magician.”

“So,” Raettonus asked. “Who was it that died?”

“My daughter,” she said. “It was a long time ago though…”

There was a shout outside the door, and two soldiers in scale mail rode in, panting hard. “Quick—to your arms!” shouted one of them. “Ships have been spotted—warships from Tahlehsohr. To the battlements, quickly!”

Soldiers splashed up out of the baths, picking up their mail and weapons and helping each other strap them on. Ebha climbed out of the pool to help the nearest soldier suit up in his armor. Raettonus watched the commotion around him as centaurs scurried to and fro, gathering their armor and weapons and suiting each other up. There was a lot of confusion and excited shouts and concerned whispers. The soldiers who had managed to get their armor on galloped out of the bathhouse. Raettonus climbed out of the pool and got dressed before making his way out of the room, careful not to get trampled by the exiting soldiers. Out in the hall, the soldiers were clamoring about, the frantic sounds of hoofbeats echoing through the building as they ran to the barracks to wake their brothers. War horns were blowing wildly all over.

The giant, heavy doors on the face of the citadel were closed and braced, and the portcullis had been lowered. All the soldiers were galloping up toward the roof in neat rows, shouting and chattering, carrying swords, shields, bows, spears, and halberds. Raettonus stopped one of the soldiers as he was coming out of the bathhouse—the roan centaur he had seen earlier. “If I could get a ride to the battlements, please,” he said, in a tone that did not allow any declining.

“Certainly, Magician,” said the soldier. “But we must go quickly; my bow is needed.”

Raettonus effortlessly mounted the centaur and seated himself uncomfortably on the plate mail that ran along his back. He gripped the strap of the soldier’s quiver as he cantered into line with the others and began to ascend the stairs up to the citadel’s top. On their way up, Brecan managed to find him and squeeze into the column at his side. “What’s going on?” Brecan asked. “Everyone was shouting…”

“Tahlehson warships are apparently coming toward us,” Raettonus said.

Brecan sucked his breath in through his teeth. “That’s not good,” he said. “How many?”

“Don’t know. No one said,” Raettonus told him. “But from the fervor around here, I’d guess it’s enough to be a threat.”

The unicorn flattened his ears and cocked his head to the side. “What do you suppose Tahlehson warships would want with us, Raet?”

“War, I’d imagine.”

Because of the crowded, chaotic conditions of the citadel, it was quite a few minutes before they reached the roof. Just as soon as there was room for him to do so, Raettonus hopped off the roan centaur’s back. Archers were already taking the walls all around, setting up to either side of the iron spikes that made a cage over the Kaebha Citadel. Raettonus walked beside Brecan for a ways before mounting him so he could look over the archers lining the battlements. Sitting down, however, he couldn’t see over the heads of the massive man-horses. With a frustrated grunt, Raettonus grabbed hold of Brecan’s horn and used it to brace himself as he moved into a standing position on the unicorn’s back.

“Do you see the ships?” Brecan asked him, wincing a little as Raettonus rested some of his weight on his smooth, glassy horn.

“Oh, yeah,” said Raettonus, frowning. “I see them.”

“How many?” asked Brecan as the soldiers moved the catapults into position and began to load them.

“A line of them,” Raettonus said, squinting at the moonlit ocean, his focus on the dark shapes of the Tahlehson warships. “All along the horizon, in either direction for as far as I can see.”

Brecan flattened his ears and his tail drooping. “That many?” he said. “Maybe…do you think maybe they’re not hostile?”

Just as Raettonus was about to respond, a fair-sized rock struck the citadel, clanging against the cage on top of it. This was followed by another, which struck low on the stone of the fort and caused the building to shake a bit. Raettonus lost his balance and almost fell, but Brecan caught him with his wings. Frowning, Raettonus reseated himself as the catapults aboard the warships fired more rocks, most of which simply slammed harmlessly against the cliff side.

“No,” Raettonus said. “No, I’d definitely say they’re hostile.”

Chapter Six

Though the centaurs fired their arrows and catapults, and took down a couple ships and dozens of Tahlehson soldiers in the process, they couldn’t stop the invaders from landing. Most of the ships sailed on around the bend of the coast to land somewhere out of sight. There were enough Tahlehson ships left behind at Kaebha, however, to make the prospects of overpowering them seem bleak. When Raettonus went to sleep, the archers were still at it, trying to whittle down the foreign force before they could mount their attack.

When dawn broke, the Tahlehsons had made it part way up the mountain and were out of range of the Zylekkhans’ weapons. “They’re setting up for a siege,” General Tykkleht told Raettonus when he asked the magician to attend him in the citadel’s shrine the following day. Raettonus noticed that there were many, many more candles burning at the base of Cykkus’ statue today than he had seen previously, and even more were at the statues of Kurok, Harkkan, and Virkki.

“Do you have the provisions here to hold off a siege?” Raettonus asked as he knelt with the general beside the statue of Kurok. The shrine was packed with soldiers stopping in between shifts.

“For a time,” Tykkleht said. “But at some point we’re going to have to engage them, I fear. I’m certain they didn’t sail all the way from Tahlehsohr to sit around a few months, get bored, and leave.”

“No, probably not,” Raettonus said. He could tell Tykkleht was hoping he’d offer his sword to defend the citadel. He had more than enough power as a pyromancer to raze the whole Tahlehson fleet and every single soldier they’d brought. But Raettonus didn’t offer; it wasn’t his fight.

When Tykkleht was done with his prayers, they walked together to Dohrleht and Maeleht’s room. “It’s such a large force,” said the general. “I hope the other citadels are holding up. I’d send a messenger out to them, but—regrettably—there aren’t any ‘gryphs here. We’re supposed to keep some as messengers, but they’ve all left on errands. All we have here now in terms of flyers is your friend, Brecan. I’m wondering if perhaps—”

Raettonus shot him a glare. “I will not let you send Brecan out as a messenger,” he said sharply. “He is not part of your army and will not be shot down because you were curious about how the other fortresses were holding up. Focus on holding your fort, General, and then see if there’s still a Zylekkha to hold it for.”

“I think there’s a substantial flaw in your plan, Magician,” said Tykkleht. He sighed and rubbed at his sagging chin. “I’ll take it under consideration, however. What else can I do?”

“I don’t really care what you do, just so long as you don’t put Brecan in danger’s way to do it,” he said. “Any messenger you send out is surely going to get a hundred arrows through their wings, and that’s if they’re lucky.”

“I’ve seen the unicorn fly,” Tykkleht said. “He’s a quick one. I think if there were ever a flyer who had a chance getting past a host that size—”

“I’m not going to discuss this,” Raettonus told him bluntly. “Brecan is not part of your army, and he is not going to become part of your army. Find a different god damn messenger, do you understand me, General?”

Tykkleht furrowed his brow and looked down at Raettonus coldly. “Yes, I understand you, Magician,” he said, his voice tightly restrained.

“Good,” said Raettonus. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a job you’ve paid me to do. Good day to you, General, and good luck with your war.”

He left the general at the door to the young centaurs’ room and went inside. Dohrleht had a sword sheathed at his waist, and Maeleht looked positively terrified. Looking around, Raettonus noticed Ebha wasn’t there. “Where’s your woman?” Raettonus asked, setting down a book and some dried herbs on the table.

“She’s helping in the infirmary, getting it ready to handle the load when the fighting starts. Also, I guess some of the men got injured last night, so she’s probably looking after them,” Dohrleht said. “Did you see the invaders? Dad won’t let us up on the roof to look.”

“I don’t want to look,” said Maeleht. “It sounds dangerous.”

Dohrleht punched him in the arm. “Stop being such a coward,” he said. “You talk like an elf.”

“I do not!” objected Maeleht. “I just think that it sounds dangerous, that’s all!”

“Elf!”

“Shut up! I’m not an elf!”

“Boys,” said Raettonus. “We have a lesson to get to, if you please.”

“Yes, Raettonus,” they said in unison, scooting away from one another.

“Raettonus,” said Maeleht, after a moment. “Do you think…do you think it’s going to come to fighting? I mean, actual fighting, not just our archers loosing arrows down from the parapets?”

“I don’t know much about military matters, so I couldn’t say. That’s a question you’d be better off asking your father,” Raettonus said, arranging herbs on the table.

“Our father wouldn’t tell us,” said Dohrleht sourly. “He thinks he’s protecting us by lying and saying that it’s all going to be okay. When I asked him whether the Tahlehsons might get through the doors, he just said that Kaebha is the strongest fort in all of Zylekkha. I don’t even know if that’s true.”

“Ask Daeblau, then,” Raettonus said. “He’s the second in command here, isn’t he? Maybe he’d know, and maybe he wouldn’t lie to you.”

“But he might,” Dohrleht said. “He wouldn’t want us to be scared either.”

“You wouldn’t lie to us, though—right, Raettonus?” asked Maeleht.

“Probably not,” Raettonus said with a shrug. “But as I told you before, I don’t know anything about it. Now let’s get down to our lessons. What’s this herb called?”

“Larkspur,” said Maeleht.

“Good,” Raettonus said. “What’s it used for?”

Maeleht frowned uncertainly. “To see ghosts?” he asked.

Dohrleht punched him in the arm. “No, stupid—that’s Elf Leaf,” he said. “Larkspur keeps ghosts away.”

“Dohrleht’s right,” Raettonus said. “Larkspur keeps ghosts away, and Elf Leaf is for seeing them. Now, if you’d care to point out which of these is Elf Leaf, Dohrleht?”

Dohrleht looked around at the selection of herbs and bit his lower lip. “Um…I guess it’s…this one?”

“That’s Sorcerer’s Violet,” Maeleht said.

“Indeed it is,” said Raettonus with a nod. “Maeleht, hit your brother for getting it wrong.”

With a grin, Maeleht punched Dohrleht in the arm. “Hey—ouch,” said Dohrleht, rubbing the spot where he had been struck.

* * *

After their lessons were done for the day, Raettonus called on Deggho dek’Kariss, who was very relieved by the visit. Deggho rambled on about how lonely he had been, leading Raettonus by the arm to his art room to continue painting him. Raettonus settled into his seat on the couch as Deggho took his place behind the canvas and began mixing up his paints. “So,” said Raettonus as the goblin began to work. “We’re under siege.”

“Siege? From who? Is it the Kariss?” asked Deggho hopefully.

“The Tahlehson army,” Raettonus answered, shaking his head.

Deggho’s large, jagged ears lowered. “Oh, I see,” he said. He rubbed his brush in some paint. “That’s…unfortunate. Is it a big host?”

“Fairly large,” Raettonus said. “Only a portion of them stayed here. The rest sailed on to God knows where.”

“I suppose they’d have gone north, toward Bribarrah,” Deggho suggested. “If they’re smart though, I suspect they won’t attack Bribarrah. Its wall is said to be the strongest in the entire realm. It’d be a waste of time.”

Raettonus nodded. “I suppose that in their place,” he said after a moment, “I would probably land on the western coast and march inland. Sae Noklu has most of the farmland, and there’s no wall around any of it. Razing it would cripple Bribarrah and all the fortresses on the southern coast.”

“If they manage to break into Kaebha, do you think they’ll keep me as a hostage?” Deggho wondered. “The Kariss hate the Zylekkhan centaurs, but we don’t have a reason to hate the Tahlehsons. Maybe they’ll release me in hopes of gaining an alliance.”

“I somehow doubt it,” said Raettonus. “After all, what could the Kariss possibly offer them? They’re an extensive, trained army. The Kariss weren’t able to take down Kaebha, where—if that comes to pass—the Tahlehson were.”

Deggho frowned. “You say that like the Kariss are completely useless,” he said. “My people are powerful warriors. We kill dragons.”

“How awe inspiring,” said Raettonus dryly. “Honestly though, that’s not enough to make the Kariss an ally of any interest to actual soldiers.”

Deggho mumbled something to himself in his native tongue, but dropped the argument. They sat in a silence broken only by the softly crackling torches on the walls and the faint sound of Deggho’s brush on the canvas. After a while, the goblin leaned back in his chair. “I’m finished,” he announced, a look of pride swelling on his face. “If I may say, I think this might be one of the best portraits I’ve ever done.”

He turned the easel so Raettonus could see the picture. There was no denying it was a handsome image, nearly flawless in its likeness of the magician. It showed him from head to chest, gazing at something far distant with half-closed eyes and a tight expression of disgust. Behind him, embers swirled in the darkness, and stray strands of his hair blew in the same strange wind. All in all, it was a very masterfully done piece of art, and Raettonus found it rather impressive, to say the least.

Deggho looked eagerly at Raettonus while he studied the painting, plainly waiting on his approval. How much would it crush him, Raettonus wondered, if I were to tell him I hated it?

“Oh,” said Raettonus blandly. “It’s… Well, thank you anyway.”

One of Deggho’s eyes twitched as he gripped tightly to the easel. “What?” he asked frantically. “What’s wrong? You don’t like it? What did I do wrong?”

“No, nothing,” said Raettonus with a shrug. “Certainly I like it.”

“You don’t sound like you do,” mumbled Deggho. “If you don’t like it, please, tell me how I can—”

“No, no,” said Raettonus, barely containing a smirk at the goblin’s dismay. “I do like it. It’s…nice. No, really. It’s very…nice.”

The goblin seemed close to tears. “Oh,” he said. “I…I could repaint it, if you want.”

“No, no, it’s all right,” Raettonus said, waving his hand dismissively. “I should be going, then.”

“Wait, don’t go,” said Deggho, grabbing Raettonus’ hand and squeezing it tightly. His flesh was clammy and unpleasant. “You only just got down here. I…I don’t want to be left alone.”

“I have other places to be,” Raettonus said coldly, pulling himself out of Deggho dek’Kariss’ grip.

“But—you’ll be back tomorrow, right?” asked Deggho. He was beginning to grow somewhat panicked. “Please—you’ve got to come back tomorrow. If you don’t, I won’t know what to do with myself. I hate it down here, Raettonus. There’s a room filled with weapons in this wing, and sometimes I go into there and I sit and I look at all those old swords and I think ‘what would it be like, if I just jammed this into my stomach?’ I don’t know that I’d have enough strength to do it, but every day I spend down here, I start believing a little more that yes, I might. If you don’t come back, I’m afraid, Raettonus—I’m afraid I’m going to hurt myself.” Raettonus didn’t answer. For a long while, Deggho stared at him pleadingly.

“We’ll see,” said Raettonus, untouched.

“Please come back,” Deggho said in a tiny, scared voice. “When I’m all alone, I start to wonder if I even exist at all. It’s a nightmare, Raettonus. I start to wonder if I exist, and I start to wonder if it’d be better to die, that way I’ll know for sure if I was ever even alive. You’ll come back, won’t you?”

“We’ll see,” Raettonus said again, and he left the goblin behind to retire to his chamber.

* * *

All night, the citadel rang with the sound of sword practice in the courtyard and of soldiers tramping through the halls. Somewhere in the hall outside Raettonus’ room a clock ticked solemnly on. Between the constant sounds and his strange nightmares, Raettonus couldn’t manage to get any quality sleep. When he groggily awoke the next morning, the sounds were still going strong as Kaebha Citadel buzzed with war.

Raettonus had dreamed a strange dream. He could only remember it in pieces—just the barest bones of what had occurred—and for a long time he lay still on his bed trying to pull the fragmented images into something coherent.

It had been gray. Everything had been desolate and cold and gray. There had been rocks—it had been outside somewhere—but there were no trees, no sun, no moon, no wind, no sky. Just a rocky void, all in gray. Gray save for a single figure clad in white, crossing the expanse all alone.

Rocks. There had been enormous, massive, monstrous rocks. Gray stone monoliths that towered tens of feet above the ground. They jutted up from the earth like arrows jutting out of cooling flesh.

Something was important about these rocks. Raettonus closed his eyes and tried very hard to remember…

There were men. There were men chained to the rocks. Chained like Prometheus, arms stretched wide. They screamed. They wouldn’t stop screaming. The figure in white paid them no mind. They weren’t the ones he wanted. The dozens of Prometheuses screamed and screamed and were ignored.

Was there more to it? He felt as though he was missing something, but hard as he tried, he couldn’t dredge up any more of the dream. With a frustrated sigh, Raettonus opened his eyes and scowled at the ceiling.

Getting out of bed, he stepped on something cold and hard. With a hiss, he withdrew his foot and looked down to find the carved unicorn lying on the floor. He picked it up, figuring it must’ve slipped out of Kimohr Raulinn’s robe when he’d undressed. “Just as well,” murmured Raettonus, setting it on his desk. “I can give it back to Rhodes when we return to Ti Tunfa. Maybe as a lark, I’ll show it to him and then smash it into a thousand pieces. That’d be a good way to liven up a slow afternoon.”

He smirked to himself and got dressed.

* * *

For months afterward, tension filled the citadel. Day and night, the soldiers practiced and walked the walls. The Tahlehson host huddled at a safe distance, shielded by the natural curves of the mountain, as they painstakingly worked to harvest timber in order to prepare a covered ram and some catapults. It was a tedious, long process, however, since the only trees were miles away and had to be hauled along the treacherous roads to their campsite.