Dirge for a Necromancer (6 page)

“Oh, a smallish war?” Raettonus said, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, definitely nothing to write home about. I mean, only a war?”

“Well, see, that’s it exactly,” said Tykkleht, fixing Raettonus with a hard gaze. “It was a conflict, like you might expect in an outpost like this, and it wasn’t a remarkable one by any means. Not even goblins are stupid enough to think they could take a fort like this with their melee weapons. Instead they would ambush our patrols and attack our guards. Well, I’ll be damned if I was going to let them make us retreat behind our walls as though we were in full siege mode. Instead, we took the fight to them. Goblins move their villages around a lot, though. They just pack up their huts and move. So we couldn’t just destroy them while they were sleeping. We got in a few lucky strikes though, and grabbed some hostages, and when we were getting their names we just happened to have gotten a dek’Kariss, and we knew what that meant.”

“Victory?”

The corner of Tykkleht’s mouth twitched into an amused smile. “No, Magician,” he said. “It meant peace. We returned the other hostages, but Deggho stays with us, to be executed if we’re molested by the Kariss any further. As long as his father’s the chief, or one of his brothers is, we don’t need to fight the goblins anymore. After that…well, maybe there’ll be a chief who never knew Deggho and doesn’t care what happens to him, and when that time comes, I’ll probably just release him. In the mean time, however, it stops my men from getting murdered while they’re trying to do their jobs, and I try not to treat Deggho too badly.”

“You’re a very kind man, General,” Daeblau said.

Raettonus stared at his soup, which had gone uneaten. He was more tired than he was hungry—though he was certainly hungry too. However, the soup had gone cold, and an orange film of fatty oil had begun to form at its top. It didn’t look very appetizing. He pushed it over to Brecan, who went at it happily, and began nibbling on some bread.

The conversation went on, but Raettonus was too tired to contribute much of anything to it. The general spoke at length about everything from how he began his military career putting down a vampirian rebellion, to how the Kaebha Citadel got its supplies from boats that sailed out of Bribarrah. He was a very tedious man, Raettonus decided early on into the conversation, who liked his own voice and thought himself wise. Raettonus also found himself hating Daeblau, who nodded and agreed with the general far too eagerly. Raettonus would glance across to find him deep in quiet conversation with Dohrleht whenever he wasn’t agreeing with the general. By the time Ebha arrived with the actual meal, Raettonus was practically half asleep.

He only ate a small amount before pushing away from the table. “I’m afraid I’ve overtaxed myself today,” he said. “Good night, gentlemen.”

“Would you like me to escort you back to your quarters?” Daeblau asked. “I’d be more than happy to.”

“I don’t need to be escorted, Captain. I do believe I know the way perfectly well,” Raettonus answered with an edge in his voice. “Good night.”

He left them all there, enjoying their meal and having their dull conversations. He had never really been one for conversations anyway, but the least they could do was attempt to be interesting. Talking about the citadel’s supply ships wasn’t even trying. Effort was all he asked for. Raettonus stepped out into the dim, cold hallway. For a moment, he stood in a patch of light from the fires within Tykkleht’s hall. Then the door closed, and he was left in darkness and silence.

He still preferred it to Tykkleht’s constant droning.

Chapter Three

“Master Raettonus?” Maeleht asked, several weeks into their lessons. “Why isn’t your magic elemental in nature?”

“Some of it is,” Raettonus answered. He lifted his hand, and a tiny fire appeared over his fingers.

“How do you do that?” asked Dohrleht. “I want to learn that. We’re wasting our time with all these languages you’ve been teaching us.”

“What I mean,” said Maeleht. “I mean—I was told all magic comes from the Elemental Pillars, so it’s all either light magic, shadow magic, fire magic—”

“I told you—I have fire magic covered.”

“—wind magic, or rock magic. Or it can be the low elements, but I don’t remember those ones.”

“Chaos,” Dohrleht said. “Chaos was definitely one of them. And water.”

Raettonus sighed and snuffed out the flame in his hand. “Look,” he said. “Magic is a complicated thing, and there are no set rules that apply universally. In different realms, magic takes different forms. Zylxian magic is based on ten elements. That’s well enough. But I’m not Zylxian. I’m not bound by your realm’s rules.”

“We’re Zylxian though,” Dohrleht said. “Does that mean we’re bound by the rules of this realm?”

“No, not really,” Raettonus said dismissively. “Once you learn one system of magic, if you have the means to understand others then it’s not too difficult to learn those sorts of magic. That’s if you can do any magic at all. Some people can’t. Hell, some people can do some types of magic, but are unable to do others no matter how hard they study. I guess I’m saying that magic is mostly luck.”

“That’s not very encouraging,” Dohrleht said with a frown.

“Well, I’m not a very encouraging type of person.”

For a few months, Raettonus taught them no magic. He was barely able to do any himself after the exertion involved in the spell of hiding he had conducted. Instead of magic, he taught them to read Taurkyna and a little bit of English. He tried to teach them some math as well, but they knew all the simple stuff, and the harder math served mostly to throw him through a loop. Finally, he decided they probably wouldn’t need to know any more math anyway and gave up on it. He taught them some of the more important points of Zylekkhan history, but he didn’t know too much about it, and found himself instead usually matched in knowledge by the brothers. He usually spent their lessons explaining different magic or—usually at Maeleht’s request—telling them about other realms.

“What about the realm you came from?” Dohrleht asked one day after Raettonus had just finished telling them about the realm of Cordichad, which was almost completely engulfed by oceans. “What was your realm like?”

Raettonus thought for a moment. “It wasn’t anything special,” he said. “It was just a place. Nothing I could say about it would be of any interest to you.”

“I think we could decide what’s of interest to us,” muttered Dohrleht, crossing his arms and readjusting his crippled leg.

“Please?” asked Maeleht. “I really want to know.”

Raettonus sighed and brushed some stray strands of hair out his face. “Fine, fine,” he said. “It was a very wet place, when I was a child. So wet that, for a while, crops wouldn’t grow. They just drowned in the fields, and it wouldn’t stop raining. That was just for a few years though. Other than that the land was…mostly fields and forests and orchards and some hills. I couldn’t say much more. I didn’t travel a lot when I lived there.”

“Why’d you leave?” asked Maeleht.

He shrugged. “Because there was no reason for me to stay there,” he responded. It was an empty answer. “Let’s get back to language, hm? Which would you rather do today? Taurkyna?”

“English,” said Maeleht, flicking his tail.

“We’re never going to use English,” said Dohrleht disagreeably.

“We’re never going to use Taurkyna either,” Maeleht said. “What are we ever going to have to do with elves?”

Dohrleht turned to Raettonus. “Couldn’t you teach us Zykyna?” he asked. “I mean, that’s something you know, right?”

“Not well enough to teach it,” Raettonus said. “We’ll study English today.”

“What?” asked Dohrleht. “Why English? My vote was for Taurkyna.”

“Maybe I like Maeleht better,” Raettonus said with a shrug. The younger brother beamed until Dohrleht punched him in the arm.

* * *

The sun was beginning to set when they finished their lesson for the day. As Raettonus walked the halls of the citadel, rusty orange light filtered in through the arrow slits in the outward-facing walls. He paused beside one to look out on the mountaintops below, bathed in dusky sunlight. Slade used to tell him that dusk was the time when magic was strongest; it was the time when faeries came out to play. In Zylekkha, it was the time faeries came out to hunt and kill. A hippogryph was soaring in a lazy circle near the citadel, until a few of the guards nocked their arrows and loosed them at it. With a screech, the hippogryph plummeted, landing hard on the stone with a horrible crunch. The centaurs let up a cheer and two of them went to retrieve their kill.

Raettonus moved away from the arrow slit. A sweet smell was drifting from the main dining hall where the soldiers ate together, but Raettonus didn’t seek it out. He preferred to take his meals in his room, alone. As he passed by the doorway to the dining hall, he could hear the laughter and conversations of the soldiers as they teased and chatted and roughhoused. He met a pair of centaurs as he was passing who were coming from the hall with a tray of food. It didn’t look very appetizing. Mostly it seemed to be fatty meat, bones, and slightly burnt bread. “Hello, Magician,” said one of the soldiers, bowing his head politely.

“Who’s that for?” Raettonus asked, nodding toward the tray.

“It’s for the goblin,” the other centaur said.

“Deggho dek’Kariss?” Raettonus said, and the pair nodded. He hadn’t thought much about Deggho since meeting him that day. He thought for a moment about the conversation they had had. “I think I’ll accompany you, gentlemen—if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not, Magician,” said one of them, hesitating just a bit, and they started down the hall together.

When they reached the foot of the stairs that led into the hostage’s domain, Raettonus relieved them of the tray and bid them a curt farewell before walking into the darkness. He could hear something moving around at the other end of the chamber in the impenetrable shadow, but this time he knew it was only the goblin creeping about. They met in the middle of the grimy hall.

“Magician Raettonus,” said Deggho. It was too dark for Raettonus to see him. “I—I was beginning to think you weren’t coming back. Actually, I was beginning to think that I maybe imagined our whole conversation. I do that sometimes. I get to thinking how quiet it is down here, and how lonely, and I imagine someone’s down here with me and we talk about all kinds of things… Is that my dinner?”

“It is,” Raettonus said, holding it out. The goblin took it from him.

“Are you here to be painted? I have a canvas set up in another room,” Deggho said. He locked his arm around Raettonus’, and the magician flinched.

“Sure. Why not?” said Raettonus, letting Deggho lead him to the room he’d spoken of.

To Raettonus’ relief, the room was well lit with torches blazing on the walls. It was a medium-sized room, messy with painting supplies, with a couch, a chair, a table, and an easel with a blank canvas board set upon it. Deggho set the tray down on the table and led Raettonus to the couch before rearranging the easel and the chair so he could look past the canvas at Raettonus.

Raettonus sat uneasily on the stained couch. “How have you been?” Deggho asked him, taking up a paintbrush and seating himself behind the easel.

“Better than you, I imagine.”

Deggho smiled crookedly. “Well, that’s not too hard to manage,” he said as he began to paint.

“Why do you paint so many pictures of gods?” Raettonus asked after a moment. “Doesn’t that get tedious after a while?”

“Not really,” said Deggho. “There are so many scenes I can think of to make into pictures. I think that even if I spent the rest of my life painting, I still wouldn’t have painted one image from every story that I know. Besides, the gods like to be honored. I’m not allowed to leave this floor, so I can’t honor them in the shrine. This is all I can do.”

“Your gods are vain.”

Deggho chuckled. “Well, maybe,” he said. “But they’re gods—isn’t it their right? I’d be proud too, if I were a god.”

“You’re a chief’s son,” Raettonus said. “You don’t seem particularly proud of that.”

“I’m not a great man, Magician,” said the goblin, frowning. “You know how I got captured by these centaurs? I was asleep. I didn’t even put up a fight when I woke up. What should I be proud about? I’m a shame to my father, and my brothers, and the Kariss in general.”

They sat in a stiff silence, and Raettonus began to regret coming down there. The torches flickered on the walls, and Raettonus stared into them absently. Finally, Deggho started the conversation up again. “You don’t worship our gods, do you?” he asked. “You have your own gods from the Other Realm.”

“I don’t keep any gods at all,” Raettonus answered. “I used to. But that’s neither here nor there. I wouldn’t have taken you for a religious man, Deggho, I must admit.”

Deggho smiled. “I like to pretend that I talk to the gods when I’m all alone,” he said. “It helps pass the time. That and painting them, of course.”

“I take it Kaeriaht’s your favorite to paint,” Raettonus said. “I see a lot of paintings of him on the walls around here.”

“Oh, that’s really just for the soldiers,” Deggho said. “I’m not overly fond of Kaeriaht. Kaeriaht created the centaurs, after all—we goblins would’ve had an easier time if he hadn’t done that.” He chuckled and set down his paintbrush before grabbing up a larger one. “No, I prefer to paint the elven gods. They’re much more majestic. My favorite to paint, actually, is the Moon Son. I don’t do that much though.”

Raettonus raised his eyebrow. “The Moon Son?” asked the magician. “I’ve never heard of him.”

Deggho shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “It’s not really his name,” he said. He dropped his voice to barely a whisper. “It’s another name for Kimohr Raulinn.” He cleared his throat and shifted again in his seat. “Like painting him, though, it’s not a good thing to say his name.”

“Really?” Raettonus asked. “Why’s that?”

“Because it’s bad luck,” the goblin answered. “Saying his name, painting him—anything like that—it draws his attention to you. Sometimes it doesn’t matter, but other times there’s no way to escape his notice after that. And he is not the kind of god you want to notice you. He’s cruel and… Well, needless to say, ‘chaos god’ is not a very honorable position.”

“Indeed,” Raettonus said. “I’ve never heard any of this before. And, well, I’m not new around here.”

“You’re new around here,” Deggho said. “The mountains, I mean. Up north, they don’t hold onto the past as well as goblins. I’ve heard centaurs just throw his name about casually. It’s bad luck, but they don’t seem aware… Goblins try to say it as little as possible, and it’s worked out well for us. We’ve never gone to war with any of the other races.”

“That’s because you live in the mountains,” Raettonus said. “To get in a war, it’d have to mean that any of the other races wanted these bloody rocks and weeds.”

“The centaurs want the mountains,” Deggho said in a small voice, looking slightly hurt.

Raettonus made a point of looking widely around the room, at the stone walls and floor, before returning his gaze to Deggho. “And a wonderful job you’re all doing of keeping it from them.”

“That’s not fair,” muttered Deggho. “Have you ever fought a centaur?”

“No, but apparently you haven’t either.”

Deggho frowned. “I’d really like to be friends, Magician,” he said softly. “You’re the only one who has come down here to talk to me in such a long time, and I’d like to be friends. You’re making that really hard.”

Raettonus shrugged. “I don’t really have it in me to make it easy,” he said.

“I can see that,” answered Deggho. He twitched and looked down. “I guess I’ll just have to try harder then. Just…just don’t stop coming down here, all right? I don’t know if I could stand it if you left and never came back. It’s so quiet and dark down here. Sometimes… Sometimes I start to wonder if I’m dead. The Book of Cykkus says that when we die we go to a place without any colors, but I think I’ll probably end up on this floor, all alone in the dark. That’s the scariest hell I can imagine. I’m so alone…”

“There aren’t any guards posted at any of the exits to this wing,” Raettonus pointed out. “What’s to stop you from simply leaving this area?”

“N-no,” said Deggho. “I’ve thought about it, but… Well, they’d just find me and bring me back down here. Or else they’d decide I was trouble and put me in the dungeons instead, or maybe a tower cell. I’m not sure whether a cell would be better or worse than this, actually. I have room to move here—so much room. Too much. There’s so much room that sometimes I feel like all the empty air is crushing me. I think about all these empty rooms, all in darkness, and I start to feel them weighing on me. And then I can’t breathe…”

He chuckled nervously. “That’s just…just me over-thinking everything though,” said the goblin. “I do a lot of thinking. You never really realize just how much thinking one can fit into a day until you have a whole day and no way to spend it but to think.”

“Try having a whole eternity,” Raettonus muttered.

“I’d rather not,” said Deggho. “It’s only been a few years, and it already feels like forever. I don’t have any windows, you know. We’re on the interior of the fortress here. Not a single window. Not even a vent hole that leads outside; they all just lead into other rooms. I haven’t seen the moon in years, or the sun either. There are still mountains outside, right? And an ocean?”

“Well, mostly,” said Raettonus. Deggho stared at him for a moment. “Of course the mountains and the ocean are still out there. I was joking.”

“Oh.” Relief showed on the goblin’s face. “I wasn’t certain and…well, at this point, if you told me the only part of Zylekkha that still existed at all was this fortress, I’d believe you. I start to wonder sometimes if I didn’t imagine everything I ever knew before this point. I mean, I think I was once the son of the chief of a tribe of goblins called the Kariss, but I don’t have any proof of that, except my name and my memories. But my memories get sketchier and sketchier every day—everything blends together. I’m not so sure what the difference is between my dreams and fantasies and memories and life are anymore. And my name… Maybe I just made up my name and then forgot I made it up. Maybe I’m not Deggho dek’Kariss. Maybe I’m Deggho sal-Kariss. Maybe I’m not a Kariss at all. Maybe I’m not even a goblin.”