Dirge for a Necromancer (9 page)

Kimohr Raulinn looked at him, his yellow eyes glowing faintly. They were terrible and mesmerizing, those eyes; they were like the eyes of a mountain cat stalking prey in the night, or like a fire consuming the bones of warriors. Slowly, he got to his feet. Water dripped down his pale flesh and puddled in his footsteps as he stood there on the cool marble. “Dear, sweet child,” he said to Raettonus. “I have more power than you could possibly conceive of. All you need do is give me his body and pay my price, and I’ll crack down the gates of Hell to bring him back to you.”

Kimohr Raulinn reached out his hand. For a moment, Raettonus was still, contemplating it. Then, slowly—carefully—he grasped the god’s hand in his own. Why not? Raettonus figured. After all, I haven’t got a soul to lose, this time around.

Chapter Five

Raettonus was uncertain when he awoke whether he had dreamed a regular dream or whether he had actually spoken to Kimohr Raulinn. The three statues sat on his desk, the same as the night before. His conversation with the masked god by the reflective pool seemed so distant to him in the midmorning light that he could only wonder if it had happened at all.

When he gathered up his books and made his way to his students’ chamber for their lesson, he found that Maeleht had indeed shown up. He started their lesson with summoning elements, the same as he had the previous afternoon, using water and earth instead of fire. It went about the same as it had the day before for Dohrleht; he was able to create a tiny sphere of water for a couple seconds before his power drained and the water fell into his hand and onto the floor. Maeleht was able to create only a small pebble in his hand before he began to cough and had to take a rest.

They broke off learning about elemental summoning then, and Raettonus taught them about some herbs with magical properties. He named for them some of the healing herbs and the hex-breaking herbs and showed them the drawings of useful plants from one of his books. The brothers took notes on the herbs as he was lecturing. As Raettonus wrapped up their lessons, he told them, “I’ll expect you to know those off the top of your head.”

“Yes, Raettonus,” said the boys in unison as he left their room.

It was still light outside, so Raettonus made his way to the courtyard, where he found Brecan running laps with some of the soldiers. Spotting Raettonus, he changed course and galloped over to the man. “Raet!” exclaimed Brecan happily. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever! How’re your lessons going?”

Raettonus shrugged. “Fine,” he said. He nodded toward the soldiers taking laps. “I see you’ve been conscripted.”

“Oh, no,” said Brecan. “Nothing like that. I’ve just been out here training with them. They’re a lot of fun, these guys. I’m making a lot of friends.” He pointed with his nose toward a few of the soldiers. “That’s Reghahd, and there’s Toriika, and that’s Vyrah—he’s getting married whenever his fiancée can get herself down here to marry him—and there’s—”

“How nice for you,” Raettonus interrupted. “I wouldn’t think I’d have to tell you this, but I don’t care.”

“Oh. Right,” said Brecan. “I’m sorry, I should’ve known you wouldn’t.” He hung his head slightly and then suddenly seemed to change his mind and all at once his countenance brightened. “What’re you in the yard for, Raet? Is it for me? Did you come to see me?”

“As a matter of fact, I did,” Raettonus said. Brecan danced giddily, pawing at the ground with his fore hooves. “I’m feeling rather restless. Let’s go for a ride.”

“In the mountains?” Brecan asked.

“No, in the ocean. Yes, the mountains, you dullard.”

“Oh, all right,” said Brecan, stretching his wings forward and out of the way so Raettonus could mount him. They rode out of the courtyard, through the citadel. The guards let them out of the fortress without comment and then they were on the twisting, narrow path which had been carved through the Dragon’s Teeth Mountain Range.

The pair rode for a long while along cliffs and through valleys as the sun crept lower to the west. Raettonus gripped Brecan’s short mane loosely with one hand, resting the other on the unicorn’s neck as they rode leisurely through the mountains. Raettonus had first learned to ride on a saddle, but for years after that he mostly rode bareback behind his master up until he had gotten a horse of his own. It was comfortable for Raettonus—far more comfortable than a saddle had ever been to him. It reminded him of riding behind Sir Slade with his arms wrapped around the man’s middle as they surveyed his master’s lands.

“I had a dream last night that I spoke with Kimohr Raulinn,” Raettonus suddenly felt inclined to say.

“I had a dream that I had cherry tarts. Lots of them,” Brecan said happily. “But then I woke up and I didn’t have any tarts at all, cherry or otherwise. I was kinda sad about that.”

“He promised me he could make my master live again,” said Raettonus, not really listening to Brecan. “We shook on it.”

“And did he?”

“Hm?”

“Your master—did he live again?” Brecan asked.

“It was only a dream,” Raettonus said.

“But in the dream, did Kimohr Raulinn make your master live again?” the unicorn asked.

Raettonus shook his head. “No,” he said. “I woke up. It hadn’t happened, and my master wasn’t alive.”

“That’s kinda like my dream,” Brecan said. “When I woke up and there were no cherry tarts. But yours is worse. I’m sorry, Raet. You don’t talk about him much, but I know you really miss your master. What was his name—Slate?”

“Slade,” Raettonus answered, leaning forward as Brecan climbed a hill. “Sir Slade.”

“That’s a funny name. Sir. Oh, hey! Rhodes is a Sir, too.”

“It’s a title,” Raettonus said. “Master Slade and Rhodes were both knights. They squired together. I’ve explained knights to you before. You’d remember if you didn’t spend all your time thinking about food.”

“Oh, right, right,” said Brecan. “I remember that now. Knights. We don’t have them here, so sometimes I forget.”

“You forget because you’re stupid,” Raettonus said.

“Why did Kimohr Raulinn want to make Sir Slade live again?” asked Brecan.

Raettonus frowned. “I don’t know,” he said after a moment. “He just did.”

“Well, that was nice of him,” chirped Brecan. They reached a place where the cliff had crumbled and fallen away, destroying the path, and Brecan paused for a moment. “Should I fly over it, or do you think we should turn back?”

Raettonus turned his face west to where the sun was fast disappearing beyond the mountaintops. “Let’s go back,” he said. “I imagine you’ll want to get to Kaebha before your dinner gets cold.”

“I like dinner,” said Brecan with a nod, as he turned around.

The unicorn began to canter back along the path. From his back, Raettonus surveyed the cliffs and crags all around them. In the distance, he saw a band of goblins holding spears and hide shields, watching him and leaning in close to whisper to one another. Raettonus assumed them to be Kariss, though there was little overlap between how they were dressed and how Deggho dressed. As he thought of Deggho, he remembered the way Deggho had told him he was imagined in the Kariss’ tales. Raettonus couldn’t help but wonder if this group of goblins here, watching him so intently, knew who it was they were spying on now. In case they didn’t, he lifted one hand and bid fire fill it. This seemed to startle a couple younger goblins, and they turned and fled. The older ones watched him for a moment more before going after them.

The air was orange, tainted by twilight. It reminded Raettonus of an evening a long time ago when he had watched Slade betrayed by a friend; it reminded him of an evening not long after that when that friend paid a painful price for his betrayal. As Brecan rounded a narrow path that ran along a cliff’s edge, Raettonus noticed a form resting upon a mountaintop—a great cliff dragon, sitting with its face toward the west. Unlike other cliff dragons, it had enormous, feathered wings which were a dark stone gray in color. “It looks like we’ve found Guardian Nekkdan,” Raettonus observed.

Brecan followed the magician’s gaze to where he was looking, and his ears perked forward. “Oh, hey!” he exclaimed. “That is him, isn’t it? Hi, Guardian Nekkdan!” Brecan’s voice rang across the rocks, startling the birds in the valley below. The dragon turned his face toward them to see who had called him but expressed no particular interest in the pair beyond that. Brecan continued on his way, mumbling to Raettonus, “He sure is big, isn’t he?”

“He’s a dragon,” Raettonus said with a sigh. “You were expecting a poodle?”

“Poodle?” Brecan asked, flattening his ears. “What’s that? Is it food? Could I eat it?”

“No, it’s not food,” he answered. “But, yes, you could—and probably would.”

“I’m hungry,” Brecan complained. “Raet, can I just fly the rest of the way back? Do we have to keep walking?”

It didn’t matter to Raettonus either way, but he said, “Yes, you have to walk.”

“Oh,” Brecan said, his tail dragging on the ground. “All right, Raet.”

* * *

Returning to the citadel, they were greeted by Daeblau and a couple of soldiers who came to trot beside them. “Brecan, Magician!” said Daeblau warmly, lifting the visor on his helm. “We were just about to head to the dining hall. Will you be joining us?”

“Sure!” exclaimed Brecan as the posted guards opened the door for them.

“I’ll pass,” said Raettonus, dismounting from Brecan. He stretched and rubbed the backs of his thighs.

“Aw, but Raet,” said Brecan. “It’ll be fun!”

“Yes, Magician,” said Daeblau. “We’d be absolutely honored by your presence.”

Raettonus raised one eyebrow. “Yes, I’m sure you would,” he said dryly. “All the same, I’m afraid I must decline. I have reading I need to do.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Daeblau curtly. He turned and led the others away toward the dining hall. Glancing back at Raettonus, Brecan followed. Raettonus made his way to his room, mentally putting in order what he needed to do when he got there. He had to sort through the herbs he had brought with him to find the ones he wanted to bring to his lesson the next day and look through his books for a couple of spells he wanted to teach the boys…

He opened the door and stepped into his dark room. He made his way carefully through the darkness to his brazier and lit a fire within it. For a moment, he watched the flames flicker and swirl before he turned around to go to his bookshelf. The sight of Kimohr Raulinn sitting on the edge of his bed, watching him, made him jump and nearly stopped his heart. “Well, hello, Magician,” Kimohr Raulinn said as casually as if they had met each other on the street one day.

“What’re you doing here?” Raettonus asked, clutching his chest as he waited for his heartbeat to slow. “How did you get in here?”

“I’m just here to collect my tiny, inconsequential payment,” said the god with a shrug. “And also to get Sir Slade the Black and Red’s body, wherever it is. I’m going to need it to revive him, you see. Where is it?”

Raettonus rubbed the back of his neck. “I thought I’d dreamed that,” he muttered.

Beneath his mask, Kimohr Raulinn frowned. “You haven’t changed your mind, have you?” he asked.

“If you can still bring Master Slade back to life, then I haven’t,” Raettonus replied, leaning against his desk. He picked up the unicorn statuette and tossed it to Kimohr Raulinn. “There. Take that with you. I don’t want it.”

Kimohr Raulinn tucked it into a breast pocket on the inside of his robe. “Perhaps I’ll give it to Sir Rhodes when I’m done here,” he said. “I’m certain he’d appreciate my craftsmanship. Now, about my payment…”

Raettonus sighed. “What is it you want?” he asked the god.

Kimohr Raulinn leaned against one of the bedposts. “Did you know, Raettonus, that every god draws his powers from both his godly domain and a secondary source?” he asked. “The secondary source allows us to interact with our domain. It’s the true origin of our magic, you see. Without it, we cannot manipulate our domain. My secondary source is the emotional turmoil of mortals. I don’t gain much from that turmoil, however, unless I collect it.”

“And how do you do that?” asked Raettonus wearily.

“Two ways, chiefly,” said Kimohr Raulinn. “One of them is to kill the mortal or for them to be sacrificed in my name. The second—which I much prefer, since I am not, by any means, a violent or blood-loving man—is to bed them.”

“You have to be kidding me,” muttered Raettonus.

“I assure you, I am not,” Kimohr Raulinn said. “Those are the ways I can collect emotional chaos from mortals. I can see your emotional turmoil, Raettonus—it’s irresistible, really. You’ve lived such a long, miserable life enduring all kinds of failures and horrors. Why, is there any endeavor you’ve ever embarked on that you didn’t fail? The pain of it’s all around you. Your emotional chaos alone would give me enough energy to access the vast powers of my domain for years. You don’t much like me, I know, or trust me. Yes, I suppose I don’t deserve to be trusted. Still, I’m sure you’ll understand why this has to be the payment. After all, reversing death is not a small thing; all the energy I gain from your turmoil—which, mind you, would normally grant me power for years—will probably be spent by the time the process is through.”

Raettonus cocked his eyebrow. “Then why do it at all?” he asked. “If any power you might gain from fucking me will only be spent immediately in reviving Master Slade, why would you even want to bother with resurrecting him?”

Kimohr Raulinn chuckled. “I have my reasons,” he said softly. “They’re good reasons too. I cannot discuss them however. If my price makes you uncomfortable then I’ll leave, and we can forget we ever spoke, and Sir Slade can stay dea—”

“No,” said Raettonus quickly. “No, I’ll pay your price. It’s inconsequential, and I don’t mind. I’ll pay it.”

“There’s a good boy,” cooed Kimohr Raulinn. “I believe this is the first time in your entire adult life you haven’t been difficult and disagreeable. Here, I won’t bite. Not if you don’t want me to.”

Raettonus approached him cautiously, unbuckling his belt. “Fine,” he said. “But no kissing.”

“Oh, Magician,” said Kimohr Raulinn, taking him by the hand and pulling him toward the bed. “You know just how to wound me.”

Raettonus shrugged. “I know how to wound everyone,” he said indifferently. “I specialize in wounding people, really.”

“Mm, do you now?” asked Kimohr Raulinn as he pulled Raettonus down on top of him. He grabbed hold of Raettonus’ tunic and tugged it up over his head, revealing the magician’s firmly toned torso and all the little burn marks which dotted it. Tossing the dingy black tunic to the floor, Kimohr Raulinn leaned up and kissed Raettonus softly on the lips, mask pressing hard against his and chin.

“Hey, now,” Raettonus said as they broke apart. “What did I just tell you about that?”

“Mm, my apologies, Raettonus,” purred Kimohr Raulinn, resting one hand on Raettonus’ thigh. “I really just can’t help myself, I’m afraid.”