Dirge for a Necromancer - By Ash Stinson Page 0,112

around the shaft by its chain. His enormous black wings were spread out behind him like a cape made of leather. Light seemed to die around him, as if afraid to brush his sleek, steel casing.

“There is something unnatural here,” said Cykkus. He didn’t speak particularly loudly, but his voice echoed across them all the same. “You’re trying to keep it from me, and for that I ought to strike all of you down. If you hand it over to me, however, I’ll leave, and there need be no more casualties.”

Raettonus had always spoken bluntly. He had never feared to say whatever he wanted to any man, no matter how much larger, stronger, or higher-up that man had been. For once, however, words would not come.

He looked at Cykkus, and he was afraid.

Knees shaking, heart racing, bowels tying themselves all in knots.

Raettonus found his throat dry and tried to swallow, but managed only to make a small, choked sound. At some point, Diahsis had moved beside him and was gripping his arm tightly. For all of the general’s talk of going out brave, all his romantically suicidal notions of dying in some grand and glorious battle and being sung about, Raettonus knew that he suddenly wanted to live, as well.

Cykkus watched them with his molten gaze for a stretch of time, which might have been eons but for the fact, the sun didn’t rise and set while they stood there. Then he turned just his face—if it could be called a face—toward Brecan. “Where is it? Bring it to me,” he demanded.

“I—I can’t d-do that,” said Brecan, shrinking away from the god’s look.

“Where will you go when you die, Brecan of the forest, son of Bregdan?” asked Cykkus. “You won’t go to Hell, because, as I can see from those unnatural pale eyes of yours, you haven’t got a soul. When you die, you’ll simply cease to exist, as if you had never been to begin with. Do you want to disappear forever?”

“N-no,” said Brecan.

“Then you should fetch what I’m here for,” Cykkus told him, narrowing his eyes. He moved his axe up ever so slightly to make his point clear, and the pocket watch rattled against his gauntlet and kept on ticking. “You’ve killed many of my abassy. But I am no abassy. The merest brush of my hand will snuff you out immediately, Brecan of the forest. Bring me this unnatural thing or you will die.”

The unicorn hesitated for the barest wisp of a moment before he squared himself up and flattened his ears back against his skull. He bared his yellowed fangs and flicked his arrow-tipped tail. “No,” he said firmly, though there was terror in his eyes.

The death god scoffed—a quiet sound from deep in his throat that rang metallically as it came out of his helm. He turned his fierce red gaze on Diahsis. “How about you, Diahsis of Fybuk, son of Vaeminn Vohrtahl? Your life is precious to you, isn’t it? You enjoy living, after all, don’t you? Food, drink, music, hunting, sports, sex—these things are precious to you, aren’t they? These are things a corpse cannot partake of, Diahsis of Fybuk. Do you wish to die here?”

Weakly, Diahsis smiled and said, “Lord Cykkus, I am dead no matter what I do here. Either you kill me or Raettonus does.” Diahsis glanced down at Raettonus griping his arm. “And honestly, I feel the magician will end me far more painfully. No disrespect, my lord, but I’m with Raettonus to the end.”

“Is that how it is, Diahsis of Fybuk?” asked Cykkus. He narrowed his searing red eyes to little slits. “I am a god. To deny me is blasphemy. Perhaps your death will be less painful at my hands than at his, but what of your afterlife, Diahsis of Fybuk? Will you find relief in an eternity where you are chained to a rock to be tortured by the horrors of Hell?”

Diahsis took a deep breath. “No, I won’t, my lord,” he said. “But I have made my choice, and I will stand by it. I am for Raettonus. Kill me, chain me to a rock in Hell—my mind will not change.”

Cykkus turned back to Raettonus. “Your allies are foolishly loyal,” he said. The god let out a small sigh. “Please, give it up. There need be no more deaths but one. Do not force me to slaughter these soldiers to the last man.”

“I’m not giving Sir Slade up to you,” Raettonus told him. “Go