Dirge for a Necromancer - By Ash Stinson Page 0,17

said as they crossed the yard.

“That’s because it’s been completely irrelevant,” said the man, brushing a few strands of hair out of his eyes. “There’s never been any call for me to joust—ever. It’s not like anyone ever runs into a tavern all in a fright, looking for a last-minute jouster.”

“I would look for a last-minute jouster,” declared Brecan thoughtfully. Raettonus flicked him on the nose again. “Ouch!”

“Shut up, and no you wouldn’t,” he said.

“I wouldn’t? Oh…” He glanced around. “Hey, where’re we going, Raet?”

“I’m going to my room,” Raettonus said. “I don’t know where you’re going, quite honestly.”

“But, Raet, you said you were gonna come to dinner with the general.”

“And I will. But that’s not for an hour,” Raettonus said. He paused and glanced around. “Which way leads to our tower?”

The unicorn nodded his head toward an open archway. “You take that hall, and there’s a flight of stairs, and then a hall, and you go left down the hall to the second flight of stairs, and then you go left down the hall at the top of it, and then—”

“I think I can figure it out from there,” Raettonus said, starting purposefully away. Brecan made to follow him, but Raettonus waved him away. “I think I can also manage to get there without you.”

Brecan flattened his ears and sat back on his lion’s haunches. “But, Raet,” he began sadly.

“Why don’t you go play with your new pal, Daeblow, or whatever his name is?”

“Daeblau,” said Brecan as Raettonus left him. “A-all right…”

This time around, Raettonus managed to make it up to his chambers without losing his way, even though the citadel was as labyrinthine as ever. He entered the room, closing the door slowly behind him. Someone had lit his brazier while he was out, and the room was warm and filled with light and the smell of smoke. On his desk the obsidian gryphon glittered as Raettonus stared at it. He felt as though the bottom of his stomach was dropping clean out as he looked at it. “When you die,” the elf in the mask had said. “I’ll make sure you’re buried beside Slade the Black and Red.”

To Raettonus, that sounded like it could only be a threat.

He crossed the room slowly to the bookcase, keeping his eyes on the carved hunk of obsidian for a long while. After he finally tore his gaze away from the figure, it took him a couple minutes of looking to find the book he wanted—a large, black volume bound in the tanned flesh of a vampire. It was an old book that he had found in the ruins near Ti Tunfa many years prior. The words inside had been something he’d never seen before then—Zykyna, the language of gods. The language of the gods of the realm of Zylx, at any rate. Raettonus was sure other deities in other dimensions had their own languages.

Zykyna. There had been no easy way to learn to read the language and even now, after years spent in study, he was not fluent in that archaic tongue. No mortal was.

Portions of the book, happily, were written in the elven language of Taurkyna, which he knew just as well as he knew common Zylekkhan or even his own native English. He sat down on the bed with the book spread over his lap, looking at the yellowed pages with the faded ink upon them. When he found the book, he had taken it to a number of elven scholars to find out what exactly it was he had. He knew it was full of power—he knew because when he touched it he could feel it coming into him, turning his veins cold, making the hair on his arms and neck stand up—but he didn’t know from where the power came. None of the scholars could tell him that either, though one said she suspected the book was written five thousand years ago, shortly after the elves abandoned the Creator God to live their own lives. That was why it was written in both Taurkyna and Zykyna, she had told Raettonus—the elves had spoken both languages back then. That was why it had so many rituals and incantations meant to protect from the gods.

The elves had made their choice to live freely, and they feared divine retribution. Typical, Raettonus thought.

Slowly, Raettonus turned the pages. They were brittle and ragged at the edges, but they were still in good condition for a book so old. There were illustrations