Dirge for a Necromancer - By Ash Stinson Page 0,35
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