Dirge for a Necromancer - By Ash Stinson Page 0,36

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