Dirge for a Necromancer - By Ash Stinson Page 0,43
do it, but every day I spend down here, I start believing a little more that yes, I might. If you don’t come back, I’m afraid, Raettonus—I’m afraid I’m going to hurt myself.” Raettonus didn’t answer. For a long while, Deggho stared at him pleadingly.
“We’ll see,” said Raettonus, untouched.
“Please come back,” Deggho said in a tiny, scared voice. “When I’m all alone, I start to wonder if I even exist at all. It’s a nightmare, Raettonus. I start to wonder if I exist, and I start to wonder if it’d be better to die, that way I’ll know for sure if I was ever even alive. You’ll come back, won’t you?”
“We’ll see,” Raettonus said again, and he left the goblin behind to retire to his chamber.
* * *
All night, the citadel rang with the sound of sword practice in the courtyard and of soldiers tramping through the halls. Somewhere in the hall outside Raettonus’ room a clock ticked solemnly on. Between the constant sounds and his strange nightmares, Raettonus couldn’t manage to get any quality sleep. When he groggily awoke the next morning, the sounds were still going strong as Kaebha Citadel buzzed with war.
Raettonus had dreamed a strange dream. He could only remember it in pieces—just the barest bones of what had occurred—and for a long time he lay still on his bed trying to pull the fragmented images into something coherent.
It had been gray. Everything had been desolate and cold and gray. There had been rocks—it had been outside somewhere—but there were no trees, no sun, no moon, no wind, no sky. Just a rocky void, all in gray. Gray save for a single figure clad in white, crossing the expanse all alone.
Rocks. There had been enormous, massive, monstrous rocks. Gray stone monoliths that towered tens of feet above the ground. They jutted up from the earth like arrows jutting out of cooling flesh.
Something was important about these rocks. Raettonus closed his eyes and tried very hard to remember…
There were men. There were men chained to the rocks. Chained like Prometheus, arms stretched wide. They screamed. They wouldn’t stop screaming. The figure in white paid them no mind. They weren’t the ones he wanted. The dozens of Prometheuses screamed and screamed and were ignored.
Was there more to it? He felt as though he was missing something, but hard as he tried, he couldn’t dredge up any more of the dream. With a frustrated sigh, Raettonus opened his eyes and scowled at the ceiling.
Getting out of bed, he stepped on something cold and hard. With a hiss, he withdrew his foot and looked down to find the carved unicorn lying on the floor. He picked it up, figuring it must’ve slipped out of Kimohr Raulinn’s robe when he’d undressed. “Just as well,” murmured Raettonus, setting it on his desk. “I can give it back to Rhodes when we return to Ti Tunfa. Maybe as a lark, I’ll show it to him and then smash it into a thousand pieces. That’d be a good way to liven up a slow afternoon.”
He smirked to himself and got dressed.
* * *
For months afterward, tension filled the citadel. Day and night, the soldiers practiced and walked the walls. The Tahlehson host huddled at a safe distance, shielded by the natural curves of the mountain, as they painstakingly worked to harvest timber in order to prepare a covered ram and some catapults. It was a tedious, long process, however, since the only trees were miles away and had to be hauled along the treacherous roads to their campsite.
Raettonus went on teaching his lessons as though nothing were happening. Indeed, to him it was just as though nothing were. By the time a year had passed, his students had gotten measurably better at summoning elements. Maeleht had his best luck summoning stone, while Dohrleht’s talent seemed to be in wind. Neither one was a natural at magic, to Raettonus’ disappointment; that meant he had to work that much harder with them. Being a natural at pyromancy, it was difficult for him to deal with the problems they had most times. However, they were getting better, even if Raettonus often found them frustrating to teach. Dohrleht was becoming particularly skilled, while Maeleht was still so troubled by his coughing fits and fainting spells that it was impossible for him to get any decent amount of practice in all at once.
It was a cold winter afternoon when Raettonus decided to teach them more about necromancy.