Dirge for a Necromancer - By Ash Stinson Page 0,45
it necessary.”
Tarnished brass relief sculptures were set into most of the walls, almost all of them depicting Harkkan, the goblin god of war, and Kurok, the elven god of warriors. A few showed Kaeriaht, the centaur fire god, or Cykkus, the black-winged death god. Most of the sconces in the walls were without torches, and some had fallen down. Raettonus lit their way with a flame he summoned in one outstretched palm.
They came upon an ornate vault door Dohrleht thought might’ve been the tomb. Raettonus tried the door only to find it locked. “I don’t suppose either of you have a key?” he asked. The boys shook their heads. “Well, I guess I’m going to have to break the lock then. Hm.”
“I can open it,” Ebha said quietly. Raettonus looked her way, and she quickly turned her gaze down.
Raettonus stepped back from the door. “Be my guest,” he said.
She stepped up to the vault door, fishing a pin out of her bodice. Hunching over the lock, she stuck the pin in and maneuvered it around a little. With a hideous creak, the door swung lethargically inward, and Ebha stepped back away from it. “I suppose I should probably ask where you learned to pick locks?” Raettonus said to her, smirking a little. “I should think this is the sort of thing the general might want to know, hm?”
“My previous master taught me, Magician,” Ebha replied in barely a whisper.
Raettonus shoved open the door the rest of the way, and it protested with the rusty screeching of its hinges. A burst of hot, rancid air rushed to meet them, sending Maeleht into a minor coughing fit. Once his attack had been soothed, the party plunged into the dark chamber beyond.
It was a square room of no great size. At the far end, a sarcophagus sat beside the wall. On either side of the sarcophagus, corridors led into another room whose details were obscured by the intense darkness beyond the light of Raettonus’ flame. By the sarcophagus, something was moving back and forth, muttering to itself. It was hard to see the ghost in the flickering firelight, but as they drew closer, Raettonus could see that it was an enormous, broad-chested centaur, with arrows sticking out of his neck and back. “Gods protect us! Someone bring me my sword!” the ghost shouted, noticing them. “My sword! The goblins are all around us! Gods, be quick about it and bring me my sword!”
Maeleht watched Raettonus stare into what must have been only empty air for him before leaning forward. “Raettonus?” he asked timidly. “Is there a ghost here?”
Raettonus nodded. “Indeed there is,” he said.
“Gods, why are you just standing there?” yelled the ghost, rearing up. “The goblins will be on us at any moment! My sword! Bring me my sword! Bring me any sword! Gods above—why won’t anyone bring me a sword?”
“This is probably going to take a while,” Raettonus said. “You should probably sit, the both of you.”
Maeleht and Dohrleht sat on the ground uncertainly, and Raettonus sat cross-legged between them, facing the sarcophagus. The ghost watched them fearfully and begged for a sword but, seeing they wouldn’t answer him, finally gave it up for lost and began to pace back and forth, murmuring about goblins and asking where his sword could be. Ebha stood behind them in the doorway, watching without interest. Raettonus set his hands in his lap, cradling there the flame that was their only light.
“Look straight ahead,” he told the brothers. “And relax yourself. Relax your eyes until every thing goes blurry…”
He set about teaching them to see ghosts the same way Sir Slade had, so many centuries ago, taught him to see ghosts. It was difficult at first, but once you learned how there was no way to become blind to them. After a few hours of instruction and correction and yet more instruction, Maeleht was able to see vague spots of light whenever the ghost moved, and Dohrleht was beginning to be distinctly aware of where the ghost was in the room.
“My eyes are starting to hurt,” complained Maeleht.
Raettonus sighed and stood. “Then I suppose we’ll pick up again tomorrow with this,” he said. The centaurs slowly got up, which caused the ghost to stir again and look in their direction.
“Gods above,” said the ghost. “Won’t someone hand me my sword?” They made their way to the door as the ghost frantically circled in front of his sarcophagus. “Where are you going? Gods, don’t leave me