Dirge for a Necromancer - By Ash Stinson Page 0,46

here! The goblins—gods! Sword, give me my sword!”

Chapter Seven

Raettonus parted from the centaurs and Ebha on the third floor, telling them to meet him in the tomb the next day. From there he made his way to the abandoned wing of that same floor where Deggho dek’Kariss had free run. The chamber he entered through was filled with Deggho’s most recent paintings, many of which were of Raettonus himself. A few of the paintings, however, featured beautifully rendered landscapes from all over Zylekkha. Raettonus made his way through the room, toward Deggho’s bedchambers, hoping to find the goblin within. The room was empty, but the sheets were messed up as though Deggho had been sleeping there. Frowning, Raettonus ventured on toward the goblin’s study, hoping to catch him at his painting.

Deggho was working at a large canvas when Raettonus came in. “Magician!” said Deggho, getting to his feet. Raettonus motioned for him to sit as he unceremoniously plopped himself onto Deggho’s couch. Deggho reseated himself. “You haven’t called on me in five weeks. I was beginning to worry. Y-you shouldn’t do that. You know I get lonely down here, and that I worry. You shouldn’t leave me down here, not knowing what happened to you.”

Raettonus nodded toward the easel. “What’re you working on?”

“I’m almost finished with it,” said Deggho, turning the painting around toward Raettonus. “I call it ‘The Tragedy of Guardian Dokkdan’.”

The painting showed the unicorn guardian, Bregdan, running his long, golden horn through the breast of an elven woman while Dokkdan stood idly by. “Yes,” said Raettonus. “It’s tragic, all right. Dokkdan doesn’t quite look that way though. I met him once.”

Deggho bit his lower lip and turned the painting back around. “Doesn’t look right? Oh. Damn,” he muttered. “I’ll fix it, then, I guess… What did I do wrong?”

“The nose—it’s not as long as that. And his cheeks aren’t sunken in like that, either.”

“Oh. I see,” said Deggho, going back to his painting. “How have you been, Magician? You haven’t visited me in five weeks. That was…mean of you.”

Raettonus shrugged. “I’m visiting you now, so what’s the difference?” he said. “Would you rather I not come here at all?”

“No,” Deggho said quickly. “No, never mind. Please, don’t stop coming down here.”

“Well, all right, then,” said Raettonus. “That’s the proper attitude.” He stretched his legs out on the couch and smoothed the bottom of his tunic over his thighs. “Today I was teaching Tykkleht’s boys how to see ghosts, and I happened to be on this floor afterward, so I thought I’d come by.”

“Teaching them to see ghosts?” asked Deggho, furrowing his brow. “That’s something that can be taught?”

Raettonus nodded. “Certainly,” he said. “I mean, some people are born with it, but it’s easy enough to teach.”

“But, wouldn’t you need ghosts for that?” wondered Deggho. He straightened, and his eyes widened. “Does that mean there are ghosts here?”

“Well, not in this room,” said Raettonus. “We were in a tomb deep beneath the fortress.”

“There are tombs down there?” said Deggho, looking panicked. “Tombs? With corpses in them?”

“One would imagine, yes. I mean, they usually don’t fill tombs with goose down pillows.”

“R-right, of course not,” said Deggho. “That’d be silly…but soft. Very soft.” He paused. “So whose tomb is it? I didn’t think anyone was interred here; centaurs usually burn their dead.”

“It was some soldier,” Raettonus said. “Ah—the first general to serve here, I think. He kept rambling about goblins and asking for his sword.”

“Oh!” exclaimed Deggho. “I have a painting of him! I mean, I did a painting of him. Vormekk, that was his name—General Vormekk. The legends say he was a valiant man, but he had a soul made of iron. He rode his men too hard, and when goblins overran the only partially completed citadel he rushed to defend it, only to find he was without his sword. His mutinous soldiers barred the gates on him and watched from the battlements as a hundred Kariss—it had to have been Kariss—tore him to pieces. Afterward, the men were all tried and hanged for treason in Kinok Oron, and Vormekk was heralded as a great folk hero to the centaurs. His story has kind of fallen into obscurity, but I make it my business to know these things. Centaurs like paintings of centaur stories, so I learned a lot of centaur stories.”

“A hundred goblins? Unlikely,” said Raettonus raising one thin eyebrow. “It must’ve been twenty at the most. There’s no other way he could’ve protected the citadel. I mean,