Dirge for a Necromancer - By Ash Stinson Page 0,57
his attention. “We found him on our sweep through the citadel, General,” the soldier said.
“And who would you be?” Diahsis asked the goblin.
Deggho was looking upward at the starry sky. “I haven’t seen the moon in so long,” he murmured. “G-gods, it…it feels so good. Um—ah! S-sorry. I’m a little bit…a little bit shaken. Um, I’m Deggho dek’Kariss. Or, in common Zylekkhan, Deggho who leads the Kariss.”
“The Kariss?” asked Diahsis. “Who are they?”
“The goblin tribe that lives on this mountain,” Deggho said. “I’m the youngest son of their chief…was the youngest son. I don’t know now…”
Diahsis nodded. “So,” he said. “You must be a hostage, is that right?”
“Y-yes, that’s right,” Deggho said with a nod. “For…oh, for years now.”
Diahsis took him gently by the arm. “That must’ve been very hard for you, Deggho dek’Kariss,” he said. “Being away from your people all that time.”
“Y-yes, it was…it was hell, being trapped down there,” Deggho said, his ears drooping. “I didn’t have any windows, you see. They only gave me a few torches, too. It was so dark…”
“I imagine it was,” said Diahsis. “Deggho, could you do me a favor?”
“O-of course. What, uh, what would you like, General?”
“Could you kneel for me?” asked Diahsis.
“Kneel? Um, yes, I can do that,” Deggho said uncertainly. Slowly he got down. “Like this?”
“Almost,” said Diahsis. “But could you bend forward a little more? Double over?”
“Like this?”
“Yes. Exactly so,” said Diahsis. In one fluid movement, he drew his gladius and swung it downward. Its blade passed through Deggho’s thin neck with ease, sending his head rolling away. His body fell to the dirt, a dark spurt of blood spraying out where neck had once met skull. Diahsis motioned and the soldier recovered the goblin’s head. “Take that to the Kariss. The body too. Tell them the Zylekkhans killed him before we stormed the fort. Try to get them to join our cause against the Zylekkhans. If they don’t want to join us, slaughter them. Fifteen men should be enough; pick whomever you want to go with you. Ah, but try not to pick anyone who lost a good friend or a lover storming Kaebha. Those ones should be left to grieve.”
“Yes, General,” said the centaurian soldier. He scooped up Deggho’s frail body and hefted it over his back before loping away.
Wiping the blood from his sword, Diahsis turned back to Raettonus. “Sorry for the interruption,” he said. “Now, what were we talking about?”
“You didn’t have to do that,” Raettonus said. “The Kariss would’ve been just as grateful to you for freeing Deggho as they would be angry at the Zylekkhans for executing him.”
Diahsis smiled and slid his gladius back into its scabbard. “Anger is a far better motivator than gratitude, Magician,” he said. “How about you leave the military tactics to me, hm? I don’t tell you how to do…whatever it is you do.”
“Magic, General—I do magic.”
“Really? I don’t believe I’ve seen any evidence of that,” said Diahsis with a shrug. “I would think if you did magic, maybe you would’ve kept that wall up.”
“Yes, of course. Another time, then, Magician,” said Diahsis, frowning.
Raettonus shrugged noncommittally and skulked away across the yard, past a group of Zylekkhan soldiers who were reciting a prayer led by the citadel’s priest. In one dark corner of the courtyard, Maeleht was alone, leaning against the wall. His face was red with tears, and he was shaking. Noticing Raettonus’ approach, he quickly turned away to hide the fact that he’d been crying. “H-hello, Raettonus,” he said in a strained voice as he faced the wall.
“I’m sorry about your father,” Raettonus told him uncomfortably.
“Th-thanks,” said Maeleht. After a moment’s hesitation, he turned to look at the magician. “He…he didn’t deserve to die like that. He should’ve died in battle. That’s how he w-would have wanted to go. He should have… He—he would’ve, if…”
“If what?” asked Raettonus. Some of the branches in the pyre broke, and the whole thing shifted, sending sparks high into the air.
“If Dohrleht hadn’t poisoned him,” Maeleht said in a tiny, scared voice.
Raettonus raised his eyebrows. “You knew about that?” he asked, only half interested.
“I suspected,” said the young centaur. “Father got sick so suddenly. You taught us about some poisons, don’t you remember? You showed us all those vials… So when he got sick, I thought… It’s true, isn’t it?”