Birth of a Necromancer 045

The door to Ash’s cabin was slammed open and in the doorway stood a nervous-looking, young man with a piece of neatly sealed piece of paper in his hand.

“Great Emissary, we’ve gotten a message from a neighboring village!” he shouted, causing the young elf to spill his alcohol everywhere.

“At least knock, God dammit!”

He began wiping rum off of his freshly stained clothes. “Now that you’ve gone and and ruined my robe, you might as well hand me the letter.” The young elf stretched out his hand. “Give it here.”

“S-sorry!” the villager shouted back, with a voice as stiff as his posture, “I’ll just p—put it here,” he whispered, laying the letter on Ash’s desk before walking out the room with stiff movements.

The necromancer picked up the sealed piece of paper with one hand, sucking on each of the other hand’s rum-covered fingers. Clumsily breaking the seal, he unfolded the letter and began reading.

 

Great Emissary,
 

I, Countess Eerika, first of my name, would like to be the first to formally welcome you to the Northern Realms. 

It gives me great pleasure to see that you have not only made it here safely, but also spread the word of our gods.

However, I must regretfully inform you that the earth on which you tread and on which your village is settled, is mine by right. I find myself unable to fathom how someone as enlightened as yourself can put on such a show of disregard toward that which is mine. And as such find myself in a dilemma, that I very much hope we can work together to eliminate.

I have no wish to imprison you, as that would neither provide either us with a desirable outcome, nor would it fulfill my desire to be on good terms with you, as anything else would be an act of sacrilege. Therefore, I would like you, Great Emissary, to treat this as a formal invitation to pay my estate a visit. Ask any one member of your tribe; they will know the way.

With wishes for a profitable relationship,

-          Eerika, Queen Regent of Nefar

 

Ash rubbed his eyes. He had but the light of a single candle to illuminate the cabin, which made reading difficult. To add to this,his eyes were still getting used to light in general, after having been subject to nothing but the impenetrable darkness of the void a few nights ago.

Something irked him immensely about that last line of the letter. 

“Nefar, huh—not hard to guess who she worships,” the necromancer mumbled.

He pulled the candle closer to himself, making sure he hadn’t misread anything. He hadn’t.

“Why do I need to deal with entitled fucks all the time?!” he screamed and slammed his fist on his desk.

The young elf stood up, kicking his stool into the back wall, before quickly making his way to the door in the other end of the cabin. He opened it, and was greeted by the sunlight he’d been advised to stay away from.

Outside, two undead guards stood on each side of the door, that directly connected with a newly-constructed wooden pier which the ship had cast anchor by. They began to follow after him, the moment he passed them. He stopped to look at them, “No, stay,” he commanded.

Just as instructed, the two skeletal minions stopped following him and stood, frozen.

“Zennereth,” he called out, as soon as he sat foot on the mainland. “You”—he pointed at a random villager—“where’s Zennereth?”

“Sorry, Great Emissary, I don’t—”

“Forget it. I’ll find him myself,” the young elf cut her off and left.

He was picking up his pace when a sharp, throbbing pain started coming from just above his left eye. Ash called out a few more times, still with no reply from the lich. He kept getting strange, yet respectful, looks from passerby on the street. The young elf couldn’t help but wonder what, aside from starting a town, Evitagen had been up to, that warranted Ash so many gazes of reverence.

Rapidly nearing the edge of town, the necromancer started sprinting. He could hear the wind blowing in the trees just outside the village, and couldn’t wait to be greeted by the leaves’ shade. His bare ankles that stuck out of his skimpy shoes, not so much.

Ash passed the village’s last hut before the snow-covered forest.. He still felt strangely drawn to something in the forest, but for now the focus was on finding Zennereth. The letter from that Eerika character needed their full, undivided attention. Recreational activities would need to be put off until after the situation was resolved.

The elf sighed.

‘Fuck this,’ his inner voice said as the running got harder in the  knee-deep snow. His sandal-like shoes were getting stuck in the whiteness.

Being from a hot country, the young elf had never seen snow before in his life, yet he wasn’t feeling excited at the sight of it, or even the chance to walk in it. It was just annoying, the way it encased his feet and chilled him to the bone.

Eventually, Ash was a good bit outside the town and had a partial view of the area surrounding him. He was standing just outside the forest, which was located atop a small hill. He could finally see the lich, who had just appeared behind a formation of rocks by the shoreline.

“Zennereth!” he bellowed.

The lich was enveloped in some sort of red mist that made its master hesitant to approach it, until he realized it wasn’t actually coming from the lich. It was coming from a large, gray bird that was sitting on Zennereth’s shoulder.

“Master… Pardon my sudden leave. What is it?” he asked with his quiet, yet omnipresent voice.

“We’ve gotten a let—who’s that?” the necromancer asked, eyes following the villager walking behind the lich.

Zennereth briefly looked at the villager, who was completely frozen with surprise at the sight of the necromancer. The lich shrugged.  “Ah, this is… Hans. He will be assisting me in my… research.”

“Is he trustworthy?”

“Yes, sir, Great Emissary!” he eagerly shouted back, and started running after the lich, who’d never stopped walking toward Ash.

“Good,” the necromancer began and moved his gaze to Hans, who was doing his best to avoid his eyes. “Hans, do you know the way to Nefar?”

“Yes! I know the way to Frostborg.”

Ash nodded, seemingly satisfied with the reply.

“You and Zennereth are gonna be going to Frostberg—how do you pronounce that? Anyway, you’re coming there with me."

The lich and the villager nodded, both seemingly excited, although one of them was better at hiding it than the other.

“On what… occasion are we going… there?”

Ash snapped his fingers and pulled out the letter from the Countess, unfolded it, and handed it to Zennereth, who studied it with great interest. He read it in silence and grew visibly uncomfortable as he read on.

“I did not know… we had settled inside a… kingdom,” he said.

“Neither did I, but who gives a flying fuck. If there’s a way around the issue, I’ll gladly take it” the elf nonchalantly replied.

“Umm,” Hans chimed in, “You probably want to be careful with the Countess. I’ve never seen her, but her men follow her with unwavering resolve. It’s really scary.”

The lich and its master stopped bickering over the letter and looked at the timid, young villager who suddenly looked a little frightened at the thought of having to visit the woman whose rule he’d probably been living under for years.

Ash put a hand on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to worry. Me and Zennereth will be—”

“Zennereth and I,” the lich whisperingly interrupted, earning a mean glare from the necromancer. “Sorry, carry on.”

“Zennereth and I”—the young elf didn’t take his cold eyes off the lich—“will be doing the talking. You just have to worry about leading the way.”

“But—”

“No buts. Only dos. Now follow me back to the ship.”

With those words, the necromancer gestured for his two subjects to follow him back to their village. The lich instantly started following him, with the assistant trailing behind him shortly after. They walked in silence, with only the strained sounds of snow being trod on and the half-frozen water’s waves to accompany them on their short journey back to town.

Ash and Zenneth  attracted a great deal of looks when they stepped into the plaza, but not nearly as many curious gazes as Hans, who seemed like he didn’t know what to do with all the attention. He just followed along, like a puppy behind his black-robed master.

“Hans certainly seems to be moving up,” one said, “He should know his place,” others whispered. There were also those who just watched the watched them walk by, some nodding in acknowledgement and others shaking their heads.

After enduring the curious stares and inquisitive whispers, they had passed through the village plaza and could say they were relatively alone. They were quite close to the newly-constructed pier; Ash could already feel the peace and quiet, even though there were still a few meters to go.

“What exactly do you expect the Countess will want from you?” Hans asked, seemingly fed up with the quiet.

“Insolent boy… you do not speak to—”

Ash raised his hand to stop the lich’s outburst.

“It’s fine, Zennereth. I can speak for myself, thank you very much,” the young elf calmly said, though not without a slight bit of annoyance, “Hans, was it?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Alright, Hans. You see,” he ground to a halt just in front of the pier, “I don’t know this Countess of yours. I’ve heard she holds a bit of power here in The North, so I’m hoping I can establish good relations with her.”

He looked Hans right in the eyes.

“However, if I can’t bring her to see my side of things, I will do what I’ve done to any obstruction in my way,” he whispered, voice dripping with poison, while making a slashing sign across his throat.

Then he walked the last bit of the way to his ship, leaving both Zennereth and Hans a bit stunned at the destructive nature of their master.

“Do you think he even has a chance against—”

“Shut up and follow me,” the lich said with an uncharacteristic curtness in his voice. “Dominus, keep watch. No-one goes in… without me knowing,” he finished and left Hans pondering whether or not he had found himself in bad company.

 

Chapter end