Birth of a Necromancer 050

“What a moderate choice. May I ask what impacted your decision?”

Eerika was sitting with her chin resting on her folded hands. Her expression was one of profound interest.

“Yes. I’ve decided to choose lordship over your hand in marriage, simply because I don’t feel worthy of a woman such as yourself,” came Ash’s well-rehearsed reply.

The two of them were sitting across from each other in the Countess’s conference room—a large, oval-shaped room made completely of white marble. However, despite its size and shape, there was no echo.

‘So she has magicians too, huh…’

Truth be told, Ash couldn’t care less about what the Countess had to say about his decision. The sole reason he’d come to her capital was because of their silly territorial dispute. Because of that, he had time to wonder about what kind of person he was sitting across from; about what kind of person it would take to drag her from her throne. Needless to say, the young elf was paying very little attention to the words of his host.

“I should like to think I’m the first woman to be happy to be turned down by the man she proposed to. In doing this, you’ve shown me that you understand the predicament I find myself in when it comes to dealing with you. The citizens of Nefar love the gods, and since you’re so closely connected to them, they will come to love you as well. It’s splendid to see that you’ve understood that it has to be clear who controls what—we’re defining that by awarding you lands within which I will not attempt to interfere in your affairs. In turn, I expect you to vouch for me, should my claim to the throne of Nefar ever come into question.”

“Of course. You can count of my help,”  Ash replied, inadvertently smirking.

“I suppose you’re not interested in formalities. They wouldn’t mean anything either, since you’re a newcomer. If I was in your place, I would likely not care to get too deeply involved in the politics of this country. Seeing as you’re as good as the physical embodiment of the gods’ will, I should like to think you have your sights on a grander prize.”

“Ah, you’ve seen completely through me.”

‘Well, partially so.’

“But before you go, there are some things you need to know about this country. Rather, how the lords of the realm must act—your duties, if you will.”

Ash listened with a bit more attentiveness. He supposed this was the only part of the conversation that was actually worth something to him.

“The North is a continent with a rather unique topography. Stand at the peak of the tallest mountain and you will see nothing but more mountain ranges and the occasional forest, only ever interrupted by one thing...”

The Countess procured a map from a drawer underneath the marble table they were sitting at. From what Ash could see, it was a detailed map of The North with a very noticeable blank spot in the middle, much unlike the other uncharted areas, that were scattered around the map.

“What’s that?” Ash asked, sporting carefully feigned curiosity in an upbeat voice.

“Why I’m glad you noticed. It’s a piece of land that has remained unclaimable for as long as anyone, who live here, have memory of. No-one who’s gone to map that area has lived to turn over the results, regardless of the number or strength of people that have been sent.”

“So, this piece of land is up for grabs, is what you’re saying?”

The newly-appointed lord leaned forward to get a clearer look of the yellowed parchment.

“Unfortunately, my lord, that’s a very naíve way of looking at it. You see, while we do not exactly know what the situation is in these uncharted lands, we do know that it is where the monsters come from. Whatever is hiding there is some sort of evil that seemingly claims the souls of anyone that sees it.”

Ash placed a finger on the map, and looked up at the Countess as if to ask if he could borrow the map. Eerika nodded, so the elf promptly slid the map to his side of the table and proceeded to study it a bit more carefully. He could see what appeared to be a bit of still-wet ink in the southernmost end of the Countess’s territory. It was marked with the words “Emissary’s Domain”. It wasn’t as big or impressive as any of the other lords’ territories, but it was his own. Ash could appreciate that. Having spent most of his life a slave, just the fact that he now, finally, owned something—could call himself a ruler—was enough to fill his heart with a sense of surrealism. He let his eyes slide a bit further towards the center of the yellow and black piece of paper. He could a depiction of a mountain range with a few gaps that were small and far in between, encircling the uncharted territory. One of said gaps was almost directly connected to a path that ran through the forest outside the village of The Nordmaend.

‘Is that piece of land what I’ve felt so drawn to? Seems like going there will take some planning, though.”

“Countess, before I go and make lofty promises to you, I need to know something; do you keep records of monsters that you’ve encountered within your territory?”

“I have to say, I do not.”

‘Shi—’

“—but I’m sure The Adventurers’ Guild has something along those lines.”

Ash had to process those words for a few seconds. He was painfully familiar with The Adventurers’ Guild, but he had previously thought it was an organization that was exclusively based in Kanburrough. Adventurers were that country’s main export, after all.

“I’m sure you’re aware that I’m from Kanburrough, my lady. For that reason, I’m sure you can understand my confusion at why my homeland’s highly sought-after wares are doing within your borders.”

The Countess laughed dryly.

“You don’t honestly think you’re the first migrant from the south, do you?”

“Of course not,” Ash hastily replied, trying his best to mask his surprise at the Countess’s straightforwardness.

“Good. See, every year, we welcome hundreds of people coming from all corners of the world. Each and every one of them wash up on our shores with just about the same sentiment—a sense of having accomplished all there is to accomplish. As you know, most countries’ monsters are not even comparable to the weakest beasts you will undoubtedly stumble upon here. For that reason they travel here, with the desire to either test their mettle against equally powerful people, or band together in organizations to slay the strongest monsters and claim new land for themselves. The Adventurers’ Guild is simply another one of these organizations. One that I am very grateful to have based in my country, and include in my army. That is, after all, the founding principle of all nations around here; might means right.”

Eerika chuckled a bit.

“But, as you might’ve guessed, I’m a bit different. I inherited this country from my father, who came here from The Empire. The only reason I’m able to hold onto the throne is due to the people’s deeply-rooted respect for my father’s bloodline.”

The two of them looked each other in the eyes for a while. The human and the elf; the Countess and the Emissary; the master and the servant.

“Tell me, my lady, what do I stand to gain from claiming this?” he asked, and once again put his finger on the blank space.

“Well, let’s have the conquest serve as your proving grounds. Should you succeed in tearing it from the dead hands of whatever vile creatures have set up camp in it, I’ll let you govern the newly conquered land, and your current land, with relative autonomy.”

Ash snapped his fingers.

“One more thing! I have no idea about how one goes about governing land. Will you supply me with a subordinate who can perform most micromanagement tasks within my territory? I’d rather avoid having to go through the tedious process of learning anything outside the most rudimentary governance-related skills.”

“Of course—once you’ve given me what you’ve promised me.”

“Then that’ll be all. Where can I find this guild?”

The Countess shrugged, and said, “That elf you captured should know,” before standing up with her hand—one with a big ring with a gemstone imbedded in it—extended towards her elven subordinate.

‘Oh, she’s gonna make me do that, huh.’

Knowing what was expected of him, Ash got down on one knee, grabbed her hand, and kissed the gemstone on the ring. This was common practice among nobles; the necromancer had seen this on multiple occasions, although he couldn’t remember where exactly he had seen it.

He could hear the Countess saying something, but the young elf wasn’t listening. He was busy wondering why in the world he was finding himself forgetting things so frequently, recently. Plus, he was pretty sure what was being said—some trivial phrase like, “Do you swear fealty to me,”—so the elf just replied with a plain “Yes.”

“You may rise,” his new mistress replied.

“Thank you, milady.”

“You may leave now.”

“Thank you, milady.”

Ash swiftly turned around on his heel, still bothered by his forgetfulness. Frankly, it was scaring him and it made him wonder if the fact that there were some things he could only vaguely remember meant that there were also things he had completely forgotten.

‘I’m gonna have to start a journal,’ he thought to himself, as two guards, who had been standing by at the room’s exit, opened the door that led to the hallway outside.

Outside, he was greeted by the cold aura that always hung around Zennereth, who had been standing outside the conference room for the duration of their conversation.

“How did it go?” the lich asked, the moment the door closed behind his master.

“We got what we came for, and”—Ash held up the map the Countess had lent him—“we might stand to gain even more.”

While the two of them walked back to the room where they held the elf Ash had captured, the necromancer told his servant all about their situation and the opportunity they had been presented with. Zennereth seemed to grow more and more excited with each word that left his master’s lips, truly showing his scholar’s mindset.

“There you are!” Hans shouted, the moment the motley pair reached the hallway that housed the room they were headed to.

The timid young man had a tired, and slightly annoyed, look on his face as he greeted his two superiors.

“That kid is driving me crazy,” he continued, with an annoyed nod toward the wooden door behind him. “I would really rather avoid having to translate what he’s saying. What can he even tell you, anyway?”

“Shut up… and do as you’re told,” Zennereth sighed, lowering the temperature around him by a few degrees.

After a lot of additional complaining, and bickering with the lich, Hans opened the door to the makeshift holding cell they’d made for the elf, whose name Ash had been told was Khaya.

The moment the odd group of three stepped into the neat study they were greeted by Khaya, who greeted his captors with the only cross-lingual gesture he appeared to know—a polite bow to Ash and Zennereth, followed by a nod to Hans, who replied with words that neither Ash nor his undead servant could understand.

Khaya replied with a sentence of his own. One that seemingly contained some sort of extravagant profanity, as shown by the translator’s increasingly disgruntled expression.

“He says hi and asks what you want from him,” was the lazy translation Hans ended up rattling off.

“Right, did you tell him that we’ve informed his owner of his whereabouts?” Ash asked.

“I did.”

“Good. Then, would you please extend my deepest apologies for bringing him here like this, and for acting out against him like I did earlier?”

Hans did as he was told, and it was evident on Khaya’s face that the message was indeed conveyed correctly. The elf nodded, and said something along the lines of “I get it,” because Hans suddenly stopped looking annoyed.

“Great, he says he understands and that he hasn’t been—or will start—spreading rumors. Does that sound good to you two?” the Northerner asked his superiors.

Zennereth nodded.

“Yes. Has he… eaten yet?”

“Nope, he’s been staying in here waiting for the master to give him the green flag.”

“Well,” said Ash, “go get him some food, then. Meet Zennereth and I at The Guild in an hour.”

“Wait—do I really have to feed this guy? And I don’t know where that is!”                              

“You’ll figure it out,” came the uncaring reply.

It didn’t take very long to find The Adventurers’ Guild. Even though the Countess hadn’t told the necromancer where to find it, everyone in town seemed to know where it was. After having asked a few people for directions, Ash and the lich easily found their way to an inn, on the lower level of Frostborg, that matched the description given by the passersby they’d asked.

Zennereth pushed open the door, and held it open for his master as befitting of a servant, who entered with a slight bit of hesitance.

Various smells—vexing stenches and dazzling fragrances—immediately filled Ash’s nostrils, while the clamor of the inn’s visitors arguing hammered at the elf’s eardrums with thunderous might. The sounds of mugs being slammed together in celebration of the day’s earnings, or the elimination of a big monster. Just like with the crowd back in Elcrada, Ash quickly identified that a similar ranking system was used to measure people’s strength. Various metal plates hung around the necks of each adventurer, establishing a clear hierarchy amongst them.

The necromancer was hit with a strong sense of nostalgia, though not a particularly positive kind. In fact, the sense of affluent comradery in the dining hall repulsed him to the point where he had to strain himself to repress the urge to gag. He could see his former self in the eyes of everyone in the room—on top of the word; bodies in top condition.

He caressed the scars on his chest and abdomen, specifically the one where Robinia’s rapier had once penetrated his heart; the heart that now pumped black sewage, as substitute for blood, around his veins.

“Are you alright… master?” Zennereth inquired.

Ash nodded and pointed at a desk in the far end of the room, where a long line of adventurers were waiting their turn to receive a quest or sign up with The Guild.

“Let’s go there. I need some records of what kind of monsters have been encountered by adventurers around here. If this version of The Guild is anything like the one in Kanburrough, adventurers will go to great lengths to obtain information on monsters and sell it to the guild for quite a hefty sum of money. This way, the guild is able to categorize monsters into various threat-levels and give rewards based on how dangerous said monsters are. Oh”—Ash stopped himself—“I ended up rambling. Sorry.”

The elf looked a bit flustered, as he placed himself at the back of the queue. He pulled up his hood for good measure.

“There is no need to be… embarrassed. It is only through many years of practice that I have been able to… bury my desire to lecture everyone I know about everything I know,” the lich said, and scratched his head which still remained covered by his hood.

After all… it wouldn’t be good for a lich to show its face in the middle of The Guild.

A while passed, and the line slowly shortened until it was Ash and Zennereth who stood in front of the desk faced with an old man, with an impressive, gray beard.

He started speaking in northern tongues but quickly realized that his two guests weren’t understanding him, so he quickly switched to the southern language Ash knew.

“Ah, sorry ‘bout that. Welcome to The Adventurers’ Guild. What can I do for you?”

“Hi,” began Ash, “we’d like to purchase all the information on the monsters of The North, if you have them for sale.”

The elderly clerk burst into laughter.

“That’s rich, coming from someone who isn’t even registered with us in the first place. I’m sorry, but I can’t sell you the information.”

“Now hold on just a minute!” Zennereth shouted, probably expecting it to have an impact on the room’s atmosphere. However, if that was his intent, he would have to count himself sorely disappointed.

Someone cleared their throat loudly behind the elf and the lich, the former of which turned around as if possessed by feisty imps—startled.

Khaya was the one who had made the sound, and behind him stood Hans with a hand on the elf’s shoulder and an apologetic look on his face.

Ash stared Hans down, with a disappointed look in his eyes, as if to say “You had one job.”

The northerner shrugged.

“Let him talk to the innkeeper.”—Hans nodded towards the elven slave—“He told me that if we want anything from the innkeeper, here, we can get it through him.”

The necromancer rested his gaze on the slave before him. Now that there were a few people putting on airs in the dining hall, a lot of people were staring at the scene as it unfolded before their eyes. Ash noticed this, and decided to mellow the look in his eyes a bit.

“Tell him to go sort out a price for this place’s most comprehensive bestiary, Hans.”

Being the high-quality translator, that he was, the northerner did as he was told—albeit it with a supremely unhappy look on his otherwise usually joyful face.

‘I’d love to be able to understand the banter they’re having behind my back,’ the young elf thought to himself, as he watched the elven slave walk up to the counter and initiate a conversation with the elderly innkeeper.

Many minutes passed, as their conversation dragged out.

Ash’s eyes were darting from Hans to Khaya and from Khaya to Hans, over and over and over. It was extremely frustrating to simply watch and listen as the innkeeper and his elven friend had a bit of back and forth between each other, triggering many a laugh amongst the listeners around the room.

But, after a lot of painful watch-time, Khaya roughly gestured for Ash to follow him out into a room in the back. 

The two elves and the innkeeper walked in silence, until they reached a cramped study that, for a commoner’s establishment, was quite respectable to look at. Ash had to give it to the old man, he knew how to hoard literature.

All around the three of them towered massive bookshelves, each packed with hundreds of books and scrolls.

Since the newly-appointed lord wasn’t from the country, he had no idea what was written on most of the book covers—only a few of them were written in his native language—but he could tell that they were mostly all records of adventurers that frequented The Adventurers’ Guild.

The old innkeeper pulled out an extendable ladder from a closet, and Khaya helped him set it up by one of the many bookshelves. Khaya proceeded to climb up the ladder and pick out an old, dusty book that had to be at least five hundred pages thick.

Ash’s eyes widened, as the young elf handed the book to his friend, only to procure three other examples of such books.

‘If these are all bestiaries… This’ll be useful in the long run.’

The innkeeper slammed the veritable tower of books he was now carrying around down on a table in the middle of the room.

Then he finally spoke:

“Sorry ‘bout earlier,” the old man began, “this here information is usually strictly for the eyes of veteran adventurers, but I’ll happily make an exception if the one asking is young Khaya, here. Besides, no-one told me you were a lord—an elven lord, of all things.”

He let his eyes glide up and down his potential customer.

“Name’s Alf,” he said, and stuck out his hand.

Ash took it.

“Nice to meet’cha.”

“So, is this all the information you’ve got on the monsters around these parts?”

“Yup, ‘tis every monster we’ve seen and slain. And it can all be yours for… what say you 500 Golden Drakes a piece? Should be no problem to pay such a modest sum, for a lord, such as yourself.”

The edges of the lord’s mouth twitched slightly.

“Sure,” he said, and stuck a hand in his pockets which were both empty, with the exception of his trusty monster-slaying knife. “I’m not too good with arithmetic, so if the two of you could do the math for me, I’d be much obliged.”

“Ha! Bullshit. I get it, though. ‘nyone needs to be lazy from time to time. If you’d let me step aside with this here youngster for a bit, we’ll do the numbers for you.”

“Splendid,” Ash said, as he watched the two of them turn their backs to him, and stick their heads together.

The edges of his mouth twitched yet again.

‘In your own words, slave. I don’t want any witnesses.’

The twitching turned to a grin, the grin to a smile, the smile to a grimace, and the grimace to a—

“Wow, where’d you get the kind of cash to buy all that up-front?” Hans asked, at the sight of his hooded master coming out from the study out back, balancing four huge books with just his two hands and chest.

“I was packing quite a bit,” the young elf replied, and motioned for Zennereth to grab two of the books for him.

The lich looked absolutely flabbergasted at the sheer amount of data his master was so casually handing him.

“Snap out of it, Zen. We have a bit of a journey ahead of us.”

“Are we bringing that elf… along? He seemed… useful.”

The necromancer simply shook his head in response as he walked out the inn’s door. He didn’t stop to wait for his companions, who simply had to do their best to keep up with him, as he walked towards the city gates—towards the horrors of the snow outside. He licked a bit of blood off his completely soaked cheek, while the demented smile that clouded his face spread further and further as the sickening sound of his blood thickening, growing colder and darker, numbed his senses to the world outside.

Crack, came the metaphysical sound of something inside him breaking; when the crackbrained smile he was hiding, just beneath the surface, broke something like the last line of defense that had kept the entity known as Ash and the endless, impenetrable obscurity of the vast void separate. And the young elf indulged in the sense of letting go. Just a little bit. Letting that feeling, that smile, of utter depravity well up inside him—just a little—and feel the forbidden power at the bottom of the blackness.

“Oh Ash,” came a sinister voice, audible only to those brave enough to stare down the dark pit in within their minds, “That power need not be forbidden. All you need to do is… take it—”

“—master.”

The young elf could hear someone calling from far away, breaking off the voice in his head’s intriguing monologue. Ash didn’t reply. He felt too tired.

“Master!”

Judging from the voice, Ash could easily tell it was Zennereth. But the necromancer’s feet felt too heavy to life; his thoughts too jumbled to control; his body too supine.

The lich laid a hand on Ash’s shoulder and he could instantly feel the blackness disappear into that pit within him, like a rat crawling back to its nest in the sewers to suckle on the teat of whatever monstrosity had given birth to it and the rest of its repugnant brood.

“Wh..at?” came his tired-sounding response.

“I mean no offense, but… you need to wait for the rest of us. I can easily keep up, but Hans… You know Hans.”

“Yes,” Ash replied, without slowing his pace.

He could feel the lich’s hand slide off of his tired shoulders, as he slipped and fell on a frozen tile on the sidewalk. He could just barely see his face, reflected back to him on the blank stone plate.

It woke him right up.

His face didn’t look like his own at all. It was twisted into a grimace, filled with emotions that weren’t his own at all. His otherwise quite pretty face was completely unrecognizable in the midst of all the madness that had surfaced.

“Master! Are you alright?”

The young elf could hear Zennereth hurrying to his side, while Ash did his best to hide the demented grin on his face.

‘How could this happen? I never lose control over—my mask—my face.’

Ash got his face under control and looked up at his concerned servant, who was luckily just standing behind him.

“I’m fine. We need to go, though. Give those books you’re holding to me and help Hans move—pick him up, or something.”

The lich gave his master one last look, as if to say “I’m here if you need me,” before going to help Hans move faster, as he had been instructed.

Truth be told, Ash was not feeling fine. In fact, he was feeling an emotion he thought the darkness had forever rid him of—something he thought the blackening of his soul had numbed him toward, just as it had sheltered him from the horrors of the world.

Fear.

A fear that followed him even as he left through the gates of Frostborg and stepped out, into cold wasteland that awaited him outside the safety of the walls.

He now knew that he found himself in a place where the monsters could reach him.

 

Chapter end