Rise of a Necromancer

by Rosie Scott

  “I'll consider it,” I agreed.

  The Celd pulled out small packets of dried fruit. “Is there anything else you're looking for? I'm still ending up with the better end of the deal, here.”

  “I assume you have no fishing supplies.”

  “No.”

  “Silk? Horsehair? Bendable metal?”

  The Celd laughed abruptly. “What are you planning on doing with all that?”

  “Building a fishing rod.”

  He raised an eyebrow, impressed. “You know what? I do have metal that would work for a hook. I have needles.”

  I eyed the bottles of rempka in his bag. “Clean ones?”

  The Celd followed my gaze and burst into laughter. “Not injection needles, my friend.” He grazed one finger along the lobe of his ear, where multiple looped silver piercings shone in the sunlight. “Piercing needles. And yes, they're clean.”

  “I'll take a few,” I replied, convinced.

  “I also have horsehair, but I have no silk,” he said, separating a few piercing needles from his collection and wrapping them in a small strip of fabric.

  “I'll take some of that as well.” I watched as he dug through his things and opened a bag full of pure-white horsehair. Since the Celd had been friendly thus far, I mimicked his earlier words. “Will someone come looking for this?”

  He snorted a laugh at my unexpected humor. “No. The horses are treated well and grew it back.”

  “That might not matter to a particularly vengeful horse.”

  The Celd grinned as he wrapped the long hair around his hand, creating a loop before securing the hair in another pouch. He gave me everything and watched as I put it in my satchel. “Why are you alone?” he questioned.

  “Made enemies with all the wrong people and lost all the right ones.”

  “Well, I pray that you find your way,” he offered. As I silently collected my satchel off the log, he added, “Is there anything else you need by way of advice? This ring will fetch me a good price.”

  I hesitated and looked around at our surroundings. “Which fungi are edible? I've been avoiding everything.”

  “Avoid everything with bright color on its cap or stem,” he replied. “Red is most common, but if you ever venture underground by way of dwarven town or tunnel you might come across bioluminescence. Avoid mushrooms with skirts or sacks on their bases. Everything else should be safe.” He nodded toward my bag. “I recommend picking up an alchemy book if you come across one. Until then, compare the mushrooms I gave you to those you see in the forest, and that'll help you learn.”

  “You've been most helpful,” I said. “Thank you.”

  “And you've been entertaining,” he replied with a smile. “Good luck to you.”

  “You as well.”

  I continued on my way to the east, feeling relieved after my exchange with the Celd. I had new supplies, but being able to talk and trade with someone who had no idea of my crimes was refreshing. He clearly understood I had a troubled history, but he wasn't so clean himself. It seemed secrets could be well-kept among criminals.

  Just as the sun's glow gained a tinge of red with its yawn, I stopped early and used my new supplies to build a fishing rod. Though it had been years since building the last, each step came naturally to me. Crafting it was the most successful I'd been at anything in a long while, but I felt little pride.

  Over the next week or so, I stopped at every stream and pond on my way to the Cel Pass, taking my time fishing, descaling, gutting, and sun-drying my catches. The Cel Mountains were now so close they cast the forest in shadow and its temperature fell considerably. With a simple glance through the canopies I could see snowy peaks and rough gray rock, but I took my time fishing nonetheless. I needed a stock of food, and I could possibly trade fish for additional gold if I needed it later.

  But fishing also took me back to a nostalgic time and place when things were simpler. For the first time since losing my parents, I left the denial stage of grief and moved on to acceptance. I grieved silently while trying to relax in a manipulative cloud of familiarity, and somehow, I no longer felt alone.

  Eleven

  The Seran Forest thinned and relinquished its claim of the land to rockier dirt and colder climates. The trees at the easternmost woodland border allowed the Cel Mountains to make their entrance as dramatic as possible through parted branches. Slopes of gray rock rose to snow-capped peaks surrounded by dense clouds. It appeared the upper mountains were currently assaulted by a snowstorm even though the ground was dry beneath my boots.

  Even after reaching the peaks, it took two days to find the Cel Pass by traveling south along the base of the range. There was an old, worn path of trampled pine needles devoid of rocks from those who came before me who'd also emerged from the forest too far north. I passed by groups of mercenaries and travelers, and most of them gave friendly greetings, oblivious to my identity. While I responded in kind, my rougher voice sounded so intimidating that I decided it was best just to nod. Sirius's warrant mentioned my unique voice. I had no reason to believe word of my crimes had spread this far east, particularly with the regent's pleas to keep the situation under control to avoid panicking the populace. Nonetheless, I didn't need to find reasons to arouse suspicion.

  At the meeting of two mountains was a clearly defined wide path that sloped upward from a worn sign that simply read Cel Pass. Large boulders that had once fallen from the peaks littered the inside of the route, and many were cut down to leave room for walking. Far above my head and between the mountains hung the wood and rope bridges the Celd told me about, and as the snowstorm raged where I couldn't yet feel it, the bridges waved and rattled with protests.

  I headed up the path, winding around rock formations and only stopping to sleep under outreaches of stone and in alcoves. The higher up I traveled, the colder it became. The snowstorms calmed within the first two days, but the path remained intimidating and treacherous. Oddly, I felt little fear or anxiety of the unknown, instead focusing only on experiencing something new.

  Days after first entering the pass, the trail forked. Rather than choosing right away, I hesitated my advance to look over the land I'd left behind. The Seran Forest was an undulating green ocean hugging the near coastline of gray rock. Though the chill whistling through the mountains made it feel like Red Moon where I stood, the sun relentlessly assaulted the forest, driving the exterior canopies to glimmer reflectively for mercy. The woodland had been cool with shadow, but while looking down upon it one would think it steamed with heat. The skies were a cerulean blue that faded softly into the horizon where fluffy overlapping clouds chased their brethren.

  The forest called out that it would hold my secrets and offer me shelter, and I believed it since it did such a good job thus far. After visiting Brognel and buying necessities, I would return to it. I had no desire to run all my life. It would be dangerous and take time, but eventually I would make that forest my haven. Much like Valerius the Undying had taken shelter on an island north of Chairel and goaded men to him only to collect their corpses over the centuries, I could do the same. By living in the forest and learning its every intricacy, I would always be in my element no matter who came after me. Then, their bodies would only be added to my repertoire.

  Just thinking about such a thing made me look forward to the challenge, so I turned from the view and studied the fork in the path for a few moments. I had no idea which way to turn, and there was no helpful sign here like there had been on the ground. No travelers were around, so I couldn't ask for directions. Relying on luck alone, I went right.

  The passage curved, narrowed, and continued around the mountain until it led over a long rope bridge that creaked even when it barely moved. I tested my weight on the first plank. When it didn't break, I walked a little too swiftly across the overpass, eager to leave it behind me.

  The route evolved and became steeper and even more narrow, but I was forced to rest for the night. The next morning, I kept going uphill unti
l the path broadened and leveled off in a crest. Blocking the skies above it was the next mountain peak over. When I finally reached the path, breathing hard with the climb and with legs so stiff my knees threatened never to bend again, my breath caught with wonder.

  I'd traveled above the clouds. The path broke through rock to allow a view of the open sky to the right, where the early afternoon sun glistened off the mist of clouds so close I almost reached out to touch them. I could see no land, for under the endless blue of Arrayis's upper atmosphere, the clouds stretched out like a cotton carpet. I'd weathered no storms over the past day, and now it made sense, for I'd traveled above them. The air was still and unbelievably crisp, but somehow it felt warmer here. The sun's warmth was trapped between it and the clouds.

  The path continued on the edge of the peak until it led into an open cave. From what I'd heard of Brognel, it was half above ground and half below it, so I didn't find this suspicious. I headed toward the cave, the glaring sunlight keeping me from seeing within its shadow until I stepped into it.

  The temperature cooled once more, and my eyes adjusted to the sudden darkness. This was not a cave, but a tunnel. This path tunneled through the remaining mountain peak, where an absurdly long rope bridge stretched to the next.

  A golden gate that encompassed the entire opening split the tunnel in half. Three humans loitered around it, which I found telling given Brognel had a dwarven populace. A woman crouched just inside, rummaging through a crate of goods that likely was dropped off recently. Two men guarded the gate, one outside and one inside. All three painted their skin a golden hue. As I approached, the woman glanced up and stood at my arrival, but the two men refused to make eye contact with me.

  “Well, well,” the woman greeted, her eyes wandering down the length of me. Instead of seeming flirtatious, she glared down her nose like I was a piece of meat. “You're a little pale, but you'll do. Welcome to Whispermere, handsome.”

  I stopped when I was still a distance away from the gate, bewildered and uncomfortable. “You have me confused for someone else.”

  “You have let the name slip,” one of the men protested, still not moving his gaze from the ground. “You must never let the name slip when a stranger arrives at the—”

  “Silence,” the woman hissed, and the man complied. I noticed with distaste that he shook fiercely with fear. Ignoring the panicking man, the woman glanced back up at me. “You're not a volunteer?”

  I frowned and looked past her to the bridge. I couldn't see what lie beyond. “No. I thought this was Brognel—”

  “I didn't ask you what you thought,” the woman snapped, one eyebrow raised with offense. “I asked you a yes or no question. A simple no would have sufficed.”

  Suddenly, it felt like I was back in the Seran University and surrounded by bullies so lacking in intelligence they could think of nothing but insults. I thought of how Kai would often fight back and how wonderful it felt to defend myself to Kenady. It encouraged me to reply, “Perhaps a no would have sufficed, but I offered you more. I don't need your permission to speak.”

  The woman flinched back like I'd hit her, and she spat, “I change my mind. You are fucking hideous.”

  “You're not the first to think that,” I mused dryly.

  The woman glared at the two men who still wouldn't give her eye contact. “Don't let him in. I don't care what he wants.” She spun on her heel and hurried through the tunnel to the bridge.

  “I apologize,” said one of the guards, “but they have banned you from entering.”

  “And it was the easiest thing I've ever done.”

  “You spoke out of turn and disrespected her,” the man went on.

  “That woman deserves no respect from me or you.” One of the men gasped in response to my revulsion, but I couldn't tell which one since they both stared at the ground. I glanced through the gate, noticing the woman was out of sight. “What kind of cult is this?”

  “We answer no questions of this nature,” came the response. “If you have things to trade, we may do so here. Otherwise, I have to ask you to leave.”

  “I would like to trade,” I said, letting my satchel slip off my shoulder to the ground. As submissive as the men were in Whispermere, it seemed most of them were human. Perhaps they'd have attire in my size. “I need new clothes. I have sun-dried fish, dried fruits from Celendar, jewelry, and weapons.”

  Though the guards agreed to trade, when they looked me over to judge the size of the clothing I'd need, they still refused to look me in the eye. One left across the bridge and returned with two identical outfits. After judging their quality and size and finding both sufficient, I offered them what I had. The men seemed particularly impressed with the dried fish I'd prepared myself, especially when I told them the species. Perhaps their suppliers and traders normally brought ocean fish instead. After handing them enough packages of fish for the value of my new clothing, the men continued guarding the gate.

  “I came looking for Brognel,” I said, flicking my eyes back toward the tunnel's entrance. “Could you point me in the right direction?”

  “Brognel is in the northern range,” one guard replied, pointing north despite staring downward. “Where did you come from?”

  “The Seran Forest.”

  “Then you must have come to a fork and went right,” he replied, which reminded me I had. “You should have went left. If you go back the way you came, go straight. Eventually, you'll come to another fork. Stay straight to go to Brognel, turn right to head through the mountains to the eastern border.”

  Straight and straight, I deduced from his directions. “Thank you.”

  The man only bent forward in farewell. I left Whispermere perplexed and confused by its purpose. I had never heard of it before, nor did I remember seeing it on any map. Its outward beauty appeared like a cover for underlying corruption; while its mystery intrigued me, I didn't care to dig deeper and was happy to leave it behind me.

  I headed back the way I'd come, going straight at the fork I saw just days earlier to head north. The path quickly widened and smoothed like it was more often used than the one to Whispermere. I promised myself that I would become better at studying my surroundings and tracking, for if I'd noticed such a thing days ago I could have avoided the detour.

  Its appearance didn't lie, for no sooner did I walk up its incline when the first travelers came into view from its crest ahead. Two dwarven men pushed a wooden trading cart toward me, using a lever on its side and above the rear wheel to apply a brake that resisted the steep hill. As we neared one another, the two dwarves smiled in friendly greeting. Since I'd ditched my bloodstained clothes for the new ones I'd traded for, I assumed I gave off a better first impression.

  One dwarf helped his friend control the trading cart from a handle, though his left arm hung in a sling attached to his neck. The other fared much better and used both arms, his muscles bulging from overcompensating. I eyed over their merchandise. Tarps and blankets covered some of it, but a curved blade partially hidden by a tarp caught my eye near the back of the cart.

  The dwarves noticed my stare just before our paths crossed. One reached down and cranked the lever back further, and the cart came to a standstill despite the decline.

  “Ya lookin' to trade?” the injured one asked, eyeing my heavy satchel.

  “I want to see the curved blade,” I replied, pointing to it.

  “This one?” The other dwarf tugged an ax with a rounded blade from the cart.

  “No,” I replied. “The other one. In the back.”

  “Oh...” the dwarf looked over the cart's contents until he saw it. “This?”

  One thick, grubby hand threw the blanket to the side, revealing the weapon in its entirety. It was a scythe similar in shape to those made to harvest grass, but it appeared someone built this one for battle. Its long, curved blade was broader in width to increase its durability, while steel encapsulated the end of its black handle to act as the blade's counterweight. The handl
e itself wasn't as long as a polearm; instead, it was forged to nearly half-size, allowing one to wield it one-handed and exert greater control of the blade.

  It was a hellishly gorgeous weapon and I wanted it immediately.

  “I'd advise against the scythe, friend,” the dwarf said hesitantly. “It's a better weapon in theory than in practice, ya see. The guy who had me forge it said he wanted t'be a harvester of men—”

  “I want it,” I interrupted, letting my satchel strap fall down my arm as I prepared to trade.

  “Ya don't know what yer gettin' into,” he protested. “It's an unwieldy son of a bitch. Any fighting style yer used to? You'll have to rework it.”

  “Perfect,” I said. “I have no fighting style. I'll make my own.” I nodded toward my satchel. “I have food, jewelry, weapons.” I stared back up at the duo as they frowned and exchanged glances.

  “Gold,” said the injured one.

  “I have little,” I admitted.

  “Then ya ain't gettin' the scythe,” he replied.

  I stared at the weapon as I pondered. Finally, I nodded toward the man's broken arm and said, “I will mend your arm for it.”

  The dwarf frowned. “Ya have a healer's license?”

  “No, but I have a healer's education.”

  Both men quieted and glanced around them for witnesses. Using magic without a license from the Seran University was a crime in Chairel. An unlicensed healer could not only be imprisoned for using their magic on someone in need, but after three offenses the punishment escalated to execution for life mages and their patients. Thus, even offering to heal him was risky, but I wanted that damn scythe.

  “Mm...” the other dwarf began, motioning off the side of the path to a small camping spot that hid in an alcove behind some rocks. “Maybe this is the type'a thing to talk about in private, aye?”

  I swept an arm toward the alcove in an open and silent invitation.

  The two dwarves waddled around the nearby rocks, delicately pushing their cart over rougher ground and parking it. I followed, reaching in the cart and taking out the scythe to ensure I liked the way it felt in my hand. The traders watched me carefully, making sure I wouldn't run off with it.