The Necromancers Story: Ch1 The Siren

The Necromancers Story

Chapter One: The Siren

Weary from a journey, which now, as ever, seemed far from its end, she found her feet repeatedly snagging on the flagstones. Through her exhaustion, she reminded herself of her purpose and marched on, seemingly unhindered. In fact, the only encumbrance she’d encountered she could not block out of her mind was the heavy rucksack whose straps were rubbing her shoulders raw, and whose weight was in fact, the cause for her dragging feet.

         It was just before sunset, and the diminishing orange light from the sun and ashen horizon, relieved her somewhat for she knew it almost time for rest. Just a while longer and she could curl up in the shadows, her fears held in limbo till dawn.

         The roadway she treaded was one of the finest she’d encountered in her trek, and though she’d sworn to stay off any main ways her curiosity had gotten the best of her. What great place could it lead to? Surely, it had to be an immense city, perhaps a port, or merchant crossroads? For, it was likely she had seen most every road in the country, and this by far was the most impressive.

         The countryside too was well kempt, its farms neat and tidy, its brush manicured. Even the trees had seemingly been planted in orderly rows possibly a hundred years ago — so that one really could hardly call them woods at all, for they were more likely someone’s personal arbor. Tiny violets grew among the crevices of the road, and bell flowers along it edge, their combined smell was a heady aroma which ensnared the senses. In the failing light, she couldn’t help but think that this road could be that same road which would lead lost souls to heaven. Perhaps her salvation was near.

         When soon, she was enveloped in the pitch black blanket of night, she headed off the trail and found a thick patch of grass, surrounded by tall bushes on two sides. Here she dropped her burden and raised her arms to the sky, stretching away the soreness in her shoulder blades. It was then she heard it. Not that there was much of a choice to hear it or not – for it was no whisper, or faint and faraway noise that sounded then, but in fact a terrible siren.

         It was shrill and angry, pumping fear into the depths of her. It was louder than a foghorn, louder than war! It was full of the cries of the dying and the laments of the dead. It echoed of hostility between families, the roars of great dragons, the cawing of crows, the bemoaning of lost loves, and the incitements of angry mobs. Such a sound! It ate at her insides, making her retch and shake. Throwing her hands up, she covered her ears, but there was no stifling it. The sound was not just in the air, but had permeated her flesh. Within minutes she found herself sputtering nonsense and crying with utter madness.

         Rising to her feet, she looked about desperately. She flung herself upon the ground, only to rise and run recklessly into the trunk of a nearby birch, but even pain did not impede it. Reason left her, and she ran screaming to the road, eyes wheeling about, frantically searching for help. Again, her foot caught one of the flagstones, and she fell with a painful crash upon them. Tears coated her cheeks, and her hair was wildly disheveled from rolling on the ground, dirt and blades of grass clung to the sweat on her arms; she was no more than a frightened creature of the forest.

         It was still reverberating, even then. It’s despondent, odious sound was as thick as fog. It was everywhere, encasing everything in a miserable skin-peeling acid. Even the poor violets and bellflowers were now wilting. Trees in springs’ bloom too, bowed and shook off there leaves to stem the terrible ache. She tried to scrabble to her feet. There must be a building, somewhere to hide from it! She grasped like mad at the air in front of her, trying to find support to rise to her feet just as a dozen crazed squirrels jetted past her, making her mind reel. Panic gripped her as she leapt to her feet to avoid them, hitting a tree bluntly and falling backwards. Except that it was no tree, and that she did not fall.

         The man that caught her swung her easily up into his arms and holding her close sprinted into the wood line. He ran forever while the siren continued to push her into a black oblivion. Her eyelids stung, and what energy she had dribbled from her lips, she could no longer move, and was about to give in to the heart-crushing anxiety when she saw the cave, and the two large, terrible eyes that lie in it’s dark shadows.

         “Sleep,” The man whispered, and she did.

The void in which she now found herself filled her with immediate calm. The terrible siren was no longer. In fact, the only sound to be heard was an odd, but pleasant chirping, as if she was standing in a pitch-black field of locusts. Echoes of laughter came then, hugging her and warming her heart; whilst unexpected colors burst forth all around, breathing life into her gasping soul. The tiniest of fireflies danced to an unheard music and try as she might, she could not catch a one.
         Letting a sigh of relief escape her, she watched as the colors about her rippled. In amusement she clapped – entranced as they exploded into flowery shaped sunbursts. She’d never been so happy, so content, or so inspired. Not since her fathers death.
         That one melancholy thought caused the colors to alter dramatically. They muted into grays, dark blues, and blood reds, casting eerie shadows across her body. She watched helplessly as the fireflies scattered. Blinking, she opened her eyes to find herself in the midst of a great forest. It was quite unlike that well-manicured forest that she had been standing in only minutes before. This place was eerily familiar. Here the trees grew untouched by man, twisting into beautiful whimsical treats for the eye. Moss covered stones, crisscrossing streams, and the crunch of leaves under her feet awoke her memories. This place did not exist; it was a figment of her past. She found that she knew every gnarled tree, every fall trunk, even the trail that now seemed invisible due to the encroaching foliage.
         Breathing a sigh of recollection, she let a smile cross her face. An urge to dance forced her into a whirling trance. Spinning upon the leafy ground, her dress blew up in an unexpected breeze. She let the glee enter her and in that moment, it was all gone. A shudder rippled up her spine when she realized that the world was catching up to her and that soon she would be right back in that place where the terrible, ear-splitting siren reined king. Gasping, she quivered and truly opened her eyes.

         “Help.” Her voice was weak and urgent, but the ears that her utterance fell upon were strangers. Senses still dull from her unconsciousness she swung her head from side to side dumbly trying to shake the lethargic grip on her mind. Her limbs felt heavy and cumbersome as she struggled to sit upright but her heart was beating like a butterfly. Before her sat the most terrifying, yet also the most beautiful beast she’d ever encountered. Its magnificent beauty shimmered in the dim moonlight. Even in the dark, its scales, almost red, glittered like a thousand twinkling stars. It was an awesome sight, and to find ones self so near… truly delightful. The opalescent scales on her underbelly actually glowed, illuminating the pebble strewn cave floor, as well as the handsome gentleman standing in the furthest corner. Nuzzling its face towards her, much as a pony would do, its steamy breath warmed her face and she couldn’t help but smile.

         “A most amazing beauty,” Remarked the man in the corner. “Even I still get that look on my face when I behold her.” The beast blinked its eyes blushingly and shifted its weight to turn to the man, who rubbed her nose with his palm lovingly. She giggled, entranced by the sight before her. Surely, she was still unconscious and dreaming? Never could such a remarkable creature be real, not in this world with all its evils: Perfection such as that before her belonged on another plane.

         “What…what is she?” She asked in a bewildered whisper, and swallowed hard – afraid of the answer. Laughing boisterously, the man clutched at his side. His chuckles reverberated around the cave tickling her face. Her hand slid up to her cheek, without doubt that had been magic. The sound of her laughter, though almost taunting her ignorance made her smile largely. The siren was gone! Opening her mouth to remark on it she was stopped short by the mans sudden dash to the mouth of the cave. His deep amber colored cloak brushed her face as he went its soft material leaving a remarkable tingle.

         It had to be magic and it was all over him. She was astounded at it, and he wore it so openly. Where she had been raised, ones magic was a personal business, not something to be shared with some stranger in a cave. How awkward. The place at the end of the road must be itself a magical place where folk were little concerned with concealing their magic, she finally concluded. It would be a place where no one was persecuted for possessing magic other than apothecary mixtures and simple protection charms like that place where she’d grown up. Her heart leapt. It was heaven at the end of the flagstone way, she’d known it, that why she hadn’t been able to keep from treading it!

         Her sigh was one of utter bliss. Rising to her feet with a renewed energy she grabbed her skirts up in her hands and began to jump and dance, whirling fabric in every direction. Freedom. She had finally found freedom! Her dance caught the great scaled beasts’ attention, and it began to bob its head up and down gleefully, its jowls in an awkward smile. Two sets of very large teeth bared in a grin in the darkness was something she’d thought she’d never see, but then the city at the end of the road was something too she thought could never exist. Song had entered her heart and it was her trek and its happy ending, which were its lyrics. She would have sung it but the man turned to her with a harsh gaze.

         Its severity halted her dance and subdued the sweet monster. Marching towards her, he harshly grasped her upper arm.

         “Do you know what kind of danger we’re in?” He demanded. His face was too close; his energy was oozing onto her face through his breath. Its anger was on her, but it did nothing but make her tremble, fear gripping her. “Did you not hear the warning?” Shaking her slightly, he sighed from frustration as he listened to her try to stutter out a reply.

         “But…it’s stopped…” She finally spit out, a tear coursing down her cheek. He shook his head and roughly led her to the mouth of the recess. Muttering a few words under his breath, he caused the siren to start where it had left off, and she felt herself slipping back into darkness. It had weakened her so much and now, it had to do very little to drain what strength she’d regained. The man saw her shudder and lean helplessly against the stones of the caves opening as her energy seeped away. Once he knew for sure that she was aware of the sirens death hold did he again mute the interior of the cave.

         “Do you see now? I am but silencing this cave, the warning does not stop until…” He was going to go on, but instead stooped to pick her up and set her where she had been lying before. Regretfully, he moved the hair from her face and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I’m sorry I did that, it was imprudent of me. Of course, I haven’t been very kind from the start…I have no excuse.” He frowned and took off his cloak to roll it into a pillow for her. She breathed in little gasps, but was coming back around much faster than her last experience with ‘the warning’.

         “You brought me here…” She said weakly. He smiled and tilted his head to the side. “You haven’t been all that unkind is what I mean. I could still be out there in it…” Stuffing his cloak under her head he cleared his throat.

         “It’s my job.” He said matter-of-factly. “I belong to the Protection Squadron of Mavendy. When the warning begins, we must go outside the silence of the city to find those whom might be lost to it, like yourself, and those who might have caused it…” He trailed off and rose to walk back to the edge of the cave.

         “What do you mean…might have caused it?” She asked softly, aware that he had cut himself off on purpose.

         “Actually,” He said. “I should still be out there looking, but I sense no one within my range…there was only you.” Sitting against the wall, he considered her sincerely. “And, as is my duty, I will wait with you until the warning has ceased.”

         “What will make it stop?” She asked immediately, still actually more interested in what might have caused it. The man was silent.

         “I’m Jarvis, by the way. That was quite rude of me wasn’t it – Jarvis Sedgwick of the Mavendy Sedgwick’s, son of Shantmark Sedgwick.” He smiled at his father’s name. “And you miss? What shall I call the girl who dances in caves?”  She couldn’t help but blush, not that she thought he could tell in the dark.

         “Rook.” She said simply. “Rook Wittlewood.” In the shadows she watched Jarvis nod and smile. His right arm gestured to the amazing creature now napping quite contently.

         “This is my partner, Solace. She’s a midsize two-year old with quite the sweet disposition.” His eyes were lit with memories. “Though everyone had expected her to turn red, and I’ll admit it, I figured she would too – she’s only this odd fuchsia color. Not real manly to have a pink partner…but for as desirable as reds are…she’s quite more unusual. In fact, she’s the only one this color that most everyone I know or have met has ever seen. That’s saying a lot. I meet a lot of people in my occupation.” Jarvis took something out of his pocket, a pouch of seeds from the sound once he’d stuck a handful in his mouth.

         “Does the warning protect the city then?” Her question coaxed a nodded from him. Finally, she thought, sighing. “So…something bad comes towards the city…like an army or something…and the warning goes off?” Another nod. At least she was getting somewhere slowly.

         “But not like an army. We have plenty of regular patrols that would warn us of that. The warning is for threats which are more…hmm…well those that aren’t as obvious, and are far more dangerous…” He trailed off and threw some more seeds in his mouth.

         “More dangerous than an army?” Rook laughed. “How is that possible.”

         “Magic.” He answered tritely through a mouth full of seeds. Rook swallowed hard. But Jarvis dripped of magic, there was no way that the warning wouldn’t sense him.

         “Magic army’s?” She asked with a raised eyebrow. This time he almost choked as he laughed. Shaking his hand at her in amusement he spit out the rest of the seeds in his mouth.

         “Well I can see that you are no threat, so let me explain.” He smiled and crawled to sit beside her. “So,” He began. “The city of Mavendy is a grand place. It is beautiful, rich, friendly, and safe. It is kept that way, by the warning. Only those with good magic are allowed within the walls of city. As you know there is much magic in this world, and those who have abilities for the advancement and aid of others are very welcome to Mavendy, however there are those who have dark magic in them. It is well known that these dark magics’ corrupt the bearer. They are called the MalMajikus. For example, StormBringers, ShadowStalkers, MistStalkers, SnakeSingers, BlackTongues, AmorMancers, as well as others, and the worst of course are the Necromancers.” He paused as if for affected and looked her in the eyes.

         “Necromancers?” She gasped. “Of course they would set of the warning.” Nodding in the dark he swallowed and returned to his story.

         “So, the warning goes off when someone with such a... an evil talent comes within thirteen miles of the city’s walls. The woods here are so called the ‘thirteen mile wood’, as a matter of fact. Anyway, then we are dispatched. We must protect the many innocent people who are in that area, and must find the one whom the warning is trying to stop from reaching the city. I mean, the sound itself was designed to make them leave. It’s a horrible sound, and no matter how strong their magic, only those who’ve been told the CounterSpell can protect themselves and others from it, or silence it – as I have done.” He gestured around the cave. “Usually, the warning doesn’t take this long to dissipate. The trees are faring very badly. Hopefully, by now they’ve dispatched an extra squadron to deal with the necromancer.”

         “How do you know it’s a necromancer?” Rook wondered, glancing outside to see the sad, withering trees sag with the sirens horrible sound.

         “Only a Necromancer could bear the noise this long, and a very strong one too. As a matter of fact we may even be a war by now. The last time the warning was this bad the Necromancer Lord Eofus Valen, usually called the Demon King, brought hells legions upon us in a three year war. The warning had little affect then because it was so new, it had too few wizards powering it. But now we have the Setiglynn, a council of thirteen elden mages which power it. Their abilities are unmatched. Together they are more powerful than the Demon King, but we still fear. He is constantly training minor necromancers in search of one whom he may groom to be his successor. If he were to join with someone whose powers were comparable his own…Mavendy would have little chance against them. It was only luck that saved us the last time.”

         “That’s amazing.” Rook shuddered thinking of the city under siege by the risen dead. In her minds eye, she watched as skeletons, rotting corpses and spirits unable to die, unable to be stopped, decimated everything in their path. “Why can’t they be stopped?”

         “Well, only another necromancer can seize control of the undead and command them to return to the grave, or weave spells to protect places from them. Being that the Demon King is the strongest, and that there are none that compare to his power, that’s impossible. The city has, of course, tried to use lesser necromancers in both quality and quantity, but their evil can not be allowed to enter the city and corrupt the others. It is impossible.”

         “Are all necromancers that bad?” She asked now fearful of the darkness. Would the sun never rise? Was there an army of the dead upon Mavendy already?

         “Yes. All of the MalMajikus are evil. Their minds are unprotected from the evil spirits and energies of the world. They go mad once they achieve puberty and it is irreversible. Many, whom have born children with the stigma of MalMajikus, have tried in vain to raise them in good ways. It is quite sad indeed; I have a cousin who was banished to sea when he was but twelve.” Jarvis shook his head with regret, but when he looked up he saw that Rook was smiling.

         “How silly.” She remarked with a giggle. Her amusement angered him and he barked at her for her childishness.

         “How silly? How can you say that! Mavendy has yearly banishments. Their only children, Rook…even the innocence of their youth does not save them.” He clenched his fists and shifted to rise. Placing a reassuring hand on his arm she apologized profusely, until he finally sat back down. It was with earnestness she began to explain herself.

         “It wasn’t that I was laughing at, Jarvis.” She said remorsefully. “I have a story to tell you that, perhaps will explain.” Her smile put him at ease and he sighed heavily.

         “Fine.” He agreed, looking outside where the trees stood, their bark slowly stripping and melting into massive puddles at their bases. The night smelled of dead animals and steamed from the boiling of the creeks, rivers, and ponds. The land was dying.

         “I knew a Necromancer once…”