A Dark Art

If It Were Only A Dragon [Chapter 7]

Early that next morning, I managed to pawn Farvin off on my squire. “Begin requisitioning supplies for the journey out east. Twenty… perhaps thirty, no forty horses, with rations and camp-making supplies for two weeks for the same amount of riders, and swords that are extra sharp. Perhaps a handful of heavy bows and their own quivers of arrows. I’ll also need my special shampoo and a down feather pillow, but only for myself. And ask the quartermasters if they have anything to treat burns.”

At the promised time, I went to the north gate of the city, alone, as asked. I saw the elven mage first, eyes scanning everyone and everything passing that gate at that time as if she were a sentry. As I came closer, I noticed another beside her, head and body shrouded in a cloak.

“Good, you’ve come alone,” Nemona greeted as I approached. She glanced around behind me to confirm the fact.

“And you… haven’t,” I said, trying to determine the role of the other individual. “We are walking, I assume?”

“Yes. But before that… know that the magics you may experience today in my midst are perfectly benign and used under proper supervision.”

I nodded and glanced at the robed figure once more. “As long as it takes me closer to my duty of defeating this dragon, I will say no more.”

I had barely ventured outside the capital city during my precious lifetime, and the few times were certainly not on foot. However, I figured that it would be a good warm-up for the upcoming journey east to fight the dragon. The main road forked off toward a smaller route that continued along the coast, rising and falling with the natural shape of the seaside cliffs and promontories.

Despite most of my exercise being from standing stiffly at the King’s side day after day, the elf was clearly tiring out before me. The cloaked figure seemed to maintain a fixed distance behind us, not saying a word, nor showing signs of slowing down.

I crept up beside the elf and attempted to get information about the situation. “If this task deals with the dead… don’t tell me that you’ve invited a… necromancer to join us today?”

The elf huffed louder than normal. “You’re quite the keen one, Mr. Warmaker.”

“It’s Sir Gladius,” I corrected. “Is… necromancy not a taboo, especially in the halls of the Ministry of Magics?”

Nemona mocked my words in a low voice. “Oh, and I’m guessing your king wants to tell the people with destructive magical powers what or what not to do?”

“I wouldn’t dare, especially if it’s going to help me do my job,” I said, glancing back. “Are all necromancers naturally this dreary, or does the art do this to them over time?”

Nemona shuffled to a halt and glanced back. “Well, he is kind of a dreary person, nocturnal even. He’s actually asleep right now. It’s a good time to wake him though, the levitation magic is taking a toll on me.”

“Asleep?”

Nemona backtracked to the hooded figure and pulled his hood back. He was without pointed ears and even had a fairly youthful face. His face twitched just a little in response to the late morning sun. The elf suddenly grabbed at his collar and slapped him on either side of the face.

“Edward, it is time to wake up! I can’t carry you all this way!”

He shook his head and rubbed at his eyes. As Nemona let him down, I saw him drop several more inches to the ground, revealing his true height beneath the cloak.

“Are we there yet?” he said in raspy voice.

“No,” said the elf, tugging on his collar again to keep him from reeling backward onto the road. “You’ll need to walk the rest of the way.”

“Ugh,” the young necromancer said with a groan. “Daywalkers, huh,” he said, glancing at me. I didn’t know if he was talking to me, so I didn’t respond.

“I told you to not call people that,” Nemona corrected, shoving him forward ahead of us. “If anything, you’re the strange one. We’re quite normal. Am I wrong, Mr. Warmaker?”

“Uh, yeah.”

The ocean view slowly came into sight as the morning fog cleared and the path took us closer to sea level. The pale tide-bitten cliffs continued on for quite a while.

“He’s so young,” I said, my voice low to avoid incurring any unnecessary wrath from someone with assumedly strange and dark powers. “It wasn’t some sort of career questionnaire that sent him on this questionable path of study? Like, ‘what type of people interest you the most— A: the healthy, B: the sick, or C: the deceased?’”

Nemona shook her head. “Interesting story with this one. It all started with a pet chicken. One day it died. Well, was killed.”

“That’s not a pet, then, is it?”

“No, but who knows what naive human children think?” She shrugged. “Well, as I heard, that was the day that the boy learned that chicken the meat and chicken the animal were one and the same. Soon, he decided he was going to be a vegetarian.”

“A what? Is that some sort of pre-necromantic mage?”

The elf shook her head. “No, it just means he doesn’t doesn’t eat any animals now. At least he didn’t fall face-first into being a vegan.”

“Is that worse?”

“They don’t eat anything related to an animal. No eggs, no milk… who knows what else?”

I rolled the memory of my last few meals through my head, wondering what would be left for one of those vegan folks. “Do they eat just… leaves and rocks then?”

“That would be about it. I’m more sorry for them than anything.”

I nodded in agreement. “I can understand the trauma from the pet chicken, but that doesn’t explain how the boy ended up into necromancy.”

“Right, that ordeal. Edward here is a big reader. Well, even certain unsavory magical tomes end up mistaken for recipe books or whatever and end up in regular libraries. Long story short, the boy got caught buying all sorts of strange ingredients for a ritual. One involving the carcass of his old pet chicken.”

I shivered at the thought. “And someone caught him before it all went down?”

“Let’s just say that a fleshless chicken carcass doesn’t ambulate quite like a live chicken, especially after it’s been turned into a nice broth. But it can make an awful mess and racket.”

I stared at the young man, skinny and unimposing, wafting along the path ahead of us. “And to think he was only a beginner at the art.”

“Indeed,” the elf nodded. “I’ve argued with quite a number of humans on the topic of talent and magic. For us elves, magic is in our blood. But latent talent is something that some have and others don’t. And if you don’t have it, well, sucks to be you. We took in Edward here after… terminating… his ritual. If you don’t nurture these types, they can develop into real weirdos.”

I glanced at the elf. “I’m sure they would.”

The road continued to a more jagged area of cliff faces. The salt-air-loving grasses clung to the edges of the landscape, many of their long roots floating in plain air. Up a long incline, we caught up with the young necromancer.

“Are we almost there, Nemona?” he asked tiredly. “And please tell me you packed a lunch.”

“I made futo sandwiches for all of us!”

“Futo? I see,” I said, pretending I knew what that was.

“So you know of our elvish delicacy,” Nemona nodded at me with almost a sign that she was impressed. “But we must save them for the journey back. Else you want to exhaust yourself early and have to camp out in the tomb.”

Over the hill, we came across a sparse collection of farmhouses. Nearer to the cliff were sandstone buildings in a tighter grouping. I caught up with the two mages. “Are we getting close?”

“This is just about it,” Nemona said back. “Surely you know where we are?”

“Unless this is the location of a famous battle, I doubt I would know of it.”

The elf rolled her eyes. “Of course, young little human. This is the remains of the old capital. Well, all that remains here is the old surrounding town.”

“Ah, of course, the old capital,” I said. I wasn’t aware of any such thing. “Is this old capital as old as you?”

“I’d appreciate it if you did not use my age as a milestone for how old something inanimate is. It is in fact, older.”

“And what happened to it?”

“Let’s have a look, shall we?” Nemona said back with a wink.

We traveled through the town, pulling the attention of just about every local. The sandstone buildings were practically on the edge of the cliff. Some were even threatened by the erosion of the cliffs below. When we reached the precarious edge, I suddenly understood the elf’s comment.

The water was the pale blue as I knew it, stained with white turbulence from under the surface. The waves crashed over old blocky structures, their sharp corners carved away over time, but still clinging to their man made uniformity.

“The old capital, left to the mercy of the waters,” Nemona said, almost mockingly.

“Something once so beloved and revered now torn asunder,” Edward hummed.

“How many times have I told you to not say such dismal things?” The elf huffed at the young man.

“Sorry, miss,” he said sheepishly, bowing his head.

“So what happened here?” I asked, staring out at the submersed stonework.

“Well, some old kingly types thought that this would be a nice place for a castle. At some point in the building process, a mage with knowledge of earth magics told them that it would never last, that the sandstone wasn’t a good place to build so high. Well, you can probably guess why people started respecting the magics a little bit.”

I nodded and inched away from the edge even further than I was. “It wasn’t the old, old, king that planned this mess? The one who also supposedly slew the dragon?”

“I doubt it, but feel free to ask him,” Edward smirked back, cracking his knuckles.

I sighed and nodded, hoping that this would all come to fruition.

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