Dirge for a Necromancer Read Free

beside the open window, and the thin drapes flapping as the rain poured outside. He could see the blood soaking into the mattress all around them. He watched the blood spreading; it was all over his hands and his stomach, and it smelled so strong he could’ve sworn it was in his nose as well. He stared at Slade’s broad, bare chest—at the pale, moist flesh—because he was too afraid to look up. If he looked up, he’d see his master’s face. If he saw his master’s face, he’d start crying anew.
    With one hand, Raettonus brushed the long, blond strands of hair from his face and threw off his blanket. As much as he would’ve liked to hang around in his bed the rest of the day, he’d learned that such an action would only give him painful sores. Besides, he needed to be going.
    The curtain drawn over his window did little to stop the light that flitted into his room, illuminating the stained plaster walls and the piles of books and papers strewn about the floor. As Raettonus swung his legs over the side of the bed, his stomach rumbled. “Brecan?” he called out, but there was no answer. He scowled. “Figures he’d be off screwing around…”
    He stood with a grunt and rubbed at his stomach as he shuffled over to his desk. His torn black tunic had been unceremoniously flung across a stack of books. He picked it up and slipped it over his head, ignoring the smell of death that clung to its fibers. He had dropped his belt and rapier carelessly on the floor on his way to bed the night before, and it took him a moment to locate them. Buckling his belt around his middle, Raettonus glanced out the window. The sun was full up; he had slept well past noon. It was going to set him back on his journey some, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.
    A worn leather bag lay against his bookshelf. He picked it up and began to fill it with jars and little velvet satchels of herbs. Slinging it over his shoulder, he took one last look around to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything before he left his tiny hovel of a home.
    Ti Tunfa was a small town that sat in the weedy plains of central Zylekkha. It was a neat, tidy place with cobblestone streets and square, whitewashed buildings with peaked roofs of crumbly red tile. Raettonus thought of it as being a very sterile place. There was little color in it and, though he’d lived there many years, he’d never seen the streets busy.
    Today was no exception. His boots pattered softly against the stones underfoot as he walked into the almost completely empty street. In this part of town, the buildings were cracked, decaying things that cried out for new coats of paint to hide the chips and mold dotting their exteriors. He didn’t bother to lock his door. No one would bother a broken shack at this edge of Ti Tunfa.
    “Hey, Raet!” called Brecan from down the street. Raettonus scowled and turned toward his voice. “I was wondering when you were gonna wake up! I was gonna wake you, but then I thought you might be angry, so I let you sleep instead.”
    Brecan was the first friend Raettonus had made in this alien land. The only friend, in fact—though “friend” was more of Brecan’s word than his. They had met when Raettonus had first entered Zylekkha. Brecan had attacked him.
    He was a unicorn, Brecan. That was what he said, at least, but in truth he was more like some strange perversion of a unicorn. He had the face and arched neck of a desert horse, true, but his mouth opened wider, and it was full of sharp fangs. His horn was short and slender and looked like blue-tinted glass, and he had a bristly mane of off-white hair that stood up along his neck. His forelegs were slim, also like those of a horse, save that his light-colored hooves were cloven and sharp. There was a gentle slope to his back—which, along with his large, leathery wings, had made him hard for Raettonus to ride at first—and his hindquarters were those of a white lion with a long, thin tail with a