Chapter 5: The Necromancer Arrives

That was it; he'd had enough. Moving with a speed that was Goddess-given, he snatched the man close again and threw his free hand into the air, begging the Goddess, "Give me your light!" Pale violet light flooded the immediate surroundings—and Sorin stared in shock at the man in his arms. He was beautiful.

He was a necromancer.

Sorin abruptly let him go, causing him to fall to the ground in an untidy heap.

The man glared furiously up at Sorin. "Paladin—" He suddenly stopped, his own eyes widening in surprise. "You—you're the bloody High Paladin."

Like all necromancers, he was marked by the streaks of gray and white in his hair—hair that was unusually long. It was black as high-quality ink where necromancy had not stripped the color away. His face was elegant, delicate, but the familiar way he carried his sword and wore his lightweight leather armor indicated the fragility was deceptive.

Sorin also noticed that he was too thin and the clothes he wore were in poor condition. He might not have been fragile, but Sorin doubted he would be a real threat if it came to it. "Yes, I'm High Paladin," he said cautiously, not certain what the necromancer would do when he clearly disapproved of Sorin's status. Habit alone drove him to extend a hand to help the man up.

The man's pretty mouth curled, and he knocked Sorin's hand away before standing up by himself. "I would say that makes you even more of an idiot," he said scathingly. "What are you doing in the middle of the Black Forest in the dead of night?"

"Why are you?" Sorin countered, and when it looked like the man was about to brush him off again, added, "As High Paladin, I have the right to ask such of anyone in this forest, and I am not obliged to answer any questions. But since I am responsible for the tumble we took, I will answer: I was here to find some solitude. Someone who mattered a great deal to me died today."

The man scowled at him, but after a moment, grimaced and said, "I travel this way because the Goddess bids it. That clearing with the tree—do you go there often?"

"As often as I am able, which is sadly rare," Sorin replied, confused. What did the necromancer mean by that comment about the Goddess? Necromancers did not hear Her. "Why do you ask?"

"There's a deep sadness there," he said, sounding distracted. His head turned, as though something had caught his attention. He went to retrieve his staff from the hill, body stiff with tension.

"Sadness?" Sorin asked, startled to hear a necromancer echo what he so often felt himself when he was in the Black Forest. How would a necromancer sense such a thing? The feeling of sadness had always largely come from the Goddess, and necromancers did not commune with Her, not that he had ever heard. It made the man's earlier comment about doing Her bidding all the more puzzling.

Being largely confined to the castle, Sorin had never encountered a necromancer. He had seen them at a distance upon rare occasion, but all his knowledge was based on what he had learned from others. It was well known that necromancers absorbed dead souls to feed their dark abilities, not so different from demons who fed upon the living. Sorin found it hard to believe that such dark creatures communed with the Goddess and heard Her Voice.

He winced when something twisted sharp and hot in his chest—another reprimand.

"What do you mean by sadness?" he pressed when he realized the necromancer was going to say nothing further.

The necromancer glared at him and tersely replied, "Something tragic happened there, something that is carved now into the land itself, especially that oak tree. It will never die, not while that sadness remains. Such is the power of death and the way in which people die."

Sorin frowned and reluctantly confessed, "I'm not certain I understand any of what you just said."

"I did not think you would," the necromancer said. "Shall we to your castle? The sooner I am done with my duty, the sooner I can leave."

"Your duty?" Sorin repeated, wondering when he would stop feeling like a fish flopping mindlessly about.

The necromancer shrugged irritably and looked away, hand restlessly clenching and unclenching around the staff. "I was returning east last night, to my home there, but I woke to Her suddenly urging me to journey west instead. As I drew closer to the royal castle, I came to accept that it is my destination. I can only assume some ghost there requires banishment." He rubbed briefly at his forehead, as though it ached.

Sorin's confusion only grew. "Her? The Goddess? That is the second time you've mentioned Her, but how can that be when you—" He barely drew his sword in time to block the staff that came flying at his head. Eyes blazed at him, sharp with violet light, and Sorin drew a harsh breath, badly shaken. Only those empowered by the Goddess had such eyes. How could a necromancer …

"If you dare to tell me I practice black magic, High Paladin, I will slit your throat for the ignorant fool you are," the necromancer hissed. "You grabbed me and forced us down this hill, yet not once has it seemed as though your notorious sense for demons and foul magic flared. Do I look or feel like I practice black magic?"

Sorin knocked the necromancer's staff away and sent him stumbling back, putting plenty of space between them. "You do not like me, necromancer, I comprehend that, but like or dislike, I am the High Paladin appointed by the Goddess—the very same Goddess who apparently has bestowed powers upon you, although I have never known Her to dabble in darkness. You will show me the respect I am due, or the only portion of the royal castle you will see is its jail. Do you understand me?"

"Perfectly, My Lord High Paladin," the man replied, smile a baring of teeth.