Dirge for a Necromancer by Ash Stinson Read Free Book Online

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    There was a gorgeously detailed painting a little farther along the wall showing the five High Guardians of the realm of Zylx. They stood together in the strange, half-completed edifice called the Center of Souls—ten ornate pillars ringed around a mosaic depicting the five-pointed star of Kurok. Each of the Guardians drew their power from one of those pillars; they used the pillar as a conductor for elemental power beyond imagining. Here in the middle was Guardian Bregdan, the unicorn Guardian, and there, beside him, was Guardian Dokkdan, the vampire Guardian; and there was Shidan, and beside him was Rhigdan, and there behind them all was Nekkdan. It was a handsome work of art with a great deal of attention paid to even the smallest details, from the feathers in Bregdan’s wings to the gleam on Nekkdan’s red scales.
    An enormous painting hung beside the one of the Guardians—a huge, panoramic view of what Raettonus could only assume was one of the wars between the Zylxian gods, though he’d be damned if he could tell which war. There were a slew of creatures at each side, charging into battle, and all of them without eyes. Kurok rode upon the enormous, white unicorn Guardian, Bregdan, with a sword in his hand and his long, purple hair streaming behind him, leading the charge for his side. Across from him was another elf—Ahkvaeriahn, Raettonus thought it was, though he couldn’t be sure—who rode upon a crocotta. There were dragons and sea serpents in their ranks, along with goblins, centaurs, wolves, and werewolves. Minotaurs charged against gryphons, selkies against will-o-wisps, unicorns against hippogryphs, boudas against lions, phoenixes against hippalectryons. There were creatures among them that Raettonus had never seen and couldn’t name, and creatures that had died out long ago. He saw Cykkus in his gleaming black armor, a poisonous aura about him; Kaeriaht with fire streaming from his hooves as he forced a spear through two elves, pinning them together; Virkki, running before Bregdan, an arrow lodged where one of his eyes should’ve been; Harkkan, with his flat, cruel face; and Kebuk, the Justice God, with his belly full of swords in a pool of his own blood.
    The painting was easily twenty feet across and fifteen feet high, and for a very long time Raettonus stood looking at it, studying all the gods he recognized and all the ones he had never heard of. He almost didn’t notice the lone figure at the top of the painting, floating above the battle in the empty space. When his eyes did come across it he let out a small utterance. He could’ve smacked himself; he felt so foolish for not realizing it all before.
    He heard a scraping sound behind him and wheeled around, suddenly coming face to face with a goblin. Without a thought, he drew his sword out of his belt and pointed it at the goblin. “Who’re you? What do you want? Why were you trying to sneak up on me?” Raettonus asked in quick succession. He touched the sword’s point to the goblin’s chest. “Best answer quickly.”
    The goblin raised his hands to show that they were empty. “Please,” he said, his voice heavy with the accent of his ancestral language. “I wasn’t sneaking up on you. I was merely curious as to who might be down here.”
    “And just what were you doing down here, skulking about in the dark, hm?” asked Raettonus, raising one eyebrow.
    “I live down here,” the goblin said. “I’m not armed. Can you please move that blade from off my chest? You can see that I don’t have a weapon.”
    Raettonus considered a moment. “Fair enough,” he said, withdrawing his rapier. The goblin was at least two feet taller than him with sharp nails and spikes growing up from his shoulders, but if it came to a fight Raettonus was certain he could beat him, even without his blade or any magic. Raettonus’ limbs were short, but they were thick with muscle, whereas the goblin’s were long, but thin and without definition.