Rise of a Necromancer Read online

  “I told no one, if that's what you're hinting at,” she replied, her tone lightly teasing despite the heavy subject. “I was noticeably pregnant when I first came here. You popped out not long afterward, looking just as much like Lucius as you resemble me. People put two and two together, Cerin. We said nothing. We didn't have to.” She nodded toward Thornwell. Under the early afternoon sun, people in thin clothing traversed well-worn dirt and grass streets between small wood cabins. A few of my father's fishing friends prepared a boat to take out for an evening catch. All were human; while dwarven and Celdic traders sometimes stopped by Thornwell to trade, my mother was the only Icilic to live outside of Glacia as far as we knew. “These people aren't looking for trouble. They like us because we take care of ourselves and cause no trouble. But Thornwell is a small town, and we're all poor here. No one's looking for trouble because they can't afford it. Outside of Thornwell, give no one your trust unless they earn it.”

  “I'm not planning on leaving.”

  “Aren't you?” My mother smiled at me and grabbed the two oars lying by her bare feet. “Let's go home, son. I have a surprise for you.”

  I smirked as she rowed us back to shore. “Your surprises aren't the best, mother. Being told I have a target on my head didn't brighten my day.”

  “That was necessary for you to know before I gave you the good surprise,” she said as an excuse.

  I waved when I glimpsed my father enthusiastically greeting us from the coast near our small home. Though he looked just as poor as the rest of us with his worn clothing, calloused fingers, and smudges of dirt on exposed skin, he was still a handsome sight. He kept his black hair as long as mine, and it swept by his upper neck just beneath a sharp jawline. He was tall for a human at just an inch under six feet. My mother was the same height, but she was short for an elf. Elves tended to be tall and thin while the short height of humans was only second to dwarves. My father often teased my mother about how if she had been any taller, he wouldn't have fallen in love with her. It was a lie, of course; my parents adored one another, but it was rare to see men with women taller than themselves.

  As our small boat reached the shore, my father reached out to grab it and tug it up onto land.

  “Well, aren't you the gentleman?” my mother teased. In response, my father held out a hand to help her out of the boat. My mother promptly ignored it and climbed out herself, taking bundles of fishing gear with her.

  My father glanced around at our belongings. “Get back out there,” he jested dryly. “You didn't catch anything.”

  “Wasn't anything to catch,” I replied, grabbing the small box of bait I'd taken out with us. Inside was a mound of moist earth and wiggling worms from our garden. As I buried the worms back in the shaded dirt and rinsed my hands in a nearby bucket of water, I overheard my parents talking as my mother situated our boat on the hangers she'd installed on the other side of our tiny cabin.

  “How'd it go?” my father asked.

  “Oh, you know,” my mother replied vaguely. “As expected. I spent most of the time talking and he spoke five words here and there. He gets his quietude from you, you know.”

  “Ah. Blame me,” my father jested lightly.

  “I will. It drives me crazy sometimes. I can never tell what's going on in that mind of his. I've become an expert at judging facial expressions.”

  My father chuckled in response. “Just ask him outright, Celena. He's always honest with you. Just takes a little prodding to open up, is all.”

  Quietly, I circled the house to enter it. My parents stopped conversing as they watched me enter the cabin and close the door behind me. Their murmuring picked up again once I was inside, but I could no longer ascertain their conversation. It amused me that they thought their prior conversation had gone unnoticed. Sometimes the best part of being quiet is that eavesdropping gets easier. People oddly don't expect one to hear noise if they rarely make it.

  Our tiny cottage was dark and filled with shadows until I brushed back the drapes and lit an oil lamp with a match before setting it back on the kitchen table. Its heat leaked into the vicinity, so I opened the window facing the ocean, allowing the scent of its salt and the coolness of its breezes to come through. Movement in the northern Servis caught my eye. A trading vessel cut through the calm ocean waters. Instead of the green sails of Chairel ships or the blue sails of the neighboring country of Hammerton, someone made this ship's sails out of the tanned hide of mammals. They decorated the ship's bow with the cranium and horns of a creature. Such things were signs of Glacia's ships. Now that I knew more about my connection to them, my eyes bored into the side of the vessel as it came to dock. The squeak of the front door finally got me to break my glare, and I plopped down in a chair at the kitchen table.

  My father smiled warmly at me as he walked in and tossed a small box on the table. “Got something for you.”

  I leaned forward and pulled the box toward me. As soon as I lifted its lid, the welcoming aroma of fresh tea leaves hit my nose. “Thank you. Did you trade for these?”

  “Of course,” he replied. “Nadiya told me today that she has a section of her garden dedicated to your favorite tea. So I told her I catch her favorite fish just to trade for it.” He chuckled. “Oh, and Ela asked about you.”

  I thought of our neighbor Nadiya's fair-haired daughter and asked, “Why?”

  As my father laughed at my perplexity, my mother sighed. “Let him be clueless, Lucius,” she mused. “If he gets into any trouble at all, it won't be over girls. They'd have to be hardheaded and persistent just to get through to him.”

  “I'm eleven,” I protested dryly. “Don't even start.”

  My father laughed again at my dry humor and collapsed heavily in the chair opposite me. “What's wrong with Ela?”

  “Nothing's wrong with her,” I replied vaguely.

  “Lucius,” my mother warned, glaring at him.

  “I'm curious, Celena,” he replied with a smile. “My son is growing into a man. I want a glimpse into the type he'll become.”

  “He's eleven,” came her retort, repeating my own words.

  “That number means nothing,” my father argued. “His voice already changed.” Turning his attention back to me, he prodded, “Ela's been batting her eyelashes at you for almost a year. Every time I visit that family I have to tell her how you're doing, even if nothing ever changes.”

  “That's...weird,” I decided.

  Even my mother chuckled at that. “What's weird about it?” she inquired, sitting on their bed across the open floor to take off her boots.

  “Why wouldn't she ask me herself?”

  My mother raised an eyebrow as she exchanged glances with my father. “Some girls lack in confidence, Cerin,” she replied after a moment.

  “Then there's your answer.” My eyes met my father's. “There's nothing wrong with being fragile, but fragile people don't catch my attention.”

  “You're wrong, Celena,” my father said, leaning back in his chair and clasping his hands behind his head. “He will get into trouble because of girls. He's after the fiery types.”

  My mother chuckled before it evolved into a worried sigh. “Gods, Lucius, don't make this harder than it has to be.”

  Father sobered. “Sorry. I'm just having good fun, is all.” His fingers tapped a random tune on the wooden table as we waited for my mother to join us. When she did, she brought over her lute and an envelope. The envelope had a broken red wax seal on its flap. She set the envelope on the table so its label faced downward and then sat in the chair next to my father.

  Mother bit her lip as she stared at me a moment. “How do you feel about what you learned today?”

  “Overwhelmed.” After my parents exchanged glances, I thought of their earlier conversation about my lack of words and added, “I don't know what more you want me to say. There are people who want me dead for things outside my control. I don't want to hide in Thornwell forever, but I mentioned learning to fight, and you told m
e to wait.”

  “Remember when we talked about your options for the future?” my father asked, glancing up at me as he drew invisible designs on the table. “You said magic interested you.”

  “Many are interested in learning magic,” I replied. “Few get to.” Magic was a commodity in Chairel, only taught at the Seran University of Magic to the west for exorbitant amounts of gold. Only the rich could afford an education there, and the rarity of magic and corresponding services ensured that educated mages only became richer. My mother often told me that given my pale skin and black hair, I would likely learn one of the elements of air, life, or death. Because Chairel and its neighboring countries banned death magic, necromancy wasn't an option for me. But there were other elements and the lesser schools of alteration and illusion. Because the Icilic were a magical race, I was likely magically literate. None of that mattered if we couldn't afford a Seran education. And from where I sat, I could see the entirety of our house and all our belongings. We weren't swimming in gold.

  My mother played a few notes on her lute before picking up the envelope and tossing it over the table at me. I frowned, but I picked it up and turned it around. The return address immediately caught my eye.

  Seran University of Magic

  Office of Sirius Sera

  100 University Court

  The tune my mother played on her lute picked up its pace in excitement. I opened the flap of the envelope and pulled out the letter.

  Celena I'lluminah:

  The Seran University of Magic has received your application and fees for your son, Cerin Heliot, and has considered its merits. We are pleased to inform you that Cerin passes the entry requirements, and we believe he would be a good fit for our magic program. To enroll Cerin in the 407-408 school year, please send 10,000 gold pieces and the enclosed entry form with a trusted messenger. Alternatively, you may send the gold with Cerin when he travels to Sera for the oncoming school year. Dormitories open on the 1st of Red Moon. (The Seran University may not be held responsible for any lost, stolen, or misplaced dues, nor is the entity required to take in children sent to Sera without entry fees.)

  The 10,000 gold includes the two-year pre-magic programs and dormitory fees. We will send a second bill in New Moon 409 to collect for the first two years of magic training. Please see enclosed list of elements and corresponding fees so you may financially prepare. Life magic training automatically includes surgeon's classes unless you opt out (at an additional 25,000 gold per year). If your son is a dual caster, fees will increase according to both elements. If you'd like to opt out of particular schools of magic or education for dual elements due to financial concerns or otherwise, we will send forms to this address giving you these options.

  Thank you for your application. We look forward to receiving Cerin's entry fees and welcoming him here in Red Moon.

  Sirius Sera

  I folded the letter and put it back in the envelope without a word. The lute's playful tune slowed before all went silent. My mother's hopeful face faded. “Aren't you happy?” she questioned.

  “We can't afford this,” I protested. “It's ten thousand gold for pre-magic training. That's more gold than I ever expect to see in my lifetime, and all just to line their pockets. That's gold out the window before I learn a single spell.”

  “You are pale, son,” my father spoke up, nodding toward my bare forearms that glistened in the flickering glow of the oil lamp. “You are a fantastic candidate for life magic. And you know life mages are the richest of all. It may cost us dearly now, but it will set you for life.”

  My heart ached at the hopeful, desperate tone with which he'd said it. “Did you see how much they charge for surgeon's training? Even if I learn life magic, it will render you both destitute before I make any of that gold back. And that's if I learn it.” I flipped a hand out to call attention to where their marital bed was on the opposite wall of my own. Our house was essentially a one-room shack. “We're already destitute. I will fish for my gold. I enjoy it and I do it well. I couldn't enjoy learning magic if I had to think about you two here at home struggling.”

  “What do you feel toward the Icilic, Cerin?” my mother asked. It was a seemingly random question, but she asked it with purpose as she lightly fingered the polished wood of her lute. “Especially now that you know the truth of their culture?”

  “Anger,” I said. “That's what I feel.”

  “So...” she trailed off and met my eyes again. “How would you feel if you could learn magic using their gold? What if those who want you dead had to pay for you to train in magic and better your life when they only want to end it?”

  I was quiet for a few moments. “How is that possible?”

  “I told you your Icilic grandfather is rich, Cerin,” my mother replied. “He taught me everything there was to know about his business, including its finances. He's as racist against the humans as any Icilic. When I left, I relieved him of some of his endless gold to help support the grandson he'd never see.” A mischievous smile brightened her pale features. “The Icilic are naturals with life and death magic. The chances of you learning life is high. We are destitute. But if you become a healer, you could change that. We wouldn't have to live in Thornwell. We could live somewhere far away from the northern coast where the Icilic still search for me. It might not even matter by then if you tell others your true nature because you could afford to hire mercenaries to guard you.”

  “You've thought this through,” I murmured.

  “We would never force you to do anything you don't want to do,” she replied. “I've kept the gold safe all these years hoping magic would interest you. You said it did, so I hope you're not angry with me for setting all of this up without asking you. I wanted to surprise you. I have set nothing in stone yet. If you're interested, I'll send the gold with you when you go. Otherwise, we can forget all about this and put it behind us.”

  My parents were so excited for me that I felt the energy of it in the air. The only qualm about the plan I'd had was rendered nonexistent. I'd never considered learning magic because the option never felt obtainable. Now that it was, I jumped at the chance.

  A smile of excitement lifted my lips, and my mother's face brightened as she clapped with glee, anticipating my next words. “I guess I'll be going to Sera.”

  Two

  A full moon after agreeing to train in Sera came the day to leave Thornwell. I felt jittery with nerves even though I wouldn't see the famous city of magic for two-thirds of a season, for that was how long it would take to get there. My parents couldn't come with, for they planned on overworking themselves to save up additional gold while I was away. If I proved to be a natural with life magic as they surmised, my education would be the most expensive of all. As rich as my Icilic grandfather was, my mother hadn't stolen all his gold, and what she had taken wasn't limitless. As I watched them rush around our tiny home ensuring I had everything packed to leave with the waiting trading caravan, I felt a rush of gratefulness rise in my chest.

  “Thank you,” I said. Like all the words lucky enough to escape my lips, they were low and traveled over the rough edge that had belonged to my voice ever since it changed from a boy's to a man's.

  My mother stopped searching through a cabinet and glanced back. “Did you say something?”

  “I said thank you,” I repeated, looking away when her silver eyes humbled with realization. “For setting all this up. For using this gold for my education instead of just buying a bigger house.”

  “Oh, Cerin,” my mother blurted, hurrying over and grabbing me in a tight embrace. Her hair exuded the fresh saltwater of the ocean even though she hadn't yet been in her boat today. “You're welcome.” She turned her face and kissed me noisily on the cheek. “I love you more than the world. I'm so anxious that you're leaving us because I'll miss you like crazy.” She pulled back and held me at arm's length. “But I'm also so happy that you'll get to experience things I never have. Sera is a magnificent city, Cerin. You will
write and tell me all about it.”

  “You'd better write and tell us about everything,” my father piped up from the kitchen table, where he piled folded clothing back into a satchel after checking its contents. “If all goes well, you'll be away for years. We don't want to miss it even if we can't be there. Successes, failures, friends...”

  “Girls,” my mother added with a smile since father avoided saying it.

  “You shouldn't be looking,” I teased my father. “You have the best one right here.”

  Father laughed at my quip and walked over to grab me in a hug. “I sure do. I'll miss you out on those waters, son, but what you'll be learning is much more exciting. That's why you have to write us. Bundle up all the letters and send them once a season.”

  “I gave you two coin purses,” my mother cut in from over his shoulder as he finally separated from me. “One is spending money if you need it. Use that to send the letters with a messenger. In the other purse is your tuition. Don't lose it.”

  “Losing it was the first thing I planned on doing.”

  My mother smirked and reached over to ruffle my hair. “Every once in a while you loosen up and show a little bit of that sarcasm you get from your father, and I'm not sure if I want to be overjoyed or strangle you.”

  “You haven't strangled me yet,” my father mused, picking up the bag of my belongings from the table and carrying it over to us. “I don't know why you'd suddenly take it out on our poor boy.”

  I smiled at their bickering. “I'll miss you both.”

  “You sure will,” my mother teased, shaking my shoulder lovingly and kissing me on the cheek again as she led us toward the door. “We're the only people you actually speak to, and even then we don't hear enough out of you.” She opened the door and led my father and me outside until the heat of High Star bombarded us. She added, “Remember: talk, Cerin. Open up to people. Make friends. It'll make the next few years easier on you.”

  “I'll try,” I begrudgingly agreed.

  We walked together over dirt roads that stunk of gutted fish and to the grassy hill that inclined to the plains north of the Seran Forest. Just over the crest of waving grasses, the heads of two horses came into view before the rest of their bodies and the wagon they pulled. A dwarven woman held the reins, sitting on the wagon while chewing the end of a blade of grass. Long blonde hair hung over one shoulder in a side braid, and hazel eyes looked over my mother with intrigue. They then moved to my father and settled on me.