This just won’t do! I didn’t understand what had happened but, at some point, it was as if I’d been switched off from the outside world. I have never fainted. it's pretty safe to say that this loss of consciousness was no accident. It was the work of the stranger.
“Why am I lying on a pile of branches in some lair? And why’re you smiling in such a way?” I gasped in embarrassment.
The man didn’t even think about explaining himself. He only smiled more broadly. I felt so uncomfortable my throat suddenly dried up.
It’s bad enough that this brazen guy brought me who knows where, without having him strip. He was only wearing something like a jacket or a long coat with shiny silver buttons over his naked body. His black hair down to the shoulders had a sheen to it and framed his fine-featured narrow dark face. His dark chestnut eyes were shining impishly under thick eyebrows, and his full lips curved ironically.
To my regret, those lips were bit of all right. And his unclothed body under the jacket opened wide arrested my sight. Good that this shameless guy had done up his lower buttons.
“Did you have a good look?” he asked boldly.
Like a blow on the head. I just opened my mouth, gulping for air. A witty reply didn’t come to my mind.
“Did you swallow a dead moth?” I snorted, turning away and pretending I hadn’t noticed anything. And I absolutely didn’t stare at his six-pack abs.
I felt the stare of his dark chocolate eyes even with my skin.
“Where are we? Is this a bear’s lair?”
This last question sounded a bit too squeaky.
“Well, yeah. And what, you have something against bears?” the man asked unfazed.
“Why, why against?” I breathed out. “I don’t have anything against them.”
“Well, that’s just fine.” he smiled.
Obviously he was taunting me.
“The bear might come back!”
“Don’t worry, little one. There are worse things than a bear.”
He was still smiling strangely. And the way his mouth turned up at the corners seemed to me predatory.
“Well, I’m leaving,” I said confidently, but starting to get nervous and anxious.
“Stay here,” he said calmly, as if he already had a plan I didn’t know about. “I have delicious roast meat. And soon, we’ll have something to wash it down with.”
I didn’t even want to think about what he had in mind. Would there be a waiter who would come to serve us in the bear’s lair?
“Hey, are you nuts?” I asked. But my nose had already picked up the smell of roast meat, and I quickly changed my mind to run away.
After all, I hadn’t eaten since morning. The Academy no longer gave good-for-nothing graduates a bed in the hostel and meals. It was bad enough having nowhere to go, without having nothing to eat. So, I made up my mind: nothing terrible would happen if I stayed a little longer.
The man was observant enough to notice the change in my behavior. At once, he put three twig-skewers with pieces of meat on them on burdock leaves for me, then, sat down cross-legged beside me.
“What’s your name, little one?” he asked, while I was biting into the juicy and unbelievably delicious pieces of rather chewy meat.
“I’m not a little one,” I answered with a snarl, but not so categorically. Anyway, a full stomach isn’t a hungry one. Or something like that. “My name’s Angelina. And you, half-naked stranger?”
The man smiled, “I’m... Reive.”
“Reive?” I asked, stopping chewing for a moment and took a closer look at the man.
Bit of a coincidence, isn’t it? I took him for the Undead King,called Reive. But he can’t be the very... Or can he?
I tossed my head and seized another piece of meat. What stupid things came into my head when my brain lacked food! The Undead King died so long ago that I didn’t believe he’d ever existed. Well, how could one man raise a whole army of the dark forces? Nowadays, even the strongest necromancers couldn’t revive a single dead man.
Of course, necromancers weren’t much in fashion right now. Well, completely out of fashion. And all the resurrection invocations were destroyed half a millennium ago. But could someone restore the lost knowledge? No, they couldn’t. It wasn’t that simple. That was impossible.
“So, who’re you and where’re you from?” I continued the conversation.
Well, maybe, Reive wasn’t such boor? Anyway, he fed a girl. And he kept his hands to himself.
A pit opened in my stomach. As if I’d wanted him to get a little handsy. What a fool I am! I get turned on by two pieces of fatty meat. A man falls in love through his eyes, a woman through her ears. Am I a man?
“I’m a necromancer like you,” he answered calmly.
“Oh, really?” I was surprised. For some reason, I didn’t wonder how he figured out my field of study. Only high-level mages could see the color of a person’s anarel. Black’s for necromancers. You can’t mix them up. “Well, you’re as lucky as me then. Sorry for you.”
Frankly speaking, after this confession, I liked the man even more. As if we’d been two brothers in arms.
“Sorry for me?” he raised an eyebrow in surprise. I saw that he didn’t get it. “Are you kidding? I’m happy to be a necromancer.”
I frowned. He was nuts anyway. Who in their right mind would be happy for such a gift when they couldn’t get a proper job and make any friends? Nobody liked necromancers. In everyday life, we were almost useless. None of us could lay to rest the undead anymore. As for setting protective traps and totems to scare the uncalled dead, every healer or even an elementalist could do that.
“And what’s your specialty?” I decided to tone down my line of questioning, hoping that it’d become clear why Reive was happy.
“Specialty?” he didn’t understand.
“Well, yeah. A necromancer-philosopher, mentalist, psychologist, spell-weaver, maybe a historian, like me? A philosopher studies the attitude to necromancers in literature and art, a mentalist specializes in all sorts of troubles, and a spell-weaver’s the most in-demand profession. He can remove corruption spells both laid on purpose and those caused by chance at places where people have perished. And a historian studies the theory and the chronology of the events and knows the roots of the Ashgenrian language.
It seemed to me that there was laughter in the man’s eyes. He put his hand to his mouth and coughed, hiding his eyes.
“I’m a practician, little one. A practician necromancer.”
“Never heard of it,” I frowned. “What does it mean – a practician?”
“I mean I can do everything a necromancer has to do. Spells, the language and many other things you haven’t listed.”
“Come on,” I snorted. “By the way, maybe you’re a polyglot Master?”
A cold shiver ran down my spine when I looked into his dark eyes and saw the devil glint.
Had I guessed right? Was Reive a Master of Necromancy?
I gave Reive the once-over again. He looked around thirty. What kind of Master could he be? Masters are usually around fifty.
I calmed down and put aside the oily burdock with the wooden skewers. We’d eaten all the meat, and I was ready to forgive this self-satisfied man a little lie. If he wanted to make out he was clever, let him!
However, the next moment, a faint sly smile flashed on Reive’s face. He tenderly thrust out his hand to me, sliding his fingers along the back of my hand.
The hot touch licked me like fire, blowing a wave of sparks under my skin. I held my breath, feeling how his dark chocolate eyes drew me into their depths.
“Look, I can prove you I’m not kidding,” he said in a smooth, almost purring voice. “Trust me, I’m full of surprises.”
He moved closer. His warm caressing breath touched my skin. It slid along my cheek, making me feel the nearness of his lips. It came down to my neck, burning, carrying me into some whirlpool where I began to forget who and where I was.
“What are you doing?” I gasped and closed my eyes, feeling a strange calm just being next to him. As if he wasn’t a stranger at all, but a man whom I had known for a long time. As if he simply couldn’t do me harm.
“Nothing you wouldn’t like, little one,” he said, breathing softly. And I clearly heard how his voice broke at the words “little one”. How it became constrained and hoarse. It became hotter.
My mind was about to become alert again and my lips – to say something like “I’m not that kind of girl, get lost”, but at the next moment, something terrible happened. Something expelled the air from my breast and my throat compressed in a terrible spasm. My teeth clenched, and I almost bit my tongue.
My body started shaking uncontrollably.
Dark gods! Can’t you see I’m choking?!
At first, Reive didn’t understand what had happened. A black stain appeared on Angelina’s chest, encircling her lungs with long sticky tentacles. She was suffocating. The necromancer frowned in puzzlement. His sharp eyes were used to noticing changes in any situation, and they moved from the burdock where the meat lay, to the branches where the girl was shivering, and then all along the walls of the cave. Reive tried to grasp the reason for her seizure. He could find no reason. There wasn’t any poison in the food. The dry brushwood didn’t emit any black magic. And the shelter itself was an ordinary lair. It could mean only one thing: Angelina was ill. Regrettably, Reive wasn’t a doctor. He was a necromancer. If she kicked the bucket right now, the best thing he could do would be to make her into a nice clever undead girl. Say, a stryga. Or a lich. Though he didn’t even have enough ma
A pretty girl with long honey-brown hair. With large eyes twinkling like stars. And with a cruel smile which had overturned everything inside the necromancer. As if someone had ripped his stomach open, tearing out his bowels with a jagged knife. Her face transformed. Now there was a pale man who had grown grey before his time. He was quite young but had wrinkles under his dark green eyes. The man glared hatred and contempt at Reive, and it was this glare that moved Reive to murder. The necromancer raised his eyes, driving the delusions away and trying to return to reality. But completely unexpectedly, the nightmare became reality. The grey-headed man didn’t disappear. He was sitting on the brushwood beside Angelina with a ghastly smile. The girl didn’t notice him. “What, you didn’t expect to meet an old friend of yours?” Ulfricus said calmly, his dead green eyes burning into Reive. “I killed you,” the necromancer answered scarcely audibly, clenching h
Without raising her eyes to him, she continued, “My name’s Angelina Vallebour. I grew up in the family of a potter, Ilona Vallebour, in the province of Arc. But the woman who replaced my mother wasn’t my real mother. I knew that from childhood, but it wasn’t done to talk about it, even to this day. My real mother gave me to Ilona. And every month, she paid her large sums of money, so I would need for nothing. I shouldn’t have known who my parents were. But one day, I overheard the truth.” The girl paused. Then, she shot a nervous hunted glance at the necromancer. Reive stiffened feeling how the young graduate’s voice held his attention. It wouldn’t let him go. It forced him to keep listening to her story. “So, my real mother turned out to be a very influential woman. Duchess Myria Clarian Castro-Arcs. The owner and sovereign of the whole province of the Arc. The sister of His Majesty the King. She concealed my birth because I’m a child born out of wedlock.”
He’d began acting weird, as if his sight had suddenly unfocused. Then, his face reflected deep despair. I wanted to touch it and run my finger over the slightly down-turned corners of his eyes until his confident mocking expression returned, with the light predatory gleam in its very depth.I didn’t know what came over me but I raised my hand and touched his palm. It was so smooth and hot... For just a moment, an unjustified irrational anxiety exploded in my breast. Then, through the nerves on the tips of my fingers, little lightning bolts began to spark. The longer I didn’t pulling my hand away, the stronger this strange sparkling tension grew between us.Nevertheless, I could be satisfied with my action. The confusion and the oppressive misunderstanding disappeared from the man’s eyes. Now, his eyes were flaming. He was looking only at me. It seemed that it was about to burn me to ashes.No one had ever looked at me like that before. An
“Sure,” Reive nodded calmly, gesturing to the monster. “Put it here and go out. Wait outside and guard the entrance. And don’t you try to stick your nose in here. See how you’re scaring the lady!” The necromancer gestured with his hand and the horrid scream-producing zombie gave me a nod. A cold wave ran down my spine. For a second, a blood-red flame flashed in his eye sockets. Then, everything became as it was before. It occurred to me that this zombie was very lucky: he still had his eyeballs. Now they were yellow-grey, with black pupils. From a distance, they might seem quite normal. If they didn’t flash with such a hungry red light, of course. I desperately wanted to huddle against Reive. To seize his hand, to hide behind his back which didn’t shudder like mine from each movement of the zombie. Then, I realized: a man who could raise the undead was much more dangerous than the undead he raised. I shifted my gaze to
What’s happened?” the girl asked anxiously.The necromancer clenched his teeth. It seemed like he was going crazy.Was this a side effect of being raised from the dead? Or was it because of the damned locusts who’d been finishing him off for seven hundred years?“It’s okay. I just remembered something unpleasant,” he said, scarcely hearing himself. His gaze was focused a little to the left of the girl – to the place where once again his old enemy was standing. Damn Ulfricus Ayris, smiling repulsively.Yet, Angelina obviously didn’t see anyone.Reive slowly closed his eyes, mentally ordering the spirit to get lost. To the place ordained for traitors.“And where is the place for people like you, Reivy?” the ghost smirked.The necromancer opened his eyes, but that asshole Ulfricus didn’t disappear. Inste
The remains of the fire glowed drearily before my eyes. The sun was going down, and I was no longer thinking that I had spent the whole day with a stranger who was really strange. That I had almost slept with him in a bear’s lair. That I had almost died from a seizure. And now, I’m watching the dying embers with him in the company of an undead called Zomzom.For the first time in a long while, I was feeling calm and comfortable. Even though everything should have been the other way round, I felt good. I had already told Reive the history of my own birth. I told him something that no one else had ever heard from me during the five years I studied at the Academy. During my whole life! So, there was no point in holding back from telling what will happen.“In a month, there will be a royal wedding,” I uttered gloomily. “My birth father has found a new fiancée. And now, all the rich and high-born people are gathering in the
“It just can’t be,” I gasped, looking into the mocking dark-brown eyes. “The descendant of the very King of the Dead? Can I touch you?”I carefully put my hand on his knee.What was going on in my head? Something like “there’s a great necromancer’s blood in his veins! I’m touching a legend!”In fact, everything looked rather strange. Reive stiffened, and then he glanced sideways and said with a fixed smile:“Angel, you do remember I’ve got nothing on underneath this coat, don’t you?”I started back in fright, biting my lips nervously. True, he didn’t have anything...Oh, the Dark!The next moment, the necromancer shrieked with laughter. And it seemed to me that I blushed even more.“Don’t worry,” he added with a slightly guilty smile. “That I’m sitting here half-naked is my fault, not yours. So, I’m sorr