Kelim was suddenly struck by how much taller than himself the Necromancer was, and how very short he suddenly felt standing in front of Quaraun.

Kelim felt as though he was closing up like a telescope growing smaller and smaller the more the Necromancer stared at him.

"You're uhm. . . I. . . uhm . . . "

"I'm busy and you're interrupting me, that's what I am."

"I . . . you're uhm. . ."

"Spit it out, I haven't got all day."

"You're. . . you're. . . what are you?"

"Which what am I are you referring to? My being an Elf? Or my being a transvestite?"

"Uhm. . ."

"Doesn't matter. Either one, I don't like you talking about."

"Okay. Uhm. . ."

"You don't get many words out do you?"

"Uhm. . . I. . . no. . ."

"You're a Pixie."

"Yes?"

"Don't you know?"

"I. . ."

"Xandit Winsnot the Goblin sent you didn't he?"

"Uhm, yeah, kind of. . ."

"Kind of? Either he did, or he didn't."

"Well. . ."

"You are Kelim?"

"Yes. . . I. . ."

"You're in love with Finderu's daughter."

"Yeah. . . uhm. . . sort of. . ."

"Don't waste my time, Boy, what do you want from me?"

"Well. . . I. . . uhm. . . I. . . well. . .I. . . I thought. . . you know. . . that. . . uhm. . . maybe. . . people are saying you. . . I was just thinking. . . you know. . ."

"Spit it out, Boy, I haven't got all day. I am rather busy and I do hate being bothered, especially by Faeries. Faeries are so annoying. I can't stand them, they're nothing but trouble, every last one of them."

The Necromancer sounded increasingly more and more annoyed, which frightened Kelim even farther.

"People around the village are saying you grant wishes and stuff for people who desperately need your help," Kelim said, now speaking as fast as an auctioneer, "I guess I just came to find out if it was true."

"Grant wishes? What am I, a Leprechaun? I don't grant wishes."

"They say you lived with the Di'Jinn and you got powers like a. . .like. . .a. . ."

"I am a Wizard of the Di'Jinn Order. We are the masters of magic. The most powerful Wizards in the world. None compare to us, not in power or skill."

"Aren't the Di'Jinn all dead?"

"Yes. I killed them. I'm the last one."

"But you can't grant wishes?"

"That we are capable of making the impossible possible is not wish granting, it's us doing our jobs. You want to call it granted wishes, so be it. What is you damned wish?"

"I. . . uhm. . . how many wishes do. . . uhm. . . we. . . I. . . get?"

"How many wishes?"

"Uhm. . . er. . ."

"You certainly have trouble talking don't you?"

"Can I have three wishes?"

"What do you think I am? A genie in a bottle?"

"Uhhhh. . .."

"You can have a many wishes as you can afford. But I'm not cheap. Not many people can afford me."

"I have to pay you?"

"What? Do you think I just hand out magic potions for free?"

"I. . . uhm. . . I never thought about it."

"No one ever does. Everyone expects us Wizards to be making spell and crafting magic items. No one ever wants to pay us for the work now do they. And people wonder why my head collection gets added to so often."

"Head collection?"

"You buy my services and then decide you don't want to pay me, I'll take your head instead. You'll never cheat another wizard again, that's for sure."

"Do you cast love spells?"

"I cast all spells."

"Even love spells?"

"Anything you want, I can do. I didn't earn the title of being the world's most powerful wizard for nothing, you know."

"But you specialize in Di'Jinn magic?"

"Yes."

"Isn't that wish granting?"

"No."

"Well, what is Di'Jinn magic then?"

"For your information, I make bottles for putting things in. You got an enemy you don't want around any more, I got a bottle you can put them in. Keep them in your pocket and they'll never bother you again, and you'll always know where they are. Anything you want to keep safe and out of your hair, I can make a bottle for you to put it in. If you have a dragon bothering your village and you are too kindhearted to kill it and want to relocate, I can make you a dragon bottle. . ."

Quaraun pulled a small heart shaped bottle from the beaded heart shaped bag that hung from his belt. On the tiny glass heart was the shape of a pocket watch with a brass dragon encasing it. Quaraun held the small heart-shaped glass vial filled with shimmering green goo up into the light.

"Is there a dragon in there?"

"Yes. PocketLich. I'd show her to you but she is as big as a mountain. I can not release her indoors. There'd be no house left if I did that. Crash right out through it, she would."

"Why do you have a dragon in a bottle?"

"I like dragons," The Pink Necromancer continued. "They make good pets and even better weapons. I've had this one for decades. I got her from Fire Mountain. She's a DracoLich now. I turned her into a Lich before putting her in the bottle. She does all my killing for me so I don't have to. Keeps her well fed and I don't have to worry about what to do with the bodies. Dragons, Liches, Demons, Genies. . .anything you have, you want put in a bottle, I can make you the bottle for holding it. That's what I do, Pixie."

Quaraun put the small glass bottle of shimmering green goo back in his bag.

"Of course it's not limited to bottles. Spells can be fixed onto cards and candles. Most any object. For my own use I keep them in wands. Easier to use that way. I make boxes and bags as well."

He pulled a small vial that resembled a perfume bottle filled with icy blue liquid, from his pink bag.

"I can even take an entire village, houses, people, trees and all and lock it away in a bottle. Let time forget about them. Like they never existed. Wiped off the face of the earth forever. Until such a time as I decide to let them go free. Just like I did to the Moon Elves."

Quaraun put the small glass bottle of icy blue liquid back in his pink sequined heart shaped bag of holding.

"That is my specialty. But I'm a Mage as well. I study all classes of wizardry, witchcraft, sorcery, and hoodoo. I don't think, there's anything I can't do. At least there's nothing I have tried yet, that I ever failed at."

"You do sorcery?"

"Yes."

"That's forbidden."

"So's Necromancy and I'm a Necromancer."

"You're The Pink Necromancer."

"I am."

"You're not a Guild member are you?"

"No. I'm not."

"Finderu will be furious."

"Leader of The Guild? He's already furious. Price on my head gets higher every day."

"You're wanted by The Guild?"

"I'm The Guild's number one most wanted criminal."

"You sound proud of that."

"I am. While they've hunted and murdered every last Sorcerer and Necromancer on the planet, I continually elude them and now I hunt them."

"The Swamp Hag is one of The Guild's board members."

"Ghirardelli?"

"Yeah."

"She was."

"Then what are you doing here visiting her?"

"Expanding my head collection."

"What?"

"And you say you desperately need my help?" The deathly pale Elf titled his head and raised an eyebrow. "I am somewhat surprised at the thought of a Pixie seeking help from an Elf."

"W. . . why?"

"Last I knew, Pixies didn't like Elves and wanted us all dead. If fact you were all quite overjoyed at the extinction of my people."

"I. . . that. . . it. . . was before my time. . ."

"And Pixies aren't known for needing help from anyone. Their Fairy Glamour tends to serve all their needs."

"Well, yes." Kelim hunched his shoulders and ducked his head down in a stance that said 'Don't hit me.' "I. . .uhm. . .I. . .I don't do. . . uh. . . I don't know. . . magic. It's. . .it's not. . .not a skill I have. . .it's. . ."

"Hmh. Talking doesn't seem to be a skill you have either."

"Well, yeah. . .that's. . .that's. . .that's kind a. . .kind of the problem, why. . .why I'm here. . .I. . ."

The Moon Elf stood back from the door a bit and gestured his jewelled hand for Kelim to step inside. Kelim hesitated a moment, but then decided it was now or never, and stepped into the mossy snow covered hovel.

"I have work to do. I kind of need to do it. I'll do it while you talk. Considering how long it takes you, if I wait for you to finish a sentence, I'll never get anything done. Go sit down over there and see if you can tell me what you want in less than an hour."

The inside was neat and smelled of fresh pine, green herbs, lavender, and cedar wood chips, it didn't look worn down and neglected like the outside or the rest of the area. He took a closer look at his host, and noticed that even though he had pure white hair, his skin wasn't wrinkled, almost like he was hanging in between young and old. Kelim the Toadstool Pixie couldn't decide which he was.

Quaraun picked up the cursed soul eater sword and stared at it, as if wondering where to put it.

"You know, storing spells in swords, like wands is useful as well," Quaraun said, more to himself than to Kelim. "Pity, this sword is too big for me. It was man for a large male Human by the size of it. It's utterly useless to me if it's too big for me to wield."

"Where's uh. . .what's her name. . .

"Who?" Quaraun blinked, staring at Kelim as though he'd forgotten the Pixie was there.

"The old swamp hag that lives here?"

"Ghirardelli?" Quaraun set the sword back down.

"Yeah, that's the one. Never can remember how to say her name."

"She's decapitated in the other room."

"Decapitated?"

"Hmm?"

"You said she was decapitated."

"Yes. And?"

"Are you sure that's the right word?"

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

"Ah. Did I say the wrong word?" Quaraun thought about it for a moment. "Decapitated," he muttered to himself.

"You . . . you . . . said . . . she's . . . uhm . . . she's. . ."

"Incapacitated. Yes. That's what I meant to say. She's temporally incapacitated at the moment."

"Incapacitated?"

"Yes." Quaraun picked up the soul eater sword again and stared at it for a bit, than tossed it over his head, behind him. "Worthless piece of garbage," he muttered.

"It looks like a pretty good sword to me."

"It isn't."

"You sure?"

"Do you question my ability to judge a good sword from an inferior sword?"

"Uh. . . n. . . no. . . I. . . I just. . ."

"I suppose decapitated IS a better word."

"Is it?"

"Yes. Also her sword is utterly useless to me."

"Her sword?"

"Yes. It supposedly collects souls, but all it does is eat souls. Now I ask you what good is a sword that EATS the souls it collects?"

"I don't know."

"Of course you don't. Worthless piece of junk."

"But. . ."

"She can't speak to you right now."

"No?"

"No. Do you realize the only thing that soul does is demand to be fed?"

"Fed?"

"Yes. And people are scared of it. Do you know why?"

"No."

"Of course you don't. Why would you?"

"Than why. . . why did you. . . ask?"

"I was talking. You interrupted my conversation, so now I am going to talk to you."

"But. . ."

"People are scared of that damned sword because they are idiots, that's why."

"Idiots?"

"Yes. Idiots just like you."

"How am I. . ."

"You are an idiot. Do you know how I know you are an idiot?"

Kelim opened his mouth to answer but didn't have time to say anything before Quaraun continued.

"You, my dear boy, are an idiot because you are here. In Ghirardelli's house."

"But. . ."

"You know this is Ghirardelli's house and you know that I am not Ghirardelli. I have seen you around town and I can see into your mind. You know that Ghirardelli lives alone and I do not live here. Rumours compel you to be here, Kelim. You know that Ghirardelli has no friends, is visited by no one, is laughed at by everyone in the town, even by you. I know by you, because I saw you. I was at the tavern and saw you and your Goblin friend laughing and teasing and bulling her when you saw others doing the same. Mindless cattle who follow the herd. Idiots all of you. I saw you stop to listen to her words. You know that she warned you of a great evil, the worst evil, The Pink Necromancer, that he was here during The Great Gale of 1846, and he would come back. Would back to kill her and you and every one in The Godforsaken Town. . ."

"City. . ."

Quaraun stopped monologuing and glared at the incompetent fool, who was stupid enough to interrupt him while he was pontificating. Foolish enough, not only to interrupt him, but to correct his speech. Quaraun momentarily contemplated ripping the Pixie's head off than thought better or it and continued his monologued speechifying.

"Yes. City. Every one in The Godforsaken City. She has been warning you of it for the past three years and yet, here I am, and here you are. Talking to be like nothing is wrong. Like a lamb to the slaughter, to troddle on into the spiderweb."

"Troddle? Is that a word?"

"It is if I say it is," Quaraun snarled. This was the second time in under a minute that the foolish Pixie had thought to correct his words.

"Oh."

"Would you fear a talking sword that demanded you feed it souls?"

"Probably. . ."

"Of course you would. But why? The sword can't move on it's own. It can't possess you. It won't even die if you don't feed it. Do you know why?"

"No, sir, I don't."

"Because it's a sword. It's not alive to begin with. It sits there tossing threats at me, claiming all sorts of things. But it's all lies. Lies. Lies. And more lies. That sword can't do one damned fucking thing. It just relies on people to be too scared to think rationally, and do it's bidding. So long as no one discovers the sword has no power to do anything, it can get everyone around it to obey it's every whim. All the sword does it talk and eat. Useless as fuck. What a waste of a good curse."

"Curse?"

"Yes. Some one cursed that sword. Trapped the sword of a knife salesman in it. He's lonely so he tries to scare people into doing things for him, so he won't be alone. I've already got a cursed map and two cursed daggers, I don't need a cursed sword."

"Can I have it?"

"Be my guest." Quaraun waved his hand towards the sword, motioning for Kelim to take it. "I don't need it or want it."

Kelim cautiously crept across the room to where the sword had landed and picked it up.

"Hey! . . . It's. . . uhm. . . It's . . . covered in . . . in blood."

"Yes, I had to test it out. See if it actually drew souls out of people, like it's name implied."

"Does it?"

"No. That's why it's useless for me."

"Whose blood is on it?"

"Ghirardelli's"

"The Swamp Hag's?"

"Yes."

"Is she dead?"

"Decapitated."

"Did you kill her for this sword?"

"No. I had other reasons."

"But. . ."

"You'll have to do with talking to me. How may I help you?"

"Where's the. . . uh. . . uhm. . . the.."

"The what?"

"The uhm. . . uhn. . . "

"Do you talk like this with everyone?"

"I. . . err. . . uhm. . ."

Quaraun pulled a gold throne from his bag and flung himself onto it's fuchsia velvet pillows.

"The Goblin was right, you really do have issues talking. You'll never get a woman if you can't get to the end of a sentence."

"The Witch."

"The what?" Quaraun wasn't really paying attention to Kelim. He had other things on his mind. Important things. Like finding Finderu. Killing Finderu. Beheading Finderu. Adding Finderu's head to his collection of mage heads.

"The Witch."

"The Witch? Oh! Yes. The Swamp Hag. What of her?"

"You said she was decapitated."

"Yes. I did say that didn't I? Slip of the tongue. Bad habit. Would you like to join her?"

"Join her?"

"Yes. There's always plenty of room for more souls and heads. Heads and souls. Souls and heads. One can never have enough one or too many of either."

"Where's the Witch?"

"Ghirardelli?" Quaraun looked around the room as though looking for something, then looked back to Kelim. "Oh, I left her laying around here somewhere."

"Can I talk to her?"

"I thought you wanted to talk to me?"

"You. . . you're. . . uhm. . . you're. . . uh. . ."

"I'm what?"

"Well. . ."

"Spit it out, boy."

"Mean."

"Mean? You think I'm mean?"

"Well. . . uh. . . yeah."

"Mean? Am I mean?" Quaraun asked himself, not Kelim.

"And. . . scary too."

"I'm scary? Hahaha! Oh. That's hilarious."

Quaraun stopped laughing and became serious again.

"You could try talking to her. Won't do much good. She won't answer you. You'll definitely need a Necromancer to help you communicate with her. I suppose it's a good thing I'm here then."

Quaraun, pulled a small red bottle from his pocket and held it up to the light, peering inside.

"What do you want, Kelim? Spit it out."

"Well, I kind of need a wish granted, sort of. . ."

"A wish? Are we back on the topic of wishes again?"

"Well, yeah."

"From Ghirardelli? Or me?"

"Well. . .you. . .people around town talk, you know and they say. . .they say. . .well. . .you're like. . .like the most powerful wizard on the planet. . ..and. . ..and I have pr. . .problems and people told me. . .I. . .I. . .I should. . .I should come to you while you was here, because you travel and. . ."

"So, you've come to make a wish? Throw a penny in the wishing well? Maybe you should be wishing for the ability to speak." Quaraun chuckled at his joke. "A moment ago you desperately needed my help, now you seek to make a wish. Make up your mind, Boy. Help and wishes. Wishes and help. Help or wish. Wish or help, what do you want?"

"Well. . .uhm. . .I . . . uh. . . how are they different?"

Quaraun's pink pupiled pale blue eyes widened, then narrowed as he scrutinized the foolish young Pixie. Quaraun slipped out of his gold plated throne and paced around the room straighten things, moving nick-knacks, and cleaning as he spoke.

"Wishes granted are very different from help given. Help, well, help, helps you. Granted wishes are rarely helpful. In fact, more often than not, wishes granted usually make things worse."

"How?"

"How? Wishes must be carefully worded, because what you ask for is what you will get. The problem is word meanings are very important, but the average person is simply too retarded to understand the meanings of any words they use. They say 'love' when they mean 'lust'. They say 'sleep' when they mean 'sex'. If you wish to sleep with a woman, than you shall. You will sleep. As in rest in an unconscious state. You will NOT have sex with her. And she'll probably stab you in your sleep and steel your gold, so you'll end up a dead virgin. Whereas if you ask for help, I could simply give you advice on how to seduce the women and you'd end up having sex. The power of dictionary definitions of words, is a powerful thing that incompetent fools oft overlook. What about men who say they want love, but all they really want is to rape the woman? That's all most love spells are you know, and excuse to rape. Humans don't know the meaning of the word love, they use it loosely and so incorrectly. But unlike other mages who give you dubious consent to rape a girl and call it a love spell, my spells deal with ACTUAL love, not rape, not sex. Use your word incorrectly and you'll be doomed by the curse of being loved to death, by a woman you actual hate and lusted for. Do you use words correctly?"

"I. . . uhm. . ."

"Perhaps you should first learn how to talk. One who lacks the ability to speak properly, certainly can't be expected to use words properly. You don't even have enough knowledge in how to talk properly, to try to interrupt my pontificating."

"You're what?"

"Pontificating. It's a word. It has meaning."

"What's it mean?"

"It means I'm an arrogant, self centred prick who likes to use flowery big words, for the sole purpose of attempting to annoy and confuse people around me, simply to prove that I am smart and they are stupid, and I have proved one thing already."

"What's that?"

"You ARE stupid."

"You're mean."

"No. You being unable to face the truth, is your problem, not mine. Me telling you the truth is not me being mean. You want a wish and wishes rely on bringing words to life. If you can't even say the words you want to wish for, how do you expect to say the correct words correctly. When it comes to wishes, correct word usage is important. A slip of the tongue, a cough, or a sneeze, and you could find yourself turned into a rabbit. . ."

"Than I'd have ears like you."

"Hmmmm. No trouble saying that did you? You're someone who gets by, by bulling others. You don't know how to talk to anyone, because you are too busy being a bully."

"I'm not a bully!"

"No? The fence out front of this house had other things to say about that."

"The fence?"

"I'm a wizard, Kelim, but more than that, I am an Elf. I can feel the spirits, souls, thoughts, minds, and energies of every object. Every plant. Every animal. Every rock."

"And the fence? You hear the thoughts of the fence?"

"Yes. I hear the thoughts of the fence. I heard the thoughts of the fence. It's fear of you. It's sadness over your actions against it."

"How can a fence feel fear? It's just wood. Dead wood from a dead tree."

"Things dead, were once alive and I am a Necromancer. A dead piece of wood, was once a live tree. It's soul haunts it's dead body. That fence was made from the corpses of many dead trees. The souls of those dead beings, hover around the fence. Weeping. Crying. Not understanding why the axe cut them. Hurt them. Robbed them of their life. For what? To made into a fence. It took them decades to come to terms with that. To come to terms with the fact that they were murdered, so that their bodies could be used to build a fence. They finally came to terms with it, and then shit head, little vandalizing hoodlums like you come along and break them up. Smash them apart. Why? Because you are a vile, evil, uncaring piece of shit, who thinks vandalism private property is fun and funny, oh, but I'm just a child, your parents should teach you better, your a vandalizing piece of shit, and you ought to die for that."

"Die? For what? What did I do? I didn't do nothing!"

"For how deplorably you treated an old woman. You neighbour. A member of your community. A woman, who needed your help. A woman who roamed the streets of your town, begging every one, any one for help, and what did you do? You laughed at her. You pushed her. You kicked her when she was down. Than just to pour salt into the wound, you trespassed onto her land and broke up her belongings. YOU Kelim are the one who is mean. YOU! And you have the gall to come to her and ask for help? Why should she help a piece of shit like you?"

"I need. . ."

"You NEED? What about HER needs? She felt the need to be protected. That's why the fence was there. She was scared. And she asked the people in your town for help, and when she did, you fucking bastards turned on her. Laughed at her. Hurt her. And then, you, YOU specifically, Kelim, YOU came here and smashed up the fence she hid behind. The fence she put up to protect herself. You violated her feeling of safety. The fence told me what you did and it told me how terrified she was by your actions. You gave no thought to her feelings. You thought only of yourself, even now."

"I. . ." Kelim looked around. He was scared of the Necromancer and his ability to see things Kelim had done in the past. "I. . ."

"You are caught and you don't know what to say, because you never expected anyone saw what you did and would tell on you. You thought your sins were hidden. Nothing you do under the shadow of night, can never be revealed by the light of the day. Be sure your sins will find you out."

"I. . ."

"You want help with a wish. Yes. I know. But you don't know the differance between help and wishes. Wishes are very different from help. You need to decide which one it is you want. I can grant your wishes or I can help you. I can do both or either or neither. You don't see them as being different?"

"Well, no! Why should I?"

Quaraun walked slowly around the Pixie, examining his shimmering green and gold butterfly wings.

Quaraun did not like Fae.

Good Fae.

Bad Fae.

Light Fae.

Dark Fae.

Water Fae.

Mountain Fae.

Trooping Fae.

Solitaries.

It didn't matter to him, the size or type, he didn't like them.

Any of them.

At all.

Especially not Phookas.

Except. . .

No.

He hated Phookas.

Yes.

That was it.

Faeries reminded him of Phookas.

BoomFuzzy was a Phooka.

King Gwallmaiic, King of the Faeries.

This Pixie was a Fairy.

It was reminding him of Faeries.

Which reminded him of Phookas.

Which reminded him of BoomFuzzy.

He pondered the possibility of explaining to a Fae the difference between a wish and being in actual need of help, but concluded that he had yet to meet a Fae capable of logical thought or reasoning, and so trying to be either logical or reasonable with one, was absolutely pointless.

"No. I suppose not. Fae have no logic or common sense in them at all. Ants have more intelligence. Too lazy to help yourselves. Always gotta bum off others. No self sufficiency in them at all. Ants are self sufficient you know. Do all the hard work themselves. You could learn something from ants. Though I do need more souls and willing souls don't often come knocking at the door willing to throw themselves at me. So you desperately need my help with a wish then?"

"But I just. . . said. . . well. . . yeah. . .uhm. . .yes?"

"Alright. What is it then, this wish that you so desperately need my help with?"

"Well, you see, there's this. . .this. . .uhm. . .well. . . there's a. . .uhm. . .a. . ..in the village. . .she. . .uhm. . ."

"A girl?"

Kelim blushed and stared at the wooden floorboards.

Quaraun shook his head.