When Alec finally awoke from his magically induced slumber, it was night. And he was tied to a tree.

“Sorry about this but I thought it best to explain things before I gave you free reign of the camp,” his kidnapper said kindly, sat opposite a small fire, the man no more than a silhouette in the dim flickering firelight.

“What do you want?” Alec spat, words harsh as he could make them to disguise the fear in his voice.

The man took a deep calming breath as he steepled his fingers, apparently deep in thought. “I want to atone for my mistakes, which is impossible. So I’m going to do the next best thing, saving your life.”

“By kidnapping me‽” Alec exclaimed furiously.

“I will admit circumstances are not what I would have wished but I hope in time you will come to understand,” he answered solemnly.

“Not bloody likely,” was the less than encouraging response.

“Now I’m going to cut you loose and, if you’re wise, you won’t run,” he warned quiet but firm. That was one thing Alec had already noticed, the necromancer was always very softly spoken.

“And what will you do if I ignore your advice?” the teen enquired, an undertone of anger in his voice; if he’d had the free use of his hands ‘advice’ would have most certainly been given air quotes.

“Try to prevent you from being eaten.” There was a slight chuckle. “Foolish boy, there are far more dangerous things than a mere mage in these woods, why do you think your own village — the very frontier of human civilisation — was built just two miles in? And surrounded by walls besides.”

“So what’s so dangerous?”

“Well for starters there’s the arach, which grow unusually large in these parts, the walking woods that make navigation a hazard at best, then there’s the carnivorous plants. Underworld above, even the dryads are known to be malevolent at times,” the necromancer’s voice trailed off, though whether this was because he didn’t want to scare his reluctant charge or that he’d run out of creatures to name only he knew.

Alec gave this due thought. “What do you mean was?”

The necromancer winced, damned from his own mouth, “Ah. I’d rather hoped to wait to tell you, Alec.”

“Tell me what?” was the suspicious reply.

Another sigh, one hand massaging his forehead to try and drive away a headache, “Respite’s dead Alec, every man, woman and child.”

“Y-you’re lying,” Alec protested, starting to try and struggle free from his bonds.

“I wish it were so but I’m sorry to say that I buried the bodies myself, only you survived,” the necromancer said softly, solemn and sincere. “Do you honestly remember nothing of last night?”

“Stop lying! They can’t be dead.”

“Alec, believe what you will of me but I am telling you the truth.”

“Liar,” was Alec’s obstinate reply.

There was a mirthless chuckle. “I can’t make you believe me, nor would I try. Perhaps a compromise?”

“Like what?” the teenager demanded.

“Next time we pass near your hometown, I’ll return you to it,” he promised. “My solemn vow upon it.”

“And how long is that likely to take?” Alec inquired with all the chill venom of snake and spider ice cream, fully aware that the offered deal had a major loophole.

The necromancer shrugged, “Presuming I’m not ordered to do otherwise? Probably a year. Is that satisfactory?”

“No but I don’t really have a choice do I?”

“Not really. Still I have given you my word, dubious though it’s value may be to you. Now try not to move,” he instructed, moving over to the boy, cutting his bonds with a slim hunting knife.

Alec collapsed to the floor like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

“Need a hand?” his kidnapper offered, reaching out an arm.

Swallowing his pride, Alec accepted, allowing himself to be helped to a log so he could sit down and start massaging the blood back into numb arms and legs.

“The feeling will return to your limbs in a few minutes,” the necromancer assured. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to organise safe passage for us through the forest.” With that said, he stood and walked off, swallowed by the trees in seconds, leaving Alec alone with his thoughts.

After a few minutes, as promised, he found his arms and legs weren’t aching as much. With difficulty, he got to his feet weighing the pros and cons of running.

The necromancer had yet to do him any physical harm, though he was still confining him against his will, which, going from the stories, wasn’t typical necromancer behaviour, then again, nor was letting him live. There was also the dangers of the forest to consider; after all, the place had rather earned its name of Forest Von Mori, which he’d been reliably informed meant Forest of the Dead in one of the elder tongues that had passed from this world, though if he’d never seen any of the dread creatures hidden within its many trees.

All in all, it was probably safer to do as he was told in this case.

Having reached his decision, Alec allowed himself to sit back down upon the log, staring vacantly into the fire. He hoped his parents were okay, the necromancer’s lies, for that’s what they must be, troubling him nonetheless.

His thoughts were interrupted by his captor’s return, the mage returning in a swirl of black cloak and robe as he emerged from the treeline, quickly sitting down beside the teenager.

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“My… contact will be here soon, try not to say anything,” Alec was informed coldly, the necromancer’s change in demeanour quite worrying.

Barely had he said it than a quiet came over the forest, the muted sounds of birdsong dwindled, the insects fled or perhaps died, and even the wind seemed to hold its tongue. With bated breath, the two watched vines extend from the base of the trees, slithering serpentine across the leaf-littered floor, noticeably skirting round the fire before all meeting in front of the log, forming a writhing ball of plant life.

The vines receded, leaving behind a woman but like no woman Alec had ever seen. For starters, her skin was a vibrant and botanical green, and she was dressed in decaying leaves, a long flowing dress that extended to the floor while petals of all colours made up her hair.

“Nice entrance,” the mage commented blithely.

The woman gave a shallow bow. “Thank you necromancer, from one of your order that is quite the compliment,” her words were melodic and soothing to the ear.

“You are too kind, Lady Dryad,” was the mildly bashful reply.

“Lady Von Mori,” the dryad corrected, though not harshly.

“My apologies, I was unaware I was talking to such a distinguished dryad, though I am honoured that you view my plight worthy of your attention.”

The dryad smiled, “You are courteous; I had forgotten how skilled your people are with words.” There was something stilted to the compliment as if she were reading off of a script she wasn’t quite familiar with, and an echo of that same slight wrongness in the necromancer’s words too.

“The better to offer comfort to the bereaved, Lady Von Mori,” the necromancer claimed solemnly.

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me,” Von Mori said with a warm smile, though there was a look in her eye that Alec was less than comfortable with when her gaze swept over him; it put him in mind of a hunting falcon preparing to dive on a squirrel caught in the open.

“My thanks. Does this mean you will allow us safe passage?”

Von Mori sighed, the sound like the rustling of autumnal leaves in the breeze. “Normally I wouldn’t hesitate to grant your request but if death is your fate it is not my place to save you.”

“My fate?” the necromancer queried, not having to feign confusion.

“I am not ignorant to how the peace is maintained. If your order has chosen you to die then I will not intervene for I value this peace too much,” her tone was kind and consoling yet portrayed great sadness.

“M’lady you wound me greatly, I am a research mage, they would not see such as I led, like a lamb, to the slaughter.”

“The paladin said otherwise,” Von Mori stated flatly.

“Of course he did, Lutan is nothing if not a skilled liar. I have my credentials here if you would allow me?”

“Of course.” The dryad nodded, “I would be glad if your tale is true.”

The necromancer nodded back, lowering his hood to reveal a youthful face, barely out of his twenties, though with an unnaturally pale complexion. He then reached into one of the many inner pockets of his robe and withdrew a small bead of black stone, handing it to the ancient dryad without hesitation. “As you can see my licence to practise magic in paladin lands has not been revoked.”

Lady Von Mori smiled, handing the stone back, “So I see, my apologies for doubting you, Erebus. I take it this means that this paladin has broken the Treaty?”

“Yes, now let us speak no more of it, the boy has yet to be inducted.”

“Ah, that can be dealt with…” Von Mori said darkly.

“I would rather you did not, I have invested a lot of time and energy into keeping Alec alive, m’lady,” Erebus said, voice still soft yet with an implacable hardness in the undercurrents.

There was a chuckle from the dryad, ethereal yet lighthearted, “Necromancers and their apprentices, always so protective.”

Alec went to protest only to be silenced by Erebus’ glare.

“Alec is not my apprentice,” the necromancer replied in even tones.

“But he has-” Von Mori began, only to be silenced by one of the necromancer’s hand gestures, the dark mage sweating from the effort to restrain such a powerful creature.

Outraged, Von Mori howled in silence, her anger washing over them like a forest fire as the roots and branches of the forest began to reach for the unfortunate Erebus and Alec alike.

“P-please m’lady. If if you wish to sp-speak of this th-then let us go out of earshot of the boy,” Erebus rasped. Even from metres away, Alec could see the veins and arteries of his face and neck throbbing as the necromancer struggled to keep the dryad’s attack at bay, the psychotic flora coming to a furious halt a few scant inches from the mage, lashing and cracking against a barrier of pure will, though they never got within feet of Alec.

Scowling fiercely, Von Mori ceased her assault, jerking her head to the side to indicate where to go.

Silently the two departed the clearing, leaving Alec alone once more. Tempting though it was to try and eavesdrop on the two, a sense of self-preservation was telling him that the tree spirit was sincere in her threat upon his life. Not that he was going to waste his time, instead using it to compile a small list of unanswered questions.

What was the black stone the necromancer, whom he now knew was called Erebus, had given the dryad? What was ‘the Treaty’? And perhaps most importantly, he realised belatedly, how did the necromancer know his name?

Meanwhile, outside the clearing, the two supernaturals faced each other, the friendliness from earlier rather lacking.

“You had better have had a good reason for shackling me, necromancer. For your sake,” spat Lady Von Mori.

“The boy is paladin raised, he would not have appreciated knowing he had the gift,” Erebus explained patiently, unperturbed by her anger.

“You bound me, the dryad of this forest, for a mere child’s sensibilities‽” came the outraged reply.

“Surely there are few reasons that can compete with that?” the necromancer began, only to prove his question rhetorical by continuing. “However no, I had other reasons as well. The ‘Lord Protector’ of this region, the paladin Lutan, has done more than just betray the Treaty of Gerlun, I could have coped with a mere attempt upon my life, he also massacred the village of Respite in its entirety, though their only crime was to offer me shelter, unknowing of my nature.”

“I see. But how does this equal a reason to render me mute?” Von Mori demanded, not yet appeased.

“Oh calm your wounded pride, it was merely the quickest way to organise a conversation alone,” Erebus exclaimed, briefly losing his softly spoken persona.

“How dare you-” Von Mori began before realising such an outburst only proved the necromancer’s point and calmed herself. “Very well, what do you wish to discuss?”

“I am headed for the Necropolis, the council need to know what Lutan has done.”

“And what do you need from me?”

“Anything that is yours to give,” Erebus stated, almost pleadingly.

“A steep request, do you know what you ask?” the dryad enquired, shocked at the temerity.

“I would be a fool if I did not,” the necromancer said with a sad smile. “Alas the situation is that grave, Lutan is ambitious and vengeful, mostly vengeful, he will not stop until magician and paladin make open war once more.”

“Can the treaty be saved?” was the now anxious reply.

“If I can warn the council before Lutan can sow his own version of events to fester,” Erebus responded. “Also, just in case I should pass from this life before I reach them, I would ask you to ask any other mages you might meet to pass the news on to their respective council members.”

“Very well, I will do what I can.” And with that, the venerable dryad simply melted away in a flurry of blossoms, evoking a slight smirk from Erebus, who then returned to the clearing to sit beside the troubled Alec.