It was a sombre morning; the light was dim beneath Von Mori’s trees while the gaps in the canopy, though somehow too small to allow mere photons through, allowed just enough of the dawn’s cold drizzle past it to put a dampener on such concepts as happiness and comfort.
Poor Erebus had run for three hours, magic doing what his muscles could not, and now came the toll, Von Mori was unusually hard for mages to traverse, sapping the magic from them with every step.
It wasn’t much; most would barely notice, but if forced to use magic constantly, the toll became readily apparent to even a master magus, and thus the fatigued necromancer lay dead to the world, not even the drizzle and dew soaking through his robes had stirred him from his slumber; giving Alec and Holly little to do but get to know each other; so far it wasn’t going well.
“How do you humans stand it?” exclaimed a shrill female voice.
“What is it this time?” Alec asked, exasperated beyond measure.
“Being so fragile.”
“How am I fragile?” the human demanded; he certainly didn’t feel fragile.
“Can’t you feel it? Your heart, what if it times the muscle wrong, it could rip itself asunder, or what if it stops or goes too slow or-”
“It has gone this long without a problem,” Alec interrupted grouchily; being carried at a full run hadn’t been restful.
“For now, and that’s just one organ. What about your lungs, or your liver or-”
“I do get the point,” Alec stopped her again. “But I would like to point out I’ve probably got a good thirty years of life ahead of me if I’m lucky.”
“Thirty years?” Holly stammered, looking horrified.
“You volunteered for this,” the boy pointed out fairly.
“I was expecting to be bound to the necromancer,” she snapped, folding her arms in front of her, in what Alec assumed was a sulk until he heard the sobbing.
Instinctively he moved to comfort her, but a firm grip on his collar prevented him. The boy startling; he hadn’t noticed the necromancer move.
“Walk with me a while,” Erebus said, it wasn’t a request.
As soon as they passed out of sight of the clearing, the necromancer called a halt. “Wait ten minutes so she can get some of it out of her system, then go to comfort her, she will be angry, likely hit you. Do not retaliate. Understood?”
“Wha- why?” Alec exclaimed in shocked annoyance.
“She is going to be the closest relationship in your life, closer than your wife, should you marry, closer even than your children, should you have them. Two bodies, one soul. Well one and a half.”
Alec went to protest only to be cut off.
“I’m not saying you’ll fall in love with her, just that no one will ever know you as well as she will, so do you really want her hating you?” Erebus asked gently.
“I guess not,” Alec admitted, looking thoughtful.
“Indeed. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must return to my slumber.” And without another word, the necromancer returned to his flattened patch of grass, appearing to fall asleep in moments.
He definitely wasn’t how Alec had grown up expecting a necromancer to be. Instead of the bloodthirsty butcher of childhood fairytales, Erebus appeared to be a gentle and compassionate soul who, more than anything, reminded Alec of a wandering monk who stayed yearly in his village from late autumn through to the end of winter. The monk had been a kindly if shrivelled and wizened old man possessed of that strange vitality of the old and carefree. The village had seen to it that he was provided with food and shelter, and, in return, though without asking and at his own insistence, the monk had added greatly to the sparse education the village had to offer.
Adis, the carpenter’s wife, had done her best, of course. All the kids knew their numbers and their alphabet, though letters weren’t much use when there were just three books between the entire village, or at least there had been until a few years ago when the monk had arrived slightly later than usual. The man had usually arrived like clockwork, midday on the autumn equinox; that year, he’d been two days late and presumed dead. Instead, he’d arrived with a satchel of books over his shoulder, though why eight books had delayed the old man two days had remained unclear.
Alec was interrupted from his musings by a noise, or rather the lack of one. Holly had finally run out of tears, albeit her shoulders still wracked to dry and silent sobs.
Silently as he could, Alec walked over to the young dryad, sitting down beside her with a weak smile, which Holly either ignored or completely failed to notice. With mounting dread Alec placed a hand gently on her shoulder, fully expecting a razor nailed hand of misdirected vengeance to come sharply in contact with his face, which it did.
There was a gasp, more out of shock than pain, as Holly raised a hand to her cheek then took it away, examining the sap there, the blood of trees, oozing from four long cuts on her cheek, exactly where she’d left an identical wound on Alec.
This provoked another bout of tears as Alec, ignoring the dripping blood and slowly gathering pain of his own cuts, put an arm around the weeping dryad’s shoulders and, in a show of surprising tact and insight, just held her close until once more the tears ran out.
Only then did he speak, his voice calm and understanding, his own anger and irritation put aside in the face of this emotionally fragile creature. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Yes,” was Holly’s uncertain reply.
“Why are you so upset?” he asks as tactfully as he can.
“I… don’t want to die,” the dryad informed him hesitantly.
“I’m not sure anyone actually does,” Alec mused for her benefit, which showed a rather limited worldview.
Holly giggled slightly before returning to her mournful state. “Doesn’t it bother you? Knowing you’ll die?”
“I’m not viewed as an adult yet so I’ve never taken the time to think about it, still… yes I suppose,” he shrugs, the motion surprisingly expressive for such a small frame. “But, the way I see it, everything dies eventually, it’s what you do before that which matters.”
Holly frowned, “Surely it’s how long your life lasts that’s more important?”
“Doubtful,” came the voice of their eavesdropper.
The two started like frightened rabbits, looking around to see no one.
“Too easily frightened,” whispered the voice, heavy on the air and coming from all directions. “I mean you no harm.”
“Who are you?” Holly asked, still turning in search of the disembodied voice.
“It’s just Ente,” Alec assured her before declaring imperiously, “What do you want ghost?”
“Just a little conversation,” the ghost promised, still unseen. “It gets rather lonely in my jar with no one to talk to. You’ll want to work on limiting that bond if you want to stop sharing wounds.”
“I’m sorry but who is Ente?” Holly asked, her brow wrinkling in confusion.
“A ghost Erebus captured, an old necromancer or something,” the teen answered vaguely.
“Necromancer or something‽” came the affronted reply of the ghost. “I was the preeminent researcher of my age!”
“How long ago was that?” Alec asked, mildly inquisitive despite his strict paladin upbringing.
“I don’t know, it’s hard to keep track of time in a cave,” the ghost admitted, “best to ask Erebus when he wakes.”
“So what were you saying earlier?” the boy asked, “about it not being about how long you live?”
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“People can go their entire lives just living day to day, but there comes a time where surviving simply isn’t enough, your life means nothing if it doesn’t give something to those around you,” the ghost philosophised slowly.
“And did you?” Holly snapped.
“I’d certainly like to think so,” Ente replied with utter solemnity.
“Holly leave the ghost alone. He’s done nothing to you,” Alec ordered quietly, though with a surprising authority. “Sorry about that, she’s hurting right now,” he said, paraphrasing Erebus.
“I heard… is there any chance of getting my jar out of the young necromancer’s pack? I’d like to be able to see my surroundings, I mean sensing the life force around me is nice but after who knows how long in a cave I’d like to see the sun,” Ente requested quietly.
“How can a ghost see?” Alec asked perhaps a tad insensitively, but it was understandable, and the ghost understood; the curiosity of the young was very hard to restrain. Admittedly Ente’s definition of young was anyone under three hundred, but the theory still stood up to reasonable scrutiny.
“I don’t actually know,” Ente admitted with little hesitation. “It was still a mystery in my day, I would be quite interested to see if they’ve solved it.”
“Oh. Okay,” Alec said quietly, “Any idea how long until I can ask?”
“At least another three hours, and that’s presuming he has exceptional recovery, now… sorry to nag but, could you please take my soul jar out now?”
“Of course, Holly could you pass me Erebus’ pack please?” Alec asked cheerily.
“Get it yourself, I’m not your servant,” the dryad snapped.
Alec sighed, doing just that. Sometimes it just wasn’t worth arguing. Best to wait until such a time as the ears may be receptive to one’s words. It was one of the monk’s sayings, and as always, it proved useful.
He untied the string around the top of the pack, reaching inside to pull out the small gem that contained the old ghost. Unlike last he saw it, the gem was now giving off a pale ethereal blue. “Is that better?” Alec asked.
“Much, thank you, could you possibly put me on top of the pack? A slight elevation will give the best view,” came the disembodied voice.
“Sure,” Alec said cheerily, placing the gem down with surprising care and respect, enough so that Ente couldn’t restrain a question, albeit disguised as an offhand comment.
“Hard to believe you’re paladin born, though perhaps things have changed since my day,” Ente said, carefully drawing the teen into a conversation.
Holly sighed quietly; no one had asked about her past, not that there was much to tell. The only hint of excitement in all of her years had been Alec and Erebus travelling through the forest near her tree, and in a moment of insane wanderlust, she’d signed her soul over to the young teenager. In retrospect, she’d clearly acted irrationally. Holly jerked from her brief moment of self-deprecating introspection as Alec took the proverbial bait Ente had so carefully laid.
“Your day?” he asked simply, clearly fascinated by having access to a (metaphorically) living link to the past.
“Yes my day, back then paladin and necromancer would have killed each other on sight yet you show little hate towards anything, though I suppose that’s because you are both young and fearful,” the ghost mused.
“How am I fearful?” Alec asked with sudden nervousness.
“Your mannerisms boy, you’re as tense as a coiled cobra, constantly second-guessing your own choices, words and actions.”
“I suppose there is some truth in that,” Alec admitted. “Though I do have one question, if I may?”
“Of course boy, despite the teachings of the Order, curiosity is no great sin, though in perhaps some cases, it is a mild one. Ask your question,” Ente insisted. The boy, in his opinion, showed great promise and surprising understanding of philosophical discourse for one brought up in a society that had, in his time, viewed curiosity as a sin worse than murder. In fact, a lot of murder had been committed to try and prevent such perverse and disgusting behaviour as curiosity. Thus he held unusually high hopes for the insight the boy was hopefully about to display.
“What’s a cobra?”
If ghosts could sigh, then the sound Ente emitted was a sigh, though he answered all the same; after all, curiosity was to be rewarded no matter how much it failed to meet expectations.
“A particularly venomous type of snake with a hooded appearance found in a place far to the east of here,” the ghost imparted.
“What’s a snake?”
“A snake is uh…” Ente stopped for a moment, trying to figure out how to explain the creature. “It’s a reptile with no legs, broadly speaking.”
“What’s a reptile?” came the insistent questioning.
Ente floundered. “Well uh… they’re… I’m not sure how to explain to be honest,” the ghost finally admitted.
“. . . Oh, sorry,” Alec apologised uncertainly.
“A word of advice boy, don’t apologise for things which aren’t your fault. It shows great empathy on your part but too easily can it lead to others using you as a crutch for their own faults,” the ghost said in a somewhat remorseful tone, perhaps dwelling on a tragedy in his long distant past.
There was a large pause before another voice tried to articulate its owner’s thoughts, surprisingly the voice was Holly’s.
“Do dryads have an afterlife?” asked the tree spirit in fearful tones, clearly voicing one of her darkest fears.
The ghost thought for a moment, unable to give an honest answer that would soothe the girl’s troubled thoughts. Finally, he settled on a position he was happy with, “It depends on what you believe child, many religions believe in afterlives, and a number in reincarnation, and more in afterlives for all things. But no one can give an absolute answer, the only people who can have passed beyond the reaches of all, even necromancers. We call it stepping beyond the Veil, and so far, no one’s ever stepped back. I wish I could offer you more in the way of reassurance.”
“You’re not the only one,” Holly muttered.
“Back off Holly, he’s done nothing wrong,” her host warned as gently as he could. The Paladin Order may have had a lot to say on the evils of those who raised the dead. Still, there had been little on the dead themselves; beyond that they should be laid to rest and thus enjoy their eternal peace and thus, with no social stigma associated, Alec was rather warming to the wise ghost.
“Yeah sure, of course you’d side with the other human,” Holly accused bitterly.
“That would be rather difficult young dryad considering in life I was an elf,” Ente calmly deflected the verbal assault, though somehow, this failure to rise to the bait only served to annoy her more.
“Now you’re just being picky,” she muttered, folding her arms across her chest.
“I would hardly call being a different species being picky, given your argument,” the ghost replied reasonably with the composure and pointedness of a seasoned debater.
“Whatever,” Holly said under her breath, the young dryad feeling rather picked upon.
Alec rolled his eyes. It seemed Holly’s issues weren’t solvable by anything as simple as discussing them, though, hopefully, she at least had a better understanding of why she was angry; he certainly did, and it had allowed him a modicum of sympathy for the dryad.
He brought his gaze to bear on the gently glowing soul jar. “Who cares about the next life? It’s what we do in this one that matters.”
“You’ve a surprisingly… empathic view for one so young,” Ente observed. “But, and I hope you’ll excuse the accusation, those words sound as if you’re repeating them rather than creating, not that I’m trying to imply that you don’t understand what you’re saying, clearly you do or your observations would not be so apt.”
“You’d be right,” the teen admitted, “I had a very good teacher.”
“Clearly,” the ghost replied. “If we weren’t in paladin territory I’d say they were a necromancer.”
“He’s a monk of the paladin order actually,” Alec informed the ghost.
“Ah, now that would explain it,” Ente said thoughtfully. “The monks have always kept themselves apart from the petty conflicts and prejudices of their orders. Do you know which monastery?”
“I’m afraid not. And what do you mean prejudices? They just dislike necromancy,” the teen pointed out.
“Have you ever been told why?”
“Because it’s evil, the dead have earnt the right to rest, to force them to do our bidding is just cruel.” Alec offering what was either an opinion or propaganda.
“Speaking as a member of the dead I’d rather have to disagree, I personally would be glad to be of some use or value to society after my death,” Ente argued.
“Yeah but you’re a necromancer, of course you’d say that, it’s what you’ve been brainwashed to believe,” Alec pointed out.
“A good point but you’ve been force-fed your beliefs as well,” the ghost countered.
“No I haven’t, I made my own mind up,” Alec complained.
“And were you presented with a balanced argument which shows both sides of the debate? Were you presented with a clear cut choice without the threat of dire consequences?” Ente demanded firmly, seeming to actually take affront.
“Well no but-”
“Then you did not make your mind up, it was made up for you,” the ghost stated.
“But-” Alec began again.
“There are no buts, if you were not given the opportunity of an informed choice then you did not choose.”
Alec gave up, the ghost was clearly completely intractable on the matter, and Holly was looking far too amused at the argument for his liking, not to mention that he couldn’t suppress a sneaking suspicion that the ancient necromancer was correct.
“So what do we do now?” he finally asked the ghost.
“My advice would be to get what rest you can, once Erebus wakes you’ll be spending the day walking bar meals and even they will be eaten on the go if possible,” the necromancer informed him. “As for you Holly, I’d suggest that you spend your time trying to come to terms with yourself, you made your choice now you must live with the consequences and it will be an unhappy life if you choose to spend it lashing out at all around you.”
“Sounds reasonable,” Alec agreed, removing his jacket to lay beneath his head.
Holly, however, paused from her moping to glare at the crystal, “Did I make an informed choice or did someone choose for me?”