Beorian Tales 14 - The Necromancer and The Angel

Chapter 9 - Finding Their Ways

Ever since the night when the crystal flowers had grown, they had received more visitors. Some came to admire them, some to bless them, some to cut them to take a sample. The latter left empty-handed, as the flowers did not die, nor could they be cut. The stems broke many blades – scissors, knives, shears, even swords. To the dismay of many mages, the flowers reflected spells back at their caster.

More mooncallers had made nests, and some dropped seeds into the soil. Every night, the flarey king visited them, and used his magic to make more crystal flowers of many colors. People grew less afraid of them, and some sat in their chair and wept. They began to make the chair warm, but it took a while for them to get the temperature just right, so that it would warm people and not burn them. A memory surfaced of a young Emilia saying, "Pwactice makes pah-fect."

Since gaining her knowledge and memories, they had much to think about, and usually they heard their thoughts in Emilia's voice. They knew she had left town, and they would have gone with her, if they were not bound in place, here with the dead of eons to keep them company. They asked the flarey king if he knew how she was.

Dingleberry was a strange creature, never keeping on one subject for long; but they figured out that, although the king considered Emilia a friend, he only saw her when she called him. It was then that they remembered Emilia's father, and how she had summoned him...with their help, of course. Perhaps he knew where in the Badlands she might be. They waited a few brief hours until evening, and the moon had risen. There was no one visiting the Cemetery of the Forgotten tonight. Softly, they addressed the night air:

"Memento Mortalis, I summon you! Appear before me, in this place, at this moment, and speak truth to me."

There was none of Emilia's urgency or fear-driven power in their yearning plea, but there was a primal power in their request. A wind sprang up and encircled the Angel of Remembrance, who had been christened Terry. It caused the crystal roses to sway and carol like wind chimes. A light flashed in the stone chair, and faded, leaving Memento seated in its embrace. Momentarily, of course. Being a ghost, he fell right through.

"Em, ya knows ghosts canna sit."

"My name is Terry."

"Very funny, girl. I..." and Memento turned around, words failing him as he saw the starry night reflected back at him, shaped like the Angel. The one he'd called Terry as a youth. Terry continued.

"Your daughter loves you very much..."

"Yeah, she's a sweet..."

"You make her mad, and she also hates you very much..."

Mr. Mortalis carefully replied, "Teenagers..."

"Yet she loves you anyway. This confuses me."

"You 'n me both, Terry. You 'n me both." Emmy's Dad laughed. "Here we are, a ghost an' a talkin' statue, discussin' love an' 'ate an' kids...in a cemetery. Iffen we was alive, I'd invite ya ta 'ave a beer in a tavern, an' we'd be sittin' by a nice roarin' fireplace."

"Like that place I saw in Emilia's mind – the Old Priest and Rat Tavern? She sees it as...a home. It would be nice to go there."

"Ya seem pretty powerful-like ta be jes' a statue. Ya mean ta say ya canna move from 'ere?"

"I can move, but only a little, and with great discomfort. This cemetery is my home, but the statue you see is my cage."

"Who caged ya?" asked Memento tentatively.

"I do not know."

"Is dere a key dat'll free ya?"

"I do not know. What I do know is that I care for your daughter, Memento Mortalis. She brought me joy, in this of all places. I had never felt joy until she spoke to me. Everyone, down through countless centuries, has spoken at me, as if I were an unfeeling piece of stone. But she spoke to me. I ask your help in keeping an eye on her, and to tell me when she is in trouble."

Emilia's father thought deeply. Terry scared him senseless, but he liked Emilia – so he was all right in his book. There were restrictions for him, though. A ghost can only do so much. Even the undead have limits and rules. He chuckled, "Like you, friend, I canna wander far from me body, which is still in da Badlands. We can be summoned, but we canna go where we please."

There was a long pause.

"Can you sense your connection to it, from here?" Terry asked at last.

"Yeah." As Memento felt it, there was a surge, until it almost felt like a limb extending into the earth, or a tail reaching down from his butt and buried in the ground.

"You can now come and go wherever you please, instantly, as long as you have already been there before. Emilia is on her way to the Badlands. Follow her, and report to me every day."

Memento was about to try out this new ability – he had no doubt that it would work, but if it didn't, it would make sense for this statue to have gone a bit nutty being cooped up alive in a cemetery – when he saw a flaw in the plan. "Emilia will know I'm there!"

"I believe she would reply, 'That's your problem, not mine.' Now go!"

The Beginning Place

In a room at the center of the universe, an amorphous blob with two eye stalks watched the interplay of galaxies. He saw a black hole engulf a star system which held the beginnings of intelligent life. But it wasn't the loss of a potential galactic empire that was making the normally bubbly Great Ooze sick with worry. "I knew it was a mistake, but I had to do it! But what in Beor do I do now?!"

Granny Ginny's Diary

Joining up with the kids seemed like a good idea at the time. We're headed in the same direction. But I worry for their safety, in spite of the fact that Tomlynn's mark is on them, which means the Melody itself protects them. They're Wild Cards.

For all their sensible rules for survival and cooperation, the Badlanders can be unreasonable, and vicious when out for blood. I can't help but feel that there's someone else pulling their strings. Or perhaps a personal vendetta is at work, or a misunderstanding. They're not the conquering type. Perhaps it's Sangray, Goddess of Chaos, grown bored and looking to stir up trouble simply to annoy me. It would be so much easier if she weren't my daughter.

The trio from The Mighty Wind also seems to have Tomlynn's blessings, if not his mark. They will come in useful in a scrap, not that it will come to that. The young Prince Ampersand only wants to know what the Badlanders' intentions are. And then we'll figure out how to handle this sandy mess.