The Necromancer

Chapter 8, Part 6

A heavy, impenetrable grey mist hung over the graveyard. According to Professor Magdat, that was a normal occurrence. Thank the gods she was willing to help me with all of this, because in addition to being a powerful Necromancer, she was also probably one of the few people alive who had actually seen the rebirth spell performed before. Necromancer warlords aren't known for their generosity, and generally don't spend their time performing such involved rituals for someone else's benefit. 

Finally, I uttered the last stanza of the long, complicated spell, and light flowed out of the Dragonheart's mouth in a thousand different streams. The bits of light all settled on the individual graves... and began to pulse and throb. Somehow I hadn't messed it up! One would think that my throat would be sore after speaking for three straight months, but instead it was just numb. In fact, I coudn't feel any part of my body. Every part of me was made of jelly. With the spell done, I dropped the Dragonheart and collapsed into the grass, unable to move my legs.

"What's wrong with him?" General Fleiros growled. "Did something go wrong with the incantation?" I tried to roll over to look at him, but none of my muscles working. Well, this is frustrating.

"It's just a side effect of the nourishing spells," I heard Professor Magdat explain. "They wear off rather suddenly. Help him, please." A bony foot stepped into the grass near my head as some of her minions came close. Their skeletal hands dragged me upright and held me in place, bringing Professor Magdat's sexy blonde figure into view. The grizzled general was standing next to her, stroking his long grey beard. I blinked rapidly, clearing my vision. I had been able to see during the chanting but it was like my mind just blocked everything out. It was all a haze. 

"I'm fine," I managed to croak. Feeling was already returning to the tips of my fingers; it was like coming in to sit by the fire after a night out in the snow. 

"Let's hope this worked, Necromancer." He was still refusing to use my name. "Otherwise..."

"Yes, yes. You'll banish my soul with the light of a thousand suns. I know." He'd reiterated that point a number of times during our negotiations. Strength returned to my feet, and I shook my skeleton supporters loose and managed to stand on my own. "I did my best, General."

"BEST," Mog agreed with an enthusiastic nod.

"He really did do well, General." Professor Magdat beamed at me. "If I didn't know better, I would have thought he'd gone to some sort of Necromancer Academy. Probably had a good teacher, too." That finally got the old man to crack a smile. 

A dark silhouette loomed out of the mist. Professor Magdat, General Fleiros and I immediately forgot our conversation and turned our attention toward the graveyard. Skip?

The figure came closer... close enough to realize that it was just a Paladin soldier, still wearing golden armor with a hole torn through the center by an ax. But the skin underneath was perfectly smooth and healed: he was as good as new. I gave a disappointed sigh; not Skip. But General Fleiros stepped forward with his arms spread wide and a triumphant grin on his face. "Justithas! You made it!"

The soldier looked dazed, pressing his hands to his chest. "What in the..." His fingers explored the jagged edges of the broken armor. "I... did I die?" His eyes fell upon me and suddenly widened. "Did you... a Necromancer, General?"

General Fleiros wrapped him in a hug and thumped him heartily on the back. "Yes, a Necromancer." For once, the word wasn't loaded with loathing and disgust; just gratitude. "It's good to see you again, brother." He turned towards me, still embracing his comrade, and I could just barely see the twinkle of a tear in his eyes. Our gazes met, and he mouthed: "Thank you, Winston."