The Cold Inside: Call of the Necromancer (Open Novella Contest II)

Chapter 4 - Place of the Dead

"Welcome to the Other Realm," Rosalind said as Becky recovered.

"Is he indicative of everyone around here?" she asked while her brain figured out which way was up.

"No, Valoia is more than a little unusual, he is one of the council," her aunt explained.

"Okay," Becky said, "and what is this council again?"

"A group of powerful magical people who come together in times of crisis. You'll meet them all soon enough, but we need to discover your talents first," Rosalind said. "Oh, by the way, it's possible that next time you meet, Valoia might be a woman. If you hadn't guessed, he's Dark Fae, and he's what they call Aldakverbilis, a shapeshifter. His talents in that area are limited to changing his gender and he tends to favour fully male or fully female."

"Noted," Becky acknowledged. "I know a few people who would kill for that ability. Given the whole moving through space thing, I'm guessing he has other talents too?"

"Many," Rosalind replied. "He is the Prime of the Katala clan and he's functionally immortal. His whole clan have vampiric tendencies, so if he asks to kiss you, say no, it means he wants to bite you."

"Not my type," Becky said. "So is it the vampiric tendencies that make him immortal?"

"No, it's his magic," was the quick answer. "He's something of an anomaly. No one, not even he, is quite sure how he came to exist, or why. He hasn't aged a day since he took the oath and became Prime of his clan. Been at it six hundred years or so, by all accounts. He's a tricky bastard, but I like him or her, depending what mood he's in."

"He prefers to be gendered according to the shape he's in?" Becky checked, because she didn't want to offend anyone on her first visit.

Rosalind nodded.

"Now we need to hurry, it will be dawn soon. The cemetery is this way."

"We're going to a cemetery?"

"Yes, sorry, didn't I mention that?"

Becky shook her head and wondered what else her aunt was forgetting to tell her.

Unlike the village where they had arrived, which had been lit only by the bright moon, this city was lit by torches on the buildings. Eerily the torches burned without sound or smoke and every single one of them appeared to be identical. It made it easy to see, but it was just another thing Becky had to add to the list of stuff that did not make sense. There were a few people about as well, but no one took any notice of them.

Eventually they slipped down an alley and Rosalind brought her up short from stepping out the other side by putting an arm up. Her aunt pointed across the street they were about to enter.

It was hard to miss that they had found the cemetery. It had a high wrought iron fence with spikes on top, and beyond that were ornate tombs and grave markers. However, what had most of Becky's attention was the person in armour standing next to what seemed to be the only gate.

"Who's that?" she asked.

"The Protector," Rosalind replied. "The Protectors are kind of like the city's police force only more magical. There is always one on guard at the cemetery."

"Because of people like us?"

"Exactly."

"So how do we get in?" Becky asked.

"You need to ask the Protector for permission to enter," Rosalind said.

"Why can't you do it? Surely they'll have heard of you," Becky protested.