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

Chapter 5 - Shade

"Where now?" Becky asked.

"You tell me," Rosalind replied. "Follow your instincts. Some of these graves will call to you, go to one of them."

Becky stopped walking. She had a hundred questions about that, but she was catching on quickly that magic was more about feelings than instructions. Trusting in her aunt's words, she took a quick breath, concentrated on the power inside of herself, that had been a lot more noticeable since they set foot in the cemetery, and waited. It was faint, more like the faintest tug on something tied round her middle, but it was there. Without a word she followed it.

It took her along one row of monuments and into the next, right up to what looked like a low stone coffin.

"Well done," Rosalind encouraged. "Now reach out to what is calling you and use your power to call to it. Be gentle, it won't take much."

This time when she visualised her power, Becky formed a small part of it into a fine net. Rather than throw it, she allowed it to flow towards whatever was setting off her instincts. She knew the moment it made contact as her nerves tingled and her breath puffed out in a billow of white as she sensed a cold, almost empty calm. Slowly and gently she pulled her power back, like a fisherman gathering in a delicate fish.

As she drew her power in, a figure slowly sat up from within the stone coffin, as solid as Rosalind and Saz, but nowhere near as animated. The shade sat there staring forward, doing absolutely nothing.

"Well done," Rosalind said, "just the right amount of power."

"That was easy," Becky said, more than a little shocked at how simple it had been, "was that the test?"

"Not exactly," her aunt told her, "but it does illustrate the power of our bloodline. For some this is the limit of their ability."

"Then what do I need to do?" she asked. "I made an oath, remember?"

"Of course, dear," Rosalind said. "Just tell me the colour of this shade's eyes and we can send her back to her rest."

"Her eyes, why?"

Becky did look as she asked her question, but it didn't make much sense. It was difficult to see properly in the dim light of the cemetery, so she stepped a little closer.

"What you see will indicate the level of your power," Rosalind explained.

Turning, Becky frowned.

"How is she different from you?"

"I am a construct," Rosalind said, "this is a real shade, it's why we had to come here. Think of me like a copy in a computer, I made a copy of myself, and the gem is the drive where I stored the information. For this test we need the original, not a copy. Some spirits remain with their body, mostly unaware, this is one of those."

It sounded odd, but then everything did, so Becky accepted it and looked back at the shade.

"What do you see?" Rosalind asked.

"I don't know," Becky admitted, "it's hard to tell in this light. It's not as if she had very big eyes."

"But the colour should be obvious," Rosalind said.

"Well it might be if I could get closer," Becky said, "but there's all this stone in the way. What do you see?"

"Black holes," Rosalind replied, "but then I have no power anymore, I can only see the shade because I am also dead."

"What did you used to see?" Becky asked.

"Pale blue," was the short answer.

"And you would have been able to see that in this light?"

"Of course," Rosalind said, "the glow gives it away."

"What glow?"

That was when Rosalind stopped and turned to her very slowly. She didn't like the expression on her aunt's face.

"You don't see a glow?" the woman asked.

Becky shook her head, a sinking feeling in her stomach. She could already sense the failure coming.

"Describer her eyes," Rosalind said.

"Why?"

"Please," Rosalind replied, "for me."

With dread making her feel sick, Becky turned her full attention to the shade. She leaned as far over the monument as she could and looked into the woman's face.

"They might be blue," she said, "but they're lighter round the middle, I think, with a darker line around the very outside."

Rosalind swore, honest to god dropped an f-bomb. Becky flinched.

"What?" she asked, terrified of the answer. "I knew it, I'm no good at this am I? I'm sorry, maybe we should just go home? There must be other necromancers that can help. I could maybe help you find one..."

"Rebecca," Rosalind's sharp tone stopped her babbling.

Her aunt was looking at her with an intensity that made her want to run away. She bit her lip.

"I am sorry," Rosalind said in a much more gentle voice, "I did not mean to shock you. When you look at the shade, you see her actual eyes?"

Becky nodded.

"Good lord," Rosalind whispered. "My dear child, do not apologise, you are quite remarkable. I must apologise for my reaction, but you are unprecedented, and it complicates matters."

That didn't sound good.

"What did I do?" Becky asked.

For a moment Rosalind did not reply, a frown marring her perfect brow as she clearly thought about something.

"Release the shade, Becky," her aunt finally said, "and I will explain."

"Okay," she agreed, shaken, but willing to play along.

Holding out her hand, mostly because it helped her visualise the cold power inside, she gently pushed at the shade, fraying away the lines of the net one by one as she did so. The shade's eyes closed, and the woman lay back down, disappearing into the monument once more. Only when Becky felt the cold calm she had originally sensed come back at her did she break the connection completely.

"It's done," she said, facing her aunt.

"Your instincts are very good," Rosalind said, "but then that is to be expected."

"Why?"

Becky wanted answers.

"Come on,"Rosalind said, "let's go somewhere we can sit down. This is going to take a little while."

~*~

Word Count - 8305