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

Chapter 6 - Four Kinds

Rosalind took Becky to a small tavern that was apparently open all night. Becky ordered a drink and took a table at the back, away from all the other patrons with Rosalind choosing a seat on the bench opposite her. Leaving her beer untouched, Becky waited to find out what her aunt had to tell her.

"There are four types of necromancer," Rosalind finally began. "Power levels vary within each, but we all agree there are four, and each is more powerful than the next. The colour we see in a shade's eyes when we raise them is a reflection of our connection to the spirit, our power over it. A base necromancer sees something between black and dark grey. They only have the power to raise a mindless, voiceless copy, be it a shade or reanimating a corpse."

"So, like a puppet?" Becky asked, wanting to be sure she had the right idea.

Rosalind nodded.

"Precisely," she replied. "Distasteful at best."

It did sound creepy, so Becky went with that.

"The next level are those who see variations of red, the brighter, the more powerful they are. Necromancers of this type have the ability to raise a spirit or corpse that, once reanimated, can speak and think for itself. However, it will have no memory of its past. It will take its personality and motivation from the person who raised it."

"That sounds dangerous," Becky said.

The only thing that came to mind was a madman with an army of reanimated corpses, all with one goal. Not a pleasant thought.

"It can be," Rosalind admitted. "There was one Fae necromancer a few thousand years ago who had his eye on ruling half the planet. He came to a violent end when he employed a sorcerer to help him extend his power and his army were corrupted, turning on him and ripping him apart. Of course, when he died, so did they."

"Nasty," Becky said.

"Most of us aren't that stupid, fortunately," Rosalind agreed. "An army that decays is unsustainable."

"Eeeew," Becky agreed. "And the next level?"

"Blue," Rosalind said.

"So you?" Becky checked.

Another nod came from her aunt.

"We see from a deep blue to somewhere just off white," she explained. "I was at the top end. We have the ability to raise what appears to be the original person as a shade or a reanimated corpse. For all intents and purposes, they are the person they once were, and the more powerful of us can restore even a long dead body to the illusion of living. We could keep one or two such reanimates as if they were alive for months. There are only two problems, they come back without any of the magical abilities they may have had, and they are tied to us. No reanimate can leave the sphere of influence of the one who raised them for more than a few hours, twenty four at the most."

"What happens?"

"Their connection to this world fades with time without our magic to reinforce it," Rosalind said. "The body slows and does not respond as well until finally the animation is gone."

"They die again?"

"Not exactly, since they never technically lived again."

"But..."

"No matter how much they may appear to be the original person," Rosalind interrupted her, "they are a copy, an exactly copy like me, but a copy, nonetheless. That is why they have no magic and cannot sustain themselves, they have no soul."

"That sounds ..." Becky had to pause as she took that in. "Actually, that sounds horrific," she said in the end.

"It could be," her aunt agreed. "I have raised shades in my time and used my power at lesser levels in defence, but I have only used my abilities fully once."