He walked with his head down so the hood fell forward, shadowing his face though he ached to feel the sun on it. It was inadequate as warmth went, but the best he could get outside the flask tucked beneath his tunic.
Silence fell as he walked along, matching him step for step. He knew without looking up that people were stopping in the middle of their chores, their conversations, to stare at him.
A short figure dressed in dark, bedraggled clothes that were meant to be worn in winter, not the middle of summer. They watched him, hoping to catch a glimpse of ‘death-pale skin’ or perhaps the ‘bones and blood’ his type always carried to perform their evil spells. Later, he knew, they would all claim to have smelled death on him, to have seen grave dirt in the folds of his robes.
His thoughts were interrupted by a child’s laugh as two of them ran across his path, one obviously chasing the other, playing a game that made them oblivious to the morbid curiosity and barely restrained hostility of the adults.
The chaser fell with a sharp cry on the hard cobblestone street, and Koray reached unthinkingly to help her up.
“Don’t touch my child you filthy monster!” A woman shrieked, and it was immediately joined by a cacophony of threats and epithets. Koray drew his hand back into the folds of his robe, feeling colder than ever. “My apologies,” he said, though he didn’t think the furious, trembling woman heard him – not that she would care if he did.
Tamping down on the familiar pain, telling himself it was all right, it didn’t matter, he was used to it, Koray pulled his head further into his hood and continued on, laughing bitterly at the way the people parted to let him pass.
Because as strong as their hate was, their fear was greater. If you angered a normal mage, the worst he could do was kill you.
*grumbles* You're not supposed to encourage me (but what is a writer if not an attention whore? Let's be serious):
Ignoring them, focusing only on the street and where he had to go, Koray left the people behind and made his way to the castle. He stopped at the gate and reached into his tunic, pulling out a small scroll and presenting it to the guards.
He pretended not to see the way they flinched, ignored the way they refused to touch the scroll. “The King is expecting you,” one guard managed, not looking at him as he motioned for the gate to be opened, then waved him inside.
“Thank you,” Koray murmured as he passed by them and into the castle proper.
The courtyard was simple stone, all of it well-laid and obviously quality, but simple all the same. Functional, but appealing for all that. He ignored the way guards and servants milling about stopped to stare at him.
Or tried. Everyone stared at Necromancers. After fifteen years of it, he should be accustomed. He wished someone would teach him the trick of growing used to being hated and feared before they even bothered to learn so much as his name.
Why had he agreed to this audience? The King could have found another necromancer eventually.
Koray hunched his shoulders, fisting his hands to keep them from trembling as ghosts began to assault him – sapping his energy to appear, pleading with him, crying, showing what had been done to him, begging him to help, the words all soundless because he had not the strength to give any of them voice. He shivered, cold, and pulled his robes more tightly around him, envious of those who could gain warmth simply by standing in the sun.
He presented his scroll, a royal order from the King, to the next set of guards. They backed hastily away, pointing down the hallway. Koray murmured a thank you and moved on, not waiting for a reply that would never come, hearing the way they muttered once they believed him well away.
Freak
Monster
Killer
Corpse lover
Blood drinker
The epithets were old, familiar, but they made him tired all the same. He passed through the doorway at the end of the hall, pausing only briefly to admire the bright paintings, the beautiful furniture, the soft rug and the way sunlight spilled across all of it. So much light and warmth.
Koray shivered and huddled in his robes, braced himself as he prepared to continue on past the waiting room and toward the throne room beyond. He began to move, feet trailing just a bit in the deep, soft carpet – then he faltered, stopped.
Just the slightest bit of warmth struck him, like the heat of distant flames, as he heard a door open. He turned, eyes widening in the shadows of his hood.
The Paladin. Bright steel armor trimmed in gold, the deep violet undertunic, the starburst crest over his heart. The sheer warmth that eminated from him. Koray fisted his hands in the ragged ends of his old tunic, burying them deep within the folds of his robe, making his feet hold still before he did something stupid and painful.
He was as beautiful as all the stories said, tall and proud, the elegant lines of noble breeding combined with the experience of a soldier. Blonde hair with the faintest hints of red deep within, skin darkened by the touch of the sun, eyes as clear and blue as a summer lake.
Eyes that currently looked at Koray with as much fear and distrust as everyone else showed.
Somehow…he’d been stupid enough to hope. The Paladin. The greatest of Knights, blessed by crown and Goddess, sworn to defend and protect all who dwelt in the King’s realm. Surely this man, a holy warrior who had promised to defend all, would give him the benefit of the doubt.
It would seem not. Biting down hard on the inside of his cheeks, focusing on that pain, ignoring all the rest – the endless cold, the ghosts that lurked even in this sun bright room, the constant lonliness – he drove it back, shoved it away, focused on what he knew.
His world was death, not life.
“You are the necromancer,” the Paladin said.
“Yes,” Koray answered. “My name is—“
“This way,” the Paladin interrupted, though Koray couldn’t tell if it was intentional or not. “He’s been most anxious to see this matter finished. Why was I not summoned immediately?” He seemed to say the last more to himself, leading the way through the set of doors in front of Koray, down the hallway and past the guards stationed at the end.
“Your Highness,” the Paladin, falling to one knee before the King.
Who also looked exactly as the few rumors he’d managed to hear had said. Were all Kings fat? It must be nice, to be so well fed. And dressed. So much silk and lawn, jewels the like of which he’d never seen…
Koray narrowed his eyes, grateful as ever for the shadows that hid his face. There was something about the King he didn’t like. The gleam in his brown eyes seemed…tainted.
The Ghosts in the room did not draw close, put off by the warmth and light of the unknowing Paladin. Koray fought the urge to move closer, to reach out and touch, see how warm the Paladin truly was.
^__________^ Well, see, I must encourage you because: 1. I love everything you write. 2. You create the most intriguing worlds and I can't wait to see what you're up to next... and 3. I have a thing for necromancers. ^^; Have two of my own, actually, but I've never been able to do them justice. ^^;;
So.... ^^ *waves fangirl flags* Go, go! Yay Maderr! Make Magic!!! *tee* ^^
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maderr
no subject
Date: 2006-06-07 12:11 am (UTC)It is such a necro name. >_>;
no subject
Date: 2006-06-07 01:47 am (UTC)^^ I went with Koray. and the Paladin is Sorin.
no subject
Date: 2006-06-07 01:28 am (UTC)*looks guilty* It hit me at work...
Date: 2006-06-07 01:46 am (UTC)(I'm already on page three of this sucker...)
The Necromancer
He walked with his head down so the hood fell forward, shadowing his face though he ached to feel the sun on it. It was inadequate as warmth went, but the best he could get outside the flask tucked beneath his tunic.
Silence fell as he walked along, matching him step for step. He knew without looking up that people were stopping in the middle of their chores, their conversations, to stare at him.
A short figure dressed in dark, bedraggled clothes that were meant to be worn in winter, not the middle of summer. They watched him, hoping to catch a glimpse of ‘death-pale skin’ or perhaps the ‘bones and blood’ his type always carried to perform their evil spells. Later, he knew, they would all claim to have smelled death on him, to have seen grave dirt in the folds of his robes.
His thoughts were interrupted by a child’s laugh as two of them ran across his path, one obviously chasing the other, playing a game that made them oblivious to the morbid curiosity and barely restrained hostility of the adults.
The chaser fell with a sharp cry on the hard cobblestone street, and Koray reached unthinkingly to help her up.
“Don’t touch my child you filthy monster!” A woman shrieked, and it was immediately joined by a cacophony of threats and epithets. Koray drew his hand back into the folds of his robe, feeling colder than ever. “My apologies,” he said, though he didn’t think the furious, trembling woman heard him – not that she would care if he did.
Tamping down on the familiar pain, telling himself it was all right, it didn’t matter, he was used to it, Koray pulled his head further into his hood and continued on, laughing bitterly at the way the people parted to let him pass.
Because as strong as their hate was, their fear was greater. If you angered a normal mage, the worst he could do was kill you.
Necromancers could do far worse than mere death.
Re: *looks guilty* It hit me at work...
Date: 2006-06-07 01:53 am (UTC)Re: *looks guilty* It hit me at work...
Date: 2006-06-07 01:58 am (UTC)*grumbles* You're not supposed to encourage me (but what is a writer if not an attention whore? Let's be serious):
Ignoring them, focusing only on the street and where he had to go, Koray left the people behind and made his way to the castle. He stopped at the gate and reached into his tunic, pulling out a small scroll and presenting it to the guards.
He pretended not to see the way they flinched, ignored the way they refused to touch the scroll. “The King is expecting you,” one guard managed, not looking at him as he motioned for the gate to be opened, then waved him inside.
“Thank you,” Koray murmured as he passed by them and into the castle proper.
The courtyard was simple stone, all of it well-laid and obviously quality, but simple all the same. Functional, but appealing for all that. He ignored the way guards and servants milling about stopped to stare at him.
Or tried. Everyone stared at Necromancers. After fifteen years of it, he should be accustomed. He wished someone would teach him the trick of growing used to being hated and feared before they even bothered to learn so much as his name.
Why had he agreed to this audience? The King could have found another necromancer eventually.
Koray hunched his shoulders, fisting his hands to keep them from trembling as ghosts began to assault him – sapping his energy to appear, pleading with him, crying, showing what had been done to him, begging him to help, the words all soundless because he had not the strength to give any of them voice. He shivered, cold, and pulled his robes more tightly around him, envious of those who could gain warmth simply by standing in the sun.
He presented his scroll, a royal order from the King, to the next set of guards. They backed hastily away, pointing down the hallway. Koray murmured a thank you and moved on, not waiting for a reply that would never come, hearing the way they muttered once they believed him well away.
Freak
Monster
Killer
Corpse lover
Blood drinker
The epithets were old, familiar, but they made him tired all the same. He passed through the doorway at the end of the hall, pausing only briefly to admire the bright paintings, the beautiful furniture, the soft rug and the way sunlight spilled across all of it. So much light and warmth.
Re: *looks guilty* It hit me at work...
Date: 2006-06-07 01:59 am (UTC)Koray shivered and huddled in his robes, braced himself as he prepared to continue on past the waiting room and toward the throne room beyond. He began to move, feet trailing just a bit in the deep, soft carpet – then he faltered, stopped.
Just the slightest bit of warmth struck him, like the heat of distant flames, as he heard a door open. He turned, eyes widening in the shadows of his hood.
The Paladin. Bright steel armor trimmed in gold, the deep violet undertunic, the starburst crest over his heart. The sheer warmth that eminated from him. Koray fisted his hands in the ragged ends of his old tunic, burying them deep within the folds of his robe, making his feet hold still before he did something stupid and painful.
He was as beautiful as all the stories said, tall and proud, the elegant lines of noble breeding combined with the experience of a soldier. Blonde hair with the faintest hints of red deep within, skin darkened by the touch of the sun, eyes as clear and blue as a summer lake.
Eyes that currently looked at Koray with as much fear and distrust as everyone else showed.
Somehow…he’d been stupid enough to hope. The Paladin. The greatest of Knights, blessed by crown and Goddess, sworn to defend and protect all who dwelt in the King’s realm. Surely this man, a holy warrior who had promised to defend all, would give him the benefit of the doubt.
It would seem not. Biting down hard on the inside of his cheeks, focusing on that pain, ignoring all the rest – the endless cold, the ghosts that lurked even in this sun bright room, the constant lonliness – he drove it back, shoved it away, focused on what he knew.
His world was death, not life.
“You are the necromancer,” the Paladin said.
“Yes,” Koray answered. “My name is—“
“This way,” the Paladin interrupted, though Koray couldn’t tell if it was intentional or not. “He’s been most anxious to see this matter finished. Why was I not summoned immediately?” He seemed to say the last more to himself, leading the way through the set of doors in front of Koray, down the hallway and past the guards stationed at the end.
“Your Highness,” the Paladin, falling to one knee before the King.
Who also looked exactly as the few rumors he’d managed to hear had said. Were all Kings fat? It must be nice, to be so well fed. And dressed. So much silk and lawn, jewels the like of which he’d never seen…
Koray narrowed his eyes, grateful as ever for the shadows that hid his face. There was something about the King he didn’t like. The gleam in his brown eyes seemed…tainted.
The Ghosts in the room did not draw close, put off by the warmth and light of the unknowing Paladin. Koray fought the urge to move closer, to reach out and touch, see how warm the Paladin truly was.
* * *
And that's all I got for now ^^
<3
*encourages*
Date: 2006-06-07 02:06 am (UTC)So.... ^^ *waves fangirl flags* Go, go! Yay Maderr! Make Magic!!! *tee* ^^
Re: *looks guilty* It hit me at work...
Date: 2006-06-07 04:54 am (UTC)Poor baby. WHY do you keep pandering to my hurt-comfort addiction?
Re: *looks guilty* It hit me at work...
Date: 2006-06-07 12:57 pm (UTC)Seriously. *concur*
no subject
Date: 2006-06-07 05:54 am (UTC)*encourages* too