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The Necromancer |
| Written by Gregg | |
| Wednesday, 20 August 2008 | |
Zardo stared at the strange man in front of him. The most striking thing about him was that he was incredibly clean. His skin and hair were almost shiny from cleanliness, his clothes were bright and unfaded, and his teeth were pure white, as if they had not seen a day of use in the man's life. The man, clearly becoming uncomfortable, faked a smile and asked, "Can I help you, sir?" He spoke the people's language with a thick and horrible accent which sounded much like his native tongue, dull and monotonous. "I need to know," Zardo responded slowly, "what is the source of your magic? I have seen what your people can do. Everyone in the village has. You came here in great metal wagons which move on their own accord. You can start a fire instantly with a small object. Even your tents are made with a material magically treated to be incredibly light but strong. This blatant display of power might impress most in the village, but not me. I am a priest. I am familiar with magic. Throughout my lifetime I have healed the sick, made crops grow and joined many souls in marriage. I am the hub around which this village revolves. My magic is that of Amu, lord of the skies. My mission is to keep his favor, and to serve his will and the will of my people. I have told you the source of my magic. Why won't you tell me yours? Ever since your people arrived you have been cryptic. You refuse to give a straight answer. Where does your magic come from? What god do you have favor with?" "It's not actually magic, you see. Everything we use is the result of technology. Everything we use that might seem magical was invented by someone. Someone figured out how to make all these things out of pure ingenuity. An example of technology in your community is a bow. It can be used to kill an animal from a great distance. Someone who had never seen a bow before might think this to be the result of magic, but it is nothing more than the clever use of wood and string. Our fire starters and automobiles are nothing more than that, the clever use of good materials." "Do not take me for a fool. As a priest I recognize magic when I see it, especially when it is as powerful as yours. You surely understand why I mistrust you so much. As you know, magic with an unknown source is a dangerous thing. For all I know you and your people could be practitioners of black magic, necromancy, or demonic possession. This concerns me, especially since a member of my village-one for whom I am spiritually responsible-is in your care." The farmer named Napu had been attacked by a bear the previous day and was found in his field, badly injured and bleeding profusely. The strangers offered to take care of him and no one objected except for Zardo. "I can see there is some misunderstanding between us, but I can assure you we are not making any attempt at deception. Our technology is made entirely without magic. In time we can teach you how it is made. Once a school is built here that information can become available to every child who comes of age." Zardo's heart burned with anger at the perpetuation of this lie. He ignored this last comment, and asked, "May I visit Napu so I can see what you have done to him?" "We normally prefer to limit the number of visitors when someone is in such critical condition as he is, but since you are his spiritual leader, we can make an exception." The man led Zardo across the encampment to a large tent. Upon entering the tent, Zardo was horrified. Napu lay in a bed with his eyes shut. There were gashes on the side of his face and his arms that were sewn shut. An object with long tubes protruding from it covered his nose and mouth, and a transparent bag of blood was suspended over him. A tube was attached to the bag and inserted into Napu's arm, allowing the foreign blood to enter his body. An enormously tall man wearing a long white coat stood by Napu's bed. He was examining a thin sheet of a stiff material imprinted with the ethereal image of a glowing skeleton. "In the name of Amu!" Zardo shrieked, "You have led me into the lair of a necromancer!" "Sir, please..." the tall man began. "Silence!" Zardo unsheathed his dagger from his belt, "You have no business meddling in the most unholy of magics! That man was meant to stay dead! You tore his soul from the gods' grasp on his moment of death and reanimated him. For this you will never be forgiven! As a priest of Amu my soul will unite with the lord of the skies that he may come down and invoke his wrath upon you!" Both the strangers screamed as Zardo plunged his dagger into his own heart. Copyright 2008 Gregg |
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| Last Updated ( Wednesday, 20 August 2008 ) |
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