The Necrologer
1
Morgenar had been the palace guard from the beginning. Lady Leslie, bless her soul, had told that centaurs from the forests were to come out from their primitiveness and be the palace guards of Terabithia. At first, all of the centaurs, Morgenar among them, had been confused (they had just been Created, how could they primitive?) but nevertheless obeyed the command of the Creator, Lady Leslie.
They never found any trouble, but they still trained heavily. Lady Leslie had created a trainer that would help the palace guard keep everyone and everything out. Mickfried had died years ago, and Morgenar didn't really remember him. He didn't remember what Mickfried said about necromancers.
He had almost dreamed it, then it became a truth: he kissed the Lady Renamoirr, when he suddenly stopped. He heard something. Something outside the window. There was something outside the window, and it had better be important, Lady Renamoirr didn't give good kisses to males that much. Morgenar had been special, that was important. But screams and blood and shouts seemed importanter.
"Morg!" Lady Renamoirr wailed. "Morgie, what is it now?"
"Something outside," Morgenar whispered. He got off the bed, got a shirt on, and walked towards the window. What was it? Screaming and shouting and blood...
Definitely blood. He could smell it, centaurs can smell blood, especially centaur and faun blood, and Morgenar was one of the best Sniffers in the tribe. There was something bloody going on, and it wasn't a hoof fight, hooves gave bruises, not cuts, this was something with swords, something that smelled
Otherworldy. Necropolis like. Dead.
Necromancers didn't come to Terabithia that much. A long time ago, when they had to move out of Narnia, he had learned that once a Creator died, part of his or her soul got separated and returned to the world created. It became a necromancer. Morgenar cried out immediately, and started sobbing, holding his mustached face to his hands. At first, Lady Renamoirr could smell the scent of another mate, a friend of Morgenar's and in the defense pod. It was his blood, perhaps he was dead.
No, Morgenar was sobbing at the death. The death of the Creator. Once this battle was over, they would realize that there was a necromancer about, and that the Creator was dead. Dead! How could Lady Leslie die like that?
That's what he was thinking when the floor came up on him. It had imploded, a series of the necromancer's zombies and offered themselves as Kamikaze. They were killing as many people in the palace as they could, perhaps they were blowing up the palace to ambush Lady Leslie (she was dead!) and Lord Jesse and that new one, (if there was a new one, why would there be) the Delicate Princess(?)
Morgenar and Lady Renamoirr flew into the air, screaming. Morgenar was immediately grateful he had put on a shirt, exposing his manliness wouldn't be at all appreciated by Lady Leslie (she was dead, Morgenar, she is dead!). Hopefully by the time he would land, he would be separated from Lady Renamoirr and their love wouldn't be exposed.
He landed softly by some bricks that he imagined (stop imagining things, that's for Lady Leslie (Lady Leslie, she is dead!), you're not a creator) into soft pillows, and he nearly bounced. He looked to the side, and almost spewed; why was he so stupid? Why didn't he imagine (no imagining!) pillows for her, she was dead (Leslie is dead), her love exposed and her body laying on the ground, next to a...
Woman. A pale woman, with bare feet and zombies around her.
The Necromancer. The Necrologer. The White Witch. The Witch. Jadis. No Aslan this time.
"Hello, Morgie!" she greeted with a smirk, imagining away the pillows, and stomping Morgenar's head into the ground. "Good bye," she whispered. She walked away and said to the zombies, "Devour him, and take his soul as well. I expect him to report tomorrow in your pod, understand?"
