26. Friendly Campfire Chatter

Lorelai wrung her hands together nervously as she trailed at the back of the group. She was allowing the others to lead the way to the elven encampment, presumably the one Amadia promised would contain answers, and Lorelai felt ill. She would finally, after more than four thousand years, know what happened to her daughter. She would know if she had any living family, how her clan had fared after her death, and maybe even some details about the life she barely remembered anymore. If this was not the correct clan, however, or if Amadia had deceived her again, Lorelai would be crushed. The anticipation was unbearable, and she wanted to scream.

They would likely not arrive today, so Lorelai dreaded the next few hours of travel, then a long night during which she would be doing little else but drowning in her abject anxiety. She needed a distraction, but there was nothing nearby to help.

"You're looking nervous," Ifan commented, and Lorelai jumped. She had been so preoccupied that she had not noticed him slowing to match her pace. Ifan gave her a calming smile and held up his hands peaceably. "Sorry, didn't mean to surprise you."

"No, I am…" Lorelai took a deep breath to keep her voice from shaking, and her body decided to tremble instead. Ifan gripped her arm tightly, and Lorelai took another deep breath. "I… am nervous, yes," she managed to say.

"You should be excited!" Ifan cheered with a bright laugh that worked wonders to soothe Lorelai. "Just think, you might have family!"

"Yes, indeed," Lorelai said. For some reason, everything sounded more positive when Ifan articulated it. Lorelai carefully removed his hand from her arm, and he cast her a quick glance of disappointment that instantly disappeared when she instead clutched at his hand with her own. "Perhaps Amadia… truly wishes to help," Lorelai murmured, more to herself than anything, and Ifan squeezed her hand.

"Don't get your hopes up for that," he said with a bark of laughter, "but she is trying to butter you up, right? That means this should be good news."

"Yes," Lorelai said. "Good news." She took a third deep breath, this one far less shaky than the others, and nodded briskly. "Yes," she repeated, then smiled. "And it might be cathartic to speak with a proper clan of elves again."

Ifan was smiling back, but his expression slowly dropped into something far more pensive, troubled. Lorelai was about to inquire on the change when Ifan abruptly dropped her hand, gave Lorelai an awkward nod, and essentially ran away to stand near Fane at the front of the group. Lorelai watched him in bafflement for a few seconds, but he did not turn around even once.

After Lorelai reclaimed her wits, she bit her lip uncertainly. "Sebille, I need your opinion," Lorelai called out. Sebille paused so that she was lagging beside Lorelai and looked at her expectantly.

When Lorelai opened her mouth, however, she realized that she had nothing concrete to say, that she had only some vague emotions that were all mixing together into some sort of terrifically toxic concoction. She did not know where to start.

"Please, tell me this is not about our resident Lone Wolf," Sebille sighed, and Lorelai glanced at her in surprise before her eyes darted to Ifan to make sure he had not overheard. This offer of a specific topic, one specific set of emotions, allowed Lorelai to concentrate.

"It… is about Ifan," Lorelai confessed in a mumble, only half-lying. She felt a light blush cross her face as the Ifan-centric feelings were dragged to the forefront of her mind. Sebille gave her an exasperated glare but waved a hand for Lorelai to continue. "I… well, I very much like Ifan, and he seems to reciprocate, but…" Lorelai found herself hesitating. She did not often hesitate, as she acted with the assuredness from experience. This, however, was uncharted territory for her. "I do not know his expectations," Lorelai said briskly, "and I worry that… when I am wearing my mask, he forgets I am an Undead of four thousand years."

"Does that matter?" Sebille asked bluntly. "You have already been sleeping with Fane, correct? What is the difference?" Lorelai cast a surprised glance at Sebille, who was smirking right back. "Darling, I know everyone's secrets," Sebille said coyly.

Lorelai blinked, then laughed. She noticed offhand that Ifan looked behind him when she did so, but Lorelai could not read his expression and he looked away before they made eye contact. "It is different," Lorelai told Sebille. She grinned widely at Sebille and lowered her voice. "I suppose the feelings are different," she said.

Sebille grimaced and rolled her eyes. "Darling, please do not begin spouting off about love. I do not think my black heart can handle such a thing."

Lorelai giggled and shook her head. "No, not love," she assured Sebille, who breathed out an exaggerated sigh of relief. "I hardly know Ifan, after all, and that is the problem. The bloody human is shut more tightly than a barrel of Deathfog. See, I have never quite had much opportunity to like someone or… fall in love, and I wonder if I am latching onto the first person I saw the moment I found the mask."

"I… do not know if I am the best person to talk to about this," Sebille said uncomfortably.

"Consider my options."

Sebille surveyed the others for a moment, smirked, then nodded. "Always flattered to be the last resort," she drawled, but she considered Lorelai thoughtfully the next moment. "The way I see it," Sebille said slowly, "you, darling, have the nasty habit of latching onto anyone you see. Since, then, you feel… differently towards the self-righteous tormented mercenary"—Lorelai had to stifle a laugh—"then I would guess you are honestly… feeling."

Lorelai hummed as she considered Sebille's words, and she felt another blush rise on her face when she realized the implications. "I see," Lorelai managed to say as her mind filled with thoughts of how Ifan's eyes tended to change whenever he looked at her.

Sebille sighed heavily and gave Lorelai an exasperated glare. "Darling. I have grown fond of you, so allow me to give you some advice: Before you truly give anyone a piece of your heart, make certain it will be cherished."

"Yes," Lorelai murmured, some of her eagerness fading into worry.

"Perhaps I am wrong," Sebille continued, "but you strike me as one to devote yourself completely to the person of your choosing. Do not settle for anything less than full reciprocation." Sebille gave Lorelai an intense stare. "Do you understand?" she asked.

Lorelai nodded and clasped both hands in front of her chest. "Thank you, dear one," she said warmly. "I understand."

Sebille offered a curt nod and casually gestured ahead to Ifan. "If you truly wish to get something out of… that," she said with unconcealed disdain towards the mercenary, "you must act soon. We both know how quickly humans die."

Lorelai blanched, her heart growing heavy at the thought of Ifan—or any of her friends—dying.

Sebille noticed Lorelai's expression and raised a brow. "You don't have to dwell on everyone's mortality," Sebille said dryly, "but I thought I should mention it."

"And I thank you," Lorelai replied. "I believe I shall take your advice."

"Smart choice." Sebille looked around and smirked. "Unfortunately for you, darling, it's about time to make camp. No chance to speak to your dearest love alone."

Lorelai snorted out a laugh but nodded. "Indeed. It seems the luck you gave me may have run out."

"If my luck does not apply," Sebille said, "then perhaps that course of action should be avoided."

"Sebille, you are very contradictory," Lorelai said in exasperation. "Do you approve of Ifan and me or not?"

"I do not approve," Sebille replied airily, "but I have just enough faith in your judgement to give you the benefit of the doubt."

"I shall take that as a compliment and your blessing," Lorelai decided, and she answered Sebille's withering stare with a smile. "We ought to make camp before it grows too dark," Lorelai called to the others before Sebille could retort properly.

Fane sighed but paused, and Ifan trotted to Lorelai the moment she spoke. He spared Sebille not a glance, keeping his warm gaze locked on Lorelai. Noticing this, Sebille tossed Lorelai a mocking salute and moved away to set up a campfire.

"I think it was a good first day in the Reaper's Coast," Ifan said to Lorelai, his eyes twinkling with humor. "Nearly arrested, hiding in a crime den, and camping in the wilderness? Dream of dreams, eh?"

"I especially enjoyed our time together in the crime den," Lorelai quipped, causing Ifan to blink rapidly, glance away, and smile.

"Like I said," Ifan replied in a murmur, "a good day."

"Should we talk about what exactly happened?" Lorelai asked carefully.

Ifan scratched his head and eyed Sebille, who was likely still in earshot. "Later," he said quietly, "but, yes, I'd… I'd like to talk about it. Us."

"Mm. Good," Lorelai said with satisfaction. She gave Ifan a gentle pat on the cheek and went to Sebille. She held her hands over the blossoming flames, smiling at the warmth permeating through her palms.

"Oh, Lorelai, I almost forgot," Fane said from across the flames. He rifled through his bag momentarily before fishing out a thick book. He waved it towards Lorelai, so she circled the campfire to take it from him.

"An Encyclopedia of the Most Influential Necromancers of Our Time," Lorelai read the title. "Ooh," she gasped. "I have never read this one!"

Ifan and Sebille both craned their heads over Lorelai's shoulders to gaze at the book. "Why such excitement, darling?" Sebille inquired while Lorelai eagerly thumbed through the pages.

"I have been trying to determine the accuracies of your necromancers," Fane said, and Lorelai glanced to him. "I thought you might be able to help in that regard."

"Oh, interested in my kind, are we?" Lorelai laughed. "I am flattered, dear one."

"Yes, somewhat," Fane replied, "but mostly interested in human bias against the general concept of Undead creatures."

"I can absolutely help in that regard," Lorelai stated. "I could easily find necromancers I know and fact-check. That could be a quaint evening exercise, yes?"

"Sounds interesting," Ifan acknowledged, and Sebille nodded her agreement. Ifan sat down on Lorelai's left, Sebille at her right, and Fane remained slightly farther, his own notebook out and ready.

Lorelai flipped pages of the book with a hum of concentration, searching for recognizable names. "Aha," she murmured, tapping a bony finger against an entry. "Mortis the Manic," she began. Lorelai snickered in anticipation and continued the entry:

'Mortis the Manic was notorious for murdering anyone who knew his real name. Thus, he protected himself against anyone who would use his true name to gain power over him. Even now, all evidence of Mortis' name has been carefully erased.'

"First of all, his real name was Tavernus," Lorelai said derisively. "We bullied him into telling the story: He was born behind a tavern and his parents were unimaginative."

"At least he was intelligent enough to try to hide his true name," Fane offered, and Lorelai giggled.

"Hardly," she said. "It was pure embarrassment on his part."

"With good reason," Ifan laughed, and Lorelai nodded furiously. She returned to the book.

'Mortis gained his moniker from his frequent fits of anger that usually resulted in the complete annihilation of one of his living or Undead subjects. It is rumored that Mortis even murdered his parents and resurrected them for the sole purpose of killing them again.'

"That bit is true," Lorelai acknowledged. "It does not mention, however, that he hated his parents so passionately because of how they named him."

"Fits of anger that resulted in him annihilating Undead?" Ifan quoted. "Sounds dangerous."

"He was terribly insecure, and he sought constant validation from his life story," Lorelai explained. "Those who did not oblige were often killed." She snickered. "Divines, we used to call him Mortis the Mucker or Tavernus the Tosser. If we insulted him enough, he would boast about his achievements and life, inadvertently giving us even more ammunition against him. We might have tormented him even more than he tormented us."

"We?"

"The other imprisoned Undead and I," she replied. "He was very easy to provoke. That either led him to disintegrate someone, or to make a mistake that allowed one of us to escape."

"Fun," Sebille drawled. Lorelai nodded and continued the book.

'Mortis the Manic was eventually killed by an escaped lich who drained the necromancer of all Source and left him an empty husk. The lich responsible was captured and killed a decade later by Shirana (see page 171, Shirana).'

"Oh, I did not know that Richard had died," Lorelai lamented. "He was the one who freed us all—a strange creature, but a wonderful sense of humor."

"Are you implying that the lich was named… Richard?" Fane asked carefully, and Lorelai nodded.

"Obviously, that was not his true name," Lorelai said. "And, again, he had a grand sense of humor." Lorelai skimmed the rest of passage, but it was only boring facts about the man's experiments and discoveries. She turned a few pages until she found another name that she recognized. "The Lady Echo of the Evening Breeze," Lorelai read.

"That's quite the name," Ifan chimed in.

"Mmhm, let us see if the author managed to analyze her personality correctly, shall we?" Lorelai chuckled and smoothed out the pages.

'The Lady Echo of the Evening Breeze—born, Marcy of Verdistis—was well-known for her eccentricity, which is best exemplified by her chosen name. She reportedly danced through the streets of Verdistis nearly every evening while wearing a ballroom gown, usually accompanied by a skeletal animal similarly dressed. The Lady Echo of the Evening Breeze was undoubtedly mad, but her experiments revealed many important ties between auditory resonance and bone composition.'

Lorelai paused and reread that sentence. "Auditory resonance and bone composition," she repeated aloud, amused. "That, my friends, is a sophisticated way of saying that she used Undead as instruments in her homemade orchestra."

"What…?" Ifan asked.

"The Lady Echo of the Evening Breeze would tap different Undead's bones with sticks and blow wind through our eyes and the like to make different whistling noises," Lorelai explained.

"For… what purpose?" Fane inquired, just as baffled as the others, and Lorelai shrugged.

"As the author says, she was undoubtedly mad," she replied. When no one contested that, Lorelai turned back to the book.

'The Lady Echo of the Evening Breeze attempted to host musical performances with sentient Undead as instruments, but she was—shockingly—never hired as an entertainer. The Lady Echo of the Evening Breeze was, on the other hand, a successful seamstress. She was rumored to be especially skilled at making beautiful coverings for Undead trying to hide themselves among the living.'

"That is how I met her," Lorelai explained. "I had heard rumors of a seamstress who welcomed Undead clients, and I was utterly delighted to find that to be true. She made the most stunning and clever wrappings—expensive, but worth it."

"Are all necromancers… touched in the head?" Sebille asked.

"As far as I know, yes," Lorelai stated. "Now, enough about The Lady Echo…" Lorelai murmured. "Maudlin Maude," she read. "Oh, dear."

'Maude of the Old Islands, better known as 'Maudlin Maude,' is a figure shrouded—no pun intended—in mystery. Little is known about her personally, but rumors say she is an Undead from the Empire existing nearly ten thousand years ago.'

Lorelai paused and skimmed a few more paragraphs, murmuring the words under her breath with a frown. "The author of this book believes the rumors to be nonsense," Lorelai said disapprovingly, "because Maude has flesh. The imps have the technology to make animatronic skeletons or suits of dead flesh for appearance's sake. Everything the author says about Maude is utter nonsense," she snorted. "To be fair, I have never met her myself, but…" Lorelai shook her head and flipped a few more pages. After a moment, she gasped. "Mazirel Dekk of the House of War," she read. Lorelai nodded to Sebille. "This was the lizard who dismembered me," she said. Sebille grinned savagely while Ifan looked alarmed. "I wonder if it says anything about me," she murmured, skimming the paragraphs for a mention of his death. "Aha!" she cried soon enough.

'Mazirel Dekk spent the last year of his life boasting of his latest experiment. He had managed to capture an Undead of four thousand years who could regenerate bone at will. Mazirel invited many to see this Undead, and sources say that the creature was remarkably forthcoming. It professed to be the work of Dominik of Silverleaf (see page 115, Dominik of Silverleaf Forest).

The fatal mistake of Mazirel Dekk was…'

Lorelai trailed off and laughed nervously. "This goes into more detail than I expected," she said. "Let us go back to The Lady Echo of the Evening Breeze."

Lorelai made to turn the pages of the book, but Ifan plucked it from her hands. "Some of your secrets are revealed, eh?" he laughed. He smirked playfully at her and began to read where Lorelai had left off:

'The fatal mistake of Mazirel Dekk was his gullible assurance that the Undead was a docile creature. Mazirel Dekk grew complacent, and the Undead managed to escape. Mazirel Dekk was discovered two weeks later in a highly disturbing state, though still alive.

Witnesses described the scene as gruesome butchery. Mazirel Dekk's arms and legs had been removed and displayed carefully around his workshop. Mazirel himself was nothing but a torso and head, his wounds violently cauterized to prevent him from bleeding out. Most of his scales were melted off, his tongue was cut, and his eyes were crushed into the sockets. Most assume that Mazirel Dekk was awake during this torture.

Mazirel Dekk managed to survive for three years afterwards under the reluctant care of his sister until he eventually died of self-starvation.

The Undead responsible is likely still at large and considered severely dangerous. The creature has been sighted on other occasions, recognizable by its charred bones and distinctive tattoos. Approach it at your own risk.'

There was a long silence during which Lorelai shifted uncomfortably.

"Oh… wow," Ifan managed. He looked as though he now realized that this was more serious than he had originally thought. "All right."

"I did not expect such detail, else I would not have begun the entry," Lorelai said quickly. "All I can say is that I was… ehm, quite upset at the time."

"He dismembered you, so you returned the favor," Sebille said airily. "That sounds perfectly fair."

"Mm," Lorelai murmured, but she did not feel up to rehashing this conversation. "Now, that entry mentioned Dominik, correct?" she cheerfully changed the subject. "Page one hundred fifteen?" She took the book from Ifan's hands and flipped pages until she found it. "Dominik of Silverleaf Forest," she began.

'Dominik of Silverleaf Forest was active before the time frame on which this book focuses, but he deserves a mention due to his indirect involvement with the death of Mazirel Dekk (see page 71, Mazirel Dekk of the House of War). Little is known about Dominik of Silverleaf Forest, since he was reclusive and never officially published. The source of most of this information is his violent Undead who brutally tortured at least one necromancer.'

"Bloody divines, why must they focus on that one incident?" Lorelai muttered. "No one seems to care that most of these necromancers tortured people and various Undead creatures to death on a regular basis." She huffed and continued reading.

'As a young boy, Dominik was said to be withdrawn yet frightfully intelligent, gifted with a near-perfect memory. He became known as 'the Child of Death' since he reportedly began practicing necromancy at the tender age of eleven, shortly after both of his parents died. Dominik occupied an abandoned cabin deep within Silverleaf Forest, and it was mysteriously unreachable for the nearby townsfolk in Silverleaf Village.

Dominik only reappeared a decade later, visiting the town on occasion with a suspiciously hooded creature following. Eyewitnesses report that the creature was a horrific, misshapen thing that screeched gibberish and terrorized the local children. This was likely his Undead.

It is unknown when, where, or even if Dominik of Silverleaf Forest died. His cabin became reachable one day, perfectly clean and abandoned with no sign of any occupants. His body has not been found, and his Undead is likely still at large.'

"Hm, that was a short entry," Lorelai grumbled. "Everyone else had long, boring pages about their many successful experiments and the like, but not Dominik." Lorelai sighed and stared at the inked pages. "Though… I suppose he never did share his findings," she mumbled, mostly to herself.

"What was all that about the horrible, misshapen thing that screeched gibberish and terrorized the local children?" Sebille asked with a crafty smile.

Lorelai giggled. "Well, a tall, skinny form in a bulky robe would have looked quite frightening, yes? I spoke in Elven in public most of the time, so I suppose that is the gibberish to which they referred. As for terrorizing children… I do remember speaking with the children on occasion until their parents shooed me away or threw rocks."

"Imbeciles," Fane muttered.

"In this case, I may be inclined to agree with you," Lorelai admitted. Lorelai regarded the book for a moment. "One more," she decided, "and that shall be all for tonight."

"Any more skeletons in the closet, darling?" Sebille asked coyly.

"Not as many as the necromancers," Lorelai shot back with a laugh.

"Sure you didn't maul anyone else?" Ifan asked dryly. There was a hint of challenge in his tone that exceeded simple ribbing.

Lorelai stilled, unnaturally so, and slowly shut the book. She held Ifan's gaze silently for a moment before she rose to her feet. "Ifan," she said quietly, unable to keep a low growl from her voice, "in the many years before and after I died, I have, in fact, acted rashly on occasion."

Ifan opened his mouth as though to speak, but Lorelai did not give him the chance.

"None of you can understand the reverence with which I treat my bones, the amount of personal history and misery recorded on the surface of my body, or the years of work by myself and others to manufacture my specific bone composition," she rumbled dangerously. "Can you comprehend the utter violation of witnessing something you hold so dear be torn apart and studied with such dispassion, such selfishness? Do you know the terror of being held immobile while you watch your own body be tampered with by someone who considers you nothing but an object, an inferior monster?" Lorelai shook her head, biting back pure rage. "A similar incident killed me so long ago, and I was frightened, angry, and vengeful," Lorelai snapped. "Do not judge me for that."

In the awkward silence that followed, Lorelai snapped her fingers, materializing Bunny.

"Stay with them," Lorelai ordered Bunny briskly. Bunny hissed her acknowledgement and curled up with a large yawn. Lorelai spun on a heel and stormed off into the forest. She needed to cool down before someone got hurt.