The rest of the morning went pretty slowly for Linalia. She had made
some progress with Xeron. He was at least to the point of accepting that
she was there and wasn't leaving anytime soon. Getting any farther,
however, was proving to be challenging. After some more talking and a
small argument, Xeron was curled up, facing the wall again. Frustrated,
Linalia realized that part of her problem was hunger. With a meal in her
stomach, she might be able to think more clearly. Leaving the room, she
headed downstairs in search of the kitchen. After all, she thought, even
Necromancers need to eat . . .
Returning some time later, Linalia discovered that Xeron's position hadn't changed much. He was still facing the wall, not moving as she entered. The sight reminded Linalia of a little child. Now, with food in her belly, she was sure she would be able to figure out just who Xeron really was.
"You can't just lay in bed all day, you know," she started. Not the best start, but she hoped it could at least coax him to respond. It didn't.
"Are you even going to talk to me? Because I'm not going to leave you alone until you do," she persisted, using the only weapon she seemed to have against him, at this point; annoyance.
Xeron sighed slightly, still facing the wall. "Fine. If it will make you go away, I will talk."
Linalia stopped for a moment, gathering her thoughts. This was the key point in the conversation . . . she had achieved the edge, had his ear and his willing response. She had to choose her words carefully, as not to throw him back into silence. She sat down on the bed, deciding that getting as physically close to him as possible might aid her in her desire to get mentally close to him as well.
"Well, I've been wondering," she started. "How exactly did you become a necromancer, anyway?"
There was a long silence. Had this been the wrong thing to ask? It was probably a sensitive subject . . . Would he willingly speak of it?
"I guess," he said, when at last he did speak, "it started when I was very young. Probably about thirteen."
Linalia nodded. She felt proud of herself for making it this far . . . for opening this door. She was sure that understanding his childhood was the key to understanding him.
"I didn't have many friends," he continued, his voice an emotionless monotone. "Most of the other children ignored me. I hated them . . . but I hated the ones who didn't ignore me even more. They taunted me endlessly. I wasn't very athletic at the time . . . and that's all they seemed to judge people based on; strength, endurance, and athletic ability. So while I focused on my studies, they beat me up between classes."
Linalia felt a bit of a cold chill. She thought back to her own childhood, where she had witnessed similar behavior. Although she imagined it was more severe among the humans than it was among the elves, she had seen athletic elven boys picking on those who could not hold their own. It was a behavior she had never understood.
"Why?" she persisted. "Why did they hurt you?"
Xeron paused, then continued in his cold, emotionless voice. "It was because I did better than them in class. I was smarter than all of them, and always did wonderful on tests. They envied me, perhaps. Naturally, threatened with more beatings, more severe each time, I tried doing badly on purpose. As soon as I did, however, I was beaten at home, instead."
Linalia bit her lip. This was exactly what she had expected, from what she knew of Necromancers, but still, it was sad to hear such a real and specific example. No love among peers, no love at home . . . how could a child be expected to deal with that?
"There seemed no place to turn," Xeron continued, still barring all emotion from his voice. "If I did well, I was beaten at school. If I did badly, I was beaten at home. Those seemed my only options, and neither of them was good. That was the way it seemed, at least, until I discovered the third option."
Linalia knew this part . . . it was obvious what third option he had discovered. She let him continue, anyway.
"I found the books that everyone said not to read. Said the words they said not to say. I went to a graveyard . . . I made my first zombie. From that day forward, nobody ever beat on me again."
Linalia was on the verge of tears. This man . . . this supposedly evil man who she had come to hunt . . . this man was not evil at all. He did not hate simply for the sake of hating . . . he had reasons. Although, like anyone else, Linalia hoped she would have made a better choice, if put in the same situation . . . but she could not say for certain that she would have.
She looked over at Xeron. He was still stone-faced. Was he sad? Was he angry? There was no way to tell how any of this was affecting him. She supposed he had spent years suppressing these emotions, and unlocking them now was not going to be a small task. She'd be damned, however, before she gave up without trying.
"How," she asked," do you feel about all this now?"
Xeron finally turned to her, for the first time since that morning. His features were like an ivory wall . . . cold and hard, keeping everything inside. Only his eyes betrayed him. Deep within those amazing blue eyes, Linalia saw his sadness. Perhaps he wasn't even aware of it himself, but she saw it.
Linalia caught herself staring. His soft-looking black hair, his pale, but attractive face . . . none of it would have meant anything to her, if it weren't for his eyes. Because of those eyes, however, she had seen beauty in him . . . and now she could see that beauty in all of his features.
In the end, though, it was Xeron who broke the stare. He collapsed; his strength gone. Linalia caught him, then smiled slightly as she held his face to her, gently, like a mother holding a child. She had broken though his barriers and found her way into his heart . . . of this, she was proud. Now that heart needed healing. She wondered if she was really up to the task. Well, she had come this far. There was no turning back now.
Returning some time later, Linalia discovered that Xeron's position hadn't changed much. He was still facing the wall, not moving as she entered. The sight reminded Linalia of a little child. Now, with food in her belly, she was sure she would be able to figure out just who Xeron really was.
"You can't just lay in bed all day, you know," she started. Not the best start, but she hoped it could at least coax him to respond. It didn't.
"Are you even going to talk to me? Because I'm not going to leave you alone until you do," she persisted, using the only weapon she seemed to have against him, at this point; annoyance.
Xeron sighed slightly, still facing the wall. "Fine. If it will make you go away, I will talk."
Linalia stopped for a moment, gathering her thoughts. This was the key point in the conversation . . . she had achieved the edge, had his ear and his willing response. She had to choose her words carefully, as not to throw him back into silence. She sat down on the bed, deciding that getting as physically close to him as possible might aid her in her desire to get mentally close to him as well.
"Well, I've been wondering," she started. "How exactly did you become a necromancer, anyway?"
There was a long silence. Had this been the wrong thing to ask? It was probably a sensitive subject . . . Would he willingly speak of it?
"I guess," he said, when at last he did speak, "it started when I was very young. Probably about thirteen."
Linalia nodded. She felt proud of herself for making it this far . . . for opening this door. She was sure that understanding his childhood was the key to understanding him.
"I didn't have many friends," he continued, his voice an emotionless monotone. "Most of the other children ignored me. I hated them . . . but I hated the ones who didn't ignore me even more. They taunted me endlessly. I wasn't very athletic at the time . . . and that's all they seemed to judge people based on; strength, endurance, and athletic ability. So while I focused on my studies, they beat me up between classes."
Linalia felt a bit of a cold chill. She thought back to her own childhood, where she had witnessed similar behavior. Although she imagined it was more severe among the humans than it was among the elves, she had seen athletic elven boys picking on those who could not hold their own. It was a behavior she had never understood.
"Why?" she persisted. "Why did they hurt you?"
Xeron paused, then continued in his cold, emotionless voice. "It was because I did better than them in class. I was smarter than all of them, and always did wonderful on tests. They envied me, perhaps. Naturally, threatened with more beatings, more severe each time, I tried doing badly on purpose. As soon as I did, however, I was beaten at home, instead."
Linalia bit her lip. This was exactly what she had expected, from what she knew of Necromancers, but still, it was sad to hear such a real and specific example. No love among peers, no love at home . . . how could a child be expected to deal with that?
"There seemed no place to turn," Xeron continued, still barring all emotion from his voice. "If I did well, I was beaten at school. If I did badly, I was beaten at home. Those seemed my only options, and neither of them was good. That was the way it seemed, at least, until I discovered the third option."
Linalia knew this part . . . it was obvious what third option he had discovered. She let him continue, anyway.
"I found the books that everyone said not to read. Said the words they said not to say. I went to a graveyard . . . I made my first zombie. From that day forward, nobody ever beat on me again."
Linalia was on the verge of tears. This man . . . this supposedly evil man who she had come to hunt . . . this man was not evil at all. He did not hate simply for the sake of hating . . . he had reasons. Although, like anyone else, Linalia hoped she would have made a better choice, if put in the same situation . . . but she could not say for certain that she would have.
She looked over at Xeron. He was still stone-faced. Was he sad? Was he angry? There was no way to tell how any of this was affecting him. She supposed he had spent years suppressing these emotions, and unlocking them now was not going to be a small task. She'd be damned, however, before she gave up without trying.
"How," she asked," do you feel about all this now?"
Xeron finally turned to her, for the first time since that morning. His features were like an ivory wall . . . cold and hard, keeping everything inside. Only his eyes betrayed him. Deep within those amazing blue eyes, Linalia saw his sadness. Perhaps he wasn't even aware of it himself, but she saw it.
Linalia caught herself staring. His soft-looking black hair, his pale, but attractive face . . . none of it would have meant anything to her, if it weren't for his eyes. Because of those eyes, however, she had seen beauty in him . . . and now she could see that beauty in all of his features.
In the end, though, it was Xeron who broke the stare. He collapsed; his strength gone. Linalia caught him, then smiled slightly as she held his face to her, gently, like a mother holding a child. She had broken though his barriers and found her way into his heart . . . of this, she was proud. Now that heart needed healing. She wondered if she was really up to the task. Well, she had come this far. There was no turning back now.
