Eternity
Three years later.
Erithae quickly redid the spell of invisibility on her bells. They were already hidden (and invisible), but it was just an extra precaution. What was a necromancer without her prime tools, anyway? After closing the lid of the basket, Erithae stepped out of the dark alleyway. Good. No one had seen her, and no one suspected anything. People feared necromancers, even if they hadn't committed any crimes against humanity. They had been afraid before, but it had worsened after that whole Destroyer incident. Organized by a necromancer. Erithae, of course, didn't understand how people could dread necromancers, and then worship the Abhorsen. In all technicality, the Abhorsen was a necromancer. What was the difference? Erithae pondered the question as she entered the local tavern.
"Did ya 'eer 'bout wot 'appened down in Belisaere?" said a burly man to the bartender. "It's awfool, it is."
"Yah, I've 'erd a few things, but I'm not quite sure o' the full story. Oy, there's Hupert. I 'spose he kin tell us a thing or two."
Erithae sipped on her cup of mead as she watched a tall soldier sit down next to the burly man. She was interested, to be sure. She hadn't heard anything about a catastrophe in Belisaere. That was the price of traveling around; you were always a little behind on the news.
"Well, Hupert," said the bartender, "Wot can ya tell us about that whole Belisaere thing that's goin' 'round? I've 'erd bits of it, but I ain't believin' it yet."
"Gentleman," said Hupert, sounding starkly different with his refined manner of speech, "Probably most any rumor you've heard is true. It seems like a lie, I know, but as a member of the Palace Guard, I'm very close to these sorts of matters, and I can assure you it is not imaginary by any means. My associate and close friend sent me some Charter photographs the other day. The palace is an absolute wreck, and the main street of the city has been almost entirely destroyed." He sighed. "It's awful."
"Is it true wot they say," the burly man said darkly, "About that necromancer who invaded the city takin' prisoners? And it bein' involved with the Destroyer when 'ee was still around?"
Hupert nodded.
"Yes, Rote, all of that is true. The necromancer is Chlorr of the Mask; at least that's what most sources say. She was closely involved with the unleashing of the Destroyer, but for some reason she was never taken care of properly. A very unwise choice, in my opinion. But as for the prisoners, Charter save them."
"'Oo are they?" asked the bartender, filling up a glass with brandy.
"The Prince, his close friend, and the Abhorsen-in-Waiting." Said Hupert gravely. "All so young, too. Many people believe that Chlorr wants revenge. The Abhorsen-in-Waiting vanquished her master, and the other two helped, after all. There are multiple search parties after them, but they can't find a trace. Not even footprints. It's odd, because Chlorr stormed Belisaere with a giant army of Dead creatures. And Dead leave more than footprints behind."
Erithae was hanging on every word.
"But wot 'bout the real Abhorsen?" asked Rote "I'd bet lots that Chlorrs' no match fer 'er."
"Injured," said Hupert, shaking his head "Terribly injured. The King is devastated. His son and his wife are both in perilous dilemmas, and there isn't much he can do about it. But he's trying. Trying as hard as he can. Though." he paused. "I don't think he's going about it the right way."
"Wot's 'ee doin'?"
"He's.he's looking to hire a necromancer to go after the prisoners."
Rote and the bartender gaped in disbelief.
"A necromancer? Wot's 'ee thinkin'? That could destroy the kingdom!"
"Chlorr can only be defeated by someone who knows how to deal with the seven bells and Death. Besides the Abhorsen, necromancers are the only people who can do that. I don't agree with the King, but I can see where his logic is coming from."
"But necromancers, they con't be trusted!" cried Rote, slamming his mug on the table.
"Easy, man," growled the bartender. He turned to Hupert. "I 'spose it does make sense, but a necromancer.They're dangerous folk. Free Magic. How could 'ee send one after his son?"
"Desperation," said Hupert "There's no one else to turn to. He's willing to risk many things, even his kingdom for those three prisoners. But I think."
Erithae had heard enough. She left the money on the counter and silently exited the tavern. She would go to Belisaere. Quickly retrieving her invisible bells, Erithae set off to buy a horse. That method of transportation was much faster than walking.
Three years later.
Erithae quickly redid the spell of invisibility on her bells. They were already hidden (and invisible), but it was just an extra precaution. What was a necromancer without her prime tools, anyway? After closing the lid of the basket, Erithae stepped out of the dark alleyway. Good. No one had seen her, and no one suspected anything. People feared necromancers, even if they hadn't committed any crimes against humanity. They had been afraid before, but it had worsened after that whole Destroyer incident. Organized by a necromancer. Erithae, of course, didn't understand how people could dread necromancers, and then worship the Abhorsen. In all technicality, the Abhorsen was a necromancer. What was the difference? Erithae pondered the question as she entered the local tavern.
"Did ya 'eer 'bout wot 'appened down in Belisaere?" said a burly man to the bartender. "It's awfool, it is."
"Yah, I've 'erd a few things, but I'm not quite sure o' the full story. Oy, there's Hupert. I 'spose he kin tell us a thing or two."
Erithae sipped on her cup of mead as she watched a tall soldier sit down next to the burly man. She was interested, to be sure. She hadn't heard anything about a catastrophe in Belisaere. That was the price of traveling around; you were always a little behind on the news.
"Well, Hupert," said the bartender, "Wot can ya tell us about that whole Belisaere thing that's goin' 'round? I've 'erd bits of it, but I ain't believin' it yet."
"Gentleman," said Hupert, sounding starkly different with his refined manner of speech, "Probably most any rumor you've heard is true. It seems like a lie, I know, but as a member of the Palace Guard, I'm very close to these sorts of matters, and I can assure you it is not imaginary by any means. My associate and close friend sent me some Charter photographs the other day. The palace is an absolute wreck, and the main street of the city has been almost entirely destroyed." He sighed. "It's awful."
"Is it true wot they say," the burly man said darkly, "About that necromancer who invaded the city takin' prisoners? And it bein' involved with the Destroyer when 'ee was still around?"
Hupert nodded.
"Yes, Rote, all of that is true. The necromancer is Chlorr of the Mask; at least that's what most sources say. She was closely involved with the unleashing of the Destroyer, but for some reason she was never taken care of properly. A very unwise choice, in my opinion. But as for the prisoners, Charter save them."
"'Oo are they?" asked the bartender, filling up a glass with brandy.
"The Prince, his close friend, and the Abhorsen-in-Waiting." Said Hupert gravely. "All so young, too. Many people believe that Chlorr wants revenge. The Abhorsen-in-Waiting vanquished her master, and the other two helped, after all. There are multiple search parties after them, but they can't find a trace. Not even footprints. It's odd, because Chlorr stormed Belisaere with a giant army of Dead creatures. And Dead leave more than footprints behind."
Erithae was hanging on every word.
"But wot 'bout the real Abhorsen?" asked Rote "I'd bet lots that Chlorrs' no match fer 'er."
"Injured," said Hupert, shaking his head "Terribly injured. The King is devastated. His son and his wife are both in perilous dilemmas, and there isn't much he can do about it. But he's trying. Trying as hard as he can. Though." he paused. "I don't think he's going about it the right way."
"Wot's 'ee doin'?"
"He's.he's looking to hire a necromancer to go after the prisoners."
Rote and the bartender gaped in disbelief.
"A necromancer? Wot's 'ee thinkin'? That could destroy the kingdom!"
"Chlorr can only be defeated by someone who knows how to deal with the seven bells and Death. Besides the Abhorsen, necromancers are the only people who can do that. I don't agree with the King, but I can see where his logic is coming from."
"But necromancers, they con't be trusted!" cried Rote, slamming his mug on the table.
"Easy, man," growled the bartender. He turned to Hupert. "I 'spose it does make sense, but a necromancer.They're dangerous folk. Free Magic. How could 'ee send one after his son?"
"Desperation," said Hupert "There's no one else to turn to. He's willing to risk many things, even his kingdom for those three prisoners. But I think."
Erithae had heard enough. She left the money on the counter and silently exited the tavern. She would go to Belisaere. Quickly retrieving her invisible bells, Erithae set off to buy a horse. That method of transportation was much faster than walking.
