V - Salvation Lies Only In the Damned

The necromancer's tower seemed high enough to scrape the clouds. Surely nothing built by the hands of man was meant to intrude into the heavens so. It was downright . . . cocky.

As Silmeria alighted on the roof, it occurred to her that she had no idea what to expect. It had never been her assigned duty to hunt down and slay practitioners of magic abhorrent to the gods, so she had had few dealings with their ilk during her service to the Aesir. Hrist had dealt with most of them long ago, and few since had dared to revive their foul arts. There were always those foolish enough to attempt to harness the forgotten powers of ancient masters. But most learned to keep their heads down or lose them. They were creatures confined to underground catacombs, defiling bodies laid to rest in hallowed ground, or in ancient ruins where the potent magicks of old still remained in effect. Their practice was forbidden in any land that respected the edicts of the gods. Had Midgard changed so much that the kings of men had grown desperate enough to find a use for their foul potions?

But she had no right to judge, if that was the case. It was desperation that brought her here now.

Silmeria reached up to stroke the feather in her helm, as if the gesture could somehow bring her a measure of comfort and reassurance. The necromancer Lezard Valeth had saved Lenneth's soul after Hrist had slain her. He had given her a new body. And now he was her only hope to revive Hrist.

She was keenly aware of how pathetic it was, seeking the aid of a human sorcerer who may or may not be inclined to attempt to destroy her on sight. How low had she truly fallen, that she would trust necromancy over the new gods of Asgard?

At least Lenneth would be in no position to accuse her of misdeeds. Her own had been far worse.

This necromancer had had a hand in all of her treachery. If anyone could answer for her, it was he. She wondered what foul pact Lenneth had made with him, that he would retrieve her soul and invest it in a new body of his own creation. He was not one of Lenneth's Einherjar himself, although he had sided with them in their mutiny against Hrist. Was he was merely a pawn of hers, or a true ally? Either possibility would have been unimaginable long ago.

But Lenneth was no longer the duty-bound servant of the gods she had once been.

Perhaps she had planned all along to seize Odin's throne. Perhaps she had simply gone mad. Silmeria could only speculate about Lenneth's motives. The only thing Silmeria knew for certain was that her sister goddess had defied her role as a Valkyrie. It was possible that Lenneth wanted both her and Hrist dead along with the rest of the gods. Although Lenneth had not directly caused Hrist's death, it was her chosen Einherjar who had turned against a loyal servant of the Aesir. Those same Einherjar would now be by her side as she sat on the throne of the All-Father.

She couldn't go back to Valhalla. Not yet. She would be at the mercy of Lenneth and her minions, and she had never known Lenneth to be a merciful goddess. If it was her fate to make her last stand in Valhalla, she wanted Hrist to be by her side.

Assuming Hrist wouldn't kill her for this first. She would never have approved of this, seeking the promise of forbidden arts. But this was the only hope she had. Even if the warmest reaction she could expect was that familiar angry scowl and a long lecture about consorting with those infernal diabolists. Hrist would tell her to purge those ungodly thoughts from her mind or else. And if she didn't heed her, she would kill her. Hrist's warnings were not to be taken lightly. But Hrist could kill her if she wanted to. Hrist had died for her. If she could succeed in bringing her back into a new body, it was a sacrifice she was prepared to make.

Even if it meant making a pact with a necromancer. She could only hope that her mind would not be corrupted by dealing with him, as Lenneth's had. Silmeria hoped she would find what she needed here. The quicker this unpleasant business over with, the better. But yet she hesitated.

She stood for a while on the roof, almost fearing to affirm the rumors she'd heard. The tower practically glowed with the residual aura of powerful magic, but he might have abandoned it. There were strange stains splattered across the stone. Was it blood? Why did being here give her such chills?

She gazed down at the landscape. It seemed so different than her view from Brahms's castle. She'd had every detail of the land memorized. To see the world again, she couldn't get enough of it. It was a pity that she couldn't see the dawn. The sky was stormy gray, and still dark in the early hours. Thunder crashed all around her and lighting threw her shadow across the stones of the roof. She stood at the very edge of the roof and removed her helmet, tipping her head back to let the rain wash over her face.

It was a promising storm. Thor would have been proud.

Silmeria settled herself on the roof's edge, enjoying the simple pleasure of rainfall on her skin as she swung her legs idly. No, there was no great hurry. He would be here or he wouldn't. That was up to the Norns.

But she grew more uncomfortable by the minute. Such dark energy radiated from this place. She gathered her determination. If she feared to seek out the darkness at its source, she truly was as much of a weak coward as Hrist had always said. She would prove herself a fool for Hrist's sake, but she could not bear to prove herself a coward. This was an insane plan, but these were mad times.

Silmeria rose to her feet and replaced her helmet on her head. She turned towards the door leading into the tower, and started when she saw that she wasn't alone. She took an unconscious step back, which nearly sent her toppling off the edge. As she teetered, trying to regain her balance on the wet stone, her hands went for her sword. "Show yourself! . . . I mean, don't come any closer! . . . Damn it!"

So much for instilling the fear of gods in him. Still she tried to regain a semblance of composure; much good may it do now. She threw her haughtiest glare at the mysterious young man, who simply stood with his arms crossed nonchalantly. His ragged cape flagged in the wind behind him. At least she still remembered what Hrist had told her about dealing with his ilk. She doubted that at this point she'd get very far by threatening to cut off his tongue and hands, but she knew to be ready to strike as soon as he looked like he was beginning to cast a spell.

She waited for him to try casting a spell, she waited for him to summon some foul aberration borne of his diablerie, she waited for him point at her and laugh. But the man just stood and stared at her from behind a pair of shining spectacles with an expression that unnerved her like few things ever had.

"Who are you?!" she finally shouted, the taut silence unbearable. "I come seeking the necromancer, Lezard Valeth."

He smiled at that, and stepped closer to her. Silmeria saw that he was quite a young man. "I've heard of him. What's your business? Surely one of your stature could find more honorable associates."

She turned her eyes away from him. "I only wish that were an option. But no other can do what I would request of him."

"This certainly sounds intriguing," he said smugly. "Have the gods truly fallen so low that they seek the aid of a necromancer?"

"I've no time to waste speaking with you. Take me to him already or stand aside and let me pass," Silmeria snapped.

"What makes you think Lezard will honor your request?" he asked, still smiling that damnable smile.

"He'd be a fool to deny me. I am a goddess, you know," she replied, trying not to let her irritation show.

"He's killed one more powerful than you."

This time, Silmeria turned back to meet his gaze. "I know. And he's the only one able to bring her back."

He tilted his head, looking as if he was about to laugh. Then he offered her his arm. "Shall we go, lady?"

She knew to stay on guard. This man could be a magician as well. She kept one hand on the hilt of her sword even as she let him take her hand to guide her.

The interior of the tower was dark and bare. The smell of death and ash was everywhere. She couldn't imagine how anyone could live here. Compared to Brahms's castle it was quite plain. How could a living man possibly live in an abode more crypt-like than a vampire king? If he could still be called alive. He had sacrificed his own mortal body and the philosopher's stone in order to take his fate out of the hands of the gods.

Silmeria began to wonder if something was amiss when he led her into a tiny room and a metal grate sealed the doorway. She started when the floor moved under her feet, nearly falling into him. She grimaced, aware of just how clumsy she must seem. At least it was better to look foolish in front of a mere servant rather than in front of the necromancer himself. "Rooms that move. How odd," she said with a slight laugh.

Her guide seemed to bristle at that. "Oh he could teleport anywhere in the castle he wished to, for certain. But he wasn't always so powerful, you know." He stepped uncomfortably close to her. "Are you sure you can't tell me what you want of him?"

"That's between me and the necromancer. It's of no concern to you."

"A private matter, eh?" He smirked. "Just how private, I wonder. Perhaps you've come to seduce him."

She turned away as soon as she felt the blood rise in her cheeks. " That . . . that is preposterous . . . and absolutely indecent! How dare you say such a thing!"

"So a goddess can blush like a maid. How quaint. You needn't be so self-conscious. I'm sure he'd find you beautiful enough, if you were so inclined. On the other hand, he is in love with another, so it's probably best that you don't get your hopes up."

"Get my . . . what?" she stammered, infuriated. "You must be on familiar terms with him to speak of him so."

"Indeed."

"I've heard that he commands the greatest of ancient magicks. His necromancy is equally effective on both gods and men. Do you know if this is true?"

"Without a doubt. Is there anything else you'd like to know?"

". . . Did he really aid the valkyrie Lenneth?"

"More than she ever knew. Everything he did, he did for her sake. His devotion to her is unquestionable. Everything she is, she owes to him. It's just a pity that he was never properly rewarded for his services."

Silmeria fell forward slightly when the elevator jerked to a halt. She followed her guide down a long hall inscribed with runes and sigils on every surface of the walls. "How much longer is it before we get to . . . where are we going?"

"To the laboratory.  Where else would you expect to find a necromancer? He stays down there for weeks at a time, working on new ways to harness his powers. He's quite mad, you know."

She wondered what she would find in a necromancer's laboratory. She entertained fantasies of demonic beast howling in cages, devouring the misshapen bodies of the failed experiments, half-formed larval monsters floating in liquid-filled glass containers, demonic runes and sigils like those she'd seen scribed on every inch of the walls. She wondered what unholy rite she would be interrupting.  She didn't dare ask what the sorcerer's current project might be.

It seemed darker now in the lower halls. There were no windows to let in sun. She shouldn't have come so far. If anything happened to her now, she doubted that she'd even remember her way back. This place was a maze. He could be leading her into a trap. The sorcerer would have plenty of time to prepare. She didn't know if she was ready for another fight. But the die was cast, whatever the outcome might be.

She took a deep breath when her guide told her they'd arrived at the laboratory.

"He'll see you now," he said as he held the door open for her. She stepped in slowly. Broken glass crunched under her feet as she stepped into the room. There was much less unnatural activity than she'd expected. Her hopes sank when she saw the condition of the laboratory. It looked in a terrible state of disrepair. Perhaps he wouldn't even be able to help her with the ritual, even if he was inclined to do so. And if he couldn't, she was most certainly being led into a trap.

Across the room she saw him, the man for whose aid she was willing to ignore his sins and her own.  She was determined not to botch her entrance this time. She strode towards the necromancer with strong steps, carrying her last shreds of dignity around her like a second suit of armor. She stopped before him and stood tall, looking him in the eyes. He was an old man, just as she'd expected. His hair was white and his eyes were mad. They were the eyes of one who'd seen as much of life as he'd cared to and now searched in death for his pleasure. He stood with the aid of a cane. He held a pipe in one hand, its smoke curling towards the ceiling.

"Lezard Valeth, I come to you seeking your aid. Of men and gods, only you have the ability to bring souls back into body. I seek the resurrection of the valkyrie Hrist, who you yourself helped to slay."

Her companion's giggling distracted her. The old man gave her a surprised look and then turned a baleful glare at her companion. This drew her gaze to him as well. "What's the meaning of this? Do you mock me?" she cried.

The old sorcerer spoke in a gruff voice. "Yes, Lezard, what in the nine worlds is going on here?"

Silmeria looked at the old man and then at the young one. She blinked. "You're not Lezard Valeth? You're him?!"

Lezard somehow found words in the midst of his giddiness. "I'm terribly sorry Gandar, but I wanted to ascertain if she was really here to kill me."

The elder man did not seem entertained by the joke.

Neither was Silmeria. "How dare you make a fool of me?"

"You hardly need my help to look like a fool, my dear valkyrie," he said.

"For a moment I thought that Lenneth had come for me. That's a cruel joke to play on an old man, boy. If I was still alive I my heart might have failed." Gandar drew a long puff from his pipe, still glaring at the giggling Lezard, who still seemed quite amused with himself.

Silmeria turned back to the elder sorcerer. He seemed the more sane of the two. "So he's the necromancer Lezard Valeth?" she said, gesturing.

"I know, it's disappointing, isn't it?" he replied.

"Age has really dulled your sense of humor, old man," said Lezard.

"Old? Hmph. You young upstarts don't know the meaning of sorcery anymore. Why, when I was your age we treated the masters with the respect they deserved."

"Yes,yes. And you had to walk fifteen miles uphill both ways to find bodies to use in your experiments. Spare me your tired diatribe."

Silmeria had to shout over their bickering. "If you're Lezard Valeth, than who is this man? Is he your servant?"

"Servant? Servant?!" Gandar shouted, pounding his cane into the floor for emphasis. "You haven't heard of the name Gandar?"

"I . . . haven't been out much," said Silmeria, cowed.

"I was the most powerful sorcerer who ever lived!"

Lezard pointedly cleared his throat.

Gondar continued nonplussed. "I spent my life working for the Villnore military. Armies scattered at the very rumor that I was there to oppose them! In death, I couldn't get away from war. But my final battle with Lenneth was a suitable one to end my military career. I made it through Ragnarock without a single loss.  Now I'm searching for ways to spend a peaceful retirement.  I want nothing more to do with the Aesir, and if I never see another valkyrie, it'll be too soon."

"Betrayer! Who do you think you are?" How could Lenneth have chosen servants who defied the gods in such ways? Was it for his prowess on the battlefield or because of his command of dark magicks? Even so, how could he have deserted her?

He looked at her coldly. "A god."

This was true, of course.

"You'd do well to show a bit more respect to one of the All-Mother's chosen," he continued harshly.

"I am one of the three goddesses of fate!" Silmeria protested.

Lezard spoke. "Were. What claim do you have over the souls of men any more?"

Silmeria turned on him. "You still owe me an answer! I've had enough of this. Will you perform the ritual or not? Or can you?"

Lezard paused thoughtfully, for much longer than Silmeria was comfortable with. "Oh certainly it could be done with the proper equipment. It would take time, of course, to gather the necessary components. And I would have to get a specimen to craft the vessel from. And the ritual may not even be successful if I tried to recreate it. Don't misunderstand, my powers have expanded since I tried it the first time, but the soul in question may have undergone too much degradation to be salvageable. And I truly believe that my lady valkyrie wanted to be saved."

"So you'll try?" she said, incredulous.

"I have no great affection for the dark valkyrie. What makes you think I'd want to see her reborn? And what can you possibly do to reward me for my service?"

"So you won't? I'm sorry I've wasted our time."

"I didn't refuse did I? I do miss my homunculi so. It's quite dreary around the place without them." Lezard smiled.