Chapter Thirteen: Night Watch
They traveled slowly up the river. The wind favored them and they moved without problem. Kendra had soon gotten over her seasickness and had looked over every part of the ship. Aragorn had gone with her and had told her what he could about the ship. By the time they had made it back up to the deck, she had to admit that she was impressed. Not that she would remember everything, but it was still impressive.
Night fell and Legolas still remained up top. Gimli had settled down and was now snoring loudly. The King of the Army of the Dead was standing like a silent sentinel in the front of the ship. So, that left her with the middle of the ship. She didn't want to make herself deaf with Gimli's snores and she really didn't like the feeling of standing in ice water every time she was near the ghost. Not that she would get her wish.
The ice water feeling let her know that he was near before she turned. "You are not of this world."
Kendra turned to face him. "No, I'm not. How could you tell?"
He laughed, his harsh grating laugh, "Your clothes, your manner, and your powers."
"What do you mean?" she asked, suspicious.
"Your powers have a different feel to them. There is more to them. Not even the powers of the elves feel like this. You are a wizard, are you not?"
"I am called a mage in my lands."
"Mage?" he rolled the word out of his mouth. "Basically, a wizard."
Kendra shrugged her shoulders. She tried to move, tried to get rid of the ice water that was freezing her blood.
"You could hear my men, couldn't you?" he suddenly asked.
Kendra stopped, unable to believe that he had picked that up. She turned to face him, surprise obvious on her face.
"I thought so. You are powerful."
"What is so special about me hearing the thoughts of the dead?" Kendra asked, afraid of the answer.
"It isn't the thoughts of the dead. It is the thoughts of the heart. My men wish with all their hearts to be free of this cursed life. You can hear that, whether you wish to or not."
"It almost makes me seem like a controller of the dead," she whispered.
"You are special. The dead speak to you, as well as nature."
"How do you know this?" she asked, watching him.
All he did was laugh before floating away. Kendra watched him go before she turned back to watch the shore slowly move past her. She had much to think about now, courtesy of a certain dead king. What she did know, was that the only people who could hear the thoughts of the dead were necromancers and those who were near death themselves. And she wasn't dieing. Or was she?