Chapter Five: Necromancy

The third year of his academic career began a few months before his sixteenth birthday. As usual he breezed through the previous year's tests and retained the coveted position as top of his class. So it was when he entered the school for his third year, Lezard was eager for a challenge. There was no question he learned a lot from the course material offered, but he felt there was still more he could handle. He eagerly scanned through all of the classes offered while he waited for his schedule.

"There you are, Mr. Valeth," said the lady at the desk, sliding over the schedule. He paid her no attention; his eyes were focused on one of the offered classes.

"What is this one: Necromantic Theory?"

"Oh, it's a class dealing with the theories of necromancy… you know, sorcery calling upon demons and the dead." An eager gleam came to Lezard's eye. He had no idea such a class was available, or he would've taken it sooner. It was exactly what he needed to complete his goal.

"What must I do to sign up for this class?"

"Ah… well… you'd first have to age two years. Classes on necromancy are restricted to students age eighteen and older."

"What!" Lezard was usually not one to get excited, but this was an injustice he could not stand for. "You're joking! That is discrimination! Why on earth would they impose such a restriction?"

"I believe it was the combined decision of the headmaster and the instructor," the lady told him calmly. "Apparently they felt that such magic was far too advanced for younger students, or something like that." She shrugged her shoulders, tapping his schedule card. "Anyway, there's your schedule. Have a good semester."

"Right," he snorted, snatching the card and stalking out. So, the headmaster was the one who decided this. He would not let such foolish rules stand in his way, and he was in no mood to wait any longer to know the truth. Lezard headed for the headmaster's room to plead his case. The school allowed him to come when their rules spoke against it; surely the rules would be bent for him a second time.

Unfortunately, a teacher was already waiting outside to see the headmaster. "Well, the year hasn't even started and already you've been sent to the headmaster?"

"No, sir. I wish to talk to her about a certain class I wish to take," Lezard replied.

"Oh, really? You want more work than you're being given? That's very industrious of you," said the teacher with a laugh. "I'm glad to know some students your age take interest in their work. Even some of my students don't work as hard as they should."

"What do you teach, sir… if you don't mind me asking?" Lezard wondered.

"Necromantic Theory." Lezard couldn't hold back a smirk. It seemed as if the gods were working for him today.

"Sir…" Lezard had to choose his words wisely if he was to get what he wanted. "I understand that your class is restricted to students under eighteen, but I am very interested in the subject. Do you suppose it would be possible for me to sit in on just one of your classes? I promise you I will not ask you any questions or take notes." He was sure that would convince the teacher.

"You must be very desperate for knowledge. I admire that. I suppose… I will allow it, just one time, but don't take any time out of your real schedule. And I'll be keeping an eye on you to be sure you don't take notes. Sound like a deal?"

"Yes, of course! Thank you very much, sir!" He was told the room number, and he rushed off before the teacher could change his mind. Once he was safely away, Lezard burst out laughing. Some people were so gullible! Just because he said he wouldn't take notes during the class didn't mean he wouldn't write everything down later. This year would be a promising one after all.

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No one noticed the fifteen-year-old sitting among them. Lezard snuck into the crowd while they were all finding their seats and chose a dark corner in the back so he wouldn't be noticed. He had plenty of experience growing up in making himself unnoticeable. He sat quietly but intently, focusing on what the teacher was saying so he could copy it all down later. Lezard had already attended the Necromantic Theory class several times; naturally, he made sure the teacher wasn't aware of it.

This lesson was especially important for him, because they were finally learning how to call forth demons. He thought it would be a good start on his path to discovering the truth. Surely demons would know how his mother died. Even if they knew nothing about it, his thirst for knowledge would rive him into calling them. Once the class let out he hurried to a quiet place to write everything down while it was fresh in his mind.

"I will do it tonight," he decided. "The sooner, the better. All I need is a place to perform the summoning." He would need a fairly large area, and the assurance that no one would walk in on him. This would have to be carefully planned if it had any hope of succeeding.

That evening he waited until his roommate dropped off to sleep before climbing out of bed. He knew very well he was breaking a rule being out of his room after hours, but he was certain he wouldn't get caught. He carried all of the necessary tools in a bag held close to his body so the contents wouldn't rattle. His familiar was keeping watch for the headmaster's bird. Everything was set, and all that was left to do now was to put theory into practice.

He came to his chosen area and set down the bag, unloading it quietly. According to his notes, the first step was to draw a circle that would act as a gate between Nifleheim and Midgard. Lezard kept one eye on his instructions as he completed that first task, his ear straining to hear any noise. When that was finished he stood back and lifted his hands palm forward. The goal now was to focus his magical energy within the circle and guide the demon into Midgard.

"Demon from another world, I summon you here by all the power within me. Answer my call and come now before me!" He knew it was working the moment the words fell from his lips. The area within the circle began to glow a dull red color, and he thought he could hear the cries of demons struggling to find their way to the gate. Wild with excitement, Lezard focused even stronger. "The gate is open for you! Come before me, and give me what I seek!"

The light grew brighter until it seemed to fill the whole room. He could hear the demons clearly now, howling and clawing their way upward. Lezard winced at the noise and fought to keep his concentration. They were screaming so loudly now he was certain someone would hear. His energy was leaving him and the screams would not relent. The light seemed to be fading again and he hadn't the strength to care. His knees gave way, and then there was darkness.

His eyes opened to a blurry world. He had a pounding headache and the echoes of the demon screams still resonated in his ears. Groaning, he lifted himself up to a sitting position to look for his glasses. He found them on a table nearby and slipped them on, pushing them up the bridge of his nose with his forefinger. It appeared that he was in the infirmary, though how he got there was a complete mystery.

"Ah, you're finally awake." He turned and watched the school doctor approach his bed. The doctor reached out and placed a hand on Lezard's forehead. "You're feeling much better as well."

"What happened?" Lezard wondered, rubbing his aching head.

"You were found early this morning, lying unconscious in the courtyard. You were running a fever so you were brought here." The doctor gave him a penetrating stare. "What were you doing out there?"

"I…" Memories of last night rushed back on him. The light, the screaming, his body weakening and crumbling to the ground… "I don't remember," he lied.

"Hm…" The doctor frowned, but didn't press for more. "The important thing is that you're all right, and it doesn't look like you sustained any injuries. If you're feeling up to it, you may go on to class." Lezard glanced over to a nearby clock. The gods were on his side: he hadn't missed anything important.

"Yes, I will do that. Thank you." He wasn't going to let anything stop him from going on. He left the infirmary, shaking his head a little trying to rid himself of the noises he could still hear. Demonic voices whispering, crying out as if from a great distance. He rubbed his head, sighing a little.

He felt too tired to go back tonight. Tomorrow, he promised, he would finish what he started.