Dirge for a Necromancer Read Online Free PDF Page A

of it caught upon his teardrop shaped ears. As he approached, Raettonus felt the masked elf’s smirk before he saw it through the gaping mouth of the mask.
    “Where am I?” Raettonus asked him.
    The elf’s smirk widened. “In a dream, Raettonus,” he said, leaning his elbow on the wide, intricately carved arm of the throne. His voice was soft and smooth—a charming, seductive, treacherous voice.
    “Who are you?” Raettonus asked him.
    “A dreamer, of course,” answered the elf with a slow chuckle. He waved Raettonus closer with one hand, beads clicking together with the movement. Cautiously, Raettonus approached until he was standing beside the barely raised platform upon which the throne stood.
    “So, what then, you’re trying to convince me I’m in your dream?” Raettonus asked.
    “My dear boy, I’m not trying to convince you of anything.” The masked man smiled, showing his straight white teeth, and leaned forward. “It’s a lovely night out, isn’t it? It’s always night here, even when the sun is up.”
    Raettonus looked away uneasily, toward the temple’s entrance. “What is this place?” he asked.
    “It’s a graveyard,” answered the elf. His mask was painted in red, green, and blue, but the paint was old, and it was beginning to crack and peel.
    “I’ve never seen a graveyard that looks like this,” answered Raettonus, glaring at the elf out of the corner of his eye. “And I’ve seen a lot of graveyards.”
    “It’s a graveyard for ideas,” the masked man replied, his demeanor still smooth. What Raettonus could see of him through his mask proved him to be a young man, no older than twenty years. “The whole world is.”
    “A graveyard?”
    “A graveyard of ideas, yes,” the elf confirmed with a nod. “Hopes die and fall to the ground, and civilizations are built upon their ashes. We visit dead hopes and ideas only in dreams, Raettonus, my dear child. This is their graveyard.”
    Raettonus shifted uncomfortably. “You’re not making a whole lot of sense,” he said, taking a seat beside the throne.
    The masked man beamed down at him, his eyes glowing like to the eyes of a cat in moonlight. “Oh, dear, sweet Raettonus,” he said. “If I wanted, I could easily have power over you. I would never use it, though… You do my work without my intervention.”
    “What on Earth are you going on about?” he asked the elf, cocking one eyebrow.
    The masked man sighed and leaned back in his throne. “Oh, nothing,” he said. “Pay me no mind; it’s just the jabbering of a tired old soul. You know how tiring it is not to die, don’t you? Why, it feels like the days just get longer and longer until all your life has only been one single, endless day.”
    “That I can agree with,” Raettonus said. He focused on a crack in the floor tile under his foot. “I used to know where everything ended. Death—for everyone it ends in death. But, if that stops being the case, then what? Life can’t just go on and on forever…”
    “It doesn’t,” the elf said. “Everything dies, Raettonus. It’s why life is so dull; we know the ending, so everything between is just a forgone conclusion. I’ll die some day, you’ll die some day, Brecan will die some day. When you die, I’ll make sure that you’re buried beside Slade the Black and Red.”
    Raettonus looked up at him sharply. “What do you know about Master Slade?”
    The masked man slid from his throne and knelt beside Raettonus, placing one hand on his jaw. He leaned in close. “Only what you tell me,” he said, kissing Raettonus’ cheek softly. He slipped something hard and cold into Raettonus’ hand. For the first time, Raettonus got a good look at his eyes, behind the mask. They were sad eyes, full of regret. Like Slade, his smile was only skin deep.
    “Who are you?” Raettonus asked again.
    “Only a dreamer,” the man in the mask responded, and Raettonus awoke.
    For a long while, he stared up into the darkness as Brecan