Necromancer's Curse

  Books by

  D. M. ALMOND

  Chronicles of Acadia

  Book One: Secrets of the Elders

  Book Two: Land of the Giants

  Book Three: Necromancer’s Curse

  Book Four: Kingdom’s Fall – coming Winter 2016

  Other Works

  A Dark Rising – coming Fall 2015

  Trollin’

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and completely a byproduct of the reader’s overactive imagination. Or maybe it is all real after all? No, it’s not, relax. Do not draw comparisons between this world and your own, lest you lose yourself in dreams of fantasy.

  Chronicles of Acadia, Book 3: Necromancer’s Curse

  © D. M. Almond; 2015

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, virtual reality, painting with meaning, emoticons, interpretive dance or otherwise, without express written permission from the author.

  Cover illustration by Shen Fei

  Edited by Jessica Barnes

  To my father, for introducing a five year old to the world of fantasy, even though you skipped over Shelob’s lair because you didn’t want me to be scared.

  Prologue

  The Necromancer rolled in his tomb, whispered pleas and the faint sound of broken fingernails scraping across stone disturbing his eternal slumber for the briefest of moments. As he slipped back into that endless well of dreams, he heard the forgotten echoes from a time of happiness, of belonging, and above all else of feeling.

  Children were laughing outside in the courtyard in front of the temple while Hublin lit candles in prayer to Ohm. The jovial gnome cleric could not help but smile as he busied himself with preparations to commune with his god. Many leagues had been crossed to bring him here to the shrine of the Amber Circle. It was his eighteenth stop, the last on the long pilgrimage to become Master Cleric. And at each and every shrine he had found a town or village similar to this one.

  Rovinal was as blessed a place as any the gnome could hope for, with hearty folk who spent their days toiling in the mines and nights making merriment around bonfires. From the moment Hublin arrived, the townsfolk had greeted him with smiles and laughter. They loved monks of the Blessed Hand, having had many come on the pilgrimage over the years, and fell right to work making him at home. Hublin did not believe he deserved such a generous welcoming. After all, he was but a humble disciple to his Lord’s teaching, walking in the path of Ohm’s Acadian son Helbu.

  “We have the cottage all made up and ready for you,” the plump Mrs. Perks said, leading Hublin to a cozy cottage nestled between two pink-capped mushrooms the size of benches.

  “There’s no need to go through such trouble,” Hublin said. “I don’t want to put anyone out.”

  Mrs. Perks’ daughter Ginnie, a wee lass with red pigtails and a face full of freckles, snatched his pack from his hands, fast as a field mouse. “Don’t argue with Mommy,” she laughed, darting past her mother into the cottage.

  Mrs. Perks put her hands on her hips and shot Hublin a look that said it was not up for debate. “This old place has no better use than to wait for you priests to come a-visiting.”

  Ginnie slapped her palms against the glass on the other side of the round window facing them and giggled with crossed eyes.

  “Well, I can’t argue with that kind of logic.” Hublin grinned, shaking his head.

  Within minutes of accepting the offered lodgings, more townsfolk came by with food for his round belly, drink for his spirits, and an invitation to a feast in his honor. The people of Rovinal, like many a goodly gnome, loved an excuse to celebrate, and they had no shortage of excuses to throw around.

  Accepting a place to rest his head was one thing. However, Hublin saw he would have to be clear about the rest. He would be grateful indeed for such charity, but only after he completed his meditation in Ohm’s temple.

  Hublin sat alone in the temple, where he had been locked away for almost two weeks, seeking spiritual guidance with only the statue of Ohm to keep him company. Candles burned down to waxy nubs around him, and incense filled the air with scents of spices and mint, cleansing the chi so that he might hear Ohm’s wisdom.

  The mossy stone statue of Ohm was expertly smoothed and shaped, depicting a fat-bellied gnome dancing on one foot and laughing. He poured a jug of wine in his open mouth with one hand and brandished a holy implement with the other, keeping the evil spirits at bay. He was a benevolent god, deeply caring and forever filled with optimism over what his gnome children could achieve. Hublin had admired him for as long as he could remember and often lamented that his own belly was only half as large and his red beard not nearly as thick.

  He meditated on the joy of being for a few more hours until finally the vision came to him. Some said the visions were caused by a combination of fasting and drinking too many spirits, but any self-respecting monk would scoff at that notion. Surely if naysayers experienced these moments of enlightenment, they too would be converted to devout followers in the blink of an eye.

  Hublin’s face flooded with warmth, as if Themis, the daystar that kissed the surface of Acadia, had descended into the bowels of the planet to light the lands of Vanidriell. Hublin felt the blessed light cover him and inhaled the scent of fresh rain and blossoming flowers. He smiled and opened his eyes. Before him was a wide meadow of blue grass waving in a summer breeze. Butterflies fluttered past, and rainbow-colored snails nestled among a blanket of flowers at the meadow’s center. From the meadow came the sound of whistling, like sweet honey on the wind.

  Barefoot, Hublin moved toward the music, letting the blades of grass tickle his toes and fingertips and marveling at the azure blue sky above. When he arrived at the center of the meadow, he found a hooded gnome sitting on a bed of flowers, lazily smoking a pipe.

  “My Lord, I have come for your wisdom,” Hublin said, humbly bowing before his god.

  “Aye, ye’ve traveled the nine roads to Rovinal in search of me, of that much I’m certain ye be correct, Hublin Hofflton,” the gnome said, blowing out a long puff of smoke shaped like a giant dancing turtle. “But to speak of wisdom coming from me lips, well, I know nothing of any such thing, my child.”

  Hublin could not help but smirk at Ohm’s cleverness. He who was master engineer to the Aesir, crafting the mightiest of weapons for One Eye himself, speaking of having no wisdom was likely the funniest thing the cleric had heard in his entire lifetime.

  “Why don’t ye wipe that foolish grin from above yer bald chin and come join Ohm for a puff, boy?”

  Hublin felt his chin, wondering what his Lord meant. Sure enough, his mat of red beard was still there.

  “If ye can call that thing ye been growing a beard proper, than I guess ye do need my advice after all,” Ohm grunted, responding to Hublin’s thoughts as plainly as if they had been spoken aloud. Ohm waved for the hesitant cleric to join him, patting the bed of flowers.

  Hublin moved through the delicate blooms with care, sad that his swollen feet would trample their beautiful petals. He was both amazed and delighted to find that each place he stepped away from sprang back to being, undamaged and unblemished.

  As he sat beside Ohm, he felt waves of happiness emanating from the god, as though an intangible cloud of mirth encircled the large bellied gnome’s form. It tickled Hublin’s spirit and made him giggle. Ohm handed him a lit pipe, pushing it right up to his face so he could not object.

  “You are too kind, my Lord,” Hublin thanked him, inhaling deeply of the weed. It tasted like orange peels and cloves
and tickled his tongue. Hublin took a deep drag and blew out four wide concentric rings. Each puffy halo worked within the other, like they were playing a game of inside-out leap frog.

  Ohm’s eyes widened at the impressive display. “Ach, surely ye be the one needing to share what wisdom ye’ve done gained ‘round the hearth, my son.”

  Hublin smiled proudly and bowed his head. “They’re no dancing turtles,” he pointed out.

  Ohm puckered his lips contentedly and popped his own pipe back in. “That they ain’t. So, lad, do ye know why ye’ve come to visit old Ohm?”

  Hublin frowned and scratched his forehead. “I’m on the sacred pilgrimage, my lord,” he said as if it were all the explanation necessary.

  Ohm shrugged as if it meant nothing to him.

  “As your own son traveled on his journey to seek your blessing?”

  There was still no response from the gnome god, who leaned back and puffed out a smoky fox that chased a real butterfly flittering past. Hublin was so lost in the mystical display that he coughed on his own pipe, tendrils of smoke burning his nose as they came out of each nostril.

  Ohm pointed at him and rumbled with laughter that came up from his heavy belly. It took him a few minutes to catch his breath, and he sighed.

  “Lord, I do not understand,” Hublin said. “I’ve traveled many leagues on the pilgrimage, stopping at each of the seven temples on my way so that I might be in your presence.”

  Ohm pulled the pipe away from his face and licked his lips. “Yes, but do ye know why ye’ve embarked upon this pilgrimage? Why travel such a distance just to speak with me?”

  Hublin watched as the purple-speckled butterfly escaped the fox and landed on Ohm’s big toe. He mouthed the word why, confused as to what response his god was looking for.

  “There can only be one answer, me boy,” Ohm said. He reached over and tapped a stubby forefinger on the cleric’s chest. “The one in here is what I seek.”

  Hublin thought long and hard on this, chewing away at the idea and mulling it over like molasses in his mind. He stroked his short red beard and scratched his forehead in turn, giving Ohm’s inquiry much consideration. Finally he wiggled his toes and spoke again. “I believe I understand your question now. You would like to know why I decided to undertake the pilgrimage in the first place?”

  The hooded gnome slapped his own face and groaned. “Ach, ye’d think I’m speakin’ another language here. ‘Course that’s what I meant, boy. It’s what I asked, isn’t it?”

  “Ever twisting are the words of the gods,” Hublin quoted, knowing in his heart that his Lord’s display was more for show than of actual annoyance. “I embarked upon the pilgrimage that I might seek knowledge, my Lord.”

  “Finally. And what is it ye think ye’ve earned the right to know, child? What can there be that ye haven’t already learned with yer own two eyes and ears in the land of gnomes?”

  “Well, Lord,” Hublin began slowly, “I seek the knowledge to smite the wicked from our midst, to expunge the shadow that is growing over our lands.”

  Ohm bit down on his pipe, cracking the wood in half and crumbling the bowl in his palm. All at once the cleric felt an emptiness surround his god, one devoid of laughter. Where Ohm had been, now there was a feeling of immensity on a scale which Hublin could not comprehend. When Ohm spoke again, his voice came out hard, coursing with ire. “So ye’ve traveled all this distance only to seek power.” It was an accusation, followed by a look of contempt and disappointment.

  Hublin was cowed in the face of his Lord’s might, yet he pushed on. “Not power, my Lord, understanding. I need your help to gain enough strength to shelter our people from the shadow. I can feel it growing around me. Lately there are tales of evil deeds happening far too often in Vanidriell. How can I, insignificant and humble follower of Ohm, rise up and stop these forces from penetrating our world?”

  Ohm’s form simmered down, falling back in on itself to the size and shape of a gnome once more. He took a couple short drags from his pipe, which was whole again, and grumbled, “Some might say ye see what ye want to in this world.”

  “That may be, my Lord, but one only has control over his path once true understanding is upon him,” Hublin said, quoting the Book of the Dells.

  “Hmm…truer words there never have been. Perhaps ye’d be wise enough to heed them?”

  “And what of strength, my Lord? How do I gain that?” Hublin asked.

  Ohm rose up on his knees and leaned over to Hublin, placing the flat of his palm on the cleric’s chest. Hublin was suddenly filled with an immense tranquility of being. “All the strength ye need is in here, my son. Be true to this, and ye’ll never stray from the path.”

  Hublin dared to clasp his god’s hand, cupping his shaking fingers over Ohm’s. “Do you mean it, my Lord?”

  Ohm nodded solemnly and pulled gently away.

  “B-but how can you know it’s in me? H-how can I be the vessel?”

  Ohm stood and looked to the west, bending his ear as horns blared in the distance. He turned to look down at Hublin and pulled back his hood. The cleric gasped and shrank back to see his own smiling face on his god.

  “I have faith as ye have faith. We are one, and we are many. Believe in the light, my child, for it offers truth and purity.”

  Hublin hung on every word, which sounded like they were coming down from the edges of heaven, sung on the tips of the butterflies’ wings that descended upon Ohm, covering the god’s body from head to toe. The cleric reached out tentatively to touch the shroud of colors, and it burst apart, a symphony of fragile wings, leaving behind a single radiating note played in the wind.

  When Hublin opened his eyes in the small temple room, they were wet with tears of joy. He did not know when he had returned to this realm or how long he had been gone, or even if he had ever left in the first place. Outside he could still hear the children playing.

  Hublin rose and wiped away the tears then threw the temple doors wide. He had heard his god’s wisdom and understood what must happen next.

  Little Ginnie spied Hublin coming out of the temple and squealed. She led the excited children as they dashed around the courtyard to fetch the grown-ups. Soon a group of villagers surrounded Hublin, eager to receive a word of blessing from the cleric.

  “You have the face of one who has seen a vision,” village elder Odgar bellowed loud enough for all to hear. “Come now, priest, share your divinity with us. What did Ohm say?”

  Hublin smiled proudly. “The Lord believes that I possess strength enough to cast back the darkness. He said that I can gain the power of gods if I believe it can be done.”

  The villagers were in awe at this proclamation. One of the younger women fell to her knees and begged for his blessing, while many folk gathered around to pat him on the back or throw their arms around him in warm hugs. It was a joyful moment for them all.

  Hublin helped the woman to rise, explaining that he was only a humble disciple of Ohm, no different than any other come before him, just one who had been blessed with the fortune of strength.

  The gnomes let Hublin go long enough to wash himself and change into something proper. When night fell and the glow of the alpen mushrooms dimmed, the festivities began. The whole of the town came out to gather in the village circle and celebrate Hublin’s success.

  They lit a great bonfire and danced around it with merry music played and no end of honeywine poured. Hublin gave in to a call for him to sing “The Ballad of Rosa,” and the villagers hung on his every note. By the way they cheered, he thought that he surely had the voice of an angel that night. It felt like he was on top of the world.

  Ginnie came out to dance with him, and Hublin scooped her up in his arms and spun her tiny body around in a circle. The little girl screamed with glee. Hublin spun her around a couple more times then decided it might be best to take a break. Since the town kept spinning well after he stopped, he judged it was a wise choice. The little girl pulled him over to sit with her m
omma and Hublin happily complied.

  Mrs. Perks was tapping her foot to the gaelic beat while humming along. Her eyes lit up when Ginnie broke free from Hublin and jumped into her arms.

  “She’s some kid,” Hublin said with genuine admiration.

  “Takes after her da.” Mrs. Perks nodded, nuzzling Ginnie under her chin.

  “Da’s gone off to Ohm’s white fields,” Ginnie said matter-of-factly.

  Hublin stopped downing his honeywine and grew sober. He wiped the foam from his beard with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry to hear it.”

  Mrs. Perks bowed her head. “Aw, don’t you be throwing on a sad face. Ritchel has been dead for nigh on year and a half now, taken away in the night by those cobolds. But that was then, and the time for tears is well over now, priest. How can I find room for more when he left me the most precious jewel in all of Vanidriell?” She nuzzled her nose against her daughter’s. Ginnie broke out in giggles.

  Hublin wanted to share her positive perspective, but his heart ached to see two people, both as right as a rainbow, and know that they had their happiness stolen from them. Mrs. Perks was smiling, making the best of a bad situation, but he could see deep down she longed for her husband.

  “I’ll make them pay,” Hublin murmured.

  “Don’t you go chasing cobolds now,” Mrs Perks scolded. “You leave that to the King’s men, those bred for it.”

  “Ohm has put this path before me,” Hublin said, deciding it was so.

  Ginnie shrank back and shuddered. “I don’t like the cobolds. They’re scary.”

  Mrs. Perks shot him a dark glance, and Hublin quickly leaned forward to pat the young girl’s head. “Don’t you worry, Ginnie. I’ll never let those animals lay a finger on you.”

  Ginnie was immediately back to all smiles. “You mean it?”

  “‘Course I do,” Hublin said. “Besides, don’t you know Ohm himself appointed me defender of the light? Now let’s forget about this and dance for a while!”