The Necromancer and the Old Lady
My tale for cronistaerrante
The idea of the Necromancer has been lurking around in my mind for many years now. I half translated it from a Hungarian version, so it might be a bit Hunglish sometimes :P
The Necromancer hardly ever left his castle. He was busying himself, researching, bustling about for such a long time that even he couldn’t follow the passing of months and years. Sometimes he found himself standing on his chamber’s balcony and admiring the view. He spent more and more time breathing in the cool, dewy air of the forest, getting lost in the sight of the endless sea of pine trees, trying to make out the distant line of hills that cloaked themselves in thick fog, and following the flow of the silvery river that ran swiftly into the arms of the horizon. This went on for many nights, and the Necromancer always returned from his studies to the balcony and took his time to gaze into the distance. But one day, as the darkness was retreating back to its hidden caves under the earth and the Sun brought gentle colors to the sky, the fresh wind of the dawn whispered soft songs into the ears of the Necromancer, and he knew that he must go. He didn’t know where he was heading, but he felt that the world was calling for him. He appointed one of his servants to take on his responsibilities in the castle, he saddled his horse and rode off into the open world through a soft carpet of pine needles. He was riding for a few days and a few nights, and then in the middle of a forest he met an old woman who was gathering sticks. He greeted her and asked her about what life was like nowadays in this land. The old lady didn’t give more than three words as an answer. “If you really wish to know what has been happening, we will have to sit down by a warm fire.” The Necromancer put the old woman’s bags on the back of his horse, then they slowly made their way to the old cottage where she lived. There she gave a loaf of bread and a cup of tea to her guest. The Necromancer couldn’t recall the last time when he had eaten or drunk, the loaf of bread and the tea felt like old friends he hadn’t seen in years. The old lady told him everything there was to know about the land. She complained quite a lot about these new lords who brought their foreign customs with them and had no respect for the people’s traditions. Only a few remember how things used to be, but the younger generations don’t listen to their ancestor’s tales anymore, but rather let the new rulers fill their heads with their own stories. The Necromancer didn’t like the sound of these complaints. He understood the old woman’s grief, but it was not his place to intervene with the ever-changing political struggles of humans. What mortals had built yesterday, they destroy it today, and they will build it once again when the Sun rises. The old lady missed the old times, and claimed that the new lords of the land had no honor, abused their power and cared not for the common folks. “But my time is over, it is their world now and they shall do whatever they want with it.” Night was falling. The Necromancer thanked the old lady for her kindness and hospitality and wished all the best to her, but as he got back on his horse, the old woman spoke to him once again. “When I was a young girl – and believe me it wasn’t yesterday – one time I have seen a rider just like you. He rode a horse like this one, wore clothes like yours, his hair and his face too were exactly like yours. My father warned me not to stare at him for he was the lord of life and death, not only here, but in the surrounding kingdoms as well. Not everyone has forgotten where the real borders of this world lie.” The Necromancer thought about the old lady’s words, then bowed his head and said to her: “It was a great honor to meet you, miss.” Then he turned his horse and rode off into the darkness. As soon as he arrived back at his castle he ordered his servants to gather every provision they had no need for, pack salts, oils, candles, everything they could spare and bring them to the old woman’s cottage. He chose the best looking of his servants and told him to accompany the others but he mustn’t come back for the old lady will be his new master until the day she dies. The Necromancer stood on his balcony and watched as his envoys slowly disappeared among the tall pin trees.
