The Necromancer

The necromancer, one of the lowest and most feared people in the world. Riaz is one of them, misjudged as darkness is to be feared not to be used for good, Riaz fights the prejudice and the darkness itself as she attempts to find a balance in order to save the world.

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3. The market

   The stones landed just a few metres away from where she stepped. Terrible aim if she must say so herself, she glared at the children. They blew raspberries and ran off yelling and fighting. Tch, damn kids she wasn't a witch, you only throw stones at a witch. Wrapping herself in the dark cloth, she peered at the town from under the purple hood. 

   Her stomach growled loudly, if it weren't for all the noise, everyone would of heard it. She flicked her eyes annoyed, hunger was the worst with no food around. She headed towards the place where the noise was the loudest, in every town the loudest place was always the market, and the market meant food.

   The crowd grew thicker and thicker until she was eventually pushing and shoving like the rest of them, if only she could fly, like the necromancers of old. She remembered the paintings, pictures of necromancers floating above their army of dead. Maybe she could, she'll have to look into it, flight was one thing about being a necromancer that had to be fun.

   She followed the smell of the bakery, all food stalls and shops had a unique smell, but the bakery had to be the best, especially in the morning. It smelt of warmth and sweets, of freshly baked bread and snacks. Her nose guided her way through the crowd until suddenly she was facing a huge row of bread and cakes and all sorts of food. She drooled hungrily, almost forgetting that she had to buy it first.

   Rummaging through her bag she found her money, or what was left of it. The sorry amount in her fist was a few pieces of cold copper, grimy from it's time in her pocket. She glared at it, resisting the smell and the urge to suddenly take a loaf of bread and run. She could do it. Magic could do it rather, no one would know.

   "I'm not a witch, I don't use magic selfishly, I'm not a witch, I don't use magic selfishly" she sighed, repeating it over and over. She closed her eyes and tore away from the bench, to go anywhere but the bakery. She found herself moments later sitting with her head in her arms listening to the music of her stomach growling. 

   She glanced up, time to find them, stop them, maybe kill them. She glanced at the sun, almost mid-day she'll have to focus on the task at hand. Leaping from her spot she hurried down the road, away from the market and towards the castle.

   It was only when she neared the top did she realise who quiet the place was, and there weren't guards at the gates, her heart stopped in her chest, was she too late? She leapt through and ran towards the castle doors, to see the blood splattered and bodies fallen.

   She felt the body, it was still warm, and the smell wasn't strong enough yet to make her puke, if there was anything in her stomach to puke. She listened ahead, and faintly heard the sound of clashing metal, screams and shouts.

   "You ruined my plans, and I'm hungry, this is not a good day for you," she said to a fallen attacker. "You better hope there's a body left for burial after I'm done with you" she said as she summoned him to life.

   The man yelped, his rib-cage was still bleeding from the a pervious slash attack, "what am I doing here? I'm supposed to be dead, witch, why have you brought me back?" he yelled at her. 

   "Shut up, you're dead, you have no say in the matter, and what witch can bring back people from the dead, I'm a necromancer. Get it right" she gritted her teeth.

   "Now follow me, we're going to put your friends down" she sighed. He watched in horror as his body refused his command and accepted hers. 

   "I'm not going to listen to you" he spat at her, "especially not against my own people"

   "It's not like you have a choice" this was her social life, arguing with the dead. They headed up the stairs to meet another layer of chaos. 

   The battle had torn the hanging tapestries and huge pieces of stone were lying around the place. Warriors and Knights alike were hammering at each-other with crude pieces of metal they used as weapons. Bodies lay limp on the floor and the King was seen with a great sword decimating the attackers in the flung open throne room. The crown still firmly placed on his head.

   "How about that, most kings would run at the first sight of trouble, this one is a leader." 

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