//------------------------------// // 5 - The Nameless Book // Story: The Necromancer's Ambition // by KuroiTsubasaTenshi //------------------------------// I’ve never been one to laze around all day, especially not back then. After what must have been at least an hour of failing to lull myself to sleep, I turned my gaze to the bookshelf the Necromancer had indicated. Maybe I could find something normal to read. I stole a glance at my right hind leg. I’d moved on three legs before, but that was usually just a couple steps while I used the free leg to open or close something. With very deliberate motions, and a bit of help from my wings, I pushed myself to my hooves. A few baby steps grew into full steps. As it turns out, if a pony isn’t in a hurry, three legs is plenty enough for walking. I got to the shelf in good time, my eyes momentarily flitting to the cabinet. The handles were gone, or rather, thick metal plates took their place. Runes were etched into the iron, spoiling any chance for regular handles to be attached. I’d only seen such unicorn-only locks on very rare occasions, their rather prohibitive price keeping most ponies from owning one. It was in that weird place that felt appropriate, yet odd, for a back woods necromancer. With nothing left to do but gawk, I turned that effort upon the bookcase. It was loaded with advanced magical texts, from spell compendiums to complex magical theory. As much as magic interested me, I couldn’t ever hope to go beyond the basics. Inability to actually cast the spells aside, the tomes treat the horn like another, completely intuitive limb. When I was younger, I had tried to simply push past the alienness of it all. It was something akin to learning a foreign language with another foreign language that I barely understood in the first place. Simply put, I got nowhere fast. I sighed and turned back to my cot. That was when something caught my eye. A book with no title was wedged between the first and second volumes of Magical Calculus. Several tugs later and I let out a sneeze, blasting the dust from the brown book between my teeth. The only writing on the cover was a faded two, something I was certain wasn’t the title. Curiosity took hold and I was on the first page without a second thought. I was greeted by a wall of hoofwriting. The lines crept down the page with the messy, but earnest enthusiasm of a foal. Nothing was totally illegible, although I found myself guessing at words whenever the author became excited. Dear Journal, Today I made a new friend! Prideful and his friends were saying mean things again. They said ponies without cutie marks are big losers who should just go away. I wanted to run and hide. Then Moss (that’s my new friend) came in and scared them off. He’s really big and strong. He can pull Mrs. Wheat’s wagon all by himself! I can’t wait to see him again tomorrow. -Ivory I blinked, the hair on the back of my neck going up. The entry was dated a bit over thirty years ago and given the name, it was obvious whose journal this was. It was convenient, enough to leave me too suspicious to take it at face value. A victim? Friend? Enemy? With a side-to-side glance, I hobbled back to my hay mattress and hunkered down for a bit of speed reading. Dear Journal, I had lunch with Moss today. It feels weird having somepony to talk to. But I'm glad he wanted to be my friend. He told me he likes go into the forest and look at plants. I don't like the forest. It's spooky and they say an evil sorcerer lives there doing his dark magic. Moss says it's a lie and that the forest is really nice. He said he'll take me there sometime. He also likes math. I thought I was the only pony who did! It was really neat talking about it. Too bad he gets all confused when I started talking about magic. It’s like the best part of math! -Ivory I had to admit something about this struck a chord with me. Having been 'the new filly' more than once, I know it can be hard to break the ice and make friends. To put a cherry on top, the sorcerer rumour sounded an awful lot like the Necromancer. Sure, there was a possible gender conflict, but in a dire situation, it’s easy for details like that to get lost. Dear Journal, Prideful was picking on me again, but Moss was there, so it didn’t last long. But he had to kick Prideful to make him stop. He was bleeding a lot and then the teacher put them in the corner. I don't like ponies hurting each other. I wish we could all just get along. But Moss said Prideful won't learn from anything but a hoof. I don't know. Prideful just seemed to get mad. I hope Moss didn't get in much trouble. -Ivory Dear Journal, We snuck out to the forest after school. Moss was right. It's a really pretty place. He told me about all the plants. Like the Birch and the Pine. It was a lot to remember. But it was fun. I think we even saw a rabbit. We promised to do it again sometime soon. I can’t wait. -Ivory A knot formed in my stomach. How many times until, one way or another, they end up here? Dear Journal, Today Moss was not at school. I hope he’s not sick. Lunch was very lonely without him. Then I had to do math by myself too. But that’s okay, we can catch up later. Got to go now. Mom says dinner is ready. -Ivory Dear Journal, Moss said his kitty died. That means Cotton doesn’t get to wake up anymore. Poor kitty. Poor Moss. He was so sad. I wish I could fix it. Maybe there is a magical alarm clock that can wake dead kitties up. I should look in the library. I’m going to do that now. -Ivory Dread. That’s the only way to describe how I felt. I had little doubt as to Ivory’s identity now. Where this was going was quite clear to me, yet I couldn’t look away. Dear Journal, The library did not have books about dead kitty alarm clocks. Just magical alarm clock alarm clocks. Some of them were very pretty and shiny. There was also a book about talking to the dead. It had scary pictures. But Cotton isn’t scary. Maybe I can put them together and make an alarm clock that talks to the dead. That’s kind of the same thing, right? -Ivory Dear Journal, The spells don’t work together. There are parts of them that cannot be. Putting them together makes them brzap and fall apart. I told Moss I am working hard to get his kitty back. He said he is happy I am trying but it is OK. Sad friends are not OK. I promised I would fix it and that’s what I’m going to do. -Ivory I have found the urge to shout at the characters to make, or not make, certain decisions to be the mark of a good novel. But when that grip is turned upon a real pony it's... well, let’s just say ‘as bone-chilling as a Windigo’ is an understatement. I had to double check to ensure I hadn’t skipped a page because there was nearly a year’s interlude between entries. A rather long time for a young, impressionable filly. Dear Journal, Sorry I’m not writing as often. My magic notes are kind of hogging my thoughts. I don’t know what went wrong. I tried my new spell on a rat. It even got up for a second! Then it popped like a balloon. It was really gross. It still kind of scares me to think about it. But I have to keep going. Maybe if I adjust the inflow from the Vim spell. Let me get back to you. -Ivory Another six months went by between entries. Dear Journal, I did it! I got a rat to come back! It doesn’t really do anything other than stand there and it still looks gross and stuff, but I still did it! I think I can fix both problems if I adjust the Regeneration component. I can’t wait to tell Moss! -Ivory Dear Journal, It didn’t work. The Regeneration overpowered the rest of the spell. All I got was a dead rat that looked like it wasn’t. My magic isn’t strong enough to compensate. Not all at once. Maybe that’s the key! If I can get a focus, maybe I can bend a few rules! -Ivory Dear Journal, I convinced dad to take me to Iron Shoe. It took some shopping around, but I found something that could work. I wish we could have gone someplace bigger, but mom and dad are always so nervous about big cities. I can’t say I can blame them, either. I guess we’ll see if this is good enough. -Ivory Dear Journal, I feel like I ran a marathon. That was a lot more magic than I anticipated. But it worked! This rat looks healthy, acts healthy and is very much not dead. Soon, I’ll fulfill my promise. I can’t wait to see the look on Moss’s face! -Ivory The door slammed shut and I jumped halfway out of my coat. The Necromancer stood in the middle of the room, staring at me. Our eyes met, locking for a few long moments, then hers fell down to the journal. “Where did you get that?!” she snapped. The book yanked itself out from under my forehooves and zipped over to her. I looked her in the eye again. “On the shelf you showed me.” “Lies! It doesn’t belong there!” The Necromancer stomped, her cloak blasting out around her. I shook my head, doing my best to keep my voice level. “Regardless of whether it belongs there or not, I found it shoved between your Magic Calculus books. She scowled at me, suspicion and anger radiating off her like heat from a volcano. For just a split second, I thought I caught a hint of pain, of indecision, in her eyes. Then she spun on her heel and started fiddling with her cabinet. I gritted my teeth, pushing the lingering effects of the journal from my mind. I had to think rationally. The journal was too conveniently placed, her return too well-timed. Granted, that was rather circumstantial evidence, but the best way to be sure was to interrogate the Necromancer, herself. And in my current condition, I felt that would be something akin to poking an Ursa with a stick.