//------------------------------// // 6 - Judging Foals // Story: The Necromancer's Ambition // by KuroiTsubasaTenshi //------------------------------// One hour... two. The awkwardness stretched out like a net, trapping us in its bonds. The Necromancer sat in front of the fireplace, pretending to read 501 Utility Spells as she watched me pretend to sleep. At that rate, I was in for a long stay. The book drifted shut and the Necromancer stood, but she didn’t move. She stared into the fire, something unseen burning away. Several minutes passed and she didn’t so much as twitch. I was starting to wonder if she had passed out when she turned with decisive abruptness. She strode over and gave me a look that bored into my soul. “How much did you see?” I met her gaze. Assuming that I was supposed to find the book, there was little point in lying. “Until the spell worked on the rat.” “What did you think?” “That this ‘Ivory’ is heading down a dark path. One that will steal her innocence with power.” I waited for the retort, the insistence that she was the good pony, that she had only wandered into the clutches of darkness for the greater good. But it didn’t come; the Necromancer said nothing. Neither did I. One could say silently staring at each other was becoming a habit. The Necromancer spun and headed for the door. --- At some point, the soreness became numbness, and the numbness, nothingness. A rather fragile nothingness as every little sound, from the crackle of the fire to the groaning of the wood, brought me back to awareness. I normally don’t have issues sleeping in unfamiliar places, but I suppose up until then I’d never been stuck in a necromancer’s house, surrounded by zombies. I wore no shackles, but my subconscious could see the situation quite clearly The door creaked and I cracked an eye. The Necromancer trotted back in and stopped in front of the cabinet. She gave the lock an intense stare, as though seeing it for the first time. After a few minutes, she turned and left again. This repeated several times over the course of the next few hours. Each time she came back, I wondered if maybe I really had legitimately run into something I wasn’t supposed to and that she might be contemplating finishing me off. I started coming up with ways to get the drop on her, most of which involved hiding behind or above the door. I was wondering just how good a weapon one of those ancient chairs would make when the cabinet doors flew open. The journal sprung out, making a short arc before settling in front of me with a dull thud. I raised an eyebrow. “What—” “You should know the truth before you judge.” She looked at me and my mind stumbled over itself. There was something barely present, lurking just under the hardened bluntness. Vulnerability, hope… fear. Part of me had her pegged as a patient and talented actress. The rest wasn’t so sure. A pony isolated from society would have more than a few issues acquiring the necessary practice. Unless, of course, acting was her special talent. And even then, who would seriously choose to ignore her own cutie mark, run off into a wood and become a feared necromancer? “Well? Are you going to just sit there or what?” The Necromancer’s voice was completely firm again. I watched her closely and very deliberately moved a forehoof to the cover of the book. It took several minutes before I found where I’d left off. Dear Journal, It worked! Cotton is alive and well! I even got my cutie mark while I was doing it (it’s something coming out of a grave because I’m good at making things alive again)! I was worried because Moss just stared at me and Cotton for a long time. But then he jumped up and hugged me and didn’t let go almost forever. He called me the best friend ever and pointed out my new cutie mark! It was a good feeling. -Ivory I blinked and reread the entry two more times. Here was a pony who was not only unfazed by necromancy, but seemed to encourage it. It just felt wrong, like the dark magic itself had left a bubbling stain on the paper. Regardless of just how unenviable a position it would have been to object to a pony's cutie mark, as a friend, I felt he should have intervened. Dear Journal, Today Prideful wasn't being loud and annoying. He even looked sad. When I asked Moss, he said Prideful's grandma died. I thought I'd be happy to see something bad finally happen to that meanie, but this just feels empty. Even after all he's done, I'm sad for him. Is that weird? -Ivory I glanced up and the Necromancer met my gaze. There was that weariness again, like it was a forgone conclusion that I would reach another forgone conclusion. When I stopped to think about it, I realized that was because it was probably true. My eyes dropped and I hastily returned to the journal. Dear Journal, At lunch, one of Prideful's friends came over and started asking about Cotton. I guess they finally heard. I don't know if the spell will work on ponies. I mean, I did the calculations and in theory, I can just scale up all the magic. But I can't help but feel I'm missing something. I'm going back to recheck those formulae. -Ivory Dear Journal, Prideful came to me today and demanded to know about the spell. The funeral is coming up soon and he wants me to try it before that happens. Moss says I shouldn't help him. But if I have a chance to end other ponies' suffering, shouldn't I take it? Prideful says he'll let me in tomorrow after school. -Ivory I shook my head. Everything about the situation screamed “train wreck”. Everything. Yet there was nothing malicious or ulterior about their endeavour. Had I been in the same position a year or so ago, I might have followed the same line of logic. Could I really blame these near-foals for trying to make the best of their situation? The next page was tear-stained. Dear Journal, Moss was right. I don’t know what I missed, but it was bad. The spell brought Prideful's grandma back, but it wasn't right. She was saying weird things and didn't even recognize Prideful. They tried to talk for five minutes, but nothing was getting through. The whole time I could see Prideful's face getting redder and redder. Then he said I did it on purpose! I would never do that! Then he tried to hit me! But his grandma protected me and beat him up. I think she was going to kill him, but I cast the counter-spell before she could. We took Prideful to the clinic and everypony was looking at me weird and whispering. I said I was sorry, but they just kept staring. I ran home and hid in my room. What do I do? -Ivory Dear Journal, Mom said I'm not going to school today. I don't know why. She keeps giving me this look. It’s almost like she’s scared. But that can't be right, can it? I tried to study some magic, but I can't focus. I need to talk to Moss. He always knows what to do. Maybe I can see him at school tomorrow. -Ivory Dear Journal, I'm not going to school anymore and nopony will say why. I asked mom if I could go see Moss. She said I can't see him anymore. Is it the Prideful thing? I just wanted to help. I started talking to Feather. I know she’s just a foal, but I need somepony who will listen, even if she can’t understand me. -Ivory I reeled, my heart giving under the crushing force of an invisible punch. Dear Journal, I snuck out today. I heard mom and dad say Moss was in the clinic and I had to see him. He wasn't awake. They said he fell off a cliff on the way to the forest. But he knows the path too well for that and I could have sworn there were hoof marks on his stomach. I think I know who did it, but nopony is willing to listen. Maybe when he's awake they’ll listen to him. -Ivory Dear Journal, Everypony is gone. I went to Moss's room and it was empty. I went to his house and it was empty too. I felt like I wanted to collapse. But then Prideful and his goons started chasing me. They were throwing stones and calling me the evil sorcerer! I'm not evil! I just wanted to help! I ran all the way home, but everypony was gone there too! Mom, dad, Feather, the servants, they all just vanished! I don't know what to do. I guess at least Prideful left. They couldn’t get past the gate. But I know they'll be back with more and then they’ll try to do those horrible things they said they were going to do to me. I need to get out of here. I know! I'll go to the forest. Maybe Moss will be there. Please let Moss be there. -Ivory That was the last page of the journal. I stared at the back cover. No extra writing materialized. I opened my mouth, but something was caught in my throat. “Well? Have you condemned me yet?” There was a certain edge to the Necromancer’s voice, like a fight was inevitable. My eyes remained on the journal and the barest whispered escaped my lips. “No.” “What?” I looked up and was met with a face that couldn’t be more baffled, even if she tried. I was an alien creature, disguised as a pony, because a real pony would have chosen the right answer. I cleared my throat. “My findings are inconclusive. Would you… tell me more?” As she hesitated, I saw something on her face, there for only the briefest of moments. A foal-like hope, buried beneath years of solitude and pain. “You… you would listen to this old mare’s tale?” I took a deep breath and nodded. I had to know. “Better get comfortable.”