The Mediator

by XenosFire

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Ever since I was young, I could see spirits. Not only could I see them, I could talk to them. And more often than not, they talked back. Not that that was particularly special in my family. It’s a pretty common trait, truth be told.

“Now, Trickle, carefully fold the dough over and over, and make sure to work in the air. Makes the bread much fluffier!”

“Sure thing, Gramma.” I eagerly set my hooves into the slightly sticky mass, the flower on the counter helping the bundle from sticking to both the wooden surface and myself. Sure, I had a horn, but the feeling of making something with my own body, it was something I felt truly proud of. I kneaded the dough over and over, almost losing myself in the rhythm, before a gentle but firm voice pulled me out of my focus.

“Now, not too much. That should be plenty. Let the dough rise for a little while. In the meantime, why don’t you work on cleaning up a smidge. If your mother sees the mess in here, she’ll have more than I few choice words, I reckon.”

I turn around and wince. Sure enough the kitchen looked like a small herd of yaks had run through. And each of them were made of flower and sugar. Small clumps of dough had even found its’ way onto the ceiling of all places. I could have worn I was being more careful than that.

“Oh, come on! How in the world did that even happen? I was so sure I had it handled…” My head hung low, a deep sigh escaping my lungs. “I guess I’ll get the mop…do you know where the bucket is?”

“Right where you left it, of course.”

“And I don’t suppose you know where I left it?”

“I do.”

We both had a small staring contest, but with her having an unfair advantage, I really had no chance of winning. After a small while, my eyes started watering and I blinked rapidly. Using a hoof, I quickly tried to wipe the water from my eyes, only to get dough smeared all over my face. I heard the sound of laughter from behind me, as I tried to get the sticky mess off my face, in the end only making it worse.

“You really need to keep better track of where you keep things. If we keep helping you, you’ll never learn.” She chuckled again. “Although I suppose if you want to get this mess cleaned up in time, not to mention the kitchen, I can lend a hoof this once, but if I see you slacking, that’s it!” She paused in her tirade, humming thoughtfully to herself. “Now where did I put my apron?”

“Hello, pot, I’m kettle.”

“Oh, shush, you. At least I have an excuse. I lost my mind ages ago.”

“Still not funny, Gramma. You only use that one almost every day.”

“I see that my wit is unappreciated in this time. I guess I won’t help you after all. I’ll just take my unfunny self and…”

“No! No! I didn’t mean it!” I threw myself against her long robes, grabbing at her front legs. I did my best to give her my saddest face, tears welling up in my eyes and my lower lip quivering in my best pout. I stared up at her and dared her to resist my charm. “You’re the funniest, the smartest, the-the wittiest pony I know!”

“You know, if you weren’t covered in batter, I might have been able to resist, but confound it!” She grabbed hold of me tightly, nuzzling the top of my head. “I swear, you’re even cuter than your father when he was your age. Fine, I’ll help you, but no more sass, understood?” She gently pushed me away before turning back around and walking towards the cabinetry. Or at least she would have had a loud clatter not echoed though the room, causing both of us to pause.

“I know I said I’d lend a hoof, but…” She hopped away a couple steps, revealing a bleach white foreleg laying on the floor. “I don’t suppose this is exactly what you had in mind, right?” She waved her stump underneath her robe at me. “But don’t worry about me, I’m all RIGHT now!” She chuckled and sat down on the wooden floor, the twin lights in her eye sockets glowing a pale blue as she chuckled at her own jokes. I walked over and picked up her leg before giving her a flat look.

“Gramma, that’s the fourth time this week that something has fallen off. It’s starting to get a little old.” I walked over to the door and lay the appendage against the frame. “You’ll have to wait until Dad gets back again, so for the time being, you’ll have to leave again until he has a chance to look at you.” I sigh and look at the mess around me. “Looks like I am doing this by myself after all.”

Gramma hobbled over to the door and started taking off her robe, with some assistance by me, revealing her pure white skeleton, sans her left foreleg. Once she had lay down, her eyes suddenly dimmed and her body clattered to the floor like a puppet with its’ strings cut. A light blue wisp emerged from the pile of bones, coalescing into the form of an older mare. She sighed deeply as she floated past me, coming to rest next to me, her ethereal hoof resting gently against my withers. “I know this is most unbecoming after I said I’d help, I swear it wasn’t intentional.”

I give her a smile before getting up and starting to gather the various bowls and utensils I had amassed during my baking foray. “I know, I know, can’t help it when it happens. I don’t think I can put you back together on my own this time. I simply don’t have the reserves for properly rebuild you.”

“Oh, horseapples, you simply haven’t grown into your heritage is all. Your father couldn’t even animate a skeleton at your age, so you have him beat in that regard at least. Just give it time and some practice…wait scratch that, LOTS of practice, and you’ll be a fine necromancer.”

“Lemme, guess, you can feel it in your bones?”

“Drat, beat me to the punch line. Well, for the time being, you had best get a move on. There’s a lot of work to do, and the longer we sit her yapping, the longer it’s gonna take to finish.”

I nod and, with a final sigh of acceptance, start the daunting task of cleaning up after myself.

You see, my family and I are all necromancers. Not by choice really, as we are all born with the ability, but I can’t see myself doing anything else really. I am never alone, and my family is a lot of fun, despite their quirks. Gramma thinks she has the world’s best sense of humor, and Grampa tends to agree, though he’s more quiet and collected. Great Uncle Stone is almost always hanging out in the fields, claiming that just because he’s dead, doesn’t mean he doesn’t have work to do, while his mother constantly chides him for his “workaholic” nature. I have around fourteen members all told, the only living among them being my two parents, Sunny Acres and Harvest Winds. My father is the one who has been teaching me the art of necromancy, since my mother can’t do it.

Before each of our lessons, he always reminds me of the most important rule we uphold: Life is precious and must be protected. Creatures have an eternity to be dead, but only a short while to enjoy life. And as such, he has a small laboratory in the back of the house where he mixes potions and remedies for the populace down the mountain. But sometimes, even he can’t help and somepony dies. After they are buried he always makes sure that the dead can rest. Says that not everyone likes that they die. Many are scared and it’s his duty to make sure they can pass on. I hope to one day be as amazing as he is.

Mom may not be able to speak to the dead like Dad and I, but that doesn’t stop her trying to have conversations through us. She mostly goes through Dad, though. Something about me not being old enough to join in on some conversations. But, despite not having the talents we do, she prides herself on being the best baker alive. She says that bit jokingly, since Gramma insists that she was, in fact, better than she is. But, since today is Mom’s birthday, I managed to convince Gramma to teach me one of her recipes to surprise Mom with. Hence why I am currently wiping up what looks like an explosion of batter. Still confused how I managed to make the kitchen THAT dirty.

Gramma tells me when it’s time to put the loaf in the oven, making a huge fuss over being careful with the hot oven. I roll my eyes, and slide the pan into the oven without incident, sometimes she can be so paranoid. While the, hopefully, delicious bread bakes, I manage to clean up the rest of the kitchen, using my magic finally to get the last few bits from the ceiling. There’s still a bit of time left, so I run quickly to the bathroom, taking a bucket from the counter and dipping it into a small heated tub. I need to be sure to not waste the hot water, since it takes a while to heat up anything up here.

As I scrub the mess off me, I look outside for any trace of Mom or Dad. All I could see was Uncle Stone working on moving snow away from the entrance to our home. I wave cheerfully at him and he waves once back, before returning to work. Not much else to look at though, with us living near the peak of the mountain north of town. Dad says that the ponies down there might be scared of seeing everyone up here, since they’re, y’know, dead. I mean, I guess I can understand, but it seems silly.

I poured the rest of the bucket over my head, shivering slightly, once the cooler air started closing in after the initial rush of warmth. I rushed out, nearly running into Grampa as he made his way down the hall. He reached out a hoof and stopped me before I could rush around him.

“Don’ worry, lad,I a’ready took care o’ yer pasty. Dry yerself off, fore you catcher death o’ cold. Still far too early to have yer soul join ours.” He pulled me back into the bathroom and swiftly grabbed a hanging towel, placing over my head before swiftly rubbing me down. Between the pain of his hard hoof and the embarrassment, I tried to pull away.

“Grampa, I’m already twelve, I can do it by myself!”

“Aye, I’ll believe tha’ when I see it. Says he’s ole enough to do it himself, but runs out while soakin’ wet into the freezin’ halls. Are ye young’re just daft, boy?”

I flush harder in embarrassment, but just let him finish, his methods becoming gentler now that I wasn’t struggling to get away. He was right of course. I look up at his glowing orange eyes, “I’m sorry.”

“I know ye are, but do try to get tha’ head o’ yers on straight. I swear, had I a workin’ heart, I’d be havin’ attacks constantly.” He pulled the towel off me and gave my head a gentle tap. “Yer a brilliant boy, to be sure, but sometimes I wonder if’n you have even a lick o’ common sense. I mightn’t have been th’ sharpest scythe in the shed, but I have plenny o’ sense. Now, enough feelin’ sorry fer yerself, let’s get going to the kitchen and see ‘ow yer loaf turned out.”

I nod and shake myself a bit before trotting next to Grampa towards the kitchen, the smell of cinnamon flowed down the hall and my mouth started watering.

“Oh, it smells so good!”

He nodded and continued into the kitchen, holding the door open for me. I walked past him and saw Gramma hovering over the loaf, inspecting it carefully, poking it with an ethereal hoof out of habit and mumbling to herself. She turned toward me after a few more moments of inspection.

“I do believe that you have yourself an authentic piece of Jubilation Cinnamon Raisin Bread. A little misshapen, but that comes with experience. I would bet my left leg that it will taste amazing”

My face erupted into a huge smile. “You mean the leg you lost?”

She smiled and shook her head. “Getting quicker, I’m gonna need to get some new material to keep you on your toes. But yes, I do believe that your dear mother will thoroughly love this. Dear, would you mind putting it into the bread box on the third shelf? Should keep it fresh enough until Harvest and Sunny arrive.”

With a nod, Grampa lifted the loaf and placed it in said box, gently closing it like it was some precious item. They both approached me, Grampa placing his hoof on my head while Gramma wrapped her ghostly form around my neck. I simply basked in their affection and my pride. I couldn’t wait for Mom and Dad to get back home!

Comments

[Stellar_]

Honestly pretty good so far. The writing is great and I didn't catch any mistakes, though I don't have an eye for that. The only real nitpick I have so far is that the story description seems a bit bland and not interesting and that there doesn't seem to be a plot as for now.

[Blue Cultist]

Honestly, this isn't bad for a first attempt. The interaction between the foal and his grandmother was good, and I could see a necromancer story working if done carefully. (I'm toying with an original fantasy story about a young necomancer, actually).

[XenosFire]

8762437
Coming from you, that's really high praise! Thank you for taking the time to read it.

By the way, will you be starting your own story before or after you finish Lord Barleycorn and Lost and Blind?

[-Brutus]

I just added this fanfic into group- Necromancy :) Hopefully it generates more attention.