Heather the Necromancer

Umtha sat on the steps of her woven hut, looking over the yard. Goblins labored around her to build a proper village and create a new home across the stream from the graveyard. She looked up to see the crow sitting on a tree branch watching her intently but paid it no mind. She went back to sitting there like she was thinking over a deep thought as the village went up around her.

None of the others were happy the village was here. Frank even asked Umthat to build it a little farther back so it would be in his way. She agreed and set the village back from the stream but insisted she would stay where Heather was from now on. No amount of asking why produced any useful answer, so Heather decided to get some another way.

Heather jumped along the branch to get a little closer, relishing being able to spy like this. Flying was far more fun than it had any right to be, and being small and inconspicuous had significant advantages. She watched the goblins for a few hours, trying to figure out what they were thinking. If they were NPCs' why would they move the village or care Heather had taken off the crown? Certainly, Umtha cared and was taking it somewhat hard, but getting her to admit why was pointless. The two ideas didn't seem to come together, and she wondered if just maybe there was more to the goblin woman than met the eye.

Unfortunately, Heather was learning nothing by watching them and decided to fly back to the tower. It felt great to feel the wind on her wings and look down at the graveyard below. She flew to the study window and silently reached out for Webster.

“I am coming through the window now, don’t eat me,” she said.

She landed on the chair and looked at the little statue sitting in the middle of the room. Webster was on the table just behind her, watching but not moving as she turned to face him.

“You’re as big as a horse to me now,” she said telepathically.

Webster beat his front legs in the air, and she flapped her wings back at him. She then tilted her head as an idea came to mind and silently sent the thought over.

“Faster,” she urged as Webster walked out the front door of the tower with Heather sitting on his back. She listened to his reply and flapped her wings again. “What do you mean you can't go faster? I have seen you chase down mice.” She sighed and leaned over to look him in his upper eyes. “Well, thank you for being considerate and afraid I might fall off.”

“Oh, for heaven's sake,” Breanne said as she walked by in the graveyard. “Are you going to ride the spider now?”

Heather flapped her wings and crowed as Breanne shook her head. This was too much fun to give up on now. Besides, the graveyard looked so much more interesting from down here with towering stone monuments and giant trees. She could even steer by thinking the directions to Webster and guiding him along. She decided to test out his climbing and had him scale a mausoleum to stand on the roof's peak while she sat on his back.

“Well, this is fun,” she said in her mind. “I wonder if you can carry me wherever I need to go?” She listened to his reply and pecked at his head. “You can too carry me,” she said back. “I carried you in my backpack; it's only fair.” His legs waved in the air, and she ruffled her feathers, cawing at him. “Fine, I will sit on the bone knight then, and he can carry me.” Webster replied in her head, and she stomped a foot on him. “Oh no, he's not wearing a backpack so you can ride.” Webster let out a sad whistle, and she hopped closer to his head. “Fine, you can ride too, just stop being so sad all the time.

“Heather?” Frank called up from below. “Are you standing on Webster?”

“Yes,” she said nearly perfectly. She was rather proud of how many words she could manage as a crow and waited for Frank to reply.

“When did you want to go look for the goblins?” he asked.

She tried to say tomorrow, but there were many syllables, and it came out more like tahmowow. Frank scratched his head below, and she huffed and flew for the tower and the open window. She leaned out the window a moment later in her normal form and called down. “Tomorrow!”

“Maybe you shouldn’t play with that thing so much,” Frank called back up.

“Why? It’s fun, do you want to try it?”

“I don't think so,” he said as he moved closer. “What happens if that thing breaks or gets stolen while you're flying around as a bird?”

She honestly hadn't considered that and looked down at the statue in her hand and wondered. She supposed if she was stuck as a bird, she could die and respawn, but just thinking that made her heart race. Still, it was in her tower, and if she really wanted to keep it safe, she could order her bone knight to carry it.

“I will just make sure it stays safe,” Heather said.

“All anybody has to do is put that in a room with a locked door, and you will be stuck,” he pointed out.

“We don’t know that,” Heather said. “Maybe it wears off at midnight or something.”

“And what if your flying when it wears off?”

Heather imagined plummeting to the ground to land on one of the tombstones or worse the spikes of the fence. The thought wasn't pleasant, but she looked over the statue again and shrugged. “I don't see any way to find out unless we use it.”

“It’s your respawn,” he said.

The thought of dying from a fall wasn't all that appealing, but then what death was? Of all the ways she could have been killed already, which one of them was better? She shrugged and walked back into the room and put the statue on the floor, and a moment later flew out the window as a crow.

“You probably should have eaten her,” Frank said to Webster as she flew over the forest. “It would have made her more careful.”

Heather sailed over the trees enjoying the freedom flying gave her. She didn't understand why nobody else wanted to try it and decided she would explore the village and see what was going on. Over the last few days, a few people were playing there and exploring the forest for experience. Heather flew to a tree overlooking the central courtyard of the tiny town and watched with interest.

There was a man in armor with a modest sword talking to a woman in simple robes. She had a wand of some kind of wand in her right hand and waved it as she worked a spell. She then touched the wand to the man, and he glowed briefly with a blue light. He smiled and led the way, taking her into the forest to seek adventure.

“I wonder if they came in together?” Heather thought to herself. “Maybe a husband and wife?”

She flew after them and watched as they tackled a bat, the man meeting it head-on while the woman fired glowing darts from a safe distance. The bat was little challenge for them, and they pressed deeper in, killing a few more bats before taking on a wolf. The wolf did a better job managing to bite the warrior and draw blood, but he shrugged it off and quickly put it down.

“Not a bad team,” Heather remarked as she watched. They took on another wolf, and the man had it fully engaged when the woman began her spell. She waved the wand repeating the words as a dark form appeared out of the shadows behind her. A moment later, a sword went through her chest as a man in black leather threw her down. Heather was mortified to see the sudden attack and even more shocked when the man stepped back into the shadows and vanished.

The warrior called for help as he fought the wolf and turned to see the woman lying in a heap ten paces behind him. He panicked a little, and the wolf got a good hold of him, but he struggled back and managed to beat it alone but took few good wounds for it. He quickly rushed to the fallen woman as Heather crowed and called in alarm. Just as the man bent over her body, the shadow moved, and the sword cut through the man's left shoulder. He tried to turn and fight, but the shadowy figure moved too fast, slashing at him twice for every sword swing the warrior made. The fight was over in ten seconds as the warrior fell over his dead partner.

Heather felt a sense of rage to see this happen. She hated the fact that players preyed on one another with the stronger always picking on the weak. She burned the shadowy man's image into her memory and took the air heading directly for her tower. She dived through the window and flew directly to the figurine, grabbing it with one claw to call out the magic word.

She set the statue on the table, and stormed out of the study, going directly to her room. She had the robes of those arrogant adventurers she sent down into Franks tunnels. He saved the robes and staff for her because he thought they were pretty. She quickly put them on, taking up the staff and stood before her mirror.

“Now I look like any other wizard,” she said with a smile. The door slammed as she stormed out of the tower and across the graveyard for the forest. Webster was crawling around the fence, and she stopped to address him.

“Come, a wizard needs her familiar,” Heather said with a smile.

Together they passed into the forest, heading directly to where she saw the two people get murdered. She was careful not to approach any tree that might cast a shadow, or hide the intruder. She used her telepathy to tell Webster why they were here and asked him to watch for anything that moved. The spider replied with a chirp and put his many eyes to work watching for hidden threats. She smiled as they rounded a bend and saw the bodies, now picked over with packs thrown open and the contents spilled on the ground.

“I am going to act silly,” Heather said over the telepathy. “Just play along.”

Webster nodded with a bounce, and she stopped as if seeing the bodies for the first time.

“Oh, goodness!” Heather said. “Those poor people must have run into a wolf. I hope it isn't still here, I don't have much magic left.”

Webster crawled around her and looked about as Heather took a cautious step closer. She struggled not to smile as she got closer, silently sending a warning to Webster to pay particular attention to the tree on the left.

“Those poor people,” Heather said as she arrived within a few feet of them. “They were just a level or two lower than me. Maybe I should have stayed with them.”

“You can cut the act,” a voice said from someplace in the trees. “You can’t summon a spider familiar until level ten. You’re obviously trying to bait me out with your little act.”

Heather turned about with a scowl on her face and looked into the trees. “Why don’t you come out and face me,” she asked.

“And give you a chance, I would rather stay hidden and kill you when you least expect it.”

“Fine,” she said with a smile. “I don’t have to be able to see you to hit you.”

She threw out her hand and called in a musical voice as a dark cloud formed over her head. She pointed to the spot behind the big tree, and bees raced out and swarmed the tree.

“A druid of some kind,” the voice said, now sounding like it was behind her. “You don't dress like one. You really should wear armor if your class allows it.”

“I can wear whatever I want!” Heather shouted and pointed in the other direction as she sang, causing the area to choke with thorny vines.

“I am guessing you're a flower singer,” he said with a chuckle. “Not a very combat effective class. You never see one in the arenas, and I don't know of a single adventuring party that has one.”

She spun around as his voice now appeared to be to her left. She was growing frustrated at this game and searched for anything that might give him away. “Why are you killing low-level players?” she asked to stall for time.

“Why not? They are easy to kill and always have a small amount of starting gold. It's usually more profitable to kill players than monsters unless you're going after something big.”

“Couldn’t you pick on somebody your own size?” Heather taunted.

“Why would I do that? Why take a risk I don’t have to. It’s not like they are actually dead, they will respawn in a few hours.”

“It's still rude!” Heather shouted while spinning around.

“Nothing is rude in this world, it's only the ones who have the levels, and the ones who don't. Why would you care anyway? You obviously have a few levels and a charmed spider; you must be killing players too.”

“I care because I protect these forests,” she called back. “My friends and I set them up so low levels could play and earn some experience without jerks like you ruining it.”

“Tsk,” he said. “Another hero with a big heart, thinking she can change the world. You should have picked a forest guardian, or a crusader of you wanted to protect the newbs.”

“Do you see anything?” Heather asked Webster silently over telepathy. He indicated no and kept turning about trying to spot the speaker in the trees. Heather wanted to dip into her necromancy spells and put an end to this game but didn’t want to reveal what she was. She resolved herself to using her flower singer spells only and turned just as Webster screamed a warning in her mind.

Her arms came up and crossed before her, causing a magical shield of leaves to form catching the arrow before it hit her. She saw the general direction it came from and sent a sent swarm of bees racing in that direction to flood the area.

“You’re pretty good,” he said. “You intercepted that arrow like a pro.”

“I am going to turn you into fertilizer like a pro,” Heather threatened.

“You can’t kill what you can’t see,” he laughed as a second arrow raced in from her right. She was slower this time but got the shield up enough to deflect it.

“Are arrows all you have?” Heather asked. She was decidedly unnerved when he didn't respond, and the forest went quiet. She looked all around, determined to spot him, and then suddenly had a burst of inspiration.

“Maybe I can cheat just a little,” she said as she began a soft spell. A moment later, her eyes glowed with undead light, and the shadows around her melted away. She turned and looked about her world of washed-out color and saw a man in all black leaning out from behind a distant tree, a bow leveled her way. Her arms folded over her chest, and the arrow buried in the shield a third time. She dropped the barrier, and he was gone forcing her to look for him again.

“You really are good, but I bet I have more arrows than you have spells,” he said.

She turned in the direction of his voice but saw nothing in the trees. She wondered if maybe he was playing some sort of game and looked over her shoulder to see he was behind her.

“Why would a flower singer throw her life away like this?” he said, sounding as if it was in front of her.

“He can project his voice,” Heather said to herself. “No wonder I am never looking the right way.”

She turned around and tried to appear as if she couldn’t see him, turning her head about but keeping a wary eye on him. She saw him step into a shadow and appear in another a dozen meters away.

“Now that's a handy skill,” Heather said with a nod. “He won't ever be where you think he will.” She had to focus to see the slightly darker spots where the shadows were but smiled as a plan formed.

He drew up his bow, but Heather spun on him and threw her hand out while singing a shrill tune. Three green barbs formed and raced toward him as she cast the thorn spears spell. He fired the arrow in haste going wide as he dived to avoid the thorn spears.

“How did you?” he cried as the nearby shadows came alive with twisting thorny vines.

“Go ahead, step into the shadows,” Heather said as the man drew his sword.

“You’re a bigger pain than your worth,” he said and charged in, both hands on his sword.

Heather nodded to Webster, and they fell back as if in fear, the man snarling as he closed on them. She put a good ten paces between them before turning and taking her flower armor. The man raised his sword as he closed the last few steps, then stumbled and staggered as he stepped in Websters near-invisible trail of webbing.

“How did you command him? You never said a word to it?” the man growled.

“I don’t have to,” Heather replied. “I can use telepathy.”

“What? That thing is a familiar?” he said as his steps became a struggle.

Heather went into another thorn spear and hurled three more bolts at the stumbling man. He ducked under one but was struck in the leg and shoulder by the remaining two.

“Flower singers can't have familiars!” he cried as Heather animated a nearby tree, and it began to beat at the man with its branches.

She smiled and watched as the stranger struggled out of the way, finally getting loose but taking a good battering for his efforts. He looked wobbly as he came back to his feet and raised his sword once more.

“I am going to make it my life’s purpose to kill you again and again.”

“You have no idea how many people want to do that, better get in line,” Heather said her smile wide as she threw her arms open and filled the air with glowing yellow pollen. It swirled about as if in a high wind, turning the landscape into a golden haze that only she could see through.

“You witch!” he cried as he stumbled through the cloud, the pollen stinging his eyes.

“What’s the matter? Can’t kill what you can’t see?” Heather mocked.

He stumbled when her staff struck him across the back and lashed out wildly with his sword. Another blow hit his side, and he charged into the pollen as Heather laughed. She goaded him with quick jabs, leading him back until he stumbled into the path of her animated tree again. He cried out curses as the branches pummeled him, and just as he stepped back, three more barbs hammered into his chest.

Heather felt a mix of emotions from fear to anger to satisfaction as the man fell to his hands and knees. He dropped his sword using one hand to clutch at his chest.

“I will come back for you,” he gasped, unable to lift his head.

“Better bring friends,” Heather said as she looked up to the sky and called down her highest level flower singer spell. Sunstrike blazed down like a laser and left him lying on the forest floor, motionless and with faint wisps of smoke trailing off his body.

She called out a counterspell and ended her bees, pollen, and animated tree effects. As the air cleared, she approached the fallen man with a sense of regret. She never wanted to be like them, but this world didn't care what she wanted. Most of the players only respected strength, and she was determined to be stronger than them all. Still, she regretted killing him until she looked up and saw the bodies of the two others. With a nod, she searched his body and collected his valuables, including ten small pouches of coins he most likely stole from others. She then collected the adventurer's gear and stuffed it in their packs, before taking it all to the village.

She waited in the inn, eating a slice of roast meat until the woman came down the stairs. She looked upset as she paced around the room until a few minutes later, her male counterpart arrived.

Heather approached them both and came up with a story of how she arrived just as the shadowy man was looting their bodies. She slew him and collected their gear then assumed they would be in the inn, so she waited here. She then handed them their packs with all their gold and equipment even though they respawned with new gear. She gave them each an extra bag of gold and encouraged them to keep playing in the forest.

“Thank you,” the woman said. “At least we profited from our own deaths.”

“You're welcome,” Heather said. “I live in the tower beyond the graveyard in the forest. You are welcome to play here all you want, but if you go into the tower or the lower tunnels, it gets harder.”

“Finally, a nice player,” the woman said and turned to her counterpart. “I told you there were some.”

“I knew there were some; I just didn't know where to find them,” he replied.

“I'm Sondra, an evoker,” the woman said and turned to the man. “And this is Thrawn, my Paladin.”

Heather nearly choked when she heard that but maintained control and nodded her head. “I’m Heather, a flower singer. I hope you won’t mind if I warn you now, but people keep coming here to kill me, thinking I am a necromancer. I just don't want you to be alarmed if you run across anybody who does.”

“Why would they think you’re a necromancer?” Thrawn asked.

Heather spun them the story about Frank and the others and how people just assumed without asking.

“Why are so many players in this world so ignorant?” Sondra asked with a frustrated shake of her head. “They look for any excuse to kill another player.”

“It's more profitable,” Thrawn said. “Besides, they drove out all the monster players and don't have any good dungeons to play in anymore.”

“You know about all that?” Heather asked.

The man nodded. “We did a lot of research before coming in. There are dozens of cities now but nothing truly to fight. The lands spawn incidental monsters, but without monster players, nothing worth their time ever happens.”

“They have resorted to area combat to level,” Sondra said. “They spend all day killing one another as if it was perfectly normal. Players who won’t participate are considered outcasts, and killed in the street by some rogue or barbarian claiming he is chaotic evil and playing in character.”

“What made you want to come in if you saw all that going on?” Heather asked.

Sondra smiled and took Thrawn's hand. “We wanted to have a life together that wasn't twelve-hour workdays and constant stress over bills. Since the day we got married, we hadn't truly had time to be a husband and wife.”

“This is our chance to have more than we ever would have in the real world,” Thrawn said. “In the real world, a tiny apartment that cost too much was all we could manage. Here we could own an estate and build a kingdom if we work at it.”

Heather nodded with a smile to know her earlier assumption was right. She hoped for their sake that this world would live up to their dreams and deliver the happiness they wanted.

She bid them farewell and walked back through the forest with Webster following at her feet. What happiness did she want for herself? What dream could she have here that wasn’t possible in the real world? Could she take this a step farther? Could she build a whole kingdom where monster players could build their homes and dungeons? Would players come to adventure and have a good time and not be forced to use the arenas as their sole means of advancement?

Her dream was darkened by the memory that she was a necromancer, and sooner or later, they would be coming. Any action she took now would likely result in drawing too much attention. She needed to grow her power and get ready, the book was a good start, leveling was another, but there was more to this world.

The necromancers stumbled on it before, the links between magic, the way the world worked. Their tiny kingdom took saboteurs and thousands of players to crush because of what they learned. The book painted a picture of so much more, but she would need another six months to read it all, and she needed the books it referenced. She also needed to follow this Hathlisora mystery and locate the other parts of her magical vestments. Of course, tomorrow, she would see some goblins about a dragon she supposedly hid.

One way or another, she was going to make a change, and if the rest of the world didn't like it, that was their problem. One thing still eluded her, though. She needed a way to travel the distance. All she could do was walk, and that took a lot of time. Frank and the other could walk day and night, but she had to sleep, and the bone knight carrying her was uncomfortable after a few hours. As she pondered, that thought she arrived at the graveyard gate and looked out over the stream. The goblins were very good at building things. Already they had a short length of the wooden wall up and four houses.

“Come, Webster,” she said in a happy tone. “I have an idea that I think the goblins can help me with.”