Chapter 1. Angelina

I was walking along the deserted field, with my feet sticking in the thick grass. My thoughts were all jumbled together because of the anger and disappointment I could scarcely restrain.

Why did it turn out like this? Why?

I’ve been preparing this project for a year and a half! Almost two years, even without taking the research time into account. No one has ever studied the language of bone dragons so thoroughly! Now, I can not only write and read in Ashgenrian, but also speak the language a little. What’s more, I’m sure my pronunciation is even better than Professor Gardaren’s! My grandma used to say I acquired the gift of being a linguist at my mother’s knee. Well, I told this to the Professor when I asked him to help me with entering Graduate School. He dared to laugh, when he gave me my diploma (with a C grade) back, and said, “I’m proud of you! Now, you can translate every children’s fairy-story you remember into Ashgenrian. Of course, if you can cope with a fifty thousand-word vocabulary base!”

And he was gone. What a slime he was! What was this injustice for? Couldn’t he at least have done it with good grace! So what if I flunked the theory? But I knew ancient spells perfectly! I could have gotten all A’s! Alas, after failing the exam I couldn’t stand for a good position with my bachelor’s degree in History of Necromancy and my general knowledge base. I hoped to enter Graduate School. Now, as they say, bugger off bachelor!

I cannot even take the curse off – I have no energy. Bad luck. Just no energy. With such abilities, the only thing for me is to study History. Actually, it has been History that I’ve been studying so far. Then, that professor messed up everything.

And now I am a free necromancer.

I kicked a ball of dirt around and sat down on a round warm stone. Then, I stared into the distance in a romantic-philosophical kind of way and sighed.

No, I’m not so good at philosophy. I’m still about to lose my control. It’s lucky that no one sees my failure.

No one went to the Ash Field for a walk. This place was believed to be ill-fated. It was a place where people went to be alone for some time to think what to do next.

I had neither enough money for living on my own nor my own.

I plucked a couple of dandelions and weaved them into a wreath. Then, I found some sticks of equal length and inserted them between the flowers. What a funny yellow crown I got. I put it onto my head and smiled.

“Am I not a queen necromancer? No, better be the Queen of the Dead. Why not be the Queen of the Dead?”

Somewhere on the side, I heard a loud “croak” sound.

I turned my head and noticed a huge frog nearby examining me. It seemed to me that it had even climbed onto the nearest boulder, to see me better.

“Well, am I looking silly?” I asked the frog. “Surely you want to say that there aren’t any Queens of the Dead? Well, nowadays, you can’t even bring a cat back from the other world. Don’t you know it was different seven hundred years ago? It was then that Reive Eridanus Castro-Firel was born. The man who raised whole troops of sorcerers!”

The frog continued watching me attentively. Now and then it made sounds, as if it was agreeing with me. It was pleasant for me to imagine that we were having a dialogue, and I was not alone there talking to myself and sitting on a warm stone.

I jumped down from my ‘podium’ and began to pace the soft grass, and carried on with my story.

“There was a mighty necromancer who had a bone dragon as a pet. Do you understand – a dragon! The very dragon whose language I’ve been learning with such difficulty! Reive had managed to conquer half the world before he was stopped.”

I spread my arms wide and began to do a little dance.

“What’s more, he could play the Nocturne of Death. Do you know what that is? It’s a legend, a real legend. A marvelous melody, both dreadful and beautiful. A mesmerizing melody. At its sound, souls begin coming to life and dancing, obeying the mage’s will. The melody is said to be terribly beautiful. It’s a pity that the Nocturne’s notes have been lost. I’d love to listen to the melody able to make dead souls dance!”

I stopped dancing, breathing hard.

“At our Academy, we even had a tradition: to try to play the Nocturne of Death at the end of every school year. But, as you already know, no one has managed to do this so far. The deceased do not answer back. The dark forces’ music – it’s not like when you catch gnats!”

The frog croaked loudly, hopped away and hid in the thick grass.

“What do you know of this?!” I gave a wave of the hand and flopped down onto the grass.

However, it wasn’t as soft as it had seemed to me. I shrieked with surprise and rolled to one side. It felt as if I’d been unlucky enough to land on a sharp stone.

I moved the sedge stems apart and then saw a large segment of a stone slab. It didn’t look like a normal boulder. A regular rectangular shape, marked by the lapse of time, told me it was a monument.

I became curious and began digging the soft ground and, clearing the level surface I saw it had some letters written on it. The more I dug, the more I felt curiosity and a naive joy. I recognized letters written in the Ashgenrian language!

A little later, I had the whole tombstone in front of me. The ancient text was quite readable! Time and weathering hadn’t affected the letters.

A burning desire took hold of me. I sat beside my find and shook the soil from my hands. I read the text, convincing myself that I could easily read it, and at once began to put theory into practice. Not in vain had I been studying pronunciation!

Dfiera re fjynde sjfndalie dornoren,

Siantar releviont transier goren vald,

Usjera dafn sarhgerte yortonjer reido,

Salvego — gortento irontar jon… ##1

##1 Night will unveil the benighted eyes,

      Twilight will put everything into place.

           The sun will always set in grime     

And it will rise in bloody colors. (Ashg.)

Having read the last line, I almost clapped my hands – I had managed to read the text so well! At this moment, I wanted Professor Gardaren to see my success, at least, for a second. How easily I read the unknown text! In the whole Ihordarrine, there could be hardly anyone who could do what I had just done!

Suddenly, something terrible happened, and all desire to boast of my success disappeared.

The earth began to quake. I was in trouble. I could hardly crawl away. I huddled against a huge boulder, balls of soil flying outwards as if from a small explosion.

What did we study on the extinct languages course? I began to remember frantically. No one is allowed to read unknown inscriptions aloud? Now I know why. I stuttered nervously.

A man appeared in front of me. He was tall, gloomy, and covered in soil from head to toe. I couldn’t examine him properly. I could only see his black mantle and tangled hair fallen over his face. He was staring at me.

The sky turned black. It felt as if the sun hadn’t been shining above our heads. The stranger’s eyes were blazing blood red. Black terror gripped me.

In a second, he was there, near me, and grabbed me by the throat, with me huddling on the hot stone.

The air emptied from my lungs.

The only thought that came into my head was, The professor did the right thing to have given me a C grade for my graduation dissertation! Absolutely right thing to do!