MORTIMER

 

I fell into a hole.

I know, stellar move there. I was such a graceful individual. So graceful that I’d not only fallen into a hole, but I managed to sprain my ankle. Hopefully. I couldn’t tell for sure, but based on how painful it was, and how I could literally put no weight on the joint, I was betting it was broken. Only a fool would fall into a hole and break his ankle and thus remove any hope he had of getting out of said hole.

“Help!? Anyone up there?” I called out again for what seemed like the hundredth time. The sun had gradually been crawling along the sky so I knew I had to have been here for some hours, thank the living dead that night hadn’t fallen yet.

Alas, with no sign of passers-by or any fellow travelers that might take a moment of their day to aid me, I might have to think about this pit with its dirt and worms as my bed for the night.

And hope no wolves come for a snack.

Perhaps I should have stayed home and done as I was told. Those fairy tale stories made running away from a great destiny seem simple, and easy. I guessed reality must ever grind down on the mortals of the world to remind them they are but prisoners to fate on its plane of existence.

“Please! Someone! Anyone–help!” I cried again, despair thick in my voice. No one would hear me; what was the point? I was about to slump back against the dirt walls of my pit when a shadow danced along the side–and did the wind rustle the grass? Or was that the stepping of light feet? I eagerly pressed myself up against the side of the hole where I saw the shadow milling about. “Hey! Hey down here! Please help me!”

My hopes were dashed when two furry ears and a face of white whiskers greeted me. The accompanying ‘Maow’ crushed my heart.

“Oh, hello, adorable.'' The cat was striped, black and white contrasting in defined lines across its face. The white whiskers wiggled as it ‘maow’ed’ down at me again, and I smiled despite my despair.

Cats always had an affinity for death and those of us who worked with it.

“Hey, sweetie—do you have a master? Hm? Someone who can pull me out of this pit? Anyone nearby to hear your small meows?”

“Maow!” the critter called down while its striped tail swayed behind it.

I sighed, “No, I suppose you don’t…”

The cat gave a trill and wandered away. My shoulders slumped as I took in my earthy prison. I guess I’d better make myself comfortable for the night, and try to find a stick or something as a weapon… Maybe one of the tree roots was hard enough to use as a blunt force weapon…

While I was hopping over to the other side of my dirty sanctuary the cadence of someone yelling echoed down the pit. Faint—but most assuredly a human’s voice.

Oh, praise the Dead!

“Hello! Over here! Please help me!” I bellowed, attempting to make my voice go as far as possible.

“Blasted pet–what are you doing? Stop tripping me!” Did the cat find help? Was that something a cat could do?

Not possible. But despite possibilities and probabilities, a petite black and white striped head with whiskers and big fluffy ears popped up again and gave me a friendly “Maow,” while its tail swished. I smirked, awkwardly because now I heard heavier, human footsteps approaching. And while that should spell my freedom from this forsaken hole, it meant interacting with another person.

I wanted out of this pit, of course, but my social graces were rusty to say the least. The mere idea of speaking and interacting with another person was a daunting task now. Hopefully it was some old man who would offer me a ride in the back of his potato wagon so that we didn’t have to speak so much while he took me to the nearest town…

The figure that appeared beside the striped kitty was not that of an old man. Oh no, I would never be that lucky. No, my fate was cruel and instead of some crotchety old man with beady, pale grey eyes and scruff for hair, a pair of golden-brown eyes met mine, a solid frame, square jawline. Skin that had been kissed by a thousand suns, thick, dark hair…and a furrow formed between two fine eyebrows as he startled at seeing someone very much alive in this hole.

Well, as alive as you could be when you were the young prince of the Necromancer royal family from the Gravelands. I was the heir to the deathly throne in my kingdom. But every fiber of my being rejected the idea of this throne. I didn’t want to be locked up in the castle and never feel the sunshine on my face. Live a half-life behind its cold stone walls. Never to move from that icy existence. Mother never understood why I craved the sun or why I would ever want to leave home. My father was even less tolerant of my desire to explore the world, have an adventure or two before I became ruler of the Dead Magic. Which I wasn’t going to; I had no desire to lead. The crown was powerful. Everything a prince wanted, but I didn’t seek it. I only wanted to follow my heart. Was it weird for a Necromancer prince to say such a thing?

Alas, my heart had led me right into this pit. But technicalities aside, I was young, inspired to bring change to my kingdom, but seeing this fine specimen of what normal people look like, I was feeling maybe a teeny bit nervous about my heart’s quest. My skin was deathly pale, and my ink black hair certainly did nothing to improve my complexion. Thin, dorkish, dressed in mostly black save the blood red belt and boots I had on…I more than likely appeared to be a goblin to him until he squinted at me. A frail one, with a stupid nose.

“You need a hand, stranger?” he called down, settling his hands on his hips that his tunic and chainmail armor hugged. By Death, he was a work of art!

“I— Yes, I surely do. I fell into this pit, and I think my ankle is sprained. I cannot reach the top, and I fear I will die down here if I cannot get out before nightfall. The worms will be looking for a snack sooner than later.” I winced and rubbed the back of my neck, the image of my death was grotesque, even for a Necromancer.

He stared at me for a long moment and then grunted and shook his head. “Tis nothing to fear in the darkness–maybe some wolves and bears,” he said, but he left the hole’s edge, and I heard him puttering through a pack. Possibly looking for a rope?

“That’s what I fear will find me.”

I hoped he had a rope.

Was I even capable of holding onto a rope while he dragged me out? That was the only way out of this. Surely he was not so tall as to reach down and make me take his hands. His large, warm hands. They would burn my skin with the heat of life in his blood.

It was not like summoning a skeleton army and having them stack themselves into stairs for me was an option. I might be a Necromancer, but bone-crafting was never my strong suit.

“I’ll toss a rope down. Do you think you can use your good foot to push yourself up while I drag you?” The handsome, golden stranger grinned down at me, taking in my weak looking arms and knobby self.

“Er, yes! I believe I can do that. Thank you.” I started to crawl my way up onto my good leg to catch the rope from my savior.

The black and white kitty mewled at me and rubbed against its master’s legs while he tied a firm knot at the end of the rope before tossing it down. It hit me in the face, but I managed to recover and got a grasp on the woven threads, making sure to keep the knotted end handy in case I slipped.

“All right, stranger, on three. One…Two–” I prepared myself for the jolt coming soon but didn’t expect to be lifted right off my feet with a mighty yank from those delectable arm muscles.

“Ah Umphh!” I blurted, ever the picture of serenity and eloquence. The rope slipped slightly in my grip, but I held on tightly, wincing as I was hauled and dragged out of the deep hole that must have been about twenty feet deep. My savior grunted above me and reminded me that I was supposed to be helping. I dug my good foot into the dirt and pushed myself upward.

With a few coordinated pushing and pulling efforts, my hands touched supple green grass again. I nearly cried with relief, and in my excitement, I almost fell in again. If it wasn’t for my sun-kissed savior, I would have tumbled back down, but his dark, warm hand snatched the back of my cloak and dragged me out the rest of the way.

I was laughing with relief as I scooted away from the pit; my ankle burned in pain, but I was out of the hole. The sun was setting, but I wasn’t going to be stuck down there in the dark all alone!

“Oh, thank you, thank you so much. You cannot believe how much this means to me. I promise you I will find some way to pay you for your kindness, er, sir?”

The man looped the rope back around his arm and gave me a small nod. “Call me Galen. Galen Starr”

“Galen, yes, thank you so much, Galen. I’m so thankful. Oh, hello, kitty.” The striped cat announced itself to me with a purring meow. It then proceeded to crawl into my lap, demanding my attention and butting its head into my hands. When I started to pet it, the purr became thunderous and made me jump a bit from the volume such a small creature achieved. Galen snorted above me. My eyes wandered up from the happy cat in my lap.

“Ah, sorry. Is this yours?”

Galen’s dark eyes rolled. “Well, she was, but it seems she has a new love in her life.”

I blushed and ducked my head. “I’m sorry. She climbed into my lap, and I went ahead and pet her.” I lifted my shoulders upward a bit and rubbed her tiny chin. “What’s her name?”

“You don’t have to apologize; she knows a good person when she sees one. Her name is Perdita, and I’m glad she found you so that we got you out of that pit. Now here. Let me see your ankle.” My handsome rescuer knelt next to me and lifted my left leg. It throbbed painfully, causing me to wince as he moved leg to examine it.

Thank Death I was wearing breeches. The Living Dead only knew what he’d have seen if I was in my regular princely garb, even with the excruciating pain in my ankle. I didn’t have a chance. Galen was so handsome! He took a moment to diagnose my pathetic foot, carefully easing my boot off to get a closer look.

“Broken.”

Perfect.

I wilted a bit and stroked the kitty’s chin. “Blast,” I muttered under my breath. “I was afraid of that.”

My savior got out a few other things from his satchel and started to prepare some sort of green concoction.

“What are you doing, Galen?”

“Hm? Well, I’m going to fix your ankle if you’re all right with that?”

“Er… Y-yes of course, but you don’t even know my name.”

Galen pondered that fact for a moment, his dark eyes playful in the late afternoon sun when he turned back to me and gave me a wink. “Well, if you want to tell me your name, I would be happy to hear it. Shall I serve you dinner before I heal your broken bones, too?”

I flushed hotly. “N-no that’s not necessary.” I took a moment to compose myself. “My name is Mortimer. Thank you for your help. I didn’t expect you to be so resourceful.”

Galen chuckled at my sputtering and handed me the green slimy leaf concoction in a dark wood cup. “I’m a Cleric. Healing is my specialty. Drink it down now. All of it.”

A Cleric. Oh, this was perfect. The one class of people who stood for life and light against the darkness and death. The overlords of the waking, sun-filled world. Guardians of justice and the common heroes of the centuries. Sworn enemies of the Necromancers. The warriors who had backed my great-grandfather and his followers into the Gravelands, where we have stayed in exile. My father said it was best this way, the land of the living couldn’t understand the dead, and it was a waste to argue otherwise.

The dead were always hungry; they desired more than we had to offer them.

More than I had to offer them.

I’d run from that future, straight into the hands of a man who would sooner run me through with his blade than care for me. If he figured out what, and who, I was.

I stared at him, and then at the drink. “You must be joking.”

“I’m serious. Drink it. Bones don’t heal by magic alone, you know.”

“This isn’t a drink.” I brought it to my nose and sniffed. The smell alone burned my nose hairs. “It’s root rot disguised as salad!”

“Root rot would be black and white. Drink it, Mortimer, or Perdita won’t sit in your lap anymore.”

I frowned at Galen and stroked Perdita’s soft ears. Sighing, I pinched my nose and half chewed, half drank down the green death.

I gagged and covered my mouth for good measure while Galen began to chant, putting his warm hands over my ankle, my skin and body instantly heating up from a simple touch. Phew. Suddenly it was hot despite the sun setting. I fanned myself as he worked; I prayed that my breeches and tunic hid my erection well enough.

Too soon, his hands slipped away, the heat subsiding as he started to wrap my ankle in some sort of linen.

“Is it better?” I tried to flex my foot, but got a jolt of pain and agony for my efforts.

“It will be by morning as long as you don’t wiggle it around too much. Hold still.”

I did, not having to be told twice. Galen wrapped my ankle firmly, not too tight, but enough to keep it immobilized. Putting my boot back on was out of the question, as was walking. I sighed; why did I leave home?

Galen puzzled through my predicament as well, because he stood up and started to rearrange his packs on the horse that was casually grazing about behind me.

“I uhm…had a satchel, but I lost it while I was running from the bandits on the road who tried to attack me. They got my sword too. Ah…that’s when I fell into the pit.” I gestured toward my wormy prison. Galen must have thought I was dumber than an undead chicken.

“The bandits along this road are cutthroat. Didn’t anyone tell you so?”

“No, not directly,” I admitted sheepishly, surely my father would have told me to keep my guard up had he known I was embarking on a journey beyond the Gravelands. “I guess I should be thankful they didn’t realize I fell into that hole.”

“You should be thankful they didn’t kill you and loot your body.”

“Er, yes. That too.” I stroked Perdita’s beautiful striped coat. She had white paws, too; they were like mittens with her black and white stripes. How stupid of me. Go on an adventure, I proclaimed, follow my heart, and feel the sun on my face, and not think about the icy throne awaiting my return, trapping me in the land of death.

A hand appeared in my line of sight, the warmth from Galen’s body nearly enchanting me and pulling me into it.

“You can ride with me to the next town, Horkshire. I’m sure you can buy some new supplies there and get back on your feet.”

I should have politely declined. Riding behind someone so alive, so handsome and attractive, for the rest of the day and into the night? Stupid idea. He’d never forgive himself for healing a Necromancer.

Necromancers didn’t deserve kindness.

I took his kindness anyway, and slipped my pale fingers into his warm, dark hand and allowed him to help me to my feet. Perdita pranced her way over to the horse, meowing at me while Galen helped me walk over to the mount. With a tiny amount of effort on his part, and a lot of whimpering on mine, he helped me up onto his steed and then climbed up in front of me.

“Hold on now, Mortimer. I won’t have all my good work undone by you falling off my horse and accidentally breaking your leg.” I tucked myself in close, smiling good-naturedly as my body reacted to the heat of his body. Death, please let the chainmail and my breeches disguise my hardness.

“I’ll try not to ruin your work, Galen.” Perdita hopped up and tucked herself into Galen’s lap behind the horn. What a cute caravan we were.

I smiled and tucked my boot into one of Galen’s satchels, “All right then, To Horkshire!”

*

We stopped for the night about a half a day’s ride from Horkshire, and set up a camp a tiny way from the road to avoid the bandits. Galen made a fire and dinner, and now we were settled on a mat with a blanket he brought along and my cloak for warmth. Perdita snuggled up on our hips.

Naturally, we were back-to-back, to keep things from being awkward. I mean he’d pulled me out of a pit like a knight in shining armor, but we did meet a few hours ago.

It was nice of him to cook dinner and share his bedroll with me. He was far too nice of a person. He wouldn’t be nearly so giving if he learned I was a Necromancer. Memories of our conversation while we rode along played through my head while I tried to find sleep.

*

“So, Mortimer, where do you hail from?”

I had to think fast, yet another situation I was ill prepared for after running away from the Gravelands. How to explain my pallid complexion to these creatures of sunlight? “Ahh. I’m from a small village in the mountain region! It’s usually cold and snowy there, this sunshine is incredible!” At least that last part wasn’t a lie. The sunlight was incredible, especially the way it warmed my skin.

I loved it.

“You are a long way from home, my friend.”

“I am.” The words stung with the truth under the lie.

His face must have knotted with confusion because I heard it in his voice. “…Funny, I was under the impression the mountain kingdom was led by a Matriarchy and they would sooner throw a male baby off a cliff than raise it.”

I paled, utterly mortified at the idea, and my poor lie. “They ah–they do, but uhm s-some of us are kept for um…proliferation’s sake.” I stammered and prayed for Death to take me right then and there.

“I suppose that makes sense. How else would their kingdom thrive if it weren’t for some participation from men?”

“Exactly!” Phew, that was close. I shifted the topic. “And where do you hail from, Galen? You and Perdita?”

“I’m from Tristine, up north. I went to become a knight for the king and discovered I had an affinity for healing magic. I’ve been a Cleric ever since.”

I echoed his earlier comment, “You’re a long way from home, my friend. What brings you this way?”

“Death.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“We’ve seen reports of the lands to the south struggling with various skirmishes by skeletons, ghosts, and death. The Necromancers might be the cause, and I was sent down here to investigate. If it is true, we need to rally our forces against the army of darkness again.”

I swallowed harshly and cleared my throat, doing my best to not fall off the horse as Galen was talking about my kingdom, and my people. People I had denied and left behind, but still my people.

“The Necromancers? Planning to invade again?” The living blamed the dead for many things, but the last uprising had been centuries ago. I should know, I studied it.

Galen nodded. “It’s only rumors and hearsay for now. But my masters are concerned; they sense a darkness growing stronger in this land.”

“What will you do?”

“Gather my evidence and report back to my leader of course.”

“But what if death or something dead comes for you?”

“Then I’ll give it Final Death.”

*

I drifted off to sleep after stroking Perdita’s soft, striped fur for a while. I let her purrs ease my anxieties and recalled Galen pulling me out of my pit instead. A small smile graced my face when I reminded myself that despite my faults so far, I was having an adventure. I was doing what I’d set out to do. I was proving my family wrong. The idea melted my heart and sent me right to sleep.

Unfortunately, we were not allowed to sleep through the night. Well, I shouldn’t say it that way. I was sleeping perfectly fine with Perdita tucked around my midsection keeping me warm and cozy. Galen startled awake and jostled the cat enough that she whined with her discomfort, and I joined her when that warm back slipped away from mine.

“Mmngg not morni—” Galen’s hand closed around my mouth, and he shushed into my ear. That brought me to full consciousness as I reached up and clung to his warm arm while he muffled my voice.

“Quiet. Bandits.” He spoke harshly, in a tone both quiet and commanding. I nodded, and he let me go—the cool night air was even colder against the skin where his hand had been. Galen got up, located his sword. The soft zing of metal slipping against its sheath filled the air around us. I was useless in this situation, with my powers over the dead being all I had to defend myself with. Which there was no way to use, lest I risk my beautiful Cleric savior finding out what, and who, I was.

I turned as quietly as I could to face Galen; Perdita retreated to the horse. I guessed she’d been through this before. No one spoke or moved a muscle while Galen scanned the perimeter of our camp. He’d put the fire out last night to keep any bandits from spotting us, so it was pitch dark. The light from the crescent moon was all we had to illuminate the world around us.

I didn’t hear it at first, but there was a rustle to our left. Galen snapped in that direction, but soon after he started silently creeping in that direction, I startled at a similar rustle behind us. This time, it was accompanied by a groan. It was old, and weary. As if the person hadn’t spoken in centuries and was trying to form words with stiff lips and a hell of a dry mouth.

The remaining warmth in my body drained out. I recognized it.

“It’s not bandits,” I said in a rushed whisper.

“Mortimer, shh!”

“It’s zombies. Galen. There are zombies around us” I sat up and reached back for Galen. “But how are they so far from the Gravelands?”

“The dead have been creeping their way across this land for weeks now, Mortimer. But I refuse to believe that the undead are right here.” He took my hand and lifted me to my feet. My ankle was still weak, but I moved it without screaming in agony.

“Well, you better believe it because I’d know that groan anywhere,” I muttered, pushing my ink black hair out of my face as I tried to use my ghost vision to track them.

The problem with zombies was that while they were considered undead and, thus, belonged to the Necromancer’s world, they weren’t under our control. The flesh clung to them, and as long as they had some measure of that left, they’d never be our devoted servants.

But it didn’t stop them from wanting the same thing Necromancers did–death and silence. Peace. The permanent kind of peace.

I cursed under my breath. There was another moan; the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. “Did you hear that? They’re getting closer.” Galen seemed to consider my arguments because a moment later his back was pressed against mine.

“What do we do?”

“Don’t get bitten. Their bite is infectious, and you’ll become one of them,” he spoke in a rush. I snorted.

“Other than that?”

“I’ve never tried to mass heal zombies. I have doubts it would work.” Another groan, from much closer this time, made us both jump and back away from the thicket the bedroll was next to.

“Zombies don’t want healing; they want to consume the living.” Galen gave me an odd look, but I paid it no mind as I wracked my brain for a solution. Before I formulated a plan, they clawed up out of the ground and surrounded us. Hideous masses of flesh slowly falling away and rotting right off their bones, some of them had no eyes; others had no legs as they dragged themselves across the thicket to reach us. The stench of death filled the air and made Galen gag; meanwhile, the noxious odor reminded me of home.

Galen’s sword clashed with the zombies, slicing limbs and bones while he kept me sheltered behind him. I sorely wished for the sword I had lost before my fall, a club, or a bow and quiver. Anything to feel less like a pathetic waste of space.

Wait. There was something. If it worked.

Not all of my magic was specifically death-oriented. Normal wizards knew frost magic, right? I clutched Galen’s tunic tightly when he conjured some spell of holy light over our camp. I shuddered beneath its purity, though not as badly as the zombies did. They all erupted in cries and shattered screams of agony under the bright light.

“That’s a bit more like it.” Galen stepped forward and started to slice them down as quickly as possible. There were at least five limbs wandering about. One was kicking the horse’s hoof, as if that would bring the creature closer to their zombie’s mouth? I yelped when one disembodied hand grabbed my ankle and yanked me down to the ground.

“Blast it all!” I growled. I was over this attack. I pushed my fingers into the dirt, and with a few softly spoken words and some Necromantic intent, I pushed my power into it and froze the dying flesh of the zombies surrounding us.

Galen shivered but resisted the death frost, no doubt due to the fact his healing grace and faith were so very strong and rooted in life. “What? You’re a wizard, Mortimer!?”

“I’ll explain later. Cut off their heads before I lose the spell!” I stared up at him through my curtain of black hair; he gave me a funny look but followed my directions. Going over to each zombie and removing its head from the body and tossing the heads as far into the woods as possible.

Good idea right there. What a smart man. I appreciated that there was a reason why I was infatuated with this man.

Six zombie heads lobbed off into the forest, and then he cut off their legs or arms for good measure! I was sweating lightly when I deemed it finished enough for our purposes and let go of the death frost.

I pulled my fingers out of the dirt and shivered, sitting up and rubbing my hands to get rid of the icy touch of death. Galen came over and knelt beside me. He was full of warmth, vitality, and goodness.

“Are you all right? You didn’t tell me you had magic.” He pushed my hair from my face. I nodded and smiled sheepishly at him.

“I’m not a good wizard—I’ve only mastered a few spells, you see. Can’t even manage a flying spell. Can you believe it? If only I had managed that one, I wouldn’t have been stuck in that pit!” I babbled nervously, trying to cover my secret with another lie.

“I didn’t want to tell you because I’m nothing more than a parlor trick.” I rubbed my arm with one hand, looking down at the dead brown grass where my hands had been. Galen’s hand slipped over my shoulder.

“Your parlor trick saved our lives.” My black heart skipped a beat as he leaned in closer. Was he—surely not!

“You saved my life first…” I said softly. It would have been perfect, so perfectly romantic. But a second later, I yelped when a zombie hand started yanking on my leg again. “Curses! Get off of me.” I gripped the dead forearm and pulled against the bone’s tight grip. “Get off. Get off!”

Galen’s hand jerked and crushed the digits of the zombie’s hand and flung it off into the forest behind him. So much for the romantic mood. I sighed and brushed off the dead skin from my ankle.

“S-sorry, I forgot it was there.” Galen chuckled and patted my shoulder. “Well, we might as well get moving. The sun will be up in about an hour. We can get a head start.”

I whimpered lightly. All I wanted to do was go back to sleep with his warm arms around me and his lips pressed against mine. Apparently, people were too grossed out to go back to sleep in the same area that they suffered a zombie attack in. Oh well. I nodded and climbed to both feet with a hand from Galen.

“How's your ankle?”

“Far better than it was. Still a bit weak, but I can walk.”

Galen scrutinized me as I went over and started rolling up the bed mat. “I’ll make you some more tonic.”

It was my turn to groan. “The vile muddy concoction? Again? I’d sooner be bitten by a zombie.”

*

He made me drink the putrid tincture before he allowed me to get on the horse. Granted, the feel of his healing magic in my veins was an excellent incentive to finish his horrid mixture. But if I had any hope of kissing him sweetly after our assault, they were crushed beneath the fear of my kiss tasting like that corruption he called tonic.

We left soon afterward, continuing on to Horkshire. Perdita had hightailed it into a tree when the zombies started to come out. Thankfully, she was unharmed, though shaken after so much rotting flesh around her.

While Perdita was nestled across my lap, I sat in front of Galen this time as the horse trotted along the path once more. The tonic had a sleepy effect on me this time around, and he admitted he wasn’t sure he trusted my ability to hang on while seated behind him. And please, as if I was offended to have his warm chest pressed flush to my back.

I only hoped he didn’t look down past Perdita’s fluffy petite form and get a glimpse the stiffness in my breeches. Death, how was I going to operate like this if Galen’s mere presence kept having such a rousing effect on my cold person?

Around noon, we crossed the threshold into Horkshire, civilization being a welcomed sight after our close encounter with the near dead. My ankle was mostly healed by the time Galen helped me down off of his horse, who I learned was called Eirny.

Galen got us two rooms at the inn, while I went to get a restock of the supplies I had lost. Sadly, a sword was not within my limited budget. However, at least I didn’t have to worry about whether or not I had fire magic, or if I had food to eat on the road, and I had a neat satchel to put it all in.

We shared a meal at the inn that night, and to my pleasant surprise, Galen enjoyed my company, even if I stuck out like a sore thumb among the living folk. I was so pale, so frail compared to these healthy, tanned men who worked the fields and fought with swords and spears.

Not that I didn’t know how to fight with a sword—it was the first step in learning how to master bone magic—but weapons made in the Gravelands were intrinsically different. Our weapons weren’t forged in fire; they were etched from ice.

Not that it mattered now.

“So, Galen, where will you go after Horkshire?” I asked, stirring my rump roast in the bowl. It was delicious, and I had eaten half of it in earnest, but now my gusto for food was halted. After tonight, there’d be no reason for me and Galen to spend more time together. Which made me utterly sad. Because I adored him. Every fiber of his warm, living being.

He drank down more ale. “I’m going to Oaksdale. They’ve been having problems down there. Not unlike the problem we had last night.”

I paused and leaned forward. “The dead are rising in Oaksdale?” I whispered softly. “How? Why?” My heart drifted further down into my belly. I'd walked through Oaksdale four days ago. “That’s a long journey from here.”

“We don’t know, but I’ve been sent to investigate. The Necromancers seem quiet, but their twisted, ugly hands can reach far with their disgusting powers.” He glared at his roast and used the bread to slop up some of the juices and tore off the dripping, saturated grain. “Those abominations should have been taken care of decades ago. I can’t imagine why any good person would have let them parade around this world.”

I winced and shook my head lightly. “Well… It might be worse without them, right? At least they keep the dead things in their land, and understand the balance of life so that yo—er—we don’t have to think about it?”

Galen scoffed. “Two Necromancers can do that job, no need to let them have a whole city.” My chest fell.

“Life and Death should exist in a balance,” I offered weakly.

Galen shook his head. “Necromancers don’t respect balance.”

What was I doing? Fantasizing about a man who hated what I was, hated everything I represented. He didn’t know I was the Necromancer Prince, but I was sure the moment he found out the truth he’d wash himself of me and forget I ever existed. Forget he ever ran his fingers over my skin.

And I would be alone again. Aching with heart sickness while my body allowed Death’s icy grip to take over, bit by bit. Reminding me that no one would save me from my fate. All I was doing was running from it, resisting it for a month, maybe two. I was a fool.

I stirred my roast a bit more. “Promise me you’ll take care of yourself, then?” I mustered up a smile for my handsome, sun-kissed heartthrob, praying that he would stop talking about what he understood to be true about Necromancers.

I was the worst. How could I keep lying to him? He didn’t even know there was a Necromancer sitting right across from him.

He reached over to pat my forearm. “I promise. We shall keep in touch, my friend.” He finished his mug of ale and then nodded to the stairs. “We’ve had a long day. I’m going to turn in early.”

I nodded, trying to numb myself to the feeling of loss I would have come morning. He got up from the bench and started to make his way past me.

My hand darted out as an automatic reflex and gripped his sleeve. “Galen–”

“Mortimer?”

“I… Um. I’ll miss you a lot. Please say goodbye before you leave tomorrow?”

Galen’s golden-brown eyes stared into mine for a long moment before he smiled lightly and nodded. “I wouldn’t dream of leaving without saying goodbye, Mortimer.”

“Okay. Good. Goodnight, then, Galen.”

“Goodnight, Mortimer.”

*

I didn’t sleep. Not much anyway. I spent the night in a cold bed. Tomorrow, I'd be all alone again. Galen had his mission, and even if I was desperate to stay by his side, it was better this way.

He and I did not belong together. We were antipodal and frankly, should be enemies. I should be Galen’s worst nightmare. If he had known I was the Necromancer Prince? None of this would have happened, and he would have left me for dead in that pit.

At the moment, I was having a hard time imagining that would have been the less painful option. My chest ached as if it was being torn in two with my heart full of misery. I rubbed along my sternum and cried for my pathetic budding feelings. Galen would never love me. How stupid was I? It was best this way. He would leave in the morning and never ever find out what I was.

He would remember the lie, the made-up Mortimer and not learn the ugly truth I carried in my soul. I was Mortimer, some pale-faced magician from the mountains who, in one way or another, survived being male.

I wasn’t the Prince of Death, or the Summoner of Bones. I wasn’t a walking corpse.

I would never see him again, but at least I had the memories from the few days we had spent together. I really was pathetic. Falling for the first man who helped me out of a pit of my own design. I just had to put Galen out of my mind. I was fine without him. I’d be fine after he left. This changed nothing; I would continue my own journey for as long as possible. For the rest of my life, hopefully.

I dozed in and out of sorrow-filled sleep, feeling sorry for myself. I observed the first rays of dawn start to climb across the eastern sky. Brightening the world with pale blues, yellows, and pinks. I sat up, giving up on sleep because soon enough there’d be a knock on my door. As if my anxieties summoned it, a knock resonated through my room. I sighed heavily and wiped my face clean of any tear tracks that might be present. It was going to be okay; this was going to hurt a bit, like how a vampire felt when a stake was driven through its chest.

I walked to the door and pulled it open, rubbing my eyes in the hopes that Galen would think they were red from waking up. Perdita purred and leapt into my arms.

“Morni—Ah! Perdita!” My lips turned upward despite my sorrow, and I happily hugged the fuzzy critter and pet her soft coat. “Oh, silly girl, I’m going to miss you too.”

Galen stood before me, packed up and prepared to leave, but he was clearly nervous. His brown eyes wouldn’t meet mine.

“Morning to you, too, Galen.”

“Good morning.” His voice was scratchy. Despite being all packed up, he must not have found his way down to the tavern for a cup of morning tea yet.

“On your way then?” I saw him tip his head in the affirmative. I nodded after and gazed at Perdita, who tipped her head up to butt at my chin for pets as she purred deeply and covered my black tunic in her black and white fur.

Was it only me or was Galen upset? Was he unhappy about going our separate ways like I was? Oh, Death’s decaying right hand, that was nonsense. Because he was talkative yesterday didn’t mean a thing. We’d known each other for two days and suddenly my heart thought I was an expert at reading the righteous Cleric fighter? Not only that, but my tiny black heart had fallen in love with that Cleric.

The lack of sleep was getting to me. I would have to pay the innkeeper for another night to hopefully regain my sanity before I skipped town.

“It’s been a pleasure to travel with you, Galen.” I shifted from foot to foot. The silence was growing awkward. “I–” I cut myself off. I refused to say how much I would miss him. He didn’t need to know or be burdened by my foolish heart. I didn’t need the reminder of how lost I’d be without him.

“Mortimer, I–” he started. I stared at his handsome face while stroking Perdita’s ears. His eyes were darker than normal, emotions threatening to show themselves swirling through the rich brown pigments.

“I know. I’ll miss you–”

“Come with me.”

“T-too? Wait–did you ask me to–?”

“Come with me. We work well together, and Perdita loves you. She won’t accept it if you don't come along. She’d try to find you. And go hungry.”

I grinned slowly, attempting to contain my burst of joy and excitement. The small voice telling me that this was a horrible idea, this would only hurt worse once Galen found out, was squashed under the swell of my happiness. My heart had lifted too much, my hopes and dreams exploding with new possibilities because I had the chance to steal away more time with Galen.

My Galen, my handsome fighter who shined bright with the fire of the sun.

“We can’t have Perdita going hungry.” I felt a tug at my lips as I stepped closer to Galen, soaking in his warmth from the small distance between us. His Adam's apple bobbed as he gave me a slow smile in return.

“And I would be absolutely lonely without you. I know it’s only been at most a day and some hours.” Galen’s voice trailed off, blinking down at me as he observed the distance between us had disappeared.

“I would be lonely too. I understand how you feel, Galen. Never fear. I would love to travel with you.” My grin might split my face, my happiness was so great. He’d get too close, but it didn’t matter. He’d discover my true identity, and the knowledge of my title would wound him deeply. All I cared about was winning a few more days from the icy hands of Fate.

Galen took a final, cautious step closer to me, closing the mere inches of space between us. His chest pressed up against mine. My heart started pounding from its deadly cavern in my chest.

“Galen?” Two strong, calloused fingers tipped my chin up, and the next thing I was aware of was that my handsome ray of sunshine was kissing me.

His lips were warm, tender, and full against mine. I didn’t realize how much my heart yearned for him until I had him this close. My arms crept up his shoulders and clung to him while he kissed me on the threshold. Perdita yowled and climbed up to my shoulders to cling on tightly there. I was vaguely aware of cat claws in my pale skin. So many dreams were dashed by how good reality was, and I would never, ever, be able to give him up.

Even when the time came and he discovered the truth about me and rejected me, my heart would beat for him. I was damning my existence with this kiss, and I couldn’t bring myself to feel remorse. All I felt was Galen’s warmth, and the passion in his kiss. His hands settled on my hips, and he took a step into my room, backing me into a more private space for what I only hoped would be more kisses, and perhaps less clothing?

A scream tore through the silent morning and utterly destroyed the mood. Galen snapped to attention and rushed to the window in my room to find the source. I followed after him, slipping an arm around Galen’s waist. I was more than willing to ignore the blood curdling scream and work on rebuilding the sensual mood we had been working on. It was the cook, or a tavern guest previewing their breakfast.

However, the hollow, moaning scream that followed sent icicles through my blood and chilled my passions. I knew that sound. “A wraith. Why are wraiths here?!” I wailed. Galen clutched my hand and grinned with excitement.

“Come on, parlor trick, let’s go take care of some undead!” He rushed out of my bedroom and started down the stairs to the tavern, and the Living Dead strike me down. I followed him with a blissful expression on my face.

There were two wraiths attacking a man with a basket full of bread out on the street. I could see their chilling forms through the big windows of the tavern much more clearly now. Their talon claws started to rip at the man’s flesh while they howled at their conquest. Great black feathered wings silently stroked through the crisp morning air and held them aloft. They had no legs. A black cloak hid what remained of their bodies. Anyone close enough to see beneath would find the rotting flesh that desperately clung to their bones. Wraiths tried to cling to the living world, but their soulless nature consumed the life around them. If memory served me correctly, their need to devour life robbed them of their flesh. I didn’t think they had faces under those hooded cloaks. A starving darkness desperate for one more moment of life.

“Ever fought one of these before?” Galen drew his sword, his grip clenched around the hilt as the blade lit up with a warm, golden light. He had blessed the blade this time.

“Uh, no.” I had, but it had been years ago in training, and how did I go about explaining it if I told him yes? It was not like I could assume Clerics have classes on ‘The Dead and How to Control Them’ or anything of the sort. Not that those lessons helped me much at the moment. I hardly thought my ability to tame a wraith would reflect well on my current fake identity as a parlor trick wizard.

“Keep away from their claws—they’re poisoned—and resist their howl, it’s meant to lure you to your death.” He kicked open the door of the inn and charged the black figures in tattered black cloaks.

Wraiths were horrible creatures, willing to lash out at living beings and dead ones alike. I worried my hands together and desperately tried to figure out what to do to help Galen fight these creatures. I wished I had my frost-forged sword! It would have cut their brittle bones into pieces.

Nevertheless, necessity demanded a weapon, so I grabbed a pole from a barrel, which was meant to reach high up shelving units in their cellar, and ran after Galen. My hands around the pole spread frost along the wood, creating an icy point at the top to serve as a spear.

“Galen, behind you!” I shifted and flung myself into the line of fire as the wraith plunged behind Galen. A swish and a stab and screech later, the creature sailed over us and slammed into the ground a few feet away.

I laughed in triumph, having sliced his feathery wing nearly in two. “Hah! This is fun!” I chimed and got ready for the wraith to get up and try attacking again, its long poisonous claws dragging along the cobblestone, leaving putrid green scars along the road.

Galen and I fought side by side, back-to-back. The wraiths weren’t slow and moronic like the zombies had been, their flight enabling them to be far more limber and quicker. I held my own, and Galen was beauty in motion as he moved with his sword. I only wished to be so beautiful as I swung my makeshift spear around.

By the time Galen sunk his holy sword into the last wraith’s rotting chest, a big crowd of people had amassed around us. The wraith hissed and wheezed its final breath, and the townsfolk erupted in praise for the both of us. The ice spear fell from my hands, returning to regular wood again while I stared at all of the people. There must have been at least a hundred! Where had they all come from?

I panicked.

I had never had so many people staring at me before, and I feared someone would see, or someone would guess. Take in my frail form, my pallid face, and dark hair. They would see right through me, see the dark, black heart in my chest and shatter my dream before it even had a chance to become real.

I pressed close to Galen, trying to hide the panic in my voice. “We should make our way out of this town. Fast.”

He was laughing and waving at some of the townsfolk while dragging the blade out of the wraith’s chest, the steel coated in its black blood. “What? Mortimer, we’re heroes to these people. Why, if we stay long enough, we won’t have to buy a drop of alcohol or pay for our rooms tonight!” He grinned and gave me a wink. My face scrunched at the idea.

“I-I shouldn’t drink with strangers.” I bit my lip nervously. Galen laughed.

“What? Are you afraid you will join in on their song and merriment?”

“I’m not afraid, no.”

“You’re petrified.”

“You’ve never seen me drunk.” Galen pressed closer to me and grinned in a downright wicked way.

“Oh? And what sort of drunk are you, Mortimer?” It was my turn to gulp, my mouth suddenly dry and my breeches tight enough that I was thankful I was mostly hidden by Galen’s superior muscle mass.

“I’m a bit of a handful, I’m told.”

“I would like to find out for myself.”

I scowled at the Cleric. But there was nothing for it. Minutes later, after being rushed back into the inn by the townsfolk, everyone was drinking. Galen smirked at me while the baker's daughter threw her arms around me and made me drink from her glass.

Galen laughed at my sour face. And, Death help me, his laugh only made me want him more.

*

We set out for Oaksdale the next morning since the town of Horkshire got me drunker than a jungle lichen. Galen only laughed at my antics and tumbled me into bed, and promptly tumbled after me and fell right to sleep. His snoring bellowed through the room mere seconds later. Oh, for the love of Death’s cold tit, he hadn’t snored like this the night before! Or had he? Either way, his vibrating vocal cords thrummed through my ears to aid the slow ache starting in my head.

Curse him, my fantasies refused to let me sleep! At least until the alcohol had its way with me and sent me into a hazy slumber. My mind happily concocting the most intoxicating dream about Galen and how he’d feel around me, his hands all over me, my hands exploring the heat of his body.

Perdita was nestled in the small of my back when we woke up, though she was quite offended when Galen leaned in for a few heated kisses. I would have loved to continue, but our stomachs groaned in protest. As much as Galen and I wanted to feed a different hunger, we got up, packed, and ate breakfast at the inn. I nursed my hangover while Galen marched onward despite the pain. If he had any hint of a hangover, he certainly didn’t let it show.

He had offered me some yellow looking concoction and said it would clear up my headache, but I declined, given how nasty his green tonic tasted I didn’t imagine the yellow one was flavored any better. He gave up, and we went on our way.

The next four days were the best of my entire life. We were together from sunrise to sunset, chatting about our lives and the future. Mine of course, being wonderfully made up. At night, we would set our bedrolls next to each other and snuggle up in the middle of them while Perdita mewled from our hips, our heads, our feet, or wherever she found space.

The first night, we talked well past midnight, kissing each other sweetly before we both agreed sleep would be important for Galen’s mission in Oaksdale. Thanks to Galen's warm arms wrapped around me throughout the night, I had no issue finding sleep.

The second night, we had a late dinner, followed by a heated session of kisses and shy, curious touches. Perdita got so upset at our rustling she retired to sleep on the horse instead of on the bed with us.

The third night, I will never forget. How could I find the words to say what happened? Galen had had something on his mind since that afternoon while we continued on our four-day journey. He kept on saying we’d reach Oaksdale by noon tomorrow. That tonight was the last night we’d have to worry about the dead surprising us. I had been nervous that in some way my true nature, my title, my powers, had been revealed. I worried that he had put the puzzle pieces together and was planning to gut me in my sleep. That he was going to reject me as one of those unholy undead creatures his people had sworn to destroy.

We set up camp as the sun set in the western sky. Tucked away in a small overhang from the cliff side, it was lined with moss, which would make the best cushion for our bedrolls. It was wet though, and Galen struggled to light a fire to cook our dinner. But thankfully, the wind was still, and after a few tries, we successfully had a small, quietly crackling fire that would be sufficient for warmth and food.

Galen continued to be quiet through dinner, to the point that my anxiety was making it hard to choke down the dried meat and potato stew. Perdita was curled up in my lap, purring as she nibbled at her extra helping of meat, courtesy of my knotted stomach being unable to process food.

“Nice night, yes?” I swallowed down my fear and broke the silence.

“Mm… Yes,” Galen replied. Dammit, he was on to me. He was going to kill me in my sleep tonight. Well, it had been a good run; I supposed any choice I made would end in my death. This was terrible! What sort of existence was this? The Prince of the Necromancers was a cursed title. I wasn’t ending the curse; I was fulfilling it.

Exactly like my uncle did, and my grandfather before him.

I must have appeared paler and more upset than usual because Galen’s warm hand settled on my shoulder. I peeked up to find his face full of concern. “Mortimer? I have something I want to ask you.” I gulped and nodded while gazing into those golden brown eyes. Was this it? Was he going to do it the honorable way and shove his sword right through my heart while I was wide awake? “Are you all right, Mortimer?” His brows knit as he smoothed some of the hair away from my brow and pressed his hand to my forehead.

Joke was on him; I’d always be cool to the touch. “I-I’m fine. What is it you want to ask me, Galen? You’ve been so quiet today.”

“I know. I’m only nervous about tomorrow. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“I don’t want anything to happen to you either, Galen.” I smiled, cautiously reaching up to stroke the back of my hand against his bearded cheek. “But we’ll be all right. We’ve beaten zombies and wraiths, haven’t we?” Galen chuckled, his warm hand moving up to cup mine against his cheek.

“Tonight might be the last time I can hold you for a while.” Galen’s voice was deeper than before, and he was leaning in closer.

“I certainly hope not, but you might be right.” Perdita growled and crawled out of my lap, as if she sensed what was coming.

“Mortimer, I wanted to ask if I… If you would allow me to make love to you tonight?”

I froze and stared in bewilderment at the man who was mere inches away from me. That was what had Galen so tangled up and mute today? A hot blush flooded my cheeks. My mouth worked, but no words came out.

“I wouldn’t want to take something without your permission, but I want you so much, Mortimer. I don’t know what it is about you. But I want. You.” I stared into his brown eyes; the fire dancing across them mirrored the fire of desire that had ignited between us a few days back. I couldn’t deny I’d wanted Galen from the moment I saw him, looking up into his handsome, lively face from the hole I had waltzed my way into. I craved his spark, his light and affection. I hadn’t a clue what drew him to me, but it was as strong as my hunger for him.

He wanted me. He spoke it loud and clear.

I never dreamed I’d be wanted.

“I-I want you too, Galen. I’ve never–please, make love to me,” I whispered. That was all Galen needed to hear. The moment the words fell from my lips, his were pressed against mine. Kissing and crushing against me as he pushed me back to the bedrolls I had set up next to the fire.

A fire I would be extremely thankful for in a few moments.

I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders, holding his hot body against my own while he shifted us to the center of the bedrolls. Our legs were tangled together as he lay on top of me; our lips locked together while our tongues mingled in heated passion. His hands roamed my body, something they had done previous nights, but everything was different tonight. Nothing would be left between us; I would be fully exposed to him as would he be to me.

I’m certain he was not at all nervous about that part. He was a god among men. I was, well, me.

His fingers worked at the buttons of my overcoat and the drawstrings of my breeches. I was nervous and clutching his tunic tightly in lieu of being productive and helping him undress.

“Mortimer,” he groaned, his voice husky and the tiny vibrations tickling my lips while we hovered a whisper away from another kiss.

“Yes?” Despite my distracted ruminations, I couldn’t deny that the attention, the mere idea of Galen touching my naked skin, was arousing. My groin was still tight, despite the ties being semi-undone.

“Stop thinking so much, let go, and feel with me,” he instructed, and kissed me again, softer this time, but consuming all of my attention as I tried to relax into it.

“Okay,” I whispered. My vice grip on his tunic relaxed, and I let my hands caress down Galen’s back, feeling over the hard muscles underneath the tunic and his leather vest. Galen groaned, so I did it again, and then I let myself start to undress the man of my fantasies.

We shouldered out of our vests together, and out of my overcoat; Galen laid them to the side to keep them from getting caught up beneath us. I took the ends of his tunic gingerly and pulled up on the linen fabric until Galen was free of it, his dark brown hair falling along his face as he shook it free.

With the firelight illuminating his every muscle, he was even more like a god, golden and tan, taking on rich red tones from the fire. Those eyes dark with pleasure while my pale fingers slipped down the lines of his chest. I swallowed thickly, blushing even before I saw him smiling down at me.

“You’re stunning.” I stumbled in my words, but he didn’t seem to mind. Galen’s hands slipped under my tunic, touching the naked flesh of my waist underneath.

“My turn.” I contained my nerves and let those hands caress up my torso, which was lean, pale, and nowhere near as impressive as Galen’s body. I sat up to help Galen pull the tunic over my head, feeling my hair lift up with the linen, and then fall back down over my back. Flat and lifeless compared to his.

“You’re beautiful, Mortimer.” He took in the sight of me, his golden-brown eyes drinking in my pale flesh.

I chuckled softly and shook my head. “You’re the one who’s truly impressive. I’m–”

“Beautiful.” His finger hushed my self-depreciation. Death helped me, I kissed along the warm digit while he pulled me in closer. “You’re beautiful, and I want you, Mortimer. Never forget that.”

I wouldn’t. Not in a million years.

“Kiss me, Galen.” I spoke softly, but my hands betrayed my urgency and pulled my beautiful to-be-lover down on top of me again, pressing a needy kiss to his full lips. I wrapped one leg over his and pulled him closer, not stopping until we were tightly pressed together and—

“Oh!”

It was incredible! To feel Galen’s body flush to mine. To feel the heat of him pressed tight to mine! A shudder moved through me as my body responded to an instinctual call for friction. I rocked myself up into Galen, sighing in pleasure, hearing the Cleric groaning above me while I moved. Discovering new pleasures I hadn’t thought of doing with another person.

“Yes–Galen–it’s so good,” I gushed and arched to take advantage of Galen’s hot body. At least until he pushed me back down to the bedroll and left me without anything to move against!

“No wait!”

“Shhh, Mortimer. I don’t want you to come before I’m inside you.” He nuzzled my long hair, his voice deep but with a teasing tone.

“I-Galen!”

“Much as I enjoyed feeling you arch against me like a cat in heat.”

“I didn’t!” But I had, and the comparison to a cat in heat made me nearly turn purple.

“It was pretty arousing.”

“Now you’re teasing me,” I mumbled, folding my arms over my flushed chest and pink nipples. Galen chuckled at me, and before I had the chance to protest, he slipped his hands into my breeches and gripped my stiff cock.

“Galen!” I gasped, my arms unfolding and reaching out to clutch his muscled shoulders. His fingers were so hot, and thicker than my own.

“Mortimer, touch me.” He grinned as he stroked my cock gently, not nearly enough for my taste, but his rough thumb moved over the head of my length and I swore if he had asked for my crown and the power over the dead, I would have given it to him. My hand hesitated, but he took it and gently guided it down to his groin.

I wasn’t entirely new to this; I’d had my share of awkward discoveries and tumbles, but mostly? Only with myself. A kiss or two with a friend, with Galen. I gingerly unlaced Galen’s breeches and reached in to touch him the way I liked to be touched, until directed otherwise.

But as my long, pale fingers undid his laces and reached in, I was nervous. His hand stroked through my long, ink black hair while I wrapped my fingers around him. I glanced up at him, worried I’d find rejection, or be laughed off the bedroll.

But his eyes were closed, his lip held tight between his teeth as he struggled with…pleasure?

“Galen.” The air rushed out of my lungs as I gasped his name and leaned up to kiss him, forgetting my nerves as my lips found his abused ones and kissed him deeply, my fingers moving over his erection like his fingers started moving over mine.

“You’re so hot,” I gasped, breaking the sweet kiss only to have Galen’s mouth move to my neck and devour me there.

“Your hands feel so good, Mortimer. All of you feels so good.”

In silent agreement, we both rushed to rid ourselves of the rest of our clothing, breeches, boots, socks—everything. Galen blindly reached for his satchel while I kissed the air from his lungs. We ground our hips into one another, cock to cock. He was so big, but I was long and elegant, his words not mine, and together we were desperate gentlemen who needed release.

Galen found the vial of oil, warming it over his fingers before he prepared my body to take him. It was the most unique feeling; I cannot think of how to describe it. But I was hardly able to find words to describe this night.

His fingers were hot as they pressed inside me; I had shifted myself down to wrap my lips around his member, needing some sort of outlet to muffle my moans and cries, and Galen was busy with my entrance, so I couldn’t pull him down for more kisses.

He tasted salty, but vibrant. I forgot my self-consciousness and bucked back into his fingers when he got three within me. It took him forever to prepare me, but when those pleasurable fingers left my body all at once, I whined. “Galen.”

“I think you’re ready for me, Mortimer. Come here, sit in my lap.”

I was drunk on his pheromones and life force. I climbed right into his lap as he ordered, because doing anything else was preposterous considering how much I needed him.

“Galen,” I started again, and he silenced me with a kiss.

“I know, lover, I’ve got you. I’m right here. I’m going to give you what you need.”

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders again and straddled his lap, a soft moan leaving my lips as his hands cradled my pale, bony ass.

“Galen, I want you so badly.” I didn’t recognize my own voice, but my lover kissed me again and stroked my back soothingly.

“I want you too. And I’m going to take you now, Mortimer. Lover. Now, take a good, slow breath for me?”

I took a cautious suck in, and when I respired, I felt Galen’s hot, wet shaft push up into me. I never dreamed it’d feel so good, and so harsh. I hissed against his shoulder and shuddered, refusing to cry from the pain of the stretch that three fingers did not seem at all enough for now. But Galen paused, waiting for me to relax before pushing in more. Soothing me with soft nothings against my ear, and his large, hot hands running over my gangly form.

He stroked my hair and groaned when I had him fully inside me. It was a tight fit, not that he was upset by that, and this time, I got to feel him shiver from the feeling of finally being buried in me.

“Galen,” I whispered, and he kissed me in response, giving me a few precious moments to adjust before he lifted my hips, gently–not too much–and then pushed me back down onto his lap, my cock rubbing along his well-defined abs through the whole motion.

He was teaching me how to move. I was burning from the inside out from the heat of his cock, but hell if I was going to let that opportunity go to waste! He directed me a few more times before I took over, gently rocking in his lap a time or two before I planted my knees and started to bounce in his lap. Slow, calculated bounces at first. Because I’ll admit, we did have a few ‘ows’ and ‘oopses’ and ‘acks’ before I got the motion right.

Galen’s erection never flagged. Neither did mine.

Soon enough, I was riding him, at least that’s what he called it when I started picking up speed, craving more of his length. Deeper, harder, faster so that I felt more of that precious trickle of pleasure that wrapped around my balls and prickled up my back and through my cock.

“Yes. Like that. Ride me, lover. God, you feel amazing!” Galen groaned, gripping my hips and helping me slam back down on his erection, hard enough I was certain I would be leaving an ass-shaped bruise on his lap. I was lost in pleasure, my hair tousled everywhere, as I speared myself on his cock over and over again. I was smiling and nearly laughing with how good it was. My Cleric was responding in kind too. His enthusiasm for our coupling was apparent in how much his muscles clenched as he drove himself deep into me, his grunts of effort dovetailing with my panting and whispered pleas for more.

He kissed me deeply, gripping my hips tightly before he lay back on the ground beneath us. His strong hands pulled me with him so that I lay on top of him. It threw me off of the rhythm I had found. But it didn’t matter. Galen’s hands guided my body and his hips started to move. He pistoned his hips with his powerful thighs, his arms holding me tight so that I wouldn’t get bucked away while he pounded into me. Our skin was slick with sweat; our bodies slapping together echoed in our tiny overhang.

I had absolutely no cares, since I was crying his name while clinging to his pectorals, my body spread as wide as I could get it. He cocked his hips to a different angle and pounded his cock in faster. I barely contained my scream. It would have alerted all the neighboring birds had I not muffled my cries on his chest.

It was all too good, and my own desperate, needy erection was trapped between our bellies with no escape from the onslaught of friction. I felt the throbbing in my balls start to take hold, I didn’t want it to end.

“G-Galen. Lover,” I stuttered, unable to form a full sentence.

“Come for me, lover,” he growled, fingers biting into the skin of my shoulders and ribs while he slammed into me like a wild man.

I had no desire to resist him; from the moment we met, I hadn’t been able to. This time was no different. I cried his name and climaxed all over our bellies. The friction as he continued to thrust into me was incredible while I jolted and jerked with my orgasm.

It didn’t take him much longer. By the time I was swimming in an intoxicating concoction of hormones that came from physical relief, his cock got impossibly hard inside of me, then a burning, wetness spread inside me, so hot it nearly scorched me with its passion. He jerked and gasped and kissed me demandingly, gasping my name over and over again while his orgasm flooded him, and me.

We both collapsed on the bedroll, me still on top of Galen, and him buried deep within me while we twitched and writhed in the aftershocks of pleasure.

I turned my head to rest my ear over his heart and listened to it as we both slowly settled down, our pounding hearts beating as one from what I heard. I didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but right now, I didn’t want anything but this moment to exist.

Galen stirred and broke me from my strange semi-sleep, semi-blissful meditative state.

“You’re amazing,” he mumbled. I lifted my head with a soft whine.

“You’re incredible. I’ve never felt,” I huffed and centered myself for a moment. “That was the best thing I’ve ever done.”

Galen grinned and stroked my hair as I leaned into his hand and nuzzled the palm gently. Silence fell around us again, and I tucked myself back against his chest. The quiet noises of the forest crept back into my awareness as sleep started to tug at the edges of my vision.

“Want to go again?” My ears perked up at the suggestion, which jolted me from a semi-sleepy state again. He grinned at me shamelessly while he squirmed under me, enough to stir my mind and body to the idea of another round.

“Absolutely, yes! Again. Come here you smirking bastard.”

*

We both were sore and sleep deprived the next morning, but the kisses we shared clearly stated that neither one of us cared. Last night had been better than my wildest dreams, and were it not for the fact that I was sore and tired this morning, I would have tried to woo Galen into another sexual adventure.

But we had ground to cover, Galen had his duties, and I needed to stay with Galen.

I had never been so alive, so complete, so happy, until last night. Being wrapped up in Galen’s embrace, our bodies joined as one, our combined body heat chasing away the chilly air. Last night, it occurred to me that I couldn’t live without that feeling, without Galen’s touch and affection, without his body pressed close to mine.

I never believed it would feel so good. Sure, my lonely ventures with myself would feel nice and the curious explorations with one of the stable hands back home had been great at the time. But it had been nothing like this. Galen was so hot and solid; his voice thickened with pleasure and made my toes curl. I was sure that I didn’t want to live without it.

Which was a funny thing to say, coming from a Necromancer.

My life was meant to be in service to my people, cold, dark, and alone. I had betrayed my people and our way of life by embarking on this fool’s journey. But at this particular moment, I couldn’t see them. I couldn’t bring myself to think past my new life with Galen.

I had found meaning, and most importantly, I had found love. And no one would take it away from me. If they tried, I would fight like a wild animal. I never wanted that cold, solitary life dedicated to ‘my people.’ I wanted love, warmth, and companionship. Which was absolutely normal. No one wanted to live their life alone, a sacrifice to others. I couldn’t imagine my uncle had wanted that life.

If I let myself think he gave himself to that life of his own free will, I was certain everything I believed in would crumble.

Galen made two pots of tea in the morning. Both of which we drank down for the life-giving energy the leaves would bring us as we made our way to our destination of Oaksdale.

I had traveled by the town a couple of weeks prior during my escape from the Gravelands. Everything appeared normal when I strolled through, but my eyes weren’t exactly the greatest for discerning between the living and the dead. I’ve lived among the dead my entire life; they’re normal beings to me. Sure, one every now and again didn’t have two eyes, or one was dragging around their head, arm, or leg behind them, and some of them had extra-large fangs, and some were covered in moss and— All the same. They were people to me. Always had been, doubtlessly always would be.

Nevertheless, the capital city, Tristine (where Galen was raised and where Clerics were trained to be fierce warriors,) received reports of the undead creeping in on the town long before I passed through.

So it wasn’t because of me.

We rode through the morning hours, Perdita asleep on my lap as the morning sun climbed across the horizon. The sunshine was warm over my face and shoulders, and Dear Death, I was pathetic, but more than once I wanted to open my mouth and ask Galen to take a short break for other activities that would make us even warmer.

I refrained, but the desire was there. The smiles and looks he would give me as we made small talk made me pretty sure if I had offered, he wouldn’t have said no, despite the pressure to finish his mission. However, riding a horse was already hard enough after last night’s pleasures. I didn’t want to add more insult to injury.

Come early afternoon, we were cantering into Oaksdale. It was a small town, but it had a decent tavern, a smithy, a good supply store, and a baker. Usually, I’d think we’d have seen someone milling about in the town square, but there wasn’t one soul outside on this gorgeous, sunny day.

I came from the Land of the Dead, and even I was perplexed by the lack of people going about their livelihoods on this day. No children playing, no ladies bustling about with errands or food preparations, nor men working about their chosen crafts. Nothing.

Galen dismounted and started looking around the place. Perdita had stopped purring, her ears swiveling as if she too had picked up on the lack of life in the town that should be some form of awake at this hour. I stroked her ears a few times before I climbed down as well and peeked in a couple of windows.

“I don’t suppose everyone is having an afternoon nap?”

“I doubt it, Mortimer, but it’s a good hope.” Galen unsheathed his sword as he went to the door and gave it a knock. Silence was the only answer to the quick raps. Galen raised an eyebrow at me and knocked again.

“Excuse me! We’re travelers. May we find aid here?” he called to the house in case the people were too frightened to come to the door after their encounter with the Dead.

No response.

Galen pushed at the shut door, then pulled, and pushed again. The wood budged but didn’t give.

“Locked but no response. Strange,” he muttered and then went about searching around the house. “Let’s look around.” His dark eyes glanced back toward me, regarding my befuddled expression. “You might want to arm yourself, Mortimer.” I pulled my short blade from the satchel on Eirny’s back; it wasn’t as steady in my hand as my frost-forged sword I had brought with me originally, but it would serve its purpose in defending me.

I crept up to what was the smithy and snooped around the forge. The flames were still going, though they had lost a lot of their intensity. Not a good sign, but still, it was a sign of life having been here perhaps a day or two ago.

“Hello?” I called into the smithy. Nothing, not even a pin drop. I glanced back at the house that Galen was investigating, but there was no sign of my handsome Cleric companion.

Perhaps he had found a way into the cottage through a back door. I stepped into the house—the door to the forge was left open. It hopefully wasn’t a big deal when one had a huge fire a few feet from their home, but it still left me slightly concerned for the inhabitants.

Everything appeared to be in order. However, the food for making dinner was left out, half chopped, perhaps in preparation for the evening dinner tonight? But where were the people to make it? What about that morning’s delivery of bread?

Maybe blacksmiths didn’t like bread?

The beds were empty, unmade, and cold. What had happened here in Oaksdale?

I stepped back out of the house, my brows creating a worry line between them as I tried to puzzle through what I recalled of the undead invasions in the lands of the living from centuries ago. I didn’t remember any account of a creature from the Gravelands that was capable of making a population of people disappear.

“Galen, I don't think this is the work of the undead. This is–everyone is gone, Galen. Even zombies leave behind corpses.”

Silence greeted me. Was Galen so far in the house that he couldn’t hear me? Impossible; this town was quieter than a dead man’s chest.

“Galen?” I went up to the door and yanked on it, pounding on the wood. “Galen! Where are you?”

Nothing. I started to panic, racing around the house for another entrance, an open window that Galen might have leapt into the house through.

“Galen!?” I cried and came back around to the front. Nothing. “Galen, this isn’t funny! Stop this and come out at once!” I rushed back to the forge, crying out for the man my heart belonged to. I went to the Oaksdale Tavern, the bakery. Nothing and no one was here. Perdita, Einry, and I were the only living creatures in this town.

I struggled to find an answer, a reason; there was nothing to lash out at as there was no sign of any captor or any monster anywhere.

“Please! Galen, please come out? Please. Oh please, holy dead—” I whispered under my breath, feeling my hand shake as it held the sword. “Not so soon. I can’t. I found him!”

The ground shook beneath me, and a deep growl resounded behind me. I whipped around, my blade at the ready to face whatever it was that had taken my beautiful Cleric from me.

“Who are yo– Father!” I cried in horror. His slate blue eyes glared down at me while a bitter cold wind blew past. It covered Oaksdale in an icy mist, and with the aid of that white ice, I made out a few figures, undead soldiers with their rusty armor holding the townsfolk in place. The children frozen in fear with their eyes wide, mouths open in silent screams. Mothers reaching for their children, their husbands, as zombies pulled at their hair and clothing. But no one moved. As if suspended in time. Was it an illusion? Or was the silent town a projection meant to hide this terrifying truth?

“What is this?” I demanded and glared at the figure shaped like my father, taller than me, broader from years of sword training. His dark eyes were cold, and his face was filled with anger and disapproval. I couldn’t blame him. I had run away from home, away from my destiny that kept the Gravelands in balance.

“This is what you have created.” My father’s voice rumbled the ground again. He must not have physically been here. He was reaching through the lands with his necromancy to reach me.

“I can’t have possibly created this. I am not nearly so-so twisted and vindictive and-and where is Galen!” I glared at my father. My voice may not be as powerful as his, but I would hold my own.

“Release these people! What are you doing to them, Father? Why would you do this?”

My father sighed and shook his head. “You did this, Mortimer. You rejected the Throne of the Dead. Now the Dead have no one to fill.”

I growled. I’d listened to this nonsense time and time again. All I wanted was to be free of this stupid destiny my father and mother had told me about all my life. I wanted to be with Galen.

“They don’t need to fill someone. They didn’t have to kill Uncle! Or Grandfather! Why do they have to have some sacrifice to be appeased? I control my destiny, Father. I took control when I left home.”

“For all you’ve grown in the past few weeks, it seems you have learned nothing. Must you be so thick headed, my son?” He sighed and raised his ethereal hand to brush away some of the mist to reveal Galen standing next to my father, a look of shock on his face as he was ambushed from the side of the house by hungry vampires.

“No!” I cried and raced to Galen’s side, taking his arms and shaking his immobile figure. “No, Galen! Wake up! Wake up, this is all a ruse. Galen–oh Death please–” I cried and tried to wedge myself between my love and the power-hungry vampires that were clawing at his arms.

“They’re here because of you, Mortimer. Because you did not take the Throne, they are looking for you, or anyone, to satisfy them. But they need you, son; if we do not wish for war with the living again, they need you. We need you.”

I shook my head. “What sort of life is that, living for the sake of peace with the nations?”

“It’s our duty to the living.”

“I don’t want to die for duty!” I clung to Galen. My father sighed deeply, and the ground beneath my feet rumbled.

“I didn’t want to do this to you, Mortimer. But the law is the law, and your head is too far lost in the clouds.” He spoke a few necromancy words I vaguely recognized, and then Galen was gasping and moving in my arms.

“–ortimer!! Oh God,'' he gasped and clung to me. “The vampires! They’re eating–” He gripped me tightly and backed away from the dead with their elongated fangs, but came to an abrupt halt when he settled his beautiful brown eyes on my father’s imposing projection standing a few feet away from us.

“Mortimer, what is this?” He pulled me back, forcing me to stare up at his face. Damnation, there was nowhere to hide. He couldn’t possibly look between me and my father and not see the resemblance.

“The–the Necromancer king did this. I-it’s an illusion. The town being so quiet I mean. This is–this is what’s going on?”

“It’s because of you, my son,” my father repeated. “You must fulfill your destiny.” My blood ran cold. Galen’s arms froze around me, his dark eyes watching my face.

“What does he mean? Son? What is he talking about?” Galen’s voice wavered, and hot tears started to sting my eyes.

Why was I denied this happiness? All I did was be born to the queen and king of the Dead. I didn't pick this. I didn’t want the duty. I wanted to live. With Galen! I wanted to feel his warm arms around me and his kiss forever.

My father was ruining my happiness. All in the name of my duty to the Dead, he shattered my paltry dreams into dust.

“Galen, my love, I am his son. I’m the Prince of the Necromancers,” I whispered quietly, hoping beyond hope that Galen wouldn’t care. That with all the time he’s spent with me he would see I wasn’t evil, disgusting, or an abomination on the world. I took his warm hands into my own, squeezing them tightly as I prayed for him to understand. I tried to explain it to him with my eyes, pleading with him to see past my heritage and to remember what it was like to hold me, to kiss me, to be with me.

Galen stared back at me, incredulous. He pulled his hands out of mine, his face filled with contempt. “You lied to me!”

“I didn’t want to. You would have killed me! I don’t want to be the prince. Galen, please.” I took a step forward, reaching out to take his hands again, but Galen choked and yanked back further, stumbling back toward Perdita and Eirny

“Stay away from me! I can’t believe– You were always so cold. I let a corpse touch me! Oh my God.”

“Galen. Please. I love—”

“Don’t. Don’t you dare say that. Don’t you dare profess that, knowing you lied to me and lured me here to my death!”

“But I didn’t!”

“You brought your armies here. Lured me here to die so that your plague would continue to grow and spread! You disgust me.” He spat at my feet, but he might as well have run me through the heart with his blade.

“Galen.” I swallowed my tears, shaking my head as he continued to back away from me and my father.

“God help you, if you say my name again, I will give you the final death, corpse!” he hissed. I shut my mouth and stared as he stumbled through the mist and left the town without Eirny or Perdita.

I’m sure they would run after him once this town was released from death’s grip though.

“Now do you understand, my son?”

“No.” I fell to my knees. My chest was throbbing with pain as the only person I had ever loved called me a corpse and ran away from me.

“To save the living, we must sacrifice ourselves. Only we can hold back the tides of death, my son. You are the strongest Necromancer, so it is your destiny to give so they may live.” My father’s hand settled on my shoulder. “They do not understand our rules, our life. And they never will. But in order to keep them safe, we must give of ourselves.”

I took in the town, all of the faces stricken with terror, some dying, some crying. All of them were helpless at the hands of the undead.

“I am truly sorry, my son. But if you want Galen to live…” My father’s words were softer now, his hand steady as he squeezed my shoulder.

“Then I must give of myself.” Icy tears trailed down my cheeks and hit the misty ground beneath me. It was a rotten card to play, but it struck true to my broken heart. I loved Galen, and there wasn’t any way he would ever accept my love. Not in a million lifetimes. We were created for different purposes, at opposite ends of the spectrum of life and death.

How did I fool myself into thinking he would love the likes of me?

“Let’s go home, my son,” my father said as he gazed over the town of Oaksdale. “I will return this town to its rightful form. It might not be fully restored but—”

“But some lives will be spared.”

“Yes.”

“Home, then. There’s nothing left for me here.”

I got back up, wiped my eyes, and turned to my father again. He wrapped his strong arms around my shoulders and pulled me into the ground. I let his Necromantic magic pull me along and return me to the Gravelands.

I shouldn’t have been so sad; I’d had a wonderful adventure with some unexpected romance along the way. Galen may never want to think of me ever again, but it didn’t stop me from thinking about him. And I would, for every single day of the rest of my cursed life.

Maybe the memory of his warmth would give me comfort in the years to come when the cold was my only friend.

*

I was cleaned up and dressed in the ceremonial robes of the Necromancer Prince within an hour. A crown of small chips of gravestones settled over my head, heavy and already chilling me.

My mother had welcomed me home, of course, still sad for my fate, but she told me she was proud of me for coming back. Members of the high council stared at me with disapproval, but she had always said they were stuffy and full of themselves.

I lost my will, honestly. My mind kept replaying the look on Galen’s face when he discovered he had let a Necromancer touch him and bring him pleasure. I only saw the horror in his eyes as he called me a corpse and ran away.

My hair was elegantly brushed until it was silken and smooth, my hands decorated with signet rings and gloves to keep back the cold sting of death. Not that it would matter, I was already chilled to the bone.

My father told me the town of Oaksdale was recovered. The dead had been appeased when he announced the Prince would take the throne.

I numbly stood there as the ceremony took place, attendants and Lichen Priests taking away my Uncle’s frail, lifeless body from the Throne of Death; it was a delicate procedure, and one that had to be done as soon as possible. For as long as no Prince sat upon Death’s Throne, the Dead were free to roam the lands, and no Necromancer would have power over them.

A Necromancer must always sit on the throne, offer his own body to the Dead to appease their desires for life. That was our truce with the Dead. That was why we held the powers of death. We gave of our own. Our loved ones, to wield our power. In days long past, we used it to protect others. To comfort them. Death was a strange power, but we were a part of life, and healing.

With the blessings of my father and a necklace of jet stone from my mother, I was led up the steps to the throne by the Lichen Priests. They told me it would hurt a bit; the icy grip Death had would freeze my skin.

It wouldn’t hurt as much as the hollow place my heart used to be. A tiny black heart from a careless, naive Necromancer prince was left in Oaksdale, crushed under the terrible reality of a love rejected.

I listened to them mutter as they turned me around and said whenever I was ready. I didn’t waste time; the Throne was now my escape from pain. I sat down rapidly, my hands gripping the arms tight while one of the Lichen Priests gasped from how rushed I was about it. But I had to freeze, lest the tears in my eyes trickled down my face and froze there with me.

The ice-cold stone hit my body, my hands relaxing and settling on the arm rests as Death’s hand reached up and wrapped around my aching chest and squeezed. I gasped from the freezing touch, feeling it move through my blood, muscles, and bones.

Then I was frozen. One small, single tear escaped my eye and slipped down my cheek before my face was covered in crystalized ice. Immortalizing one salty drop of water forever on my face, at least until it was time to dismantle me, like they did my uncle.

As I faded away into the darkness that welcomed me, Galen’s face feathered across my memories. I would have grinned, but I was too cold to move anymore.

Then there was nothing. Only the icy fist of Death around the shards of my heart.

*

GALEN

 

I raced Eirny as hard as she’d go for three days heading straight to the land of the Necromancers, the Gravelands. I didn’t have an army of anything behind me. It was me, my horse, and Perdita, racing against hope that we might storm the Necromancer’s castle and find Mortimer.

When the curse had been lifted from Oaksdale, and most of those lives had returned to normal, at last I had time to think beyond the absolute fear and betrayal that had slapped me in the face while fighting those vampires and lichens. Mortimer was one of them! He was their prince for Good Heaven’s sake!

I had run to the nearest town to send an urgent missive home to gather an army of Clerics to come to Oaksdale and fight the undead armies there. Then I had returned to attempt to scout out their plan of attack, count their forces to see what we were up against. Possibly kill their prince who had stolen my heart and broken it in under a week.

I was in shock. Mortimer was a Necromancer, and not any Necromancer, the prince! Which meant he would be their king! I couldn’t live with the heartbreak, knowing I might one day have to face Mortimer in battle. I’d sooner kill him now and end it for the both of us than see that day.

Perhaps that was dark of me, but it was what I wanted at the time. I was beyond comfort and disgusted with myself. How could I have let myself fall for a dead man? How dare I have kissed a dead body!

Looking back on it, there were so many signs, Mortimer’s cold hands, his powers of ice and seemingly nothing else, his coolness with the zombie attacks, his naive insistence that Death and Life must be in balance.

I was a fool.

But when I returned to scout out Oaksdale, I discovered I was an even bigger fool than I had assumed. Life had returned; the mists were gone. No sign of death or its minions was anywhere in sight.

There were a handful of fallen, those that had ventured into the forests to fight back the mass of undead. But for the most part, everyone was all right, children were traumatized, but healthy, and the touch of death that had threatened them was gone.

They must have believed I had cleansed their lands. And why shouldn’t they? One moment they were at Death’s Door, and then they were freed, and I wandered into town. Me. A Cleric with my sword drawn, my golden armor glinting in the sunlight. I was their hero.

Except I wasn’t. They had crowded around me and cheered for my victory and wept in relief for their savior had returned to them unharmed. But in the dirt, I saw what Mortimer had left behind. Well, Perdita had found them first. She had pawed at them and stared at me until I came over to investigate the two shiny pieces of dirt.

Two small droplets of ice. Shaped not unlike tears. The tears a Necromancer had shed. Never melting, even in my warm hand in the sunlight.

Mortimer. Why would a corpse—a Necromancer who cared only about violating the living–have cried seeing me walk away? Or having to return home?

I was an incredible fool. Perhaps I was the biggest fool because here I was, charging into the Necromancer’s territory after a man who owned way too much of my heart than was fair. We could not be together! There was no way.

But here I was, racing with Perdita in my lap, back to him.

Hoping beyond hope that I wasn’t too late, that I had a chance to apologize and see Mortimer smile again, maybe if he heard me say how much I loved him. Maybe he would reject his title of prince again. This time for love.

I charged through the gates, letting my heart lead me to my destiny. Racing Eirny faster to burst through the doors of the Necromancer’s castle.

“Where’s Mortimer!” I thundered through the silence and came to a halt at the throne. “I demand an audience with the Prince of the Necromancers!”

A man dressed in a crown of iron spikes glanced up from his scrolls and gave a heavy sigh. I recognized him from the mists in Oaksdale. Mortimer’s father. The king of the Necromancers.

I dismounted and stepped up to him. “Your son. I must speak with him.” I hid the fear within me under buckets of self-confidence I barely felt.

The man shook his head. “I would grant you that wish if I possessed the ability, Life Giver. But I fear the Prince has fulfilled his duties to Death.”

“What duties?” My hand fisted at my side. The Necromancer king was silent. “I demand to see him. Now,” I ground out. I wasn’t in a place to make demands, but I was desperate, and unable to hold myself back.

I needed to see Mortimer; I could not live knowing our parting words were that of disgust and hate. It had to have been so desperately painful for him. He would think I hated him, that I wouldn’t even look at him without horror on my face.

He didn’t know how much I loved him.

“Very well,” the king said after a few tense moments, rising from his throne while assessing me with his cold, gray eyes. “If you insist, Life Giver.”

*

The king’s eyes were cold and unreadable as he led me to a different chamber from the throne room. It was frigid in this castle, though I was certain I was the only one who registered the chill. Other subjects and guards passed by us. Gaunt, pale faces stared at mine because I wasn’t dead. Life stuck out like a sore thumb in these halls.

The king stopped before a grand entryway. Two ebony doors were held shut by an intricate silver lock that had a skeletal head as a centerpiece. The silver glinted from the firelight; it had never seen the light of day. Nothing in this place had, as if the sun itself was too repulsed to shine here. The king took a key from his pocket and inserted it into the skeleton’s mouth and twisted it. The doors creaked and groaned as the guards pushed them open. If the castle was cold before, it was nothing compared to the icy rush of air that escaped from the grand chamber.

Was Mortimer in here? He was always so cold, and he loved being warm. How did he stand it here? He had always known this cold, why did he adore the sun so much?

The king stepped inside and nodded for me to follow. I glanced at the hollow features of the guards that stood on either side of this chamber, uncertain if I should trust this to not be a trap.

“Come, Life Giver, if you must see Mortimer,” the king called over his shoulder, as he continued walking inside. I hurried after him and was relieved when I didn’t hear the creek of those dark doors closing behind me.

Not that it meant I was safe from these Necromancers. But I’d take whatever paltry reassurance was available. I followed the king past Ivory and Jet pillars, shivering as the air in my lungs turned to ice crystals as I exhaled.

“What is this place?” I asked.

Mortimer’s father came to a halt in front of me and turned. “It’s Death’s Door, the source of our powers, and our burdens.”

“What is that supposed to–Mortimer!” I gasped, once I had turned after the king my eyes landed on the man I had fallen in love with.

He sat on an ivory throne, a crown of stones on his head. He was quite dead.

I pushed past Mortimer’s father and rushed up the stairs to stand before my beloved Necromancer. His skin was ashen, gray with the cold, his lips tinged blue, and his beautiful silver eyes were unmoving, frozen. Tears sprang to my own eyes when I saw the single icy trail of a tear on Mortimer’s cheek.

“No. What’s wrong with him? He’s dying! What did you do?!” I demanded and reached out to touch my lover, to wake him from his deadly sleep. “Mortimer, wake up! Can you hear me?”

“I wouldn’t touch him, unless you wish to die with him.” Mortimer’s father walked up behind me.

I turned to him, snarling in anger from the cruel treatment that had greeted my love upon his return home. “You’re barbaric!”

“You do not understand, Cleric.”

“What is there to understand? You’ve killed Mortimer!”

“It is his duty. It is always the duty of the eldest royal son to take this seat and protect the land of life from Death’s hunger.”

“I don’t understand.”

“No life-loving creature would. You think our powers are without sacrifice? That we can toil with death and its magic without giving something of ourselves? You believe because you beat us into this barren wasteland that you’ve kept the hand of death from your lively world alone?”

I worked my mouth, but no words formed. I grew up believing my people had pushed the Necromancers to this land of darkness. We had fought on the side of good and banished evil from our doors and locked it away. That by the forces of the living joining together in glorious battle we were able to defeat the plague of undead. I believed they were power hungry and willing to practice any dark art to further their goal and spread across our lands leaving an icy trail of despair in their wake.

“Foolish Cleric.” The king went to Mortimer’s side, staring down at his son with more emotion on his face than I had ever seen before.

“This is the way it’s always been. The first-born must take the Throne of Death, to satisfy the underworld with their own life force and keep it satisfied so that it does not spread across the world. In exchange, we are able to practice necromancy. His blood fuels ours. My brother was here before Mortimer. And my father before him. It’s been this way for centuries.

“When Mortimer fled from his destiny, my brother’s service ended. He had nothing left to give. And without a sacrifice to take his place, the underworld started to creep into the living world. Invading your lands while our powers weakened. We were unable to hold them back.”

“He wanted to live.” I swallowed back the lump in my throat. “There has to be another way. Please, we can bring him back.”

“If there was another way, don't you think I would have found it and avoided this entire situation by now, Cleric? Before I had to sacrifice my eldest son? Or my brother? This is the way things are.”

It was impossible. It was so much worse than I perceived it. Mortimer was lost to me. Destined to live out this shell of a life to save the rest of the world, to save me, from the undead? A sacrifice so that the world may live, and the Necromancers would continue wielding their dark power?

“I can’t believe that. Mortimer, I know you can hear me. My love, please, wake up!” I refused to acknowledge the wetness trickling down my face.

“I’m sorry, Cleric. I truly am. I suggest you forget about Mortimer, and leave this place, and his memory behind. Start a new life for yourself. Your kind is good at that.” The king regarded me, his eyes filled with sorrow even with the sting in his words.

I wouldn’t let it end like this. There was no way for me to forget about Mortimer! His gorgeous beaming face, his awkward stumbling that had gotten him into the pit where I had met him. His sweet words of pleasure and adoration. I’d never be able to leave behind the feeling of his hands on my skin, his hair brushing along my thighs or over my shoulder. His long arms weaving around my waist as we rode along together. He had saved my life more than once! He had stolen my heart in less than a week. I was nothing without Mortimer. He made me whole.

“I want to be with Mortimer.” My voice was so much stronger than I was, but it didn’t matter. I reached out and cupped Mortimer’s cheeks with my hands. “I’m coming for you, my love.”

The king gasped, realizing a second too late that my fingers had caressed their precious sacrifice. “Cleric! No, you’ll die!”

Then let death take me. The instant my fingers met Mortimer’s stone-like skin the freezing touch of death raced through my own body. I gasped from the pain of the bone deep cold. Ice swam through my blood, and darkness flooded the edges of my vision. My heartbeat stuttered in my chest. The words and the world around me became fuzzy and faded, as if I was underwater and trying to listen to the people talking above me. Then it all went blissfully black.

*

MORTIMER

 

The rush of water was a perk to this place. I enjoyed hearing something as opposed to nothing. It reminded me of life. The silence was nice at first, but I was certain if I had to spend eternity listening to nothing, I would surely go mad.

I had woken up in this half-realm, not exactly dead but not at all alive either. Everything was gray, white, or black here. Nothing was known about what happened once the Necromancer Prince sat on Death’s Throne. I wasn’t able to communicate with them. There were hills, a few gray mountains, and some darker ones. I appeared next to a river in a valley between the mountains. On one side the gray dominated the landscape, the grass rustling in different shades of white; tree trunks twisted up from the ground spreading out a canopy of gray scaled leaves.

On the other side of the river was a dark, forbidding forest, and what appeared to be a rolling storm in the distance. Not that I heard the thunder from it. Black underbrush and mist coiled through the trees and licked at the riverbed. Luckily for me, my task here wasn’t too hard to figure out. I was meant to be a conduit between the realm of death and the Necromancers back home. Offer myself as a sacrifice to Death so it wouldn’t invade the realm of the living.

And there so happened to be a bridge over the river with a soft, white glow around it.

Must be where I was meant to stand and let myself be gradually drained for however long it would take before they replaced me. I was already worried for my nephew, and I would never meet him.

I took my place on the bridge, gasping at the first tug of Death’s hunger for my strength. This was my life now. There was a sweetness in this that I hadn’t expected, even while the underworld drained me. I felt my powers grow, and amplify through the realms to give my people power, giving them the strength to cheat death. Letting them use its icy grip to defend themselves, to control the undead. To study their spells and work on new ways to wield our weapons.

I cried faintly; it was bittersweet for my uncle and my grandfather. But for me this sweetness wasn’t enough. My heart broke again remembering Galen, his warmth, his laugh, and his touch.

I was grateful to myself for fighting for my mini adventure, for living the life I wanted to live even for those brief weeks. It meant I got to meet Galen and Perdita and be by their sides for a time. Even if it had all fallen apart in front of me, even if the man I loved hated every fiber of my being and what I stood for. It had been worth it. Even the pain I suffered from now as I stood on the bridge that would be my new home, even as I decorated the white wood with my tears.

I had loved. I loved Galen still, and I was lucky enough to be gifted with his affection in return, and dare I say, for a time, he might have loved me too. I would cling to the memory of our last night together, remember the touch of his hand, how hot he had been. Had my uncle had love in his life?

I was so lucky. I risked the well-being of the living realm to do it, but I wouldn’t trade a second. Even if I missed Galen and the weight of my loss threatened to break my chest open. Wherever Galen was, I only hoped he found happiness, that he’d forget about the sick corpse that had embraced him and made love with him.

But I also hoped maybe someday, he would know I sacrificed myself to save his world. It wouldn’t make him love me, but maybe he might understand why I had done all those things I did while we were together.

“Mortimer!”

Oh, lovely, my mind was going to start giving me hallucinations of Galen’s voice calling my name. What was next? A full mirage of the man’s strong figure?

Perhaps even Perdita trailing behind him?

I sighed and ignored the call.

“Mortimer! It’s me, where are you?”

Why did my heart have to hurt me so?

“Mortimer! Please, I cannot live my life without you. I know I hurt you, but I cannot let you sit on this throne and watch you die before my eyes!”

I blinked and turned toward the direction Galen’s voice was coming from. How did he know about the throne I was seated upon? How did he know I was dying a slow, painful death?

My eyes found him easily—he was a flame, and I was the moth drawn to it.

“Galen?” I eyed him suspiciously, still wary of my mind playing tricks on me in my depression to make me happier. Maybe it was even Death itself trying to keep me from collapsing and dying before my time.

“Mortimer! Thank God. What are you doing there?” He approached the bridge but stopped before he stepped onto the white wood.

“It’s where I am to be for the rest of my existence,” I said simply. “What are you doing here?”

Galen stopped short at my words. I wished we could have had a grand reunion of our souls. Which mine did ache for, but I refused to allow myself the pleasure. It was too late for me.

“I came to say that I am sorry, Mortimer.” He wrestled with his composure for a moment. “To rescue you. If you can find it in your heart to forgive me for my words and actions.” He knelt next to the river. “I didn’t realize. I judged you strictly by what you are, not who you are. I’m so sorry, Mortimer. Had I stopped for even a second at the time–had I let myself see beyond my own assumptions.”

I tried to observe his face carefully, but the water in my eyes made it hard to focus on him; tears slipped down my cheek. “You’re forgiven, Galen. Now please, leave, before you’re stuck here too.”

“Not without you.” He glared over at the other side of the river. As if a hard stare was enough to intimidate and argue with Death.

“Galen. I can’t leave, surely if you have come all the way to the Gravelands and seen the state I’m in, you can’t think I can leave this place. Someone must stand here, and it is my duty. I must stay here for my people.”

“Then I’m staying here too,” he said, unwavering and squaring his shoulders as he planted his feet into the ground.

“There’s nothing for you here!”

“There is everything for me here. Mortimer, I love you. I’m so sorry I ever let myself think otherwise.”

He extended his hand to me. Death help me, for a moment I considered taking a step toward him to let myself fall into his arms and hold myself against him while I cried from the pain.

“I can’t be with you here, Galen. Can’t you see?”

“I can see you, Mortimer. And I believe I can touch you too. That’s all I need from life.”

“You’ll die here too.” I sobbed.

“Then we’ll die together, my love.” Galen spoke with a confidence I didn’t feel, but I saw the shine in his eyes, the white glow of the bridge reflecting in his watery golden-brown eyes.

“I don’t understand.”

“I love you, Mortimer. And now I know the sacrifice your people have made for us to thrive. I understand what you meant now. Life and death must be equal. One cannot be without the other. I was wrong, about you, and about your people. But I pray that I am not too late, that my love for you can still be given. And together, we’ll be here, or there, or wherever else we might exist. It doesn’t matter where we go, as long as I’m with you.”

I smiled, salty tears trickling down my cheeks as I dared to reach for his hand, taking the steps down from my pristine white bridge to do so and join him on the other side. My pale hand slid into his darker one, his fingers clasped around mine, and I embraced him. He was real. He was here with me. It wasn’t a trick.

“My Galen, I love you. You showed me life.” Galen’s free arm wound around my waist, holding me close and kissing my temple.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Mortimer.”

“I need you to hold me, Galen.”

He did; bless him, he crushed me against his chest and surrounded me with his presence. He was so strong, so alive; he even smelled like life. I was busy memorizing the scent of him in case this illusion fell away when Death needed more of my life. I wanted to crawl into his armor and stay there until I eventually died and left this terrible place. My strong, handsome Cleric would protect me; I didn’t know how, but as long as Galen held me tight, nothing would touch me.

Galen tensed up, and Death help whatever it was that was attempting to break up our perfect union. I turned to see whatever it was that had alerted my Cleric to danger, and found myself staring up at a tall figure, cloaked in darkness. The figure held a silver staff with a white crystal ball at the top.

“Who are you?” I demanded, but the figure pulled back it’s hood and revealed a pristine white face, and moonlit hair. Her eyes were striking, one perfectly black and one white. I gasped and took to my knees before her. My heart understood who she was immediately.

She was Death.

“Mortimer? Oh My God,” Galen gasped, and then he was on his knees next to me, bowing his head with his hand over his heart. Did he know who this was too? Impossible, he worshiped Life. I chanced looking back up at the bridge to find two figures there now. The other one was a beacon of sunlight, bronze skinned and golden hair, with honey brown eyes that shone with energy and life.

“What is this?” I whispered, looking between the two smiling Gods.

Galen shook his head beside me. “That is Life. She who we worship, from whom all good comes.”

I nodded, that was blatantly obvious. She was stunning, exactly like the damned sun I loved so much, to my father’s dismay. “I feel I don’t need to explain the other one is Death. Whom we worship and offer sacrifice to keep the balance.” Galen nodded lightly and glanced at me, then back to the two Gods before us.

“The curse is lifted,” Death spoke.

“They understand,” Life replied.

“Curse?” I meekly rose to my feet. “Please, I don’t understand. What curse?”

Death turned to me, a soft curve of her lips on her face as she cast a series of shadows over the gray landscape. “Many centuries ago, humans believed if they resisted Death, that Life was more worthy to fight for. They clawed the earth for answers and magic to enhance the powers of Life. They feared me, denounced me as the plight of their lands. The balance was lost. To defend myself, I raised my armies of the underworld, and created a new cast. My Necromancers, to restore the earth back to its rightful balance.”

Life painted the landscape with rays of sunlight, illuminating a battle of light and dark. “They were not met with welcome arms and were instead banished to the ends of the world. Humans didn’t realize what Death was fighting to fix. My people have lived in lies ever since, but I am Life, it is not in my nature to destroy. I only hope that the seed of curiosity I planted would one day grow to experience the balance. I’ve planted so many seeds, but this one has finally grown to knowing.”

Death turned to Life, their eyes communicating something I didn’t understand. But I sensed Galen rise beside me, his hand slipping into mine to squeeze tightly. Death with her pale face and mismatched eyes turned back to me.

“You must go back. Tell all the humans of the balance you have. Speak to them of the needs of the living, and of the dead. Restore the balance and your world, your people will know the truth.”

“That Life cannot be without Death,” I murmured.

“And Death cannot last forever,” Galen finished. I laced our fingers and worried my bottom lip.

“But what about this? I have to stay here to satisfy Death and keep the world safe and keep the Necromancers able to use their magic, don’t I?” I gestured to the bridge, the strange gray world around us.

Death and Life had turned to leave us, but Life turned back to me with a wink, and if she were more human, I felt she would have giggled at me. Death considered me for a moment, and then stepped down to stand in front of me and settled one willowy hand on my shoulder.

“The curse of the Necromancer Prince has been lifted. Do not fear abandoning your throne, young one. Tell the people of the balance. The Truth. If you succeed, then never again will a Necromancer have to sacrifice themselves for this world.”

“How will we know we’ve succeeded?” Galen asked.

“Life is not without its mysteries.” Death smiled and stepped back up the bridge to join Life.

“Return, Prince, and spread the truth.” And as abruptly as they had appeared, they were gone. The ground shuddered beneath us, and then everything collapsed. Galen held me tightly as the gray world fell away.

*

I screamed as my life returned to my physical body. Which after a few days of my absence had frosted over and started to become an icicle instead of a living body. Forcing air back into my crystallized lungs burned, and let's not even talk about how dry my eyes were.

I was a husk of a man, and I would have coughed dust had I managed to go into my deathly sleep with my mouth open. I didn’t know how Galen fared, I was too busy trying to reanimate my own flesh and bones to keep track of his well-being.

I didn’t remember much after that. I must have passed out from the shock of it all. I woke up later on, tucked into my bed with a puddle of warmth around my legs. The sunlight didn’t penetrate the Gravelands, but I swore I felt the warm rays over my face.

My eyes creaked open, and much to my pain and surprise, it was sunshine that was spilling in my window from the outside. Not much, but far more than I’d ever seen before.

I croaked out what would be an “ow,” but it had more in common with a zombie trying to rub its vocal cords to make them work.

Galen’s face blocked the sunlight, and the beaming grin over his face made up for the fact that he removed the warm ray on my face. Perdita’s purring form crawled up to headbutt my chin the moment she wiggled her furry body in between us.

Yes, I still loved the sun even if it stabbed my eyes with its dagger-like brightness. I had been asleep for a week apparently. Well, it made sense. I had been quite dead while seated upon the throne. In a sense, anyway.

A few hours later, I was standing on my balcony, a warm cup of tea that was still too cold by Galen’s standards in my hands, and a heavy wool cloak around my shoulders as well as a pair of fur-lined shoes for my feet. I was sipping it gradually as my dear doctor and lover recommended. Perdita was sitting next to me, and I let one hand slip from my tea cup to stroke her white and black striped fur from head to tail.

“Thank you for taking care of my Galen, Perdita,” I said softly—my voice was still working on the whole being alive thing.

“She was pretty upset with me, you know.” Galen’s voice came from the doorway. I turned and smirked at him. My beautiful soldier of life.

“I’m certain she was, it must have been so upsetting for her to have to see you so upset.”

“I’m pretty sure she was angry at me for leaving her pillow behind.” Galen came up to my side and settled an arm around my waist. “Are you sure you feel strong enough to be standing?”

“I promise you I feel fine, Galen. I wanted to see the sunset.”

“There will be other ones.”

“Yes, but this is the first one I’ve ever seen in the Gravelands. I want to experience it with my people.”

“All right. I’ll stand here with you too.”

I grinned, put my cup of tea down, and hugged Galen tightly. “Excellent, you can stay here and warm me.” I pet Perdita with my free hand. He chuckled but humored me.

We took in the faint sunlight that started to drag across the western sky, pale yellows, vibrant pinks and purples, and the rich color red painting the clouds as the sun gradually dipped below the horizon and disappeared from sight. But even though the ball of heat had fallen, the colors still moved along the sky, turning to pale pinks, deeper violets, and blues.

It was absolutely stunning and reminded me of Death’s words.

I had no idea what the future held for us, or how we would go about healing this world and restoring the balance. But it didn’t matter for the moment. All that mattered now was Galen’s arms around me, Perdita purring under my hand.

I was alive, and Galen loved me. What more was there for my Necromancer’s heart desire?