Nanarie's Disappearance... Part FourThe smell of decaying flesh mixed with dust and smoke filled the dimly lit room. The dark stone walls were barely visible in the candlelight of the study. Stone writing tables and bookshelves were laden with ancient tomes of necromantic magics.
"Lor a ussa vel'drav F'sarn haska ulu dos!" (("Look at me when I'm talking to you!")) shouted the master necromancer, obviously upset that his pupil's attention kept drifting to the tomes of knowledge. The elder seemed to sigh, "Nindol ul'hyrr d'ssinssrigg wun dosst karliik orn p'obon dosst streea." (("This idea of love in your head will mark your death."))
The young man had heard this lecture before. Love and kindness were tools for those too ignorant to know what they want or too cowardly to do what is necessary to obtain it. It was written in the books, the Will of Innoruuk, but he had always viewed them as words, not ideals. Now, he knew what love was...
"Yaith ptau'al!" (("Pay attention!")) came another shout from the elder necromancer, snapping his pupil from his daydream. "Nindol draeval dos spend xuil nindel ligrr orn elgg dos!" ((This time you spend with that girl will destroy you!"))
He listened to the elder as he always did, the powerful voice becoming a blur of ranting, but he did not truly listen. How could he? Whenever the old Teir'Dal even mentioned the name of his true love, she was all he could think about. Her silver hair, her crystal white eyes, her soft, pliable skin, her musical laugh and childish giggle, even her smell. She was the reason he breathed, she was the one thing he looked forward to at any given moment she was not at his side. Obviously his masters did not truly know of what they spoke. Love was not a tool, not an object used to manipulate another object. Love was the true fiber of his life, the mere thought of it tugged at every nerve in his body. Love was Nanarie...
Darkness...
'...rise, Apokolipz...'
'...you musst leave...'
The Apokolipz opened his eyes. A dark red glass bottle lay on its side on the floor, partially under the bed. A soft hiss of air was drawn into his lungs, and he coughed slightly from the intake of dust. Reaching out slowly, he grasped the empty wine bottle. "...pet..." came his whispered call, and a commotion was heard as the skeletal minion that still stood in the room's doorway moved to its master's side and helped him off of the floor. Regaining his feet, his other hand went to his head, holding the silken gown that was Nanarie's, as his undead slave retrieved his staff from the floor. The necromancer blinked a few times, ignoring the whipers of the spirits. Yes. He was still in her room. He looked at the gown and then the empty bottle. Raising the bottle to his nose, he could smell the wine it once held, and then he tipped it upsidedown to pour out the last few drops... Fresh. The wine bottle had been opened recently. He placed the bottle on the bureau, and looked down at the opened drawer. It was empty, aside from a light film of dust, not the thick layer that covered almost everything else in the house. Looking closer, her could see that something had been in the drawer, due to the rectangular patch that was clean. His eyebrows pinched in thought at his new findings. "...yes, she has been here..." he whispered aloud. He turned to see his minion looking at something on the bed. He followed its eyeless gaze to see some sort of parchment sticking out from under one of the plump pillows. He sat on the soft bed, laying the gown beside him, and retrieved the parchment. The parchment still had a wetness to it, and it was crumpled, as if held in a person's hand too long... her hand. He could smell her sweat on it as he slowly opened it up so it could be read. Pausing, he looked around the room again, and his eyes then searched the bed he sat on. She must have slept here, not more than two days ago. His hand gently swept over the sheet, feeling for warmth, and then the pillow. There, he found a cold spot. His hand went over it again, and then lifted it from the bed to his face. Her scent was strong on it, intoxicating, and he touched it to his face.
Her words came back to him.
The necromancer opened his ice-blue eyes, which were once again cold and dead, replacing the pillow and retrieving the parchment. He folded the paper neatly in half and rose from the bed. His pet handed him his staff as he passed it, on his way to the door. His eyes were cold, his posture stiff. He went to the stairs and descended them with ease to the first floor. Moving towards the front door, he paused, his eyes locked onto another empty bottle, which was evidently discarded, tossed to the corner where it now lay. A moment's thought, and his eyes searched the room. Too many footsteps, his trail, his pet's, hers, he couldn't make out a specific path in them now. The rat's corpse still lay where his undead minion had left it near the fireplace...
Several moments passed until the Apokolipz blinked again, lost in thought once more. His gaze was lost and distant, even 'soft'. "...soon, my love.." he whispered distantly. Turning, he made his way towards the door again, stopping in the doorway among the remnants that still hung there. He placed the neatly folded parchment and the tattered silk gown into his magical pouch. "...soon..."