Ghost Undying by Jonathan Moeller

Author:Jonathan Moeller
Language: eng
Format: mobi, azw3, epub
Tags: Science Fiction & Fantasy, Horror, 90 Minutes (44-64 Pages), Dark Fantasy, Greek & Roman, Fantasy, Myths & Legends, Historical, Genre Fiction, Literature & Fiction
Publisher: Jonathan Moeller
Published: 2013-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

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“Why?” said Sicarion, two weeks later.

He been absorbed by the Moroaica’s translations of certain Maatish necromantic spells. The magi of the Magisterium had possessed considerable mastery of necromantic science, at least until the disaster at Caer Magia. But the Maatish knowledge of necromancy was far beyond that of the Magisterium, and certainly far beyond Sicarion’s comprehension.

But he understood some of the spells, and thought he could use them to augment his own sorcery.

And, perhaps, to take revenge upon the Moroaica.

“A question,” said the Moroaica, “customarily has both a subject and a verb.”

“Why are you still doing this?” said Sicarion.

“This?” said the Moroaica, examining the glyphs she had drawn upon the wall. “I am testing to see if the boundary between the netherworld is more easily pierced in Malarae. I fear it is not. I shall have to find another location for the great work. Marsis, perhaps. Or New Kyre.”

“No,” said Sicarion. “Why are you still pursuing this great work of yours, whatever it is?”

The Moroaica did not answer, her eyes upon the glowing hieroglyphs.

“You were victorious,” said Sicarion. “Old Maat was utterly destroyed. The Kingdom of the Rising Sun once ruled half the world, and now it is dust. Among the commoners of the Empire, I doubt one man in a thousand has ever heard the name of Maat. So what do you seek now? Power? Conquest?”

“Justice,” said the Moroaica, her voice soft.

“Justice?” said Sicarion with a derisive laugh. “There is no such thing.”

“No,” said the Moroaica. “But there should be. After Maat burned, I wandered the world for a time without purpose. I had avenged my suffering, the suffering of all the slaves of the Kingdom of the Rising Sun, and cast down the pharaohs and the Great Necromancers. Yet I saw that it was not enough. Everywhere I traveled in the world, I saw tyrants and slaves, the cruel and the strong oppressing the weak and helpless. Everywhere! So I went to work. I cast down more tyrants and threw down more cruel kings. But it was not enough. It was never enough. There were always more.”

“That is simply the nature of life,” said Sicarion with an indifferent shrug. “The strong rule, and the weak suffer…”

“It should not be!” said the Moroaica, spinning toward him in fury. “The world is a torture chamber. I saw this, over and over again, as I traveled. But why? Why is this so?”

“It has always been thus,” said Sicarion. “Even in nature, the animals are divided into predators and prey.” He had been a predator, reveling in his kills and growing rich from them.

Then the Moroaica had found him and taken his sword hand.

“Bah!” said the Moroaica with disgust. “You are like a pig rooting around in its own filth, too blind to see the greater world beyond the walls of your pen. Why is the world a prison of pain? Why?”

Sicarion shrugged. “Men make it that way.”

“No.” Her voice was a furious hiss. “I came to understand the truth at last. The gods made this world, Sicarion, and created mankind.

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