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The wind of the North whispers a name, and all who hear it are frozen in fear. It is the name of the Necromancer. And it means death...

In the South, Linaera dreams of becoming a healer. A novice at the Academy of Magic, she skips most of her battle magic classes (because who needs battle magic anyway?) When her mentor, Terrin, decides to send her on a quest to the icy North, Linaera will have to learn far more than a simple fire spell to survive the ravenous undead.

Even so, Linaera will have to face greater dangers if she is to prevail. There is a dark secret hiding in the depths of the North; a secret that will make her stronger—or destroy her.

Magic and adventure beckon in the world of Arachadia. There’s dark humour for the cynics, and a sweet love story for the romantics. If you like stories about mages, bad-tempered ghosts, dragons, elves and thief guilds—you’ve come to the right place.

What readers are saying:

★★★★★ “It truly made me feel like I was seeing everything the characters were seeing; the detail is immaculate.” —Ashley Tomlinson

★★★★★ “Between the intricate plot, unique and fascinating characters, and a story line that held me riveted to the very end... this was one incredible ride.” —Teresa

★★★★★ “The Necromancer is an adventure through an old school fantasy world, and I enjoyed it immensely.” —Jayde Kemsley

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The mage ran through the forest, and the necromancer followed.

Eiliara was her name. She was a fool. She told herself as much: You fool, Eiliara; you arrogant, stupid fool. Determined to uphold justice, you doomed yourself. You can’t fight him—you’ll die here, on this forsaken mountain. What the mage told herself was true, but still she carried on running. Perhaps she thought she could evade him—though that was folly, as any halfway competent mage would have told her. In reality, she ran because she was a Silver Mage, and Silver Mages never give up.

The forest around her is shrouded by darkness; the moon, a graceful queen in her empyrean abode, shines a pale blue light. The necromancer’s laughter follows her laboured breathing and tired footsteps. His is a dark laugh, a mixture of both arrogance and madness.

“Trying to escape me, mage?” The mage pays him no heed; she continues running.

Then Eiliara feels it—a terrible emptiness, a howling being of death, given birth through unholy magic.

The Wraith, for it can be no other, soon outruns her. It moves with an impossible grace; it moves unhindered by physical imperfections or moral bounds. It tries to grasp her in its lethal embrace—to consume her with darkness.

Eiliara’s spell is but a whispered word, and yet its power is undeniable. There is a searing flash of white. There is a bitter tang of ozone, not such as might be caused by a storm, but the taste of powerful magic. The Wraith screams, and then it implodes.

The necromancer is no fool, Eiliara; he sent the Wraith only to toy with you. Her words prove correct. There is a powerful gust of wind; the necromancer then appears before her, darkness pooling at his edges.

He was, Eiliara had to admit, rather beautiful. His jaw was masculine—a faint hint of stubble graced it, perfectly trimmed and subtly seductive. His hair was obsidian black, and gleamed in that pale moonlit night. His countenance was that of an aristocrat; his bearing arrogant and forceful.

“My darling mage!” he begins. “To think you could destroy my faithful undead, and hope to avoid my notice. Your arrogance is remarkable. But I must admit,” he says mockingly, “that I do find it intriguing. Are you brave, or merely stupid?”

“Spare me your insults, necromancer, and do not pretend that you yourself are not privy to the allure of arrogance.”

The necromancer laughs. “Ah, but you see, my arrogance is justified; for I am the most powerful wielder of magic in this forsaken realm. You, Silver Mage, are no match for me.”

“Let us see if your words mean anything,” the mage taunts. Her attack is powerful and without warning. The world turns white; her power slams into the necromancer. She attacks with spells—spells of fire, of thunder, and of magics beyond the ken of ordinary battle mages.

The light fades, and the efforts of her assault are revealed. The necromancer stands tall, his expression amused—perhaps even bored. His eyes glow an ethereal blue; they are alit by the unholy power of his dark magic, and the madness of his disturbed mind.

“Is that really all the mage academies could teach you? I fear I shall not be terribly entertained.” His words are not in jest; the power he unleashes cannot be underestimated.

At first he attacks with ice—a coldness so profound, Eiliara feels as if all the stars of Arachadia had been extinguished. Then he attacks with fire: a fire unearthly and blue. Then with blackness. It is a darkness absolute, an abyss into the dead lands, a precipice where life hangs dearly for its continued existence.

Eiliara’s wards shudder, and her power is exhausted. She had been trained to fight dark magics, of course: indeed she had been trained to fight anything. But none of her skills—her mastery of spellcraft, her cunning ploys, her subtle tactics—are a match for him. The necromancer was no ordinary meddler of the dark arts; his was a power perfected by many years, great skill, and staggering ability.

“So this is it,” she says.

“Indeed; but consider yourself fortunate. You, at least, shall not see the institution you so cherish be destroyed by my power.”

“Do you truly believe you can destroy the mage academies?” She intends the words to mock, but they only show her fear. Eiliara knew the necromancer’s power—and nothing seemed beyond him.

“I do, and you know full well I can. My undead shall rise and smite down the living. They shall destroy your corrupt administration and the injustices you perpetrate. Death will bring a new beginning: Arachadia shall see the dawn of my rule, and a new dynasty of necromancers will be born.”

“You’re insane.”

“Perhaps. You would not be the first to say as much, and I doubt you will be the last. Indeed I find your accusation quite entertaining. After all: it is you who live in gilded halls while the poor suffer in their slums. It is you who gaze imperiously at their downtrodden faces, secure in the knowledge that your power renders you immune to whatever revolt the peasants may devise.”

“But surely you know that the queen is responsible for this! She sets the taxes, not we.”

“Oh, I know, and rest assured the nobility shall perish with you. But you are complicit. Your powers are used to demand loyalty from the army, and ensure the continued rule of the Sovereign. I know; I was part of it, once.”

“Who are you?” Eiliara whispers.

“Don’t you know? I’m the necromancer. I’m the being forgotten; the love destroyed by the ambitions of a fool.”

“Are you...” Eiliara searches her memory. She had lived for many years—sixty in total—and recalled much. The necromancer’s identity was a suspicion; if only it could be confirmed...

“Are you—”

“Enough talk. Prepare to die.”

Eiliara focused all of her power on the strength of her wards, but she kept a tiny reserve—the very edge of her power—towards a different purpose. As the necromancer attacked, she sent out a message.

Eiliara died on that cold night. Her screams found no solace in the inclement face of the mountain, nor in the necromancer’s forgotten conscience. But her message found its way.

A darkness rises; a necromancer haunts the mountains of the north. Years ago, he was betrayed. His vengeance cannot be quenched. He must be stopped—and his progeny kept safe. I am Eiliara, and I will be no more. Let my sacrifice not go in vain.

Where’s the Bonus Content?

When the Necromancer was republished in 2016, I decided to remove some of the ‘bonus content’ that was tangential to the story at large. But don’t worry; it has not disappeared. Instead, it has been published here on the blog—on top of additional bonus content hitherto unreleased. To see it, go to this page: The Necromancer—Bonus Material

1 comment:

  1. This was a fantastic read, I blew through it in five hours today and enjoyed ever single magically action packed minute of it! Alex Stargazer managed to include everything a book of this nature should and some things that I wasn't expecting. Don't believe me? Read the synopsis, then go get the freaking book and read it, cause it is great! The only reason I didn't give this five stars is because I honestly don't normally read books with this setting or time line, but beside that I fell as if this would have been just that much better if it were set in our era instead of in a land in which we once have known aka a land of Stargazer's imagination.

    Stargazer did a fantastic job with the characters, relationships and details through out all the twists and turns in this unpredictable plot line. Stargazer wove a very unique and complicated plot line and I was thoroughly impressed by the outstanding talent that this amazing sixteen year old has shown. I was constantly on the edge of my seat wondering what would happen next and who it would happen to. The mages, fae, elves, ghosts, humans, the undead and one complicated and misunderstood necromancer were a great mix and the lightly woven in romance was a great little addition as well.

    I was highly entertained, completely captivated, and entirely sucked into this amazing novel from the very start. The mystery, magic, action, romance, and complicated plot kept me hooked and reading all the way through. I definitely recommend this novel to anyone that likes all the aforementioned. Please go pick up this amazingly well written novel, like I said you will be completely entertained all the way through and absolutely in awe of the fact that it was written by a SIXTEEN year old!!