The Necromancer

Chapter 8

If Karakas was surprised to find himself summoned by his favourite pupil, he didn’t show it. As Karakas seemed to gather himself, Harry brushed his thumb across the amulet a few more times to summon his family, since he was sure they’d all desperately wanted to learn the truth as well. It was a little cramped to have his entire family squeezed around him in the small tent, but they all seemed to realize that Karakas being there meant they would finally get some answers.

“It’s all my fault,” Karakas muttered while Harry waited patiently for him to find the right words. “I thought I was saving magic, but I was only saving that monster.”

Harry pursed his lips, tempted to force Karakas to hurry up already, but understanding that some explanations simply took time.

“For Merlin’s sake, man, just spit it out!” Auntie Eustice, as it turned out, wasn’t nearly as patient as her great-nephew.

Karakas swallowed while giving Auntie Eustice a brief, wary glance. “He used me, like he used everyone. The Sun Goddess alone knows for how long. Decades. Perhaps even centuries.”

Harry leaned forward to give Karakas a piercing look. “You mean Rylan?”

“That’s what he calls himself nowadays, yes.” Karakas stared at the floor, ignoring Harry entirely, lost in his own memories it seemed. “I first knew him as Arwan the Ancient, though I only recently pieced together the truth about Arwan’s identity and schemes.”

“What schemes?” Patroclus demanded in a harsh voice not out of place on a former Auror interrogating a suspect.

Karakas chuckled, but it was a brittle, bitter sound. “He had everyone fooled, everyone wrapped up in his own selfish plans, and none even knew it.”

“Perhaps a little less cryptic,” Euphemia said with all the kindness in the world.

“Arwan is a necromancer the likes this world has never before seen,” Karakas said, his faraway gaze finally sharpening as looked around the tent. “But he is not nearly as powerful or talented at other branches of magic. He’s the one who gave me the idea for starting a magical school, and he’s the one who encouraged me to create a ritual to summon magical children from other worlds.” Karakas looked down for a second, his face tightening up in a grimace. “I’ve always been very good at summoning, so creating a ritual like that was within my capabilities.”

“What did Rylan need all those magical children for?” Harry asked, unable to contain himself because that was something that he’d wanted an answer to for a long time.

“Immortality.” Karakas paused, as though giving everyone else a moment to let that sink in. “That’s what everything has been about. It was Arwan that started the mistrust between warlords and sorcerers, to use that as an excuse for him to hunt down magical children. He needs young, magical children to fuel the ritual that keeps him youthful and immortal.”

“He ran out of kids,” Harry blurted, sitting up a little as everything fell into place and suddenly made sense.

“Exactly,” Karakas said with a proud little smile. Even in death he seemed happy to see Harry learn, as he’d always been in life. “Arwan worked his way through the magical population of Santika for what I suspect might have been centuries, and eventually he couldn’t find enough magical children to keep himself youthful. When I met him, he truly was at death’s door.”