The Necromancer

By Gord Elliston

While on the lam in Cuba, Byron's wife Ry is shot by his assailant. Distraught Byron is now on a mystical aviation odyssey to join Ry in the land of Hades.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Apr 12, 2011
• ISBN: 9781257558605

Book preview

The Necromancer

THE NECROMANCER

The Necromancer

This story is fiction.  The characters are fictional. The events are purely fantasy. Any resemblance to anyone is coincidental. Any one claiming to be portrayed in this farce ought to be ashamed of them self for admitting any connection with such nonsense.

Copyright © by

Gord Elliston

All rights reserved.

Cover design by

Jeff Elliston

Published by

M A Elliston. Toronto, 2014

ISBN 978-0-557-40380-6

Also by

Gord Elliston

Betsy’s Revenge

Escape From The Gated Community

The Headless Coachman

The Seagull Wore Glasses

The Treasure of the Haunted House

Artwork in Short Film

The Woodcarver and The Fiddler on YouTube by Microfilmco

Feature Documentary Film

Associate Producer

Eccentric Eclectic, 2014

THE NECROMANCER

AUTHOR

GORD ELLISTON

A cane is just a stick to assist one at traversing this earth, which we walk upon. It could also be used as a weapon or in some cases as a ceremonial instrument. The raising of a cane by a religious or cult leader could have the masses on their knees praying to their deity.

A sly magician would move his magic stick about to distract his audience while his sleight of hand was tricking them into believing what he wanted them to believe. If you were to bend the handle of a cane into a hook it could help to control the herd. But put a symbol on the top, raise it in the air and say some special words and you may control the whole congregation.

The Necromancer stick in this story is a cane carved from the trunk of a pine tree that was cut down and used as a Christmas tree. When the holiday season was over the branches were removed and the Necromancer's mask was carved into it.

The character named Byron in this story thought he was a dying man so he used The Necromancer stick’s power to visit the other side, and then he came up with a scheme to raise money. His life had changed but he had no way of knowing that his good fortune would lead him on an odyssey running for his life and trying to reunite with his beautiful wife.

Byron's personal pilot, and good friend, found The Necromancer stick useful while he was searching for Byron's treasure. Ned, the owner and operator of the Magnetville International Airport, kept his seaplane beautiful, and fit for flying. When a prowler was seen lurking about, Ned called upon the spirit of a deceased pet to patrol his airport grounds. He was flying illegally with an expired pilot’s license, but found a way around that inconvenience when he discovered he might be able to use The Necromancer stick to get airborne.

An old native-Indian medicine man said he could give the stick magical powers for a price, but unwittingly brought on troubles for his own tribe. To dabble in the dark side was fun for a while for this whacky bunch of characters, but it came with a price. The Necromancer walking stick has since been returned to its spot amongst a large collection of my canes, and it sits very patiently waiting for its next gambit.

Chapter 1

Type of Magic

Chapter 2

Up the Trent

Map

Chapter 3

Next Stop Maskinonge River

Chapter 4

Cook’s Bay

Chapter 5

Life on a River

Chapter 6

Byron’s New Business

Chapter 7

On the Run

Chapter 8

Lost in the Caribbean

Chapter 9

To the Town of Carneyville

Chapter 10

Deserted Camp

Chapter 11

Called to the Resort

Chapter 12

Magnetville Airport

Chapter 13

Return of the Assassin

Chapter 14

Now Let’s Discus my Fee

Chapter 15

To The Land of Hades

Chapter 16

Carlos the Collector

Chapter 17

A Night at the Airport

Chapter 18

A Treasure Hunt

Chapter 19

Magnetville Airport

Chapter 20

Carlos is out for Revenge

Chapter 21

To The Magnetawan River

Chapter 22

The Water’s Edge Resort

Chapter 23

Angry Carlos

Chapter 24

Grumpy Old Fisherman

Chapter 25

You Must Find the Medicine Man

Chapter 26

Red Neck Fred

Chapter 27

The Council

Chapter 28

To The Island on a Cushion of Air

Chapter 29

The Medicine Man

Chapter 30

Nothing like a Shotgun Blast

Chapter 31

Watching the Sun Set on Lake Simcoe

Chapter 32

Your Magic Stick is ready

Chapter 33

Flight to Magnetville

Chapter 34

Blue Moon

Chapter 35

To The Holland River

Chapter 36

Jacksonville Landing North

Chapter 37

The Sandy Lake Resort

Chapter 38

Follow the Clues

Chapter 39

Grave Robbing by the Light of the Moon

Chapter 40

Journey to the Other Side

Chapter 41

Nasty People

Chapter 42

Big Trouble in Jacksonville Landing North

Chapter 43

Good Boy Lucifer

Chapter 44

Giorgio and Jack

Chapter 45

Grumpy Old Fisherman Strikes Again

Chapter 46

The Muskoka River

Chapter 47

Urgent Business on Georginavlle Island

Chapter 48

Back To the City

Chapter 49

Sam Opens the Sarcophagus

Chapter 50

To Magnetville to Get a Squirrel

Chapter 51

Halloween Night in Jacksonville Landing North

Chapter 52

Heading Home

THE NECROMANCER

Chapter One

Type of Magic

In my collection of canes and walking sticks stands, ‘The Necromancer’. It’s a walking stick about forty-two inches tall, or one hundred and six centimeters, with a spooky face carved as a mystical mask.  The shaft is stained black and the carved face with wrinkly scaly skin is sealed with orange shellac. A former Christmas tree, pine I believe. It was first decorated in its tree form for one spiritual event and then carved and finished as a cane with an eerie mask for another.

This mythical Necromancer’s mask that was carved into The Necromancer stick originated in medieval times. They were used by mediums to enter the other side, the land of the dead. For a fee the charlatan would promise to deliver a message from the world of the living to his clients’ deceased loved one. The mask was an inanimate object made from wood, clay or paper-mâché. It really depended on the theatrics and persuasiveness of the user to convince its poor superstitious sucker to part with his or her money. From medieval days to the present, the power of the mask comes from within the individual using it and the one he is trying to convince.

Necromancy; a type of magic that the middleman or medium uses to call upon the spirit of a recently deceased person. The oldest scripture of necromancy is in Homer’s Odyssey (circa 700BC). Odysseus, ruler of Ithaca, is guided by the Sorceress, Circe, on a voyage to Hades, the underworld, for the purpose of divination.  It’s a ten-year odyssey trying to return home to his wife, Penelope, and son, Telemachus, after a ten-year war at Troy.

The most famous biblical necromancer was the Witch of Endor. The story says that she was instructed by King Saul to summon the ghost of the recently deceased, Samuel the Prophet. Old Samuel was so annoyed with the King for waking him from his sleep that he predicted the King's defeat against the Philistines. The King was wounded in battle the next day and committed suicide.

The following tale is about this cane and how individuals utilized the powers they were capable of bringing forth to manipulate their future.

Byron was a man who was dealing with his own mortality and the path he chose, with the aid of The Necromancer stick, one with a Necromancer's mask carved into the handle. It came with a warning that advised the user to be very careful of what you may seek, for to use its magic you may have to pay a price.

I first learned of this eerie character from a gentleman who called himself Francois, a flamboyant steadfast gentleman with a thick black mustachio and a soul patch below his lower lip. He wore a small cap tilted to one side and fine scarf around his neck. Francois owned a gallery in town that displayed and sold plaster casts in a mystical theme. He said his biggest sellers were plaster angels that had a little metal loop on the back so the proud new owners could hang them on their walls of their kitchen or their study.

I happened to stumble into his open doorway one day while trying to escape from a downpour. Once inside I couldn't leave as it was like stepping into a fantasy world. I explored every corner, nook and cranny of his store while waiting for it to stop raining outside. Francois left me alone to wander about and only after an hour or so he asked me if there was anything he could help me with. I thanked him and said, I'm just escaping the rain. You have a very remarkable store. Damn! Look at the time, an hour and a half just slipped by as I was browsing.

Francois was a pleasant man to speak with and very knowledgeable about all his goods. There was no pressure to buy anything from him but I did purchase a six-inch tall plaster replica of a church gargoyle from him. When I finished paying he gave me a book of all his items and we talked as he accompanied me on the way out of his gallery. I thanked him for the most interesting time that had just past me by and then walked away.

As I slowly strolled along the sunny sidewalk I opened his booklet and read the ancient folklore that accompanied each piece in his store. I boarded an uncrowded bus, it wasn't rush hour yet so I had a comfortable window seat with no-one beside me. I was getting drawn deeper and deeper into the booklet. It was almost as interesting as perusing through his gallery. I had to extract myself from the pages to look out the window every now and then so I would not miss my stop.

I came across a chapter about the eerie Necromancer's mask. In it there was an explanation of what the masks were used for. There wasn't a picture, just a very detailed description telling of a robed figure with scaly wrinkly old skin and penetrating eyes with no pupils. I was so engrossed with it that I carved my own mask on the top of a walking stick, and when it was completed I took it to the studio of Francois. I handed it to him then walked around his gallery while he looked it over. I heard him say something and turned to see him gazing into its eyes. He was chanting some strange words from a book that I could not understand then he seemed to snap out of his trance. Francois then looked my way and said, It's the middle of December, it hasn't snowed yet and business has been a little slow. Would you mind if I displayed your cane in my window for a couple weeks? I have a feeling it will capture anyone who looks into its eyes and lead them through the doorway.

I agreed and he placed it in his storefront window that holiday season to attract customers. It did attract a lot of people and controversy; some even went into his store and spent a lot of money. It also attracted those who had heard of the spirit stick and did not want to spend a cent but just had to go to see it for themselves. Most were amused and appreciated the art form but some of the more narrow minded and superstitious beings insisted it was evil and should be removed from the public’s view for their own good. Some even made threats.

The police department had a video camera installed to watch anyone approaching his store after Francois reported receiving threatening calls from some individuals complaining about the eerie Necromancer's mask. Some self-righteous window painters were caught on video spray painting Francois’ store front and were charged. The extra money he made from the Necromancer display was spent to have the spray paint removed from his studio window. After the holidays, Francois returned my walking stick to me.

His shop did not have a sign outside of his store, he didn’t really need one. The mysterious façade somehow lured the curious through the doorway into a shop of fantasy. Big eyes everywhere were staring at you and there weren't surveillance cameras except for the police camera on the hydro pole across the street. The plaster lions, gargoyles, demons and fairies would follow you throughout the store. Everywhere you went in his shop there was a pair of eyes looking at you. The Green man, one of my favorites, is a human face made of, or surrounded by, carved leaves. They have been used for centuries to decorate churches and sometimes found on garden stonewalls. The earthly glare reminds us to be friendly with this beautiful planet that provides so much to sustain us and enhance our stay here on earth. A passer-by that just happened to look into the window would catch a glimpse of all the eyes staring at them and would be immediately drawn into the shop to investigate further.

THE NECROMANCER

Chapter Two

Up the Trent

Byron, a co-worker of mine was one of the nicest and most odd people I have ever had the pleasure of working with. A big smile and a brief update on politics, then a high five and a fraternity type handshake was his greeting. He was about five-foot-ten and had a bald head, but he wore a captain’s hat with a little ponytail sewn into it. When the hat came off so did his ponytail. Yes he had a good sense of humor as well. Byron was a happy man, always a big smile. His short trimmed beard couldn’t hide those chipmunk cheeks of his.

Byron was a spiritual man, not a churchgoer, but he did respect people’s religions, whatever their beliefs. Byron thought of the living earth which he walked upon as his deity. He did however believe in the afterlife. He felt that when his body finished its life cycle his spirit would move on, maybe drift around for a while until it found a new life form at the beginning of its life cycle to latch on to. He wasn’t really too particular about what type of life form he was destined to take over. He was hoping an aquatic migratory bird as he loved flying especially. Byron was however willing to accept his fate and make the best of it. He was a strong man that did not give up easily.

Byron and his lovely wife, Ry, lived in a ten-foot by twenty-six-foot aluminum houseboat on the Holland River. They were not far from a small village in the Holland Marsh that was named St. Albans by the early settlers. Prior to that, it was a canoe launch for the aboriginal tribes of the area, a trading post for a northern fur company, and a defense post between the old town of York and Georgian Bay during the war of 1812. Byron bought his boat somewhere at the east end of Lake Ontario in about 1975.

It was early May and their plan was to have a leisurely cruise up the Trent River system to Lake Simcoe. They stopped in every small historic town they journeyed by, checking out the shops and museums. They would purchase only special pieces they found along the way as they had limited space on their house boat and they had a long way to travel to get to their destination.

One very important stop for Byron and Ry was near Stoned Lake. They wanted to see the very historic petroglyphs carved by the ancient aboriginal people of that area. Some of the rock carvings they saw were estimated to have been scratched or carved into the marble over one thousand years ago. The very spiritual learning marble rock carvings are of turtles, snakes, birds, humans and other images of everyday life. It is the native people's history books carved in stone by their ancestors. The carvings are a record of a past way of life as the animals they hunted were for food, clothing and tool making. When they finished their tour of the sacred rock carvings they boarded their boat and scratched another one off their bucket list.

It was a long day for Byron and Ry. They did a lot of walking in the park but they enjoyed every minute of it. They untied their boat and cast off to spend the night tied off at a very small unnamed island close to Cotton-ball Island. Byron and Ry were aware of bear encounters and they usually carried a bear bell when hiking in remote areas. Byron had a loaded rifle on board that he kept by the door for easy access. It was a long cold winter and the bears needed food. On an island near Algonquin Park a bear devoured two people that were camping in a tent early that summer. Byron and Ry kept their food and garbage sealed tight and locked the doors at night.

Ry cast a line in the water and caught a trout to barbecue for dinner. They took the grill from their barbecue and got in their dingy and rowed a-shore.  Byron took along his gun and kept it within reach. Ry set up a few rocks to support the grill and gathered wood and got a fire going. She placed a couple foil wrapped potatoes in the fire while Byron scraped the scales and filleted the fish. They brought along a blanket to sit on but ended up naked and wrapped in each other’s arms while the potatoes cooked. By the time they had hot coals to cook the fish, the sun was slipping behind the trees and the mosquitoes were starting to join in. They got dressed and cooked the fish. Ry brought foil to wrap the hot food in so they doused the fire and climbed into the dingy and rowed back to their houseboat to enjoy the potatoes and the catch of the day. Byron and Ry were very tired after their meal and a glass of wine or two so they went to bed to get an early start in the morning.

At the crack of dawn Byron was up and had the coffee brewing. The aroma woke Ry so she got out of bed and made them some breakfast while Byron checked the map to find a marina to get a propane tank filled. McCrackenpot Marina is our next destination, Byron said. After a two hour cruise Byron had the propane and the boat fuel tanks filled and then they were off again. Their next Stop would be Jack Knife Island. Byron said he hoped it was deserted so they could have another evening of wild sex in the wilderness. It was late that afternoon when they arrived and Ry was sleeping in the cabin. Byron climbed into the dingy and rowed to shore to tie off their boat.

After he secured the house boat to a tree he decided to scout around the small island before rowing back. He walked through a bushy area then in a clearing he came across someone’s crop of two meter high pot plants. He decided to pull out a few stalks to take back to their boat. As he was walking away with his weed he heard the unmistakable sound of a lever action rifle being cocked and a man’s voice saying, Now where the fuck do you think you’re going with that.

Byron slowly turned around to see a mean looking guy with a very scruffy beard and a denim vest not far behind him with his rifle sitting in his crossed arms. On his fore arm was a tattoo that said Bruce. Byron said, Nice tattoo. Is Bruce your name or your boyfriends? He then laughed but Bruce didn't. He jabbed Byron in his stomach with the muzzle of his rifle. Byron was winded slightly