The group arrived two hours earlier, rowing themselves to shore.
They were not tossed onto the sand unconscious, like the others usually were. They came here willingly, and they had been walking around the island. Queca had stalked them. Were they hunters? Soldiers or mercenaries? The previous ones had failed, and the city had stopped sending them for many ten-years. Is this a new attempt? Yet she could see no weapons; their bodies obscured by a plain robe, their hoods raised. Now they were dangerously close to her lair, and still she could not discern any motives these humans had, if they had any.
Queca licked her lips. It was strange, certainly. But now, hunger fueled her reason. Like the rest of the exiles, this was just another meal. Another pariah dumped here, a monster fed to another.
"I am here to talk." A clear voice cut through the silence. The humans had stopped. One was looking at her direction.
Queca paused. Trap? Possibly. But any weapons they had hidden will never cut her hide on the first blow. Poison was ineffective. They were completely at her mercy. But if they knew she was here, why didn't they attack first? Was this an attempt at parley? Or an announcement of willing sacrifice? Whatever it was, it promised entertainment. There were other humans like this. Different in looks and size. Different gender, sometimes. Some very thick. Some very thin. But all smart. Very smart.
Through chattering teeth and teary eyes, they still believed in the power of words.
The human language was fascinating to her, she realised. Different sounds make different words, and different words together make different meanings. The smart ones kept talking and talking. Queca made them do it. She wanted to learn. Haltingly, she then began to talk back. First it was only words. Then conversations. Then debates.
Eventually, she learnt all there was about the human language, their city, and their culture. And the final thing she learnt about humans was that the smart and dumb brains were all equally as sweet and filling.
"Queca," the voice rang out again, ringed with adamance. "I am here to talk. Reveal yourself."
Fool, she mused. She stood up, her massive girth casing a large shadow behind her. She was easily thrice the size of their largest. If this was an attack, they would be dispatched easily.
"This group seems so eager," she said, approaching the group. She flicked her tongue playfully at them. "The least I could do is to hear you out, hmm?"
As she neared, something felt... wrong. A deep unease began to bloom within her, growing with each step. It was then that she began to realise something.
There was no sound. Not the wind, nor the grass rustling. There was no screeching of night insects or creatures. The crashing of the waves was barely a whisper in the distance. All she could hear was the heartbeats or herself, and a human's.
But there were seven standing in front of her.
Queca stopped, amusement shifted to intense distrust as she glowered at the humans.
There was a slight chuckle from one of the humans, presumably from the same one that had been talking.
"Oh, this is priceless. The Glittering Kingdom's pet hell beast; afraid of some humans."
"You," she hissed, the sound escaping sharply through her lips. "You are not like the others. Their hearts are still, yet they still stand, and even walk! How? Tell me! Tell me or I'll make your deaths painful!"
"Oh, these one's are already pretty familiar with Death, fortunately." The man at the front made a small sign with his hands. The rest snapped to attention, the pale faces finally unshrouded by shadow. Another sign, and the largest human began to lower his hood, letting the cloth fall to his shoulders. The moonlight caught his face; His dull, unfocused eyes glowed dimly in the light. There were stories of this. Legends the smart men told. Queca knew what they were.
Undead. And that man speaking is their Master.
"A...
Necromancer," she spoke, pausing for a moment to remember the correct term. "They sent a necromancer to kill me."
"No one sent me. And I am not here to kill you," The man answered, stepping ahead of the group. "What I am here for is to forward a... proposition."
Queca listened silently. Many tried to reason with her. Tried bribing her with gold, livestock and other valuables. All were dead. But listening to their offers were entertaining. This one should be no different.
"... Would you like to be a god?"
Queca, for the first time since mastering the human language, was speechless. This was beyond what she expected the man would say. And beyond what any human could provide, necromancer or not.
"Madness," she hissed, "You speak nonsense and lies!"
"Am I, though? The city already regards you as an unofficial avatar of death," The human replied, waving her outburst away. "Old wives whisper your name to get their children to sleep, and some in the royal courts use you as a threat to get others to obey them. And that's where all these come from," He waved at the bones that littered the island, " Criminals, liars, cheats. The betrayers and the betrayed. And all that feeding had got you fat. And lazy. And very vulnerable." There was an edge to that last word.
"Are you threatening me?"
He laughed. "No, not me. The city. I've heard talk that they're finally going to do away with you. That this is no longer the age of monsters , but of men. Soon legions of armed soldiers would come for you. Yes, you might be able to fight off one or ten. But what about a hundred? Or a thousand?"
He left the question like a blade hanging in the air. Queca grew silent as she mused over this. Yes, this is a very possible scenario. But what can she do?
"And that's when my plan comes in," The man announced, "to benefit both me and you."
As Queca listened, she grew more and more convinced. The plan was simple, but devious. By using her renown as the avatar of death itself, she could gain influence and even control the royalties. The human's necromantic arts would serve as confirmation of her divine status. By using an artifact he had, he could contain her beastly form in a human shell. She would be accepted into the highest courts. Have the whole of the Glittering Kingdoms within their grasp. The only catch was that he would be her 'advisior' in the court, the one truly pulling the strings of the kingdom. The man's eyes shone as he told this, the promise of power driving him into a trance of words.
But Queca did not care for that. What she was most enchanted by was the promise of more knowledge. The talk with the human had left her curious. He was proof that necromancy did exist. Then there should exist other forms of magic, as once told to her by one of the smart men. If that was true, then why not divinity? It was something to reach for.
And this little man was the gateway to get there. By any means necessary.
"Human," Queca spoke after an extended period of contemplation, " though I still am wary, I will trust in your plan. What is your name?"
"Ferrol. So we are in agreement?" His excitement was barely contained in his voice.
Queca thought for a moment. There was still one last thing...
"Who else other than the humans posses the knowledge of magic?"
"Hmm. I'm not sure," Ferrol answered, scratching his chin. "The elemental secrets were only kept by the oldest of races, and humans are relatively young. The dwarves are a very physical race. Dumb as the rocks they dig. So are the kobolds and goblins; not very intelligent. So I guess that leaves us with the elves."
Queca gave him a many-toothed grin. Madness began to swim in her eyes.
"Then when we are in control, they are the ones we will invade first."
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