The Rise of House Dannegiatti, Book 1
Cairo Dannegiatti lives in a town built on the wings of a cove: Manazza. When Cairo and Mela lose their parents, Cairo takes up the honor of caring for the Manazzan dead, earning just enough money to keep him and his baby sister alive. But when little Mela-Mielle is ripped away, Cairo finds himself unable to cope—unable to so easily let death have its way. And so a dark hope blooms, and Cairo’s search for true resurrection begins.
A boy searches for magic to resurrect his sister,
and a girl chases a fool into the lair of the dead.
A holy warrior hunts a deadly necromancer;
and a dragon reconciles with the power in his blood.
A wife fights to free her spellbound husband,
but her spellbound husband fights back.
The journeys of each lead to the city of Cinterre, where a powerful necromancer weaves a terrible fate for the city, but light and fire, dark hope and pure love, relentless pursuit and an unremitting curse rise in his wake.
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Praise for The Necromancer
“Epic, complex, and devastating.” ~ Three adjectives cherry-picked over Thai food
“Reminiscent of Tolkien and Lewis.” ~ paraphrased from two sources.
The Story of The Necromancer
In the summer of 2012, I met a young man on the doorstep of a house. It was supposed to be the rendezvous point for a meeting he’d been working to set up for months. But it looked empty, so he poked his head inside and called out. The silent house did not reply, so he made his way to a study upstairs, where, once inside, he was ambushed by a woman with a silver sword. The Bane of the Dead.
Cairo interested me. He was young, amusing, and driven. I wanted to know why–I wanted to know what kind of person would find themselves in that kind of trap and then manage to charm their way out of it.
As is often the case, my dalliance with Cairo Dannegiatti got in the way of other work, so I set him aside once he was established and picked him back up sometime in the course of the next year. The novel evolved, as novels do, and became The Sword, the Drake, and the Necromancer, three stories of grief bound up in the same cataclysm. Over the course of the next four years, I worked The Sword, the Drake, and the Necromancer into a high fantasy I found compelling, thought-provoking, and fun. Other characters demanded that their stories be told, and the book became something I was genuinely proud of.
I spent years agonizing over whether to take the traditional route in publishing or to do it myself, and in August 2016, I decided I would do it myself. I’m a kinetic learner, and I love the tactile approach to study, the experience of learning with my hands. Bravely, Faithfully, Perhaps Successfully, right? I would be brave, doing this on my own; I would be faithful, doing this even though I was likely to fail; and maybe–just maybe–it would work out.
On September 16th, I got a call from one of my students. It was late, my wife was out and about, and I was playing League of Legends. I thought it was weird, but I was in the middle of something, so I let it go to voicemail and decided I would call or text him after the match was ended.
But then he called again.
My stomach felt heavy and my brain buzzed–something was wrong.
Brandon had collapsed during a race and died. He was a young man, another student of mine. He’d collapsed three months before, for no apparent reason, and been more embarrassed by it than anything else. The three months that followed had been a final trial, but he finished the race, so to speak, and he was gone.
It may seem odd–it may seem inappropriate, even–but my tribute to Brandon’s life was this book. It was written already, but it centered on grief and my inability in previous encounters with it to understand it. I knew that I had to follow through, and I knew I had to dedicate the book to his memory.
So here it is, The Necromancer. May it be as healing for you as it was for me.
S. A. Grove 