Realm at the Edge of the multiverse

by B G Mitchell

  She left her room, took a trip downstairs, and stopped by another door which she knocked on gently and heard a voice saying, “Enter.” She did that to find her sister, Althenian, sitting on her bed with a large tome in her lap. She had spent most of the time back in her bed recovering both physically and mentally from her ordeal, but she had tried to do something except sleep and was now in the process when she felt strong enough of helping writing up the current history of the city and helping Lucinda with the odd piece of work.

  She cleared her throat and said in a tone that conveyed more worry than she was hoping to let on, “The dwarves have come with supplies. Do you want to come down and see?”

  “That’s good,” she replied in a faraway tone, indicating that the message had not really reached her logic processing centre yet. “I think I may have found something.”

  “An easy way to defeat an army of undead monsters led by a mad sorcerer?” replied Lucinda, not missing a beat.

  She turned and saw her sister give her a smile. “No, a way to summon the human again. This ancient book on summoning not just demons but beings from other dimensions, including his world, but it is a rather odd spell. It requires a lot of power and a powerful sorcerer. It basically just takes the soul across and creates a copy of the body and anything the body happens to have with it, hence the need for very high level magic.”

  Lucinda looked thoughtful for a moment before replying, “Well, we will see what we can do after the battle. Now come, let us see these new dwarven weapons. You need to get out into the fresh air.”

  Althenian looked at her for a moment. “You do realise we are deep underground, right?”

  “You know what I mean. Now come.”

  The Grand necromancer stood next to the entrance as the skeleton army, all now suited up in armour and carrying swords, bows, maces, and pike staffs, marched past. Behind them were about a thousand orc warriors, led by a chief called Gargamer, who had sworn loyalty to him. It was the only tribe he had managed to convince to join him. The others did not even want to speak to him, no doubt, he thought to himself, spooked by the heavy magic he was now using.

  The chief came and stood next to him as the warriors passed. He was an elder orc who had a pair of tusks poking out of the bottom of his chin, which was heavily scarred and had long black hair with streaks of grey in it. He was also wearing a metal chest plate and tattered, brown pants. He had an old sword attached to his belt and looked at his men with a certain sense of pride. He also doubled as one of the main guides as in his youth he had been captured by the elves but had managed to escape.

  Following that was a group of human mercenaries spurned on with the promise of dark elf slaves and all the plunder they could carry. A rider appeared next to him. It was the head of the mercenaries, a short man whose one feature was a dark, shaggy beard. He also had black hair and small, beady eyes. He was wearing the armed chest plate and no helmet. He also had a nicer sword still in the scabbard at his side. His name was Hasenberg, and the grand necromancer knew where his loyalty lay, which was as with other mercenaries the man who has the most money.

  There were only two hundred other mercenaries. They acted like shock troops. He had been told by Hasenberg that they were the best of the best. At the rate he was paying them, he certainly hoped so. Gargamer tapped him on the shoulder and pointed up to the hills. It took him a moment to see what Gargamer’s orc eyes managed to spot, but he finally managed to make out a small shape watching their army march past. Hasenberg spoke in a rather gruff voice that sounded like he had smoked too many pipes.

  “You want me to send some men up, sir?”

  The grand necromancer shook his head. “No.” He suspected they were spies sent by another wizard. Gargamer pointed to another spot and there was another humanoid shape and some movement.

  Shareriza looked down at the figures below. She had wanted to make sure she had accurate information to give her contacts. Part of her felt uneasy. As the last of the troops left, all hope for peace left with them. The feeling among the streets was rather tense as the wizards were marshalling their private armies in preparation for the defence of the realm, but even some of those wizards had started speaking in hushed tones about the new elven inventions. Also how trustworthy an army of the undead was.

  Even during this time, the king still stayed locked in his castle. Shareriza could sense change was about to occur. There were larger players than the grand necromancer in this game, and that worried her. What worried her even more was the small number of orcs. She had managed to ask around in a non-suspicion manner and found that there seemed to be less and less orcs around, and most were making their way back to the untamed waste, a sign possible that the orcs knew which way the wind was blowing.

  She looked down the slope and saw two figures still standing there also taking note of the army below. They were dark elves, a male and a female. They ignored her, and she ignored them, but part of her suspected these were not the elves from Narderba, as in order to go back home to report they had to cross elven territory or use the tunnels below which were filling up. As the last troops crossed into the cave, she saw out of the corner of her eye one of the figures silently get up, followed by the other one and move slowly and quietly down the hill. She decided to stay to see which direction they were going in. She struggled to follow their path as the light faded and the sun began to set. She noticed that they were heading towards the untamed waste. She would have loved to follow them but she had more urgent matters at hand. She had to inform her contacts of what she had seen. She turned around and climbed up the hill towards her horse.

  It had been an easy ride for the convoy. The giant spiders that freaked out Lathenia and had replaced the horses but they had made good pack animals and the road itself had been worn down by multiple journeys. Even with the two heavy cannons, the journey had been smoother than she expected, and Sylvania seemed to be happier now that they were in the city of Narderba.

  She noticed as the wagon pulled into the compound that there was a small party to meet her, consisting of one human wizard and a dwarf as well as four dark elf females. Sylvania jumped down and engulfed one dark elf with light blue hair and light blue eyes, in a hug. She assumed that was Sylvania’s sister, Nataylia.

  As she climbed down, another dark elf come up to her. She was wearing a black dress and had short, silver hair coming down to her neck and a purple streak in her fringe as well. She also had emerald green eyes. She bowed slightly as a sign of respect and said, “Greetings and welcome to Narderba. I am Lucinda, currently in charge of the city.”

  Lathenia smiled. She noticed that the third dark elf wearing an armed breast plate and grey pants and even shorter white hair was taking a chance to look at the cannons. The fourth and final dark elf wearing black pants and a grey long sleeved shirt, who also had short white hair with a couple of red streaks in it, gave her a slight bow as well.

  Lathenia then pointed towards the second dark elf. “That is my sister, Althenian.” She then pointed towards the dark elf who Sylvania had hugged. “This is Nataylia, currently our head priestess, a worshiper of Mikiria.”

  Nataylia bowed slightly deeper than necessary and smiled. “I just want to thank you for taking care of my sister and finally bringing her back home.”

  She then pointed to the human and the dwarf next. “This is Thoergerod, our top wizard, and the dwarf, Bloodhammer.”

  Lathenia returned the bow she received. She had heard of Bloodhammer and his inventions.

  Lucinda then continued her speech. “Come, let me give you the tour, and I can show you your room where you and Sylvania will be staying.”

  “Thanks,” she replied as she followed Lucinda into the building. She had not expected such a warm welcome from a group of dark elves, although her status as a sorceress did ensure a warm welcome from any not too keen to be used as target practice for fireballs. As they walked up a set of stairs, Lathenia gently grabbed Sylvania’s hand and was rewarded when Sylva
nia gave it a reassuring squeeze.

  The crystal ball glowed with strange energy as the image came into focus. Zateria wanted to make sure that all went well as her larger plan hinged on it. She watched the army of the grand necromancer march past the spot she had chosen, followed an hour later by her priestess who started to mutter an incantation. She allowed some of her god-like power flow to her priestess who used that energy and channelled it through a sceptre that projected a light which covered the cavern’s ceiling.

  After about five minutes, part of the heavy rock ceiling gently floated to the ground, sealing the cavern. It was taking a lot of her energy moving the heavy rocks into place, but she did not want the grand necromancer to know that he was now cut off. Once the rock was in place, she felt the life-force in the tunnel and still felt the army marching away with no sense of panic. She smiled. That army was her revenge on the city of Narderba. She now had bigger fish to fry. She let her priestess go, their duties done well, but they had more work to do.

  The laptop was really beginning to bother him. He had tried everything. After a couple of weeks of looking, he had reached a desperate point and decided to take a rather drastic step. He had created a txt file called OPEN ME UP and put it on the desktop and typed in it, Bloodhammer is that you?

  He had left it for a couple of hours before deciding to add, if you want to reply simply type here and then press ctrl and s.

  He went for a cup of coffee and came back. He had received a reply which simply said, yes we are working on a way to bring you back. He looked at the message for a while, not entirely convinced it was not some sort of joke by one of his colleagues, but the question which came to him was, did he want to go back.

  As he stood in the watchtower and overlooked over the bridge, he noticed how the rising sun managed to glint off the water, creating a river of orange. Arderan frowned slightly. He was the captain of the elven encampment. Well, at least it was not blood red. The first battle here had turned the river that colour. It had been a hotly contested point during the first full war with Morkagin, and it was about to end up that way again.

  The city of Drahaven had been turned into a fortress, and the city walls had been reinforced just as well since the Morkagin forces camped just four hundred meters away. So far they had not made a move for the bridge, but his instinct told him that was about to change as the buildup across the river had been less than subtle, and now, according to their spy network, they were being joined by the animated skeletons. As he looked again, he noticed movement on the horizon and so he mused to himself, the river colour must change again.

  He got his telescope as he heard one of the lookouts shout a warning. He looked at the approaching force. It seemed to be mostly heavily armed skeletons followed by a normal Morkagin infantry. The bridge itself was about two hundred meters, and his new cannon had more than enough range to reach the other shore. He heard on of his aides climbing up the stairs. He smiled as the aide arrived.

  “I see them already. Hold back the cannon, but tell the infantry to fire at will when they get on the bridge.” The aide nodded and waved a flag which was repeated down the edge of the city walls, as he watched the army advance. The skeletons carried on marching and once they reached the edge of the bank instead of going over the bridge they just walked into the water, an unexpected move, he thought quickly, as more and more of the skeletons climbed into the river. “Order the cannons to start firing at the banks.” Another flag was waved as he hoped enough banish undead spells had been prepared. He was rewarded by a couple of loud bangs followed by whistling and loud dull thuds. He looked at the far bank. The human infantry seemed rather rattled by the turn of events, but the skeleton army did not react at all as they kept climbing into the water.

  By now, the first lot of the skeletons had emerged from the water and proceeded to the city walls. He saw a bright blue flash of magic hit a group with no affect. Damn. He slammed down the telescope he had been using. They were immune. By now, the infantry had decided to open up with their new rifles, but that did not have much effect against the skeletons. The odd lucky shot seemed to drop them. By now the skeleton army was attempting to climb the walls. He looked across the river and noticed that at least the cannon had an effect, but they still kept coming. He looked towards the infantry. They sat back and waited. As he looked to the battlements, he heard the loud whoosh and the bang of a fireball. At least some wizards had come prepared with another spell.

  Smidley looked at the papers on his desk. Maintaining the castle was not an easy task, especially for one as powerful as the grand necromancer. An unenviable chore. He sighed as he heard footsteps at the door. He looked up, and it was a messenger. No doubt relaying the details of the freshly started war. He indicated another tray without speaking a word. He was a busy man and the details of some battle did not bother him at all. He had an important castle to run. He tutted as the man walked away and went back to his all-important paper work.

  He did not know how long he had been behind the pen before he heard what sounded like a distant scream. He listened some more in case the noise repeated itself. It did not so he went back to his paperwork. He then heard footsteps again. He looked up, expecting another messenger but instead came face to face with a dark elf lady that did not concern him. What did concern and worry him was the fact that the lady’s eyes were completely white and glowing.

  He was too stunned to speak. He just sat there with his mouth open, rather confused. The dark elf reached out and grabbed his throat. The sudden pain killed his shock, and he began to struggle and try and pry her fingers from his throat. She just simply lifted him up and then floated across to the balcony where she dropped the struggling Smidley over the edge like a piece of refuse. His last thought was as he dropped to his death, I don’t think I have paid the bill for the roof renovations.

  Arderan smiled. So far only one of the watchtowers had fallen to the undead. It had been found that the crystal inside the skeletons’ chests where the heart would be. The only problem was that was behind chest armour and the ribcage. Why couldn’t it be somewhere easier like the head, he thought to himself. But then it would just mean the skeletons would all be wearing helmets.

  He had also had the foresight to send a messenger to convey those words to his daughter. He looked at the fallen watchtower. A group of battle wizards arrived on the scene and, using their best training and experience, had come up with a solid tactical plan to clear the tower. They proceeded to lob fireballs and explosion spells into any open windows, turning the one tower into an inferno. While looking at this scene, he noticed one of the skeletons proceeded to climb out the top window and down the outside wall. Rather odd, he thought to himself. He then looked at another one by the wall, and it was turning around and walking back into the water. He looked at a couple more and they too were heading back into the river.

  He heard an excited aide exclaim, “They are retreating.”

  He put down his telescope turned to the aid. “Tell the men to keep firing everything they have got.”

  He then put the telescope back to his eye and proceeded to watch the undead army head back towards the confused looking human infantry as shells exploded around the marching figures, taking a small group. Suddenly a horseman appeared in front of the human infantry, and he could see the horseman who looked like a young man shout and wave his sword at his troops. He then proceeded to charge towards the bridge, followed by a group of soldiers.

  He put down the telescope. Either the charge was part of a brilliant plan, or it was a junior officer too eager to grab glory to see what was in front of him. The charging horseman ran right past the retreating skeletons then vanished. He quickly grabbed his telescope to try and find the figure. He found the horseman on the floor, obviously dead. He looked towards the charging troops. They were now fighting the skeletons. This was an odd and rather worrying turn for the books.

  By now, any infantry not caught up in the brutal fighting had decided to make a run for i
t and fled on mass. He put down his spy glass and turned to his aid. “Get my mount ready, and tell all officers to prepare to march.”

  His aid nodded and reached off as his second in command, a tall Grey Elf with a scar on his cheek named Hisoruth with long black hair tied into a ponytail as well as a dark blue streak in his hair, and the blue uniform with red trimmings of the office core, came up to him and said in his rather rustic voice, “I assume we are going to Merdith.”

  “Well,” replied Arderan. “If the skeleton horde is headed that way, then so are we.”

  The library of Narderba, located in the university and next to the large time keeping tower, had been Lathenia’s first target. She had left Sylvania to catch up with her sister. She had also turned down any escort saying that very seldom does a sorceress of her power run into much trouble. The average dark elf on the street did glance at her oddly when she was walking down the street, but it had been the glance of the curious rather than a glance of hatred. She also noted how militarised the city seemed, with most of the citizens in armour and every now and then she passed a heavily armed patrol heading towards the outside caves.

  As she entered the library, she saw that she was being followed by a female dark elf and had wondered if they had sent her an escort anyway. She got into the library and found it a lot brighter than the streets, as here they used a special torch rather than the luminous moss. Behind the reception desk was a small Dark Elf male who was small even by elven standards. He wore a pair of ancient glasses and had long white hair. He looked up at her and stood up, although given his height, it did not seem to make much of a difference.