Necromancer’s Sorrow: (Series Finale)

by Pablo Andrés Wunderlich Padilla

  Necromancer’s Sorrow

  (Fallen Gods Book 6)

  Pablo Andrés Wunderlich Padilla

  Synopsis:

  Mórgomiel has crushed his enemies and dissolved the once heroic Alliance of Gods. The God of Light has been skillfully defeated, wrongfully betrayed by his own brethren. The God of Chaos is close to taking over the universe. Malicious soldiers from different species rush to enlist in the ranks of Chaos. They relish in the prospect of galaxy-wide bloodletting and plunder.

  The natives of Meridian have learned just how important this tactically vital planet is to the God of Chaos. Meridian is known as the world of portals, which the God of Chaos used eons ago in his first attempt to bring the universe under his rule.

  The many empires native to this planet will unite under one powerful banner. But how can mere mortals fight against a God and his legions? This is no easy task, and there is no simple strategy. One thing is certain—failure will result in the death or enslavement of thousands. With the God of Light dead, the possibility of success becomes negligible. Nevertheless, the defenders must fight or die trying. Better certain death in a glorious battle than a tortured existence under the terror of Chaos itself.

  © 2021 Pablo Andrés Wunderlich Padilla . All rights reserved.

  It is absolutely forbidden to reproduce this text without the explicit permission of the author.

  All the characters in this work are products of the imagination.

  Prologue

  Mórgomiel sailed the River of Time on Górgometh’s back. The defeat of the Gods of the Five Essences had been simple, rapacious, and evil—a masterplan that he had been preparing for thousands of years, ever since he had been defeated during the Times of Chaos.

  Nobody had anticipated his resurrection and then his coordinated attack. The key element had been that the Gods of the Great Alliance had betrayed their siblings and their dragons, tilting the scales from the start in favor of darkness. The Goddess of Night was estranged from her dragon, and ArD’Buror was eager to destroy his own dragon Folfiri.

  The God of Chaos marveled at the two-dimensional river that stretched like a boardwalk towards infinity. Above its surface, he could see the brightness of the billions of distant galaxies, little worlds, spheres of gas and rock which he would one day have mastery of. The conquest he had always longed for was at hand.

  And now he had his entire suit of armor; he had regained all his powers. His shrunken soul was whole. But there was more than his soul to add power. Wrath the Godslayer held within it three additional souls of great power, added to the thousands of souls the accursed sword already held within.

  I am unsurpassable, he told himself. The powers that well up in me are greater than those of any being. There is no one capable of opposing me.

  The defeat of the God of Light and his dragon Róganok had given him the key to the gates of the universe.

  The strategy for defeating the God of Light was admirable, his dragon told him in thought. That huge head undulated as his body snaked through eternity, his spindle-like form leaving a wake of shadows behind it.

  It was a magnificent conquest, the God of Chaos replied. Luckily, Górgometh did not notice that it had not been Mórgomiel who had said this.

  Mórgomiel’s eyes looked from side to side, unable to tell where the voice had come from.

  Here I am.

  Mórgomiel unsheathed Wrath.

  Is anything wrong, milord? the Dragon of Chaos asked.

  No. Just that—no, nothing. Let us go on, Mórgomiel said to his beast.

  Who are you? he asked the presence within him.

  Don’t you know? replied the voice from the depths of his soul. It hurts me to see that you’ve forgotten me because I never forgot you.

  It is impossible. You were suppressed when I took over your body—

  But you never fully eliminated my soul, the voice replied.

  What do you want? Mórgomiel asked. Before he could get an answer, the voice had fled and was lost in the turbulent seas of his soul.

  Inside such a web of hatred and the appetite for destruction, it would be impossible to find the tiny mote that was the soul of the human he had conquered. Nevertheless, no matter how infinitesimal, it made him anxious. It was like having an erratic, fleeting thought he could not control. Yet, that strange presence seemed to have a will of its own, even though it had no body.

  They left the River of Time and the magical stream that connected the dimensions expelled them back into the universe.

  Górgometh sensed that the God of Chaos was anxious, which was very unusual. You are distracted, milord, he said in thought. Eorta is near, the little red world you left in the care of Évulath the Brave.

  Mórgomiel smiled to himself. We shall see whether the servant has fulfilled his mission of multiplying and training the army. We must prepare for the conquest of the universe, and for that, we will need to use the Portals of the Meridian, the world I created to connect great distances through portals. Kanumorsus.

  Memories of times long gone came to Mórgomiel’s mind. Before the Times of Chaos, he had conquered the planet that was now called the Meridian and had built Kanumorsus as part of his masterplan to conquer the universe.

  Chapter I – Allündel

  “Gordbaklala, God of Earth.”

  “Dead. Absorbed by Wrath the Godslayer.”

  “Kágalath, the dragon of the God of Earth.”

  “Dead. Also, sadly, absorbed by Wrath.”

  “ArD’Buror, God of Fire, and his dragon Folfiri.”

  “Dead. ArD’Buror at the hands of Róganok. Folfiri was absorbed by Wrath.”

  “Traitor!” cried Lohrén. Several others echoed him.

  “Silence,” Azuri called. “We will continue as protocol dictates. Mythlium, Goddess of Water and her dragon Fluenthal.”

  “Dead. Obliterated by Róganok and Alac over Mortis Depthos.”

  “Traitor! Her death was well-deserved!” Lohrén shouted again. Other elves once more echoed him. The strength of emotion lasted a little longer this time.

  Azuri did not even trouble to silence the others since she was boiling with rage as well. When the Council of Allündel was silent again, she continued.

  “D’Santhes Nathor, Goddess of Night, and her dragon Mégalath.”

  “Separated. Disinterested. But alive.”

  “Cowards!” howled Lohrén.

  “Alac Arc Ángelo, God of Light, and his dragon Róganok.”

  This time there was silence.

  It was Hiz the Spellcaster who replied. He was sitting with his legs crossed, holding a magical orb in both hands over his knees. Hiz was studying the orb carefully, having specialized in the reading of its messages during the thousands of years he had been alive. His gaze probed the profound depths of the magical artifact. Extracting and translating the conclusions he was piecing together with the aid of the orb.

  He said, “Alac, missing. Róganok was annihilated by Górgometh over Mortis Depthos.”

  Sighs filled Uyca, the religious dome. The noise echoed. At the top of the cupola, a round window concentrated the star rays of Oris. The beam of light came through at an angle, its light separating into separate colors as it entered the dome and illuminated the religious site with divine blue light. The walls of Uyca were clean with no decoration.

  The others present at the Council were sitting beside one another in a semicircle with their legs crossed. The seated elves were paying attention to the one elf who was on foot: Azuri the Praise, religious leader of Allündel.

  The sorcerer was still lost in the depths of the orb. He scrutinized the images thoroughly.
<
br />   “The whereabouts of the God of Light is uncertain and inconclusive. The orb is unable to show me his fate. Should we do this every day?” he wondered.

  The sorcerer’s hair was jet black, his eyes turquoise. His hair, as with the majority of elves, was long, reaching half-way down his back. He wore it loose, like a cascade of black diamonds. It was the women who braided theirs with flowers and other ornaments, always simple ones. Lohrén was the only one who gathered his hair, which was silver, into a bun on the top of his head.

  “It must be so,” Azuri replied with her eternal wisdom. The religious leader wore a red cloak bordered with purple. On her golden hair, straight and loose, she wore a hat of the same color. Her blue eyes looked keenly at the audience, her gaze lost in the infinite, while she assessed the information Hiz had given them. “The whereabouts of Alac must be established as soon as possible,” she argued. “The fact that the orb is unable to locate it is a good omen, it means he has not died. There is still hope.”

  “Several Sands have been devoted to finding him,” another counselor said. “And the entire time, we failed to realize that Mórgomiel had tempted and seduced Fluenthal, ArD’Buror, and Mythlium. If we had seen it in time, we would have alerted Alac and perhaps prevented this catastrophe. The fall of the essences and the ending of the Summons is an augury that we will be taken in again by the Times of Chaos. We are lost.”

  “It was impossible to foretell the treachery of the Gods,” Hiz explained. “Do you suppose Mórgomiel did not calculate everything in cold blood? With his magic, he prevented the sphere and my skillful spells from unraveling his evil plans. But we are no longer blind. We know that Mórgomiel moves fast and desires nothing less than to take the whole universe hostage. We must do something to stop him.”

  “Unless—” Lohrén began and then stopped. Azuri interrupted him.

  “Say what you are thinking. We are at a Council so that everybody can share their ideas and suggestions. If you have something to say, then say it,”

  Lohrén looked around, uneasy about what he was about to say. “I say that we didn’t know about Mórgomiel and his plans because it may be that someone within our prestigious Council betrayed us and deliberately sabotaged the sphere so that it could not be read.”

  Several elves sighed. Nobody had considered treachery as a possibility. But of course, it was.

  Hiz sounded irritated when he spoke. “I am the only one who has the sphere. To insinuate that something like this might have happened is to consider me a traitor. I will not tolerate your insolence.”

  “There is no need to feel offended, Hiz,” Uín said. “Lohrén is right. Perhaps it was not anybody in Allündel who betrayed us, however. Someone outside this world might have had strength enough to corrupt the orb’s visions.”

  “Who has strength enough to be able to do a thing like that?” Azuri asked.

  “We know that Alac spoke to the Black Queen of the Morelia Abyss not just once,” Uín said.

  “The idea that the Oracle might have betrayed us freezes my blood,” Hiz concluded. “But it is true. Few beings in the universe could have succeeded, and she is one of those few. This means that the reach of Mórgomiel’s powers is vast. If he has managed to convince someone as powerful as the Oracle, then we really are in trouble.”

  “I am surprised that the Gods and Water and Fire would succumb so easily. What did it?” Uín asked.

  “Nobody knows,” Hiz answered. “It is possible that Górgometh himself may have played a role with his evil spells, pulling the wool over their eyes with his mind games. The fact is that Mórgomiel has regained all his powers, and he now has his full armor. We need the God of Light. Without him, Mórgomiel is unbeatable.”

  The elves in the Council nodded with fear in their eyes.

  “What pains me,” the voice of the sorcerer echoed, “is knowing that ArD’Buror sacrificed Folfiri in exchange for power. Dragons are like elves: they do not often multiply. Once extinct, they will never come back.”

  “There are other dragons,” Lohrén said.

  “So there are. But they lie in an eternal slumber. Who will be able to wake them from their rest?”

  Nobody replied.

  “What other options do we have?” Azuri pointed out. “Who else could find out Alac’s whereabouts? We are blind. We need to abandon our comforts and go out to search for him.”

  This suggestion caused discomfort among the elves. It was thousands of years since they had left their patch of land after their planet, Érvein, had been destroyed. And none of them were ready to sally forth beyond the limits of Allündel.

  A voice said from behind the columns that held the dome, “I think I have a solution.”

  A crouching figure came out to face the Council.

  “Karsa? What are you doing here? Spying on the Council? This deserves a reprimand!”

  Azuri was examining the young elf girl carefully, admiring her courage. “Speak, daughter of Elfaram. The Council of Allündel is neither private nor secret. It is well known that the wisest attend because of the well-known lack of interest among the younger ones.”

  “When Alac was here and I took him to the Lookout, he mentioned something that I found interesting, but I paid no special attention. until I visited the place not long ago and recalled what he had said. I think it is important. I heard about his tragic loss and I understand that we don’t know where he is but there is someone who might know.”

  “Who?” Hiz asked, his turquoise eyes avid.

  “It is a Naevas Aedán, your Honor,” Karsa replied.

  “A Naevas Aedán? Seraphs… Do they exist outside Allündel?”

  “They were decimated during the War of One Lament,” Lohrén said. “Thórlimás, their god, died during that war, as did Eolidálidá.”

  “Yes, nearly all of them were exterminated,” Karsa said. “But several survived the attack, and we sheltered them here. But there was one seraph who somehow became Alac’s ally. He told me that he missed his presence.”

  Hiz was maneuvering the orb, delving into its depths. “It is true. I have seen it.”

  “The Naevas Aedán are useless by themselves,” Lohrén said insolently.

  “It might be so,” Karsa argued. “But this one is different. He was Alac’s guide!”

  “His guide?” Hiz repeated. “You are saying he inhabited his mind, heart, and spirit?”

  “That is what Alac told me. His faithful guide Teitú abandoned him when he visited Tutonticám because he had decided to stay with the fallen to give them comfort.”

  “Interesting…”

  “That is the solution!” Azuri cried with a start. “Can he be brought back? If we manage to bring him out of his sorrow, perhaps he will help us locate Alac.”

  “Perhaps,” Hiz said. “But to depend on a being who is eternally emotional like a Naevas Aedán? They are susceptible to the currents of love, terror, rage; but also highly efficient at communicating with their master. As translators between species, they are wonderful. Perhaps…”

  “That is the solution,” Azuri repeated.

  “And who is going to be brave enough to go and fetch him?” Lohrén asked. “Which of us will go to the ruins of Tutonticám? That land is accursed, full of opprobrium and demons. Since the War of One Lament and the destruction of Flamonia, nobody has set foot on that part of the Meridian.”

  The elves were troubled and breathing fast; some even felt palpitations. Speaking of other worlds and the mention of demons sounded ominous. The elves had been isolated for thousands of years since the Times of Chaos when they had fled the known universe to hide in a remote corner of the stars to avoid being exterminated. Many of those who had survived the exodus from Érvein were still alive and memories of the terror caused by Mórgomiel persisted in their hearts.

  “It will have to be someone who can help us,” Uín explained. “The universe is in danger, and the darkness has tilted the scales. But there are still beings of great heart who can take on the
fight. The Naevas Aedán, when they give way to sadness, are subject to such intense depression that only loved ones or ones they know can comfort them.”

  “And I know who,” Hiz said. The orb between his knees showed the image of a girl.

  “Human? Again?” Lohrén sneered. “When are we going to stop depending on those pathetic beings?”

  “Never,” Azuri said with a smile.

  “Karsa, you’re brilliant! I believe you have found the answer to the riddle we have been trying to solve for several Sands. You should attend the Council more often. I see your mind is a perceptive one. Hiz.”

  “Yes, your Honor?”

  “Send an emissary for the girl. Communicate with Balthazar, who is our only contact with that world. I want her here. I want to look into her eyes and entrust this grand mission to her personally.”

  “Human? Here?” Lohrén cried, his face pale.

  “So it shall be done, your honor,” Hiz said. “But who will dare leave Allündel?”

  “It must be one of the young ones, whose soul is still adventurous,” Azuri said with a smile. “Young minds have the benefit of not having memories of the Times of Chaos.”

  “I have a suggestion,” Karsa said.

  They all turned to look at her again. Azuri smiled.

  Chapter II – A Flower In The Silence

  Luchy could not take her eyes off the jewel. It shimmered with an eternal rhythm which at times was intolerable; not because the rhythm caused her pain or anxiety, but because it was something monotonous and silent that gave her no sense of hope. She wished the jewel could bring her peace, some information about where Manchego was and whether he was safe.

  “Make a sound, any sound. Tell me something, a word, anything…” Luchy said to the space occupied by the freezing wind of the winter that was now beginning. It had never snowed in the south of the Empire before. Those deluges happened in the higher northern lands, but never in the South.

  Something had changed drastically. It could only be Alac’s absence—Manchego’s absence. Dead? He could not be. It simply could not be true. Balthazar, enigmatic as ever, had reassured her that the boy was missing, and besides, he had made that proposal to her.