Necromancer’s Sorrow: (Series Finale)

by Pablo Andrés Wunderlich Padilla

  “Very well, sir. I’ll tell Lenga. When will the mages advance to the battlefield?”

  “Soon, Sendar. Very soon.”

  Chapter XLVII — The Mechanisms of War

  Lenga was the leader of the group of thieves. When the rafts landed on the shore of Merromer, the group of assassins made their way towards a settlement several leagues away from the port city where the Baron’s men had readied horses for them, one per pair to save on resources. Nobody could be allowed to catch them, not even the Baron’s guards who were unaware of the plan. The enemy must not be allowed to suspect anything.

  A day later, when they were already close to Háztatlon, they stopped at another settlement where other colleagues took their mounts and the group continued on foot with the utmost stealth.

  Feather Step was used by all once they were near the walls of the city so that they slipped in easily without being spotted.

  Lenga divided them into five groups of four and one of three. There might be up to fifty thieves learning magic in Maggrath, but only twenty-three had been chosen for the mission. Cail found himself following Lenga in the group of three and his other female colleague Noela was with them.

  At night, they could not be perceived by any normal eye but it was not the eye of any everyday passer-by which worried them; it was the eye of the demon or of an evil individual who might be using the Black Arts. With Feather Step, Cail noticed that not even the rats heard him until it was too late and he could have gutted quite a few of them if he had so wished. He smiled to himself, trying to keep focused. At that moment, the other assassins must be carrying out their mission. Many guards would be lying dead, their bodies hidden in the shadows or bleeding in their beds with their throats cut.

  This would be the second time Cail had slipped into the secret corridors of Háztatlon. The first time had been when he had helped Mérdmerén find his way to kill Don Cantus de Aligar. Eliminating him had certainly brought them quite a surprise. Now the thieves had come prepared with their own spells specifically to avoid surprises.

  Lenga gave the order silently, her index finger making a circle in the air. Both Cail and Noela obeyed at once and they called upon Subliminal Consciousness. Cail felt his mind’s eye reaching out to his surroundings and began to be aware of all those things his physical eyes could not see. His perception kept him alert, but not alarmed. There were some enemies around, but none of them heading for their position.

  Within the secret corridors, they moved with Feather Step and Consciousness. Using both tricks for a long time would consume an excess of energy, so they needed to hurry to save energy in case they needed to use Yagartikai.

  The corridors were as old as the structure. They did not need sight to know they were near their target. The three felt the hair at the backs of their necks stand on end. In their mind’s eye, Consciousness allowed them to see the orcs and soon they felt the flow of Black Arts. There must be a powerful sorcerer here. They were near the king’s chambers where they had been informed of the presence of a practitioner of the Black Arts. It must be a sáffurtan, but it might be something far worse. They could expect anything, anything, from Mórgomiel.

  Lenga moved forward. Traces of torchlight penetrated the tunnels through cracks in the wall, creating small gleams in the shadows.

  The leader stopped. They had reached the exit near the king’s chamber. Lenga pushed carefully, making as little noise as possible as she took out one of the pieces of loose stone that would give them access to the palace.

  Noela came out. She was dressed completely in black and only her eyes could be seen. She ran to hide behind a column. Cail followed her and hid behind a wall.

  Lenga moved to the double door of the king’s room. The first guard who detected her could not believe his eyes. He rubbed them at the sight of a woman’s silhouette walking toward him. He did not hear her footsteps or feel her presence, which made him assume it was his imagination. When his vision focused on the murderous intention in those eyes, it was already too late. To ensure that his death was swift and clean, Lenga had stabbed him through the heart. The other guard was still talking about some nonsense when the dagger entered his palpitating organ. The spear in his hand was about to fall to the floor and make a deafening clatter, but Cail was quick to prevent the disaster. The two guards were carried to a dark corner where somebody might find them the next day.

  Lenga opened the door of the king’s chamber and went in, followed by Cail and Noela. She closed the door after them without a sound. Feather Step kept them undetectable to the ear and Consciousness told them their target was very close.

  Lenga signaled with her fingers. Cail and Noela followed the order, each one slipping to one side in case there was some presence invisible to their mind’s eye.

  From a prudent distance, Cail made out a hooded figure sitting in the king’s chair in front of the sovereign’s desk.

  Lenga moved like a panther, positioning herself rapidly behind the figure. When she was in position, she took out her dagger and prepared to strike.

  Cail was watching nervously. He felt that something was out of place, although he could not see what it was. Lenga was concentrating on her task, preparing to stab the figure through the heart. His Consciousness warned him that a second presence had appeared unexpectedly in the room.

  He activated the Yagartikai, combining the words in his mind in the correct sequence. He felt his whole system accelerating and before he realized what he was doing, he had slipped forward like mist. With a measured blow, he intercepted a gigantic and loathsome orc that was about to plunge its curved sword into Lenga’s back. His dagger penetrated the creature’s thick neck, then stabbed it in the chest again and again. He could see that the orc was white, perhaps one of those disgusting hybrids he had seen during the Battle of Háztatlon. Its face was bruised as if it were rotting alive, its teeth sharp and putrid, and its gaze merciless. The orc fell backward and Noela had to help Cail to stop the massive creature from falling with a crash.

  Her eyes filled with tears when she realized how close she had been to death. She thanked Cail silently, then regained her poise and breathed more easily, realizing after a few seconds that nobody had come to avenge the death of the creature Cail had disposed of.

  Lenga moved forward stealthily and looked closely at the body sitting in the chair, the one she was supposed to murder. When she saw it from close to, she realized it was nothing but a lifeless skull. There was still some putrefying flesh on it. The sáffurtan’s body was bent forward and its bony hands lay uselessly open. There was no way of knowing what had happened to this dark sorcerer, nor knowing whether the reason its life had ended was that it had been eliminated or because of some other ritual. What was certain was that the presence of the dark sorcerer’s body indicated that the palace had been infiltrated by the practitioners of the Black Arts.

  Lenga signaled with a glance. Now came the second part of their mission, and perhaps the most difficult. They had to make their way into the Dungeon of Thieves and examine the sewers to find out what kind of organization had been created by the demon that had forced out the Baron. They would have to eliminate guards if necessary. The mission to the sewers was one of reconnaissance.

  As though a breath of wind had passed in and out, the thieves left the king’s room, leaving the bodies where they were. If they were found the next day, it would not matter. The message they left with the bodies was: we’ve caught your chieftains, you bastard.

  Between the wall and the secret corridors, Lenga led Noela and Cail to the sewers. It was not hard to find the complex of tunnels that would take them to the place they had once called home.

  They were in complete darkness, but thanks to Subliminal Consciousness, none needed more than their senses to orient themselves. Cail became aware of Gavin and Paula. In a few minutes, all twenty-three assassins were assembled in the sewers to continue with the next stage of their plan.

  Words were not needed. All of them had received the
ir instructions. The twenty-three assassins dispersed. Each one was responsible for one section of the Dungeon. Cail had been given the duty of evicting the demons from the cellar where the thieves had built up a store of weapons and armor for years.

  In absolute stealth he left, his Feather Step barely disturbing the water as he made his way through the sewers. Walking in the dark was no problem for him as he had grown up here, walking down the corridors of the Dungeon trusting his senses, except for that of sight.

  He stopped at a corner and called up Consciousness. His mind’s eye reached out its fingers everywhere, perceiving that, for the moment, there was nobody and nothing around and that he could keep going some way further without fear of an enemy catching him.

  He walked on stealthily for what seemed a long time until he stopped again to study his surroundings. The fingers of his Consciousness had let him know that several entities, pulsing with life, were approaching. But there was something else here that he did not understand. It was a fleeting presence, like a glimpse of smoke that appeared and vanished. He did not know what it was, but that fleeting presence did not give out an air of either malice or evil. He shrugged and proceeded, this time unsheathing his dagger and walking faster.

  When he turned a corner and pushed a secret door that slid to one side and led him into the Dungeon, he saw light. It must have been just a candle because it gave out very little light. But for Cail, the light was not vital, so it hardly mattered. Voices! He hid as best he could and listened.

  “I haven’t seen the sunlight in weeks. I’m fed up with being in this stinking hole.”

  “I agree, it stinks. How come a network of thieves used to live here? I pity them.”

  “D’you think they’ll let us out?”

  “Well, I guess so. What makes you think they won’t?”

  “Well, I don’t know. But that evil presence that gives us instructions sounds as though he’s capable of anything.”

  “He’s promised us money and women. He says when Mandrake falls, there’ll be plenty for all.”

  “That’s what they all say, man. You know that as paid mercenaries they offer us anything in exchange for our services.”

  Cail considered these words. These men must be talking about the demon that had infiltrated the Dungeon and taken it over.

  He listened for a while longer. His mission was scouting, so he had to gather as much information as possible. The soldiers went on talking about trivial things and did not mention the demon that had occupied the Dungeon again. He crouched and moved forward. He killed the soldiers with the utmost stealth and neither of them had time to realize that a dagger had buried itself in their hearts. He wanted to leave the bodies there, but his previous experience with Don Cantus had taught him that if there is a dead body, an evil spirit could easily take possession of it. He went back and cut off their heads, a process that was far more laborious and dirty than he would have imagined. Besides, the bodies were still warm. However, he knew that if he did not do this, they would wake and rise if the demon found them. He hoped his cousins and uncles had the sense to decapitate those they got rid of, but he was not sure.

  He activated his Consciousness and moved on, killing five more soldiers. These, he did not decapitate. It may be a reconnaissance mission, he thought. But I’m going to kill as many as I can while I’m here. He took pleasure in killing the bastards who had murdered his cousins and uncles.

  Eventually, he had eliminated every enemy in the cellar and, following his instructions, he was to go back to the meeting point and wait. But he could not leave the Dungeon just like that. He went on cautiously, following a hunch that urged him to keep going.

  The closer he approached the core of the Dungeon, the more guards he became aware of. The presence that behaved like slippery smoke kept him on edge because, as it gave out no force, he could not tell whether it was evil or just some kind of interference. Interference by what? Could it be an evil presence that was dormant?

  He went forward with Feather Step, making sure nobody was at his heels. He killed a guard who was sleeping with his eyes open. In this case, he did not dare cut his head off as the bloodbath was sure to attract too many eyes with the torchlight being brighter here.

  He crouched when he had rounded a corner and used Consciousness once again. The tentacles of his perception reached out. Once again, he felt the fleeting, smoky presence. This time it was moving like a snake, but was still not emanating either malice or good. Wait a moment, the presence was snaking towards the body of the guard he had just killed…

  He opened his eyes and understood that something or someone was coming for the body. This could not be good. He focused on the dead body, wondering whether he should cut its head off right there. As nothing happened, he decided to do nothing and waited. When still nothing happened, and he heard other men chatting about nothing in particular, he decided to call his Consciousness once again.

  Where was the slippery smoke, that presence that like a snake had approached the body? It was not there any longer. Could he have imagined it?

  With Consciousness, he felt that there were exactly seven men in the next room. Three were hammering red-hot metal and four were loading minerals into the forges to melt them and create iron. What the hell was this? Could there be a smithy right in the middle of the Dungeon? The demons had managed to set up a forge to make weapons? They were manufacturing weapons underneath Háztatlon!

  He could dispatch all seven guards if he activated Yagartikai. It would use up a lot of energy. He did not have to do it. He had found out quite a lot about the enemy’s activities and could now go back and tell the Baron about it all. But these were easy prey.

  He considered his options and without much debate, decided he could allow himself the energy to activate Yagartikai. He crouched and cast the spell, repeating the sequence of words in his mind, and felt the particles of his body accelerating. Euphoria coursed through him as he raced along the corridor like a strong wind. He stabbed seven times and seven bodies fell without a sound. The ones who were hammering dropped their hammers and the red-hot metal they were working on sounded like thunder when it collapsed. He hid behind the wall once again and threw out his Consciousness to check that nobody was coming to investigate the noise. With luck, his cousins and uncles would be eliminating their targets. Or would they be back already, waiting for him? He had not considered that possibility. What if they had already gone away and left him alone in the dark?

  Cail felt the price that the use of magic demands. He was exhausted with abnormal fatigue that seemed to have piled rocks on to his shoulders. He was hungry, thirsty, and so sleepy that he could lie down and go to sleep on the spot and he was sure he would sleep for hours.

  He felt the intensity of the light change all of a sudden. The forges began to go out one by one. What the heck? Putting out those blazing furnaces could not be an easy business and on top of that, there was no sound like the hiss of coals being extinguished. When the forges were out, the candles began to wink out one by one.

  The light fled as if something had scared it. The shadows took over and he felt the hair at the back of his neck rising. The shadows turned thick and uncomfortable.

  He concentrated as best he could and called upon his Consciousness. When the fingers of his mind reached out, he felt terror overcome him. An evil presence had taken over the shadows. Cail did not know whether it had been his fault or if he had triggered some trap that had activated the malice. Could it be that slippery presence that came and went?

  He heard heavy steps coming from the forge. A glare of red-hot metal appeared around the corner and a diabolic croak flooded his ears. What the hell? It was a demon! But how on earth could a demon made of red-hot coals have appeared?

  He was on the verge of despair. He knew that whatever it was that had croaked was coming in his direction and would soon turn the corner and find him. He cursed silently. Abusing the magic with so many spells had robbed him of his endurance and now his mo
vements were lethargic. He got to his feet with difficulty, first getting to his knees and then using his hands to help himself walk. He decided to get closer to the corner to see what was coming.

  Horror seized him when he saw a demon two strides tall made entirely of burning coals who was carrying a sword of red-hot iron in each hand. The demon lit up everything as it passed with the brightness of the glowing metal.

  “Did you believe it was going to be as simple as that, thief? You’ve set foot on the land under my care, under the orders of the Lord of Shadows. Did you really believe you and your little friends could defy Mórgomiel? Ha ha ha! You are a poor opponent! We had you ever since you set foot in the palace! I let you kill those worthless humans so that their death and their souls would be the source of energy I needed to make myself into this beast. Now you and your little friends will die and I will make a hecatomb out of Háztatlon to feed my lord with limitless death and destruction.”

  Cail activated Yagartikai just in time. At terrifying speed, the red-hot sword crushed the wall behind him. He did not know where he had found the energy for the spell, but he knew he must use whatever he had left with great care or he might end up dead.

  Twice more, the demon’s blows almost reached him, but even under the spell of accelerated movement, he was already losing the battle. He had very little energy left and he had to find out how to get out of this. He ran back the way he had come, but a lump of live coal caught him on the shin. He fell forward onto the stone, softening the fall with a cat’s twist. He grabbed his leg, trying to soothe the burn. How the hell had the demon reached him when he was still strides away? The answer was evident when he saw that the demon was tearing off pieces of his own burning body to throw at him. Painfully, he stood up and ran as fast as he could. The sewers! There was water there, and with water, he might be able to temper the demon of burning coals.