Necromancer’s Sorrow: (Series Finale)

by Pablo Andrés Wunderlich Padilla

  The spectators were left spellbound for a moment at the sight of the two differently-colored dragons fighting claw against claw, bite against bite, spell against spell, while their riders exchanged strokes and thrusts, launching lightning bolts of energy, energized balls, and deadly spells at one another when they came close enough.

  The war continued. Several orcs had managed to slip from either side to attack the rear. For obvious reasons, they were trying to reach the mages.

  “Link! Create a link with me!” called the soldier in the tanned leather armor with the huge double-edged sword. Lombardo was in a cold sweat. He focused his mind’s eye and connected with three, four, five mages of lower rank. They were able to give him enough energy for him to begin to shine sky-blue like a true Brutal Fark-Amon.

  “Aaaaah!” the soldier cried as he delivered his first stroke. His movement was a violent one whose momentum sent him back several strides. Again, he focused and launched another attack in an arc and cut another handful of orcs in half. Uroquiel and Ítalshin were still recovering and Sendar looked dead, judging by the color of his skin. Lombardo defended them as best he could, and of course, several soldiers came to help him defend the rear.

  “Sáffurtan!” they heard in the distance among the defensive lines. Uroquiel and Ítalshin got to their feet at once. Elgahar was already standing, scanning the horizon. His moment had arrived, the enemy he had been waiting for.

  Lombardo came to the senior mage’s side. “Sendar. He’s still alive, but his pulse is weak. Let him rest and get over it. I’ll defend him.”

  “Funia!” Elgahar called. She was so busy tending to so many wounded and dying that she seemed on the brink of collapse. The thief, now healer, came to Elgahar who indicated toward Sendar. “Try to heal that one. He’s a very powerful mage who can be a lot of help to us in the moments ahead.”

  “By the Gods, I’m up to my eyes in work as it is! I’ll do what I can, all right?”

  Funia left. The simple tunic she was wearing gave her the aura of a healer. Several soldiers who had previously been healers were helping her tend the wounded.

  Leandro’s hair stood on end. With his eyes staring, he could see bolts of black energy falling on the defending army in the west, causing many deaths in a matter of seconds. Shadows loomed out of the west and above the Path of the Fallen, there emerged the giant Nordost had warned them about.

  It was a soldier four strides tall, oozing a green thick substance that appeared to be acidic. In one hand, he carried a double-headed ax the size of a tree, and in the other, a shield. The monster’s helmet had two grids for the eyes in which red energy shone like hot coals. The infernal creature aimed his ax at the defending army, and from the southwest, a host of walking dead began their slow but steady advance to join the attack. Luckily, the precipice formed by the Path of the Fallen did not allow the horde to fill it completely, otherwise, the defenders would have been lost.

  Elgahar, Ítalshin, and Uroquiel created a counterspell to neutralize the attacks of the sáffurtan and then in their turn, created powerful attacks themselves. The war of magic, lightning bolts, energy, and energized balls began between the armies. Ten strides above the attackers’ heads, the dark mages and defensive mages attacked each other, trying to find their respective weak spots.

  Elgahar heard a loud noise behind him and spun around. With fear in his eyes, he saw the Portal of the Worlds beginning to shine. Could it be? Was Mórgomiel finally going to attack from the rear and take them by surprise? Was this the end?

  The mage turned and prepared to confront whoever was about to come out of the portal. If it were an enemy hundreds of thousands strong, he would not be able to repel them for long without dying as a result of the physical demands of the spell he would need to create.

  “Elgahar!” Uroquiel shouted. “Come back! We’re being overcome by the sáffurtans!” The high-ranked mages were starting to burn as a result of defending and trying to attack so many dark mages.

  “I can’t, my friends,” Elgahar shouted back. “If anyone crosses the threshold and attacks us we’ll be finished! Lombardo! I need you here!”

  The lower-ranking mages came to help him confront whoever might be on their way and created a link with Lombardo to provide him with energy.

  Chapter LIX — Infinite Battle

  The God of Light appeared in the Meridian when he came out of the Portal of the Worlds. Luchy’s limp, poisoned body was in his arms. He was weeping, his eyes red with the hatred and resentment he felt toward the God of Chaos. He wanted to kill him, destroy him and send him back to the rubble.

  The platform that supported the portal was surrounded by a sea of corpses. To his surprise, there were no attackers around the arch, only a mage who was looking surprised and an enormous soldier holding a two-handed sword. The war to the south was in full swing, and in the sky, he could see wyverns battling against other winged beings as well as his nemesis fighting against a dragon with metallic scales. It had to be Nordost!

  The vortex shone once again and Flóregund appeared behind the God of Light.

  “Alac!” came a cry. Manchego saw Elgahar running toward him with a look of surprise and relief on his face. “Luchy found you! She did it! Blessed be the Gods! Wait a minute. Luchy is wounded! Funia! Funia!” he shouted. The clangor of the battle made it impossible for the healer to hear.

  Alac fell to his knees and pressed his face against Luchy’s chest as though he wanted to listen to the beating of her heart, in case it stopped. The Naevas Aedán fluttered around him, shining bright red and trying to motivate him. Yet, nobody seemed able to bring him out of his grief. Elgahar knew that the only way to motivate the God of Light would be by tending to his beloved.

  “My name’s Flóregund—”

  “Leave her here!” the mage shouted. “Go and fight! Hell, Alac! Listen to me!”

  The elf was left speechless at the way the mage had addressed the God of Light. It showed a lack of respect. But the mage was right. Alac was oblivious, drunk with sadness and despair, and they had to reawaken him to make him go into battle against the God of Chaos.

  The glare the God of Light gave Elgahar for suggesting that he should leave Luchy might have burned him to a crisp on the spot. Before he could unleash his fury on the mage for his imprudence, Elgahar realized that he would get nowhere unless he helped Luchy that very moment. He did the most sensible thing he could have done, which was to leave his place in the battle and go in search of Funia. Closing his eyes, he sought his mind’s eye. He sent out the tentacles of his thoughts in all directions like a web, trying to perceive the healer. There were so many millions of people present in the unfolding battle that there was too much noise, too much death, too much interruption. There! He opened his eyes and ran to the right flank as fast as he could. There she was! Tending to those maimed near the Portal!

  “Funia! Funia!” he shouted when he came to her side. “Come with me, I beg you! I need you!”

  “I’m taking care of a wounded soldier, for goodness’ sake!” the healer snapped back. “This man will lose his life if I don’t do something about him straight away.”

  “Hellfire, woman! The universe will be lost if you don’t tend to the God of Light! Move!”

  Funia’s eyes opened wide and she left her post. It was occupied at once by another healer, albeit one less experienced.

  The two of them ran to the angel, who was on his knees near the Portal. His wings were folded behind him. His gallant feathers were spread across the bloodied ground and many of them had already taken on the crimson color.

  Funia looked closely at the angel before her. More than once, her mind told her to pause and admire this figure. A god! An angel! But when she saw the girl’s body with her face in the shadows between his arms, her passion for healing made her forget the god in front of her and concentrate on the wounded girl.

  “Now, let’s see! Show me her wounds!”

  Alac did as he was told.

  “Elgahar!
” Lombardo shouted.

  The mage turned. He had been concentrating deeply, watching Luchy breathing fast with her skin pale and grey. At the sight of a couple of dark mages floating in the air and manipulating the Black Arts and realizing that they were heading toward him, he got to his feet with a start and prepared for defense. Once and for all, he took off his pointed hat. Around him, a cyclone started to gather, and bolts of electricity shot from his hands. His eyes turned sky-blue, filled with energy, and he rose into the air to face the dark mages.

  “Orcs!” Lombardo shouted. “Link with me!” he urged the lower-ranking mages who had been absorbed in the battle. Lombardo shone sky-blue, and he played his part by defending the mages.

  “Give me the girl’s body!” Funia yelled. Manchego was in a state that would not allow him to let go of her. He didn’t want to, as he felt that moving away from her would be like saying goodbye forever.

  “Oh no. No, this looks bad. Talo, master of the art of healing, I pray that you grant me the wisdom to heal these wounds. I’m sorry.” She placed her hand on Luchy’s breast. “There’s some powerful poison coursing through her veins.”

  “She was cut by Mórgomiel’s blade,” the God of Light managed to mumble amid his tears.

  Funia looked straight into his face and soul. “I promise I’ll do what I can! Lord God, I understand that you’re deeply troubled about your beloved’s state of health, but I believe that with all your powers, you ought to go and fight that one.” She pointed at Mórgomiel. “I promise you, Lord God, I’ll work wonders to save this girl’s life. All right?”

  She brought out a small satchel that had been consecrated in Farwas by Talo. From it, she took a mortar and pestle and two dead mandrake flowers, thyme, laurel, a tiny flask of dragon tears, and tree-beard. She mixed the ingredients as best she could to make a paste. But she needed a solvent. She saw the God of Light shedding tears. Why not?

  “Allow me, Lord God,” she said. “I need a couple of your tears.”

  As she placed the mortar containing the unpleasant-smelling paste under his chin, two teardrops fell into the bowl.

  “Thank you!” she said and began to mix the contents. When the paste softened, she began to treat Luchy with it.

  “This’ll help contain the spread of the poison. I’m not certain it’ll be enough to prevent her death. Lord God? Lord God! Wake up! Mórgomiel!” The thief whacked the god’s head to make him react.

  What the hell was a god doing with so many emotions!? The thief had never imagined she would have to chivvy the God of Light as if he were a child. What she did not know was that she was dealing with a demigod of flesh and bone, a pure soul who was no more than a boy with a broken heart. The whack woke Manchego and brought him back from his negative trance. Seeing Teitú flying around him, glowing with that red light, he understood that the situation was serious. In other circumstances, he would have turned severely on the healer for daring to hit him.

  He felt a flow of memories, thoughts, and emotions that lasted less than the blink of an eye, less than a heartbeat. Lulita, Luchy, Rufus, and the Estate invaded his thoughts. His eyes came back into focus again, chasing the acrobatic movements of the Dragon of Chaos as it fought tooth and nail against his metallic dragon. He remembered the Times of Chaos thousands of years before when the union of the Summoned Alliance and the Metallic Knight had defeated Mórgomiel. Now the cycle was repeating itself, except that this time, he would make sure that Mórgomiel would not survive in any form.

  Love of the world, the estate, nature, Luchy, and Lulita infused him with dizzying energy. He began to shine with incandescent brightness, his spear of pure energy appearing in one hand and his shield of shining metal in the other.

  I’ll give you all the energy in my soul so that you can unleash your full potential, Teitú thought in his mind.

  The God of Light stood up. “Do what you can, healer! My thanks to you for drawing me out of my selfish thoughts!”

  Funia, holding Luchy’s inert body, was deeply impressed. She had never expected a god to thank her for anything. Remembering the girl, she went back to work and began creating healing spells to halt the process of contamination in Luchy’s body. It did not look hopeful. She feared that the girl would die from her poisoning. Who could neutralize the venom of the God of Chaos’s sword? Nobody. This was going to be fatal.

  Thanks for coming back for me, Teitú. It’s now or never. Let’s put an end to this creature of infamy once and for all!

  Teitú shone the color of rubies, suffusing everything around with bloody light. It was an effect that brought Alac’s potential to its height. With a powerful detonation, the God of Light shot into the sky.

  During his ascent, Alac saw that among the enemy lines, there ran a giant soldier covered in iron armor from head to foot, wearing a helmet with two grids that gave forth red, evil energy. The gigantic soldier was wielding a double-edged ax. Behind the enormous creature marched an army of dark mages and an insane number of walking dead. This must be one of Górgomiel’s chieftains, one of his faithful commanders. Alac noticed uneasily that wherever the giant went, he left behind him a wake of green smoke that looked poisonous while shadows emerged from his claws. With them, he was summoning the inert corpses back to a life-in-death to attack, bite, devour, and create more and more chaos. The chieftain was about to crash against the army of centaurs and Alac knew that no living creature would be capable of stopping such an opponent, not without the help of the magic of someone like Elgahar. He could only hope the mage would have enough energy to defend the army.

  After another detonation, Alac transformed into a bolt of pure energy. The flash of light was followed by thunder. The angel flew like lightning and with the impetus of suns traveling at an unbelievable speed, he pierced Górgometh from side to side.

  The Dragon of Chaos writhed. He did not even know what had hit him, and before he could protest, a great wound in his side was bleeding black smoke. The beam of light ascended, then finished off the dragon by decapitating him. The dragon of shadows had no time to give a final sigh.

  “For Róganok!” the God of Light howled, remembering how the dragon of shadows had plunged a claw into his own dragon’s innards to defeat him. For you, my dear friend, Alac thought to himself, wishing that in some unknown place, Róganok’s spirit might hear him.

  Mórgomiel could barely recover. He leaped off the corpse of his dragon in an attempt to strike a definitive blow at Nordost. But without his dragon and three of the pieces of his armor, his powers were weakened.

  Nordost acted quickly. He delivered a blow that tore off one of the God of Chaos’s legs. Mórgomiel stared blankly, unable to believe that he was being beaten.

  You imbecile, you bungler, Argbralius thought within the soul of the god. Because of you, they’re going to defeat us, you pathetic God of Chaos. You never managed to kill the God of Light, all because you were intent on killing the girl and her beloved god with a single blow!

  He was right. The mistake would cost him his life.

  The Metallic Knight rose with a leap from Nordost’s back and with the Sword of Stern, he came down upon Mórgomiel, plunging it exactly into the tip of his sternum. Suspended in the air, the beam of light that Alac had turned into pierced Mórgomiel’s waist, tearing off half his body as it did so. His other leg and his hips flew off, his torso left paralyzed and immobile. His arms went limp. He dropped his sword, Wrath the Godslayer, and his shield, which both fell in slow motion. The Metallic Knight put his foot on Mórgomiel’s shoulder and the sword, which had pierced his heart, free.

  “Die,” the Knight said. “Your rule of terror is over.”

  It’s impossible, Mórgomiel thought as his shadowy blood gushed out. Have I been defeated?

  His torso fell, following the fate of his sword.

  No! Argbralius shouted within the defeated god’s dying soul. It’s not possible! My glory, my conquest!

  The Metallic Knight mounted his dragon, and together, they watc
hed that black figure tumble after the gigantic body of his decapitated dragon.

  Alac did not stop. Mórgomiel’s destruction had to be complete. He could not allow any of his pieces to remain except in the form of dust.

  With a roaring blast, the God of Light accelerated to full speed and seized the half-body in midair. He screamed as he came down like a destructive comet. He crushed the remains of the God of Chaos against the earth. A gigantic crater was formed by the explosion. It produced an expansive wave that overwhelmed a tenth of the evil army, generating a cloud in the shape of a mushroom that would fill most of the sky for several hours.

  A prisoner in the burning earth, the evil one could only watch his conqueror. Could this be true? That Alac had overthrown him again?

  Alac was now on his feet, his chest puffed up and his arms alongside his body. His eyes were fixed on the God of Chaos. His spear of pure energy shone with electricity, blazed with wrath.

  “This is for Luchy,” Alac said. He raised the spear and plunged it in deeply. The weapon of pure energy began to vibrate, burning the malign essence and evaporating it forever.

  Great explosions followed. The earth shook. Dust rose into the air. Confusion reigned for brief moments while the thousands of spectators witnessed their leader being torn to pieces.

  Someone was running. Heavy footsteps were coming fast in long strides. The whistle of a descending ax was followed by the cries of its victims, and soon, a giant appeared at the edge of the crater and jumped in to help his master.

  The God of Light barely had time to avoid the deadly blow that would have split him in half. With a start, he leaped into the sky, realizing that the armored giant he had seen in the distance with his gigantic shield and ax was howling in defense of his master Mórgomiel.

  Paladin crouched down and with one gigantic gloved hand, he grasped Mórgomiel’s torso. When he took off his helmet, he revealed the amorphous matter of the demon that inhabited that armor.

  “Don’t let it swallow Wrath!” he heard a voice shout in the distance. It was Elgahar’s. But everything had happened too fast.