Necromancer’s Sorrow: (Series Finale)

by Pablo Andrés Wunderlich Padilla

  Manchego felt insulted because Argbralius had called him his brother and he was trying to make him sympathize with him, make him believe they were alike. All the same, Argbralius’ argument had one valid point and he had felt it before.

  On many occasions, he had felt used and abused by the powers that had decided to incarnate the God of Light in his body, then driven him to become a warrior. Had it been his own decision, he would never have been reincarnated as the God of Light. He would have been the same shepherd as ever, plowing the land, looking after the animals, and no more than that. Becoming the God of Light had been an imposition.

  “Brother?” Manchego spat angrily from the ground where he was still lying, propped on his elbows. “You treat me like a friend when you’re killing all the people I’ve loved! The darkness you spread is an abomination. You—you never had any friends or brothers! Vain and self-centered, that’s all you are. I saw how much you suffered as a child, I saw when you killed your father, and I saw you wailing like an infant beside your mother’s corpse.

  “It was at that moment, Arg, that you needed a guide, a person to teach you the right path. All of this could have been avoided with a little love. It’s as simple as that. But your lust for power led you down a dark path and overloaded you with suffering. Now you’re here, sacrificing everything you once loved to make your wishes come true, whatever the cost. You’re just a spoiled child. That’s what you are!” Manchego spat on the ground in his scorn.

  Argbralius was stunned. He blinked repeatedly and seemed to be about to burst into tears. “Don’t give me that nonsense, you scrawny nobody!” he shouted, visibly offended. “You don’t know anything about suffering! You bastard! You scumbag! How dare you insult my mommy! I fought for her! I killed Trumbar so she wouldn’t suffer!”

  “And even so, you didn’t manage to save her. I saw her corpse. I saw you whimpering like a puppy beside her. The truth is that you didn’t save anybody. You chose power, and that’s why she died of a terrible curse. Admit it, Argbralius.”

  The world weakened. The atmosphere distorted and the vortex slowed down. Had it been because of Argbralius’ emotional reaction? Was it possible that when he became angry or sad, the alternate dimension was affected? If it was affected, would it weaken the spell that kept Alac suppressed?

  It was true! There it was a fragile flame, a whisper. Alac Arc Ángelo’s essence appeared like a petal floating in the air, borne by the breeze. By shocking Argbralius, he had weakened the spell that kept the God of Light within him controlled. He grasped at Alac’s essence as best he could and thought, I’m coming to your aid, Alac. Don’t vanish again!

  “You needed light,” Manchego went on with his taunting. “You needed a mommy who loved you. A family who cherished you. If you’d had all that, nothing of this would have happened. Just imagine. You could be so peaceful, far away from all these efforts of yours. All for what? To show the world what you’re capable of? So much death just to show you’re capable of it?

  “The fact is, you’re just one more tragedy, one more sad story of an innocent soul who was tortured and twisted forever. Can’t you see, Arg? The cycle of suffering and sadness can end now. Here.

  “Let go of your weapon and stop this evil you’ve created. With this vortex, all you’ll do is bring the universe to an end and the universe is what you want to impress! What purpose will you have left then, when the universe is nothing? You’ll be a king without a kingdom, a leader without followers. You’ll be perpetual darkness without light. And without light, darkness has no meaning.”

  These words affected Argbralius. Manchego became aware of that when he felt as though a hand was loosening its grip on something it was zealously holding. Alac’s essence shone with greater intensity, like a beacon that warns of danger. Manchego began to tug at the God of Light’s essence, warming his soul in its flames.

  Just a little more, Alac, Manchego thought. You’re almost free of the spell. Nearly there! Hold on!

  “Perhaps that’s what I’m looking for. The light in the dark,” Argbralius reasoned, now more hesitantly. He put his free hand to his chin and raised his eyes, analyzing his situation. “And here you are, the God of Light. So if I kill you and absorb your essence, I’ll be able to acquire the powers of light and with them, I could rule over both darkness and light. Then I’ll become an all-powerful god. Imagine it! I could be Mórofos and Désofor at the same time! It would be the perfect blend of the Old Gods and the new ones. It would be a deeply impressive phenomenon. If I leave a handful of beings alive, I’ll have someone to worship me! They’ll regard me as the creator of darkness and the bringer of fortune at the same time! It’s a brilliant idea, Manchego. I’m grateful to you for this wonderful idea.

  “I can imagine planets and cultures erecting temples in my name! A whole new religion being dedicated to my blessed image! It’s perfect! Now then, it’s time to die, Alac. I knew that keeping you alive was the right thing to do. Besides, I enjoyed sharing my old memories with you, the ones that explain why I’m what I am.”

  Manchego was aware of the moment Alac Arc Ángelo’s essence freed itself from the spell and came to occupy a space in his soul again. The transition from Manchego to Alac was done subtly so that Argbralius would not notice that now, Alac Arc Ángelo had taken over the boy’s body.

  “Now you will realize the price you pay when a tortured soul fails to resolve its miseries,” Alac said. His voice, now deeper, became assertive. His gaze turned hard.

  Argbralius became aware of the change. He knew that something was not right, and pointed his sword at the young man who was still propped on his elbows on the ground.

  “Alac!” he cried with renewed fury.

  Alac Arc Ángelo exploded in a blast of light. All of a sudden Teitú, who had been a prisoner on the cross, was free in a burst of blinding light. From one instant to the next, Alac was clad in his bright armor once more. His spear of light appeared in one hand and his shield in the other, both shining with blinding light. The black and grey world created by Argbralius was lit up by the flames of the God of Light’s armor. A great aura of strength surrounded Alac and dancing flames billowed from his body. From his back burst two growths, the two gallant wings opening like hands and taking on aggressive angles. Argbralius could not believe it. How the hell had he done it?

  “You’re a tragedy, Argbralius,” said Alac, now in a defensive position and waiting to be attacked. “Your entire existence has been appalling. I can understand that there were decisions that were out of your control like growing up in a broken home and not being able to choose your parents. But once you reached the age of reason, it was your responsibility to be firm with yourself and get back on to the right path. Just imagine. So much death, so much destruction, all because you’re a spoiled child. Everything would have been solved with a little love.”

  Argbralius’ eyes filled with tears. Rage now took complete possession of him. He began to grow and on his face, a web of shadows began to grow toward his head.

  “I won’t submit! I was always destined for grandeur! For greatness! I’m the most powerful being in the universe! Ahhh!”

  He attacked with all his strength. Wrath flew menacingly, its accursed blade seeking to suck the soul from the God of Light with a single stroke.

  Alac moved with all his might, blocking the attacks with his shield and stabbing with his spear. On two occasions, he managed to pierce Argbralius’ soul, his energy shriveling up a piece of his ill-treated spirit.

  “This is what I wanted!” Argbralius cried in fury. “A hard fight to earn the throne of the universe for myself!” He unleashed a swift attack that Alac barely managed to avoid.

  The sword flew in an arc, nearly decapitating Alac. Reacting to the force of the blow, he turned with the movement and shrewdly managed to take advantage of a weakness in the young man’s guard. He buried his spear in his side, piercing his entire body. The sword flew to the opposite side in another horizontal arc, seeking to sever Alac’
s neck. He failed once again when the God of Light ducked. At that moment, Alac rammed him with his shield so forcefully that he sent his opponent stumbling backward. Argbralius fell and rolled until he was left hanging on the edge of the precipice. The sword Wrath the Godslayer spun a couple of times on the ground until its pommel went over the edge of that circle and fell into the void.

  “Noooo!” Argbralius howled. The possessed youth let go of the edge and was lost in the abyss, following the sword.

  Alac, you managed to save me! Teitú said in thought.

  It’s nothing, my little friend. I had to return the favor at some point.

  Alac could not believe that this was truly the end. He went over to the edge to see what was at the bottom. The void was black, abundant, and bottomless. Wait a minute… Something was rising from the depths. His blood froze when he saw a massive demon several strides tall emerging from the void. The creature had Argbralius’ face, but the body of something out of a nightmare.

  The world changed. Alac rose into the air with a single thrust of his wings to avoid falling into the precipice when the ground disappeared. It was obvious that it was not going to be so easy to defeat Argbralius when he was the one who controlled this little world, this dimension. The empty space was replaced by a great plain full of traps and holes where a green, infernal light shone from a volcanic caldera.

  Alac felt himself being suffocated by toxic gases. He recognized at once that among those traps were corpses reaching their hands to the sky, lit by the green infernal light coming out of those accursed pits. The God of Light knew that these were portals of energy destined to absorb his soul when he fell in the same way as when he had been defeated by Legionaer in San San-Tera.

  “You thought it would be easy!?” Argbralius shouted in a sibilant howl. His face was no longer human. It was now transformed into a combination of snake and man. “I am the most powerful being in the universe! Here is the key to your destruction! Watch how I’ll torture you with your own memories!”

  The demon took Wrath the Godslayer and swallowed it whole. From one moment to the next, he was transformed into the Dragon of Fire, Folfiri.

  “With the essence of all the Gods and so many mages, I can choose who to become. I’ll kill you in the image of your dear friend, the Dragon of Fire who was brother to your own beast Róganok. Now suffer!”

  Teitú lashed out in a furious outburst that sent crimson light everywhere. Alac absorbed its vitality and launched himself into the attack.

  Folfiri began to send whirlwinds of fire that Alac dodged easily, flying with enormous skill and coming ever closer to his opponent.

  Argbralius changed the pattern of his attack. He was now the God of Earth. He sent a terrible earthquake that shook the dimension from side to side so that Alac lost his balance.

  The possessed youth then adopted the shape of Mórgomiel, except that instead of two arms and two legs, he now had six long legs like a giant insect. At the same time, his body became a globe made up of faces. They were the faces of his victims.

  Horrified, Alac now saw faces he recognized in that hideous globe that made up Mórgomiel’s body. He saw the faces of Kágalath, Thérometh, Fégolath, Lorambar, Gordbaklala, Balthazar, the Black Queen of the Morelia Abyss, and finally, Mérdmerén! How the hell had he gotten here?

  All those faces were suffering in silence with expressions of eternal torture, weeping without tears, crying out without words. There was no peace for the souls buried within the curse of Wrath the Godslayer.

  “Suffer! Watch your loved ones being tortured! All those gods who died at the mercy of Wrath! Here is the head of Gordbaklala. Do you want it?

  Argbralius took the head and threw it at him with enormous force. Alac was hit so hard that he was hurled back and almost fell into one of the traps. Several hands of the dying figures tried to reach him, but he was a safe distance from the horror.

  He felt a stunned heaviness at the sight of that face, still moving with its expression disfigured by suffering. There were so many souls sacrificed and so much suffering to gain control. And for what?

  He was left petrified. Nothing made sense anymore. What benefit would Argbralius get from controlling everything? To what end? He sounded sick and deranged. All those souls were still trapped within Wrath the Godslayer. For thousands of years, their essences had remained prisoners, subjected to his enchantments.

  “Aren’t you tired of suffering by now? Don’t you see it, Alac? There’s no way out of here. You’ve fallen into my dimension. I control everything here. You’re alive because I enjoy torturing you. In the meantime, the all-consuming vortex follows its course to devour the world. You and I could fight for all eternity but outside, your family and your friends die slowly, devoured inevitably by this divine creation.”

  Those words shook Alac more than anything else. He thought of Lulita, Luchy, Rufus. Of Lombardo, Ajedrea, and Ságamas. Of Funia, Turi, and the Baron. Of the elves, centaurs, he-goats, and insects. They were all falling without mercy.

  An idea crossed his mind like a flash of light. How could it not have occurred to him before? The sword Wrath the Godslayer had been created with a powerful spell that allowed it to absorb souls. What if he could change the force of suction to one of expulsion and reverse the spell? That might just be the key, the trick which would free all those possessed souls. If he could free them and their essences, then Argbralius would lose the power they granted him.

  He focused his gaze on his target. It’s now or never, he thought. He began to shine with great intensity, his light turning incandescent. He shot out like a fiery arrow and pierced the center of the monster.

  Argbralius burst out laughing. “Try it. I’m invincible, little God of Light. Do you really think that with your acceleration and heat you can damage my enchanted soul? Wait, what are you doing? No! Don’t touch—don’t touch it! Get out of there!”

  The monster stumbled from one side to the other while it clutched its innards, unable to control what was happening inside it. “Get out of there! Don’t touch the sword!”

  Alac had penetrated the monster’s core, a sphere. Inside it was Wrath the Godslayer, the source of Argbralius’ powers. Without it, he would become a mere wraith, a wandering spirit.

  This sword was created from the beginning of time, the God of Light thought. It was created to consume everything its master ordered. It contains so many souls that long to be free. Well, today the day of freedom has come. Be free, tortured souls. This horror stops here. Now.

  Alac shone with incandescent brightness in the core of the monster, melting the sword with his heat. The monster’s flesh vanished, and in the center, there remained the energy equivalent to the core of the sun.

  Alac! Teitú shouted at him. This will consume you completely!

  “My brother. Help me. This madness has to end. It has to end forever. We have to free these souls and melt this accursed sword. Let it be our sacrifice.” Alac’s voice was feeble now since all his vitality was focused on generating heat extreme enough to melt the sword.

  “You must help me, Teitú,” he begged. “Explode with me. This is our last effort.”

  Teitú gave himself up, knowing the price he would pay in exchange. All right, Alac. To the end!

  “No!” cried Argbralius’ soul which was no more than a presence, a bodiless mote. “Please don’t do that! No! Without it, I’ll have no power! I’ll be nothing! Nobody! Stop!”

  Alac and Teitú fused into a blaze of enormous power. When that incandescence reached its highest temperature, Wrath the Godslayer began to bend, its magical powers melting and vanishing into nothing. The pressure of the thousands of souls accumulated within it exploded.

  Chapter LXII — Ethereal

  “He’s just a young man. So innocent,” said a voice. “He fought with such force that it’s something to be deeply admired.”

  “His strength of conviction is admirable,” another voice said. “He’s proved he’s capable. Was capable.”
/>   “Quiet,” came a third voice. “Here he comes.”

  Alac felt a wave of celestial peace break over his body. Everything and nothing was filled by this impressive and delightful existence that calmed all his senses. He had felt it before, several times. He was sure of who he was and he let it fill his existence.

  He blinked several times and found himself floating in a sky-blue space. Surprised, he turned to look to one side and the other, up and down. Apart from seeing his arms, legs, torso, and abdomen, all he could see was the eternal blue light around him.

  In front of him, someone else was floating. He studied him with the same boredom a cat feels studying another cat, but soon, the details caught his attention. That face. He recognized it. It was Argbralius. He was immobile, floating in the same blue ether, and dressed in a simple white toga of cotton. There were no signs of violence on the young man’s features, and his skin, hair, and the rest of his body were intact. He turned to look again, first to one side and then to the other, and noticed Teitú beside him, floating and shining with a rosy hue. Judging by the color and the energy that emanated from the seraph, he knew he was peaceful.

  More beings appeared. At first, they were a mist that slowly solidified until it formed a clear, unmistakable image.

  He saw Balthazar. The Wild Man’s face was no longer hardened by years of vigilance and suffering. He looked strong and young, his hair long and black. Manchego knew he was seeing Balthazar when he bore the name Tzargorg with honor. His old master looked happy, strong, and complete. He was breathing peacefully and looking at him proudly, although neither his lips nor his eyes moved. Manchego felt sad to see him in the form of a spirit. He knew that he had died, and the Wild Man, the great shaman, had sacrificed his life to save the universe. Wait a moment. His body was translucent. Was it because he was looking at his soul?

  Beside Balthazar floated what the soul of the Black Queen of the Morelia Abyss. She, too, seemed to be in her youth, for she did not have the tense face of one eaten up by the travails of life. Her ten arms floated limply around her like her head, which seemed to have tentacles instead of strands of hair.