Malcor's Story

by Eric K. Barnum

  The general withdrew his sword at the daimo’s express command. Itain continued, “I think we should speak with it. For Tania, I will be happy to accompany you my lord. I also think you’d be foolish to not rebuild your wall. Even if the lich smashes it down a thousand times, your people’s morale requires action. But, really, what you most need at this time is first, for the attacks to end and second, for a brave group of heroes to step forth and neutralize the lich so it no longer menaces Ori nor can pose a threat through the Jade God. In short, you need more time. Talking with it may give us that. The longer term one, tell me, does Ori have such heroes?” Itain's eyes locked on the general's as he added, “Who is not scared of an eldar lich?”

  The general quivered and then drew his sword against Dar Itain again. In a blink, Itain parried the attack and said, “Only a great coward would attack a friend.” In that heartbeat and with Itain's words goading him, the General raged, too furious to listen to the calls to stop. Itain stood his ground and parried the wild attack. A lucky thrust reached in and scratched Itain's cheek tracing a thin red line. The daimo screamed for the general to stop and the Temple priests looked confused, not wanting to stop the General, not wanting to disobey the daimo.

  “You are the coward!” the general screamed as he unleashed a lightning attack through his sword at the ambassador. Itain raised the Queen’s symbol on his sword and unflinchingly stood as the lightning slammed into him.

  “I ride the hurricane of Chaos and stand untouched,” he recited scripture from the Book of Fire. “I am the hurricane.” The bolt sizzled and pulsed and Itain stood there, completely unaffected. When the blast and noise ended, Itain said, “Dar Rojo holds your religion and culture in the highest respect daimo. The empire of Morbatten stands by Ori,” he looked at the general readying for another attack. “I am the hurricane!” Itain said in draconian and his sword crackled to life with the Queen’s energy. His avenger, unsheathed, gleamed in the room’s light and Itain observed, “No wonder your southern gate fell so easily, if men such as these guard it.”

  The general lost it and threw himself at Itain, who stood there, his blade poised and ready. At the last moment, a monk of Imperius side-kicked the general away from impaling himself on the ambassador's blade. The general crashed to the side whirling on his assailant. That the side-kick came from a high priest and grandmaster of Imperius did not seem to phase him, or perhaps his rage blinded him. Itain stood still, like a statue, and remained poised to strike. As the general started to scream a challenge, the daimo’s sword cut through his arms and the general’s sword fell to the ground. “Remove and imprison this… thing” the daimo ordered. “I have no room for generals who turn on our friends while real enemies ravage our borders.”

  The general was dragged out of the room and Itain relaxed his stance. His holy avenger, his paladin sword, calmed and was resheathed with a whispered prayer. The grandmaster of Imperius bowed and expressed gratitude, “My lord daimo, I apologize for interrupting but did not wish to continue insulting our northern friend. Dar Itain withstood shameful behavior far longer than most of his people. Consider his king for example.” He bowed lowed to the daimo and then to Itain. “Our apologies Dar Itain.”

  The council resumed discussion, this time around preparations to secure the daimo. After some time, the daimo stood signaling the end of discussion. “Grandmaster, you and the Lord Ambassador shall accompany me. Generals, make ready for full attack and prepare the walls for defense.” He bowed. The others, kneeling, returned it and then one by one left until only Dar Itain remained with the daimo.

  After ensuring they were alone, Itain bowed again and whispered to the daimo, “The dragon emperor sends the Order of Water. Our objective tomorrow must be to extend the cease fire. The Order of Water will be the heroes I spoke of and will find and neutralize the lich. Even if a lost eldar, Tania cannot risk a Hellhound rising up in Khasra. We cannot afford it, neither can Ori I think.”

  The daimo looked into a brazier’s burning coals and lost in thought asked, “Why is it that Tania not Sora responds to our request for aid?”

  “Is it your intent to suggest that we planned it this way?”

  “No,” the daimo said. “No, not at all. Just that Sora could if it wanted to. I have heard stories. I find it odd that our more closely aligned-in-spirit allies to your north” referring to Taysor “always offer to send aid that arrives after Tania. And again, Morbatten is here and they are not.”

  Itain smiled and bowed, “Tania honors its commitments lord daimo. Surely Taysor has mages that can send their ambassador here, or like Tania, maintain a gate. Dar Rojo still desires formal establishment of an Imperic dojo at our Temple mount.”

  The daimo breathed in the brazier’s incense and then sighed. “I wish to see your great city before I die. Rojo was an amazing student. I remember him never smiling, never laughing. But his technique and focus. Unparalleled. Please…”

  “It shall be done my lord,” and Itain bowed low. “The dragon emperor himself shall greet you and tour the Queen’s temple with you. If I may, the Order of Water is led by Dar Kendra, the sister of the High Priest Kell. It is the strongest paladin order. They and their entourage will arrive soon and I have preparations to make for the Order's arrival.”

  Alone now at last, the daimo sat back and thought on his eighty years of life… and his fallen southern gate. “I will not be remembered as the daimo who lost the south, but who saved it.”

  Chapter Twenty One – Malcor versus the Undead

  Malcor dodged to the side as a ghoul threw itself slavering at his face. Though his sword connected just fine, the ghoul barely noticed its oozing entrails and readied to jump again. As he had just been taught, Malcor stood tall and firm, almost defenseless and presented the Queen’s symbol on his sword. A crimson light kindled there and then sparked as Malcor commanded, “Hear me now, and obey, or die!”

  The ghoul retreated a step and eyed Malcor ferociously. Malcor’s fellow knights stood around them in a circle. Of them all, Mal presented the easiest target. The ghoul readied to jump attack and Malcor repeated the command, “Hear me now, and obey or die!” The crimson light reached out and struck the ghoul’s chest appearing to lock there and a battle of wills ensued. It had been like this since Malcor had opened his eyes and realized he had died. Before he could even ask about it, Tembri had shoved him back into the combat rune.

  Tembri spoke from behind Malcor, “The ability to control or even destroy undead is a power granted to divine servants of any god. Our Queen allows us control, but it is a fragile thing. Too much control and you destroy them. Not enough and they attack you. Focus on bending it, like a green twig, but do not break it.

  “Obey, and kneel!” The ghoul shook and as if an invisible hand pressed into its back, it kneeled. A look of hatred, confusion, and then berserker rage fought across its fanged jowls. “You will remain kneeling and take no action!”

  Malcor thought his voice sounded tenuous and unsure, even panicky. One of the dead corpses arose as another ghoul. The strain of holding the one ghoul’s obedience while fighting off a savage attack resulted in Malcor almost losing control of the one and getting killed by the other. Bleeding and covered in drool, Malcor felt the telltale feeling of paralysis from the ghoul’s numbing attacks, but stood firm. Like the other, he created a space and raised his symbol. He also signaled for healing.

  Lack of sleep and overall healing fatigue had quickly caught up to him. Healing Fatigue, a problem suffered by combatants healed too many times over a short period of time, sapped vitality and energy and focus. Healing could mend wounds and restore mental acuity but used too much, the toll on the body added up. Malcor guessed he had died and been healed at least a hundred times since training started yesterday. He fought while eating and drank while healing. Foe upon foe came at him until, with shock, he found his sword had cut apart a human criminal… who then became the first ghoul. Eventually, even if healed, the human body shuts down. It could still b
e healed but the mind, heart, and soul needs rest and eventually it asserts that need with unconsciousness. His training would take him beyond.

  The room swam and Malcor struggled against it as the healing spell mended his wounds. “Hear me now, and obey or die!” he commanded. The second ghoul clawed at its own face and pranced around Malcor on its knees, whimpering at the other ghoul as if urging it to break Mal’s control and then break Malcor.

  “Stay focused Malcor. Think of the ghoul obeying as you would your arm. It is part of you. You are tired. Think. What can you do to retain control and also deal with your enemy?” Tembri’s deep voice barely registered with Malcor, but somehow he turned his attention to the obedient one and ordered it to defend him.

  The kneeling ghoul leapt and attacked the other ghoul. It gave Malcor time to marshal his will and try again. Tembri’s lecture continued, “The healing fatigue you feel is similar to the feeling many undead attacks have. Shadows, wraiths, vampires, and other more powerful can drain your vitality. Some do it by touch, others can do so as a form of ranged attack. When you feel this fatigue, and you don’t know why – like frequent healings or lack of sleep, you know you are being attacked. As a knight, your power will grow quickly until you can resist such attacks. For now, you feel the ghoul’s paralysis. You will feel lethargic, but you can’t let a feeling win. All warriors suffer from battle fatigue. Know it. As a knight, it is your choice to be paralyzed. Do not let the ghouls win!”

  Malcor caught his breath and regained his footing and composure. The ghouls fought ferociously nearby, just out of arm’s reach. He steeled his will on the one he controlled and renewed his command, “Defend only, do not attack.”

  “Very good Sir Malcor. You cannot turn a creature that is being attacked by your will.”

  He pointed his dragon symbol at the other ghoul and boldly ordered, “Obey me, or die!” He tried again, “In the name of Takhissis, I command you to obey!”

  The ghoul, like the other one, grew confused and then clawed at its ears. Malcor felt a tenor of control assert itself. The ghoul calmed and sat back on its haunches. The other retained its defensive posture though still kneeling. Malcor, ordered both to stand at attention and then to hold hands and then to play leapfrog. The hatred burning in their eyes never left but his control felt absolute.

  His legs, no his entire body, felt shaky with exhaustion. He looked at his hands and it trembled so badly he could barely see it shaking. It just kind of blurred back and forth. Dar Kendra walked up to the edge of the combat rune and commented. “You are doing well, but to defeat a lich, you must do better. As you can see, the ghouls obey you, but their hatred for you grows the longer you enforce that obedience. Eventually, it will break and they will turn on with all that pent up hatred. However, we need to test your boundaries Malcor. Ghouls are the highest form of undead that lack free will. What is the next highest?”

  “Ghasts, they organize ghouls into hunting packs, like an alpha wolf with a pack. If you see a ghast, ghouls and other ghasts will be nearby. They are larger than ghouls and will often acquire armor and weapons. They lead from behind, usually.”

  “Indeed. And higher than that?” Malcor responded with “wraiths”, “mummy”, “shadow”, “vampire”, and lastly “lich”. Dar Kendra looked at the ghouls as their hatred threatened to overtake Malcor’s control. “And is this an absolute hierarchy?”

  Malcor looked up at her, taken aback by the question. “It is the hierarchy I have been taught. That everyone knows. But, I suppose hellhounds and the Jade God himself would top out that hierarchy?”

  Behind Dar Kendra, three hooded figures appeared. They walked forward into the pale light of the combat rune’s circle and pulled their hoods back. Each looked like a powerful if older man but had a pale complexion, way too pale for their dark hair and midnight pools of blackness in their eyes. Dar Kendra said, “Malcor, allow me to introduce you to the three vampire generals of Bloodstone. Crea, Malcom, and Nineveh. Though vampires rank lower than liches in terms of undeath, these three are examples of how there are ranks upon ranks of power in any level of undeath. These three are free-willed, and at one time they commanded the hellhounds. Now, they are wards of the dragon emperor.”

  The three of them bowed slightly. Malcor remembered something about vampire generals but his vision swam and he gratefully welcomed the break to eat and drink. The one introduced as Crea stepped forward. He said, “I was a priest and a mage in the service of the divine god Pha Rann when an eldar vampire took me. Malcolm," he gestured to his side and the other, "served as the high priest of the worship of Braden the Healer. Nineveh was a mage on the brink of ascension. The Jade God took us and we were controlled much like you have those two ghouls. Never forget, in undeath, the dead retain some measure of their mortal power. Nineveh, as a zombie,” they all laughed, “would be a terrible zombie to have to fight.”

  Malcor hoped to buy more time and said, "It is an honor to meet you. Thank you. Thank you so much for coming to help. I'm curious though. How did the Jade God take you? Braden, if I remember right, is the super good god of healing? I also don't understand the hellhound thing."

  Verit started to answer but Crea nodded and said, "The Jade God's primary tool here is the Sceptre bearing his name. It is a magical artifact that, unlike a god leaving its throneplane, does not weaken. The sceptre can take any creature and possess it. Even us. Bearers of the sceptres are called Hellhounds. Unlike all undead, Hellhounds are free-willed. Think of them as the generals, avatars, perhaps even angels of the Jade God. The Jade God created it here in this world and it copies itself into a weaker form we call Wands of that god. Any of the three of us could have destroyed the wands. But the sceptre is a different story. Having been taken by it, we guess it could take a god."

  Behind him, Nineveh agreed and Mal remembered that Nineveh was the one ‘close to ascension’. "So you were all hellhounds?"

  Kendra interrupted, “Malcor, we have to know the extent of your favor with the Queen. The ghoul challenge is usually not attempted for several years after the second rite, and then only in Bloodstone. These three are here to test your limits. I know you’re tired. I know you are exhausted. Make yourself ready and signal when you are.”

  Malcor shook his legs and arms. Looking over at the ghouls, he re-seized active control and felt their hatred spike. At his command, they fell back to their haunches. Their finger claws spastically reaching out to Malcor and then falling back in confusion as he directed absolute obedience at them. He heard Kendra order Tembri to refrain from helping.

  Chapter Twenty Two – Malcor Climbs the Undead Ladder

  Crea walked into the rune and with a casual wave of his hand, the ghouls charred to dust. “Obedience requires a higher level of focus, as you have experienced. Combat, other things that distract, and the undead will seek to break free. They hate that you're controlling them. I'm sure you feel it,” Crea said. “As a paladin, the pain, suffering, rage, perhaps even fear, or love… all of these become weapons to either help you control or destroy the undead. More powerful undead though can manipulate your focus. If you use love as your driver, as a vampire, I can sense that and project fear of losing your loved ones against you. These battles of will are deadly. You will almost always be better off destroying them rather than controlling them.

  "There are levels of undead that you cannot even imagine Malcor. Entire worlds in the Jade God's realm are full of them, waiting to come here and feast. The Hellhounds, like their god, want to freeze this world in decay, and stop the River. Tania’s philosophy is not to categorize or organize the undead, it is to slay them all. Permanently. Disintegration by magic or fire, or beheading does the trick.”

  A knight brought a chained prisoner to the combat rune. The prisoner looked petrified with fear. After removing the prisoner’s shackles, the knight shoved the prisoner into the rune circle. He immediately fell to his face and began begging for mercy. "I will show you," the vampire said to Malcor, and also the audience
that had come to see the famous vampire generals. Crea pointed his finger at the groveling prisoner and said, “Why do you tremble? Put your fear aside. I am your friend. Do you fear execution based on your murder of that little child last month? Look, as your friend, I get it. It wasn’t your fault. Shhh, there now. Listen, it’s going to be all right. No one is here to execute you. Far from it! The emperor has decided to give you a second chance!”

  Crea’s voice had an echo of magic behind it. It suggested pleasure, comfort, and safety. The man looked up. His eyes still held fear and terror, but his face relaxed and he asked, “You are my friend?”

  Crea nodded. “Come stand by me.” The man stood and practically danced to Crea’s side. He looked relieved and happy, like a convict released from jail to a dear friend's welcome. “Malcor,” and that same spellsong called to Malcor, “Come stand by me as well.”

  One of Malcor’s legs twitched and he stepped forward. Though he tried to resist that charmed welcome, he started another step. Crea’s eyes bore into Malcor’s. “Why do you resist Brother Malcor? You are tired. Wounded. Why keep fighting for your dreams when I can give you relief. Your dreams are here with me. Don't you want them now?” His body lurched forward. Thoughts of relief, of a hot bath with R’Dar Ora, of food, of sleep filled his mind.

  Crea’s voice pulled him forward another step, “All these things are yours, just a few more steps and you’ll be here with me. Such a good boy, such a good warrior. You are exhausted. That girl, Ora, she wants you. This training, this test takes you away from her love.”

  In his mind, Malcor knew this to be a test of his will but Crea’s voice and that power… the test felt suddenly unfair, everything about it. He just wanted to be a knight. What did any of this so-called “training” have to do with being a paladin? Calvin surely was not training himself to death right now. He knew Ora was watching him and he knew she wanted to be with him. He could feel her hands remembered touch from the day before. He wouldn’t have to fight a lich of all things… his body smoothed out a bit and he took a normal step forward and then stopped.