by Dean Cadman
Lord Zelroth finished his preparations and turned to address the prisoners.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen, oh, and lady,” he said, inclining his head slightly towards the woman within the group. “I’m sure you already know why you are all here, and what might happen to you within this room. I’m afraid, everything you have heard is true. But I can promise you two things. Firstly, not everyone in this room needs to die today. Not unless any of you are foolish enough to try and escape, that is. And secondly, if you are selected, I can assure you that no amount of struggling will change the outcome of your fate. All it will do is shorten the amount of time you will have, once the Aznavor starts feeding on you. So, you may be asking yourself this question: why shouldn’t I fight back, when I’m going to die anyway? Well let me tell you. If you try to fight back and waste your energy reserves, one or more of those people standing next to you, will have to make up that deficit. If that happens, it’s quite possible that none of you may live to see tomorrow. Then I would have the hardship of sending for more prisoners,” Lord Zelroth said with a sarcastic smile.
Standing to the side of the room was a single Inquisitor in bright red robes. At a silent command from Lord Zelroth he walked slowly to the centre of the room, stopping briefly in front of each prisoner to assess their magical capabilities on his way. Lord Zelroth turned his back to the prisoners, and began to chant a spell over and over. At first nothing seemed to happen, but after a moment a small silver disc appeared in front of him, floating at about chest height. It seemed to be spinning in mid air, and gradually increased in size, until it was twice the height of Lord Zelroth, and four times as wide. When he finally finished the incantation, the giant disc resembled a pool of silver liquid, rippling and moving as if disturbed by some great unseen force. Lord Zelroth signalled the Inquisitor, and the process began.
The Inquisitor pointed to one of the prisoners, and his legs buckled under him with fear. He pleaded for his life, as the Darkseed Elite dragged him back to his feet, but no one took any notice of him. The other prisoners remained silent and still, not wanting to draw attention to themselves in any way, while their fellow cellmate was dragged towards the waiting Aznavor. The creature shrieked with anticipation, knowing it was about to be fed once more. It surged forwards towards the man, straining at its bonds, reaching towards him with its six long tentacles, and opening its huge jaws to reveal the utter blackness within. It seemed to be reaching for the man with every essence of its being, but he remained just out of reach of the creature, whimpering and begging for his life. One push from the Darkseed Elite, and the man came within range of the creature’s influence. He froze in place, fighting against the mental control it exerted over him. Every blind-eyed tentacle now pointing directly towards him, and boring its way into his mind. He screamed in absolute terror, when first his left leg took an involuntary step towards the creature, then his right followed it. Each agonizing step took him closer to the creature, and his ultimate death. As he came closer to the creature, its control over his body became absolute, and the man walked right up to it. The Aznavor opened its huge jaws, reared up, and swallowed the top half of the man whole, clamping its thin six inch long fangs into his chest. The man screamed in agony, but the Aznavor didn’t bite deep enough to kill him. Instead, it started to drain his magical energy slowly through its razor sharp fangs.
The silver liquid shimmered, and rippled as the Aznavor began to vent its surplus energy back into the Netherworld. Lord Zelroth waited patiently for his God to appear before him, not even noticing when the second prisoner began begging and screaming for his life to be spared. A moment later Aamon’s image suddenly appeared within the silver liquid disc. Lord Zelroth fell to his knees, and prostrated himself on the floor before his God.
“Lord, I serve you in all things, as always,” Lord Zelroth said reverently.
“Report!” Aamon’s booming voice replied.
“Our troops are now massed outside the Deceiver’s home city. Soon we will claim their power source, and use it to free you from the Netherworld once more, my Lord.”
“And then I will let my new Netherworld army loose to cleanse the world of my siblings’ filthy creations once and for all. You have done well my disciple. I will make sure that you are rewarded appropriately when the time comes, of that you can be certain,” Aamon said, his image fading away inside the liquid silver disc. Lord Zelroth remained on his knees until the prisoner took his last breath and the Aznavor bit him clean in two with frustration at there being no more magical energy forthcoming. The woman screamed, then collapsed onto the floor in a quivering mess, while the other two prisoners shook uncontrollably at the sight they had just witnessed. Lord Zelroth didn’t even notice, he simply stood up and left the Aznavor room without looking back, leaving the Darkseed Elite guards to return the prisoners to their cells.
Chapter Forty
Every village and town they had passed through had already shared a similar fate to Prystone. The buildings were burned, livestock slaughtered, and supplies plundered or destroyed. And just like Prystone, the Empire agents had left their hideously damaged undead behind, to cause further heartache and destruction for anyone attempting to return home to their village or town. Each day Lusam’s party arrived at a new town or village, killed the undead there, then found themselves a secure place to spend the night. They did sometimes come across survivors of the attacks, but they were few and far between. Twice they had managed to learn of another village on their planned route from those survivors they encountered—ones that were close enough to reach before nightfall, thus enabling them to cover more distance than they might have done otherwise.
They had discussed the possibilities of taking the survivors with them to Lamuria, but had quickly decided against the idea. They simply didn’t have the resources to feed them, or indeed, guarantee their safety once they arrived at Lamuria. Lusam had healed any injured villagers they came across, and enchanted each one of them a basic weapon so they could kill any wandering undead they may encounter later. He explained that the weapons would only kill a certain number of undead before they became useless again, but he felt much better about having to leave them there alone, knowing that they could at least protect themselves once he had gone.
At the beginning of their journey, Rebekah and Kayden had been terrified of the first undead villager they had encountered outside Prystone. They had panicked, kicking and screaming to be let go, so they could run and hide from the creature. Lusam and Alexia had kept tight hold of them both and reassured them that they were perfectly safe behind Lusam’s magic shield. When the undead villager bumped into Lusam’s shield and couldn’t get any closer, they began to visibly relax a little. Alexia had explained that the damaged undead-villagers were not really a threat to them, as long as they could see them coming. She had shown Rebekah and Kayden her glowing bow and Renn’s sword, explaining how they would always warn them—by glowing brightly—if any undead were nearby. Lusam had suggested that he dispose of the undead-villager by incinerating it, but Alexia said she had a better idea, one that would show the children that they weren’t so scary after all.
She had dismounted her horse, leaving Rebekah alone in the saddle, and removed one of her blessed arrows. She asked Lusam to let her pass through the rear of his magical shield, and then winked at Rebekah and Kayden. Once she had left the protection of Lusam’s shield, she casually walked around it, towards the front of his barrier, where the undead-villager had still been trying to batter its way inside. When it had finally noticed her, it began shuffling towards her. She had taunted it, by tapping her arrow on the top of its head at arm’s length, and then walked slowly in a wide circle, proving to the children how slowly and cumbersome the creature moved. Rebekah had still looked concerned for Alexia’s well-being, but Kayden was soon laughing at the pathetic attempts of the creature to catch up with Alexia. Then, after walking around in circles for a while, Alexia had taken one of her arrows and pretended to prick her fing
er with its tip. She had made a strange face, suggesting that it was sharp, and it had hurt her finger. It had reminded Lusam of a carnival attraction he had seen in Helveel with Neala, where a man had exaggerated his movements to tell a story, but without speaking any words. Alexia then grinned, and pointed to her own buttock with the tip of the arrow, making the same strange face again, before pointing towards the undead-villager’s buttock. Rebekah and Kayden both understood the implied suggestion from Alexia, and had cheered their support for it loudly. Kayden had even clapped his hands as if he had been at a carnival watching an actual show. Alexia waited until the undead villager had its back to the others, then she had swiftly moved behind it, letting the children clearly see her gently jab the undead villager’s buttock with her arrow. The undead villager fell forward dead, and the children cheered wildly, as if she had been a great heroine battling a giant foe.
Lusam had felt mixed emotions over that incident. On the one hand, he felt bad for the dignity of the once innocent villager, but on the other hand, if it helped reduce the children’s anxiety a little during their journey to Lamuria, he felt it was probably worth the indignity caused.
That had been six days ago, and since then they had cleared eight towns and villages of undead, and were now almost within sight of Lamuria.
“Lamuria is just over this next ridge,” Renn announced, as if reading Lusam’s own thoughts.
“What do you expect we’ll find when we get there?” Lusam asked, hoping they were still in time to help save the city.
“I’m not sure, lad…” Renn began to say, suddenly pulling his horse to a stop as they crested the hill. “But certainly not that,” he said in complete shock.
“Oh, Gods!” Neala whispered loudly, as she too saw the scene before them.
Covering the entire valley floor below them were tens of thousands of undead. Not the slow-moving, damaged kind like they had been killing for the previous six days, but the fully mobile and deadly kind, like they had faced in The Elveen Mountains.
“Aysha have mercy on us all,” Renn whispered. He dismounted his horse, removed his sword and plunged it into the ground, then he immediately fell to his knees in prayer, both hands still gripping his sword tightly. Alexia approached Renn’s side, unable to take her eyes off the valley floor below. Eventually, she too dropped to her knees next to Renn in prayer, asking Aysha to watch over them all, and give them the strength they would need to survive what was about to come. Neala came to stand by Lusam, holding both children by their hands. No words could describe the scene before them. There were so many undead, the entire valley floor seemed to be moving.
Lusam could just about make out several small pockets within the writhing mass of undead below. When he looked again, this time using his mage-sight, he could clearly see the bright blue auras of the paladins, as they hopelessly battled against the insurmountable number of undead. Lusam noticed a single magical-missile arc through the air and impact close to a group of battling paladins, fortunately killing only the undead it hit. When Lusam checked where missile had come from with his mage-sight, he gasped loudly.
“What is it… what do you see?” asked Neala, sounding very concerned by his sudden outburst. Lusam turned towards her, only now noticing that she was standing so close to him. He slowly turned back towards what he had just seen, trying hard to convince his own mind that it was not actually real, and only a figment of his imagination, but the terrifying sight remained. On the opposite side of the huge valley, high up on the tops of the cliffs, were thousands of magi. Their collective auras burned like a crimson sun. There were so many, it was impossible to count them all, but Lusam guessed there were at least five thousand of them—far more than he could possibly hope to defeat alone. To Lusam, the battle seemed lost before it had even begun.
“Thousands of Empire magi,” Lusam replied quietly, pointing towards the far horizon.
“Oh, Gods, no,” Neala whispered, scanning the cliff-tops at the far end of the valley.
“Lusam, look…” Neala said breathlessly, pointing towards Lamuria. Lusam looked in the direction she was pointing, and was about to ask her what she was looking at, when she spoke again.
“It’s Lamuria!” she said, still pointing at the city below with her mouth open in awe. Lusam looked at her strangely, worried that the sudden shock of what was before them, was to blame for her stating such an obvious thing.
“Are you alright?” he asked, slightly concerned for her state of mind. She frowned when she saw the look of concern on his face, realising he still hadn’t made the connection himself.
“Look… it’s Lamuria! The painting on the ceiling in Coldmont… it’s Lamuria!” Neala said excitedly, still pointing at the city below. Lusam turned to look at the city, and truly saw it for the first time. Neala was right, it was the city painted on the ceiling of Coldmont, complete with its white marble-clad buildings, huge tower, and massive circular wall that encompassed the whole city.
“You’re right, it is,” he replied in a whisper.
“You know what that means, don’t you?” Neala asked.
“That there is a Guardian book somewhere in Lamuria,” Lusam replied, not even noticing Renn and Alexia approach behind them.
“I’ve already told you, lad, there is no Guardian book in Lamuria, or I would know about it,” Renn said confidently.
“There has to be one here. In Helveel the picture was of Coldmont, and we found one there. And in Coldmont the picture was of Lamuria, so there must be one here too,” Lusam replied.
“I’m sorry, lad, but there just isn’t,” Renn replied, genuinely sounding sorry for the answer he gave.
“Then how do you explain that?” Lusam asked, pointing towards Lamuria. The undead were pounding at the walls of the city, and with each strike, the walls shimmered red, just like the ones inside Helveel and Coldmont.
“It’s no secret that Lamuria has a magical shield, lad. That’s the only thing that has kept the Empire at bay for so long. That and its flawed intelligence of how weak we actually are,” Renn replied, placing a hand on Lusam’s shoulder. Lusam thought for a moment, about what he had read in the journal from Helveel, the Guardian’s visit there, and the construction of the book room and its defences.
“No, Renn, you’re wrong. There is a Guardian’s book in Lamuria, I just know it. That shield is exactly the same as the ones in Helveel and Coldmont, and we know for certain that both were constructed by the Guardians. The one in Helveel because it’s documented in the journal I found, and Coldmont… well, it was their main seat of power, so who else would have constructed it. And I know what you’re going to say—that you would know if there was one here, but you didn’t know about the one in Helveel, or Coldmont, so why would you have been told about the one here? You once told me that the paladins of Aysha were only privy to certain information regarding the workings of the High Temple, just in case they were ever caught and tortured for that information by The Thule Empire. I would certainly imagine the existence of a Guardian book wouldn’t be allowed to become common knowledge, even amongst the paladins of Aysha. According to the journal, the location of each Guardian book was to remain a closely guarded secret. Who knows, maybe only the High Priest knows about it, or maybe even he doesn’t. Either way, I just know there is a book here… there has to be,” Lusam said passionately.
The more Renn thought about Lusam’s words, the more it began to ring true. Why else would Lamuria have been given such a shield? It would certainly explain Lord Zelroth’s unhealthy interest in Lamuria over the last few centuries. After all, he had already discovered Coldmont, and no doubt seen the painted image of Lamuria there himself. If he too believed there was a Guardian book in Lamuria, that would explain both his single-mindedness in his pursuit of the city, and his reluctance to launch and all-out assault. For all he knew, the High Temple could be filled with powerful magi who had read the Guardian book there, making it an incredibly dangerous place to attack.
Renn knew som
ething must have spurred him into action recently, and he believed that something to be Lusam. Lord Zelroth already knew that Lusam had read at least two of the Guardian books, and now that the location of Coldmont was known, Lord Zelroth could no longer afford to wait. If he did, and those imaginary magi in the High Temple read the Guardian book in Coldmont, he would soon be faced with impossible odds. Then the final part of the puzzle fell into place for Renn, as he suddenly remembered that the image painted on the ceiling in the High Temple was that of Irragin, in Mount Nuxvar: Lord Zelroth’s seat of power, and another—highly probable—location of a Guardian book.
“I think you might be right, lad,” Renn said quietly, shaking his head in disbelief. The evidence had been staring him right in the face, and still he hadn’t seen it. “If you are right, then we need to get you inside the High Temple to read that Guardian book, lad, before they decide to launch and all-out assault. The city’s shield might stand up to those undead for a while, but it would collapse quickly against an all-out attack from those magi,” Renn said, nodding towards the far horizon, indicating that he had already seen the huge number of magi massed at the far end of the valley.