Necromancer's Curse

by D. M. Almond

  “That is the flesh golem,” Broxlin said breathlessly. “The Necromancer’s unholy titan, brought here to tear down our walls and lay waste to our defensive towers.”

  “And if the flesh golem is awake, that can only mean we are already too late,” Alma said. “The Necromancer has already retrieved the Shadow Stone.”

  Logan jumped back when the abomination turned its head and stared directly at them, as if it had heard its name being spoken.

  “Worry not,” Alma calmed the congregation. “It cannot see us.”

  “Maybe not,” Bipp said, “but he sure seems to know we’re watching…and I don’t think he’s too happy about it.”

  The flesh golem roared at the statue of Ohm and punched the floor hard enough to crack the marble tiles. Frantically, he spun in a circle and beat at his own head before darting away. The creature wrenched a long bench from the rows, knocking over two of the skeletons as he swung it around and let it fly into the head of the statue.

  Ohm’s mighty idol toppled over from the force of that wooden projectile, which was followed by a headlong tackle by the enraged creature. When it hit the ground, the stone head broke off and rolled across the room, crushing one of the skeletons. As it moved, Alama’s scrying spell did too.

  “He’s going to find your secret passage!” Logan said.

  Except when the behemoth rushed to the spot, it was only to find a solid floor underneath.

  “Gnome engineering,” Bipp said, nudging him with his elbow and throwing Logan a wink.

  “More like clerical magic,” Broxlin corrected.

  Logan heard Alma making a strange noise and looked up just in time to see the amethyst flash a brilliant pink and then dim again. A dart of light spiraled into the visage and came through on the other side, catching the golem in the chest and throwing him into the pews, which were crushed under the weight of his undead body.

  The vision slipped away, and Alma fell to her knees. She too was spent, yet the amethyst still pulsated.

  “Help the lass lie down and bring her some mull,” King Thorgar ordered. He brushed Alma’s bangs aside with tenderness and whispered for her to take it easy.

  “Did he get back up?” she murmured. “I have to finish the job, have to stop that thing from destroying the cathedral.”

  “You done good, lass,” Thorgar said. “Now rest up, we need your strength.” He stepped aside and let one of the warriors through, so he could bring an animal skin to her lips.

  The king’s words were kind and reassuring, though Logan could see how troubled he appeared as he walked away from the weary priestess. “What are our numbers?” he asked Broxlin.

  “We score forty-eight strong,” Broxlin said. “It’s a good thing we sent Gabbrixx to the west wing. Him and the boys were able to rescue the knights of plum and bring them back here.”

  “Hmm, though not all made it back, I see,” Thorgar brooded.

  “‘Tis true, my lord,” Gabbrixx spoke up. “Sam and Tomo fell to those creatures, though not before clearing the way for our escape. They died warrior’s deaths, and they’re no doubt headed to Valhalla as we speak.”

  Thorgar closed his eyes and bowed to their memory. Beyond the wall came a rumbling noise.

  “That’ll be Fodlor, returned from the downgates!” Broxlin said excitedly. “Open the way and help them in!”

  The nearest gnome unlatched the heavy stone door and three of them pulled it open. A chill air came through, sending a blanket of goosebumps over Logan’s skin. He shot a worried glance at his brother, who was rising and reaching for his voulge.

  “Get back!” Logan screamed too late.

  A long, talon-like leg as sharp and long as a spear tore right through the nearest gnome’s torso, hard enough to pop out through his spine. Bipp screamed as his worst nightmares suddenly came true and a bonestalker clambered into the room. More of the ghastly creatures could be heard coming down the hall, and Logan braced himself to fight.

  Chapter 17

  While many creatures were spurred by the Necromancer’s call—skeletons, ghasts, spectres, and the formidable flesh golem—the bonestalkers felt no such affinity. The otherworldly creatures had long ago lost their minds, back in the original fall of Ul’kor. The original bonestalkers were remnants of those unfortunate few humans stuck in between realms when the barriers went up, twisting and shattering their Acadian forms yet trapping their undying souls forever in those broken husks.

  Bonestalkers came in several varieties, each a different shape and size. Some with long gangly arms ending in claws, others with lower bodies that resembled the skeletal innards of giant insects, and yet others with curved spines with rows of sharp ridges jutting from between their vertebrae. All had mottled grey flesh, rotting and rank with a fetid odor that would cause anyone nearby to gag.

  The Necromancer’s call might not be enough to command their damned souls. But there was one thing that could make the usually secretive and stalking predators come out in force.

  Hunger.

  Their tunnels, normally barren of life, now vibrated with the many footsteps of unsuspecting gnomes. The bonestalkers relished the sounds of that same prey, locked in the rounded Elium, like a siren call to come and feast.

  Logan could remember the night one of them had come for Bipp. The sneaky bonestalker had waited in the shadows until everyone had fallen asleep, and then creeping like a spider in the night, slunk across the room to grasp the gnome’s ankles. When Logan had woken, it was to Bipp’s terrified screams, and the only thing that had saved them was an electric pulse from his mechanical hand. That was before Logan understood that each use of that formidable weapon took years from his life and drained his body of nutrients, which it converted to raw energy.

  As eight of the ravenous creatures rushed into the sanctuary, he weighed the worth of an extra year or two against the prospect of dying like the gnome being torn apart in the doorway.

  Within seconds the room was thrown into utter chaos as gnome warriors scrambled to brandish their weapons. For several of them it was not fast enough, as the bonestalkers rushed the room and fell upon them.

  Out of his companions, it was Nero who moved first, unfazed by the bloody spectacle. In one fluid movement, the android nocked an arrow and let it fly. The head of it lodged deeply in the side of one of the abominations. Logan caught his breath when the bonestalker snapped its gruesome head in their direction. It opened its malformed jaw and emitted a chittering sound before reeling back on six long, stilted legs and charging for them.

  Logan let Gandiva fly, missing the creature by a good foot as he recklessly dove to the floor to stay out of its path. The mystical boomerang bounced off the pulsating amethyst and spiraled in the wrong direction, skittering across the circular steps. Logan watched in horror as his weapon stopped just underfoot of another bonestalker that Broxlin and Thorgar were battling. His aim could not have been worse.

  Bipp cried out in pain.

  Logan scrambled to his feet and caught a glimpse of Corbin standing over Isaac’s unconscious body, fending off a bonestalker. Bipp was closer, single-handedly locked in a furious battle with the angered bonestalker that had just rushed past Logan.

  Pieces of the creature’s flesh fell off as it shifted back and forth, parrying Bipp’s small hammer with its more deadly talons. Logan looked back at Gandiva, which was a good distance away in the heart of the battle, and then back at his friend, trying to decide if he could reach his weapon in time to help Bipp. When one of the bonestalker’s talons scraped across Bipp’s forearm, the gnome surprised him. Instead of retreating, Bipp hollered and rained a flurry of blows on the fiend. Each hammer strike chipped flecks of bone and bits of rotted flesh from the bonestalker’s oddly jointed legs.

  If the horrible creature felt the furious barrage, it did not show it. As the bonestalker shifted to the side and raised an arm back, stretching talons ready to come down, Logan’s decision was made for him. Without thinking, he sprang to his feet and sprinted
toward the monster. He took five steps before leaping onto its back.

  The bonestalker immediately bucked and shook its shoulders, trying to knock him loose, but Logan grabbed onto its neck for dear life. When that did not work, the bonsestalker suddenly stopped. It chittered, twirling about, and ran backward full tilt toward the curved perimeter of the room.

  Logan clenched his mechanical fingers into a fist and pounded on its skull and shoulders. There was a loud popping noise, and he shifted to the side, readying for the bonestalker to fall over. In the span of time it took him to realize the bonestalker was in no way slowing, he was already smashed into the stone wall, pressed hard by the angered creature. By the fourth close encounter with the wall, he was ready to slip off in a daze.

  Again Bipp howled, throwing himself at the monster. Blow after blow rained down, faster than the ravenous underworld dweller could counter. Logan gritted his teeth and strengthened his hold around its neck. He got a solid grip on the bonestalker’s jaw, which moved up and down while it made clacking noises from its throat. Again he was slammed into the wall, but this time he turned enough to avoid the full blow.

  The bonestalker thrashed about blindly, unable to see its gnome attacker with its milky eyes forced up toward the ceiling. Logan narrowly avoided a groping talon and twisted the bonestalker’s head around, keeping it off balance.

  There was a loud splintering noise when Bipp’s hammer came across its front leg. The creature fell forward, buckling under the pain. Before it could regain an upright position, Logan threw all his weight behind him, wrenching its head back and exposing its throat.

  “Now, Bipp!”

  Taking his cue, Bipp jumped in the air, swinging his small hammer hard enough to make the god of thunder himself proud. It connected solidly, crushing the monster’s throat and knocking its head back hard enough to snap its neck. At once the vicious bonestalker, which for months had been the bane of Bipp’s nightmares, crumpled in a pile on the floor, dead.

  Logan’s face was pressed against the bonestalker’s mottled back, smothering him in the stench of moldy rags and fetid swamp water. He gagged while working his trapped arm free from underneath the horror. Bipp grabbed his free wrist and helped pry him loose, until the two of them came tumbling away. Logan readily accepted his friend’s help to his feet and scanned the room for his brother.

  Corbin was still standing guard over Isaac’s unconscious body, looking this way and that to be sure no bonestalkers approached. The bonestalker which had confronted him was nowhere to be seen. Thorgar and his men were having a rough time with the three remaining creatures.

  A howling came from the open doorway.

  “What now?” Logan grumbled, eyeing that black portal.

  “Let ‘em come,” Bipp growled. “I’m ready for it.”

  Logan eyed the dark tunnel with dread. But instead of another bonestalker, a raging gnome charged into the Elium, followed by at least twenty more of the proud warriors, all clad in moss-green armor.

  The newcomers fell on the trio of bonestalkers from behind, while Thorgar and Broxlin led the charge from the front. In moments they overwhelmed the rotting monsters, dropping them to the floor and swarming over them with smashing steel boots and hacking blades.

  When the last bonestalker shuddered its dying breath, King Thorgar raised his glass battle-axe to the ceiling and shouted triumphantly. The holy sanctuary was teeming with gnome warriors, all of whom joined in. After a couple more hearty bellows, the king turned his attention to the new arrivals.

  “Couldn’t ye take a bit longer, Fodlor?” Thorgar chuckled. They clasped forearms in the greeting of fighters. “Could’ve at least given us a few more minutes to kill them before ye decided to return, eh?”

  The way the gnomes laughed made Logan question whether they understood how much danger they had just been in.

  “And miss the look on that kisser when you watched me save your sorry arse?” Fodlor bellowed, raising another peel of laughter.

  “Geez, these guys really like their fights, huh?” Logan said.

  “Proudest warriors in history,” Bipp said.

  King Thorgar perked up, turning his focus squarely on Bipp. Logan did not miss how his friend suddenly squirmed uncomfortably under that sobering gaze. “Ah, but did any of you get a glimpse of our descendant over there?”

  There were several appreciative nods and grins. Logan suddenly felt uncomfortable under all those eyes.

  The warriors parted as King Thorgar strode over to Bipp. “Fought like a damned bear, ye did. I must say when I got a first look at ye and yer friends, I didn’t think much. But to see you fight with such bravery and ferocity, single-handedly taking down one of them…things, well, it almost brings a tear to my eye knowing yer what’s become of our people.”

  Broxlin slammed the pommel of his two-handed hammer on the stone floor. “Ohm be praised!”

  The room echoed with gnomes clapping their weapons to their chests in salute.

  “Hey,” Logan said, “he wasn’t alone, you know.”

  Thorgar eyed him and chuckled. “So he wasn’t. Logan Walker, you’re about the craziest darn human I ever done saw in a fight, throwing yourself on one of those wretched things like yer in a barroom brawl.” He beamed and clasped a hand on Logan’s forearm with a wink. Logan could not believe how strong the king’s grip was, and he tried hard to contain his wince.

  “My Lord,” one of the gnomes said, “forgive my interruption. Surely we fought strong and true, and it should be celebrated, but how did the Necromancer’s minions enter the Elium in the first place?”

  Thorgar stroked his beard and watched the open doorway with tired eyes. “True enough. This place is supposed to be impregnable by the unholy undead, as Ohm hisself blessed the amethyst aeons ago.”

  “Bonestalkers are not undead,” Isaac said in a soft, raspy voice, though his words seemed to amplify across the round chamber.

  A deeply interested Thorgar moved to the mage’s side, along with his gnomes and Logan’s companions. The room was all ears, each of them hanging on Isaac’s next words.

  “These creatures, despicable as they seem, are merely an imbalance in nature. The undead are trapped between life and death, forced to dwell in this plane by their master’s will. But a bonestalker…well, that’s entirely different. It is the result of an unimaginable demise by being torn between two worlds, dueling planes of existence, at the exact moment of death. What results from that ghastly happenstance is a husk, one that continues to live on far longer than is natural, with an unquenchable appetite for flesh. The pitiful bonestalker lives out its never-ending days mindlessly hunting for food among the unwary, praying on the weak, which then become part of the fold.”

  “Damned mage is giving me the chills,” Broxlin shuddered.

  “Almost makes me feel sorry for them,” Corbin said.

  “Aye, a right sentiment that,” Thorgar said.

  “King Thorgar,” Gabbrixx spoke up, breaking the silence, “as we left the western wing, we had several run-ins with the Necromancer’s legion. I fear the entire place is overrun with them by now.”

  “Same as the downgates,” Fodlor lamented.

  “Hmm, that confirms it,” Broxlin grumbled. “The Necromancer has definitely reclaimed the Shadow Stone.”

  “Yes, and that begs a dire question. What are we going to do to stop him?” Thorgar said.

  “Why, I believe I have just the plan we need to solve that conundrum for you, King Thorgar.”

  All eyes turned back to Isaac, as the mage sat up with a mischievous grin Logan knew only too well.

  Chapter 18

  “The Agimat?” Corbin echoed the king’s question.

  Isaac bowed his head. “Exactly.”

  “And what is this Agimat of which you speak, Oalthrinder?” Thorgar pressed.

  “A sacred artifact of the Agartan Empire. When it was in its heyday, before the fall of Acadia, it was so revered that only the Benefactor was allowed to be in its
holy presence. The Agimat is a set of bracers, once worn by Samuel himself during the Dreuli Rebellion, an event that would end with the gods themselves humbled by his righteousness. Of course, that could be more of the same propaganda that the empires of mankind liked to spew in those days, but it matters not. The Agimat was widely chronicled to have been used as a tool against the darkness, the implement through which the Benefactor was able to cleanse the souls of the corrupted, exorcising the demons from their spirit and flooding them with the Architect’s radiant light.”

  “With a weapon like that, we can excorcise the Necromancer and capture the Shadow Stone,” Nero reasoned.

  “Sounds like a fantasy if ever I heard one,” Broxlin snorted.

  “Oh, but it can’t be,” Isaac countered adamantly.

  “I don’t know,” Thorgar said. “It does sound far-fetched. Might be more sense in focusing on a workable plan of attack. Even if these Agimat exist, and they actually work as you’ve said, we’ve not enough time to march to Agarta and back.”

  “I’m afraid you are not fully informed of the situation on the surface, King Thorgar,” Nero said. “Agarta, and any other human empire that you may know of, fell to the Jotnar over two and a half centuries ago.”

  “You don’t say?” Thorgar’s eyes grew wide. He shared a look with Broxlin, frowning and deeply disturbed. “Then they never did get back up there in the end? Well, that doubles the conundrum. If we don’t have time to march to Agarta, we’d have even less to scour the land for some sign of an ancient relic….” His words trailed off in despair.

  “We don’t need to,” Isaac said with a twinkle in his eye.

  “Oh?”

  “No, Your Lordship.” Isaac grinned like a tomcat. “The Agimat came into my possession decades ago.”

  “Hot damn!” Thorgar bit his own fist in excitement. “Well, then, give it here. Don’t leave us in suspense, you old goat!”

  Isaac’s smile faltered.

  “You do have it on you, then? Don’t tell me you brought up a magical artifact that’s still up on the surface?”