"Come on, lover boy," said Ravenscort, as he and Roger arrived at the top of the stairs.
The three entered their rooms and prepared for sleep. Peter sat for a while on his own in his room. Things were happening around him that he could not control. As he sat there, he became aware of a growing wind and the first patter of rain on the window panes. By the sound of it, he wouldn't be surprised if there was a storm front coming in. What should he do? What could he do? With these thoughts in his mind he drifted off to sleep.
****
The bird sat with unblinking eyes, watching through the window. It had patience and intent. It had now seen all that it needed to. It had found them, and Gorn would be pleased. It spread its wings, turned and leapt from the stone windowsill. With great beats of its white wings, it flew from the castle, through what was to become a very stormy night. Slowly it made its way back to its master.
****
"Will you stop it, Max! I've told you many times that I won't do that until we're married."
"But Julie, we are engaged and the wedding is in ten weeks!"
"Then it's not too long for you to wait. I don't mind a kiss and a cuddle as you well know. It really isn't too long to wait. I do love you."
"Okay! I know! I know! Come here, gorgeous."
There wasn't a lot of space in the car. It was Max's work car. Being a rep for a photocopy firm did have its advantages and it did feel good to be able to pick Julie up in a new car. The neighbours were impressed and everyone said they made a lovely couple. It was developing into a real storm outside, but he didn't mind. It was snug in the car and the windows were steamy, as was his mood. Julie wasn't like other girls. She was special and he felt lucky that she wanted to marry him. There was a sudden flash of lightning and he could see the church and churchyard silhouetted in the glare. There were real advantages to this lane. No one would ever come down here at night and so they had the place to themselves.
"Do you really love me, Julie?"
"You know I do. Come here, silly." She embraced him passionately. "I think we'd better be getting home now. It's late and we both have work tomorrow."
"Okay."
They both climbed out of the rear seats and were going to get back into the front. They shivered and huddled in their coats as the temperature outside had certainly dropped. Just as Max turned to shut the rear door he saw something.
"What's that?"
Wolves, like a great black flood charged down the lane towards them. Both of them just froze.
"Quick! Get in the car!" he yelled.
The pair scrambled and there was a mad panic as Max tried to get the key in the lock.
"Lock your door!" he yelled and the tidal wave of heaving bodies overwhelmed the car. The ignition turned and Max thought they would be safe, but this was only for the shortest of moments. The key turned, but the engine failed to fire. Julie started to scream as the hungry, rabid faces of the wolves pressed against the windows. There was no way out!
Max just sat there. Cold trickled down his spine. His limbs went weak and he found he could not move, even if he wanted to. Julie just kept on screaming.
The scrabbling around the car stopped. The wolves parted and a figure approached. Covered in a cloak, from head to foot, he reached the passenger door. The storm raged around him and lightning struck a tall tree not far away. In the light Julie caught a brief sight of his face and the crashing sound drowned her scream as she saw Death. Death had come for her.
He opened the door. The lock proved no obstacle. He took her hand in a grip that allowed no refusal. Together they walked slowly towards the church and the graveyard. As if in a trance, she just followed.
"I never thought I would find one so easily nowadays. I suppose fate just smiles on the wicked."
He turned back to look at the car and the young man inside, surrounded by wolves. Julie did not turn, which was probably a blessing. The only one for her this night. The cowled man just clicked his fingers and the wolves sprang into action. The man was dragged from the car and his screams did not last long. No one would hear him on a night like this. It was mercifully short, but the cowled man did not care. He had what he wanted and she would serve his purpose. He continued up the narrow path to the churchyard. His mind was on what he had to do to raise his army. Her blood and beauty was enough to raise a smile to old bones and these were very old bones he was to raise. He had much to accomplish this night and the storm raged on!
Chapter 13 - The Necromancer
No one understood how hard it was to be a necromancer. Working on a night like this, outdoors, was not easy. Cold, wet, alone apart from his beasts. He never felt that he got the recognition he deserved. He often felt tired of the life and wondered if things could have been different. Sibling rivalry had much to do with it. Being the younger of the two meant he had been at a disadvantage.
His older brother had got to work on Gorn from the moment he could remember. Painful reminders, that he was the younger and weaker of the two, were administered daily. They became more extreme as he got older. Broken nose, broken arm and then more subtle hurts. Competition between the two was fierce. They were encouraged to compete in every way and any sign of weakness was an invitation. No happy families, no comfort; only win or lose. His parents would administer severe punishments themselves if he sought their aid and so he learnt to hide everything from others.
There was a time when he enjoyed the company of another. He had befriended a small bird that came into the garden. He started to feed it and he began to look for it every day with a sense of anticipation. This had gone on for weeks and he made sure his brother was nowhere in sight when he fed it. The little creature grew in confidence and would feed from his hand. It had bright little eyes and danced and hopped around him. He had felt great pleasure at its company and his heart sang in a way he had never experienced. It was his time. He began to love that little life, so innocent and joyous.
One day he went in search of his friend and discovered his brother with a look of satisfaction on his face. At his feet was his bird. It was still, lifeless, inert. In that moment, he realised his hatred for his brother. The smirk on his older, and much bigger, brother's face, removed any residual feelings or affinity towards his family. He flew at his tormentor and would have killed him there and then, if he could. His sibling just laughed at him, holding his little brother's head away at arm's length, whilst Gorn struggled, unable to reach him. Tears ran down his face and he wore himself out. Eventually his anger subsided, but not his hatred. He watched his brother as he walked away laughing.
He picked up his friend and held its still warm body in his hand. It was dead and there was nothing he could do about it. Was that the truth? He felt so helpless, so powerless and he did not enjoy the feeling. He buried the little bird in the garden and vowed that he would seek the knowledge to overcome death. Never again would he allow death to be his master and never again would he let his brother beat him at anything. He also understood that it was his parents that permitted and encouraged this behaviour by his brother and he vowed to have revenge against them all.
This was the last time he ever cried. The last time he was ever to feel helpless. From that moment he took control. Years were spent in the study of the dark arts. He would sit long into the night, reading ancient tomes, following directions and spells to gain the powers he sought. Failure after failure did not deter him from his single purpose. He read the works of fools, charlatans, but in some he found an inkling of the truth. There were tales of mages who had overcome the finality of death, but little evidence to support this.
He wandered the lands seeking ancient sites, texts and legends. It was during this time that he learned of the shape shifters. These were creatures who, it was reported, could change from men to beasts and back again. It was clear that this was a power that he could obtain and that he could use.
On his own, in his room, far below the living quarters of the family castle, he worked on perfecting this skill.
At first his failures were common and the results could be hideously messy, but over time he began to see some signs of success. The simple creatures he used, mice, could be given the ability to change, but the resulting beasts were hideously deformed. Over time he became more adept and the results more successful. He still worked with small animals, but he could enable a mouse to change to a rabbit and back again. He didn't allow his results to live for long, as he had no use for them. His ambition was to allow men to change and this would take more knowledge and experimentation. He was still only a young man, just out of childhood, but he was developing powers that made others wary, even his own family.
He had less and less to do with anyone else. He studied, travelled and experimented on his own.
It was on one his journeys that he met an old hermit who lived in the ruins of an ancient city, deep within the jungle. The hermit was mad. Any grasp of sanity had long left him. His ravings were meaningless mumblings, but they could be interspersed with lucid moments. During one of these moments he spoke of necromancy. It was only fleeting, but the words caught Gorn's attention. Weeks, months, he lived with the hermit, waiting to hear more. Bit by bit, he began to piece together the tale of the hermit as a young man. He had experimented with recently deceased members of the local villages. During the nights he had robbed the graves and brought the corpses back to his lair and there he had attempted to bring them back from the dead.
Years he spent and few were his successes, but on one occasion a child who had just died had returned briefly, opened its eyes and screamed before passing into the afterlife again. He listened to the hermit's ramblings, but on another occasion he recounted the success of a baby who had died, being brought back and living for a month. The child was back in body only. There was no sign of awareness, but again, this was progress.
Months after starting to live with the hermit, he heard what he was waiting for. The hermit was successful. He had managed to bring another child back and this time he was cognisant. This was success. He had overcome the final boundary, but his victory cost him his sanity.
Try as he might he could glean little more from the hermit and that would have been the end of it, if not for a fortuitous discovery. The hermit was failing at this point and it was clear his time was limited.
One morning, on rousing, Gorn found the hermit had died, taking his secrets with him. Gorn searched the dwelling seeking for any clues as to the rituals required. He found nothing and, in frustration, he began to smash the items the hermit had gathered around him. Pots, artefacts, herbs and arcane crafts he destroyed. His anger was great and he felt that death had cheated him again, when he threw a statue of a cat across the room and it smashed on the wall. Out of the shattered shards fell a parchment rolled and bound. Eagerly, he opened it and read the ritual for the opening of the Doors of Death.
Reading carefully he memorised the procedures, the incantations, the wards and warnings. Feeling empowered, he turned to the body of the hermit. It only seemed fitting to try.
It took most of the night. The concentration and strain were overbearing and when the final part of the process was accomplished, he stood back and stared at the hermit's chest for signs of life. The body was still. His pallor was waxen and his eyes blank. Gorn was furious. He felt cheated. In anger, he struck the hermit's lifeless body and sank down on the hard stone floor. There was a sudden gasp and the body moved. The chest began to rise and there was a flicker across the eyes. The hermit began to breathe. At first it was ragged, but then a rhythm set in.
Success! He was back! The hermit had been dead for almost twenty-four hours and now he was breathing. He had to see if the man's mind was back. This would be difficult to gauge as he had lost most of it before he died.
"Water!"
It spoke. It was back. He couldn't think of the hermit as a man anymore. It was his. He had brought it back. Quickly, he sought water and he fed the hermit a little to quench his thirst. He knew not to give too much.
After a while, the hermit was able to talk. He realised that the mind was as confused as before, but he knew he had the power. He had sought that which had cost the hermit his mind, but he had gained the power and his mind was still whole.
Two days later he decided to depart. He couldn't afford to leave the hermit alive to possibly provide the knowledge to another. So, as he had given life, he took it way and left the body once more alone on the stone floor. This time there would be no more coming back.
Success gave him new insight. His experiments continued and he robbed local graves to further his skills over the dead. Over time it became easier and his success rate became almost without doubt. His skills with the shape changers also developed and now he started to work on the human form.
He experimented with the children he returned to life and, bit by bit, he began to have success. He had managed to develop control over the returned souls. They were his. Their freewill was no longer their own. They were his servants and he used them. His ultimate success was enabling a child to change to a wolf. For some reason, he was more successful with this transformation than any other. In time he succeeded with adults and secretly built up a small force that was completely under his control.
These were savage creatures, both in human and wolf form. These once men were completely his to control. There was a mental link that he did not understand, but they would act on his thoughts alone.
His first test of their powers was to exact his revenge against his family. Trembling with anticipation and desire, he sent the creatures upstairs. His family would never again hurt him. The pack flew up the steps, yelping and growling with blood lust. Shrieks, screams filled the house and then almost calm returned. Only the scrabbling of claws on stone, the snapping of bone and the gorging of beasts could be heard.
A smile crossed Gorn's face, but this turned to anger, as he inspected the scene in the upper rooms. His parents were clearly dead, but his brother's remains were not to be found. Somehow, through either fate, luck or design, he must have left the house earlier.
Once he realised this, he quickly he sent his creatures in pursuit of his sibling. The beasts ran off into the night, the passion of the hunt consuming them, but hours later they skulked back dejected, clearly unable to locate him. Gorn was inconsolable. He ranted and fumed for days. Trashing his brother's belongings and rooms in a frenzy.
Eventually he regained control of himself and set about making plans. He went out into his garden and found the place where he had buried his beautiful, delicate friend, the bird. Using all his skill he captured the essence of the bird and combined this with his power to change shapes and forms. The spot where the bird lay began to grow. The surface began to shiver and move and a bright light suddenly burst out and from the depths emerged an owl. White in its purest form, the bird was tall, fully grown. It bore little resemblance from its original form, but it retained its love and loyalty to the necromancer. It spread its wings and shook off any remaining earth. Leaping into the air, it beat its powerful wings, circled the garden and landed on its master's shoulder. He patted its head and stroked its back.
"Welcome back, my friend. My only friend. Welcome home, Selena!"
Of course there was one additional element that provided him with the power to successfully use the dark arts, but it was something he was eager to overlook. When the statue shattered, there was more inside than the parchment. Out of the cat statue, fell a purple black stone with a mirror-like surface. The stone was multi-faceted and extremely heavy. As he picked it up, he became aware of a surge of great power. Whilst the stone was in his possession its power throbbed through him, but it also possessed him.
He had tried to work without the stone, but somehow he could not quite get the control he needed. Without it he found he longed for it. He felt drawn and there was a need to have it, to hold it. The stone frightened him. The balance between them was one-sided, and not in his favour. In time, he found he could not bear to be without it. He gave up part of himself to use t
he stone and that part was the little humanity left inside him. The hermit had given up his sanity, but he had given more and a part of him was terrified at the price.
Somehow he had managed to hide this from himself. He was vain enough to believe that his powers were his by merit. His own talents had made him the most powerful necromancer any of the seven worlds had ever know.
He did start to investigate the stone, and again this quest was long and difficult. He had to search the ancient tomes that covered the history and mythology of the seven worlds. Eventually, he read stories about the creation and the way that each of the worlds had separate, distinct qualities. The attributes for the worlds were set by seven stones. The stones were part of the Moondial, that invoked the laws that governed the worlds. Together the stones had a synergy of unlimited power, but on their own, though powerful, they were but shadows. The Moondial brought harmony and kept the worlds apart, distinct and unique, but Fell Craven had caused the stones to be scattered and the Moondial no longer upheld the laws. He recognised his stone, Galena. The dark stone held dark powers and he had used them to break the law of life and death.
With the knowledge of the other stones, his lust for power grew. He needed to possess them all. He was driven, as if Galena had a desire to be returned to the six other stones. He knew that Fell Craven was on a similar mission and he assumed he possessed one of the other remaining stones. However, they had both discovered that the Moonstone was held by a boy and both sought the boy and the stone. Gorn smiled to himself when he remembered how he had managed to spirit the boy and stone away from Craven, and send him to his home world. The meeting in the Gill had not gone as he planned, but the outcome was brilliant. The boy and stone were safe from Craven, but not from him. Yes, things had not quite gone as he had hoped, but Selena had found them and he had his forces ready to take back what should be his. The Moonstone would become his before dawn! It really would be a dark and stormy night!
The Moonchild (The Moondial Book 1) Page 13