Chapter 39
Kiliam
One of Locmire's first assignments as a young Wizard was to investigate a small village located not too far east of Fogarth. A Looker had revealed a prophecy concerning an evil force in the village of Kiliam. They had kept careful watch on the village, but for the longest time they had no reason to intervene. The only reason the Wizards deemed it necessary to become involved in this particular matter was because a fellow Wizard had went missing in Kiliam as he passed through the village on a return trip home. Locmire and two other Wizards, Dalit and Harsmon, set out to investigate the whereabouts of their missing friend.
Upon entering Kiliam, they were struck by how much the once bustling village now resembled a cemetery. The only visible signs of life came from the town hall, where every light was lit. The three Wizards cautiously made their way to the town hall, not knowing what to expect.
“Be ready for anything. We know not what waits behind these doors,” said Locmire.
“If whatever we find is evil, it will wish it had stayed in whatever dark place it came from,” Dalit said.
“I hope this as simple as you seem to think it will be, Dalit. I, myself, believe that we are up for a tremendous testing of our skills. There would be no need to send three Wizards if it were to be a simple matter,” Harsmon replied.
"Did anyone tell you what to expect here?" Dalit asked.
“Enough!” Locmire said. “Let's go.”
Even though Dalit and Harsmon were one hundred years the elder of Locmire, they quickly became silent. One look into Locmire's icy, baby blue eyes let them know that this was a serious matter. Locmire slowly pushed open the town hall's doors, and his stomach quickly turned inside out. Before him, the entire town of Kiliam lay slaughtered on the floor. It was the most horrific scene any of the Wizards had ever laid eyes upon. Men, women and children lay lifeless in pools of blood. Body parts were strewn across the room. In the center of the room was a wooden rectangular dining table that was set for a feast. Every place was set, and the plates were piled high with various assortments of body parts. At the head of the table sat a skeleton dressed in ragged clothing.
“By the crystals! What is it?” Dalit asked.
“A Lich,” Harsmon replied.
“What is it doing here?” asked Dalit.
“Unfinished business I assume,” Locmire replied.
At the sound of their voice, the Lich turned his head in their direction. Although no tissue remained on the Lich’s body, it was somehow able to give them a toothy grin. The Lich stood up and before anyone could act, he pulled his staff from beside him and waved it across the room. Immediately the bodies of the lifeless villagers reanimated and rose to their feet. The Lich pointed his staff at the three Wizards, and the corpses attacked.
The dead villagers ran, crawled, and scooted their way toward Locmire and his companions. The three Wizards made quick work of the living-dead foes. Fireballs, ice blasts, and a lightning-like whip violently tore through the room. After only a few seconds, all that remained standing was the Wizards and the Lich.
“Why do you come here, Wizards? Have I crossed you in some way?” asked the Lich.
“You have crossed us by your very existence. What you have done is unnatural. We cannot allow such magic to be performed,” Locmire replied.
“And what gives you the right to decide what type of magic one should be allowed to perform?” the Lich asked.
“What gives you the right to try and defy death? Much less return from the grave and slaughter innocents?” Harsmon asked.
“I never went to the grave. When my mortal body was struck down by these savages, my mind remained. When the time was right, I reunited my mind with my body, thus achieving immortality. What is so wrong with that?” asked the Lich.
“Time for talk is over. Prepare yourself, demon,” Dalit roared.
“If you think that I will surrender to you, you are sadly mistaken. I have overcome death, and I refuse to face that fate again,” said the Lich as he pointed his staff.
A yellow ball of lightning struck Dalit in the face. The blast sent him sprawling backwards, and he collapsed to the floor. Smoke rolled from his body.
Harsmon and Locmire began their counter assault, striking the Lich with every spell at their disposal. Offensive spells had no serious impact on the skeletal abomination. Binding spells, only momentarily, stopped it. Even spells meant to prevent one from using magic could not stop the Lich from using his magical abilities. They had been dueling for over five minutes, and the Wizards were becoming tired. They were casting their most powerful spells back to back. Their magic reserves were starting to dwindle. The Lich, on the other hand, did not seem to be phased.
“Should we retreat?” Harsmon shouted as he dodged an incoming lightning ball.
Locmire sent a large fireball in the Lich's direction and replied, “Our efforts are useless. We are outmatched. Retreat!”
The Wizards turned to run from the town hall. Locmire had made it out of the door. Harsmon was right beside him, when suddenly, he was pulled back. Locmire turned to see a large hand wrapped around Harsmon's body.
“Run!” Harsmon screamed. “Run!”
Locmire stood frozen as the large hand squeezed the life from Harsmon. He popped like a strawberry. The hand disappeared and what was left of Harsmon fell to the floor. Locmire did not hesitate. He turned and ran as far as he could from the town of Kiliam until he made it back safely to Fogarth.
The Master Wizards educated Locmire about the Lich, telling him everything he needed to know to be successful during their next encounter. It was now evident as to why they were unable to destroy the Lich. They had not known the whereabouts of his phylactery. Without the destruction of the phylactery, the Lich could not be destroyed.
Locmire spent the next ten years tracking the Lich's every movement. He eventually learned the identity of the Lich, a rogue Wizard by the name of Zusal Nok.
Zusal Nok abandoned his lifetime home of Fogarth so he could begin the practice of necromancy and conjuring. The Wizards of Fogarth did not allow such dark magic to be practiced within the confines of the desert, or anywhere for that matter. Fearing that he may be caught practicing his dark magic, Zusal snuck away from Fogarth in the middle of the night. The Wizards searched for him many moons, but cunning as he was, he evaded them at every turn. Finally, the Wizards retreated back to Fogarth, knowing that he would eventually resurface.
Zusal made a grievous mistake when he waltzed into the town of Kiliam. Kiliam was home to many great warriors and a wise old mage. When Zusal's dark past became known, the residents of Kiliam took him in his sleep and beheaded him. A witness told Locmire that Zusal's detached head cursed the village of Kiliam and promised to return and kill every last person in the village. Locmire was able to gather enough information about Zusal to finally, after great effort, locate his phylactery.
Twelve years after their first encounter, Locmire located Zusal in a small village near Morgorath. He confronted the Lich and destroyed his phylactery, in this case a golden ring, right before his eyes. A lengthy battle ensued. When the flashes of light ended, and the smoke cleared, Locmire stood victorious.
Locmire's Quest: Book One A Tales from Calencia Novel Page 58