An inexplicable, irresistible force called to Zach, commanding him and driving him onward toward a tower deep in the city. This force had been calling to him for days now and its pull became stronger by the minute. The force manifested itself in him sometime during their visit to Dockyard City. It began as a sensation of anticipation and excitement. It progressed to gnawing curiosity and suspense. Subconsciously, he knew that this same force was responsible for sending the pod of sea beasts after the ship and forcing the survivors to flee; it sensed him and it wanted him here. And now he couldn’t contain himself, he was positively giddy with anticipation of the wealth and power that he just knew was waiting for him here.
The marvelous city of Dalcasia passed by him in a blur, he could recall nothing of the journey that took him from the piers to the center of the city. Ordinarily he would have kicked himself for not committing the way to memory, but he was consumed by unnatural energy.
Finally, he reached center of Dalcasia and he beheld the magnificent square which he had just entered. This too, was lost on Zach as he cared only to meet his benefactor, the one who would lead him to the wealth and power he desired. The tower was a marvelous structure made of blood-tinged amethyst. The tower had the likeness of a dragon wrapped around it, spiraling its way to the top and finally resting its giant head on the pinnacle. The eyes of the dragon sparkled red in the light of the glowing poles; they seemed to be watching the man.
Zach approached the large platinum double doors, which were flanked by two statues of some long forgotten soldiers. The wealth of this city was not to be ignored and Zach imagined those who built it must have been powerful beyond reckoning. He paid no heed to the silent sentries as he bent down and removed some lock picking tools from a hidden pocket in his waist length coat. He inserted his first pick, designed to probe for traps and to determine if the door was even locked.
It was not.
Zach carefully pushed on the door. As it swung inward he paused letting his senses absorb the deathly silence. After a moment he took a step forward. It was then that the two statues came to life, dropping their large swords in front of him to bar his way.
Zach backpeddled, perplexed. Yet, somehow, one of the statue guards moved and was now standing behind him. It grabbed his arm and spoke to him in a strange and harsh language. Its grip was bone numbing and its crushing strength made his head spin.
“Hey, uh, I’m sorry! Let me go, I can explain,” at that moment the statue guard slapped Zach with a scepter; the blow knocked him to the ground, stunned. He lay there a moment, feeling the pain in his leg. Was it broken? Then he remembered the danger and tried to scramble to his feet. As it was, his attempt at a scramble turned into a slow stagger and he paid for it with a kick in the side from one of the guards that sent him down again. He forced himself up, fighting back the pain, as he prepared to face an awful fight with the strange statue guards. It was at that moment that a most amazing thing happened to him. Zach would later swear that this was a turning point in his life, helping him to find the path he was meant to follow. He felt a strange presence enter his body, uplifting his spirit and filling his soul with joy and ready energy. He suddenly felt rejuvenated, quick on his feet, and ready to fight. Spiritually Zach knew that he had found favor in the eyes of a god, probably ancient and long forgotten, and knew that he was being aided for a reason. Quickly drawing both of his swords he challenged the guards in front of him. He felt as though he could take on an army. The two guards advanced towards Zach, and he exploded into a blur of flashing steel. His reflexes were so fast that he was able to fight both guards simultaneously; hacking and slashing with a sword in each hand.
Zach struck the first guard in its now fleshy throat, killing it immediately. However when the guard died it returned to its previously petrified stone state, trapping his sword. He let go of the lost blade to concentrate on the second guard. This guard too, was no match for the fierce and deadly assault which Zach imparted upon him. Zach slashed this statute guard across its exposed midsection and quickly withdrew his blade, remembering the loss of his other weapon. This guard also returned to stone. He picked up one of the swords that had been dropped by a statute guard and wearily entered the tower. He felt a calling in his soul, like he was being tested and passing meant the promise of glory while failure meant rejection. He desperately wanted to pass this test.
The main chamber at the base of the tower was opulent; tapestries adorned the walls, fine carpets lined the floor, and suits of ancient armor stood silently, watching. Zach felt drawn to the ornately designed door at the end of the hallway. The designs were alien to Zach, but he felt tremendous reverence and respect for their importance nonetheless. He took a deep breath and grasped the metal ring that served as a handle for the door and stepped into the dimly lit chamber beyond; he was surprised to find that it was completely empty. There were no other doors, there was no staircase and there was no furniture. At that moment a circle appeared on the floor of the chamber, lined with glowing symbols.
For reasons he could not understand, Zach was compelled to step into that circle. As he did so, he felt a peculiar sensation as though the tower was ascending around him and yet he felt as though he were standing quite still. Suddenly the sensation ceased and he realized that he had rapidly descended several floors. Stepping out of the circle he faced another large door like the one above. He opened the door and was immediately knocked backward by an unseen force. Painfully, he leapt to his feet with both swords drawn but saw no attacker. His side began to throb and he felt the warmth of blood oozing out, too much blood.
“Where are you?” he demanded. “Come out and face me! I know you’re here,” he paused sensing something nearby but unable to put his finger on it.
Nothing but the echoes of his own voice answered him.
A faint glowing silhouette appeared before him and he was again knocked violently to the floor. Being the skilled fighter that he was, Zach knew that one must always learn from his enemy. And Zach just learned something vital to his survival, his adversary wasn’t able to maintain its invisibility while it attacked him. He leaped to his feet swinging his swords in a dizzying whirlwind of steel, moving in a circle about the room, hoping to force his invisible foe to show itself.
Out of the corner of his eye Zach spotted the faint outline of a glowing figure. Quickly he rounded on it and unleashed the fury of his attack. The harder he pressed his attacked the more visible his foe became. Soon he could see that he was facing what appeared to be an ancient warrior, garbed in a breastplate and a kilt of steel panels with a great helm topped by the horns of a massive bull. Zach parried a blow from the sword hand of his foe and followed through with his other sword, landing a blow to its throat.
The ghost vanished with a terrifying shriek that must have come from the Netherworld itself. Zach stepped back, swords out, breathing hard and expecting a new attack.
“You fight well with your new powers,” a voice filled the room, echoing eerily, and sounding quite pleased with itself.
“Where are you? Come out and face me!” he demanded, breathlessly, looking around.
“You are a skilled warrior, Zachyrya Von Reese. I mean you no harm,” the voice chuckled in a ghostly whisper. “I am your patron, Zachyrya my son.”
Zach looked intently about the chamber trying to find the source of that voice. It seemed to come from a chamber at the far end of the room. Warily he made his way into the chamber, noticing the floor was coated in a thick layer of dust; untouched by living beings for a very long time. Was there nothing alive, of flesh and blood, for him to face here?
Zach wasn’t afraid of the dead, rather he felt a deep anger toward them and those who employed the dead. Yet, he reasoned, it might be profitable to suppress such feelings for the moment. At the far end of the room he could see what appeared to be an altar draped with a crimson colored cloth, decorated with the badge of a white dagger surrounded by blue flame. On top of this altar was a dagger with a blade of shining
blue steel, and a sliver chalice. The blade gleamed in the dim light, holding his gaze.
Zach felt giddy, he knew his strength was failing him. The wounds he had sustained fighting earlier were now taking their toll.
“Ah, yes. You fancy my dagger. It is a fine weapon isn’t it? A fine weapon for a fine warrior, hmmm?” the voice chuckled, echoing eerily through the tower.
“Who are you?” Zach asked, wearily. He was getting weaker by the moment from loss of blood and his vision was now blurry; he wanted to face his foe before he became unable to fight. “Are you the god who has been calling me here?”
“A god?” the voice paused for a moment forcing Zach to wonder what exactly it was. “Oh, the irony. Once, I longed to hear my worshippers call to me, pray to me. Many long centuries endured, did I, to hear those words from my flock,” the voice chuckled.
“You see, now I can appreciate the irony. The days of being worshipped as a god are long behind me Zachyrya Von Reese. And, in fact, the centuries-long journey that brought me to my god-like powers was the curse of my existence! My followers lived and died, civilizations lived...and died. But I did not. Still here am I. No weaker, no stronger for the thousands who worshipped me. For the thousands who died for me.
“Prince Royel am I, of the Throne of Dalcasia, and it is my home you have found. My prison, as it were.”
An apparition appeared before Zach in the image of a decayed human dressed in the opulent garb of a prince. Although flesh seemed to being falling off in places, and white bone was evident in others, the apparition commanded respect and Zach felt compelled to kneel before him.
“But you seem so much more than a simple prince, your majesty. I apologize, I meant no disrespect,” he said. He was grateful for the opportunity to rest, even momentarily, in case he was forced to fight again.
“How very astute, you are. Although I have the command of your simple language, I shall endeavor to speak with your peculiar colloquial dialect. Is that better?”
The change in speech was lost on Zach, he was becoming weaker. He hadn’t really had any trouble understanding the creature anyway.
“Once, I aspired to be much, much, more. I have opened a rift in the fabric of creation allowing the denizens of the underworld to enter here and exploit the inherent wealth. Treasure, worshippers, wealth; all mean nothing to me anymore. But power, power is everything!”
“I intend to cross that rift into the underworld where I will take my place among the powerful Lords of the Shadows!” the spectre laughed with pleasure at the thought of his long sought greatness. Then it became wistful and angry. “Alas, I cannot. I have tried! Tried for centuries to break this curse! The curse that I now know I have brought upon myself for daring to become a god.
“You came here to my home seeking treasure, and treasure I will give you. You have certainly proven your mettle. There is a price, though,” the apparition seemed appeased by Zach’s display of humility. The Cklathman’s strength had given out and he was now on his knees before the creature. He did notice that small pieces of rotten flesh were falling off the bony spectre as it moved around the room before him.
“You may rise, young man. Long ago, I ruled this city. Even before the Council of Kings crowned my surface cousin King Harfour I, Emperor of the North, I ruled these lands. When Dalcasia was but a gleam in the eyes of the King Ellure, the first Great Overlord of Uta Milla, I ruled Dalcasia.
“I was greedy. I was jealous of the grand titles that others possessed, and I was determined to become as powerful as kings and emperors. However, I had taken up the study of the arcane arts. I had learned and accomplished many things my pragmatic cousins could never do with their mighty armies.”
The apparition appeared very real to Zach now, but he could not tell if the image was an illusion or reality. He thought it wise to humbly listen to what the ghost had to say, as he greedily eyed the shining dagger.
“While my cousin was off fighting wars I was raising the dead from the grave, and commanding the souls of the damned to do my bidding. I became so obsessed with my cousin’s successes that I ignored the rising threat from Uta Milla, the growing power in the Underllars. It proved to be my own undoing. I blamed them for my own faults and, ultimately, I created that dagger. I bound the metal to the soul of the dead assassin, Ak Rypoor, so that the bearer of this dagger would never fail. Yet, fail it did. Not due to any flaw of workmanship, or flaw of my powers. Rather it failed because I failed to notice the time pass. The one whom I was so eager to see dead, died of old age.
“These many, many, centuries I’ve wondered what would free me from this cursed existence of mine. And I’ve come to understand the answer to that question. This very dagger will free me and you will help me. This dagger is so powerful that only the most sound of mind and body may wield it, else the blade may turn on the wielder. It is a hungry beast, and it loves to kill. It can and will kill anyone the bearer targets, and the souls of the dead feed the strength of the spirit of Ak Rypoor.
“When Uta Milla annexed my principality and my lands, my followers and heirs begged me to take action, but I was indifferent. There was so much to be done! I abdicated my throne and my followers attempted to resist the Uta Millans, but they failed. I was quite a powerful wizard, even then, and my help may have saved my lands from the brutal early Uta Millans. But I had become so intent upon gaining power and godhood I didn’t care what was happening around me, I knew I could protect myself. Indeed, even the Uta Millans feared me so much they never tried to take my tower, declaring it sovereign territory within their empire. Ha! It was my own prison and the bastards knew it!
“I pursued my ends with more vigor. I thought that I could attain my goal through my magic and abandoned the pursuit of all else. I demanded my guardsmen to secretly round up undesirables from the city. After taking their lives with this dagger I raised them from the dead to do my bidding. It was not long before some people began to worship me as a god; oh, the feats I could perform. If my cousin could have seen me!
“I had devoted so much energy in my ambition for power that time had no meaning for me. I saw the sons of my foes, and their sons’ sons, grow old and die as well. I attained the godlike power I wanted, but what a heavy price! I have been damned to eternal life here in this very building; never to leave again, forced to watch my people become enslaved by the mighty Uta Milla. Then, when Uta Milla mined all the precious silveryl they could find, they left and the oroks came. Vicious, nasty, little oroks.”
The dead prince stopped talking for a long moment and Zach was not sure why it was even telling him all this, but he was too weak and too scared to ask. The eyes of the long dead prince were alight with fire, burning with hatred and venom.
“I am not a god, as I had thought so long ago. I have communed with the Mighty One, Umber, and I have learned what it will take to free my soul from this prison. You must take my dagger with you, and use it for its intended purpose: to kill one who is of my blood. Only when this is done will the Lich Curse which binds me to this spot be lifted, and I can take my place in the underworld on Umber’s Council of Darklords.”
“Why do you choose me, your majesty?” Zach made sure to take a very respectful tone, despite rapidly losing his senses.
“I have been scouring the surface world, and other places, over the centuries for someone to help me break this curse. You are the first human I have found with the skill to wield this weapon since I discovered the secret to my salvation!” The spectre watched him eagerly. “I knew it the moment you decided to embark on that ship, the Marineer! You have the skill and the spirit required, else you would never have made it here.
“As one of my agents I shall reward you generously and you shall be in the favor of the Mighty Umber. Should you complete your task you may return here unhindered, and claim all the treasure in my vaults, all the precious bricks of this tower or this entire city; I care naught for any of it. If you do not complete your task within one year’s time, the blade will turn on
you. It will drain your life force as it does its victims, and it will teleport itself back to me. I have nothing but time, you see? There will be another like you sooner or later.”
Dark flames in the creature’s eye sockets bored into Zach’s soul. He saw that there was little choice, yet he desired nothing less; it was what he had been seeking within the Spiders. With this weapon he could take over the Spiders from Eriagabbyn. He could take over all the Guilds of Dockyard City, or anywhere else. He could become powerful and wealthy beyond his wildest dreams! The temptation was worth the risk, he decided. And the favor of a god who was known to lavish wealth and power on his faithful; let Carym have his precious Zuhr!
“I accept your offer, your majesty,” he said weakly. Then, as the words of that sentence stopped, he felt his strength returning! He felt just a little bit stronger. He could see clearly and the pain in his side was fading to a dull throb. Now that his mind was not distracted by so much pain and fatigue, he questioned the lich further.
“Who, exactly was your cousin? Will not the strength of his bloodline be too polluted to save you so many centuries later?”
“I like your mind, Zach. You are intelligent and insightful. Yes, it will be difficult to locate one of that bloodline and it may be that the victim’s blood is not strong enough to break the curse. Yet, somehow I think this will not be the case. However, we will only know for sure when the moment comes. You will know you have been successful for the blade will tell you and my treasures will be yours!”
Zach nodded and bowed from the waist.
The Dragon Writers Collection Page 39