The Imperium Chronicles Collection, 2nd Edition - Stories

by W. H. Mitchell

  “What is that thing?” Mel asked.

  “A ghul,” Sisa replied, buried in her mother’s arms.

  “Foul monsters,” Sir Golan muttered.

  Watching Silandra and her daughter together, Squire regretted his lack of emotional depth. He wondered if Mel could give him an upgrade at some point.

  From the darkness, farther down the bridge, sounds started coming closer.

  “We should go,” Mel said, turning back the way they had come.

  “You go,” Sir Golan relied. “I’ll hold them off while you make your escape.”

  “Should I stay too?” Squire asked.

  “No need,” the knight said. “Now get going!”

  Reluctantly, Squire obeyed his master and followed Mel and the two Sylvans. Before they reached the end of the bridge, Mel stopped abruptly.

  “What is it?” the robot asked.

  “Look!” Mel replied.

  The hulking shape of a man blocked their way. Eight feet tall, the creature was covered in patches of skin, each different but all sewn together in a jigsaw puzzle of flesh. On each patch, an archaic letter was tattooed and glowed with a bluish hue.

  “It’s a golem,” Silandra said, “held together with dark psi.”

  “Dark psionics?” Mel asked. “I knew someone who used that...”

  “It’s an abomination,” Silandra replied.

  “He wasn’t so bad...”

  The flesh golem planted one of his heavy feet on the bridge. Squire felt the planks shake.

  “Without Sir Golan,” the robot said, “I don’t know how to stop this monster.”

  “The power comes from the ancient writing on his skin,” Silandra said. “We must destroy that to destroy the golem.”

  The creature’s other foot came down hard on the bridge. His eyes were nothing but specks of black like shards of coal.

  “Mel,” Squire said, “you didn’t happen to upgrade me with a flamethrower by chance?”

  “There wasn’t enough time,” Mel replied.

  “That’s a pity.”

  “Wait,” Mel said, reaching into her bag. “This’ll do the trick.”

  She pulled out a metallic cylinder and, removing a round pin on the top, tossed it at the golem’s feet.

  “Stop!” Silandra shouted as the device exploded, engulfing the creature in a fireball.

  Covered in sticky, burning napalm, the golem waved his arms and stomped his feet. The bridge swayed and buckled beneath the shifting weight.

  “Uh oh,” Mel whispered.

  Flames climbed up the golem’s body, consuming patches of flesh as they rose. The strange, mystical lettering turned from blue to orange, and then to nothing as the skin burned to ash.

  “Run!” Silandra screamed, grabbing her daughter as they stumbled back down the bridge.

  The golem’s massive shape, now nearly completely black, teetered like a thick tree about to fall, and then it did. With a deafening sound as loud as the rushing waters below, the creature landed face first, snapping the wood planks like kindling. The supports under the bridge splintered, sending the whole structure sideways.

  Squire felt himself floating in midair, the cavern swirling around him until air became liquid and he was submerged.

  When Mel woke, the first thing she noticed was the water pouring out her mouth as she lay on her side. The second thing, as her lungs emptied, was a bluish tinge coloring her hands and the mud around her. She thought in horror that the flesh golem had returned, but rolling over and looking up, she saw only Squire standing beside her and the dome of his displacement field protecting them both.

  “Where are we?” she asked, coughing out the last drops of water.

  “I’m not exactly sure,” Squire replied, “but I should think we’re somewhere under the bridge.”

  Mel sat up. The ground was spongy and covered in shallow puddles. Although her satchel was missing, she still held the flashlight firmly in her tiny hands. She shined the beam on the wall of the displacement field, but saw only darkness beyond it.

  “Are we underwater?” she asked.

  “Ah, yes,” the robot said. “Did I not mention that?”

  “No!”

  “We fell into the water after the bridge collapsed,” Squire explained. “I switched on the displacement field, letting the liquid run out through the one-way membrane.”

  “Huh,” Mel said. “That was genius!”

  “Oh, thank you so much,” the robot said as if embarrassed by the compliment.

  “What about Silandra and Sisa?”

  “I’m afraid you were the only one near me. I don’t know where the others are at the moment.”

  Mel got to her feet.

  “The air in here won’t last long,” she said. “We should find the shore.”

  “Technically speaking,” the robot replied, “You’ll suffocate from carbon monoxide poisoning before the oxygen is depleted...”

  “Whatever! Let’s go.”

  Mel and Squire started walking, the dome moving along with the robot. Mel nearly tripped over the bones of a ribcage sticking out of the river bottom. She wasn’t exactly sure if this was a river at all, but she could vaguely see water running across the surface of the displacement field. Whatever was covering the dome, it seemed to have a fast current. In time, the ground started slanting upward which she took as a good sign. When the top of the dome broke the surface of the water, Mel was no longer sure.

  The halo of torchlights shined on the other side of the field. Shapes moved back and forth. Many shapes.

  No longer underwater, Squire switched off the dome. Mel, her pink hair dangling damply around her shoulders, looked with wild eyes at the people she saw. Although they appeared similar to the ghuls, with skin discolored and even absent in some places, they wore armor fashioned from bones and carried swords that were hooked like the blades of a scythe. One of them wore brown vestments like a priest and held a curved staff with a skull on the end. Beside him, next to an altar-like stone table, Silandra was visible. Only then did Mel noticed someone else, a girl lying on the table.

  She wasn’t moving.

  Death is not the end. For those with the power and knowledge, death is only the beginning of everlasting life. No one knew this better than Grand Necromancer Ghazul. His people, the Necronea, were the embodiment of reanimation. As the Spring knows the Winter, they knew death as only the dark before the light.

  Ghazul watched the Sylvan woman emerge from the subterranean river, both her and the daughter in her arms soaked to the bone. He reached into her mind and learned the woman’s name, Silandra, and felt the deep sorrow flowing from her heart. She did not understand what Ghazul already knew and he pitied her for that. She saw only death in her daughter’s face where the Grand Necromancer saw hope.

  Surrounded by the Necronea, she also felt fear, but Ghazul assured Silandra there was no danger, directing her to lay Sisa’s body onto the stone table. After doing so, she turned to him.

  “Why did you steal my daughter?” she asked aloud. “What possible good could come from this?”

  Although the blazing eyes in his head could convey no emotion, Ghazul sympathized with the mother’s anger, knowing that she was ignorant of the great honor for which her daughter was intended. He did his best to explain.

  “I know this must be strange,” Ghazul said. “For you, life is a precious, finite thing, with a beginning and an end. Or perhaps you believe there’s life after death, a place from which we cannot return.”

  “Yes,” Silandra replied, slowly nodding.

  “My people believe something quite different,” the necromancer continued. “From the teachings of the Old Gods, we learned that we can, indeed, return. That death is merely a state of matter that, like ice to water, can change if need be.”

  “Who are the Old Gods?”

  “They were the first to exist since existence began, even before the stars started burning. They lived in the infinite blackness were light was still just a
dream.”

  “Get to the point!” Silandra shouted. “I don’t care about your religion!”

  “You must understand,” Ghazul replied calmly, “for everything there is a price. To keep the Old Gods sated, we must offer a sacrifice of purity. Your daughter Sisa was to be that sacrifice.”

  “She’s dead!”

  “It’s true that she’s no longer suitable as an offering, but I can assure you she isn’t lost. I am fully capable of restoring Sisa to you.”

  In the river, the dark water began changing color, brightening with a bluish glow. An orb of energy broke the river’s surface, slowly rising out of the water. When it was entirely on the shore, the ball of blue disappeared, leaving a small girl and a robot in its place.

  Although the Grand Necromancer had lived a very long time, Ghazul found this sudden appearance unprecedented.

  Although pleased to be on dry land, Squire was awkwardly aware that he and Mel had walked into a formidable situation. Even with upgrades to his systems, the robot knew that without Sir Golan, he was outmatched by the number of armed Necronea present. Squire had no idea where his master was at the moment, but hoped he was not injured or worse. The thought of Sir Golan drowning or even being killed by the ghul upset the robot’s programming.

  “Do you have any weapons?” he asked Mel.

  “No,” she replied. “I lost my bag in the river...”

  The Necronea quickly surrounded them, forcing both the Gnomi and the robot to join Silandra beside the stone altar. Sisa, her skin a pale blue, lay resting on the table. To Squire, she looked tiny, but her face appeared strangely calm, even graceful.

  “What’s going on?” Mel asked.

  “This is Ghazul, a necromancer,” Silandra said. “He promises to bring Sisa back from the dead.”

  “How is that even possible?” Mel wondered.

  “By using dark psi...” Silandra replied.

  “She’ll be like we are,” Ghazul said proudly. “As a Necronea, she will live forever and never know death again.”

  Mel frowned, her eyes turning serious.

  “I knew someone once,” she said. “He died, but they said they could bring him back by downloading his personality into a robot.”

  “Fascinating!” Squire said.

  “I loved him and I would’ve given anything to get him back, but whoever was inside that robot, wasn’t the Randall that I knew anymore.”

  Silandra was silent, her brows furrowed in thought. After a few moments, she turned to the Grand Necromancer.

  “Sisa was my only daughter,” she told him. “When you took her away, you stole the most precious thing in my life. As Mel said, I would do anything to bring her back, but that’s not what you’re offering.”

  “No?” Ghazul said.

  “You were right about her purity,” she went on. “I can’t say I understand how dark psi works, but I know I don’t want you defiling her with it.”

  Now it was the necromancer’s turn to be silent.

  “As you wish,” he sighed. “You may take her in peace. We will not prevent you.”

  “Really?” Mel asked. “You’d just let us walk out of here?”

  “No,” he said. “Not you.”

  “What?”

  “We still require someone pure to sacrifice or the Old Ones will become angry.”

  “Why are you looking at me then?” Mel asked, pointing at herself.

  “You are a virgin, correct?”

  Mel laughed uncomfortably.

  “Don’t be stupid,” she said. “I’ve been with lots of guys...”

  “You’re obviously lying,” the necromancer said.

  Squire leaned closer to the Gnomi, whispering in her ear.

  “I’m afraid he’s right,” he said. “It is pretty obvious.”

  “You’re not helping!” Mel replied.

  “The others may leave,” Ghazul told Mel, “but you must pass through the doorway.”

  “What doorway?” Mel asked.

  The Grand Necromancer waved his staff at the ornate drawing of a doorway carved into the side of a stone wall. Along the outside of the drawing was lettering similar to those on the flesh golem. These letters also began glowing. At the same time, the center of the doorway faded away, its edges falling inward like a waterfall from above.

  One of the Necronea grabbed Mel by the arm and forced her toward the portal. She punched and kicked him, but Mel’s small size kept her from landing a solid blow.

  “Stop!” a voice shouted.

  Much to Squire’s relief, Sir Golan appeared and immediately sent Rippana threw the nearest Necronea. The sword pierced the bone armor, sticking out the other side. Unfazed, the undead fighter struck the knight squarely across the face, launching him backward several feet. The blade still dangling from his chest, the Necronea merely laughed.

  “Shining knight, my butt,” Mel remarked.

  “Stop this nonsense!” Ghazul shouted. “You cannot harm us and we cannot die! The girl must go through the portal or the Old Ones will enact their vengeance on all living things. What we do here is for your benefit, not ours! We protect you from the terrible power of the Void!”

  “You’re saying if I don’t go through, terrible things will happen?” Mel asked doubtfully.

  “The end of all things,” Ghazul said.

  “He makes a lot of valid points,” Squire said.

  “Again,” Mel replied, “not helping!

  “You must do this,” Ghazul told her. “It’s the only way.”

  Mel stared into the doorway.

  “Don’t do it!” Silandra yelled.

  “It’s okay,” she replied. “Since Randall died, things haven’t been exactly great.”

  “That doesn’t mean—” Silandra started.

  “People have been making sacrifices right and left,” Mel stopped her. “Maybe it’s finally my turn.”

  The Necronea holding Mel released his grip. Standing on her own, she took one last look at the others and smiled.

  Then she disappeared through the doorway.

  A version of this story appeared in the novel, The Dragons of Andromeda (2018)

  Magnus Black: Exit the Dragon

  Sub-basement 31 was over three hundred feet below the Regalis starport on Aldorus. Magnus Black found this useful for two reasons. First, it was too deep for someone to transmat in or out, including transmatting Magnus without his permission. Second, it was too deep for weapons fired from orbit to reach, even if someone wasn’t timid about destroying the thirty floors above sub-basement 31 and whatever happened to be sitting on the starport surface.

  It was also dimly lit. Magnus liked that most of all.

  Positioned in the shadow of a rusted storage container, Magnus waited. His head and face were shaved to a mere stubble and he wore a dark leather coat. Inside the coat, a blaster pistol hung by a shoulder holster.

  Down the line of other containers, an elevator door opened with a cheerful ding and a man in uniform stepped out. His name was Colonel Hugo Grausman, a man Magnus knew very well.

  In his fifties, the colonel wore a green uniform with black, spit-shined boots. His dark brown hair was cut high and tight revealing a large scar running along the side of his head.

  Colonel Grausman held up his hands and turned completely around, showing that the holster at his hip was empty and no other obvious weapons were visible. Magnus let him stand there for a full minute before saying anything.

  “I didn’t expect to see you again,” Magnus said, “unless I was going to kill you.”

  Following the assassin’s voice, the colonel took several steps in that direction before stopping.

  “I get that a lot,” he said.

  “I hope this isn’t just the Intelligence Service luring me into a trap,” Magnus said, emerging from the shadow.

  “They’re still looking for you?”

  “If I’m still breathing, they’re still looking for me.”

  “Maybe I can help you with that...”
the colonel suggested.

  “Is that why you’re here?” Magnus asked. “To do me a favor?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “I’m hurt,” Magnus replied.

  “There’s been a terrorist attack on Marakata,” the colonel said.

  Magnus shrugged. “That’s a daily occurrence...”

  “A suicide bomber got into the green zone and blew himself up, taking out half the officers’ quarters,” the colonel went on.

  “The Draconians aren’t going to stop until the Imperials leave their planet.”

  “I know that!” the colonel said angrily. “I’ve been fighting them for over twenty years.”

  “So why’s this attack different?”

  “Because my wife and kids are dead! They died in the explosion!”

  Magnus arched his eyebrow, but said nothing.

  “We killed off the terrorist cell responsible,” the colonel continued after collecting himself, “but the leader’s still at large.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Do you still remember General Ekavir?”

  Magnus glared. “You know damn well I do.”

  “Then you won’t mind going after him for me.”

  “He’s not my problem any more,” Magnus replied.

  “A lot has changed since you were there,” the colonel said. “Ekavir has lost most of his people from reprisal raids. The rest don’t want to be anywhere near him. They say he’s lost his honor.”

  “I guess killing kids will do that for a person.”

  “The two of you have unfinished business. This is your opportunity to finish him off once and for all.”

  “Are you sure he’s still on Marakata?” Magnus asked.

  “The planet’s been under blockade since the attack,” Colonel Grausman replied. “I haven’t allowed anyone off the planet except myself to come here. He’s got to be in the jungle somewhere. It’s just a matter of finding him.”