Gravetower

by Kell Inkston

  Contents

  Gravetower

  Copyright

  Chapter One: Steal Away

  Chapter Two: The Rear

  Chapter Three: Entry into a Planetary Graveyard

  Chapter Four: Hot on the Trail

  Chapter Five: One Last Breath

  Chapter Six: A Night to Remember

  Chapter Seven: An Inglorious Response

  Chapter Eight: Rush for the Keep

  Chapter Nine: A Good Example for the Others, and Daybreak Takes the Forge

  Chapter Ten: The Animal Pen

  Chapter Eleven: The Strong and The Wise

  Chapter Twelve: H E L L I N E A R T H

  Chapter Thirteen: The “Overlord” and Revenge

  Chapter Fourteen: Death in the Dark

  Chapter Fifteen: Reclamation

  Chapter Sixteen: Old Friends

  Chapter Seventeen: Behold and be silent, for I am considering my next decision

  Chapter Eighteen: Perfect Interrogation

  Chapter Nineteen: Absolute Torture

  Chapter Twenty: Setting on the Mantle of Darkness

  Side Chapter 1: A Setback

  Side Chapter 2: An Unexpected Signal

  Author Note

  Appendix

  Gravetower

  Kell Inkston

  Copyright 2017-2018 by Kell Inkston.

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Any names or characters, businesses or places, events or incidents, are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  For the little seal who always had a smile for me:

  I impart this gift to you.

  Chapter One: Steal Away

  Deep in the lowest pit of the Minion Arena Tower, two elite combatants strike each other with lethal speed and precision as thousands of onlookers cheer. At the very highest balcony and attended by a host of service minions, watches The High Overlord himself alongside his two guests.

  Love, at his left side, watches with her slow, focused pastel eyes as a titanically-large combatant throws its fist down toward another that’s faster than any other she’s seen. She gently arches over to Chaos, who is sipping his tea musingly while he sits in his obsidian throne.

  “Which one's going to win?” She whispers playfully, gaining a quick glance from Aoline, sitting on the right side and filling her mouth with every pleasure Overpriced Arena Food Minion can fit on display in his cart.

  Chaos’ white, powerful eyes squint ever so slightly as he rests his chin into his hand. “Who can say?”

  Meeo Letlind, A.K.A. Knight Love, coos pleasantly. “You tend to be pretty knowledgeable about this sort of thing— aren’t you? Who are we taking with us?”

  Chaos smiles, glancing down his side to look at her. “I will know who’s coming with us, once one of them wins, dear. You must understand I cannot simply bring everyone along on this. I need only my very best.”

  She shakes her head and returns to a proper sitting position. “Okie dokie… So are you bringing… both of them?”

  “Pardon?” Chaos asks— not because he didn’t hear her, but rather because he likes listening to her talk.

  Love scoots to the edge of her seat. “We’re bringing them both, right? You want a few of your very best?” She peers down at the fight. It would help to see them both clearly if the spectators’ positions weren’t nearly a mile up in the air.

  Chaos grins. “Not quite, my dear. I have already picked the fourth and fifth in our party of six. This one is to decide on my combative substitute.”

  Love sits up attentively. “So we’re leaving after this?”

  Chaos hums without enthusiasm, but always with a tone of perfect analysis. “Not quite. A meal should come first.”

  “Ahh! Of course,” She peers back down at the fight; the huge one’s started to slow down, and the limber one has only become faster. So small is the second one, in fact, she’s unsure as to whether she’s truly seeing its movements at all, or simply a trick of the torch light. The minions below jeer and cheer at a fever pitch as the massive combatant is smashed across the air into the pit wall, the force of the collision marring the stones white with blood. The blast is so intense, a cindering light marks the spot in the air where the blow was executed— as if the ether itself is impressed by the strength. This is the only strike to overpower the cacophony of cheers during the fight, marking an appropriate end to an epic bout.

  “Wow,” Aoline mutters with a mouth full of popcorn, her voice scarcely audible over the immense celebration of the minions below.

  “He must be quite the strong one,” Love says with a smile and a nod. “He’s the one?”

  Chaos chuckles in his dark, secretive way, as if he’s always in on some hidden joke; he takes to his feet to address the crowd. “MY CHILDREN! YOU HAVE SEEN IT FOR YOURSELVES! THE VICTOR SHALL ACCOMPANY ME ON MY NEWEST AND GREATEST QUEST!” In the mile-long stadium, Chaos is perhaps the only being who does not need a microphone to be heard by all.

  “AS PROMISED, THOSE DEFEATED WILL BE GIVEN A WEEK OF EXTRA DUTY IN THE TEA GARDENS!” He exclaims to feverish jeers and cruel excitement. “KNOW THIS, THE PRICE OF GLORY IS HIGH— BOTH IN DEFEAT, AND VICTORY! THE PRIME PROTAGONIST OF THESE TRIALS SHALL NOW SERVE AS MY RIGHT HAND IN THE FIGHT AGAINST THAT LOW-LIFE NECROMANCER PRETENDER, OA!” Chaos grins when another cheer swells up from the minions, each hungry for a piece of the necromancer pie, for all are in the same spirit with their dark master. “THAT IS ALL I HAVE TO SAY. HAVE A NICE MORNING AND REMEMBER, IT’S TACO NIGHT!”

  Love isn’t all that surprised that, of all the things Chaos announced, this excites the minions the most. Tacos are wonderful, and everyone knows it.

  Chaos turns from the crowd to fireworks blast and trumpets sound. He offers his hands to his guests on both sides. Love takes his dark, sharp fingers, and lifts up gracefully, while Aoline sort of stumbles along his arm, almost cutting herself on his myriad edges.

  “What now?” Love asks.

  “Breakfast,” he says with a brilliant grin, leading her by the arm, Aoline a step behind. “Unless you would rather just take tea and be on with it.”

  She hums. “Whatever you’d like, sir.”

  He chuckles. “You are my guests,” he notes while they meander through the cool air of the desert night via one of his many tower-portals. “It would be rude if I weren’t to assist you in my duties as a host,” he adds firmly as they cross realms into another one of his towers— the one that just so happens to be in her own dimension along with Kanvane, Ragnivan, and all the other lands they both know so well.

  Their steps unwrap the world like paper, leading into a surprisingly calm, wooden room, more fitting to the atmosphere of a cabin in the mountains than the High Overlord’s own domain.

  Aoline gawks at the hundreds of curious mementos and trophies along the walls, each baring testament to but one of his millions of adventures.

  “These are…” she mutters out the rest, eying certain pieces of gear from Royal Knights long passed.

  Chaos nods with a pleasant hum. “They certainly are, my young knightess. I would like to think I have the greatest collection ever assembled… but it is mostly for reasons of pride now more than anything, I suppose. These are just some of the one’s I’m happiest with. I usually put the others in closets and pantries such, wherever I can fit them, really.” He leads them over to a quaint wooden table of solid construction and careful, intricate design— the carved floral patterns exploding fiercely against the backdrop of dragon scales and holy swords.

  Taking her seat, Aoline recognizes only a few of the chivalric symbols, but Meeo can call most of them off by name. “Righteousness’ shield… thought I’d never see it again… didn
’t it fall into Trench?”

  Chaos grins, averting his gaze in some weird form of embarrassment, as if leaping into the most dangerous place known on their planet is just a dorky passtime to him. “It certainly did,” he confesses.

  Aoline stares on dumbfounded and Love nods without surprise as Chaos’s antennae move in a smooth gesture to call forward some of his minions.

  “So, what are you hungry for?” Chaos asks, changing the subject with surgical precision.

  Love looks around the kitchen’s humble trappings, sorely in need of an update. “What do you have?” No sooner have the words escaped her mouth than Cooking Minion himself appears from around a corner, as short and snappy as ever.

  “Sir!” He reports, firing off a jaunty salute.

  “Hi!” Aoline says again, though she greeted him with equal excitement just an hour ago.

  “Good day, cookling. Prepare something with plenteous carbohydrates and protein. The road will be long considering humans will be in my company. Please ensure the food is appropriate for their consumption.”

  Aoline squints an eye as Cooking Minion admits a resounding “Yes, sir!”and rushes off to fetch ingredients.

  “C-…carbohy-drates?”

  Chaos draws back as if shocked, but he looks to Love, who nods, slying her gaze in Aoline’s direction as if to imply she has no idea what it is. “Ahh, pardon. Nutritional concepts like that aren’t quite widespread here yet, are they? Bread, my dear. Bread and meat, or some food that serves the same purpose.”

  Aoline looses an enlightened “Ohh!” before nodding. “Got it. Thanks.”

  Love looks over to the open chairs. “So will our companions be meeting us for breakfast?”

  Chaos’ antennae twitch. “Most of them are already here. One is simply very good at hiding, and the other moves silently.”

  “What of the third?”

  “I would expect him to ensure the cleanliness of his rifle at this present time.”

  Aoline hums awkwardly again, earning of Chaos a paternally-sweet smile. “A type of firearm.”

  “Whoa, like the Easterners!” She points out.

  His smile gains a hint of wryness. “Yes. He’s quite skilled at all forms of combat, but marksmanship is his finest.”

  Saying this, another minion folds from around the corner. Her round optics designate that she’s female almost instantly, as each has small, almost caricatured eyelashes that glow in tandem with her eyes— as if they were part of the shape itself. Love thinks it a bit cartoonish. Her antennae are curled gracefully into the shapes of a pair of octave clef notes. “Hello, father,” the medium-short minion presents with a lithe fully naked curtsy, as any proper minion would.

  “Music Minion, good day to you,” Chaos says with a nod. “Play one of the realmancied records on the phonograph, if you please.”

  She hums while she looks over at the record player. She folds her hands through the long row of disk sleeves. Love and Aoline exchange an amused glance before she exclaims with a triumphant “Aha!”. “How about this one, sir?” She flips out a strange red-black one, with what Aoline could only assume is a magic sigil painted out in white on the top.

  Chaos squints an eye in amusement as he considers it. “That should do nicely.”

  She bows. “Thank you, father! I’ll put it on immediately!” She moves to lay down the record and lift the needle. From the shapes Meeo can make out at a distance, she reads the word “Dupree” near the center of the record before it’s placed. Music Minion bows and takes to the side of the player for when it’s time to attend to it again.

  The pleasant sounds of bongos and drums overtakes the warm room while Cooking Minion returns with his ingredients— at least ten pounds of tomatoes, eggs, peppers, fish, and other, more exotic cuisine selections. Rather than asking if it’s okay, he simply passes right on to the stove and begins washing, dicing and roasting.

  Chaos listens to the music in a moment of simple appreciation, but before long he opens his eyes to continue. “Now, I suppose I’ll have them introduce themselves.” He clears his throat. “Dark Arts Minion,” he beckons.

  Suddenly, a perfectly clear figure near the fireplace steps down, ending its illusion instantly. She’s a minion about Aoline’s height, which is considerable in comparison to most minions, and is perhaps the thinnest figure she’s ever laid eyes on, let alone a minion. There’s a weird isolation to her visage; perhaps it’s the antennae which eerily resemble small, cute antlers, or her glowing white eyes, so small and so white they deliver a distinctly inhuman expression—like an animal staring in the night.

  “Master,” she says, her tone of both a greater poise and yet rawness than Magic Minion, Aoline thinks.

  Chaos nods pleasantly and turns to Love. “This is Dark Arts Minion, she’s one of my foremost advisers in arcane matters. To be quite honest she was my second pick, but Undead Extermination Minion is a bit tied up at the moment doing some reconnaissance. Either way, she is the best at what she does, and it will be helpful for tracking and combating necromancer trickery. We will be dealing with plenty of that sort, I figured it would be a wise choice to bring her along in case I…” he clears his throat. “-have an episode.”

  Love nods knowingly, bringing another bewildered look to poor Aoline. “So what could Undead Extermination Minion be up to, I wonder?” Love asks leadingly.

  Chaos smiles. “Truth be told I’ve already put many of my minions on tasks to aid us against the threat. He’s following an especially promising lead that suggests Oa may in fact be but a part of a certain ‘League of the Dead’. Last we spoke he said he was hot on the tail of Overlord Pales herself.”

  Love’s brow raises in intrigue while Aoline continues to plummet into the depths of confusion.

  “Wait, Pales is real? As in a real person?” Aoline asks.

  Chaos and Love, both with long histories, share a parental glance, relishing her cuteness for only a half second. “She absolutely is,” Chaos says. “Did you hear otherwise?”

  Love addresses Aoline with her gaze. “So, the graphic novels aren’t real.”

  Aoline draws back. “So… it is the same girl?”

  Love smiles. “With… fewer, artistic liberties, yes.”

  Chaos nods. “She’s quite the troublesome one, probably the second greatest vampire I know of.”

  Meeo flinches. “Wh- and who would be the first?” The tone with which Meeo asks this makes Aoline a bit uncomfortable.

  Chaos grins devilishly. “My eyes see all, dear Friendion,” He says, finally gesturing Dark Arts Minion to a seat.

  “See what?” Aoline asks when yet another thing flies right over her head.

  The two ancients just exchange another comfortable glance; it’s starting to get on her nerves.

  “Do not worry yourself, knightess. It is a rather private and… convoluted situation with that.”

  She just nods— steadily asking herself, bit by bit, just what kind of adventure she’s signed up for.

  Chaos turns back to Dark Arts Minion. “You have been briefed on the situation, haven’t you?”

  “I have, master,” she says simply, loftily stepping to her designated chair in perfect, horrible silence. Not even the chair makes a squeak as she pulls it up, but Aoline’s certainly does when she scoots an inch away.

  “And are your accoutrements ready?”

  From her fine, almost saw-tooth jaws resembling Chaos’ though far smaller, she pulls forth a long piece of paper with several wrapped sticks, displaying them just a moment before pushing them back in. Aoline’s gaze is wide, and totally freaked out—while Love, recognizing their purposes, nods with a pout, as if, again, impressed.

  “Wonderful,” Chaos coos cheerfully. “I’ll introduce our humans once everyone’s here.” His antennae twitch quizzically, as if detecting movement. “Seems we have another fine minion ready to go. Come forward, Ranger Minion.”

  Unlike with Dark Arts Minion, Aoline can just barely hear this one coming to he
r, it’s clear as day that this must be the winner of the afore-witnessed arena tournament. Up from a basement staircase comes a tall, compactly-muscular minion—a tan beret tucked into his dark vest of many, many pockets, and a weird black shape slung around his back. Unlike his fully-dark, completely light-absorbing body, the object has a matte finish, and gleams faintly in the lazy sunbeams from the forest outside; it must be a firearm, she thinks, like what she learned about in the academy.

  The newly arrived minion, just inches shorter than Chaos’ majestic height, steps forward. He enters military attention and raises his right arm in a slow, measured, confident salute.

  “Ranger Minion, reporting for duty, sir.”

  Chaos nods to a seat. “Glad you could join us. I trust you’re prepared to fight?”

  Unlike most minions' eyes Aoline’s seen, Ranger Minion’s are constantly sharpened into bitter, cold slits, as if in a perpetual state of suspicion and readiness.

  “Squared away, sir.”

  “I expected nothing less… Now I suppose that’s all but one.”

  Cooking Minion looses a light, smarmy scoff as he slings out plate after plate of vegetarian omelets and fish fillets to everyone’s plates from his enormous skillet. “Who, another operator-class minion?”

  Chaos nods. “Oh, I’m afraid this one is in a class all her own. A matter of fact, I think she’s perfect for this job.”

  Cooking Minion pauses right after serving Aoline; his expression slants suspiciously. “Wait, she? Sir, you mean you’re bringing that friggin’ freak along.”

  Chaos nods again, completely sure of his choice. “I suppose if that is what you insist on calling her, yes.” Aoline scoffs lightly to herself; just what would a freak be like in a minion’s definition?

  Without warning, Cooking Minion freezes up in suspicion— looking under the table, around corners, inspecting every small detail of the comfy environment. “So… she’s here?”

  “She is,” Chaos admits with a pleased grin. “You better watch out. She thinks your duel hasn’t ended yet.”