Shadow of the Arisen: An Epic Dark Fantasy Novel (Lands of Wanderlust Book 1)

by Paul Yoder

  Down slashing with both blades, Nomad blurred in and out of the confused inner ranks, dropping any that came under attack from his glowing curved sword, the longsword easily parrying clumsy attacks made at him.

  Dropping two more, leaping across the pile of fallen bones landed him outside of the left flank of the regiment, giving him space and time to breathe.

  In a wide stance, curved sword threatening any who dared to come in at him, he held his longsword back and to the side, warding off another flanking formation, nostrils flaring, slanted pursed lips hissing air violently in and out.

  Looking over the battlefield, he could see Bede was still on her knees, attempting to stand. A wide swath of arisen, twenty or thirty lay fallen close to Bede, with more disintegrating that dared to advance towards Bede, her glowing sphere burning down any that wandered too close.

  A sharp pain dug into his arm, causing him to drop his longsword, two more arrows bouncing off harmlessly along his breastplate.

  The soldiers who had been waiting just out of attacking distance piled in, rushing him, and this time, he had to retreat, the press of dozens of flailing weapons quickly threatening to overtake him.

  Her conjured holy manifestation continued to ward off any advancing group of dead that came in at her, and she was supremely thankful that the killing light that hovered in her proximity was there to shield her as there was no way she had enough strength left now to even attempt to wield her mace in defense if an attacker did make it through.

  She had glanced over at Nomad a few times to see how he fared, and could see that though he had cut down a good fifteen or so troops, that he was dangerously digging deep into the ranks of the enemy and was too far in for her to even consider trying to help him.

  The robed leader pounded the butt of his staff down on the ground once more, the sound resounding louder through the court than it naturally should have.

  Bede looked up to see that the horde, all in unison, began moving in on her, slow at first, picking up speed as the front line began to fall to the ball of light which now began to fade.

  Flickering, the orb flashed one last time, blowing down the arisen that were closest to it, reducing ten rushing corpses to dust instantly.

  With Bede’s light now gone out, darkness instantly swept the battlefield. The front line now sprinting headlong with nothing standing between them and their target—now only a few strides away from Bede.

  Bede got to her feet, having no time to summon a defense, bracing for the imminent impact of metal, rotten flesh, and gnashing teeth.

  A light, shining fervently, swept in front of her, cutting through corpse after corpse on the front line, then came back around, felling the next five that rushed madly into the light that cut like white-hot steel through straw.

  Nomad moved almost too quick for Bede to track his movements, realizing it was him only after taking a moment to assess what had leapt in front of her to save her from her impending demise.

  His one good arm kept his blade in constant motion. He expended everything he had, knowing that to slow now would mean the death of both him and his battle companion.

  Parry, attack, parry, attack, became his sequence of death dealing as he made his way back around to their flank where the troops that had followed him began to file in, closing off any options for their escape.

  Emboldened by the effective encirclement, the hoard became increasingly aggressive with their press, jabbing at the two who were quickly becoming targeted by multiple weapon points.

  His armor had deflected a few blows, allowing him to switch stance to counter attack, but he was taking a dangerous risk with every weapon that slipped through his defenses.

  A spear came in at his back while he fended off three attackers from his front and two from his side, and this time the attack gouged straight through his chainmail that lined his back, the spear point piercing with enough force to split links and dig deep through his ribs.

  The sharp pain caused Nomad to stagger forward, gasping in shock of the potentially fatal wound.

  Three whistling arrows announced their presence a fraction before splitting into the skulls of two of his closest foe’s, the third arrow sinking into the base of Nomad’s neck, close to his shoulder, pitching him back, strength instantly failing his already spent legs and arms, collapsing on his back in front of Bede.

  There was a momentary hush amidst the horde as the candle of intelligence inside the arisen horde’s wicked souls took in their accomplishment before all hollow and dead eyes turned to lock on the remaining victim who was barely standing.

  Feebly lifting her talisman, etched with worshiping symbols to her God, she closed her eyes, transferring reserves of energy to the holy symbol, years of her life, entering a fatal bargain of her life for their death.

  The talisman, glowing just as bright as the sun at noonday, sent a burst of energy rolling through the ranks of the dead, violently blowing apart those closest to her, with a soft lightning storm rippling out to the far reaches of the vast host, rattling every last standing foe to its core, laying low the rest of the troop.

  All foes—except for one.

  Slowly lowering its half-bare skeletal hand, a dark-purple energy bubble slowly fading as the dust and white, glowing clouds dispersed, the leader began to walk slowly towards the two that had leveled his troop.

  Nomad gasped for air, sitting up as Bede’s dimly glowing hand slipped from his chest. Looking down, he could tell the arrow that had been in his neck was no longer there, and though the wound wasn’t quite healed, he knew it had penetrated further than it was now—the same was with his other wounds.

  A quick glance around showed him a devastated enemy force, all reduced to dust or not moving on the ground except for the robed leader that was taking its time to make its way to their location.

  A commotion behind him whipped him around to find Bede collapsed on the ground next to him, all light now faded from her talisman.

  “Bede!” Nomad shouted, reaching over to hold her head, looking for signs of life.

  Her lips twitched and let out a breath so belabored, Nomad instinctively knew that she was on her way out of her body.

  Slowly opening one eye, then the other, she looked around, confused at first. She locked eyes with Nomad, seeming to come around to where they were.

  She started to speak, whispering in a voice so quiet, Nomad had to lower his ear to her lips to hear her message.

  “That was all I had. I gave it all.”

  A gentle hand idly stroked her hair out of her eyes as Nomad looked off to the side at the ground, tears welling up in his squinting eyes, trembling as he held her limp frame, refusing to let her let go.

  “It’s been an honor to have you in our lives, Kazuhiro. Keep strong…live.”

  “Don’t leave, Bede,” Nomad said in a broken voice, tears beginning to fall freely now.

  Bede’s eyes wandered aimlessly momentarily before closing, parting her lips one last time to breathe out, “The doors are open…Elendium awaits my return, child—”

  All tension that was left in her face relaxed as a last hollow gust of breath fled from her open lips, her hand letting go of Nomad’s clutch.

  Nomad couldn’t see through the tears in his eyes, but he knew life had just passed from his companion.

  Raising heavenward, he let out a scream, soul tearing, a primordial dirge of loss.

  Hunching back over her body, sobbing, he began to notice a shadow form over him and his fallen ally. Metallic scratching of metal footwear on stone sounded directly behind him; then, a staff landed hollowly a foot from him.

  A bemused croak, then a cackle from the robed leader instantly sent Nomad’s blood into a boil, evaporating the moisture from his eyes.

  “She will make a wonderful maidservant,” the skeletal corpse rasped out through a half smile, only some of its lips remaining to show a grin.

  Nomad clutched his sword’s hilt, the blad
e instantly lighting, white flames licking the air around it.

  “I will hunt you and your evil kind to the ends of time,” Nomad spat, jolting to a low stance, yelling as he turned and swung his blade towards the robed abomination.

  “Beyond death you will fear me!”

  28

  At a Dagger’s Distance

  Entering the shadow of the gated wall at the edge of the courtyard, Fin looked back to find the group had greatly outdistanced the pursuing arisen troops. Rushing under the raised iron gate, he stumbled onto stone flooring, passing through the large archway into a walled causeway that led towards where the purple flare had shot off from.

  Coming around a sharp corner, he dodged out of the way as a long, pointed kris deftly cut in at him, the blade raking his side, luckily not finding purchase against his leather armor, but cutting loose a few belts and loose-hanging pouches.

  A hooded figure, visage obscured with the shadows of a midnight cloth, stood ready for another strike, kris held reversed in its right hand with a curved stick held outward in his left.

  Fin, upon seeing the weapon his foe chose to confront him with, smiled.

  Getting to his feet, he yanked two daggers free from their sheaths along his legs.

  “You want to take me on with a dagger and a stick? That’s rich,” Fin chuckled, sidestepping to line his new playmate up for an attack.

  A hissing whisper sounded from the shrouded figure, and a purple light emanated from the tip of the skeleton’s wand. A bolt blasting forth, Fin sprung out of the way a moment too late, the numbing energy bolt zapping into his thigh.

  Fin stumbled and laboriously stood back up, his whole left leg now completely numb.

  His eyes widened as the hooded figure began to hiss forth another command, wand tip glowing once more.

  This time Fin was able to dodge the shot in time, knowing what was coming. As the purple bolt hit the wall behind him where he had been before his leap, Fin threw end-over-end the dagger he held in his right hand, knife knocking into the skeleton’s wand hand, knocking the wand free of its grasp. The stick went flying backwards, bouncing with the knife a good distance behind the devilish attacker.

  Fin landed prone on the ground, struggling to get back up, settling with a kneeling position as he studied what his foe’s next move was going to be.

  “Fin!” Cavok bellowed from behind, just passing under the iron gate, putting Fin in his view.

  Fin turned at the call, only for a moment, but the momentary distraction was enough for the hooded skeleton to stoop down and snatch two satchels that it had sheared off of Fin earlier.

  Fin, seeing the movement from the corner of his eye, cocked back his other dagger and tossed it at the figure, a skeletal hand intercepting it just before hitting its center.

  A wicked laugh slowly sounded from the faceless victor of the scuffle as it backpedaled with Fin’s dagger in hand, snatching up his dropped wand, rushing off through an archway in the wall into a small garden.

  Feeling the remainder of his side pouches, checking what two pouches the hooded one had made off with, he pounded the ground in frustration as he realized one of the pouches held the bejeweled white-gold bracelet he had found in the enchanter’s tower, the other pouch being filled to the brim with gold.

  “Damn it!” Fin hissed out as Cavok and the others sprinted up to him.

  Reza and the rest met him with concerned looks as Cavok patrolled the area for threats as they waited on Fin.

  “Had a run-in with a particularly nasty cloaked skeleton,” Fin mumbled, trying to explain off his exhausted state,

  “Cloaked skeleton you say? Did he speak?” Zaren asked in a curious tone.

  Fin got to his feet, Cavok helping him, seeing that Fin was having trouble with his left leg.

  “Yeah, it did. Though it spoke in a tongue I’ve never heard,” Fin answered, adding, “Hit me with a blast from its wand, numbed my whole leg.”

  “That was Dubix, more than likely. Sentient dead are quite powerful. Lucky you came out of that with just a numbing spell. Here, I’ll take a look and see if I can undo at least some of the spell’s effect,” Zaren said, slipping an amethyst monocle over his eye, looking Fin’s leg up and down before pulling a small, stone cube out of his robes, pressing it onto Fin’s thigh and whispering a few words in a language no one in the group understood.

  “Ooo! Ah!” Fin yelped and squirmed in discomfort as a popping sound issued from his hip as he skipped away from the old enchanter’s painful little stone.

  “There,” Zaren said, a pleased grin across his upheld face.

  Rubbing his sore, but once again working, leg, Fin gave a dirty look Zaren’s direction before Reza slapped Fin on the back to get him moving forward again.

  “No time for antics,” she said, looking back the way they came, Fin following suit, seeing that the scattered band of pursuing arisen were passing through the raised iron gate.

  “Come, everyone. Together this time,” Reza ordered, leading the charge forward down the enclosed causeway, covering the remaining fifty feet of street before passing through a large, stone archway, leading out into another courtyard, the one that they guessed had been where the flare had been shot off from.

  A soft, white glow lingered in the large courtyard, not quite covering the scores of bodies that were scattered all through the enclosed area.

  One figure stood standing, and Reza pointed it out to the rest. Voices hissed forth from Reza’s ring, Isis biting, scathing from her back pouch. Reza placed her flail in her shield hand, reaching back to take out the enchanted ring, drawing special attention from Zaren as she placed the ring on her finger.

  Zaren had felt a ripple in the hexweave, noting Reza’s pupils widen and her breath halt. He suspected that she was under the influence of an enchantment from the ring. None but Reza, however, saw Isis step up to her, facial features twisted in anger and vengeance, pointing to the robed figure across the court as she seethed.

  “He is Lashik, the one that ravaged my little ones. Give him no quarter. Spare him no pain. He is powerful, but you will not fight alone. I will be your strength.”

  Through the white mist that hung in the air and the blood-red swirl given off by the ring she wore, she could see another figure stand up out of the dispersing white mist, screaming a phrase. Though she couldn’t make out the message, she could discern the speaker’s voice, instantly being filled with dread. She had never heard Nomad so distraught, or even imagined him capable of such passion.

  “To arms!” Reza quickly called to her companions, seeing Nomad alone next to an entity she doubted any of them were prepared to take on alone.

  Readying her shield and flail, she began the charge towards the distant, robed foe Nomad now lunged at; and, though she no longer could see Isis, she could feel her incorporeal companion’s bloodlust for the being they all now charged.

  29

  Hell’s Crucible

  Nomad put everything he had into his initial strike at the oppressive, robed figure, his blade flashing a bright white through the whole arc.

  The strike halted right before cleaving the arisen in half, snagging against a dark-purple net of energy that materialized. The blade hissed against the barrier, which gave in slightly as Nomad pressed in harder upon the hexweave spawned substance.

  A skeletal hand, adorned with a set of illuminated rings, emerged from folds of robes, latching its claw upon Nomad’s skull. A dark ember formed, penetrating through skin, beginning to drain the life from the mortal man at a frighteningly rapid rate, forcing Nomad to relent his attack, pushing the arisen back and away from him.

  The arisen readily gave a generous amount of ground to the hunched over warrior, laughing, waiting for his raging, but fatigued, opponent to come in at him again.

  Nomad paused a moment to snort through the waves of pain and exhaustion that had just come over him. The strange magic that the being had assaulted his head with drew inst
ant pain, but even before the attack, he had felt energy leaving him the brighter his sword had gotten.

  He was still attempting to comprehend the new endowment of power Bede had bestowed upon his weapon, but with a lens of rage over his vision now, the idea to temper his usage of the sword’s power was only a fleeting thought as he rushed in with a thrust to the corpse’s throat.

  The strike landed right over its intended target, but jerked to a halt as the purple weave guarded the arisen against the blade. A faint, crimson glow emanated now from the corpse’s eye sockets, the two beads of unlife meeting Nomad’s gaze, its intense stare penetrating to his core.

  Nomad jolted back as he felt all wounds that Bede had healed start to open up again, a sharp pain in his neck and back cutting back into existence, blood seeping from the reopening wounds.

  The grinning robed cadaver took a step towards Nomad who now clutched at serious wounds, the white glow of the sword’s light quickly fading. It raised a hand, robes falling down to display a bloody skeletal hand, rotten flesh at the arm joint and above, glowing with an agitated, scarlet swirl of distortion.

  Just as it thrusted its empowered hand down towards Nomad, a huge blur slammed Lashik far to the side, easily toppling him, rolling him off into the white fog that still hung amidst the battlefield.

  Cavok was quick to Nomad’s side, hefting him up like he weighed as much as a small child, Nomad wobbly keeping his footing once up. He was heavily dazed, but very appreciative of the large man’s presence and entrance.

  As Nomad looked back to see Reza and the others parting the fog, rushing to their location, Cavok asked a very pointed question that brought Nomad’s exhausted gaze back to him.

  “Where’s Bede?”