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

by Paul Yoder

  Nomad slowly pointed over to Bede’s resting body lying on the stone ground, the white fog settling around her, still ever so faintly aglow in a white luminescence.

  “No,” Cavok involuntarily let out, and Nomad could see the strength give slightly at the sight of his downed friend—a woman that he had felt closer to than his own mother.

  Stepping, almost falling towards her, Cavok started to make his way to her body.

  Fire licked away the fog as gouts of flames poured across Cavok’s path, blocking him from his cherished companion. With flames rising high into the night’s sky, forcing him reflexively back from the searing heat, Cavok’s face turned from desolate slackness to an instant unstrung mask of wrath, his attention now fully focused on the robed figure that had conjured the flames.

  Nomad clutched his sword, it glowing faintly as he saw Cavok heft his greatsword up, ready to charge and decimate the half-grinning corpse.

  Cavok rushed in first, releasing a bellow of palpable fury, but Nomad was quicker, sprinting to Cavok’s side, lunging in at the dark cleric, sword still glowing, though dimly now.

  Striking at the cleric’s chest, bending into a more pliable protective weave of energy, Nomad pressed once more the attack, almost breaking through when a greatsword came in over Nomad’s head, slamming down on the cleric’s outstretched, awaiting hand, stopping the blade in its skeletal clutch.

  The energy shield waned greatly now, but the cleric brought its staff high, shouting a command in a demonic tongue.

  Both Nomad and Cavok shouted as their bodies began to heat up, their blood seeming to boil, cooking them from the inside. Their veins began to bulge, skin turning pink red, and blood began to bleed from their ears, eyes, and nose.

  Nomad’s sword tip was through the magical impediment, slowly entering the side of the evil corpse, but at tremendous cost.

  Just as he felt his eyes were about to burst out of his skull, he withdrew, sword clattering to the ground as he half rolled, half crawled away from the wicked cleric, attempting to retreat from the flaring pain that squeezed pain from every receptor in his body.

  Cavok stood his ground, gripping with one hand on the corpse’s neck, lunging in like a feral animal to bite at the decaying thing’s face, being slowed by the still lingering shielding weave of purple energy that wrapped itself around the rotting cleric.

  Cavok, in a crazed state, seeming on the verge of self-immolation, was blasted to the ground as a chain of lightning struck the arisen’s side, blasting the thing’s robes apart, leaving the right side of its rotten torso exposed as it stumbled back, being released by the large man that now lay on the ground dazed.

  Looking for the source of the last attack, the dark cleric looked around, waving away black smoke issuing from an area of charred flesh on his side. Spotting an oddly familiar-looking, old man wearing pale-purple robes, the arisen narrowed his eyes, seeing smoke dispersing from the old man’s contorted, upheld hand.

  The dark cleric’s visage now a wicked scowl, obviously not pleased to have a fellow hexweave adept enter the fray, raised its staff while chanting a long line in a foul tongue.

  Zaren was quick to reply in kind, quickly taking out his spellbook, finding the page he was looking for in one flip, and begun reciting the ancient command words from the page as quickly as he could.

  The drone of the two voices crescendoed as the dark cleric thrusted forth his staff, launching a whirling sphere of embers as large as a man hurling towards Zaren who just finished reciting his spell, the page he had been reading from flashing bright before dissolving into a spray of water, ice, and hail, colliding with the ember sphere almost instantly after being conjured.

  The two elements swirled together, exploding in a bang of steam and cinder, causing such a blast that the two hexweavers staggered backwards a step as it went off, completely knocking out the already dazed Cavok and Nomad, rolling them over to the side.

  “We must retreat. I am in no condition from just being released from my enchanted prison to be channeling hexweave. You will most certainly lose this fight if we stay for a few more spells.”

  Reza, who had along with Fin and Jadu, been readying for the approaching gaggle of arisen troops flanking them from behind, turned to consider their options and Zaren’s advisement.

  She could see Cavok and Nomad’s limp bodies halfway between them and the cleric, who appeared to be gesticulating, speaking in a low, sinister tone, waving his glowing blood-red ring hand in jagged motions. With the chaos on the battlefield, she wasn’t quite sure what had happened to her two comrades to take them down. She didn’t even know if they were dead or just unconscious, and where Bede was, but she knew Zaren’s advice was sound. With explosions sounding off along the battlefield, with Nomad and Cavok out of the fight, Zaren admitting his sorcery was no match against their foe, along with being flanked by a growing number of dead behind them, she knew their only option at that point, for the safety of the group, was to retreat.

  The cleric finished his chant and held the glowing ring towards Zaren, unleashing three white, phantasmal orbs of wisp, forming into open-mouthed skulls as they made their way to the old man.

  Reaching in a pouch to his side, Zaren grabbed a hand of prismatic dust, casting it into the air right as the skulls approached him, the skulls dispersing, the disbanding animated mist filtering around him.

  Multicolored flames spouted up as Jadu shattered vial after vial on the ground between them and the approaching dead ranks still filing out of the causeway corridor they had entered through. The flames roaring up from the flammable vials seemed to deter the dead for the moment, but the flames, just after being lit, already died down by a degree or two, and Reza could see that the ranks were piling up, starting to push the hesitant front line into their fiery doom.

  “Fin,” Reza called, Fin chucking his fourth dagger into the crowd that were starting to make their way through the flame wall.

  “Yeah?” he answered, turning to huddle near Reza, cocking his head to hear her better over the noise on either side of them.

  “We need to get Cavok and Nomad and get out. You take care of Cavok. I’ll get Nomad. We break for that corridor off to the left of the courtyard. See it?” Reza said, pointing to their planned escape route.

  “Yeah, but what about Bede? If Nomad is here, she’s got to be close!” he shouted, having to raise his voice considerably due to another blast of flame plowing into Zaren’s defenses.

  “Nomad looks unconscious and I don’t see her. We’re all dead if we stay here any longer. We need to pull out. The city is mobilized and alerted. We’re going to find no refuge within the city walls now. Pick Cavok up and head for the exit. Once that cleric realizes we plan to retreat, all hell will be bearing down on us. No looking back, got it? You lead Zaren and Jadu who I’ll hand over Nomad to. I’ll be right behind everyone, watching our backs—understood?” Reza yelled back, her tone not leaving any room for debate.

  Fin didn’t answer, but his gaze lingered a painful moment longer before turning to look to Cavok’s fallen body, realizing Reza was ordering a full retreat out of the whole city, not just a relocation to formulate an immediate plan to extract Bede who was missing in action.

  “Jadu, Zaren! I’m going to retrieve Nomad’s body and hand him off to you two, get ready to run for the far-left corridor and follow Fin. Don’t stop, and don’t look back.”

  The commotion of torrents of flames on both sides of them, mixed with the moans of dozen of arisen approaching behind them, parting through the flames now, made it impossible for either of the two to catch Reza’s whole message, but they both nodded, showing that they understood the gist of the order just as another spray of flame came in at Zaren.

  Zaren held up the pouch of prismatic dust which exploded in front of him just as the flame tunnel crashed into him, singeing the hems of his robes as the dust broke down the incoming cinders.

  “Now!” Reza shouted across the chaos
to Fin, the two leaping in towards where their comrades lay on the ground halfway between Zaren and the cleric.

  Zaren, opening his book instantly to the page he sought, barked out in a raspy voice, which seemed more worn and old than moments before, a quick incantation.

  The page lit aglow and drifted off into nothingness as the once pale clouds above them sagged now in darkness, coalescing over them.

  A thin bolt of lightning struck down along the cleric’s staff, shattering it into a thousand splinters, knocking the cleric over as the clouds immediately began to let up.

  Two daggers came whizzing in, thwacking into the skull of the fallen cleric, the hilts protruding from his forehead like two metal, leather-wrapped horns.

  Reza snatched Nomad’s sword up and sheathed it, then grabbed Nomad by his chest piece, hefting him up with a grunt, rushing back to Zaren who now looked a picture of age, bent over and wheezing, wrinkles and sagging skin suddenly extremely exaggerated.

  “We leave now. I am of no more use in this fight in my current state,” Zaren hoarsely called as Reza approached with Nomad across her shoulder.

  Tossing the square stone he had used on Fin earlier to the ground, it floated up and expanded under Nomad as Reza lowered him to the disk, lifting him two feet off the ground, levitating him along as Reza let go of him.

  Calling Jadu over, Reza ordered the little praven to push the floating stretcher and to follow Zaren out of the far-left corridor.

  Fin was no twig of a man, but he grunted as he propped the two-hundred-and-fifty-pound man up, positioning the bulk of Cavok over his back, struggling his way back to the rest of the group.

  The cleric staggered to his feet as Fin rejoined the group, exchanging Cavok for Nomad on the floating stretcher.

  Countless splinters stuck to the rotten flesh of the cleric where it still possessed flesh, pinning its blasted violet robes to its smoking skin, the surrounding air wreaking of burnt hair, fabric, and flesh.

  Steadying itself, raising a hand with both rings on its boney hand aglow in an unholy blood aura, it began chanting and walking towards the now retreating group.

  Reza looked to Zaren to see if he was going to retort the spell, but Zaren, who caught Reza’s questioning look, just shook his head and rushed along towards the exit threshold out of the courtyard.

  “Do not fear his magic,” a ghostly female voice hissed. Reza looked down to Isis’ ring, then back up to the dark cleric who had just finished his incantation, hand awhirl in incorporeal black and red tendrils that were now reaching out to the retreating group.

  Reza had no time to think, she simply reacted, rushing in front of the ragged band, placing herself between the tendrils and everyone else.

  Fearing the worst, seeing already how competent the cleric was in weaving the hex, she braced for a nasty, burning, soul-sucking impact, but squinting one eye open, she looked around at the honey glow that now surrounded her like an orb of opposition to the dark magics the cleric lashed out at her with.

  “Go! Destroy that wretch!” Isis shouted at Reza from the ring, almost overpowering Reza with the strong telepathic command.

  Reza let down her flail, sprinting in towards the cleric with shield leading, flail hanging back, cocked and ready for a blow upon arrival.

  Not sure what had happened with his spell, but knowing his spell was being heavily contested by something, the cleric pumped more energy into his conduit, the ring spewing forth more lashing tendrils which were being sucked into the amber orb surrounding Reza.

  Leaping the last few feet, Reza brought around her flail, slamming the chained, spiked balls down on Lashik’s upper chest with bone crushing force, pressing her shield against his body to launch Lashik to the ground as she finished out her attack with a flip, rebounding off Lashik’s body to land her on her feet behind her foe.

  Bones jabbing through what was left of Lashik’s robes and flesh, the dark cleric began raggedly to stand back up, for the first time in the fight showing signs that the battle was taking a toll on him.

  “Again!” Isis screamed into Reza’s mind, spurring her on, driving her back in at the downed cleric.

  Clumsily fishing through his folds, Lashik barely pulled out a small obsidian marble with ruby tendrils etched all around it before being slammed again by Reza’s flail, sending him rolling to the side.

  “Don’t let up, Reza! Rip the perverted life from him! Snuff him out!” Isis screamed, the constant hounding adrift now in Reza’s battle-focused gaze, locked onto Lashik, lifting her flail again, ready to bring it down on his head.

  With fractured fingers, Lashik managed to toss the stone to the ground, a purple weave of energy building up over him, hissing promises of protection from Reza’s attacks as Reza brought her flail down on the crumpled lump of robes.

  Her attack smashed through the underdeveloped evil shield, slamming the arisen’s half-raw skull, producing a sickening crack.

  “Don’t stop now!” Isis continued, her voice trembling of desperation.

  Raising up her flail again, with no remaining magical impediment between her and the thing’s head, Reza brought down her flail with all her strength for the killing blow, but the next thing she knew, she was on the ground, air knocked out of her, head crooked against something soft.

  Gasping now for air, getting to her knees, she was faintly aware of Isis wailing uncontrollably, unstable in her profanities as Reza attempted to stop the world from spinning.

  Looking around, trying to figure out where she was and how she had gotten there, the first thing that came into focus was the object that had cushioned her head upon impact with the ground—and the sight she saw stilled her other, relatively unimportant, concerns.

  Bede lay before her, very still, very white, not breathing.

  “No,” Reza shakily let out, still trying to keep her eyes in focus, recovering from whatever had landed her where she lay.

  Holding Bede’s head up, Reza immediately rested it back down, feeling that every muscle in Bede’s neck was completely lax, seeing clearly that Bede was not simply unconscious, but departed from their realm.

  White hair cushioned Bede’s head as it rolled to the side, quiet sobs coming from Reza as she hunched over Bede’s body.

  She didn’t know how long she wept there, but the battlefield, in her perception of it, was still. Even the constant torrents of fire that had once scattered the courtyard, died down in reverence to her mourning.

  Brushing aside tears and stray hair, Reza attempted to stand back up, noticing for the first time, a huge depression in her chest plate armor, depressing it against her body uncomfortably tight.

  Limping to the side as she stood, a sharp pinch along her side caused her to clutch at her armor, realizing that some ribs had been either horribly bruised or broken from the impact of whatever had hit her.

  She looked out, spinning around to find where Lashik still lay, twitching from time to time. Next to him she saw a hulk of an armored figure, white hemmed, black cloak covering its head, it’s attention turning from tending to Lashik to consider Reza.

  As it stood up to its full height of seven feet, it brought two large, angled gauntlets up to pull back the hood covering its bannered helm, strips of inscribed cloth flowing down from bands and waxed stamps adorning its exterior.

  Reza stood, not sure what to do next, realizing Isis’ silence for the first time since her attack on Lashik.

  The figure stood silently, the night breeze rustling through its loose cloth and straps, tinkling hollowly against its impossibly thick plate mail.

  Reza could see now that they were alone in the courtyard, all the other mindless arisen departed from the scene, and Reza wondered if they had passed through to chase after her comrades or retreated from their master out of respect or fear. She hoped it was the latter, if indeed this was the whispered master of Lashik.

  “Isis,” Reza whispered, realizing that she was not seeing the night through the
ring’s usual spectral lens, the enchantment either greatly diminished, or completely inactive.

  Whatever the case, Reza had no time to call for help from her spectral protector now as the large knight began walking towards her, dragging a warhammer by its side, the four pronged head of the weapon being as large as a maul, with the pick curving out extensively, almost as if it were a scythe. The massive weapon must have stood almost Reza’s whole height, and now she understood how her chest plate had come to harbor a massive dent in its center.

  Bringing her shield up, attempting to present a defensive front against the looming figure, she looked back at Bede quickly to consider if she should hold her ground or attempt to retreat, knowing full well she wasn’t going to be able to heft Bede’s body and outrun her opponent with her possibly cracked ribs and armor that was crushing her with every wrong move.

  The oppressive knight was deceptively fast, switching his stance last second to throw all its weight into a sweeping attack, the warhammer’s pick end latching behind Reza’s shield, easily ripping it from her arm, flinging it off to the side, it clattering end over end along the stone floor.

  Reza toppled, the force of the yank easily pulling her down in front of the large knight. She scrambled to get back up, fighting through the pain as she stood back up to find the knight simply standing there before her, waiting on her to stand.

  Resting its Warhammer downward in one hand, the knight tauntingly puffed out its chest, presenting Reza with a clear blow anywhere along its body.

  She staggered a moment, shaking off the torsion pain from having her latched shield so violently ripped from her arm.

  Leaping up, she slammed the knight right across the neck and side of its head—the spiked, chained balls seeming like little marbles plinking against the massive figure’s armor.

  The knight stood standing, only the armor it wore moving with the blow that Reza gave. Reza seemed more hurt from the attack than the knight was, stumbling against her foe as her chest exploded in pain from the dynamic movement.

  A large gauntleted hand gripped Reza by the head, throwing her off of the mountain of armor she rested against, flinging her like a ragdoll across the court.