Necromancer’s Sorrow: (Series Finale)

by Pablo Andrés Wunderlich Padilla

  She was still thinking about what answer she would give him. All the same, her soul was convinced that she would say yes. She would do it.

  “Say something! Stop shimmering! I’m fed up with you!”

  Luchy tore the ring off her finger for the umpteenth time and buried it under her pillow once again. She crossed her arms and began to weep. Rufus came to lick her tears, the old dog as upset as she was herself. He moaned, sharing the pain they all felt at Manchego’s absence.

  It was impossible to see his nose in the shadows so late in the night. The moon was on the wane and the snow kept falling stealthily. Only the children enjoyed the snow. For the younger ones, the frozen precipitation was a wonder. But for the majority, it was one more problem in their lives that were hard enough already.

  The village went on prospering. But as it was somewhere used to sunny summers and rainy winters, the snow had brought too many problems. Several people had already died because of the low temperatures and their freezing limbs.

  Thanks to the Gods—the dead Gods?—Lulita had kept several garments of sheep’s wool in a drawer, and because of this, they could be warm. But it was difficult to stay warm in a house of wood. They had had to buy a wood-burning stove that had been modified by the village blacksmith with a chimney coming out of the roof.

  This stove was placed in the center of the house and it burned chips of seasoned wood. This invention had been suggested by Don Dargos of Vásufeld who, having lived in the North, had recommended this device. The artifact had a series of arrangements for preventing the estate from catching fire.

  “No more!” Luchy cried under her breath, so as not to wake Lulita. Unable to contain herself, she put her hands under the pillow and brought out the engagement ring.

  She was gasping as though she had run dozens of leagues. She held the ring before her face, this perfect jewel shimmering periodically with brightness enough to be noticed during the day, but not strong enough to illuminate anything. Not even the gold of the ring itself lit up with its glimmer.

  “No… I can’t leave it. It’s the only thing I have of his! Balthazar said it would be the only way of finding him if he’s still alive. He must be alive. Manchego’s always been a fighter.”

  She put the ring back on, feeling the reward of relief at the touch of the cold metal around her finger. She was addicted to the ornament and every time she was away from it she felt inconsolable anxiety.

  She could have gone out to the observatory, but walking without a light was not a good idea. The snow not only got into everything and made you cold, then made everything damp when it melted, but also created traps by covering up holes you could stumble into by accident. Once she had fallen on her face when she had tripped on a hidden rock; another time she had put her foot in a deep, half-frozen puddle of mud.

  Barely a month had gone by since Ajedrea’s wedding and at the same time, unfortunately, bitter troubles had arrived. Despite this, most people did not seem to understand the difficulty of the times.

  Are we without the Gods? Does this mean we’re without hope? asked the young woman.

  The Gods were dead, or so the Pontiff of Háztatlon had said. The people carried on with their daily routine without contemplating the consequences of what was to come. Oddly, people went to the Décamon more often these days even though, for the first time in history, all the stained-glass windows—except that of the Goddess of Night—were faded and unreadable. It was a sign of the absence of the Gods.

  Luchy lay back down on her bed, unable to sleep. It was hours before she fell into a doze. When she managed to do so, the neighbor’s wretched rooster woke her up at six in the morning. The crops they had planted had not survived the assault of the cold weather, and now they needed to find some new kind of business before the suffering truly began.

  ***

  Dawn broke with the ear-splitting shriek of the neighbor’s rooster. Luchy jumped out of bed and went into the kitchen in her woolen slippers.

  Lulita was already preparing breakfast, boiling tamales in a giant pot. The smell was delicious.

  “The poor workers are out in that intense cold. We’ve never seen anything like this before. Snow… I never thought I’d see anything so pretty and yet so destructive.”

  Luchy looked out through one of the few windows that were ajar. Most of them were shut against the cold which filtered in from outside. The green grass had been replaced by a white blanket. An endless carpet decorated the horizon.

  Rufus, on the other hand, did not seem to be suffering from the cold. With a generous coat of long hair, the dog was enjoying himself outside, helping the shepherd who had been hired to drive the sheep. He was an everyday shepherd, not at all like Manchego and still less like Eromes.

  “Taters. That’s what they say grows in winter; carrots and cabbage too. We’d better do what we can, child. We had to pull up the wheat, and thank the Gods the corn was harvested in time. I hope the cold winter doesn’t destroy our manure. The times we’re living in!”

  The grandmother was assailed by a paroxysm of sadness, her hard shell worn away by an endless sequence of emotional blows that had left her vulnerable.

  “You’ve got to do it, Luchy. You’ve got to accept Balthazar’s proposal. I know I said it would be cruel for me to recommend a path like that with all its hardships, but only you can save him. I know he’s alive! I can feel it in my heart! And my ancient body can’t manage a dangerous journey like that. You’re the one, child. You’re the answer.”

  Luchy knew it. She could feel it in her soul. She had to do it, no matter what, and the longer she delayed, the less hope there was left.

  Balthazar’s proposal sounded ridiculous for a young girl like her, barely seventeen springs old. Kings and queens had to deal with their troubles as the conquest of Árath was only just around the corner. The great heroes and the generals of war would concentrate all their energies on neutralizing the demons of Némaldon. There was no-one else who could help her.

  Luchy exchanged looks with Lulita, then she stared out into the distance. With a deep sigh, she went back to her room and began to prepare for her departure. She would accept Balthazar’s proposal, no matter how dangerous it might sound.

  Chapter III — The Conquest of Árath

  The great host marched south. Its mission was to besiege and conquer Árath.

  They had begun the march from Omen, where the army had been preparing since word had spread that they were to conquer Árath.

  The armies of the neighboring lands that sailed the Early Sea had marched from Merromer to Omen, where they assembled and readied for the advance.

  They had been on the march for three weeks and at last, they arrived at the destroyed and ruined city formerly called Ágamgor. It had been beautiful and huge, a city that for centuries had guarded the border with Némaldon. During Legionaer’s campaign toward Háztatlon, Ágamgor had been laid waste.

  Nobody had visited it after its fall until today when someone would set eyes on what had once been that great border city.

  One month had been enough to amass the armies of Mandrake, a horde of more than a hundred thousand armored bodies with their sharp missiles, swords, and a limited supply of riders and their horses.

  A division of the army of the Divine Providence had accompanied them with a total of two thousand soldiers in golden attire carrying curved swords at their belts and wooden shields on their backs.

  A division of the Moragald’Burg army had joined the gathering, providing a thousand men in full iron armor, steel swords, and shields of the same metal.

  Doolm-Ondor had sent a thousand heavily-bearded dwarves armed with war hammers or twin-bladed axes and wearing armor made of volcanic rock.

  Among so many humans there were also ten thousand Dakatak. The insects carried two spears, one in each upper limb, to leave four of their six legs free to run and climb.

  If all this had not been enough to conquer Árath, the Council of Mages had decided to send Elgahar wh
o had taken with him two of his best pupils from Maggrath.

  At a catapult’s range, the ruins of Ágamgor were spread out before the host that was to attack the Némaldine dwelling.

  The noonday sun was shining, but the powerful winds from the north brought snow with them so that small puddles froze.

  The armies were ill-prepared for the cold. They had to build large fires daily to prevent the soldiers from dying because of the low temperatures.

  The food was not at all scarce in these now-cleared areas of the Empire, where after just over a year, the land once occupied by the military city of Ágamgor and the borders of Aegrimonia (now eliminated) had allowed the flora and fauna to regain their foothold. Hunting deer or wyvern was easy amid such numbers.

  “Khad’Un, Merkas, Elgahar, Chirllrp, Amon Ras,” called General Leandro Deathslayer to each of his leaders.

  The Mandrakian army was the most numerous so the banners of that nation prevailed.

  “We’ve reached the border. Némaldon is just a few leagues away. As soon as we cross these accursed lands of Aegrimonia, we’ll find the rocky and volcanic horizon of the demon-land. A cliff opens out into a plain and in its face lie the gates that give access into the underground castle of Árath.

  “The enemy is weak and vulnerable. After the Battle of Háztatlon and the defeat of Kathanas, their numbers were reduced to just a few thousand. Without a leader, they’re defenseless. But there’s danger among its dark and evil corridors, as not all the dethis were eliminated and there’s a large number of sáffurtan who remain intact.

  “As for the rest, we’ve already discussed how many there are depends on the orcs and their hybrids—the voj and duj—which were created by Legionaer before his fall.”

  The leaders of each army never took their eyes off Leandro. It was in that imperturbable gaze where they found reassurance, for in this soul hardened by a life of bloody battles, lay the leader of this legendary operation.

  None of the leaders of the other nations had had to confront demons as often as he had; nations like Doolm-Ondor and the Divine Providence were grateful to the Mandrake Empire for keeping Némaldon subjugated since the Times of Köel.

  The six-legged insects, Meromérila had promised, would be the decisive element in this operation. They would attack like lightning and sack Árath once and for all. They would then occupy Némaldon and complete the cleansing of evil.

  A month had not been enough for them to get used to the great insects of Gardak. The men of the Meridian were still wary and did not trust those beasts that, as far as they were concerned, were akin to demons. It was also hard for the leaders of each nation to accept that they were allies. Perhaps the factor that prevented them from trusting the giant insects was the fact that they could not be read as one would read a human by his gaze.

  There were scuffles where blood was shed as a result of the distrust. Several insects were trapped and tortured for no reason. On two occasions, the insects responded violently.

  It took Balthazar, Leandro, and Elgahar together to calm the hysteria and anxiety among the soldiers. Their distrust of the insects gradually faded, particularly when they were seen to follow orders to the letter.

  “So the plan is clear,” said Merkas, general of the forces of Moragald’Burg. He had been appointed by Othus the Benevolent himself to lead this advance.

  “No man born in the lands of Doolm-Ondor will allow the plan to be carried out as currently planned. It’s a cowardly plan, gentlemen. To let the insects go in first and assume they’ll do all the dirty work is the act of a man without balls. Every man of the lands of Doolm-Ondor knows there is no honor in a battle that sheds the blood of a comrade. Glory is found, my lords—as is said by Yuyaya, our Goddess of War, Love, Money, and Jewels—in a hard-fought battle.”

  Dwarves might be inferior in size with shorter arms and legs than a normal average man, but they could wield heavier weapons. Because of this, their twin-bladed axes and heavier shields were to be feared. Their weapons weighed so much that they crushed shields and skulls with ease.

  “Careful with that hairy mouth of yours, Khad’Un,” warned Merkas of Moragald’Burg, who was at least three heads taller than the dwarf.

  “Or else what? You know very well that a threat in Doolm-Ondor is paid for with the tongue, little man from the land of rock and iron. What you have is a head full of salt and seaweed. You can’t do anything right.”

  “I’ll nail you into the ground, you bloody dwarf!” Merkas shouted.

  Khad’Un raised his ax to defend himself, but Merkas’s blow never came. Chirllrp’s voice filled the atmosphere with guttural noises. Leandro and Amon Ras were ready to intervene in case there was bloodshed.

  The man from the strange lands of Gardak jabbed with his finger. “Same side! Same side! Enemy over there—” He was one of the soldiers dressed in resinous armor. This soldier was one of the captains who were helping the squads of insects.

  The exchange of languages between Mandrake and Gardak was going fast, its progress hastened by Gáramond’s devoted studies. The philosopher was working day and night alongside Katalio and Jochopepa to educate the immigrants from Degoflórefor in the common language. Mandrakians were also learning the language of Gardak, although interest in doing this was much less.

  Khad’Un and Merkas spit hatred with their eyes. The presence of Balthazar, as well as the powerful mage Elgahar, kept them apart.

  Amon Ras, the leader of the division of the Divine Providence, said, “Although the general of Doolm-Ondor may be right, we need to understand that Árath is an underground castle whose corridors are completely unlit. To go into the darkness with the inferior eyes of a human is the closest thing to suicide. The insects of Gardak are wonderful beings with excellent night vision. I could even bet my master’s jewels that their vision is better than that of orcs.

  “For the mission to be effective and for the blast to fall with the swiftness it needs, the insects must go in first. Defeating Árath is imperative. And we must do it at a single stroke so that they cannot escape.”

  Merkas turned to the dwarf and licked his lips. Khad’Un cleared his throat and spit a gobbet on the snow-covered field.

  “We agree,” Leandro said. “The goal and the order of events are clear. We’ll set out as soon as the shadow of the nearest pine tree is two strides longer. That is, before sunset. Árath will never suspect that we’ll start at night. Eat, drink, and rest. This will be a swift war, but not short of proofs of skill.”

  The leaders took their leave and each one went back to his army, where he discussed with his captains the unfolding of the battle to come.

  Chapter IV — Heading North

  The ground was covered with snow. The horizon spread out into the distance with an endless cloak of what looked like cotton. The trees stood out in that milky sea.

  The crowns of the trees and their leaves were either frozen with tiny dart-points of water or completely covered by a blanket of snow. The birds had left the landscape without music. They had presumably sought refuge somewhere else in the world where there was still warmth.

  Luchy was rubbing her hands. She kept them within the sleeves of her cloak, a woolen garment Lulita had prepared for this mission.

  The steam of her breath poured from between her fingers. Her head was covered by the hood of her cloak. Her rosy cheeks and the pale skin of her face revealed rosy lips and eyes like emeralds.

  Her footsteps alerted the guards near the western sentry post, where a carriage stood waiting for its passenger. The metal-clad soldiers appeared extremely uncomfortable in their armor when, to brave the cold, they should have been wearing thick cloaks under the metal. The soldiers distributed throughout the village looked like statues, firm and impassive. Only the vapor of their breath and the pallor of their hands betrayed the fact that they were freezing to death.

  Several passers-by were walking in haste, even though it was the middle of the day. The sun was very bright but didn’t give any w
armth.

  The streets had to be cleared with shovels every day. Otherwise, the snow would harden into a cake of frozen water which would make people slip and cause accidents.

  Several stoves had been installed along the streets to melt the snow. Despite that, nothing seemed to be enough. And the problems had only just started. Carriages were not designed to run on snow. The horse pulling each wagon was the only part of the carriage that was at ease in the cold.

  “Thank the Gods Don Dargos of Vásufeld has a place in this village,” said a soldier at the post. “That stone castle of his gets the worst of the miserable cold. What I will say is that the Northerner knows how to arrange things to survive. If it weren’t for him, the village would’ve turned to ice by now.”

  “You don’t say. The Goddess of Water has no mercy on her worshippers. If I were God of one of the elements, I promise I’d look after my believers. But hey, listen, it’s as if the Gods were dead. D’you think what they’re saying is true? It’s rumored that the Five have been defeated. I don’t believe it. The Gods are infallible!”

  “It’s just a fairy tale and people with nothing to do swallow it whole,” another soldier sneered. “The Gods can’t die! What nonsense!”

  Luchy walked past them without a glance. The guards greeted her courteously, but the girl simply went on her way. Nobody believes the Gods are dead, Luchy thought as she went through the western sentry post toward the carriage. But I know something terrible has happened and Balthazar has confirmed it…

  One of the soldiers followed Luchy with his gaze. “People don’t say hello nowadays, do they?”

  “A very pretty girl,” muttered the other one. “Perhaps you scared her off with that ratty mustache,” he added and they both laughed quietly, only to stand to attention again when a nobleman passed by them on his horse.