Necromancer’s Sorrow: (Series Finale)

by Pablo Andrés Wunderlich Padilla

  Her long chestnut-brown hair hung almost as far as the surface of the water and the reflection of her emerald eyes pierced her. She was suddenly nervous. Who was watching her? Could it be herself?

  Terror possessed her when she realized that it was herself: Luciella Buvarzo-Portacasa, the girl who had grown up on her parents’ farm and later survived the calamities of the village of San San-Tera. Those eyes, that gaze. It was months since she had seen herself in a mirror. Now, her reflection was examining her curiously. Who are you? the image seemed to be asking her.

  Luchy sat down on the edge of the ravine and began to cry. A hand touched her shoulder gently with a giant palm occupying almost the entire space between her shoulders. She did not need to open her eyes, sensing Mojak’s subtlety and grace. The guardian’s energy said nothing more than, Cry. It’s necessary. Let it out.

  Luchy felt different. She was no longer the girl of yesterday, nor the little princess of the estate, nor mommy and daddy’s daughter who enjoyed caramel, nor the young girl in love with her best friend who would one day marry him and have a big, big family of beautiful children.

  She was now a young woman whose heart was broken in pieces, each piece scattered, thrown, forgotten, shattered by the cruel events of life. She had been made to suffer and in the process, had been forced to mature toward a path that had hardened her emotions and created a thick hide around her soul. But despite all that defensive armor against the cruel world, Luchy still possessed a gentle, tender soul that needed to let go of her troubles.

  And now her beloved had vanished and nobody knew where he was except—

  She stopped crying. Her tears flooded her engagement ring and the jewel was flickering steadily without any hesitation.

  With a timid smile, she looked closely at the jewel again. Weeks before, it had been a source of frustration. Now that her soul had spilled the bowl of her emotions, the jewel had become something like the beacon of hope.

  A powerful force tugged at her, a primitive idea that had arisen from within her. Standing, she turned to see her guardian, this giant who was looking straight into her eyes. Luchy’s gaze said it all and Mojak replied with a look of pleasure.

  To the east, the sun was beginning to rise between the fingers of the trees, a liquid pulp spilling out over the world as if the gods themselves were pouring magma over the wild temperate land.

  Mojak was moving briskly westwards, making no sound. Luchy, dressed in the garments of wyvern hide, began to be aware of Mother’s scents and for the first time in what seemed weeks, felt welcome and at ease amid so much verdure.

  Chapter XII — Deliberation

  It was the first time that the Interworld Assembly had met since its creation.

  Mérdmerén was ready, sitting at the head of the oval table. Ever since the Council of Kings had been founded, the meetings had been held here. The room was in one of the palace towers and there was only a single entrance, guarded at all times.

  The King of Mandrake had given orders that his seat should be the same height as the others. Although the meetings would take place in Háztatlon, he would be sitting with the leaders of the neighboring nations and other worlds and he did not wish to offend them by giving the impression that he felt himself to be the leader among leaders.

  Turi was present as the king’s esquire. But today, instead of being behind the sovereign, he was in one of the seats at the oval table since today, the members of the Interworld Committee would be chosen and declared and he would be taking part.

  Mérdmerén was watching the lad carefully. He had changed considerably since he had met him so many years ago in that impoverished part of town when the assassins of the Brotherhood of the Crows had tried to hunt him down with one of their poisoned darts. It had been in Chauncy’s Inn, he remembered.

  In those days, Turi had been a little thief with a big mouth. Since then, he had taken part in many adventures that had forced him to grow up from being a little thief. He had become a worthy partner. The boy was dressed simply in plain purple, coffee-colored leather, and short boots, and although Mérdmerén knew he was not carrying a saber at his belt, somewhere on his body there would be more than one dagger hidden. He would never leave himself without some means of self-defense, a principle the Baron had taught him from the beginning and a habit that had saved his life more than once.

  Turi’s gaze had changed too. Before, it had been furtive, quick, and concerned with making a rapid survey of the details of what was around him. Now his gaze seemed focused on resolving what was going on within himself.

  What’s going on in this lad’s mind? wondered Mérdmerén as he watched him.

  “You’re quieter than usual, Turi. Are you all right?”

  Turi came out of his reverie. It took him a few seconds to recover his poise, then he said, “I was a simple thief. Then, I became an esquire and lived in a palace, something that all my life, I felt was offensively luxurious. Now, I’m about to set off on an unbelievable mission. Other worlds? Other cultures? It’s insane.”

  Turi was in love and that was a fact of life. He did not want to admit it, least of all to his king. The dart of love had taken away his gift of the gab. Since the day he had seen her, Mérdmerén had noticed, the young man had been bewitched. Those eyes, that hair…

  Turi shifted nervously as he heard footsteps coming through the double doors guarded by several soldiers. When he saw it was Elgahar Üdessa he felt immediate relief as well as a brotherly feeling for the young mage. He had seen the growth of the mage from Ödessa to Üdessa and he had seen him defeat demons as if they were wooden puppets. Elgahar deserved the blue suit and that pointed hat which, however ridiculous it might be, suited him.

  “Turi,” Elgahar called. “It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other. How‘ve you been, my friend?” Turi stood up and embraced the mage. The best friendships are forged with people you fight alongside and with whom you survive experiences and adventures.

  “I hear you’ve been creating a school of magic,” Turi said.

  “Yes, a whole new school of magic near the Isles of Müenguen. Maggrath’s developing tremendously fast. We already have more than a hundred students.”

  “That’s impressive!” Turi said. “That’s quite a number!”

  “We’re expecting many more. Maggrath has room for more than two hundred students.”

  “Why so many?”

  “Many? It’s not that many, Turi. We have to lay siege to an entire world and try to defeat the legions of no less than the God of Chaos! With a hundred mages, all of them unskilled, we’re not going to achieve very much. Well, two of them are advanced students. Maybe you’ll meet them someday. One’s called Uroquiel and the other one—she’s Ítalshin.” The mage shrugged.

  “A woman mage?” Turi asked, wide-eyed.

  “She’s as good as her partner,” the mage replied. “She’s from Devnóngaron, you know?”

  Other footsteps could now be heard at the entrance of the room. Turi turned to look. Gáramond was coming in, followed by the Gardakian man of faith Jochopepa and a squad of Dakatak. One of the insects was dressed in purple. She was among them. His heart began to beat faster. His hands were sweating, his mouth had dried up and he felt a sudden urge to go to the latrine.

  Meromérila was looking as beautiful as ever. Since her migration to the Meridian, she had gained the weight she had lost as Fuifay’s prisoner. She had regained the size of her breasts, her buttocks, and legs whose skin was so pale they seemed made from an eggshell. But her pale skin, her silver hair, and purple eyes made her one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. She was the Queen of Gardak and the love of his life. He did not even know whether it was possible to be with a being from another planet. She had all the features of a human, so why not? She was of the species called Mílikin and they were almost identical to humans, except for their sharper faces and very differently colored eyes that ranged from purple to cyan.

  Turi shook his head, trying to
clear it of the stupid idea of getting off with Meromérila. Once again, he imagined her naked and it made him shiver. He was about to look down when he saw that the queen was returning his gaze. Those purple eyes held his own for several seconds. He was incapable of reading them but it had not been a look of refusal, at least. The queen, in her eternal grace, took her seat opposite him.

  The lad began to squirm with nerves, not knowing where to hide. He wanted to run away, escape, and vanish forever. His eyes moved in every direction except where the queen was.

  “You all right?” Mérdmerén asked. “You’re looking pale, Turi.” The look he gave him said, I’ve caught you and I know exactly how you feel.

  After the Queen of Gardak, Haziiz Farçia of the Divine Providence had come in, then the muscular dwarf Düll Donn from Doolm-Ondor, the blond giant Othus the Benevolent from Moragald’Burg, and finally, the tall, elegant figure of Sokomonoko, the Empress of Grizna.

  Then General Leandro Deathslayer came in alongside Balthazar.

  The oval table had ample space for more guests.

  “Balthazar?” Mérdmerén asked from the head of the table. He stood up to greet his old friend properly, forgetting his place as king. He did not care if the gesture lost his credibility before his peers.

  “I’ve been very busy,” the Wild Man said. “How have you been, my friend? I see the Palace and its amenities have treated you well. You’re putting on weight, and that armor doesn’t seem to fasten properly around you any longer.”

  Mérdmerén blushed and pulled his stomach in. “Oh well, you know, the snacks here are delicious,” he said.

  Balthazar allowed Mérdmerén to return to his seat at the head of the table. The Wild Man sat down when he could see that the sovereign was comfortable.

  The guards closed the double doors and many of the soldiers had the apprehensive look typical of inexperienced soldiers. Several recruits had been admitted to the service quickly after the Battle of Háztatlon when thousands had died. The security posts had to be filled quickly. To Mérdmerén’s displeasure, there were too many new faces and some of the new ones had a strange look in their eyes. He knew that several of the new ones were the Baron’s men but not all. He felt a strange twisting in his innards and knew it was because he felt unsure. Perhaps the assassins of the Brotherhood of the Crows had caught up with him. Would they still be alive after the destruction of Árath?

  No, I can’t become the prisoner of my unease, the sovereign thought, feeling his heart galloping. I can’t be the victim of paranoia. He knew that the pendant Hexilda had given him to hide him from the evil powers was hanging from his neck.

  “My dear guests,” the king began firmly. “Esteemed leaders of other nations and other worlds,” he added, to make it clear that a leader of another world had set foot here.

  If anybody managed to attack us during one of these meetings, he thought suddenly as he addressed his guests, when the leaders of other nations and worlds who have set themselves up against Mórgomiel are meeting together, he could win the war without fighting and would get hold of their planet without any resistance.

  “These are strange times, and nations and worlds which once considered one another enemies will unite to fight the forces of evil. With the help of the Dakatak, Árath has been sacked, subjected, and its dungeons emptied of the poor souls who were prisoners there.”

  Mérdmerén exchanged glances with Meromérila and both nodded.

  “Ushka has been elected by the Dakatak themselves as their representative. Although I understand that in his culture, he is no more than a messenger and that the true leader is yet to be chosen?”

  This particular insect was the only one sitting as part of the Council. The insects were tall, as much so as an average man. In this case, the Dakatak was dressed from neck to feet in a purple cloak and because of this, the ant-like segments of his body could not be seen. Four of his six legs were visible, making it clear that the cloak had been designed especially for him. He wore no hat so that his six expressionless eyes and his two antennae were visible. His mandibles were a source of uneasiness to anyone who stared at them for too long, as the observer could not stop thinking they were quite capable of crushing bones.

  Ushka spoke in his native tongue, a series of clicks which only Jochopepa and Meromérila understood. Gáramond nodded as the insect spoke, a sign that the philosopher had learned the language and understood the message.

  “Ushka says he is very grateful for allowing the separation of the insects from their former eternal masters,” Jochopepa said. He gazed warmly at Meromérila, encouraging her to feel that she was doing the right thing.

  “I, Queen of Gardak,” Meromérila said, “not only allow the separation but celebrate it with all my heart.” Her sonorous voice captivated Turi. The lad could not take his eyes off her. He drooled and Elgahar had to elbow him twice to bring him out of his trance.

  Jochopepa noticed the exchange between the queen and Turi and smiled. The queen blushed.

  “Let it be written in the history books,” Mérdmerén said. “You are witnesses to this event. Gáramond, I entrust you with ensuring that Valdur Hervix and his scribes create a clear account of this. As was promised: through the bravery shown by the Dakatak during the siege of Árath, they have earned their freedom. Árath will be your new home, the lands of the South will be yours to do whatever you wish with them, to cultivate or guard in your own way and manner. As the leader of the Mandrake Empire, I declare you worthy allies and hope you will join our efforts in the coming battle.”

  Othus the Benevolent, fair and massive, rose to his feet and said, “I support the insects’ independence. You are welcome as guests in our land of stone and iron whenever you wish.”

  “I, Düll Donn of Doolm-Ondor, support your sovereignty. I heard of your valor during the siege of Árath and your independence is fully merited.”

  “I, Haziiz Farçia of the Divine Providence, support your independence. May the lands of the South, which for so long have been the source of rubble, flourish for the first time and bring prosperity to the Meridian.”

  “And I, Sokomonoko, Empress of Grizna, know that your alliance during the coming Times of Chaos will be essential. We thank you for your courage.”

  If Ushka could have smiled, he would have done so. He stood up and bent at his waist, the usual respectful greeting in Gardak.

  “Now let us move on to another pressing matter,” Mérdmerén continued. “The migration of Gardak to the Meridian is almost complete. As the population of Gardak has now been split up, it’s important to mention that the insects are the Dakatak and the humans are the Mílikin. We have granted Árath and Némaldon to the Dakatak following their victory. To the Mílikin, we have promised the Old World.

  “For the moment, the Mílikin will make their camp in the territory known as the Fields of Flora before the ruins of Kathanas. There will be safe passage through the Early Sea with the best of the seamen of my fleet: Ságamas.

  “In Merromer, a hundred ships are being built as we speak so that you may cross the sea to settle in the Old World. Moragald’Burg has offered three hundred ships of its own. Haziiz Farçia has offered another hundred, while Sokomonoko has also offered a hundred ships. In all, a total of six hundred ships will begin the migration of Gardak to the Old World. That’s the land Meromérila has chosen for her people, am I correct?”

  The queen rose and said in perfect Mandrakian, “That is correct. The Old World, as I understand, is the land once occupied by the lost culture of Flamonia. That is where we will go and rebuild. We will be the pilgrims who bring color back to the Old World.” After her long history lessons with Gáramond, she had learned the language very well.

  “Let it be duly noted in writing,” the king said to Gáramond. The philosopher did not seem too happy at having to deliver the king’s messages to the scribes. Particularly to Valdur Hervix, who was unbearable.

  She’s crazy to want to go to the Old World, Mérdmerén thought. Stil
l, let her do it. The king did not understand why that land was so attractive to Meromérila. Despite his advice, she was set on going and settling there. Perhaps it was because she wished to be far from the sovereignty of Mandrake, which was undoubtedly the greatest power in this part of the world thanks to its size and economic power.

  “So be it,” he said. “This is what we agreed. We’ll help you in every way we possibly can to drive away the shadows left after the War of One Lament. I’ve ordered Ulfbar Üdessa to be your head mage. He and a number of his pupils will go with you to assist you in the process. You’ll be the owners of the Old World.”

  Mérdmerén was not entirely happy after saying that Meromérila would be the owner of the Old World. It had not occurred to him that she would own more than half the Meridian if she managed to extend her lands further. For the moment, she was no rival to Mandrake, but someday, if her forces grew, she might become a serious opponent. He shook his head and tried not to think about it. The best thing that could happen was that the new Gardak they founded in the Old World would prosper, and in the process, the world would progress.

  The queen, still standing, said, “Gardak is grateful to Mandrake. Here and now, I would like to ask for the help of the Dakatak. I would like it to be clear that this is not a command nor an order since you have earned your freedom.” She turned to Ushka as she said this. “It is a request from a queen to an independent people: will you help us rebuild our palace?” She went on to explain, “The Palace of Gardak was made from the powerful resins created by the Dakatak. From them, too, we make our armor and weapons. We do not know iron as such. But we will learn to wield it if you will be so kind as to teach us.

  “The Palace of Gardak was built under force by the enslaved insects. But today, I beg them to rebuild our Old World palace of their own free will. If you say no—” she looked at Ushka as she said this, “—we will understand and the matter will go no further. If you say yes, I will be forever grateful. Whatever your answer is, I hope that our friendship will last forever.”