Necromancer’s Sorrow: (Series Finale)

by Pablo Andrés Wunderlich Padilla

  “Ehréledán!” came the voice of the shadow. It appeared to be looking for him as if it were unaware that its target was right in front of it. Perhaps it was because he was wearing the talisman the witch had given him. He knew he was confronted by a wraith. He remembered when Hexilda had been forced to fight against Bárfalas, or Oldbeard, whom she had fought when they were crossing the Irontangle mountains. But this wraith was different. It was far more powerful.

  “Don’t touch it!” Mérdmerén shouted. “Swords are useless against these creatures!” His words made the guards step back, disconcerted to hear that they were now prey and trapped.

  “Ehréledán!” the demon howled again in a piercing screech. Outside, it was obvious that Mórgomiel and his dragon were destroying the city.

  From one moment to the next, the dimensions seemed to overlap. Spacetime seemed to fold like a fan, then spread out again, as if someone were twisting dimensions at his will.

  Time seemed to freeze and reality spun like a cube thrown sideways. The stone floor of the room began to melt like wax exposed to a flame. Underneath the wraith, there appeared a bubble of indefinite matter that sucked light from the power it demanded. It appeared to be pure magma as if the thing that had appeared underneath it had reduced the reinforced material of the castle to liquid rock.

  The wraith that sought to overcome the sovereign began to howl, trying to escape from certain destruction. To no avail, as the spacetime phenomenon was overpowering it. Moment by moment, that creature was being stabbed by the ghost that had appeared from the liquefied floor. Soon, nothing was left of the demon, and in its place was the figure of a man.

  Mérdmerén recognized his face at once. Those eyes, blue as sapphires, now shone a furious crimson like the fierce embers of hell. From his chest shone red energy that seemed to fill his heart and the same red energy ran through his veins. The tattoo which for so long he had worn with glory and honor was now blurred, conquered by a handful of incomprehensible runes that looked diabolic.

  But what most impressed Mérdmerén was his old friend and partner’s mouth, hands, and feet. That mouth was growing as if the lower jaw could unhinge to devour some large prey. The hands were turning into sharp claws while his legs were beginning to resemble those of a dragon.

  “Mérdmerén,” said the now-recognizable figure.

  “Balthazar?” the king said with a lump in his throat. Tears were running down his cheeks.

  “Not anymore, my dear friend. Balthazar and his truce ended when Malakai, the powerful sorcerer created by Mórgomiel, tried to murder me. To avoid my death and the purge of the Meridian, I was forced to absorb Malakai into my soul. By doing this, I surprised him greatly. Inside Malakai’s soul was the essence of the Oracle and as a result, I am now a chimera made up of three: the Oracle, Malakai, and Balthazar. My name now is Borkai.”

  Borkai attacked another of the soldiers of Mérdmerén’s guard. With his claws, he gouged out his eyes, pierced his chest, and tore out his heart which he ate with gusto, opening his mouth like a snake that can unhinge its jaws.

  “I have pure malice within me,” Borkai said as he chewed. They could see in his face that there was a terrible conflict in his soul. It was obvious that a part of him wished to kill the guard while the other part had no desire to.

  “Malakai was created using Mórgomiel’s armbands. That means that the power of the God of Chaos has been fractionally diluted, enough to mean that the loss can be made good. Argh!”

  Once again, Borkai’s claws lashed out and seized another soldier by the shoulders. He engulfed the soldier’s head in his mouth and bit it off. The soldier’s dead body fell to the ground, gushing blood from its severed neck. There were only five guards left, and soon, if something did not change rapidly, Mérdmerén would end up in the chimera’s mouth as well.

  “Through the Oracle’s essence, I have learned that using the scabbard of Wrath the Godslayer, his fearful sword, Mórgomiel has created Paladin, another demon who is helping Mórgomiel to control his armies. He is his most valuable general. You must stop him with a powerful spell, then destroy him with magic to deprive Mórgomiel of another of his pieces. No—Noooo!” Borkai had to fling his arms around himself to not attack again.

  “If I don’t leave soon, I’ll begin to wreak havoc. I’m too powerful. I must isolate myself and keep Mórgomiel’s pieces hidden so that he never regains them. Before I leave for the Interim and go far from this planet, I have a message for you, Mérdmerén of the Kings.

  “You must find Nordost. You carry the Dagger of Stern, made from one of his scales. Nordost fought during the Times of Chaos when Mórgomiel first emerged to claim the universe for himself. But he was defeated by the Summoning of the Five Essences with the help of Nordost and his rider.

  “This rider was the Metal Knight, but he was eliminated by Mórgomiel during the Times of Chaos. You must find Nordost. Don’t delay. Carry the Dagger of Stern with you and that will be the key.”

  “Hang on! And how the hell do I find Nordost? Tell me, damn it!”

  “Only a dragon can find another dragon. In this case, I’ve brought you help. After the murder of his goddess, this dragon has finally made his decision.”

  At that moment, a powerful bray echoed in the sky, followed by the rush of magnificent wings.

  “Mégalath has joined the war!” Borkai said joyfully before he doubled up in pain. “Go up to the highest roof and he’ll recognize you! I must go, my dear friend! This is a final goodbye! I’m no longer the Wild Man you knew! Now I’ll stay trapped in this chimera for all eternity. Argh!” With these words, Borkai vanished and then the floor, previously magma, solidified again. On it, all that was left were the remains of those soldiers who had been burnt to ashes and the two bodies mutilated by Borkai.

  However sad and desolate Mérdmerén might feel about the loss of Balthazar, he knew that the powerful shaman had not left without a well thought out plan. The mention of the murder of the Goddess of Night left him wondering. This did not bode well.

  The soldiers who were still on their feet defending their king were exhausted. The physical torture of seeing their colleagues reduced to ashes, plus the added confusion produced by Borkai’s appearance, had left them terrified. They had not understood a word of what had gone on between the creature which had defeated the wraith and Mérdmerén, although they could hardly have missed the mention of a dragon and a dead goddess.

  A cosmic battle was being fought above Háztatlon and the clangor of claws and the shrieking of the dragons were causing thunder beyond anything that had been heard before.

  “There’s no time!” Mérdmerén shouted, following the instructions of his now-consumed friend from the Wild Lands. “To the roof!” It can’t be. Balthazar. Innominatus. Tzargorg… defeated?

  He ran as though a demon were at his heels so that the royal guard could barely catch up with him.

  When he reached the roof of the palace’s highest tower, what he saw left him marveling. He had never seen the Dragon of Chaos this close, still less Mórgomiel himself. The creature of smoke was long and sinuous, horrifying and stormy, with threatening jaws and eyes so red that they seemed to represent the incandescence of hell. Meanwhile, on his back there rode a being that glittered with malice, wielding a sword in one hand the other commanding dark magic arts that could be seen in the form of spirals and vortexes. The clear early evening sky was filled by two dragons, energy and magic, and a host of four-winged flying beings, each carrying a black-skinned rider. The riders were creatures he had never seen before with long, square faces. What the devil was happening?

  The towers of the palace had been taken by a surprise attack. The catapults and the great crossbows had been burnt, together with the watchmen who had been defending their posts. The palace was completely unprotected. It had never had to deal with an airborne enemy and the advantage the winged beings had was causing enormous losses. The city was under fire at several points and the citizens were running desperate
ly to get away from that cosmic battle. Those who fled, Mérdmerén saw in horror, were soon caught by the flying creatures and their riders who speared them with long black arrows launched from bows of the same color.

  In front of the Dragon of Chaos was another dragon, three times the size of the beast of shadows. It was so large that it seemed to fill the whole sky. It was as though a mountain were in flight. Its body was well-rounded, so the creature was not ill-nourished. Its wings were magnificent and caused clouds of smoke to flurry about it with each beat and shaking off the dust. From its gigantic jaws poured incandescent fire, while from its claws came spells of beautiful colors, spirals, and shafts of energy that countered the evil spells of its opponent.

  With a sudden turn, Mégalath went for Mérdmerén, as if it had felt his presence. In a matter of seconds, those gigantic claws came down and with a gentleness ill-suited to the grey dragon’s size, it picked the king up and whisked him into the air.

  The sovereign was terrified and wet his pants with fright. He felt he would shit them too on finding himself in a grip like that because the gigantic scaly paws were as tough as tanned leather. He was at the mercy of the magnificent beast, which could have easily torn him apart on the spot or dropped him on to the precipice so that he would be crushed against the ground. The light barely managed to penetrate the gaps between the beast’s fingers. He felt an acceleration and then, to his surprise, found himself seated on the immense dragon’s back, precisely on the joint between neck and body.

  From this perspective, he felt as though he were sitting on top of a grey mountain so high that it seemed to be floating. In front of him was the beast’s sinuous neck that moved up and down with every beat of its wings. Mérdmerén could not feel either the wind or the dizziness of rapid movement, or headlong descent.

  “What the hell is going on?” the King of Mandrake shouted.

  “I’m Mégalath, Mérdmerén of the Kings! You are the bearer of the Dagger of Stern! I’ll explain the details of this fortuitous union of ours. For the moment, I need one thing from you.”

  “Huh?”

  “Plunge the Dagger of Stern into my flesh!”

  “Are you raving mad?”

  “Do it!”

  When Mérdmerén realized that the dragon was not speaking aloud but communicating directly with his mind, he was astonished. He could not understand how he was even managing to stay in his place when there was neither saddle nor cinch to hold him. Surely it had to be through some kind of magic. When he saw that the Dragon of Chaos was coming at him to attack and that on his back was the powerful god of the same name, he did not hesitate to do as he was told. He unsheathed the Dagger of Stern and buried it in the flesh of his mount.

  Immediately, he noticed the changes in Mégalath. His skin, which before had been rough and full of hard grey scales, began to be covered with a cloak of silvery metal. Even his snout was now being covered by a gigantic helmet that fitted around his jaws to perfection. From his claws came long barbs and his spells became more powerful. Mysteriously, even beneath where Mérdmerén was sitting, a covering of armor took shape without causing him the least discomfort.

  Mégalath’s attacks became furiously angry. From the expression on the snout of the Dragon of Chaos, Mérdmerén realized that it was beginning to feel the damage. The spells the Dragon of Chaos was casting barely managed to leave his claws since, in a matter of seconds, they were countered by a more powerful spell. He noticed that Mórgomiel was not at all pleased about this, judging by how quickly he now began to move his arms.

  Mégalath advanced, landing a severe blow on Górgometh’s side. The bray of pain was deafening and for the first time during that surprise attack, the enemy hesitated. At once, the Amaranth that had traveled with Mórgomiel, those who had not been brought down by crossbows, began to retreat toward a black vortex floating in mid-sky from which they had emerged.

  “You vile serpent,” Mórgomiel howled. “You dare to challenge me to a duel to the death! The next time will mean your defeat!” With these words, the God of Chaos too vanished into the vortex.

  “You can take the Dagger out now,” came Mégalath’s hoarse voice. “We’ve won the battle.”

  Mérdmerén withdrew the claw from the beast’s flesh and instantly, all the magic that had covered his body with metal vanished.

  “That was delightful,” the dragon said. “That damn traitor! I should never have made a deal with the bastard. And now he’s killed my goddess. We didn’t always agree, but that was no reason to wish her dead. Oh, D’Santhes Nathor. I should always have suspected Mórgomiel would betray us.”

  Mérdmerén did not know what he was talking about, but something told him he would find out soon enough.

  “Organize a regent for yourself, King of Mandrake,” Mégalath said. “We’re going to go for a run in the River of Time in search of Nordost. We need to find him as soon as possible. The Times of Chaos won’t wait for us. By the dead Gods, if it hadn’t been for Borkai, I’d never have arrived in time. This is too much. We’ve got to act at once.”

  Mégalath landed in the middle of the city. The damage he caused to property was mitigated to some extent by the awe of the people. His body covered a third of Háztatlon, and to avoid stepping on anybody or anything, each of his legs landed on a street, square, or park. His enormous tail extended beyond the city limits and nobody dared touch it for fear of being chewed up by the creature.

  The humans, of course, moved away to allow that gigantic body to sit on the city without anyone being crushed to death. The event would be a historic one, and Mégalath would be forever revered as a hero. Nobody in this world, except for a very few, had ever seen a dragon. Seeing him represented a miracle for some, an abomination for others. If anybody ever doubted that a gigantic war would break out against the Meridian and its people, a battle on a cosmic scale had just taken place over their heads and the fact was now very clear.

  Mérdmerén dismounted from the dragon thanks to the gigantic claw which assisted him to the ground. His soldiers, colleagues, and citizens watched their king descend from the magnificent beast. It was clear: the king had led the dragon that had defeated the beast of the shadows, changing his name from Mérdmerén of the Kings to Mérdmerén Dragonrider. The sovereign could not stop to receive the many compliments from his subjects. He hastened to the palace, where the first thing he did was to organize an emergency meeting with the Baron.

  Meanwhile, in the city, the surviving citizens had barely recovered from the attack and were beginning to realize that there were corpses of several foreign creatures everywhere.

  The winged creatures had eight legs and four wings and looked like giant dragonflies. Their riders were beings with two arms and two legs, but their skin was black. Their heads had three eyes and their skulls were long and square. The poorest and most opportunistic wasted no time in chopping up the bodies. The wings of the flying creatures could be sold at a good price, and that meat (someone was sure to say) could be delicious when it was roasted. Nothing was wasted and of course, shamans and healers soon began experimenting with the creature’s organs to create new potions.

  Chapter XXIX — Expectations

  “Of course, the Dungeon of Thieves supports you with all its resources,” the Faceless Baron said from the shadows. Today no-one was representing him at the round table, as the meeting had been an emergency one.

  “This news you’ve brought is serious. There’s news that horrifies me and developments that gladden me. Things aren’t going the way we’d planned, Mérdmerén. Mórgomiel’s reactions towards us have been very different. The fact that he’s launched a premature attack worries me because it shows that he has informants everywhere. They almost left us buried under the rubble with this surprise attack. I’m alarmed that the plan to summon other legions is going so slowly. The Interworld Committee has only managed to send us one legion of giant crystals.”

  “I know. They’re very odd creatures. Thank the Gods they’re pea
ceful and obey without complaint. Sokomonoko managed to move them to the land we’d promised them, although we haven’t managed to communicate with them in any way, as we haven’t got any more seraphs.”

  The Baron said nothing, seeming to be aware of the black cloud of emotions floating around his friend.

  “Are you sure it was Balthazar?”

  “He confirmed it himself,” Mérdmerén replied. “His eyes, his face, were unmistakable. It’s true: we’ve lost one of our most powerful allies. The most powerful, in fact.”

  The silence became heavy with both of them allowing an interlude of mourning, even if it only lasted a few minutes.

  “Do you know, Balthazar told me something that impressed me. He said that within his soul he carried two pieces of Mórgomiel’s armor, his armbands. He also mentioned that when he defeated Malakai and absorbed his soul, the Oracle’s essence was inside the dark sorcerer. He told me I have to find Nordost. And he brought us Mégalath! A colossal dragon!”

  “My informants have confirmed this. The great dragon fought hard against the God of Chaos. So Mórgomiel has lost some strength and we’ve lost one of our most valuable soldiers. Tell me more about Mégalath. You say Balthazar summoned him?”

  Mérdmerén explained what little he knew about Mégalath, all learned from Balthazar, who had told him that the Goddess of Night’s dragon had agreed to join the defense of Light after the murder of his goddess. He knew nothing more about Mégalath, but he suspected it had something to do with revenge. He also told the Baron what little he knew about Nordost and that if anyone knew a way of finding him, it was another dragon and the fact that now they had one was no coincidence. Balthazar had made sure to summon him at the right moment.