Do it, resist the temptation to unleash your fury on me. But you know I’m right. The humans have managed to give you a good thrashing. You’re a disgrace. And me? I was human too, and I’m hurting you too. You’re incompetent. Ungrateful. Inadequate. Incapable. You’re going to lose this war. The humans are going to send you back to the rubble you crawled out of.
Górgometh landed. He unleashed his fury and frustration by chewing a couple of guards and tearing another to pieces, then took flight and went to wreak havoc. Mórgomiel was left alone, contemplating the army of thousands that were gathering in the distance, occupying all the land around the city.
I will not tolerate your lack of respect, Argbralius! the God of Chaos thought.
Respect? Do you think you deserve it when the humans have proved you’re nothing but ashes and misery? You don’t deserve the throne, you don’t deserve to conquer the universe. Incompetent. Ungrateful. Useless.
Don’t make me angry!
Or else what? What are you going to do to me? You know I’m right, and that’s why you’re angry. Balthazar took two pieces from you and consumed Malakai, and now you have no-one to spy on that bitch Luciella, another human who’s looking for Alac. You can see she’s humiliating you, too. You’re a complete failure.
The spy has been sent, and he’s going to join her group. He will have direct access to me. Now stop insulting me, you scum!
Argbralius attacked afresh. And? Are you going to you kill me? There’s nothing else you can take away from me. I’m your worst enemy, your best friend, your nemesis, your brother. I am you! Now then, at least there’s something you managed—you sent your spy in time. You know it won’t be enough to defeat the ones who are blocking your way to the throne of the universe. Balthazar must be found. You need to get the pieces of your armor back because without them, you’re weak and beings like Mégalath can hurt you. Then you need to regain the respect of the bastards who did this to you. The Meridian is rejoicing. Too many eyes have seen that you can be beaten in the right circumstances. This can’t go on. You have to take your revenge. You have to do it. You have to show the world of the Meridian who’s in charge.
Mórgomiel knew that Argbralius was right. He was silent for a moment, then he thought, Balthazar is going to pay, you can be sure of that. We’ll hit him where it hurts him most. We’ll destroy that damned Wild Land of Devnóngaron. I’ll make sure terror rules in the Meridian. I’ll kill all his loved ones, bring them back from death, animate them with evil spirits, and then force them to hack the people they loved best when they were alive to pieces. I’ll turn that accursed fertile land of my planet—my planet—into an inhospitable rock with neither life, vegetation, nor animals. I’ll destroy everything and let them know who I am and who they’re up against. That will teach them a lesson.
But it’s more than just teaching them a lesson, Mórgomiel, Argbralius thought. It’s also a question of stopping them from building up their armies so that they don’t keep causing us losses.
You’re right, Mórgomiel thought. I’ll attack every planet Balthazar visited and stop the enemy legions from migrating to the Meridian. Meanwhile, I need to find that accursed Balthazar and get back the pieces of my armor. Without them, I’m incomplete. He has my armbands, so that means there’s a part of my essence in his soul. That means that I can communicate with him, I can torment him, I can turn him into one of our most powerful allies. He’s a chimera, two-thirds good, and the rest pure malice. By feeding him more evil I’ll make him into one of our own. He can still be useful, this Balthazar.
Now you’re talking. That’s the Mórgomiel I know, the cruel and infinitely evil one who took over my body and soul. It’s a plan of genius. You might even force Balthazar to go back to the Meridian, attack his sacred land, destroy Devnóngaron, and reduce his loved ones to ashes. Next, we’ll feed his soul with pure malice. If you could get Paladin to combine with Borkai, he’d be the perfect soldier.
He’d be too powerful, Mórgomiel countered. He’d have three of my pieces: my armbands and the scabbard of Wrath. But I could still control it. It’s a wonderful idea!
Very well then, Mórgomiel. You’re wise to listen to me. Let the rule of terror begin. I hope your spy manages to join that bitch’s group. We need to find Alac the moment they do, then we’ll be able to step in. If they manage to wake him, we’ll have a rival who could destroy us, particularly if you’re still missing some of the pieces. We can’t allow that.
We’re not going to allow it, human. Let Chaos begin. Let death, suffering, and terror unfold. That’s the price humans are going to pay for having made me angry.
Mórgomiel’s eyes turned incandescent with malice as he toyed with the pommel of Wrath the Godslayer.
Górgometh gave a ghastly grin when he heard the plan of attack, already savoring the destruction it would bring.
Chapter XXXVI — The Fire of Yoshto
“We’ve arrived early,” Absturlén said when he had landed.
“Get down, man,” Lolopantos said to Merkas, who seemed reluctant to get off him. “Or do you think I enjoy having you sitting on my back?”
“And the same for you!” Yamilal howled. “Get off my back! I did you a favor! Now kindly have the courtesy to dismount!” The pegasuses were about to turn violent in their rage.
“Easy, friends,” Perófias put in. “These barbarians have never ridden on nobility like us. They’ve no way of knowing how much it troubles us.”
“That’s not true,” Absturlén said angrily. “This straw-hair here—” Merkas. “—was digging his heels into my sides when he wanted to go faster. Twice, he pulled at my face and hair. He’s a disgrace. I’d like to see what he’d do if it were me riding him and pulling his face and hair. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, little man? Let’s see.” He walked over to Merkas and pulled his hair with his teeth, then spat on the ground.
Merkas raised his hands and showed his palms. “I didn’t mean to offend anybody,” he said. He had submitted as quickly as he could because a fight with these winged horses would be hell.
“Well then,” Lolopantos said. “The next time someone invites you to ride on their back, be respectful! Ugh! I’m happy to have got this mission over. Can we leave?”
The leader, Perófias, went up to Elgahar. “We’re at the edge of the possessed forest, whose name is Ashk’shaala. Inside, you’ll find the fairy Amana who will grant you the gift of Yoshto. Good luck! We’re off. The Yundal love pegasus flesh and we’re not going to let them eat another of our people. Let’s take wing!”
That being said, the pegasus vanished among the clouds, leaving the travelers exposed to a savage land of dangerous and irregular gorges. Elgahar surveyed the forest in front of him. It was impressively thick, so much so that the eye could not see further than ten strides or so. After that was a dark mist. There were no birds or any of the other animals typical of a forest. The trees were tall, old, and furious. Tired? They seemed to have beards and numerous folds in their bark as if the trees had created more protection around themselves. Protection against what?
Elgahar noticed that Unna was scanning the place, using her refined Wild senses to get to know the forest. “This place is dangerous,” the Wild Woman said. “The earth here is corrupted, I can feel it. Mother wouldn’t be happy with this. No, this place isn’t good.” Her gaze pierced the forest as if she could see inside it and feel its dangers.
I feel it too, the Naevas Aedán said in Elgahar’s mind. This place is full of malice. We need to be very careful.
“I knew it was a bad idea to help the Catalgar,” muttered Elgahar. It was too late to turn back, and he knew it, and that was what was annoying him most. Khad’Un, Amon Ras, and Chirllp were looking around fearfully. They had drawn their weapons and were ready for conflict.
“There’s too much silence here!” Khad’Un protested, clutching his double-edged ax. “I don’t like it at all!”
“Well then, keep quiet and don’t give our position away to the en
emy!” Merkas growled.
“I’m sleepy,” Turi said. Although he was as frightened as the others, he felt as though he had been awake for several days. The strange thing was that the daylight was still bright, and it seemed to be no later than three in the afternoon.
“I miss my bed too,” Funia added. “The days here are very odd. They seem to last an eternity.”
“That’s true,” Elgahar agreed. “The days here are long. In the Meridian, by now a day and a half would have gone by and here, it’s barely half a day. These delays never occurred to me. It makes sense for the days to be shorter or longer in different worlds. Here, the days are too long. We’re starved of sleep.”
They heard the sound of the goats’ hooves in the distance. They all got to their feet when they saw the river of huge he-goats galloping at top speed.
“Keep going!” A centurion shouted at them. “You must never stop for more than a few minutes here! Keep going!”
The column of Catalgar moved on like an avalanche toward the dense mass of the forest. After them came Tagulumich the crystal, going as fast as they did. The Committee had no time to recover and at once, they followed the line of warriors, summoning up what reserves of energy they still had left. The Catalgar had reduced their speed so that the humans and the giant insect could catch up with them, otherwise, they would have lagged far behind.
Powerful wolf howls could be heard in the distance, sending a shiver down their spines. They had not gone far and yet the enemy seemed to have caught up with them. Perhaps the place was bewitched. Perhaps they had been seen through the Black Arts.
“They already know we’re here!” the Iptaan cried. “Hurry!” The pace picked up, and the humans found themselves running to the limits of their ability.
“Huargs in pursuit!” someone cried. There came a cry of terror followed by the unmistakable sound of torn flesh and wolves growling as they fought for food. The sound filled the Committee with horror.
“To arms! To arms!”
Chaos took over. In the shadows between the trees, several dark figures were moving swiftly and stealthily. The Huargs seemed to be running around them in circles at great speed to create confusion. The barking and howling were deafening.
The centurions and their squads of soldiers formed a circle around the Iptaan, who was brandishing his long and already-bloodied sword.
“Orx!” Saaldún shouted. “Show yourself once and for all!”
Turi was crouching behind a rock. “Tenchi! Tenchi!” he called. The Naevas Aedán came to the young man.
“Can you take me to Amana?”
Nobody noticed when Turi disappeared into the forest, silent as the wind and slipping through the enemy lines without being seen.
The Committee unsheathed their weapons and joined the protective circle around the Iptaan. The humans of the Committee were scared to death. The wolves were huge and those jaws looked as though they could chew iron. The Wild Woman was the only one who seemed to be enjoying it all, maneuvering her ax skillfully, eager for a fight. Perhaps she had already encountered beasts like these in Devnóngaron.
Elgahar swore under his breath. Something was going very wrong, and he could feel it. This mission should never have been delayed like this. Now his group was in danger of being chewed up and digested by a horde of furious Huargs. In a fury, he began a spell between his hands, gathering a sphere of blue energy. At the same time, he threw the fingers of his mind outwards, trying to perceive and understand why everything around him was so strange. Was it the forest? Or was there something abnormal around them?
“Iptaan,” came a cavernous voice from the shadows of the forest. The figure of a Huarg took shape in the distance. It was a silhouette, nothing more. “Saaldún the brave has come to avenge his people and regain the honor we took from him when we extinguished the fire in Faroos and ate his younger daughters. Ulrica was lucky. Maryi and Olbenda, not so much. Now things have taken a serious turn. Don’t be stupid. Lower your weapons and join the band of the Lord of Shadows. Fighting against his lordship, the God of Chaos is futile. Do it or die.”
“Never, Orx!” the Iptaan cried. “You’ll pay for what you’ve done!”
Elgahar’s mind was reeling. He could detect Black Arts in the Orx silhouette and the power the figure emanated was massive. Could Mórgomiel have got there before them? Could he be playing a trick on them? Did he have the ability to send his subjects to a distant world like this one? Maybe the Iptaan was right and one of the dark spirits, some vassal of Mórgomiel’s, had come to try to wipe out the Catalgar. Orx must be the one possessed and the Iptaan had suggested something like it at the castle.
Elgahar closed his eyes and entered his mind’s eye. From there, he began to see with his sixth sense. Like a needle worming its way through a pile of thread, he moved among the Huargs, studying each one of them. When he reached Orx, he saw many tentacles and trailing streams of shadow coming out of his body. Inside the Huarg, there had to be an evil spirit.
The spirit became aware of Elgahar’s sixth sense and gave a terrible shriek that left everyone petrified. Elgahar, startled, withdrew his mind’s eye, feeling the impact of the shriek after he discovered what Orx carried within him. He opened his eyes and turned pale. It was a wraith, but for hidden reasons it was not like all the other wandering spirits instead having far more aggressive powers. What on earth had taken up lodging in Orx’s body?
Elgahar was now deeply concerned. Mórgomiel’s reach, he concluded, was spreading faster than they were managing to summon legions and at this rate, they would never manage to convince enough soldiers.
“Mage!” Orx cried in a different voice. This was not the Huarg speaking but the evil spirit. “That human is using the Conjuring Arts! Attack! Destroy the mage!”
More than a hundred Huargs leapt to the attack. The Huarg called Orx began to change. Before, it had been a gigantic wolf on four legs but now it rose like a man wearing a cloak that covered his whole body. It certainly looked like a wraith, but there was far more power in it and far more control than would have been expected in a lost spirit.
“Defend the mage!” the Iptaan cried. At once, the leader of the Catalgar leaped to the front of the battle, killing several Huargs with his long sword that he wielded with both hands.
The centurions moved forward beside their leader while, around Elgahar, the other humans battled to the death. The gigantic insect Ushka fought fiercely, nimbly wielding two short swords and using his jaws to amputate limbs. Tagulumich showed his prowess in battle with dozens of filaments flying swiftly in different directions, causing deep wounds in rapid succession. In addition to this, the crystal seemed untouchable since he could not be harmed by the bites of the wolves.
Elgahar went back to his mind’s eye where he was able to see the evil spirit for what it was. Obviously, it had been human, but now his soul was fused with that of a powerful demon. Blue energy formed within the mage’s hands and with a sudden outburst, more than twenty lightning-bolts were hurled from the sphere, each one finding its target in a Huarg. The wolves touched by the spell fell charred, their insides boiling in such a way that bubbles issued through the wounds in their skin. The mage launched another powerful bolt, killing ten more Huargs.
“Kill the mage!” the evil spirit howled as it floated toward the line of defense. The vorwraith touched two Catalgar with the shadowy tentacles that extended from his face and at once, the he-goats suffered violent spasms that fractured every bone in their bodies. They fell to the ground like corpses dried by a scorching sun, their essence robbed by the demon’s touch. The creature, seeming to feed and grow in size, returned to the attack. The Committee moved as far away from the vorwraith as they could, creating a vulnerable gap in their line of defense that was quickly taken advantage of by the Huargs.
“For my family!” the Iptaan cried. He did not seem to be thinking, for wrath had robbed him of his reason. The leader of the Catalgar was blind with the fury of revenge and galloped at full spee
d to attack the evil spirit. The long sword came down on the vorwraith.
A powerful shriek filled the atmosphere, so high and horrifying that even the Huargs stopped fighting. The Iptaan was petrified when his sword seemed to be trapped in the shadow. The leader sighed as he realized he could not move, then grew uneasy when he could not distance himself from his opponent. He began to shiver with fear. The demon’s tentacles moved forward. Instead of touching the Iptaan to suck out his soul, they crawled into every hole of his body: ears, eyes, and mouth. The he-goat started to convulse until the shadow had entered him completely.
“Iptaan!” the centurions yelled and did their best to prevent the inevitable transformation of their leader. Elgahar was left breathless by the sight.
The centurions were unable to attack their leader and, with tears in their eyes, they could only watch him as he was turned into an incarnation from hell. One by one those powerful he-goats were destroyed by the powerful bites of several Huargs who had arrived to finish the job. The centurions were being cut to pieces and torn to shreds, their blood flowing in streams of suffering. The fall of their leader seemed to have been a trick to defeat the Catalgar and now they were easy prey for the wolves who were enjoying the carnage and eating at their leisure.
When the vorwraith possessed the body of the Iptaan, it gave a powerful croak. Flames erupted from its head while pure malice shone in its eyes. The Iptaan’s long sword turned red.
“Protect the mage!” Ekimidos shouted. He and another centurion were the only captains who had survived until now, along with three other soldiers. Of the original hundred, only five Catalgar were left.
Elgahar launched a powerful lightning bolt against the demon. The creature did not even flinch. He redoubled his efforts, creating a radiant spiral of energy that flew at great speed toward the demon. The spiral chopped many trees in its way and cut Huargs in half as it went through them. The demon created a counterspell and dissolved the spiral easily.
Necromancer’s Sorrow: (Series Finale) Page 29
