Necromancer’s Sorrow: (Series Finale)

by Pablo Andrés Wunderlich Padilla

  “Centaurs! Forward!” The ring expanded again. Leandro felt hope return on gallant wings. At last, he felt they were regaining enough land to win this fight. The horizon was still full of orcs. Although several thousand were on their backs and dying before the advance of the centaurs, another million were waiting to hurl themselves eagerly on them.

  Exhaustion caught up with the general the moment he relaxed. Dizzy and nauseous, he was forced to dismount and allow the centaurs to lead this part of the battle.

  “Sir!” Mondragón called. “Bread and water! Eat and drink!”

  The general fell to his knees and sat down in the bloodied mud where the large crates the centaurs had brought were filled with bread and bags of liquid which the men drank from with their hands. By now, the water was grey with dirt, but at this point, the General was ready to drink whatever there was. Dehydrated to the point of danger, he felt he would die if he did not have something to drink. Valímidos, other centurions, Janikur, Tenos and Rigobert, Sendar, Ítalshin, Uroquiel, Lombardo, and another hundred soldiers were eating as if it were the last time they would see any food. It was not far from the truth.

  The bread filled their stomachs, and with their hunger sated and their thirst quenched, the leaders of the armies returned to lead the war. At last, there was time to create an infirmary in the field surrounding the Portal where those wounded by the orcs were being looked after. By good luck or ill-fortune, there were not many wounded since those who had fallen during the initial attack had been quickly eliminated by those creatures.

  Leandro took stock of the situation as soon as he could rest his back against the platform, sitting on a mass of blood and bodies. Nothing was more important than resting for at least a moment.

  Haziiz Farçia of the Divine Providence and his legion had been among the first to fall when the attackers had emerged from the Portal. The men from Grizna had fallen, ten thousand of them, and all the Torok had been destroyed. He thought he could see that the Catalgar still had some soldiers left, as did the crystals and the Dakatak. Düll Donn and Othus were eating hurriedly, joking about how someone had killed somebody else. It was not the moment for jokes, but Leandro supposed that everyone processed reality in his own way.

  The men of Doolm-Ondor had shown their skill in war. Because of their small size and powerful limbs, they had been the most efficient soldiers when it came to bringing down the orcs, who had not expected an attack at leg-level.

  The soldiers of iron and stone from Moragald’Burg were still showing strength and unbroken morale. Lohrén and a hundred elves were still standing, but most of them looked downcast and depressed. They had good reason, as very few of their ten thousand were left. Janikur the Brave had befriended the elves and was trying to comfort them over their loss. He was aware that some of those who had died had been alive for thousands of years.

  The Mandrakian army was the one that had suffered the most until now, having been the most numerous and made up most of the rings of defense around the Portal. The majority of the dukes had died except for Rigobert and Tenos. The armies of the cities had been reduced to mere remnants, and there only remained a handful of soldiers from each of the cities and several dozen out of the thousands of soldiers of the Imperial Army. The cavalry had originally consisted of three hundred riders. Now, only fifty or so remained.

  The space to treat the wounded, eat, drink, and rest allowed the soldiers of every species and world to consider the facts. It did not matter if they were Catalgar, monolith, human, elf, or insect; they were all mourning for their dead.

  Leandro heard an explosion that brought him out of his meditations at once. Fearful and open-mouthed, he looked up at the sky. His eyes widened and his body shuddered. This could not be good.

  In the sky, two bright dots could be seen shining. Before he could sound the alarm, two portals appeared in the heights. From them came a stream of winged creatures.

  They were phantasmagorical, undoubtedly from another world. They had four wings like a dragonfly, eight legs like a spider, and fearsome jaws like those of insects. Leandro could not avoid wondering whether there might be some relationship between the insects and those flying beings like shared a common ancestor. But it hardly mattered as disaster unleashed again when the flying beings descended upon the defense.

  The three hundred thousand centaurs were keeping the defensive rings in perfect shape. When the winged beings, some hundred thousand, fell upon them, the first line of defense broke. The orcs advanced once more and the bloodbath continued.

  “Mages!”

  There were many archers but very few arrows. Those who could, set to work. The winged beings, Leandro noticed, were ridden by the beings that had first attacked the portal, the ones with square heads and three vertical eyes. The flying arachnids came down on the archers, capturing them with their eight legs and carrying them through the air. Leandro was disturbed to see that those flying creatures enveloped their prey in thick silk as a spider would and then injected them with a liquid and devoured them.

  The terror caused by the flying arachnids disturbed even the centaurs, who, although heavier than humans, were still captured and carried off into the sky.

  Nordost played a major role in protecting the defenders against the flying arachnids. With his claws, he crushed any of the creatures that came within his reach while his tail beat another handful of them. With his magic and the fire of his breath, he overmastered another hundred every second. But the flying creatures kept coming out of the portal, and the sky was filled with a swarm of winged arachnids.

  “Now!” Leandro heard someone shout. The general leaped to his feet, recovering from his tiredness, and was just in time to see Elgahar receive the energies of Sendar, Ítalshin, and Uroquiel. From his hands shot lightning bolts that, like the branches of a tree, forked many times, each branch scorching several flying raptors. The echo and blast of the spell caused many to hesitate, then fall to the ground. There, the soldiers killed them easily. Another bolt and then another discharged from Elgahar’s hands, reducing the numbers of the flying creatures. The corpses of the arachnids fell far away and on the sea of orcs for the most part, but now and then they also fell among the ranks of the defenders. More than one of them was crushed to death.

  Leandro felt useless. He noticed that among the rings of the centaur defense was the rest of the army that had begun the fight, thousands of soldiers from different cultures. Most had recovered and they were fighting as best they could against the arachnids.

  “More flying creatures!” Mondragón cried, looking towards the west. It was true: a cloud of winged beings was approaching across the entire horizon.

  To the west of the Fields of Flora was the cliff along which ran the Path of the Fallen. Thousands of leagues to the west, the Mandrake Empire bordered Devnóngaron. Leandro regretted the fact that he had not thought properly about the geographical location of the Portal of the Worlds. The intention had always been to build the platform at the center of the Fields of Flora, a long way from the cliff, mountains, and Kathanas. This was so that when the allied armies appeared, they would have enough space to spread themselves. But because it was on an open area of flat land, it was easily attacked on all sides.

  The cloud of winged beings was close. They had red scales, large wings, and were without riders. They were croaking loudly. They were red wyverns! But how had they arrived just like that? Did they not have riders to direct them? He remembered that during the Battle of Háztatlon, Balthazar had said that the red wyvern had come by Mother’s grace. But the shaman was not there to create spells. What on earth was going on?

  War broke out in the sky. The wyverns attacked aggressively, bringing down the front of arachnids that had tried to stop their advance. Nordost began to clear the sky of arachnids, taking advantage of the fact that they were distracted by the arrival of the wyverns.

  Thousands of them were descending on the orcs and it allowed the centaurs to spread out their lines of defense once more.


  Leandro saw everything very clearly. He needed to divide the sea of orcs and gather them all on one side instead of being surrounded by them on all flanks.

  Before he could turn thought into action, he scanned the western cliff and saw a hundred or so orcs fall off and smash their heads open on the Fields of Flora. What was this? Leandro watched the orcs being pushed over the cliff by their brethren as if a giant hand was leading them to the cliff. Thousands were falling off every second. The cliff became a hecatomb. Nordost, quick to act, came down with a jet of fire that incinerated the mountain of bodies. This created a furnace that consumed both the orcs in the field and those who continued to fall. What the hell was pushing them to the cliff from the western mountains?

  Toward the north-east and Kathanas, a mass of orcs was fleeing. His army began to mobilize like quicksand, but only in the north-west, running southeastwards as if something gigantic had appeared over there. What the heck?

  The orcs stopped falling off the cliff, and at the edge of the mountain, Leandro saw a line of Wild Men with their faces covered in blood. The line stretched all along the Path of the Fallen. It seemed that Mother had sent her children to the battle after all!

  From the north-west, they could hear war cries and the defenders, in astonishment, watched a wall of Wild Men advancing ruthlessly. Why were the orcs fleeing? How was it that they were not putting up any resistance?

  Leandro saw the answer. Thousands of Devonic Shepherds were chasing the orcs and tearing them to pieces when they caught up with them. They were dog-like creatures with the ability to bring down a wyvern. They were so big that on four legs, they reached to a man’s chest, and far higher than that on two, as well as having jaws as large as a horse’s head. There were thousands of these enormous canids! Was it true? Were the orcs terrified? They were not afraid of a dragon, yet they were of a giant dog? Leandro took advantage of the momentum that was propelling the Wild Men and saw that they were forcing all the orcs to gather at the south.

  “Valímidos!” the general cried. “Janikur! Lohrén! Düll Donn! Othus! Mondragón! Gelkak! Ostherlan!” The leaders joined him and listened. “Look! The Wild Men have come with their hunting dogs! They’re pushing the orcs to the south! Let’s seize our chance and crush their army once and for all!”

  “And those flying red things are from the wildlands too?” Valímidos asked.

  “They’re red wyverns of Devnóngaron. Come on, move!” There was no time to explain the origin of the wyverns, Leandro had forgotten that his foreign comrades had presumably never seen one before.

  The rings of defense opened to let through the hundred thousand soldiers, who surged across like a well-aimed spear. The orcs on the western side were running for their lives, and the flank had been left free and unprotected. The hundred thousand soldiers joined the army of a hundred thousand Wild Men, all of them running to defeat the orcs. Two hundred thousand defenders formed themselves into a wall made from several lines of defense and moved south, pushing the mass of orcs before them in the same direction.

  The orcs to the north and northeast panicked. When their lines broke, the centaurs pushed them north and cornered them against Kathanas. The elimination of the orcs in that area was simple. Those to the east and south-east, panic-stricken, ran southwards, all following the horde that was already fleeing in the same direction.

  The strategy was working impressively. The orcs were terrible soldiers. For all their strength, they completely lacked discipline. When a handful of them panicked, the rest were infected in the same way. The millions upon millions of orcs had been pushed to the south, and now they were reorganizing themselves to attack from the south-east, south-west, and south.

  Leandro shed tears as he realized that they had survived the attack of the orcs. Thanks to the union between cultures and species, they had managed to divide and isolate the sea of attackers into a single flank. In this way, the defense would now be so much easier and would allow the rearguard to rest. This was possible because they had made use of the surrounding geography.

  He knew that this must have been how men had won the Battle of Maúralgum in the Fields of Flora four hundred years before. This was why Kathanas had been built exactly where it was. And at last, the defending army was winning. If he were Mórgomiel and his generals he would not be happy with this state of affairs. It showed both that the army of evil was weak and disorganized, and that evil had underestimated them.

  Elgahar turned to look at the mages. “Cease fire,” he said. Sendar, Ítalshin, and Uroquiel were pale. He felt exhausted too. “Eat, drink and recover. I’m afraid this small victory will anger Mórgomiel, and he’ll redouble his efforts.” The mages lay down on the red mud, not caring whether they were smeared with the blood of thousands upon thousands. They needed to rest and be prepared for the next wave of terror.

  Slightly fewer than three hundred thousand centaurs formed an impenetrable wall of torsos and chests, supported from behind by Leandro and the united armies.

  It was noon, their shadows directly under their feet. The ground was a mire of blood, and anyone careless tended to slip and fall among the accumulated corpses of orcs, humans, Catalgar, insects, and others. In the sky, the battle between the airborne creatures was tilting in favor of the defenders. The arachnids were falling by the thousand every minute thanks to the coordinated attack by Nordost and the wyverns.

  The defending army did not move even ten paces away from the Portal as the rearguard had to be protected. If the Portal were to be used against them, it would cause serious trouble.

  Leandro reached the mage on horseback. “Elgahar! Elgahar!” he called. He did not dismount, speaking from the saddle.

  “Sir?”

  “Can you close the Portal?”

  “You’re afraid of an attack from the rear? It might happen, sir, but it would be suicide to close it.”

  “Why?” the general shouted amid the battle.

  “Because Luchy hasn’t come back! We saw her in Terigión! She must be very close to her goal! If we shut down the Portal, she’ll never come back with the God of Light!”

  The general’s eyes widened. The mage was right. He needed to be patient and accept the risk of being attacked from behind if Mórgomiel thought of sending another army through the vortex.

  “Sir!” Mondragón shouted. With him was a Wild Man who looked like a giant, two strides tall or more, with a huge chest and torso, gigantic legs, and long hair that hung in a braid down his back. On the golden-skinned man’s chest was a large tattoo that identified him as the Alpha of his clan.

  The commander led the Wild Man to the general. The giant’s head rose above that of the horse.

  “My name Marzgarg, leader of all Clans for first time. I same king.” He indicated toward his tattoo. “Unite to win. But from there—” he pointed to the west where they had come from, above the vertical wall of the cliff. “—come giant enemy that wakes dead and tries to kill Mother. Very bad. Very fierce. Help to win.” The giant’s threatening gaze was more expressive than his words.

  Leandro had to turn and look west. For the moment, nobody was coming from it.

  Nordost landed among them. The thrust he gave to balance himself so as not to fall and step on anyone sent a cyclone of wind, and even this caused a few people to fall backward.

  “The innumerable hosts of orcs have been divided into two,” the dragon said. “Many of them are trapped to the north between Kathanas and the other side, as well as to the south. The orcs of the west were cornered by the Wild Men and their dogs, but other terrors are on their way from over there.” He pointed west too. What on earth was on its way from there?

  The Metallic Knight jumped off his back and added, “The part of the orc army that split off to the north is fighting against Meromérila’s soldiers, the ones she sent to the Old World and came back. There are about a hundred thousand of them, but they’re favored by the geography there which doesn’t permit the orcs to surround them unlike what happ
ened to us here. To the west, as Nordost says, we’ve glimpsed a giant on his way. Behind him is a host of walking dead and he seems to have necromantic powers. Wherever he passes, the dead awakens and he adds them to his army.”

  “That demon kill many of my people,” Marzgarg said. He put his fist to his naked chest while in his other hand, he held his bloodied ax. “Enemy bad, very bad. Wake my friends from death, then they attack me.” He raised his chin so as not to weep as tears crystallized in his eyes.

  “I’ll deal with him,” the Metallic Knight said.

  “Between the two of us, we can defeat that enemy,” Nordost added.

  “Look at the sky!” someone shouted.

  Leandro felt a shiver run down his spine. The hair at the back of his neck rose and he could feel goosebumps along his arms under his armor.

  Elgahar, Mondragón, Marzgarg, Nordost, and the Metallic Knight looked up. In the distance, a violet vortex formed. It happened in less than a second. The next moment, a sinuous body emerged from it. On its back was a black rider.

  “Górgometh! Mórgomiel!” Nordost howled. He gave a powerful warcry in the form of a roar and the earth shook. Within the metallic dragon’s jaws, Leandro could see the line of his sharp teeth and the arches of his enormous throat.

  “To battle! Our nemesis has arrived! I’m sorry, my friends, but we can’t defend you against the demon who raises the dead! If we don’t attack Mórgomiel, he’ll wreak havoc that nothing will be able to remedy. To the heavens, my dear Nordost! We’re going into battle!”

  And with this, the Metallic Knight leaped onto the dragon’s back. Nordost, with a furious beat of his wings and extreme agility, shot up to the sky.

  In less than the blink of an eye, the clash of the titans began. The War of the Gods had started amid fury and hatred.