Necromancer’s Sorrow: (Series Finale)

by Pablo Andrés Wunderlich Padilla

  The journey south was a long one. Normally, it would have taken three weeks at a moderate pace, but it took them nearly a month and a half. Manchego seemed to be in a hurry to find out whether his grandmother was alive or dead, but at times he did not appear to feel the haste he spoke of. He did not seem to care whether they arrived immediately or months later. If Lulita had died, there was not much he could do about it anyway, so it made more sense to travel at a leisurely pace.

  It was something they needed. The two needed to go at a slower pace so that all that life, full of turns and drastic changes, could be properly grounded in them. Neither of them would be the same people again after so much violence and fighting. Only time would tell how they would adjust to each of the events that stayed with them on their journey. One thing was constant: they loved one another. As long as this reality endured, nothing else seemed to matter.

  After a month and a half of walking by night and resting by day, at last, the moors had become familiar. The landscape was becoming recognizable as they rode their horse towards their home. The Marsemayo Volcano was still surrounded by a cloud-like scarf, its structure like an immovable bulwark and seemingly unchanged by the terrible events that had so recently afflicted the world. The dense forests seemed full of activity and the animals were going back to their routines.

  Piles of orc corpses had been charred, which meant that someone had gathered the bodies together and set them on fire. They were on the outskirts of the village by now and could already see the western sentry-booth.

  Hope surged in the youngsters’ hearts at the sight of soldiers and villagers collecting bodies and piling them up. Some of them were burning with great gouts of flame. If there was one thing war brought it, was plagues and other illnesses. The most tedious part of it all was cleaning up the remains of the dead, both friends and enemies.

  The fact that there were men, women, soldiers, and young people doing this was a good sign. It was a sign that they had survived. It did not mean, that people like Lulita or Tomasa had come out of it alive, of course.

  They went up to the sentry box on their horse. Manchego greeted the soldiers and villagers with a slight nod. The soldiers in turn stopped to look closely at the traveler and his girl, trying to see whether they recognized him. The young rider’s gaze was steel-hard, and although his boy’s body was thin and without much strength, something in his gaze shone with enough energy to discourage almost any attacker and make him think twice about the risk of confronting anyone with a gaze like that.

  Passing the next sentry box, though it was charred to a crisp, was a pleasure for Manchego. He felt relieved. No matter how far you might travel, no matter how ruined a place might be, his home was his home and there was nothing like coming back to it. He sighed and felt a deep sense of relief.

  “Hi there, traveler!” someone said. It was an aged soldier covered in soot and mud. He was no longer wearing his full uniform, but enough of it was in the colors of the House of Don Dargos to make it clear that he answered to that particular baron.

  “Good day, friend!” Manchego said with a nod. Luchy looked at him with no particular interest.

  “What brings you to this place, young master? It’s a pigsty. We’re rebuilding the village again after a war that was fought here several years ago. Have you heard of the War of the Dead Tears?”

  “I’ve heard something about it,” Manchego said with a defiant smile.

  “Ah. Well, you see, young master, there was a far worse war than that fought here. There was an endless sea of orcs, I tell you. I don’t even know how we survived it. I thought I was already dead, buried under the mud and blood. But then a light seemed to shine and the orcs fled with their tail between their legs. Now here we are, rebuilding the village all over again.”

  The soldier was looking closely at Luchy. He seemed to recognize her, and his expression changed from smiling to respectful. “Is that you, Luchy? Our Luchy? The one who woke us up when we were in a trance when we closed the Cursed Pit?”

  Luchy said, “That’s me.”

  “Blessed be the God of Light! I’m so glad you’ve come back, Miss Buvarzo-Portacasa! Welcome back to your land.”

  The soldier turned to Manchego and said, “You, I don’t know, young master. Are you from around here too?”

  Manchego smiled and shrugged. He said, “I’m from wherever suits me the most. But I have roots in this village.” He chuckled to himself.

  “That’s good, young master. I hope you find what you’re looking for in this village. Many have died. And I hope you’ll take good care of this princess. Luchy is our heroine!”

  “Thank you, soldier. I promise I’ll look after Doña Luchy. I’ll give my life for her if necessary.”

  “Well now, I like that. Have a good day!” The soldier took his leave of them.

  Luchy smiled and hugged Manchego. Both of them giggled as they remembered how they used to sneak into the village for fun.

  The village was a complete mess but there was no sorrow. The people were working with a steady hand. Perhaps after so many attacks, the villagers of San San-Tera had learned to be stronger.

  They passed the other sentry box and followed the road that would lead them straight to the QuepeK’Baj Farm, or at least to what was left of it. Manchego was not expecting much. In fact, he did not expect anything. If Lulita had died, he would understand and weep for her but there was no room in his soul to stay stuck in the past. Life had to go on, and now he had a family to look after. Although that said, he hoped with all his heart that Lulita, Rufus, and Tomasa would still be alive.

  The farm was a fertile field that had been destroyed by the enemy. The orcs must have found a way to feed themselves at the farm’s expense and had destroyed the field on their path of destruction.

  Manchego’s heart began to beat hard. He felt the memories of his childhood and his teenage years invading his soul and heart. His mind was flooded with images of better days, but as he felt Luchy’s arms around his waist, he felt the safety and support he needed to accept what he would soon see.

  They crested a small hill and the horse went down the path to where the Ranch should be. That was when his spirits sank.

  His eyes filled with tears. His heart sank. His hands sweated and he felt sick, his face wet with unstoppable tears.

  He could not believe it. In the distance, the estate was blackened and burnt.

  But on what was left of the structure, two people were rebuilding what had once been. Both of them were golden-skinned.

  He dismounted and ran as fast as he could. A dog came out from behind the bushes and ran after him, barking furiously and chasing his master.

  Manchego stopped before her and fell on his knees. Lulita was on the ground, sitting with her head between her hands while her tears flowed like rivers.

  “My little one. My little one. It can’t be, my little one…”

  “Granny! I’m here! Granny!”

  And as if these were once again the days of yore, Manchego hugged her with all the light of his soul. Lulita was openly sobbing, shedding tears on the boy’s cotton shirt while Manchego poured his emotions on to his grandmother’s clothes.

  Luchy ran to them and hugged grandmother and grandson. It did not take long for Tomasa to pick up the feelings. The four of them, reunited at last, stayed locked together until they felt their arms going numb and there were no more tears left. Meanwhile, Rufus barked around them, circling around and around and whimpering with excitement. Manchego hugged the dog and scratched him behind the ears.

  This was a miracle. The best miracle of all time. He might have seen elves, traveled to Allündel, the River of Time, and Tempus Frontus, come to know dragons and ridden one, traveled to Carunthya, but nothing could compare with the miracle of that moment when you are united once more with your loved ones.

  Because this is all that matters in life. This was the reason why he had fought with all he had, why he had carried on the fight that, until the last moment, he
had thought impossible to win.

  That was why he had won.

  To come back home and see his family again, the most important reason for his existence.

  Epilogue

  Ten years later.

  Manchego woke with a start. He had been dreaming about magnificent beings with lights and intense explosions that culminated in a battle of cosmic proportions. But though he could not have explained those dreams he had had as a boy of thirteen, now that he was a man of twenty-eight, he could explain these later ones. He had lived through the battles and had won. Dreaming about those events did not bring him anything more than the pleasure of feeling that he had been successful in the enterprise entrusted him by the Beings of the Celestial Divinity.

  The Holy Comment Ranch began to thrive once more. The house was rebuilt by the family and it was where Lulita had died five years before in the comfort of her bed as she contemplated the sunset.

  She had not died alone. Her whole family, including two grandsons and two granddaughters, had been present at the moment of her death. At the time, Miomi, the youngest daughter, had only been a couple of months old. But at least she could say that her great-grandmother had known her. The children had also known the best of Rufus. The dog was far gone in years, but they had managed to play with him until one day, the dog was found at the observatory, breathing quickly.

  That sunrise had been hard on Manchego. He had never expected to find Rufus dying in that spiritual place. But he had known that the day would come, sooner or later, and he was grateful that he had been able to scratch his friend behind the ears during his last moments. It had been just as the sun came up and the first rays of coppery light had fallen on the world that Rufus had taken his last breath. It had been a deeply sad moment. The dog was buried at the observatory where he would be forever remembered by the people who had loved him.

  Manchego remembered Lulita every day. He had been sad to see her pass onto a better life, but at least he had been able to enjoy her company during her final years. Tomasa had not taken her death so well. The Wild Woman had gone back to Devnóngaron and come back a year later with a husband and a child. She asked to have her old job back, which Manchego had granted with pleasure. At the same time, he had offered the big woman’s husband a job. He was a non-dominant Beta male who had willingly agreed to work for the estate. Manchego had given Tomasa part of the land, a tenth to be exact, and had assured her that she had earned it with her hands and her sweat.

  He felt Luchy’s hand on his back. “Is it time?” she asked, yawning.

  Manchego came back to the present after remembering Lulita, Rufus, and Tomasa. It was still early with no trace of the sun as yet. There was nothing better than waking up beside Luchy.

  “The time’s come, my dear,” he said.

  “Give me a few moments. I’ll get Miomi and Laila.”

  “I’ll get Eín and Liam.”

  Liam would turn nine springs that day. Manchego had a special gift for him. He had been preparing it for nine long, incredible years.

  When they left the house, Liam and Eín ran off. After them shot Róganok, the new family dog they had adopted two years earlier. Róganok was a white mastiff who had appeared at the estate one day out of the blue. At his feet had been the body of a coyote that had tried to kill one of Manchego’s sheep. It was as if the mastiff had planned to leave his tribute to be accepted as a watchdog. On the day they had met, Manchego and the dog had formed that powerful link that exists between a human and a dog. The mastiff was white and when he grew angry, the hair on his back stood on end so that he looked like a dragon. The name Róganok suited him perfectly.

  The family of six watched the sunrise. Manchego and Luchy were leaning against the Great Pine on the observatory. The two older children, Liam and Eín, were being hugged by their daddy, Miomi and Laila by their mommy, and Róganok beside them, sitting on his hindquarters watching the phenomenon with his eyes closed as if he could feel the power of the sun’s rays.

  In the distance, a bell rang. They heard Tomasa’s voice. “Breakfast is ready!”

  “Scrambled eggs! Great!” cried Liam, the elder. Eín echoed him, imitating his elder brother’s gestures.

  “Liam, wait!” said Manchego. “Come and look. I’ve got something special for you. Today you turn nine springs, right?”

  Liam nodded, smiling broadly. If there was one thing he had learned, it was the date of his birthday because that was when he was given plenty of sweets and a special gift.

  “We’ll catch up with you in a moment. Liam and I are going to take a tour of the studio.”

  Manchego had built a small studio with his own hands, and here, he had begun a series of artistic projects. Eromes the Perpetuator might never have been his kin by blood, but he felt like he had inherited an urge to create something through art. He had tried drawing, painting, and cooking, and at last, he had found his passion: writing.

  Liam smiled. “This is your studio, dad.” How much he resembled Luchy. He had green eyes, dark skin like Manchego’s—though Liam’s was less dark—and black hair. He was going to be very handsome when he grew up, and he would surely break more than one heart.

  “Exactly. This is where I spend the evenings writing, telling a wonderful story.”

  “Your story! You never let me read it!”

  “That’s true!” Manchego said. “And that’s because I was saving the moment for today. Come with me. I’ll show you your present.”

  Liam stopped smiling at the sight of a large book on the table. He had expected to be given a shield and a sword, or some other toy of the kind he loved. But a book was not exactly what he had hoped for.

  “Is that it?” he asked, sounding disappointed.

  “That’s it. Here, take a seat.” Manchego knew that it might not have been the most anxiously-awaited present, but he was sure that, like any good present, it would grow precious as time went by. This gift would be eternal, it would never lose its value.

  “Open it.”

  Liam sat down. His head was not high enough, so Manchego put a cushion under him, and with its help, he was able to reach the table. The boy opened the book.

  It was a large tome bound in black leather. The outside was plain, but inside, on the first page, was a map and a drawing of a colossal dragon.

  “Wow! Did you draw the dragon?”

  “Yes, I did,” Manchego said, proudly.

  “And what was his name?”

  “His name was Róganok.”

  “Róganok? Like the dog?”

  Manchego was delighted. “Exactly,” he said.

  Liam turned the pages and read the title aloud, “World of Portals: The Lyric of the Wind. Is it a book of adventures?”

  “It’s a book with a lot of adventures, son.”

  “It’s awesome! Will you read it to me before I go to sleep?”

  “It would be a pleasure.”

  “Every night?”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “It’s a made-up book, isn’t it?” Liam asked. Suddenly, unsure of the treasure in front of his face, he started to leaf through it. Something in his father’s energy told him that this book was worth more than any jewel.

  “One day you’ll know, my son. One day.”

  Manchego hugged his son and smiled. The war of the gods had been an event that would be forgotten by the deities. Just as Mother had told him: the Gods and their dragons would be reborn with no awareness of the great treacheries and murders which had taken place happened. But he would never forget.

  So as not to miss any detail, he had begun to write the story even before he had found his passion for art. Now it had become an enormous narrative of thousands of pages. If there was anybody who would read it with pleasure and be delighted to translate it into many languages, it would be Gáramond. Manchego had not gone back to the North for a decade. If he found out about what was going on there, it was through the news that travelers brought. He made a mental note to visit Háztatlon. Per
haps the time had come to go back and see old friends again.

  “Daddy, are you in this story?”

  “Yes, son. It was me when I was thirteen years old!”

  “Wow!”

  Liam set to work and went on reading.

  Manchego read a few lines and remembered. His gaze turned grimmer. No, people ought not to forget. The book had to be reproduced and distributed. This was more than a story, it was an experience. The best thing he could do was to give the world that fragment of his memory of those great events which had almost obliterated the universe. Perhaps one day, someone would cross over to other worlds too and the book would be distributed throughout the universe.

  Perhaps.

  If the bad times returned, then someone would have evidence of how the darkness had been defeated by Good.

  Manchego smiled. His gaze passed through the window and lost itself in the rosy glow of the clouds in the distance. What beautiful clouds they were. They reminded him of a dragon. They reminded him of a friend he hoped he would see again someday.

  The End

  A Special Thanks

  Thanks so much for reading my work. Please visit my site wunderlichrealm.com and sign up to receive communications regarding future works. Please consider writing a review of my work so other readers may consider reading this series.

  Warm regards,

  Pablo.

  THE GALACTIC CRUSADE

  It’s the year 2095. The third world war rages on. The confederate states of the Megachine advance to impose their relentless totalitarian regimen on the world. If nobody stops them, our freedom will end. The allied powers have fled, the remainders of which have joined forces to create ÆTAS to confront the Megachine threat.

  About the author

  I am a Guatemalan author in the genre of fantasy and sci-fi. When not creating some strange fantasy or sci-fi world, I am an Internal Medicine Doctor by profession. I like coffee, meditation, cross-training—and reading, of course!