Death Mages Ascent

by Jon Bender

  “Did you not here me Jaxom? I asked why you have never wished to take our surname.” Corin said, bringing Jaxom out of his ruminations.

  “You know why Corin, we have been over this many times before. It would only confuse things for you. I am not of your blood so not a part of the royal family,” Jaxom replied.

  “That is a weak excuse, everyone in the kingdom knows that you are not of my blood. They also know that we were raised as brothers, and would think nothing of you taking my name.”

  Jaxom shrugged at the comment not wanting to argue the ongoing debate any further. The truth was he did not wish to take his friend’s last name because he still held out hope, however small it may be, that one day he would find his family. Jaxom berated himself for the unfair thought, Corin had been his family for as long as he could remember. Still, he thought that one day he may find blood relatives who could explain who he was and where he had come from.

  Seeing that Jaxom was not going to respond Corin let out an exasperated sigh. “Very well, I am sure you are tired after your journey and would enjoy some sleep.”

  “Yes I would,” Jaxom said.

  “There will be a war council in the morning, I assume I will see you there,” Corin said leaving no doubt that Jaxom should be.

  “Of course, I wouldn’t miss it,” he said as he stood.

  “Good, this council may be part of the decision as to who’s kingdom Ale’adaria will be,” the King said.

  “You have a poor sense of humor, but I guess even the threat of war can’t remedy that.” Jaxom replied.

  Corin chuckled at that before returning to his desk and the reports. Jaxom let himself out heading to his room, the walk back through the halls a quiet trek. Turing a corner he ran into something slight and soft that gave a startled yelp. The young woman who had fallen unceremoniously onto her rear looked up at him, piercing blue eyes regarding him with a look of irritation and annoyance. Her long blond hair had fallen over the front of her shoulders in disarray, and her dress was crumpled beneath her. Even on the ground she still maintained an air of elegance marking her for a lady of the court.

  “Well are you just going to stand there like the clumsy oaf you are, or are you going to help me up?” she said.

  Jaxom reached down offering her his hand which was gripped with more power than one would have thought her capable. Once on her feet she smoothed the nightgown and gave him a glare that could wilt flowers.

  “I had heard you were back. So I came all the way down here to welcome you, and the first thing you do is knock me down. Without an apology or at the very least a hello.” Jaxom tried to speak up to apologize but was cut off. “I swear Jaxom, it’s like you leave and come back with no manners at all.”

  Jaxom waited, making sure he was now allowed to speak. “Hello Celia, I’m sorry. I did not see you.”

  “Oh, so now I am beneath your notice. I am not even worth your attention,” she said.

  Jaxom let out an audible sigh. “It’s not like that at all and you know it. I just have concerns on my mind and was not paying attention.”

  “I suppose I can forgive you,” the scowl quickly replaced with a smile. “I guess you have just come from my cousin the way you seem to be moping about. I swear to the goddess he can put anyone in a foul mood lately, and I will bet he did not tell you I was here either.”

  “No he didn’t, I am glad to see you though,” Jaxom said truthfully. When he and Corin had been younger Celia was often at the castle learning the ins and outs of court life. Of late though she was spending more time at her father’s hold learning how to run his lands. She was an only child and as such was expected to marry and secure her family’s holdings. At twenty-three she had been able to avoid an arranged marriage, or what she termed a fate worse than death. Her father loved her and would never do anything to upset her so had never pressed the issue, but if she was not going to marry then she would have to learn how to lead. He had been unmoving on that issue and Celia had decided that it was the lesser of two evils.

  “Well I am glad to see you too. So what did the King want?” she asked.

  “He wanted my report from Denra,” Jaxom replied not wanting to think about the carnage.

  “Of course he did, not even considering that you would need rest,” she replied.

  Jaxom thought for a moment on whether or not to tell her about the coming war. In the end it did not matter, she would find out tomorrow if not sooner. “It was just as well, he received a message from a scout. Dradon and Azuria have declared war and began marching north five days ago.”

  Celia said nothing right away, only standing there staring at him as if he had sprouted another head. “What… what does he intend to do?”

  “What else? There is a council tomorrow to go over our plans.”

  Seeming to snap out of a daze she settled her shoulders. “Very well, you will need to rest then. I will see you tomorrow at the council,” she said. Before he could tell her that it had not been an invitation she turned and began walking away down the hall. It was not worth the effort to chase after her and explain, and besides she was the King’s cousin and he could deal with her.

  Entering his room Jaxom removed his boots and pants before falling into bed. Laying there thinking over what was to come, sleep quickly found him. Rest however brought him no comfort as it led him to dreams of men lying dead on a field calling out his name.

  Chapter 3

  Jaxom jerked awaked, sitting upright in his bed. The alarm bell was sounding signaling the castle was under attack. Quickly pulling his pants and boots on he opened the armoire pulling his sword from within. Securing the belt around his waist he rushed through the door and out into the hall. The bell continued to ring as he headed for the King’s quarters at a run. Members of the Guard ran past him heading in different directions searching the castle for the intruders. Rounding a corner he encountered men engaged in battle. Six of the castle Guard faced four men in black with eight others already down, the floor slick with their pooling blood. It was then he saw how so few of the intruders had put down these well trained men. The black figures moved almost like smoke, their attacks seeming to flow around the guards defenses.

  Drawing his sword, Jaxom advanced quickly through the hall intending to take the shades unaware from behind. The stories all spoke of men raising their swords and yelling as they charged the enemy line. This was not the stories, you killed your enemy as quickly as possible, and if they never saw you coming so much the better. Half way to his goal one of the black clad men turned somehow alerted to his presence. Bringing a curved blade up the invader moved to meet Jaxom, slashing down and forcing Jaxom to block the attack. Before the weapons made contact the curved blade changed direction, going wide of Jaxom’s defense aimed for his shoulder, a strike he was barely able to deflect in time. Quicker than Jaxom thought possible, the shade recovered and slashed at his side forcing him to jump back or take the blow on his ribs.

  Looking at him the shade waited. At first Jaxom thought the man wore a cloth mask, but this mask had no holes for him to see or breathe through, it was a solid back closely adhered to the face. Looking closer Jaxom could see that it was no cloth but pure shadow that hid the man’s features, as if someone had molded darkness itself to disguise the attacker. Having had enough, Jaxom swung his sword in controlled strikes, his blows easily blocked by the shade as was Jaxom intent. Continuing the flurry, Jaxom worked the Shade’s blade a little higher and out, slowly forcing his opponent’s guard further away from his body. When the opening he had created was large enough, Jaxom lashed out with a boot meant for the knee of the shade, thinking he had struck the winning blow. It was not there, the man had seemed to flow back a step without moving his feet. The curved blade once again held in front the shadow chuckling behind it, a wispy sound almost like wind down an empty hall. Feeling anger build in him Jaxom raised his hand and channeled at the body of a guard near the shade.

  The dead guard’s hand flashed out from the g
round, grabbing the Shade’s ankle and distracting him. Forced to deal with the new threat, the shadowed figure slashed down severing the hand of Jaxom’s creation but it was too late. The guard grabbed a leg with his intact hand, holding the Shade in place. Jaxom advanced swinging his sword in arcs, forcing the Shade to block the attacks as the dead guard began rising to its feet. Thrusting with the tip of his sword, Jaxom aimed for the man’s heart. His opponent was there to block but this time he was to slow, as Jaxom’s blade slid halfway into the man’s chest. Quickly retracting his sword, the man fell to the floor in a heap gasping a few more short breaths and then going still. The dead guard gained its footing to stand erect and stare blankly at Jaxom awaiting instruction. Looking into the bloodied face of his creation he was thankful it was not someone he knew.

  With a thought his animation picked up a fallen sword in its good hand and turned to the other shades. Those remaining had already downed two more of the surviving guards and the rest would soon to join them. Instructing his creation to attack, he left the risen guard to use the skill and knowledge of fighting it had known in life to fight his killers. Jaxom could control every movement if he wished but it would be waste of his concentration to do so, this way allowed him to fight as well. As one of the shades turned to meet the attack Jaxom drew the energy of death into himself, raising a hand he cast out to the other dead men in the hall. Five more of the fallen guards began to rise, grabbing up weapons from the ground as they did so. His first animated soldier had already lost its other hand, the Shades quickly discovering that stabbing and slashing would not bring it down thought to take away its ability to fight. Even handless the risen guard continued to attack, swinging its stumps as clubs and forcing the invaders to defend themselves.

  His newly raised army was moving against the shades, only this time they felt no fear or hesitation, taking grievous wounds which if not for Jaxom’s magic would have killed them for a second time. With the enemy’s concentration now divided, the living guards harassed the Shades from the rear. Attacked from two sides and with no room to move in the tight space, the Shades could only defend. One of the shadowed invaders taking a cut across the back while another’s arm was flayed open. A risen impaled by a sword took no notice of the wound, instead exploiting the opening left in the shades defenses. With the shades sword still embedded in its stomach the dead guard brought his own weapon down on the invaders shoulder, smashing through the collarbone before finally stopping in the upper chest. It was over quickly after that, with their allies gone the remaining Shades were overwhelmed by the defenders numbers.

  It had not taken considerable effort for Jaxom to maintain control over the risen, keeping them animated through a constant flow of energy he was barely aware of. That connection would continue even during sleep or until Jaxom cut it, as long as their minds were intact he could give them simple instructions. Letting them carry out his orders using their own memories to guide their actions.

  Bleeding from many wounds, the remaining guards eyed their not so fallen comrades nervously. The risen had simply stopped where they were once the fighting had ended awaiting further commands. The first to rise had lost both hands, another a leg, and the one who had been impaled now had entrails looping around its feet. He could repair the damage, but it would take more time and energy than he was willing to expend without knowing how many more of the attackers were left. Moving those of the risen too damaged to fight near the walls, he withdrew his power letting their bodies rest once more.

  With his three remaining risen in tow, Jaxom passed the guards on his way towards the King’s quarters. One placed a hand on his arm stopping him, a middle aged man with a well-kept black beard laced with gray. He had received a long cut down the right side of his face which bled freely. “Thank you Magus, if you had not come when you did we would be dead,” the guard said. Not knowing what to say Jaxom nodded and moved past the men, unsure how to react to the thanks. No one had ever thanked him for casting before, most were just afraid and avoided him altogether.

  As Jaxom closed on his goal, he began to hear the sounds of men yelling and the clang of steel on steel. Coming into the wide hall housing the royal rooms, he found twenty of the King’s personal guard at the end directly in front of the King’s chambers. Fighting in small groups of two or three men, only holding their own against the eight shades by sheer virtue of numbers. Commanding his risen to move forward into the fight, Jaxom raised his own sword to attack but was stopped by a woman’s scream of anger in a room to his right. Swearing to himself he knew that only members of the royal family slept in this area. Charging into the room he found Celia in a night gown her back to a wall, a long gash running down her thigh and a long dagger grasped in both hands. Across from her stood a shadowed figure whose left arm showed a bloody tear in the sleeve. The man turned to regard him, its shadowed covered face staring into his eyes.

  “Well what are you waiting for? Kill him!” Celia yelled.

  Perhaps the invader thought she had been talking to him because he lunged forward, swinging his sword in a wide arc at Jaxom’s head. Meeting the blow with his own blade, the resulting impact sent a vibration down Jaxom’s arms, nearly costing him his grip. The shade shifted to the left without moving his feet and swung again. Jaxom was there to meet the attack once more, this time parrying and slashing for the Shade who was no longer there. Back and forth they went, the shade managing to score a long deep cut on Jaxom’s leg. A wound that slowed Jaxom’s movement considerably and the invader quickly took advantage of. Rushing forward the shade attacked, swinging furiously hoping to end the fight quickly. Barely able to hold the wickedly curved blade at bay, Jaxom was forced to give ground until he was backed against a wall. Sensing his opportunity the shade swung his sword to the right forcing Jaxom to parry, then shoulder charging into Jaxom’s chest. The blow knocked the wind from his lungs as Jaxom slammed against the wall and collapsed to the floor. Stunned and now sitting against the wall, Jaxom was only vaguely aware of the shade approaching to finish him.

  Something flashed behind his intended executioner causing the shade to flinch and spin about to face Celia still holding the dagger. That was all the time Jaxom needed, raising his hand he cast forward his magic. Releasing a flow of gray and black twirling smoke that stretched out slamming into the shade’s back. Enveloping him the smoke wrapped tendrils around the shades body, and for the first time since the fight began Jaxom heard a shade scream. Everywhere the smoke touched began to rot, as if years of decay had come all at once. Jaxom did not enjoy what this magic did, and could only guess at the pain of feeling your body rot while you were still alive. The shade had left him no choice when it had went for Celia.

  His head was throbbing from the impact with the wall, the fight and casting leaving him drained and feeling tired. Using the wall for support he began to stand as Celia helped him, still holding her bloodied dagger. Once on his feet Celia began cutting away strips of her nightgown and binding her leg, then cutting away more to do the same for him. Looking up at him she caught him staring at the amount of leg she had just exposed. He could swear he saw the hint of a smile before she tightened the strip down on his leg a little more roughly than was needed to dissuade his roaming eyes.

  “You’re not very good at this rescuing a lady in distress thing are you?” she said.

  “Show me a lady…” Jaxom replied under his breath. Celia punched him in the arm telling him he had not been as quiet as he thought.

  While Jaxom was catching his breath she had gone still, staring at what was left of the shade on the floor. A pile of flesh, rotted cloth, and bare bone piled in a heap. “I did not know you could do that,” she said.

  “I’m sorry, I had no choice,” he replied, feeling shame at what he was capable of and that she had witnessed it.

  She put her hand on his face drawing his eyes to her own. “Do not be sorry. You saved my life and he got what was deserved. I know you think everyone is afraid of you… but I am not.” She kis
sed him gently on the cheek and smiled. Looking at the door to her room which had been slammed closed in the fight, the sound of the ensuing battle could be heard through the heavy wood. “Are you ready?”

  Taking a deep breath he nodded. Hefting his sword he moved to the door, only to have her grab the knob first. He gave the disheveled but still beautiful woman a stern look which she returned with one of her own.

  “He is my King as well.”

  Beyond tying her up and leaving her defenseless in the room, Jaxom doubted that he could keep her from following him. “All right, but I go first.”

  She nodded, dropping her dagger and recovering the dead shades sword. Opening the door she followed him out into the hall. The King’s personal guard were not faring well in the fight. More had arrived to protect the king, but the shades had received reinforcements as well. Of the three risen he had brought with him only one remained, continuing to fight tirelessly.