The floor was oddly almost free of dust, and more tiles, like those in the outer chamber, covered it in ornate patterns. They drew the eyes of the group as they swirled and twisted off into the distance.
There was also furniture here, row upon row of stone benches like church pews that faced forward toward the center of the enormous area.
“What is that?” Malfiess wondered as he pointed across the room. “Is it a statue?”
Ethmira narrowed her eyes as she looked in that direction. Even though the room had brightened considerably, the distant object was hard to make out. But a ranger's trained eye was keener than most and Ethmira finally replied to the councilor's question.
“It's a dais,” she told him. “And I'm fairly sure that there is a throne on top of it.”
“So this is the throne room,” Diane said with some satisfaction. “Just as I suspected. The last kingdom that Lord Serris Amthellan reigned over did not extend beyond this castle. What must his remaining days have been like, after ruling over an entire world?”
“He was mad,” Malfiess said flatly. “Mad and evil. He was a despot who tortured and murdered indiscriminately, killing anyone whom he considered a rival or a threat. Whole villages were razed to the ground just because he suspected that they might disagree with some of his decrees. I feel no sympathy for him and his last days, whatever they were like. The greatest miscarriage of justice in elven history was that we were not able to bring that monster to justice, to face his victims in open court. He should be left to the dust of antiquity and his name should never be spoken again.”
Everyone looked at him in amazement and Malfiess glared back at them for a moment. Then he took a deep breath and smiled self-consciously.
“Sorry,” he said softly. “After reading about Serris recently, his misdeeds are still fresh in my mind. I cannot imagine anyone doing the things that he did to his fellow elves. But it led to a new independence for our people and a rejection of the idea of allowing a monarch to rule over us, so I suppose some good came of such a sad time in our history.”
Diane nodded.
“I understand your outrage,” she told him. “My own people's history was a long and bloody one. Unfortunately we never seemed to learn from the mistakes we made and the monsters we allowed to rule over us. And now we are a mere shadow of our former selves, almost wiped out by the whims of beings much more evil than this Mad King ever was. Is that irony? I'm not sure. But it is certainly tragic.”
“You'll stop them, Diane,” Chase said firmly. “You and Simon and the other heroes he has gathered. You will find a way to stop the old gods.”
“Will we?” the mage replied as she stared past the many rows of stone benches at the distant throne. “I know that we'll try, and we will at least give them bloody noses before the end. But the entire elven race couldn't stop even one insane ruler.”
She gestured at the soaring walls and ceiling above them.
“He spent his final days waiting for a retribution that never came. There was no justice for him, and there may be none for the old gods who decimated my race. In the end, maybe evil and chaos will triumph over goodness and justice. I just don't know anymore.”
“You are letting this place get to you, my friend,” Ethmira warned her. “It feels like the Mad King's venom seeped into the very stone itself here. Do not allow yourself to be influenced by it. If Serris had been found by our people, I assure you that he would have faced their wrath. He did not triumph, Diane. He sat alone and desolate until the end of his days. How bitter must that end have been for him? How pathetic he must have felt. There is certainly some justice in that, don't you think?”
Diane stared at her for a moment and then she nodded.
“You make a good point,” the mage said. “Yes, you do indeed. Forget that I said anything. And you're right. This place feels like a tomb, not a palace. It weighs on me. Come on, let's get this over with. Callius, are you still sensing danger ahead?”
“Yes,” the young elf said. “And it is centered on that dais. Perhaps it is a relic of some sort? A magical talisman or something like it? I cannot say.”
“We''ll see soon enough. Here we go. Everyone stay inside the shield.”
They began to advance again, walking slowly while keeping an eye on their surroundings. They passed row upon row of stone benches, enough seating to have held hundreds of subjects. At one point Chase wondered out loud at their purpose.
“Surely Lord Serris didn't actually bring hundreds of his followers with him when he retreated to this citadel, did he?” she asked.
“I suspect that when this place was built, the Mad King was still ruling over the elves,” Ethmira replied as she closely followed Diane. “He must have had this palace constructed for another purpose, perhaps as a summer retreat. It was only when he ran away to hide in terror from his enraged subjects that it became his prison. And how desolate must it have been for him to stare out over rows of empty benches as he reflected on his past glories. Serris ruled for centuries, after all, and yet at the end he sat alone. And what a fitting end it was.”
They continued forward and now everyone could see the dais looming ahead, topped with a throne made, not of stone, but of shining metal. It glinted oddly in the uncertain light of the chamber.
“Metal again,” Malfiess said in wonder. “Why? Such a foreign substance for an elf, even one as corrupt as Serris was. It should have been made of wood or stone. Very strange.”
“He was insane,” Diane reminded him as she held her staff steadily, keeping her focus on her shield as she led the way. “Who can say what his motivations were? An old saying comes to mind: 'You can't understand crazy'. I don't remember who told me that once, but they were right.”
Chase chuckled at that comment and the others smiled even in the oppressive atmosphere of the throne room.
“You make a good point,” Malfiess agreed. “I suppose that we'll never know why he did what he did.”
Callius hissed loudly and Diane stopped immediately.
“What is it?” she asked the young elf.
“Look,” Callius said as he pointed ahead with a shaking hand. “There is someone sitting on the throne.”
“What?”
All of them looked at the dais, now no more than a few dozen yards away. The iron throne on top of it had a high back and wide arms. The dark metal seemed to have a blacker shadow centered on it, but it was very hard to tell from where the group was standing.
“Ethmira, is he right?” Malfiess asked in a low voice. “I cannot see clearly from here. It just looks like a shadow to me.”
The ranger stared at the throne and nodded slowly.
“It's a figure,” she told him. “At a guess, I'd say that we have discovered the place where Lord Serris met his final end.”
“His corpse? There?” Malfiess said incredulously. “But he died thousands of years ago. His remains should be nothing but dust by now.”
“The air in here in devoid of moisture,” Diane reminded him. “A body could have been preserved for centuries in such a place, like the desiccated husk of an insect.”
Malfiess' face twisted in disgust.
“Horrible,” he muttered. “Fitting perhaps, but horrible.”
Diane stared at the dais.
“Let's keep moving,” she said.
They passed the last row of benches and finally stood at the bottom of the dais. It rose six feet above them, with ten shallow steps carved into the granite base leading up to the throne looming over them. And now that the towering seat could be seen clearly, they could all tell that it had been forged out of thick iron that had been lamented with a deep purple color. Dust covered it, but no one really noticed. They were focused on the tall figure sitting slumped over on the throne itself.
“The Mad King, I presume,” Diane said softly.
The corpse was wearing armor, silver and gold metal that still gleamed under a layer of dust. A massive sword leaned against the side of the throne It had a blood red hilt a
nd was topped with a huge ruby. The head of the corpse was tilted forward, a golden crown still resting on it. To everyone's relief its face could not be seen.
“So that is the red blade,” Malfiess muttered as he stared at the sword in anger. “How many lives did that accursed sword take during Serris' rule?”
He glanced at Diane.
“The king liked to execute his most hated enemies himself. Legend says that his blade took on its red stain after soaking in the blood of hundreds of innocents.”
Diane nodded thoughtfully and turned to Callius.
“What do you sense now?” she asked him. “Do you still feel something?”
“Yes,” the young elf said nervously. “And I believe that it is coming from that...thing.”
He pointed up at the sword and everyone followed his gaze.
“Hmm. Perhaps that gem on its pommel is enchanted,” Diane said. “But it is no threat now, surely. It is now merely the abandoned tool of a dead master.”
“And yet Callius was drawn here by it. He says that the ley energy led him to this place,” Ethmira reminded the mage. “For what? To look upon the remains of a despot? To stare in disgust at the weapon of a mass murderer? Surely there is more to it than that.”
The group all looked at Callius and he reddened at their attention.
“I don't know why I was shown this location, Commander,” he told Ethmira earnestly. “It can't have just been for that sword, obviously. But I am at a loss as to what the real purpose was.”
“The real purpose was to lure you to your deaths, fools.”
All of them jumped at that statement. Ethmira and Chase raised their bows and Diane grounded her staff as they quickly looked around, searching for the source of the mocking voice that had spoken.
“Look up at the dais,” Callius whispered in fear. “The body is moving!”
The magic shield distorted their vision somewhat, but everyone could see clearly enough as they stared up at the throne. To their horror, they could see the left arm of the slumped corpse slowly reaching out in a stiff, jerky motion. It finally rested its mailed hand on the hilt of the large sword and the weapon screeched loudly against the surface of the dais as it was dragged back toward the body.
“He's alive!” the young scryer exclaimed, shivering in terror.
“Impossible,” Ethmira said as she glared up at the throne. “Some evil force is attempting to take control of the body, that's all. I have seen this before, years ago on Earth. A group of necromancers serving the dark gods used corpses to fight for them. This is no different.”
“Necromancy,” Diane said to herself as she watched the twitching corpse. “Yes, of course. Simon told me about some of those battles. But to see it practiced here on Trillfarness is a shock.”
“But how do you stop an animated corpse?” Chase asked them as she drew back her bowstring, aiming at the figure above them. “I doubt that an arrow to the head is going to make much difference.”
Before Diane could reply, chilling laughter cut her off and all of them fell silent in shock. The corpse was staring down at them.
The body had raised its crowned head and now all of the group could see its face. And it was worse than they might have imagined.
Desiccated flesh covered its head, turning it into a blackened skull. Thin lips were pulled back from its teeth and they gleamed like ivory in the dim light. There was a cavernous hole where the nose had once been and white hair hung like straw from beneath its jagged crown.
But it was the eyes that caught everyone's attention. They glowed with a ghostly green light and somehow expressed an insane glee as the corpse stared down at the elves and Diane.
Using the huge sword as a crutch, the undead king pushed himself to his feet. His joints creaked and snapped horribly as he stood up and his armor squealed in protest as he moved. It was like watching a life-sized puppet being manipulated by unseen strings.
“This cannot be happening,” Callius whispered, wide-eyed. “It is impossible!”
When it was finally standing, the corpse's jaw gaped open and it laughed loudly again.
“I see that supplicants have come to visit their king,” the chilling bass voice exclaimed, the sound ringing across the throne room. “Are you here to beg for a boon? If so, you must bow and show me proper respect before I will hear your petition.”
Diane frowned at that statement. She looked quickly at Malfiess and lowered her voice as she spoke to him.
“This...thing may believe that it is still alive,” she told him. “You know more about Serris than the rest of us. Speak to him. See what you can learn.”
“Speak to that?” Malfiess replied in disbelief. “It's a corpse! Something is clearly controlling it, but I doubt that it is the spirit of the Mad King.”
“Come, come,” the undead monster boomed. “Speak up! I am very busy and have many calls upon my time. State your business or withdraw from my presence.”
Malfiess stared at him for a long moment and then stepped forward and got down on one knee. He made sure to remain within Diane's shield as he looked up at the armored corpse.
“My Lord Serris, you are correct,” he said loudly. “We have come a long way to discuss matters of great import with you.”
“Ah, matters of great import,” Serris replied. “Good. I have no time for trivialities. Speak then. What do my subjects ask of me?”
“Great king, our world is under attack,” Malfiess told him. “Unknown forces threaten your people and your rule and we are powerless to stop them. And so we have come to you, seeking your aid in our fight.”
Serris raised his great sword as if it weighed nothing and rested it on his armored shoulder.
“Unknown forces, you say? Threatening my realm? What forces are these? Tell me what they have done and where they have attacked us.”
Diane was watching the animated corpse with narrowed eyes and, as Malfiess was about to reply, she moved forward and put a hand on his shoulder.
“Stop, Malfiess,” she told him. “You are wasting your time. That thing is simply playing with us.”
The councilor stood up and looked at her.
“What are you doing?” he whispered. “You were right. He obviously thinks that he is still alive, somehow. We may be able to use that to our advantage.”
“No, I was wrong. You cannot see it, but I'm sure that Callius can.”
“See what?”
Malfiess looked over his shoulder at the scryer and Callius reluctantly moved closer and stared up at the figure towering over them.
“Are you sensing what I am?” Diane asked him.
“Yes, Lady Diane,” the young elf replied. “It wasn't obvious until the corpse began to move, but it is now.”
Diane looked at Malfiess and then she glanced back at Ethmira and Chase.
“There is a tendril of ley energy attached to that thing,” she told them as she looked back at Serris. “It reaches directly up from beneath the throne, connecting the body to the ley lines far below.”
“He's a puppet?” Ethmira asked as she continued to aim her bow at the undead king.
“No, I don't think so. I believe that he is the nexus of all of this.”
A low rumble of laughter erupted from the armored figure.
“Ah, so you have worked it out, have you?” Serris said, an evil amusement tinging his voice. “I had hoped to play with you a little longer. How disappointing.”
“Step back, Malfiess,” Diane told the councilor. “I need an unobstructed view of him.”
Malfiess moved back and left the mage facing the undead king alone.
“What are you?” she asked him.
“What am I? What am I?”
The corpse threw back his head and laughed madly once again, his armor shaking loudly on his desiccated body.
“You know who I am! I am Serris, supreme ruler of Trillfarness and eternal king of the elves. Traitorous dogs once forced me to retreat to this stronghold. They thought that they had def
eated me, that they had triumphed over me and usurped my rightful rule.”
His burning green eyes flared with power as he looked down at the group.
“Fools, thinking that they could destroy me so easily! I ruled over this world for millennia. To presume that they could steal my throne from me? That I could not allow.”
He slammed the point of his sword into the dais in front of him and the entire hall shook at the impact. Diane continued to watch him closely.
“And so, to live long enough to avenge yourself on your people, you made a deal, didn't you?” she asked.
“You are wise for a human,” Serris admitted reluctantly. “Yes, I struck a bargain. As I waited here alone, feeling the suffocating grip of death slowly descending upon me, a whisper came to me. A faint voice touched my mind, the first voice that I had heard in many years. It asked me if I wished to survive, if I wanted to regain my eternal throne one day.”
He lifted his sword and pointed it at Diane.
“Of course I said yes! My thirst for vengeance still burned in my heart. My ignominious defeat at the hands of vermin was something that I could not bear! That my legacy would be stained by such an act could not be borne.”
“And what did that whispering voice demand of you in return, Lord Serris?” Diane asked him. “What price were you willing to pay?”
For a moment, the skeletal figure's eyes dimmed. He seemed to hesitate as he bowed his heavy head and lowered his sword.
“Anything,” he said softly. “I was willing to pay any price to regain my throne. What king would not?”
“A king who cared more for his people than for his own selfish ego,” Diane told him disdainfully.
“You dare to judge me?” Serris roared, his eyes burning once again in rage. “You, whose pathetic race is about to crumble into the dust of history? You know nothing of the glory of the elven people. We were the first born of the gods! Our civilization reached heights of learning and wisdom so great that your puny race could not even begin to comprehend them. We were ancient before your pathetic species even crawled out of the muck as mindless beasts. Do not presume to lecture me on what is right and wrong. I am the greatest king that Trillfarness has ever had and soon I will rise again and rule as is my divine right. This is what was promised to me, and if I had to pledge my soul in return, I say that it was a fair exchange.”
The Fall of the Elves Page 30
