Necromancer's Curse

by D. M. Almond

  Bipp grabbed Logan’s pant leg, throwing shame to the wind as he cringed behind him in fear. Nero stood steadfast, his blond hair whipping about as he watched Isaac suddenly rise to his feet. With a scream, Isaac thrust his hand forward, releasing the glyph in a flash of burning crimson light. In that instant, it seemed the very fabric of reality was ripping apart as the barrier shattered under the force of Isaac’s spell.

  Like massive panes of glass, it came down, the shards disappearing when they hit the floor. Logan quickly threw up his arms to shield his face. The sound of the world bending ended, and Logan could hear Isaac’s triumphant laughter.

  At first, when he put his arms down, Logan thought he must have been somehow transported to another room. But then he looked behind him and saw that they were still in the King’s Hall. Except the area on the other side of the collapsed barrier looked nothing like what they had seen before.

  Large splotches of ash were piled on the floor near the border between the two rooms, one black as night and the other silver and glittering. Wormy tapestries hung from the walls on the other side of the room, and scorch marks marred the stone floor. At least a dozen skeletons were strewn about the throne steps, each of them humanoid and the size of an Acadian.

  But that was not the most drastic of changes. That rested on the throne, which before was empty but was now occupied by a broad-shouldered gnome clutching a green glass battle-axe with an amethyst in its hilt.

  “By the gods,” Bipp gasped, swaying as if he might fall over, “it’s King Thorgar!”

  As Bipp said the name, two things immediately registered in Logan’s mind. First, that the finely preserved face he was staring at was the same as the one carved over Dudje, albeit without the roaring waterfall coming from his mouth. And secondly, that the king’s grey eyes were staring back at him with unparalleled incredulity.

  The gnome king’s hand slowly moved forward to grasp the throne’s hand rest. Stubby, ringed fingers locked in a firm hold, and he pulled himself forward with the creaking sound of century-old joints and bones popping into place.

  “Oh…by the All-Father,” Bipp said pitifully, throwing the sign of Ohm and falling to his knees to bow before the legendary gnome ruler.

  The king opened his mouth and made a rasping sound.

  “What’s he doing?” Logan asked, afraid to hear what the answer might be.

  “I think he’s trying to speak,” Nero said.

  “Well, what’s he trying to say?” Logan said. “Can’t you do your translation thingie?”

  The king gave a deep growl and cleared his throat. “I said…what have you fools done?”

  “Not the usual response we get when we wake up someone who has been asleep for centuries,” Logan said. “But that’s okay, I’ll take what I can get.”

  From deep in the bowels of the castle, a high-pitched wail erupted. The sound of it could have curdled milk and made Logan suddenly feel very sick, as if he had been kicked by a mule in the groin.

  The king’s eyes were wide as saucers, looking toward the rear entrance to the throne room. When the wailing ended, Logan found the gnome glowering at him and his companions with unbridled rage.

  “What have we done?” Bipp whimpered.

  Chapter 15

  A group of rough-looking cobolds sat in a circle, playing bones. One of them gave a shake and a toss, spouting random insults at another. When his bones rolled to a halt, clattering against the stone wall, his face dropped. The cobold he had been antagonizing laughed like a hyena and demanded he get on his knees and take the punishment like a cobold. The gambler tried to weasel his way out of the bet, and two of the others fell on him, all fists and teeth.

  Mulf suddenly wondered what the heck he was thinking coming down here. He turned away and tried to slip back down the hall, away from these lunatics.

  “Hey there, watcha doin’ sneaking about?”

  Mulf froze mid-step. The thick tufts of hair on his neck rose, and he winced.

  “I said whatcha doin’?” the cobold addressing him growled. “What’re ya, deaf or somethin’?”

  “Think it wanna be spyin’ on us,” the other beast spat.

  Mulf would have moaned if he didn’t think it would get him killed on the spot. The pea-brained warriors would beat their own kin to death at the slightest hint of weakness. It was too late now to turn back. He mustered up the courage to stand his ground and threw on his best version of a scowl before rounding to face the marauders.

  “What’s it to you?” he said with acid on his tongue. “I’ve come to speak with Burgoth, and you’d be smart not to stand in my way.”

  The cobold addressing him was the same one who had been taking a beating. “We could let you in to see Her Majesty,” he sneered. “Or we could just skin you alive and roast you for lunch.”

  Mulf gulped and looked sideways. “Be your own funeral.”

  “What’s hiss talkin’ bout?”

  “Just a sapling tryin’ to act the part,” another grunted.

  “Burgoth is going to want to hear my news,” Mulf said quickly. “And if she don’t get to hear it, she’s going to find out about the intruders anyhow, and how you lot kept me from deliverin’ the news.”

  That clearly shut the four grunts up. Mulf took his opportunity and slipped past them. He pinched his eyes shut and braced for the soon-to-come pain of having his skull smashed in by the largest cobold’s bone cudgel. He could not believe his luck when he entered the queen’s chamber unharmed.

  The queen of the cobolds stood over a cauldron. She was an old, bent shaman with hard features and even harder eyes. She was the late king’s successor and had been ruling over their nation for almost half a year now. In that time, all of their clan had come to know that Burgoth did not take kindly to disobedience and had even less tolerance for stupidity.

  “What doess Mulf want?” she asked.

  For a moment, he was too stunned that the mighty queen knew his name to respond. But when she flicked her cold eyes in his direction, the words came flooding out like vomit. “Come to tell you ‘bout an intruder Your Royalness. Was the Kingslayer I saw.”

  He had her attention now. The queen dropped her wooden ladle and locked her eyes hungrily on his bobbing Adam’s apple. “You know this true?”

  Mulf nodded. “Saw him with me own two eyes. Had that evil metal hand and everything.”

  Burgoth made a strange gurgling noise, as if she was choking on the bile rising up in the back of her throat. Mulf was not so sure news that the human who had massacred hundreds of their tribe being back was so great a thing to deliver after all. Burgoth hobbled down the worn steps and brought her long, sharp nose close enough that he could smell her sour breath.

  “Lead me to the Kingslayer. Now.”

  The roof of Bipp’s mouth was dry as wool, and his tongue felt like sandpaper. Here before him stood King Thorgar himself, greatest ruler there had ever been in all of Vanidriell. Many and long were the tales of the great king’s heroics.

  “Quit yer damn gawking and answer me question, boy!” Thorgar snarled, rising from his throne. As he moved, his bones snapped and cracked like rusty joints being used for the first time in years.

  Bipp wanted to reply, wanted to explain why they were there, why they had taken down the barrier, but all that came out was, “Great Thorgar’s bones…”

  “Is that phrase still applicable if he’s still alive?” Logan asked. “You are alive, right?”

  Thorgar’s face was beginning to turn beet red and he looked like he was going to chew his own lips off.

  “He’s alive,” Corbin muttered, elbowing Logan. “Your Highness,” he said dropping to one knee and bowing his head, “please forgive our reaction, it is nothing short of a shock to see that anyone still exists beyond the barrier.”

  “‘Course we’re still here,” Thorgar growled, taking three shaky steps down the stairs in front of his throne. “Who else would guard over the Necromancer?”

  “We?” Bipp s
queaked. He looked sideways at Logan. “There’s a we?”

  All about the newly revealed half of the throne room, bodies were beginning to stir. The king’s gnome warriors were coming back from their age-long sleep, groaning and complaining about back aches and stiff joints.

  King Thorgar stood right before them now, and though he was half Logan’s height, it felt like he towered over them. “Are you damned fools deaf? I asked you a question. Why in Óðinn’s name would you break the seal?” He jabbed a stubby finger up at Corbin’s chest with each word.

  “I’m afraid this is my doing, King Thorgar,” Isaac said. Corbin and Logan parted so the mage could walk between them.

  Thorgar turned as if he were ready to shout, and then his eyes fell on Isaac. The mask of anger drooped into a frown. “Oalthrinder? But...what are you doing here?”

  “You know him?” Logan blurted.

  Isaac ignored their outburst and bowed graciously to the gnome king. “A great darkness has taken root in the underground human kingdom. I have come to help wipe it from our world.”

  “The Necromancer?” Thorgar asked.

  Isaac shook his head solemnly. He looked like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders at that moment. “Far worse, Your Lordship. Though its beginnings certainly seem to be linked to this unholy place.”

  “King Thorgar!” a heavily armored gnome with a brown patch over his right eye shouted as he ran into the room from the southern doors. His plate armor was made of a metal which gleamed the color of green moss, and his greaves clapped hard against the stone floor as he raced across the room. The fierce-looking warrior looked as if he might rush headlong into battle with Logan and his companions, but he stopped short to kneel before his king.

  Thorgar clapped his shoulder hard, pulling him to his feet and wrapping him in a bear hug. “Broxlin, you rat’s uncle, you’re alive!”

  The gnome returned the favor, and at least a dozen more armored warriors began filing into the room, either rising from within or entering from different doors. “It’ll take more than a couple hundred cobolds to stop these old bones,” Broxlin said proudly.

  “Was more like a couple thousand, you lucky bastard,” Thorgar chuckled. “And Falmir, is he with you?”

  Broxlin dropped his eyes to the floor and shook his head. “The Necromancer’s abomination took him.”

  Thorgar looked as if he wanted to break something in half, and the way he suddenly eyed their group gave Logan the impression it was one of them.

  “He’s escaped!” a gnome wearing white robes with flecks of red that were unmistakably spatters of blood screamed as she ran into the throne room. “The Necromancer’s free, my lord!”

  “But…how can he still be alive after all these years?” Logan asked Bipp. “How can any of them be, for that matter?”

  “King Thorgar,” Isaac said, “with all due respect, if you can fill us in on what happened here, perhaps we can be of assistance.”

  Thorgar eyed them contemptuously. “These would be tomb raiders ye’ve brought into my home? What are an engineer, two kids, and an android going to do that my men cannot?”

  “Hey, who you calling kids?” Logan snapped back. “I’m a full-grown man!”

  Thorgar bobbed his head back and widened his eyes. Several of the other gnomes, of which there were now at least thirty, had similar reactions.

  Isaac remained even-keeled, his voice unwavering. “I assure you, King Thorgar, though they look smaller than surface humans, the Walker brothers are both very resourceful allies, and Bipp is as brave as they come.”

  An ear-splitting howl came from the west entrance. Logan winced. Nothing natural could make that sound. The gnomes were already falling into battle stance, ready to face the incoming threat.

  “Sounds like they’ll get their chance to prove it,” Thorgar yelled, shoving his way through the ranks to the front and swinging his battle axe. Broxlin pulled his war hammer free, which was taller than himself by a head.

  The screeching came again, along with the sound of stone being gouged by something ragged and sharp.

  “What is that?” Logan asked, unable to mask the fear in his voice.

  “Brace yourselves,” Isaac said, already swinging his staff in a continuous circle and forming a glyph in the air.

  With steely determination, Corbin had his voulge ready, but Bipp, though he held his small hammer, shared Logan’s trepidation and backed away from the overeager group of gnome warriors.

  “Sounds like at least half a dozen of ‘em,” Broxlin yelled.

  “How the hell did he manage to raise so many already?” one of the warriors croaked.

  Thorgar shot them a grin that only a true hero could possess. It said don’t worry, we got this, and it’s going to be fun. In that moment, Logan suddenly admired the gnome king. Something he could not dwell on as the screeching came through the open doorway only seconds before several animated skeletons barreled into the room.

  The gnomes fell back from the undead creatures, giving them a wide berth. Ice gripped Logan’s throat, and he felt his legs become weak like jelly. Corbin’s voulge quaked in his hands, and Bipp even yelped, much to his own embarrassment.

  Six of the undead came into the room, five of which wielded various weapons. The skeletons were the size of humans, wearing rusted armor. One of them had a jaw which was only connected on one side. The lead skeleton turned its head so that its empty, glowing eye sockets were aimed at Thorgar, the yellow light flickering like will-o-wisps, and then it opened its empty mouth and let out another wail. Logan thought he might piss himself.

  “Careful of their claws!” Broxlin warned his men. Logan noticed the tips of the skeletons’ fingers were unnaturally elongated and as sharp as knives.

  The skeletons rushed in, brutally swinging broken swords and rotting spears at the gnome warriors. They may have taken the initiative to begin the fight, but it was Thorgar who drew first blood. Howling, he rolled sideways out of a skeleton’s reach as its spear swung toward him. One of the other gnomes was surprised and knocked over when the spear came full circle, clipping the stunned gnome’s temple, but Thorgar was already back on his feet, crushing the undead monster’s knees with the flat side of his glass axe.

  Logan was too consumed with fear to be impressed that the glass weapon did not shatter against the skeleton’s bones. Two other warriors took down another of the undead creatures, and Broxlin pulverized its skull with his mighty war hammer.

  Behind them, Isaac uttered a few syllables, releasing his spell, and Logan felt a rush of warm air surround him. Corbin’s long, black hair flew forward as if a heavy gust of wind came from behind.

  Logan suddenly felt as if someone had slapped him out of a dream, one he had been observing numbly. His muscles flexed, and he gripped Gandiva with white knuckles. Logan knew Isaac had cast some sort of spell on them to give them the courage to fight.

  Logan screamed in fury and let Gandiva fly, beheading one of the skeletons that had a group of gnomes cornered. Corbin rushed in, joining some of the warriors as they battled two of the creatures.

  Bipp was hot on his heels, smashing his hammer into one of the creatures’ shin bones. The skeleton staggered sideways and turned its attention to Bipp. It opened its jaws and emitted another screech, which was cut short by Thorgar’s battle axe sheering its spinal column in half. When the top half of the skeleton hit the floor, it reached out to grab Bipp’s leg. He quickly jumped back and smashed his small hammer down, breaking two of the wicked thing’s fingers off.

  Thorgar lunged forward and cleaved the monster’s skull. The yellow light dimmed in its sockets, and the king appraised Bipp with newfound respect. “Not bad kid, but ye got to take their heads out to turn the enchantment proper.”

  Across the room, Broxlin illustrated his point, swinging his hammer in a complete three-sixty before letting it arc upward and knock the head and neck from one of the creatures. The skeleton’s skull exploded into a dozen pieces as Corbin deflected
it midair with his voulge.

  The king’s warriors were taking out the last of the skeletons, and many of them fell to stomping and spitting on the fallen remains of those already dead.

  “Ye knock it off now!” Thorgar hollered. The room fell silent. “Show some respect for the dead,” he growled. “Don’t ye be forgetting that these here were our friends once upon a time. What’s done is done, they’re stopped, and that be the end of ‘em.” He made a sign to the gods and kissed his fist, opening it in the air with fluttering fingers. His warriors followed suit, with somber faces and heavy shoulders. It was hard to be reminded that these undead monsters used to be people they knew.

  While his men talked amongst themselves, Thorgar turned on the intruders. “Not a bad bit of fightin’ from you lot. Not that I could doubt Oalthrinder.”

  Isaac bowed with a closed fist held against his chest.

  “That was too easy,” Broxlin said, low enough so his warriors could not hear.

  Thorgar nodded ever so slightly, eyeing the crushed bones scattered across the floor. “This was nothing. He’s only just woken up.”

  “Then we best act quickly, before he can retrieve the stone,” Broxlin advised.

  “Agreed,” Thorgar said. "Gabbrix, take ten men and search the western halls for our kin. Fodlor, take ten more and search the downgates. Meet back in the Elium in two hour’s time.”

  The gnomes did not hesitate to follow their king’s orders. Within seconds, they were racing out of the room from different exits, ready to scour the halls for signs of other comrades. A dozen of them remained, waiting for their leader’s next move.

  “Alma,” Thorgar addressed the gnome priestess, “we need to find out if the Hierophant made it through. He is our best chance of retrieving the stone before the Necromancer can get his claws on it.”