Necromancer: Book Ten Of The Spellmonger Series

by Terry Mancour

  I use the term “square” loosely, as this feature was actually round, a perfect circle surrounding three incredibly stately natavia trees. A great edifice towered over the circle on the east, with two great wings encircling the center and ending at the physical gate, on the western side.

  I was stunned. Carneduin was decentralized and sublime. Anthatiel, before its fall, had been grand and splendid; but Anas Yartharel encapsulated the greatness of the Alka Alon during their warring states period, and it was a fortress as much as it was a city. Even cynical Master Azhguri spoke of the works of Anas Yartharel as one of his folk’s finest. I could immediately see why.

  But I could also see the damage wrought by the recent attacks. There were areas of the fortress that were burned, the wooden interiors blasted. Some of the tallest spires were cracked and melted by dragonfire, the heat so strong that it caused the stone to change form. Reconstruction was continuing on those sections, but the bulk of the citadel was intact.

  “Welcome to Anas Yartharel, my lords and ladies,” a naked Alkan female, in native form, bid us as we materialized. “I am Tervedes, Herald of Raer Letharan. When you have recovered from your transition, I will escort you to the council chamber.”

  “I think we’re good,” I said, glancing around at my people. None of them looked as if they were going to vomit. “We’re old hands at the Ways, by now. Especially when we can do it in ways that don’t damage our brains.”

  “Very well, my lords and ladies. Follow me.” She began walking at a quick pace to keep up with our longer legs. She led us up a long spiraling ramp to an upper chamber overlooking the courtyard, below. Along the way we passed hundreds of diminutive little Alkans hurrying about their work – in a much more formal manner than the comparatively relaxed folk of Carneduin or the Tower of Refuge.

  The great chamber we were led to had a large, low table in the center, around which were low, elaborately-carved stools for the members of the council. Everyone else gathered around the periphery of the room to watch and listen.

  “You are to sit here, my lord Minalan,” Tervedes indicated. “Here is the seat reserved for Lord Aeratas,” she said, sadly, as Lady Falawen too her seat. “And here is the place for Lady Pentandra – is she not among you?” she asked, in her high little voice.

  “She is recovering from her birthing,” I announced. “Four days ago, but she’s still contending with the novelty of motherhood, and three hungry little babies.”

  “Trygg’s blessings upon her,” Tervedes said, courteously but automatically. “Who shall speak in her stead?”

  “Magelord Astyral of Tudry,” I introduced, as the Gilmoran gave a long, gracious, and utterly human-style bow. “He is high in our counsels, and has been a stalwart defender of the realms of Alkan and humani. He enjoys our trust and we value his wisdom,” I added.

  I’m going to remind you of that later, Astyral quipped, mind-to-mind, as he was seated.

  We were among the last to arrive, but there were a few stragglers. Eventually Lord Letharan, who seemed taller and statelier than the other Alkans, called the council to order.

  “We have been summoned to emergency council this day to hear intelligence on the recent raid on the citadel of Olum Seheri,” he announced, causing some murmurs among the crowd. Apparently, the raid was not common knowledge among the Alka Alon. “This raid was a joint operation between the humani magi and the . . . Tera Alon,” he said, pronouncing the name with visible distaste. “While they claim it was a successful raid, I have the misfortune to have to announce that Lord Aeratas fell during the expedition.”

  There was even more murmuring, and even shock, among the Alkans assembled. Letharan continued.

  “This, we can all agree, is disturbing news. To have such a noble and powerful Alkan to fall in the pursuit of such a foolhardy goal . . . it saddens us all. But we must make the best of the situation,” he continued, in a more hopeful tone. “For though we have lost a great Alkan, we have – supposedly – gained intelligence that will help mitigate the pain of the grievous blow. The wizard Minalan, called the Spellmonger, provisional member of this council, has asked to report on the raid and share the news he discovered during his exploration of Olum Seheri.”

  So I did. For two hours, I gave a stirring account of the raid, from the planning and preparation through the execution to the inevitable surprises to the remarkable battle that concluded it.

  It was a difficult story to tell, for there were many sides and perspectives that needed to be shared: the ferocious nature of the draugen, the power of the Nemovorti and their living Enshadowed auxiliaries, the composition of the professional hobgoblin infantry Korbal favored, the layout of his fortress complex (included on a magemap I’d been working on) – all of it.

  I tried to stay away from the vainglory of the battle, and focus on the importance of the intelligence. The biggest shock came when I revealed that the Aronin of Amadia was still alive, when I found him in the dungeons of the Necromancer before he finally expired. I passed along his message of defiance, and the last counsels he’d given me for them.

  “So, as you can see,” I concluded, “the threat that the Necromancer now poses is even greater than Sheruel. His goal is not simple extermination: it’s conquest. First of the human realms, then the Alkan, and eventually he prepares to challenge the Vundel, themselves. From what I’ve been led to understand, that would be a crisis for everyone.”

  “Yes, it would,” Lady Micrethiel said, suspiciously. “And it would follow the fanatical ideology Korbal and his folk fought for, before their entombment. But it is madly ambitious,” she pronounced. “It is hard to credit his plans with any seriousness.”

  “Yet he is no longer merely a necromancer,” I pointed out. “He is now armed with the might of Sheruel, enslaved by his iron staff. I have interviewed its creator extensively about it. I have no doubt that Korbal now has the means to effect at least the first part of his plan.”

  “And you say you have attacked his vaunted immortality?” asked Raer Haruthel. “How so?”

  This is where it was going to get hairy, I knew. “Among my goals for this expedition was the recovery of a special enneagram from the Ghost Rock vein for a thaumaturgical experiment – since I was there, anyway, I took the opportunity. The resulting paraclete demonstrated surprising talents, when it was installed in a device. One of them was to affix Korbal’s enneagram permanently to his current – and increasingly decrepit – body. That prohibits him from changing at whim, the way the other Nemovorti seem to do.”

  “And you secured a prisoner? You actually took Mycin Amana captive?” he asked. There was a look in his beady little eyes that told me that he had some especial issue with her.

  “She is locked away in one of my castles,” I agreed, not willing to name which one. There was some indication that there were spies among the Alka Alon who reported to the Enshadowed. I didn’t need to tell them where they could find the undead bitch. “And she is not the only one: my apprentice also captured a Nemovort, by herself. He, too, is now captive. I will begin interrogating him, myself. A vivisectionist, by her telling,” I said, nodding toward Dara. She looked pale at the memory, but nodded back.

  “Ah,” Haruthel said, a rare look of disgust on his tiny face. “Khudoz. I had hoped his pattern had degraded, during his entombment. It appears we are to have him inflicted upon us again.”

  “They both may prove useful,” countered Lord Letharan. “Mycin, at least, was in Korbal’s highest councils. She will know the specifics of his plan.”

  “Is she likely to share that information?” Haruthel asked, doubtfully.

  “She will be compelled to,” Letharan assured, in a tone of voice that made me – almost – feel sorry for Mycin. “It is clear that the so-called reforms adopted to contend with this new age have failed, my lords,” he pronounced. “Our past foes spring anew from the earth, and they not only awaken old enemies and threats, they conspire to add new ones. We must return to a more resolute stanc
e against such forces,” he declared.

  “There is no need to abandon our peaceful civilization in response to this,” Aronin Ladas, another council member, contested. “We have the made great strides in coming to peace with our nature. To cast that aside at the first sign of trouble is folly.”

  “To do nothing in the face of an obvious and existential threat is folly compounded,” countered Letharan. “I have no love for the humani, but I cannot discount their rash bravery in chancing the Necromancer’s dark land. Korbal’s power is nascent, at the moment, but it grows. His inclination is well-known, and his enmity for the established order. He has attacked two of our strongest citadels, and taken one. When, Master Ladas, will it become clear to you that this is now more than mere humani-versus-gurvani?” he demanded. “When the dragons descend on your own land?”

  “If one insists on living in a fortress,” the Aronin replied, stiffly, “then one must expect to attract enemies.”

  “And if one insists on living in highly-flammable trees,” Letharan replied, hotly, “then one must expect to burn by dragonfire. The walls and spires of Anas Yartharel were resolute enough against two dragon attacks,” he boasted. “I doubt your glorified orchard will protect you as well.”

  “Lords!” Master Haruthel interjected. “We meet to deliberate war, not to war amongst ourselves,” he reminded them, sternly. “The dignity of this council demands we find clarity and agreement, not discord.”

  “You speak of dignity, when humani and rebels are permitted in council?” scoffed Micrethiel. “You should be imprisoned!” she said, addressing Lilastien accusingly. “I knew it was a mistake to parole you!”

  “After what I witnessed at Olum Seheri, if you wish to exile me back to the Tower of Refuge, I will count myself safe and fortunate,” Lilastien countered. “Thanks to the humani gods, the place has more protection against the enemy than this mighty fortress.”

  “Humani gods!” Micrethiel snorted. “We well know the dangers of dealing with those . . . entities,” she said, distastefully. “Wherever they appear, they destroy and disrupt the established order. A complete bother!” she declared.

  “Yet they can be useful,” I reminded them. “Among the other news I bear to the council, I must also report a recent interaction with the Vundel. Indirectly, through one of their humani servants,” I hastened to say, when I saw the pale looks on their faces. “Earlier this year he approached me on their behalf to secure a sample of snowstone. It has, apparently, been ‘tasted’ in the waters downstream, and the Sea Folk are as eager to experiment with its unique properties as you are.”

  “The Vundel? Treated with a human?” scoffed Micrethiel. “Why?”

  “Because we had something they wanted,” I stressed. “How often has that happened in the ten thousand years of Alon civilization on Callidore?”

  “Rarely,” conceded Master Haruthel. “Mostly they have left us alone, or condescended to instruct us about our place on this world.”

  “So, we have something they want,” I said, hopefully.

  “Did you grant them the sample, Wizard?” asked Micrethiel.

  “An entire mountain of it,” I agreed. “They took delivery at once, transporting the whole mountain magically. It left quite a gap in my landscape,” I smiled. “But I figured that if the Vundel wanted it, I was behooved to grant it.” No need to mention the incredible amount of money I got in return – the Alka Alon don’t use money, and don’t appreciate it as we humans do.

  “This is troubling news,” Master Haruthel said, looking down at the table. “We have escaped close scrutiny by the Vundel because they have had little to interest them on land. If that has changed, so has our relationship to them.”

  “But it changes for the better,” I pointed out. “We have some bargaining leverage, now.”

  “At most, it buys us a little time,” Letharan said, troubled. “Maybe a few centuries. Their patience is limited, for such a long race, and we are already on probation.”

  I grinned. “A few centuries? My lords, while I appreciate your immortal perspective, among the humani mighty empires can rise and fall in a space of decades. Perhaps you can make use of our hastiness?” I suggested.

  “Foolhardiness, is more apt,” Micrethiel snorted. “You are a reckless and thoughtless species, whose temperament waxes and wanes with the tides!”

  “My lady, I cannot disagree,” Astyral said, for the first time. “Indeed, I share your concern. Which makes decisive action all the more important while you have our inconstant attention. What happens, if Korbal decides to bide his time and build his strength at the Umbra and Olum Seheri for half a century? Will the humani leadership of that time have the incentive to action, when they strike? Or will you have to stir up our attention yet again, making these same arguments to those foolish warrior princes?”

  “If we can even gain their attention!” she huffed.

  “Exactly, my lady,” Astyral said, persuasively. “We do not have the benefit of your long life, and are therefore impatient in our policies by necessity. When there comes a band of us foolish mortals with enough wisdom to understand the need for action, the wise thing to do is to take advantage of it.”

  “I admit that this has been a useful foray,” Micrethiel said. “You humani have stumbled upon important information. But you lack the perspective to understand the implications of the contest we face.”

  “Your pardon, my lady,” Astyral said, before I could speak, “our ephemeral nature gives us the perspective needed, at this time. A perspective your eyes might miss: Korbal has set his sights on dominating human civilization.

  “Perhaps you might think that will be a slow, gradual process, but my mortal perspective tells me that is not: already the undead roam parts of Enultramar, and his agents and spies seek to usurp control of that prosperous province. Next year, if allowed to go unchecked, the Nemovorti will struggle to dominate the region. The year after that, they will command it. A cautious perspective may serve the interests of the Alka Alon, but it will be caution while your house is already afire.”

  “The wizard speaks truly,” Lord Letharan admitted, sullenly. “I was arrogant, when I misbelieved my friend Aeratas’ pleas for attention. Gurvani tribesman with irionite? A few dragons? My home has weathered worse than that, over its history.

  “But Korbal is insidious, as is the fanatical movement he leads,” he continued, darkly. “Do you forget the horrors he inflicted, during his brief rule in the wastelands? He remains unrepentant, after his long entombment – more, if what Onranion and Lilastien say is true, he is challenging the sovereignty of the established order directly, now. Raising his banner, in human terms, not merely declaring his rebellion.”

  “Now that he has the human population to draw strength from, he is no longer dependent upon the resources a few exiled houses and discredited individuals to push his claim,” Lilastien reminded the council. “I’ve examined the bodies of the undead we slew at Olum Seheri. While not an expert in necromancy, I would venture that Korbal and the Enshadowed have nearly perfected their technique. Had not Minalan acted as he did, he would likely be in an even more powerful new body, preparing a sortie on your very gates.”

  “And we should take your counsel on this subject . . . why?” Micrethiel asked, arrogantly.

  “Is there another expert on human biology hiding out, somewhere?” Lilastien countered. “I know my craft, Micrethiel. With access to humani thaumaturgy, as well as Alka Alon magic, they are but a few iterations away from fully achieving their goal. True deathlessness. And then we have an eternal enemy to face,” she predicted. “One whose immortal perspective makes ours look like the Tal Alon.”

  That made the Alkan shift uncomfortably in her seat. “How did we allow this to happen?” she demanded. “None of this would have taken place, if the humani and their gods and their magic had not interfered.”

  “Nor would have this problem arisen if this same council had taken my advice, and dumped Korbal and his minions
into the sea,” Haruthel countered, sharply. “Were you not yourself in favor of the potential of his redemption, Micrethiel? Did you not advocate for mercy, when some counselled vigilance?”

  “We expected Anthatiel to not falter in its responsibility to maintain its guard on the place,” she shot back, defensively, looking toward Falawen.

  “Do not infer that the Anthatieli failed in our charge, my lady,” Fallawen said, coldly. “My line has overseen the Land of Scars and its secrets for thousands of years, without incident. The fact that I sit here, and not my sire, should tell you of the price we have paid for our vigilance. It took centuries for the Enshadowed to contrive a plan to circumvent the safeguards we put into place. They had to create an entire civilization and co-opt another to achieve their goal. They had to create an abomination, freeze a mighty river, and assault us in our homes in a manner no one could have expected.

  “And did you come to our aid, when Anthatiel was at need?” she demanded, passionately. “Did you reward our long vigilance with your support? Or did you deny the crisis and tend to your own affairs while . . . while only the humani were willing to dare the foe?”

  “I think your current form alters your perspective, Falawen,” Micrethiel said. “Did your father not bargain you away to them, in return for their assistance?”

  “I wed my human husband of my own accord!” she fired back, hotly. “He, at least, was willing to make the journey to succor my people. He, at least, was bold enough to challenge the gurvani at the very frozen gates of Anthatiel! Where were you, my lady?” she asked, icily. “Where were your troops? Where were your mighty spells? Were you too shamed to come to our aid because they have atrophied with age and misuse?” she taunted.

  “Speak not to me of shame!” Micrethiel sneered. “You, who has married your line into an alien species, and dare to lecture me on propriety! Would you suggest your half-Alkan mongrels inherit the City of Rainbows, someday?”

  “If they’re the only ones with the courage to fight for it, yes,” Fallawen said, flatly. I could tell she was getting frustrated. “Condemn me for betraying my race if you wish, but perhaps if the humani are the only ones willing to fight for this realm, they should be the ones to inherit it. I’ve lived amongst them for years, now, learning the ways of their people in ways you have not permitted in half a lifetime.