As the dragon spews his words, Iltar rises from the ground. With his transmutive spell complete, the huddled skeletal creature rises from the dirt. The bones of the creature ignite in a black and gray magical aura. The gigantic transmuted creature stands almost to the height of the conjuration. Once erect, the transmutive creature rushes to face the dragon.
From behind the protective sphere, Iltar smiles grimly. His brow raises and the two globes of darkness dispatch themselves from their orbit, like rogue planets violently freed from their star’s gravity. They race past the skeletal creation of dirt and impact on the dragon’s claws. The eroding magic slowly eats away at the great serpentine’s scales. Each infected metallic plate gradually decomposes and exposes the dragon’s skin underneath, but both globes of darkness dissipate before they can eat away at the dragon’s flesh.
Surprise, mingled with pain, smears across the dragon’s snout as he stares at Iltar. Suddenly the great serpent utters sharp sounds that comprise the draconic language.
“Cho’k su’zak Cho’k!”
Ignorant of the sharp sounds, Iltar slowly walks toward the dragon.
“No!” the dragon snarls and regains his composure. As he does so, the skeletal transmutive creature reaches him and grabs the conjuration’s severed arm. The dirt creature strikes its fist into the dragon’s face but the dragon quickly retaliates.
As the transmutation and the dragon exchange blows, Iltar walks forward and loudly speaks an incantation during his fast gait. A bolt of magical lightning races from his hands and through the necrotic sphere, rippling the surface of the protective barrier as it leaves Iltar’s palm. It surges straight for the dragon and causes him to buckle, allowing the transmutive creature to grasp the dragon in a tight grip.
Iltar quickly darts to his right, where the side of the dragon comes into view. The necromancer continues his magical debilitation by uttering another incantation; a wave of orange light lashes through the watery globe and flies into the dragon’s side.
“A necromancer!” the dragon painfully shouts as the two large creatures hold him in place, “How clever of you…”
The dragon winces in further pain as Iltar’s life draining magic reaches deep into his body. It penetrates his scales and seeps into his skin then the tissue below the natural armor.
Anger and frustration form upon the dragon’s snout as the small band overpowers him. He lets go of the severed magma limb and strikes the arm of the transmutive creature grappling him, jarring it loose. The dragon retaliates by striking at the magical minions with his front claws, and his hind legs, alternating which leg he uses to kick the conjuration; however, the creatures hold their own against the dragon.
A second volley of magical arrows pierces the dragon’s side, and have the same resulting explosive power, allowing the transmutation and the conjuration to re-grapple the exiled beast.
Standing near Iltar with weapons drawn, Cornar looks back into the trees toward the south east and sees a short figure kneeling on the ground, poised with his bow. As the arrow leaves the bow, the man lowers the weapon and reaches behind him. With his face clearly visible, Cornar recognizes Tilthan and laughs.
Amid the thief’s volley of arrows, Iltar continues casting his spells; several bolts of acid fly from the darkened watery sphere, striking the right side of the dragon and further weakening him. Nevertheless, the great serpentine continues his fervent attacks against his large foes.
At that same moment, rumbling proceeds the rest of the expedition as they press forward to the last dragon. Both conjurations shake the ground as they race toward the three creatures locked together.
The dragon lets out a bellowing roar of anger as the two reinforcing giants approach. One of them leaps through the air and tackles the dragon, slightly jarring him from his two captors; yet the skeletal being and the wounded magma conjuration follow the dragon’s movements. The second conjuration steps on top its companion and over to the other side of the dragon.
Each of the creatures are poised around the dragon. The two reinforcing elementals grab the dragon’s arms with one of their magma heated hands and use their other extremities to force the dragon to the ground. Iltar’s skeletal conjuration releases its grip from the severed limb and thrusts both of his magically cohesive hands down on the dragon’s head.
Kalder and the others arrive on the scene to behold their triumph against the dragons, yet neither Tilthan nor Amendal are at their side. They stop and gaze up in awe and amazement at their accomplishment.
Still encased in his protective necrotic sphere, Iltar steps forward to the dragon’s left side. As he nears the dragon, Iltar can see the beast’s left eye is completely worn away, and all that is left is an empty socket of rotting flesh.
9
Reversal
Stepping close to the dragon’s head, Iltar stares up to the decaying eye socket and laughs, “Well, lord of metal, you’re certainly not as powerful and intelligent as you proposed.”
“I’m impressed human,” the dragon snarls with his head pressed upon the ground. “Your small band is quite strong; however, if I wasn’t cursed you would have all perished!” the last of his word seethe with anger. “It took many of the strongest dragons to enslave me, and not even my former mentor, one of the greatest of all dragonkind, could wrest me by himself.
“You have your victory; kill me and cherish it, for both will be short lived.”
Puzzled at the last remark Iltar asks, “What does that mean, ‘both will be short lived,’?”
“Oh,” the dragon pauses, “Now look who’s less intelligent.”
Insulted by the remark Iltar’s face twists with rage, “I am the one in control, you bow to me!”
Immediately after the outburst, the necromancer shouts the words to an incantation.
The rest of the expedition, excluding Tilthan and Amendal, watch as Iltar’s anger erupts toward the dragon. Their faces reflect what they’re thinking; that whatever transpired must have been hard for the necromancer to endure, and he was finally letting his emotions loose.
“Now you will answer my questions!” Iltar shouts and gray magical particles swirl around his palm. The magic leaps from within the protective globe then into the dragon’s forehead.
“You won’t… get… any answers,” the dragon struggles as the magic seeps into his mind.
“Oh, but I will…” Iltar’s protective barrier fades. “I will.”
With that said, Iltar reaches his hand out and makes a grasping motion in mid air. The necromancer smiles at his captor now turned captive while sadistically stating, “Now we can get to the true purpose of our meeting… finally.
“I will ask you some questions, and you will answer them,” the necromancer sneers.
“You may not like the answers, human.”
“I’ll be the judge of that. Now first, is the amulet on Merdan?”
The dragon struggles but cannot resist the controlling magic in his cursed and weakened state, “Yes, the metallic housing is on the Isle of Merdan.”
“Good…” Iltar oozes the word. He turns to Cornar who has just reached his side, giving the warrior a smug smile. “Now we are getting somewhere.
“Where on Merdan?”
“The Fortress City of Merda, it used to be kept by the elves by order of the Ril’Sha, the draconic council, in the deepest reaches of the fortress. Now I don’t know where he keeps it…”
“Who keeps it?!” Iltar snaps.
“The Devourer. He has it now,” the dragon laughs at the thought, still in some control of his actions. “He will consume you just as he did the armies of men and elves.”
Amid the dragon’s words, Cornar looks at Iltar with confusion. He senses his friend’s anxiousness then turns back to the dragon.
Ignoring the dragon’s musing, Iltar continues his interrogation, “Where are the other parts of the amulet? The ruby and the activating spell?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” the dragon attempts to move his head to face Il
tar but gives way under the weight of the skeletal creature’s push. “I heard that the scroll once rested with a group of humans; but that Order has since been destroyed… It could be anywhere.”
“Well you’re not much help,” Iltar folds his arms and looks into the night sky.
After several moments of silent contemplation Iltar returns his attention to the dragon, “Who knows how to use the completed amulet, and where all the pieces are?”
“I don’t know…” the dragon pauses, “The Ril’Sha? Their pathetic leader? Take your pick, human. Remember I’m a fugitive, and before my exile I didn’t spend that much time with the other platinum dragons anyway.”
“You are infuriating!” Iltar yells at the beast, “I should have killed you instead of one of those older dragons, perhaps they could have answered my questions.”
“Finally you are right about one thing, human… that first you dispatched was the one who exiled me… he would have had so much more information you seek.”
Iltar looks at the captive creature in awe but then realizes the effects of his mind control spell are slowly loosing effect.
“Your spell is wearing thin Alacor…” the dragon retorts with a chuckle.
Turning to Iltar, Cornar asks with a raised brow, “You told him your name was Alacor? You must really hate that bastard.”
“Humph,” Iltar grumbles before asking his final question, “This is the last thing I’ll ask you beast. How do I travel to other worlds? And where is the stone talked about by the elves that enables me to do so?”
“The shiz’nak…? You think there’s just one?” the dragon continues to chuckle, “And why would we dragons hide something we so readily use?
“Your spell is gone necromancer. I am free of your bonds!”
At that moment, the dragon forces his head up and jolts the skeletal creature away. He opens his jaws and lets out a loud screeching scream.
“And now you’ll die!” the dragon cackles. “A fate deserving the rest of your species!”
Amid his cackle, the dragon turns to face Iltar and the two beings become locked in a gaze. The dragon’s last remaining eye reflects the light of one of Kalda’s moons, and the eye is clearly visible to Iltar. It shines a beautiful gray with flecks of red and black spiraling from the pupil to the edge of the iris. As he focuses on Iltar, the dragon’s black abyssal aperture expands shifting the strains of black and red to compress.
For a moment, time stands still as the dragon and necromancer lock gazes. A sense of overwhelming fear consumes Iltar, partially from his own mind and the flowing emotion from the dragon: anger, arrogance, superiority and utter disgust for the smaller creature below him.
Their brief gaze is interrupted by a faint sharp screeching sound in the distance and the dragon turns slightly to face it, severing the stare; nevertheless, a strange feeling lingers within Iltar’s mind.
Hearing the faint screech to the north, the members of Iltar’s expedition turn to face the sound. The evening is well into dusk and the party cannot see far into the valley.
Regaining his composure, Iltar mentally commands his minion to grab hold of the dragon’s head and force it back down to the ground.
Just as the dragon’s head becomes pinned once again, Kalder rushes forward; his bloodied weapon held by both hands and the blade raised high above his head to the right.
“Wait!” Iltar calls out, and the warrior stops just before the dragon’s snout. “I want the pleasure,” Iltar angrily steps forward and takes the weapon from Kalder’s hands.
Turning to the dragon Iltar declares, “Before you die I’ll tell you who really killed you. I am Iltar, a necromancer of immense power and the next ruler over your kind!”
“I know who and what you are,” the dragon states coldly as he glares at Iltar.
With one boney hand still on the dragon’s head, and its entire weight, the skeletal creature reaches down, and lifts Iltar to the snout of the subdued dragon. The necromancer rushes forward and with one swift stroke, strikes the dragon with the tip of Kalder’s claymore.
In that instant, the dragon attempts to let out a dying scream, but is muffled by the skeletal creature which has its boney hand pressed upon his snout.
Iltar stares at the dragon, examining his large eye which flickers but abruptly stops. The dragon’s last optical organ rests in stillness; the surrounding scales are trapped in an expression of contempt.
Grunting, Iltar climbs off the large snout and lands on the dirt, causing a cloud of dust to form beneath him.
“We need to go,” Cornar says to his friend frankly, “I hope you enjoyed that.” Turning to the others, he flatly states, “Get back to the cave, quickly!”
Kalder rushes forward to retrieve his sword, and the skeletal creature pulls it from the dragon’s skull, handing it to the warrior. Shaking his head, Kalder grabs his bloodied weapon of death and chases after the others that are now running back up the path to the cave.
As the party flees, Iltar’s minion dims in hew. The bone-like mass loses cohesion, and the re-purposed dirt falls to the ground in a pile over the dragon’s head and in front of him.
As Iltar makes his way up to the cave entrance, he notices the body of his friend, Igan, lying lifeless on the ground. Igan’s mouth is barely opened and his eyes stare up into the night sky. Frustration over his ally’s death forms upon Iltar’s face, but he quickly shakes it away and hastily scales the switchback path. Cornar comes behind him and the two men are the last to enter the safety of the tunnel.
The deadly duo passes Amendal, who is still sitting cross legged at the threshold; Cornar darts past him and further into the tunnel while Iltar leans toward the old conjurer.
“Amendal,” Iltar barks, “We have to go! Dismiss them!”
Iltar looks to the north and sees the three monstrosities still pinning the dragon to the ground. The necromancer gazes into the sky above them and sees three shimmering specks, each growing in size. A moment later, the sound of rushing wind faintly fills the valley.
“Great… More dragons,” Iltar worriedly thinks to himself.
Still in a focused state, the old conjurer remains on the floor.
Growling, Iltar reaches down and grabs Amendal from under his arms and pulls him deeper within the cave, jarring him from his concentration.
“That’s it?” Amendal mumbles and looks around, stumbling to his feet. “We’re not going to kill more?”
Once they’re several phineals inside the tunnel, Iltar lets go of Amendal. The necromancer briefly watches as the other members of the expedition are quickly gathering their gear and preparing to move back through the cavern.
“Cornar,” Iltar calls out, “Come here.”
The leading warrior stops his instruction in preparing the warriors and mages to disembark and makes his way over to join Iltar’s side.
“It looks like there’re three more after us,” Iltar whispers as Cornar steps closer to the necromancer.
The deadly duo edges back toward the mouth of the cave and looks at the scene before them: The three creatures Amendal conjured are uncontrollably roaming upon the plain. In the sky above them, both men can make out the forms of dragons soaring toward the conjurations.
Two of the dragons descend and hover over the magma creatures. They immediately dispatch the conjurations with a sharp sound and point of their large talons. Yellow portals instantly appear over each and pull the magmatic creatures through the mystical thresholds. With the elemental conjurations, gone these same two dragons descend and investigate the great serpentine Iltar had just slain moments ago.
Iltar and Cornar can hear the third dragon circling around, his wings creating large gusts of wind that wisp across the mouth of the tunnel.
Glancing to Cornar, the necromancer creeps forward then looks upward without stepping outside the cave. He notices the dragon moving away from the mountains, gliding back toward the other two while looking around the foothills. Without landing, the third dragon ascends
into the air, flying overhead and disappearing over the mountains, the sound of its wings fading rapidly
The companions in adventure glance at each other with expressions of overwhelming stress concerning the situation they have plunged themselves and their companion’s into.
Cornar silently shakes his head at Iltar with a raised brow, and Iltar simply nods his head.
Iltar turns around and walks to the others, regaining his composure of leadership, “We must make our way back out the same way we came. When we get to the lair of the tarrasque we will send the thieves through to scout.”
“What about the remaining tralyx?” Cornar asks as he returns to Iltar’s side from the cave.
“We will deal with them if they show themselves,” Iltar retorts. “It is probably still nursing its wounds and I doubt it will bring others at our approach.”
“Let’s hope so,” Hagen stammers.
“Amendal, where are those creatures you conjured?” Cornar looks around the darkened cave.
“They’re ahead, I will send them further into the cave to block any tralyx while we make our escape.”
“Kalder,” Cornar states in a commanding tone, “Stay in the rear with me!”
“Yes Cor!”
With the orders given, Iltar moves about the tunnel and searches for his small bag, the only object left on the tunnel’s floor.
Hex utters an incantation to bring forth a magical ball of light which illuminates the tunnel; a source of pure magic that suspends itself in a vibrant sphere near the wizard’s shoulders.
“Hurry,” Iltar says as he secures his pack, “We don’t have time to waste!”
The party hastily departs, following Iltar back through the rocky passageway. With quicker speed than before, the expedition arrives at the branch in the cave leading to the tarrasque’s lair.
Once the group reaches the colossal cavern’s entrance, Iltar motions for them to stop. He turns back and says in a hushed voice, “Two of you thieves check the cave and the tunnel for signs of the monster.”
Nath and Nemral wrap their cloaks about themselves and quietly enter the lair.
The Dark Necromancer Page 18
