The Dark Necromancer

by D. J. Zangari

  A moment later, the members of the expedition vanish from the shoreline, and the light patter of their footsteps sound their way up the rocky shore into the forest. From there they head southward across the small plain dividing the city of Soroth from the vast trees that cover the rest of the island.

  After a quarter of an hour, they reach the northeastern most part of the city, arriving at the city’s northernmost square; the same which houses the Sea Vistonia, the tavern visited by Iltar and the others three weeks prior.

  The square is busy, filled with horses, carriages and many affluent citizens. It was a custom for most of the Sorothian upper class to visit the tavern for all the meals of the day. After all, it was the chief notable attraction of that square as well as the northeastern side of Soroth.

  On the northeast corner of the square, between the fabled restaurant on the east and a market building to the north is an opening in the city wall. The stone hedge neatly stops short of the rocky coast. It was removed by request of the notorious tavern’s owner because it blocked the view to the northern part of the east shore and the sea beyond it. They called it a hindrance to the atmosphere they were attempting to create outside the establishment.

  Taking advantage of this, Cornar and the others make their way into the city by this small gap. The invisible warriors, mages and thieves travel through the alleys between buildings as they make their way to their leader’s home.

  A third of an hour later, the expedition reaches Cornar’s urban estate.

  The aged warrior’s home is nestled along a street not far from the northern walls of the city, and several blocks east of the Necrotic Order’s guild hall.

  The home is surrounded by a brown cement-like wall with hints of dull orange. A large circular gateway sits in the middle of the barrier just beyond the walkway separating the property from the street.

  Seeing only a few people in the area, Cornar edges up to the metal gate. Being cautious of the squeaking hinge, he gently guides it open. By unseen means the gate opens, as if by itself, then the light sound of footfalls can be heard passing through it.

  Within the estate’s walls is a beautiful garden, dotted with several trees, one to the left and the other two along the right. The leaves of the trees are still green, and the scene shows no hint of the cooling months.

  In the center of the garden, between the doorway to the home and the gateway to the street, is an oval fountain.

  From the gate, a stone path branches off in two directions; one runs along the wall and back toward the stables at the rear of the abode. The other leads to the basin of water, surrounds it then marks the way to the home.

  Placed squarely at the property’s center is a beautiful two-story home; it’s almost square in shape, its second story over the left and rear sides. Along the sloping roof to the right and front of the dwelling is a circular tower that rises just half a floor above its counterpart on the right.

  The home shares the same color as the exterior walls surrounding the garden, but with off-white highlights in the various window frames.

  Once within the walls of his estate, Cornar invisibly feels his way past those around him. He walks up to the raised and covered entry of his home then to the side by side wood and fogged glass doors that lead into the edifice.

  The door on the right side swings inward silently as Cornar opens it, stepping into the spacious entryway.

  Beyond the doors, golden beige covers the walls of the foyer. Streaks and dots of white accent the golden walls, giving the illusion of large stone slabs. Directly opposite of the doors are a partially curved stairwell that straightens out as it reaches the top and runs parallel to the door. The foyer’s ceilings vault to the top of the second story, allowing a view to the main doors from the hallway adjacent to the stairs.

  On either side of the foyer, two opened doorways lead to rooms adjacent to the entry hall. To the right of the doors is a squared lounge with an enclosed circular stairway leading up to the small tower seen from outside the home. Opposite the lounge is a larger room with several ornate chairs and sofas. This second room’s color is distinctly different than the entry and small lounge, with a peach tone covering the walls with the same stone illusion throughout.

  The party invisibly moves toward that room, where a young woman of slightly shorter than average height is busy dusting a piece of furniture and a mirror on the wall. She has shoulder length golden blond hair and is dressed in worn clothing; a custom most women from Soroth embrace when cleaning a home.

  Hearing the sound of the wood popping beneath someone’s feet, she turns toward the foyer and sees the door opened. Slightly frightened she moves forward but is abruptly barred by an invisible force. Halted, she lets out a soft squeal of fear then the men in the room and the entry appear.

  “Nilia,” Cornar calls out to the woman as he moves across the large parlor, “Calm down, everything is fine.”

  “Master Cornar, what’s going on?” the maid exhales shakily, her pale green eyes darting to each of the members of Iltar’s expedition. She moves around the men in front of her and toward Cornar. “You were not due home for weeks.”

  “Yes, we have returned early,” Cornar replies as Nilia stands in front of him and the warrior puts his hands on her shoulders to calm her. “We have urgent business with the council of the Necrotic Order. I need you to go get Midar and Cordel. Tell them there’s an emergency at the house.”

  “Okay…” Nilia mutters.

  “Don’t tell them I’m here, just get them to come back with you, and be quick!”

  Nodding her head, Nilia pushes past the men and some move out of her way. She runs out the door, leaving it wide open.

  Cornar motions for Aron to shut the door and as he does the party breaks up between the three rooms. All the while, faint footsteps of a lone man can be heard ascending to the small tower.

  Meanwhile, within the larger room, both thieves are admiring the décor of the space. The fabrics of the sofas and chairs are from Arbath, a city almost halfway around the world from Soroth. They have thick stripes of gold’s and red’s with small and large oval shaped designs lining the center of the stripes. The wood is ornately carved in a way that resembles the waves of the oceans.

  In front of where Nilia had been standing is a high cabinet with similar shapes carved into the edges of it; above the cabinet is a mirror with a wooden frame that matches the seating and storage pieces of the room.

  “Don’t even think about taking anything!” Cornar calls out to the thieves partially in jest, but knowing that they might have the gall to try.

  “We’re just looking…” Nath says as he sits on the sofa. “You have a beautiful place, Cornar.”

  “Thank you,” the warrior turns toward the rear of the room where another doorway leads to a dining hall. “Now, is there any food…?”

  After peaking his head into the room Cornar quickly recoils back with disappointment.

  The other eighteen men, minus the one who had ascended into Cornar’s private study, are scattered about the three rooms: The majority of the mages are congregated in the smaller parlor where they are briefly scanning their host’s collection of literature. Cornar’s men are resting on the chairs or standing watch at the home’s entry. Thin but tall panes of windows line the entry door, and two of the warriors, one on each side, watch the gateway.

  Pacing between the three rooms, Cornar carefully watches his companions; partially out of concern for his family’s things as well as ensuring everyone who disembarked the ship is with them.

  “They’re coming,” Aron whispers, aiming the announcement to Cornar.

  Through the panes, the warriors can see Nilia running through the garden, still shocked from her employer’s mystical appearance. Not far behind her are the two warriors, Midar and Cordel.

  A moment later, Nilia opens one of the large doors and stumbles into the foyer. The two warriors come in immediately behind her then Aron, who is standing near the small parlor, close
s the door.

  Once inside, Midar and Cordel look at Cornar with confusion; the latter standing near the stairwell to the second floor of the home.

  “Why are you back?” Midar asks with bewilderment smeared across his face.

  “I can’t tell you everything right now,” Cornar sternly shakes his head. “We have to hurry. Iltar is planning on killing the council and we need your help.”

  “What?!” Cordel cries out, “You two saved them just three weeks ago…”

  Ignoring his former student’s perplexity, Cornar continues, “We need to sneak inside the main hall. Our entire party here,” motioning to the men around him and in either room, “Will go up to the council chambers. However, we’re not doing that until all members of the council are gathered. Iltar is sending word for them to meet as soon as possible. Once the other six are there you’ll signal to Nemral, who will be concealed by his cloak just beyond the gates. That will require the both of you to be stationed outside, can you do that?”

  “Yes,” Midar replies. “I’ll tell the captain of the guard I want some fresh air. I’ve been inside all day as it is.”

  “Excellent, from there you will open the doors and we will sneak in. How many of the council members have you seen?”

  “Two,” Midar states then looks to Cordel for confirmation and the latter silently nods his head. “Alacor and Jalel. I haven’t seen any of the others in several days.”

  “Fine, I won’t keep you long in case you might miss them. Iltar should arrive shortly. Before you go, how many guards are there on duty?”

  “Five, besides us,” Cordel responds

  “Good, go and Nemral will be behind you,” Cornar looks to the large parlor and motions for the thief to come forward. He repeats the orders he gave his men, and the thief vanishes beneath his cloak before leaving the doorway.

  As the two warriors leave, Cornar takes a seat on the stairwell; he lets out a deep breath as he relaxes against the hard surface.

  “What’s going on?” Nilia asks as she steps near Cornar and leans against the wall.

  “Iltar is planning to overthrow the Necrotic Order. Their corruption will end today. Perhaps you will be able to learn the ways of conjuration once and for all,” Cornar replies as he looks up to the young woman with a smug smile. “Necromancy won’t be the only art taught there after today.”

  * * * * *

  Midar and Cordel run out of the gates to Cornar’s city estate. Their weapons bounce against their sides as they run through the open street. The course back to the guild hall takes them north to the first street from Cornar’s that runs in a westward and easterly direction. After turning to their left they then follow it for two Soroth blocks.

  As they run toward the last street that intersects the westward road before the Order’s gates, they see a shrouded figure; the warriors stop as they notice his sapphire eyes sharply glaring toward them, having heard their weapons clanging.

  “Master Iltar!” Midar cries out, “I’m surprised to see you.” Midar feigns his statement and motions with his eyes back toward Cornar’s residence.

  “Escort me to my Order’s hall my, young friends,” Iltar calmly beckons beneath the shadows of the shroud.

  The five men, two concealed by their shimmering cloaks, travel to the magical compound’s entrance. The gates are open, and the devious companions see two guards stationed as sentinels at the large doors leading into the main building. All is silent, except for Iltar and the others’ footfalls which sound against the stone path.

  “Inform the members of the council that I have returned,” Iltar shouts to the guard on the left who quickly opens the door respective to him. “And with grave news.”

  The guard who had opened the door nods his head and quickly steps through the doorway, moving toward the grand foyer of the building.

  “I’ll relieve you,” Midar says to the other guard and steps past Iltar to open the other door, allowing Iltar and his invisible companions to enter.

  Without a word, the guard nods his head and enters the building, making his way to the grand foyer and moving toward the corridor containing the guard’s barracks.

  Alone with his coconspirators, Iltar stops at the entryway, glancing over his shoulders, then to the two visible warriors.

  “I must attend to something in my office. Then I will see the others. Make sure no one leaves.”

  “Yes Master Iltar,” Midar and Cordel say in unison.

  With that said, Iltar walks inside his Order’s main hall, moving down the corridor to the grand foyer; the aforementioned space rises three stories and is lined with the same granite-like stone as the outside of the building. Pillars surround the edges of the gigantic room, supporting the upper floors and the rails of the balcony of the northern second story lounge. Crimson furniture lines the northern corners of the room. They are positioned around two pairs of double doors on either side of the northern walls of the grand foyer. Once those seats were occupied by students eager to learn the magical arts of Kalda; however, they had since become empty and silent over the years leading to Alacor’s predecessor’s ascendency to the guild master’s seat of the Sorothian Magical Order; a name which had since been stricken.

  The shrouded necromancer quickly walks across the center path, lined with a red carpet that shares a similar texture and shade as the furniture.

  Straight ahead, on the south side of the foyer, a wide stone stairwell rises several steps short of one story and leads to a landing; the landing sprawls half the width of the foyer, with two short pairs of steps on either side which lead to landings adjoining corridors on the second floor. The area under the stairs and the landing are exposed, supported by four pillars, larger than the ones that line the walls of the foyer. Along the southern wall are towering glass panes, both above and below the stairwell. At the top and center of the wall, a single circular glass window housing the Kaldean equivalents of the letters “N”, “O”, “S”. The “S” and “N” over lapping each other within the “O”.

  Iltar moves up the stairs, turning to his right and walking across the landing, the small flight of steps and the subsequent steps before entering an adjoining corridor.

  “We’re close,” the necromancer whispers.

  Several steps inside the corridor, Iltar passes a small hall on his left but continues forward. Immediately after, the corridor curves. On the left side of the larger circular wall are a pair of double doors.

  “That’s Alacor’s chambers,” Iltar points as he passes the doors. “Plant the text wherever you see fit.”

  Without hesitation, Iltar continues forward down the hall which straightens out. After passing several doors he turns to the left down a short hall that intersects the corridor lining the west walls of the building.

  Turning to the north and to his right, Iltar walks straightway for the series of stairs which he and Cornar had ascended weeks before to save the council.

  Once Iltar reaches the landing at the top of the stairs from below and the base of those ascending above, he stops; pointing to his right down another intersecting corridor, Iltar says, “There’s an area where you can wait, which is a lounge of sorts. You’ll be able to look here and down into the grand foyer, go.”

  Iltar continues to wait as he hears a single pair of footsteps, and the faint sound of another pair moving away from him. Once the pattering footfalls fade down the corridor, the shrouded figure moves toward the first step then ascends.

  Atop the highest floor, Iltar sees two members of the council; both Alacor and his younger brother Jalel are hurriedly walking to the doors of the council chambers.

  The elder necromancer opens the door and allows his younger brother to enter. As he holds the door open, Alacor glimpses the shrouded figure and his eyes narrow in response.

  “Iltar,” Alacor calls out. “What happened? You look miserable.”

  Approaching the doorway and the Order’s grandmaster, the plotting necromancer keeps his head low, averting the probing
eyes of his superior in title and authority only.

  “It was terrible… I-I will tell you when the others gather,” Iltar mumbles as he slides through the doorway, without brushing against Alacor or either of the doors.

  Still at the doors, Alacor’s brow furrows as he looks at Iltar, who is walking to his chair. The grandmaster then looks to his brother who has already taken his seat.

  “I was told you are the sole survivor,” Alacor demands as he enters the council chambers and walks around the table to take his seat. “At least preface what occurred.”

  Still covered by his cowl, Iltar stares at the table without a response. His features physically convey a sense of horrified shock.

  “It must have been horrendous for you,” Jalel says from across the table in a mildly mocking tone. “I can’t believe I would have lived to see the mighty Iltar seized by fear,” the younger council member laughs lightly.

  Alacor looks at his brother with an irritated gaze then back to Iltar with a more intrigued expression. The three necromancers sit in silence, waiting for their fellow member of the council to speak.

  After the space of an hour the last member of the council arrives, Kallan. He walks into the room, looking at Iltar then to the other five men who are seated. Still at the doors he asks as he closes them shut, “What’s happened? What did you encounter that was so powerful to leave you the sole survivor?”

  The door shuts and silence fills the council chambers.

  Raising his head, Iltar looks up to Kallan then to every other member of the Necrotic Order’s presiding authority, “Sit Kallan… and I will relate the plight.”

  * * * * *

  As Kallan was joining his brethren, each of the wooden and glass doors of Cornar’s home swing open.

  Alarmed, the aged warrior rises from the step he’s resting on, hastily darting past Nilia who is standing to his right. Cornar swiftly draws his serrated dagger and quickly drops into a defensive stance. Throughout the home the sound of other metal grinds as weapons are unsheathed.