Looking either way, Iltar proceeds forward into the grand foyer, mimicking the path his personal illusion walked over an hour ago. His quick gait takes him across the red velvet like carpet and up the stairs. As he turns to the right to ascend that section of the grand stair, Iltar looks northward and into the opened second story lounge. Raising his hand, he motions toward the direction before him.
Once atop the second floor, Iltar strides through the corridor, following it as it curves; however, he stops midway in the turn at the doors to Alacor’s chambers.
After several seconds, Iltar hears the rushing sound of footsteps.
“Kalder, Tilthan, do your job, then meet the others above on the fourth floor. Kill any guards if they discover you and we will dispose of them privily.”
With his instructions given, Iltar walks down the corridor, leaving the two men to do their work.
“Understood, Master Iltar,” Kalder whispers underneath his borrowed cloak as the necromancer walks away.
After a short while, Iltar ascends the stairwell to the fourth floor, seeing the members of his expedition busily maintaining the hold on the doors to the council chambers. At the sight of his companions, Iltar lets out the signaling whistle common among his band.
The necromancer walks past Nath, who is standing at the corner where the north and west corridors intersect; the thief briefly glances to Iltar then resumes his scanning of the northern hall and the stairs Iltar had just ascended.
Nearing his companions, Iltar removes his cowl and casually steps toward Cornar, who is pacing back and forth between the warriors and the mages securing the door.
“Finally you decide to show,” Cornar says as his friend draws near, “I was beginning to wonder if you were just going to watch through your illusion.”
“They took awhile to dispel it…” Iltar chuckles, “But I wouldn’t miss killing them for anything.”
With that said, Iltar glances near the doors where Hagen, Hex, Tinal and Renal are completely focused on maintaining the magic sealing the doors. The three wizards have pooled their magical prowess together to form a dense sheet of ice that has encased the doors and frozen them shut. Magical ice has seeped into the cracks of the doors and sealed the threshold to become air tight. The illusionist is assisting by using a spell to hold the hinges and knobs in place. Their focus is intensely honed on maintaining the door until they receive the word that the men inside are dead.
“I’m going in,” Iltar says as he walks toward the anteroom south of the council chambers. “When they’re dead I’ll emerge from the secret passage.”
Upon entering, Iltar sees Nordal standing watch near the door. Behind the warrior, Amendal and Dith are poised in concentrating postures on the floor opposite the wall of the bookshelves and the hidden doorway. Clodin stands just in front of them and glances to Iltar with a simple nod of the head.
“Stop your conjuring!” Iltar barks. “I’m going in there to finish them off myself!”
“Toroth and Velkor are already dead,” Amendal says through his trance-like stare.
“How pathetic,” Iltar disgustedly comments as he steps through the doorway.
A hellish pandemonium reaches Iltar’s ears as he moves through the secret passageway. The hidden door is swung wide open and Iltar can see the legendary conjured creatures attacking the remaining necromancers and their conjured minions.
The minions are somewhat humanoid with reptilian features, including a tail; they stand shorter than the average height of a man and have a strong ivory exoskeleton which lines their limbs. The bones along their arms are jagged and come to a razor-sharp point. Beneath the exterior bones is a dull red scaly skin.
Scattered about the room, the table and chairs have been tossed aside and wildly propped against the walls of the council chambers.
Several of the creatures conjured by Amendal are laying dead on the floor, cut in pieces from the razor-like minions summoned by the two necromancers. The mage’s parasites’ purple blood fills the cracks between the floor and runs along the grooves between the stone slabs.
On the far north side of the room, Jalel and Alacor are quickly casting acid based spells; several of the conjured minions of the other two necromancers act as a barrier between them and the parasitic monstrosities.
Before stepping through, Iltar seethes the black magical mist from beneath his pores and a necrotic sphere of protection takes shape.
As the acidic bolts fly through the room, the mage’s parasites swat the magics out of the air with their tentacle tongues, absorbing them through the large pores in their slithery organs. Once the magic is absorbed, the conjured creatures faintly glow with a yellowish-green hue which increases as they further absorb more of the magic.
Amid their consumption, the mage’s parasites unleash the re-purposed magic through the slits in their palms upon the conjured minions; however, the glowing hue continues to grow.
“That’s surprising,” Iltar laughs as he steps into the council chambers. “I didn’t think he was intelligent enough to attempt to overload them.”
Iltar’s attention is drawn to the doors, where Kallan continues to focus on bringing additional creatures through the yellowish mystical portals.
Seeing this, Iltar raises both of his hands to eye level and splays his fingers in a wide gripping gesture; without incantation, the black magic from within his body swirls above his palms into two globes of darkness. Once they form, Iltar hurls the dissolving magic toward Kallan and the usurping necromancer utters an incantation.
With incredible speed, the globes of darkness collide with the summoning necromancer’s greenish protective barrier, a form of barsion magic mixed with acidic and pestilent mystical energies. The protective sphere flickers as Iltar’s magic breaks apart the barsion bound particles; thus distracting Kallan briefly from maintaining focused control over his conjured minions.
In that moment, one of the conjured parasites breaches the wall of the summoned minions; it wildly darts through the opening and reaches Kallan and his magical barrier.
Once in arm’s reach, the mage’s parasite flails its tongue across the protective magic and absorbs part of it. Almost immediately after it digests part of the acidic barsion, the conjured parasite unleashes like magic through its palms and further weakens Kallan’s protective sphere.
At this same time, two of the mage’s parasites breach the minions protecting Alacor and Jalel. The mage’s parasites dash forward and thrust their arms into Jalel’s protective barrier, siphoning the magic; as they feed off the barsion the protection weakens. Each of the slits in the creatures torsos open to let out a putrid stench, which cripples Jalel from moving.
With his incantation finished, green magical tentacles rush from Iltar’s dark sphere; the magic races toward twelve of the thirty some odd minions guarding Kallan and Melnor, grasping the creatures and pulling them toward Iltar’s decaying barrier.
As the entangled minions are drugged toward Iltar, several of the mage’s parasites dart through the opening and thrust themselves into the magic protecting the two summoning necromancers; the conjured parasites siphon the mingled barsion and acidic magics then re-purpose the destructive energies in the form of acidic orbs, launching them against the summoned minions.
While the fray intensifies at the doors, Iltar turns his attention to Alacor and his brother. The usurping necromancer quickly brings his left hand toward his chest and utters another incantation.
All the while, each of Melnor and Kallan’s entangled conjured minions are quickly pulled toward the necrotic sphere of protection; the nearest hits the black watery barrier and turns to dust. Seeing this, the other entangled summoned creatures let out shrills and struggle to break free of Iltar’s hold to no avail.
Meanwhile, more green tentacles lash from Iltar’s palm and grasp a majority of the minions protecting Alacor and Jalel. The usurping necromancer pulls his newly entangled victims around the mage’s parasites and into his dissolving barrier.
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With his free hand, Iltar raises it above his head and utters another incantation; yellowish-green magic wisps together and coalesces into a large sphere of acidic magic which presses against the inside of the necrotic sphere of protection.
As Iltar’s magic coalesces, several of the glowing mage’s parasites rush toward Alacor.
However, the grandmaster of the Necrotic Order unleashes a flurry of acidic orbs which strike Amendal and Dith’s conjurations; the parasites glow brightly and stumble to the ground, overwhelmed by Alacor’s magical assault.
At this moment, Iltar notices the barsion magic around Jalel fading; the usurping necromancer quickly hurls the large swirling sphere of acid toward the younger council member; greater than the one flung at his illusion earlier.
Iltar’s magic crashes against Jalel’s fading barrier and parts of it break apart and fly onto the younger necromancer’s leg.
Jalel lets out an agonizing scream, and he gives way before the spell, collapsing to the stone floor.
However, just before he lands on the ground, the nearest of the mage’s parasites lowers itself and reaches forward with its large tongue; the slithery organ swiftly wraps around Jalel’s chest and partially around his neck.
In complete terror accompanied with pain, Jalel screams and thrashes about as he tries to break free of the towering gray horror.
Once Jalel is in its grasp, the conjured parasite’s straightens up, dangling the necromancer above the floor; the creature gently slides the forked pars of its tongue along the necromancer’s neck and jaw, leaving warm secretions upon his skin.
Further scanning the battle, Iltar quickly glances to the doors, where Amendal and Dith’s conjurations have stripped the magic protecting Kallan and Melnor. Both necromancers are grasped in similar manner to Jalel and the mage’s parasites holding them have their backs turned to the doors; they use Kallan and Melnor as shields from the conjured minions.
“Perfect!” Iltar snarls then swiftly and elegantly utters the words of an incantation; whitish-blue magic dances between his opened palms; however, as the magic gathers, Iltar can hear Alacor mustering forth a spell much akin to the one unleashed by Igan before his demise on the Dragon’s Isle.
Iltar glances to his right, noticing a plethora of small acidic orbs dancing around Alacor; they grow in intensity each passing second.
“Impressive,” Iltar mutters then unleashes the magic in his hands.
Streaks of magical lightening instantly dance from Iltar’s palms and into his necrotic sphere of protection, gathering black particles as it moves. The magical lightening, mingled with the dissolving particles, instantly flies across the room and strikes the two summoning necromancers in the chest with a thunderous roar; in an instant, the lightening further penetrates their parasitic captors.
Kallan and Melnor become limp without a cry and Iltar’s black magic erodes at their chests, dissolving their clothes, skin and other bodily tissues in a spreading pattern. With their demise, their conjured minions fearfully disperse from the mage’s parasites battling with them.
At that same moment, the mage’s parasites holding the necromancers glow with a whitish-blue hue; they drop the lifeless corpses in their grasp and rapidly extend their arms. With twisted smiles upon their five pointed lips, the parasites aim their hands toward the uncontrolled reptilian minions and release Iltar’s perfectly re-purposed magic.
The usurping necromancer grins and cackles at the sight of his former brethren’s lifeless corpses but his diabolical glee is cut short. The black magic around him flickers as a plethora of Alacor’s acidic projectiles impact upon the necrotic sphere.
“Amendal! Dith!” Iltar calls out then stretches his hands toward his protective barrier, which is fading from Alacor’s assault.
Amid Iltar’s cry, Alacor’s magic continues to bombard the necrotic sphere of protection.
With a snarl across his face, Iltar seethes black magic from his pores to reinforce the barrier. As the mist leaves his body, four of the eight surviving mage’s parasites come to the usurper’s aid. However, the assaulting spell from Alacor shatters Iltar’s protection.
Surprise smears across Iltar’s face, and the necromancer throws himself backward in an instant reflex; as he falls the four mage’s parasites around him swat the acidic orbs, catching most of them. However, two of the acidic magical projectiles race past the parasites and down upon Iltar.
With the black dissolving particles in his grasp, Iltar quickly throws his hands toward the whizzing orbs, catching them against his eroding mist.
Iltar lets out a rage induced yell as he fights the push of the acidic magic. In that moment, more of the black mist seethes from every pore of his body, bathing him in a deathly hue.
Amid his defensive efforts, Iltar glances to his right and notices several other orbs plummeting just a fraction of a phineal above the stone floor; the magic veers, flying toward him and weaving between the mage’s parasites’ legs.
Just as the flying projectiles come within arm’s reach of Iltar, the mist around his body violently expands; each of the orbs penetrate the mist and rapidly shrink in size but not before impacting upon Iltar’s robe. The acidic magic pierces through the woven cloth of his tunic and burns his skin. All this happening within a second.
In response to the burning sensation, Iltar lets out a painful cry as the wave of black mist continues forming into a new necrotic sphere of protection.
Meanwhile, each of the four mage’s parasites around him brightly glow a vibrant yellowish-green and wobble for a moment then collapse.
“How dare you?!” Iltar yells and rises to his feet, immediately looking toward Alacor.
The grandmaster of the Necrotic Order has fallen to his knees, heavily gasping for air.
Iltar quickly glances to the fallen mage’s parasites with narrowed eyes; the large pores along their body uncontrollably twitch. From the slits in their palms, purple blood trickles onto the stone floor; the blood gradually grows and causes the strange life giving liquid to pool beneath the dying conjurations.
“I didn’t know you had that in you,” Iltar angrily snarls; he opens his right hand and seethes his black magic, swirling it around in his palm to form a globe of darkness.
Once it takes shape, Iltar walks across the room toward Alacor, stepping over the bodies of the dead conjurations which decay in the wake of his dissolving sphere of protection.
Throughout the rest of the room, the melee between the mage’s parasites and the conjured minions ceases; the last of the summoned reptilian creatures is struck down by two of the conjured parasites.
With their foes vanquished, both surviving mage’s parasites wildly dash across the council chambers, leaping over the bodies of the dead and past Iltar. They swiftly dart to Alacor who is still kneeling upon the stone floor.
“I’ll enjoy killing you,” Iltar states as he stops in front of Alacor’s fading protective spell which is being siphoned by the mage’s parasites. “But not before you see your pathetic younger brother wither before my power!”
“Please Iltar,” Alacor begs and tiredly blinks as the magic fades about him. “We… can serve… you.”
“How pathetic!” Iltar condescendingly growls and glances to Alacor then gently flicks his right hand toward Jalel.
In response to Iltar’s gesture, the globe of darkness glides to Jalel’s face and slowly dissolves the outer layer of his skin.
“Hold him,” Iltar commands the creature then turns to Alacor and sinisterly barks, “Do you see that? I’ll let you watch how his tanned complexion turns a dull gray, then how the magic will eat away to his sinews and finally his skull.”
Looking up to Iltar, Alacor tiredly mutters as he struggles to rise to his feet, “Iltar… Cho’k su’za… Cho’k!”
“What?” Iltar angrily furrows his brow at Alacor who falls to the floor, laying almost prostrate before the dark necromancer.
“Please Iltar!” Jalel cries out from the loosening grip
of the magical parasite, “Let me go! Let me live, I’ll do anything to serve you! I will help you with whatever you need!”
“Silence fool!” Iltar darts a glance to Jalel
Jalel’s plea only strengthens Iltar’s hatred for him and he mentally pushes the globe deeper into his face. The middle aged necromancer screams in agony as the magic slowly rips apart his flesh.
“Please… stop this Iltar!” Alacor cries out between panting breaths. “You’ve already won. You bested us, please let us live… we… we can arrange something!”
“Arrange something?!” Iltar blurts out with rage, “I, I am in control here. I say when I want to arrange something!”
With that shouted, Iltar reaches down toward Alacor and lessens the density of his black destructive protection. With its dissolving power eased, the demonic sphere envelopes part of the grandmaster’s body, including his arm nearest Iltar. The dominant necromancer grabs the slowly withering arm as Alacor cries out in agony.
Holding the dead and decaying limb by the wrist Iltar leans forward and shouts, “I am the council! I decide your fates! Today I am your god!”
Expressions of hatred fill Iltar’s face as he menacingly glares at Alacor who is facing away, still in pain.
“Look at me!” Iltar bellows, “Look at me!”
As hate smears across his face, Iltar rises from the ground and rips Alacor’s withered arm from his body. The Necrotic Order’s grandmaster screams with increasing intensity as Iltar moves back.
The dark and demented necromancer, filled with rage induced pleasure, holds his former superior’s decayed left arm, which has been reduced to bone and a few rotting sinews.
With a pleased expression upon his face, Iltar tosses the limb aside and watches Alacor rock back and forth on the ground as if shaking the pain from his body. The left side of the defeated necromancer’s torso and part of his leg are decayed from the dissolving barrier; tears stream down Alacor’s face as he looks to his brother, who himself is in great agony.
The Dark Necromancer Page 25
