As Midar was dealing with the advancing guards, the other two guards reach Nordal, but as they do one falls to the ground; the arrow in his neck takes the life out of him within seconds.
Seeing the other guard approaching, Nordal lowers his shoulder and rams the guard he is dueling, pushing him into the wall.
Nordal quickly turns and runs to the advancing guard, evading his swings as he moves within arm’s reach of the throne room sentinel.
In an instant, the skilled warrior strikes the guard on either side of the head with his lightly armored forearms. Immediately thereafter, the warrior spins to his left and lowers his sword in his right hand. He breaks his turn then closes the distance between him and his foe by lunging sideways, who is now slightly behind him.
While moving, Nordal throws his left arm down and brings it back up to brace his right wrist. With swiftness, he uses both arms to thrust his blade upward, reaching under the helmet and piercing the guard through his lower jaw.
As the guard knocked to the wall recovers, he runs to Nordal, who has already relinquished the life of the other guardsman.
The lifeless sentinel slumps on the warrior’s blade and Nordal uses his left hand to push him away, unsheathing his sword from the guard’s bloodied neck.
With finesse, Nordal dashes forward and parries the last guard’s weapon as he shuffles to the right; the two weapons cross in front of the guard with Nordal’s on top.
In a swift motion, the intruding warrior swings his armored forearm to the guard’s protected head and knocks him backward, causing his head to reel back and forth. As he does this, Nordal quickly spins to the right which releases his parrying blade and follows through by swinging his sword in a circular motion parallel to his body. At this moment, the guard’s head bounces forward, exposing the back of his neck; Nordal’s bloodied weapon swiftly circles upward, cutting into the guard’s skin and severing his head just before he lands on the gray tile; all this happening within a second.
As Midar and Nordal deal with the last of the throne room guards, Iltar gloats over the victimized baron. Each of the guards he had entangled has since been dissolved by the destructive magic, and their bodies lay as ash at Iltar’s feet.
“Now Cilgan, you will tell me where Balden is. If you don’t, I’ll dissolve your body from your feet up!”
“You-you planned all this! How did you know the details of this throne room?!” the Baron cries out in astonishment.
“Paranoid and stupid,” Tilthan’s voice sarcastically states from the shadows; the thief removes his cloak and appears at the right of the throne, revealing he was the one who had launched the volley of arrows at the guards.
“We didn’t know,” Cornar chimes in from in front of the throne. “We’re just that skilled.”
“Suit yourself then…” Iltar states as the binding magic slowly pulls Cilgan toward the necromancer.
“No, you’re not going to do this. If you kill me you won’t make it off this island alive!” Cilgan shouts partially out of fear and arrogance.
“Tilthan is right, you are stupid,” Iltar states the words in enjoyment of the situation.
The eyes of the Baron of Sereth widen as he approaches Iltar’s powerful magic. His boots slowly enter the eroding barrier and a burning sensation gnaws at his feet. He lets out a scream as the magic reaches his bare skin, and the pink flesh is slowly turned gray.
“Tell me!” Iltar’s eyes widen as the screaming lord of the castle continues to move closer and closer to him.
“Make it stop!” Cilgan wails in an agonizing sob, his voice reaching a higher pitch than before.
“I can make it stop if you just tell me where Balden is, well?!” Iltar impatiently taps his foot within the magical sphere.
“The lower dungeon! In the southern wing! You get there from the second floor tower! Please, stop it!” the baron’s voice twists with pain.
“Good…” Iltar says, ignoring Baron Cilgan’s screams, who is still being pulled into the sphere. The necromancer dissolves the magic around him and relinquishes his magical grasp on the Baron of Sereth, saying, “Secure the room, and let’s move down to the dungeon.”
Iltar walks away and back toward the double doors where Midar and Nordal have just leveled the last guard to the ground.
“Oh,” the necromancer calls out as he strides to the door, “And someone kill him.”
Meanwhile, Cornar menacingly stares at Cilgan while he descends the steps and tosses the shimmering cloak to Tilthan. The warrior runs both of his weapons along each other, creating a grinding sound and the blood on them drips onto the black carpet then onto Cilgan’s face. Once the warrior reaches Cilgan’s side, Cornar slowly swings his serrated dagger in the air above the baron’s body, from his stomach up to his chest.
“I hate you,” Cornar disgustedly snarls while looking down at Baron Cilgan then spits on his face, where the warm spit and life giving liquid from his guards mingles.
Cornar swiftly rear straight up and thrusts himself forward, stabbing the dagger deep into the baron’s stomach. The warrior’s face turns to a cold stare as the Baron gasps then cries out in pain. Cornar’s green eyes glare with disgust as he grates the serrated blade up Cilgan’s torso, following the same motion he traced earlier above the demented ruler’s body; the warrior snarls as he slowly carves through bone and flesh.
“This is for Ralin,” the words ooze from Cornar’s mouth as he brutally grates the weapon through Cilgan’s body.
The screams of the dying baron fill the room as his executioner meticulously carves him.
As Cornar’s serrated dagger grates through the lungs of the baron, the warrior quickly pulls it from the ruthless ruler who is dying a ruthless death.
Swiftly rising from the ground, Cornar lets out a loud yell and spins; he quickly lowers his other weapon down upon Cilgan’s neck, severing it from his body and his blood filled agonizing gasps for air cease.
Without a word, Cornar walks away from the scene and toward the doors of the throne room while Tilthan creeps forward to the lifeless decapitated body.
“You don’t suppose he has a treasury do you?” the thief calls out to the warriors and necromancer leaving the throne room.
Receiving no answer, the thief rummages through the bloodied clothing of the baron and finds several items; a key, a fist sized pouch and a small token. Tilthan quickly puts the key in his pocket then reaches for the token.
It is oval in shape with a gold rim and silver background. Within its center is a raised symbol of a winged creature. Tilthan runs his finger over the puffed up form and feels intricate grooves along the body. He looks closer and recognizes the features of the beast with some surprise. It is a dragon, a red dragon.
Tilthan pauses for a moment then he examines the small badge further. He flips it over but there are no other visible markings on the emblem. The thief quickly shoves the token into his bag and secures it, then runs after the men already out of the room.
* * * * *
Outside the castles walls, the four guards at the palace entrance are disturbed by a frantic servant, dressed in the typical garb of a chef; the chef is waving his arms and shouting as he crosses the bridge, “Whoever the Baron has as a guest is attacking him. I heard screams from over ten men coming from the throne room!”
“Are you sure?” the guard closest to the metallic rod gate demands, abruptly turning to face the servant running toward him.
“Yes, yes, I am!” the chef hurriedly states as he reaches the gate almost out of breath.
“Then go inform the captain of the guard in the city. We will go to the towers and light the signals,” the initial guard states and opens the gate.
The two guards nearest the gate rush along the bridge and the chef runs past them; all the while, the two remaining guards stand watch, anticipating their reinforcements and tracing the movements of the chef with their eyes.
As the chef is midway between the gate and the curve in the road, he is abruptly
lifted into the air by unseen means. He lets out a scream and frantically looks to either side but is quickly thrust to the dirt road, rendering him unconscious.
Seeing this, both guards rush to inspect the chef but they are knocked to the ground as they near the servant.
Immediately thereafter, the sound of swords sing through the air and race down to the exposed parts of the guards. They quickly let out screams but are silenced by the repeated blows from their unseen assailants.
“Well that was fun,” Kalder’s deep voice calls out from nothing but thin air. “I’m glad Tilthan’s gang let us use their cloaks.”
“Most definitely, I haven’t had this much excitement since before I joined the Guardians of Soroth,” Menal states, shrouded from sight by one of the thieves’ shimmering cloaks. “Let’s hide these bodies, and we should probably tie that one up,” referring to the chef they knocked out on the road.
The lifeless bodies of the two guards are lifted from the ground by the unseen warriors and are carried to the gate. It opens by invisible hands and shortly after each of the bodies are tossed into the watery barrier between the castle and the outside world. As the bodies hit the water they sink to the bottom of the mote.
A moment later, the chef is dragged along the bridge by the invisible warriors and back toward the castle.
“We need to disable the warning beacons,” Menal states as he and Kalder invisibly cross the bridge with the unconscious chef dragging behind them. “There are three of them, one in each of the towers. It doesn’t seem like anyone has alerted the men watching them.
“Master Iltar and the others must be causing quite a commotion in there,” Menal says the last with a tone of awe as the two invisible warriors walk through the courtyard.
“Menal, find something to tie this chef up with, then look for the others further inside. I’ll ascend to the tower above us.”
With that said, the unconscious body is drug to the doors of the castle then through the entrance’s threshold.
Once inside, Menal continues to drag the chef to the left side of the diamond shape foyer and Kalder can be heard quickly running to the rear of the castle.
Dying screams echo through the wide corridor as Kalder hastily runs through it and to the large circular chamber. The last screams reach his ears as he ascends the steps to his right and sees the source of the deathly wails; the two guards that had run inside just a moment before are lifelessly laying upon the second story’s southern landing. Iltar is standing over them and is lowering his hand while he sinisterly cackles, watching his victims’ bodies erode from his black magic.
The others are not far behind Iltar and are on the third story landing or coming down the stairs.
Seeing his companions, Kalder lets out the signaling whistle to alert Iltar and the others to his presence before speaking, “The area outside is clear. Menal is tying up the chef. They’ve lit none of the signal towers yet either. I’m moving to secure the western one above the entrance.”
“Perfect,” Cornar calls out as he leans over the rail of the circular landing on the third floor. “I’ll go to the left and secure that one. There wasn’t a way to the forward most tower from the throne room, it must be the stairs in the second floor corridor.”
“Understood Cor,” Kalder calls out and can be heard running toward the same corridor Cornar mentioned, passing underneath where his superior is standing.
At this same time, Tilthan reaches Cornar and taps him on the back of his shoulder with his knuckles, holding the warrior’s borrowed cloak in his hand. Cornar looks back and swipes the cloak then shrouds himself.
“Secure the tower on the right Tilthan,” Cornar says as he invisibly walks down the stairs to their left.
“Fine, but I want to find that treasury!” the thief calls out as he dons his cloak and rushes down the other stairwell behind Iltar, Nordal and Midar.
* * * * *
A few moments later, Iltar presses his way into the underground dungeon of the castle, descending several stairwells inside the southern tower without any interruption. Midar and Nordal are at his side as the three men enter the first corridor of the lower levels of the castle. A few steps away from the base of the stairs is a wide doorway leading to the dungeon, with both of its doors wide open.
Beyond the doorway, a guard sitting at a table to the left of the door immediately looks up as the three intruders enter the dungeon. “What are you doing here?”
“Die!” Iltar shouts as he turns to face the guard, uttering the words of an incantation; hearing the mystical words, Midar moves from the necromancer’s left back toward the doorway. In that same moment, a spray of yellowish-green magic bursts from Iltar’s palm and materializes into burning acid as it reaches the guard’s face.
Struck by the acidic magic, the sentinel withers in pain as the acid seeps through his skin and he attempts to peel the burning magic away.
With the guard incapacitated, Iltar quickly turns back to the corridor and leaves the guard to die from the acid burning through his skull.
Midar looks down at the guard screaming in pain as he passes by to catch up to Nordal and Iltar.
“Balden!” the necromancer calls out as he moves down the hall. “Where is that boy…?” Iltar continues to move down the prison corridor calling the name of his former apprentice, looking into each of the cell doors as he passes. “Balden! It’s Iltar! Where are you?!
“Balden!”
Frustrated, the necromancer pounds on the door nearest him and Nordal continues onward. Iltar looks back along the corridor then mutters, “Perhaps I shouldn’t have kille–”
“Iltar!” a faint voice abruptly draws the necromancer’s attention, calling out from behind a door further down the hall. “I’m in here!”
Hearing Balden’s cry, Iltar turns around and chases after Nordal who is running toward the half elf’s beckoning.
“I’m in here!” the masculine voice continues to call out accompanied with pounds against the door.
Nordal is the first to reach the recessed wooden cell door and turns the handle to open it, but to no avail. Seeing that it’s locked, the warrior takes a step back and shouts, “Move away from the door!”
Nordal kicks the door with the heel of his boot. He repeatedly forces his strength and weight into the door which gives way as the necromancer reaches the warrior’s side.
Within the cell, sitting atop a small bed against the far wall, is Balden. He is a young half elf in his mid twenties dressed in long black robes with long blonde hair down to his shoulders, covering his elven ears. It is combed neatly and is perfectly straight. He has a thin and pointed face, along with a long pointed nose. His cheeks are thin and their bones barely are visible along his slender face. Balden’s vibrant blue eyes are much like Iltar’s; Nordal, who is standing in the doorway, notices them and is genuinely taken aback.
Iltar arrives at the opened doorway and looks at the scene beyond the ruined threshold. When his eyes fall on his former apprentice at the back of the room, the necromancer gives him a partially heartfelt smile. Balden had been like a son to him all those years ago. It was a time when Iltar was not as consumed by achieving power as he is now. The older necromancer shakes his head at the sight of the young half elf before him.
“My have you grown,” the words trail off with a taint of admiration from Iltar’s lips.
Midar appears at Iltar’s side in time to witness the reunion.
Seeing his former master in the magical arts, Balden stands, returning Iltar’s smile in kind and walks toward the doorway. The half elf necromancer glances to both of the warriors standing on either side of the older of the two magic wielders.
“I take it this is not a social visit?” Balden asks with a raised brow.
“That’s right,” Nordal states smugly.
“Come,” Iltar states as he reaches forward and motions with his hand for Balden to come near him. “We need to get out of here quickly.”
Once Balden nears,
Iltar wraps his arm around his former apprentice’s shoulder and the four of them walk back toward the stairwell ascending from the dungeon.
“I have terminated your contract with Baron Cilgan,” Iltar states calmly.
“How?!” Balden interrupts, almost shouting, he says the next with a tone full of anger. “The council banished me here to work with that swine for forty years! I can remember their words…”
“My, has your voice deepened,” Iltar smiles before continuing, mostly out of perceiving Balden’s tone. “But now, I am the council, my young friend.”
“What?! Tell me what’s going on, Iltar. I don’t hear anything besides the screams of dying men I’m forced to torture for information. You wouldn’t believe the things they made me do when I first began…”
“Oh I’m sure I can,” the necromancer affirms to his former apprentice. “I will attempt to retell everything from several months ago.”
As they quickly walk back through the dungeon, Iltar tells Balden the story of his rise to power, leaving out details he would tell him later in private.
Once the quartet is partway up the stairs leading from the dungeon, a signaling whistle bounces off the stone walls encasing the stairwell.
“Is that the boy you were after?” Tilthan demands from beneath his cloak.
“Yes, this is Bal–”
“Balden! Do you know where the treasury is?” the words excitedly leave the thief’s mouth.
The half elf looks around for the source of the invisible voice before answering hesitantly, “Yes… its behind the throne room.”
“Ugh… We were just there. Okay, I’ll meet you down at the ferry,” Tilthan states as his voice trails off without the sound of footsteps.
“You better get me something!” Nordal calls and chuckles.
After several minutes, Iltar and his three other companions traverse the diamond foyer and move through the doors at the front of the castle. The afternoon light beams down on the peaceful ward, shining on the faces of the quartet. As they emerge, Balden is the only one that shields his eyes against the brightness of Kalda’s sun.
The Dark Necromancer Page 35
