Dawn of the Valiant (The Valerious Chronicles: Book One)

by Julian Saheed

Zephra Hermagoras laughed inside the Tomb, amongst the rotten and long forgotten corpses of the great men of Feldom. "Such fools," he muttered to himself. He walked past the bodies of the kings and generals of the past, through to the one thing that he was looking for.

  Since the storm, word of the failed attempt on the Maloreichar had reached him, but this did not bother him too greatly. He had achieved what he had wanted to and there was no power in this world strong enough to stop him now. His eyes, which had turned pitch black since his return from the Third Plane, spotted his target.

  Azbaar's body lay on a stone slab, surrounded by the decaying flowers that had been scattered around him during the funeral. Zephra walked up to the body and smiled, at least his men had managed one thing. He heaved the body off the stone slab and, using all of his might, lifted it onto his shoulder. Zephra then closed his eyes allowing a cloud of black mist to surround him. In an instant he was gone and the Tomb of the Moon was once again devoid of life.

  Zephra opened his eyes and smiled smugly as he saw the onyx altar of the Dungeon of Kahnustus. He would have never imagined teleportation over such a distance to be possible. But that was before he returned.

  He walked over and placed Azbaar's body onto the altar. Without delay he walked over to the fountain below the shrine and scooped up a bowlful of the murky water. The floor surrounding the altar was still stained with the congealed blood of the four disciples that died during his experiment. He returned to the altar and poured the water into Azbaar's mouth. Then, holding his hands over Azbaar's chest, Zephra began to pour magic into Azbaar's body, causing it to convulse in spasms.

  The magic coursed through the lifeless veins in Azbaar's body, replacing the dried blood and once again bringing life to his heart and brain. On the outside, Azbaar's skin began to bubble and melt, deforming his features and melding his armour to his body. A loud scream escaped his lips as he returned to Fellarrnur, pleasing Zephra. Boils and wounds began to appear on his face and his body expanded with each pulse of magic. His muscles grew to great proportions, stretching the hard metal of his armour and breaking it in several parts. After one final pulse, Zephra let go of Azbaar's body and it lay still on the altar.

  Slowly Azbaar began to breathe hoarsely, his deformed chest rising and dropping heavily. "Arise, my new servant," commanded Zephra, his eyes watching wickedly.

  Azbaar's eyes opened and stared at Zephra. His original eyes were gone, now completely black and dead. He rose from the altar and stood, towering over Zephra. What was once a proud and regal Feldonian was now a twisted and horrifying monster of a man. His suit of armour had been joined to his body as the magic had burned his skin and was now an extension of the former man. His face, though still recognizable, was mangled and terrifying to look upon.

  "Zephra," he said in a deep and foreboding voice that echoed through the shrine room.

  "Master!" replied Zephra.

  Azbaar nodded and dropped to one knee. He bowed low to the ground in front of Zephra and then raised his head. "Master."

  Zephra laughed gleefully. "Excellent," he mused.