The Necromancer's Reckoning: Chapter 7 and 8

Chapter 7

The fourth dose of poison had died off after six hours of living hell. Valdor tried to keep quiet so the Goulrath didn’t hear him and refill his blood with another dose.

Never in Valdor’s life had he suffered so much pain. Not even the greatest of alchemists in Axion could have conjured up such an excruciatingly painful poison. Scarab Posion the Goulrath had called it. Valdor came to the conclusion that it had to be the most deadly poison in all of Axion. It hadn’t killed him, but he felt on the verge of death. Valdor had felt death’s finger tips touching his heart, ready to consume his soul. But Valdor was strong.

Valdor had been within the confines of the Goulrath camp for a two days and one night. He already missed home. Valdor’s home was the open road. The cities, the towns, the villages, the adventures, the people. He wanted it all back. He wanted to look up at the stars in the night sky one more time. He wanted to a local tavern and get drunk one more time. He wanted to lay eyes upon a woman one more time. He wanted to be happy one more time.

The Afterlife could wait for another couple of days. Today was not the day to die.

Valdor had seen so much on his travels. But not everything. There were still mountains to climb, strange kingdoms to explore, cities to roam and people to meet.

I am never going to travel to Alvar…

The Kingdom of Alvar was a sacred place and home to the three ancient races: elf, dwarf and drakonian. No man had ever laid eyes upon them since the Age of Dragons, thousands of years ago. Valdor had read in books that they were once great rulers of the land and lived in harmony until the Age of Mortals where the mortals landed in Axion and exiled the three ancient races into the Kingdom of Alvar, never to be seen again. The three races, once powerful beings remained hidden behind Cladmir’s Gate where no one leaves and no one enters.

It had been Valdor’s dream to be the first man to enter Alvar for the first time in thousands of years. Valdor the Explorer… It has a ring to it. Thought Valdor smiling.

Valdor had seen sketches of what the three races were thought to have looked like. In the book he had read, it was said that the elves were tall and slender with delicate features and pale skin. They were elegant warriors who fought with efficiency and grace. Their race where hidden north of Alvar, in the Springs of Coloria.

The second race was the dwarves. They were small and usually bearded. They were known to be fierce warriors, bred for battle. They were known for their mining of special gems and their craftsmanship. The dwarves lay to the south of Alvar in the Mines of Allagor. Valdor read somewhere that if one ventures close enough to Alvar’s magical borders, you can hear the dwarven pickaxes chipping at the rock.

The third race was the drakonians who were large mortal-like beings; however, they were covered in scales and had a spiked tail that sprouted from behind them. Their scales came in different colours, patterns and sizes however all were strong as steel. Drakonians had been known to be descendants of dragons and fierce warriors. The drakonians were gathered in the Kloridian Mountains.

The three races were so elegant and mysterious that Valdor’s curiosity could not be contained. The Three Ancient Races never allowed mortals into their kingdom. The three races had a holy alliance and never battled one another. As a force combined they could topple humanity and drive them out of this realm and out of Axion. The three races could reclaim their land and bask in their former glory. But yet they lay in Alvar, behind Cladmir’s gate, in deep slumber.

The ancient races had fallen into myth and legend, much like the Goulrath. Most believed they were extinct but there was clear evidence of their existence. Valdor couldn’t understand why the ancient races didn’t reclaim their land of Axion. When the humans landed on the shores of Axion and invaded, they outnumbered the ancient races greatly and managed to topple their line of kings and restore a new order upon the land. It has been said that the time of the Age of Ancients was so harmonious that when the mortals invaded the shores of Axion, the three races were so inexperienced in war that they were easily defeated.

But now, the three ancient races were a combined force of unstoppable power. With the elves having their skill, wisdom and sorcery, the dwarves having their might, blacksmithing and craftsmanship along with the drakonians having their strength and swordsmanship, they would be a force to be reckoned with and would make humanity tremble before them.

Yet they lingered in hiding for thousands of years.

It baffled Valdor. Valdor knew that the rebellion of the ancient races would mean Valdor’s death and ultimately, humanity’s extinction. But Valdor thought it would be an honour to live in the age where the ancient races emerged from hiding and reintroduced themselves back into the land of Axion.

The Goulrath however, was a race he would very much not like to return to the realm of Axion. Valdor knew now. Valdor knew what the Goulrath really were. He knew that they were heartless creatures and ruthless savages who killed and tortured for fun.

If Valdor ever was released from his bindings and given the chance to be free, he would walk straight into the palace of Eldermere and inform King Rupus to muster his armies and march into the Forbidden Lands to slay all Goulrath that walk the land. Valdor imagined it through his mind. Images of Realmguard decapitating and maiming the Goulrath forces. He imagined shining swords going through their chests and them screeching in pain.

Valdor felt tired and weary. His bones ached and his flesh stung. His head was rattled with exhaustion. He wanted to sleep but whenever he drifted to sleep the Goulrath would violently wake him. Every time the Goulrath did not accept his claim that he was innocent, anger made his blood boil. He wanted to stand up, draw a sword and kill every last one of them.

They had driven him to insanity. Four doses of poison and no word of who he worked for was surely enough evidence to imply that he was innocent. He was sixteen and dressed in cheap rags and they expected him to be a spy for the so-called Sorcerer’s Guild. He did have a clue what that had to do with anything. Valdor knew that there weren’t many sorcerers around Axion these days, not since the elves were exiled but a few humans were trained by the elves before they were banished to Alvar. These humans must have formed some sort of guild of magicians and taught everything they knew to the next generation and the guild must have lived on throughout the ages. Magic was illegal and punishable by exile these days and no one wanted any involvement with sorcerers.

The Sorcerer’s Guild must be a serious threat to the Goulrath. They seemed terrified of them and Valdor heard many shouts and cries from outside the tent about how the Guild was going to attack sooner or later.

Valdor felt tension within the camp. The two Goulrath who had guarded the tent I was in, were sent to join the other Goulrath and guard the perimeter for any scouts or surprise attacks.

Security was on the rise within the Goulrath camp. Valdor prayed that the Realmguard would raid the camp and slay every one of them. The Goulrath unorganized, messy, and were not military trained. The Realmguard could have every Goulrath killed within minutes.

But it was not likely going to happen. Valdor was going to starve to death here in this tent with poison coursing through his veins. It was a pessimistic prediction but it was realistic. The future wasn’t looking bright. Valdor doubted he would ever see another mortal again. The last being he would ever see would be a stinking Goulrath edging a dagger to his neck.

Valdor wanted to cry. He wanted to burst into tears and moan and wail. But he couldn’t let the Goulrath acquire that kind of satisfaction. The Goulrath thrived off misery and torment of others. If he started to cry he would tell them that he had lost and he would suffer more pain than ever before. Valdor didn’t want more pain. He wanted to get out of this Goulrath camp alive. He wanted that more than anything in the world.

It was in the past few days he had realised how happy he used to be. Valdor had begun to take for granted what he had before but his encounter with the Goulrath had changed everything.

Valdor had given up thinking of an escape plan. Previously, he had attempted to dig under the tent and crawl out with his hands bind behind his back and his legs tied together. The only thing he achieved was dirty finger nails and a pile of mud. The Goulrath caught him while he dug rapidly and had beaten him a bit more. It had all seemed worthless.

Valdor tried to cling onto any thread of hope. It was the very substance that kept him alive. As long as there was a small segment of hope to latch on, Valdor knew he would live to see another day.

Chapter 8

The Goulrath have returned, Rupus thought to himself, grievously.

The legendary beings which had been in hiding for hundreds of years and now they were retuning with a vengeance. Rupus read Korsay’s scrawled notes again and again and every time he did so, the future seemed bleaker.

The Goulrath are 50,000 strong. The Realmguard cannot compete with this…Rupus thought ashamedly.

King Rupus’ head pounded. Korsay had also mentioned the dark necromancer, Void. This was worrying news. Rupus had presumed that the necromancer had grown old and quiet during the years of his banishment. He had been in exile for eight decades. He swore to return and bring Axion to ashes. King Herald had ignored his oath, foolishly.

Rupus didn’t know what to do next. He always had a plan but now, he didn’t know what action to take next. Should he march his forces across the borders of the Forbidden Lands and strike while the news was fresh? Should he send a scout team? Should he try and reason with Void? Or should he do nothing?

Too many bloody choices and too little time…

Rupus didn’t want to make the wrong move. One false move could reduce Axion to a wasteland. Rupus needed to look strong and defiant, yet still trying to prevent a war. War was the last thing Axion needed.

However, Rupus was not completely inexperienced to the art of war. The Citadel’s Rebellion almost fifty years ago forced him to declare war and send the Realmguard to crush the uprising. However, that was a war that lasted a mere three years. This war would likely last a lifetime. Too much was at stake and too many lives were at risk.

Maybe if Rupus gained more allies, the Goulrath would be threatened and shy away back to their ravaged lands across the border in the north. If Rupus had a larger force with more allies, the Goulrath wouldn’t dare set foot south of the Forbidden Lands. Void was an insane necromancer, but he was not a fool. No necromancer could ever challenge an army so large.

Maybe Rupus could call upon the ancient races?

If the three ancient races joined Rupus’ side, he would be unstoppable. The elves, dwarves and drakonians had more power than any other being in Axion. However this was fool’s wish. The three races lay deep within Alvar and if they were emerged back into this world where many people believed that they never existed, it would cause anarchy. After five thousand years of not a single sighting of one of the ancient races, even Rupus could assume that they were all dead. They were simply tales for children at bedtime, these days.

There had to be some other force he could call upon? Maybe the desert tribes in the Nesada desert could help? The legendary Rorkaii were famous for their skill with blades. However, they hadn’t meddled in wars within the realm since the Age of Mortals. They were good fighters but unorganized, savages and wouldn’t be able to distinguish the line between friend and foe. The desert tribes were the wrong choice of ally. They had no place among the Realmguard.

There was one place he could trust. They were fierce warriors, well-disciplined and powerful. They were few in number but it would make a fine addition to the Kings army. The Goulrath would tremble at their feet.

The Sorcerer’s Guild.

Their magic would frighten the Goulrath and send them fleeing back to the depths of the Forbidden Lands from whence they came. The Sorcerer’s Guild hadn’t been in service of the King since his father waged war against the Necromancer Legion over eighty years ago. The Sorcerer’s Guild went to hiding, much like the three ancient races. They mastered the arts of sorcerery in peaceful harmony in their tranquil paradise of the Glade, to the north-east. The Elders in the Sorcerer’s Guild were able to track presence of magic in mortals across Axion. Youths as young as seven were still being taken in by the Sorcerer’s Guild for training. Their forces were growing by the day.

King Rupus didn’t agree with the Sorcerer’s Guild and their way. Rupus didn’t agree with anything that he didn’t understand. The Sorcerer’s Guild were too spontaneous, unpredictable and far too powerful. It seemed hypocritical that he should make the use of magic illegal but still call upon their ancient order for help but these were desperate times. Although they had been out of the King’s service for many years, now was the time King Rupus needed them most.

The Sorcerer’s Guild was experienced in slaying monsters of all kind. They frequently went out near the Forbidden Lands to slay many foul beats to train their students in the art of combat. Trolls, ogres, goblins, werewolves and even some vampires had been found dead near the border many times with no flesh wounds, only searing burn marks. The fires of magic.

King Rupus knew that the Sorcerer’s Guild would never miss a chance to battle an ancient foe from the Forbidden Lands. The Sorcerer’s Guild would also be able to battle their old nemesis, Void. Necromancy was an oddity among the sorcerers in the Glade. Some are born with magic that is darker than any other. Some people are born necromancers and it can corrupt a person’s mind up to the brink of madness. Void was one of those people.

When Rupus was a boy, King Herald had told him that the Sorcerer’s Guild had mostly been elves when it first started, thousands of years ago, but when the elves were exiled from Axion to the small cities within the Springs of Coloria, the humans were the only ones left in the Glade, and they had to rebuild the Sorcerer’s Guild from scratch. They hired men with a presence of magic deep within them to join the Guild and serve them loyally. The Guild gradually got bigger and better until it was finally restored to its former glory. The Guild had flourished ever since. The Sorcerer’s Guild had won many battles for the King’s Guard and saved Axion from peril.

The Sorcerer’s Guild had to be the King’s ally. The Realmguard had become weak, filled with old men who had long past their prime. The army needed a new push if they were to face a threat such as the Goulrath. The Realmguard was supposed to be an elite fighting force but Rupus knew that few volunteered to be a Realmguard.

If the Goulrath attacked any city or town, Rupus would send his Kingsguard and the Sorcerer’s Guild to accompany the Realmguard in the battle. Rupus would let the Goulrath make the first move, then strike.

The only problem Rupus had to face was whether the Sorcerer’s Guild wanted to entangle themselves in another one of the King’s wars. If the Guild refused to help Rupus during the Citadel’s Rebellion, fifty years ago, why would they join now? If they refused, the fate of the realm would be in the hands of Void and his army. Rupus could not let that happen.

King Rupus sat down on his throne. He stroked his ginger beard pondering what decision to make. Pincas suddenly barged through the heavy wooden doors of the King’s chambers and approached the king. His red tunic wavered through the air and he strode gracefully across the marble floor. He knelt on one knee and said, “Your Highness, can I be of any assistance?”

“It is about time you make use of yourself, boy.” The King began. “I need you to send a raven to the Glade, where the Sorcerer’s Guild is located. I need you to send an urgent message for a renewal for the alliance of sorcerers and mortals. Inform them of the Goulrath army, Void the necromancer, and the disappearances in the north. Tell them that they need to a scout party in the woodlands of the north as soon as possible. Time is of the essence. Use the King’s Seal and hurry!”

“I shall sir. Is that all?” Pincas asked bowing gracefully.

“Why are you still here, boy?”

Pincas bowed, and turned back towards the great wooden doors. As he walked hurriedly across the hall the Kingsguard opened the doors for Pincas’ passage. The prince soon disappeared from sight.

Rupus sighed as his son left the room. The King took a slice of apple from the bowl to his right and munched on it hungrily. Pincas wasn’t being his usual self. Rupus had never had a healthy relationship with his son, not since Hadrian died, however he knew that Pincas was troubled somehow. He often disappeared into the night and would stay up late just writing and reading. The young prince was not acting normal. Rupus thought to himself whether to consult with the boy about matters but he was sure it was just personal problems of his own.

Rupus took a swig of his wine and it spilt down his chin sending a trickle of red wine down his neck like a slit throat. He wiped it away.

Pincas’ problems are nothing to do with me, he thought.