The Necromancer's Reckoning: Chapter 9 and 10

Chapter 9

The Great Elder’s eyes skimmed over the letter. His hands seemed to finger the red wax of the king’s seal nervously. Cornelius Pine’s face gradually grew more ferocious with every word he read. The Elder finished reading the letter and scrunched the piece of parchment up into a ball. Cornelius’ fingers flexed and the ball of parchment was in flame. Within seconds, all that remained was smouldering ashes which he gracefully descended onto the polished marble floor.

Rokan Highrush stood firmly still, his hand upon the hilt of his blade, Oakmere. He looked upwards awaiting command from the Elders. Rokan was dressed in full steel plated armour, carrying his helm by his side. Rokan knew that the letter had brought bad tidings to the Glade. The Glade was the home of the Sorcerer’s Guild. For hundreds of years it had been their land, their fortress, their home.

The Elder to the right of Cornelius, named Evershine Rushe, a fearless sorceress, easily the youngest out of the three Elders with dark flowing hair, a young face and deep green eyes. She was an attractive but not in the age range of Rokan, he was far too old for her. Evershine turned to Cornelius and asked, “What is this grave news, Great Elder?”

“Did the look on my face really give that much away?” Cornelius replied, half smiling.

“That, and the fact that the letter bearing the king’s seal is now in ashes on the newly polished floor.” She said letting her flingers flow through her smooth hair.

“It is word from the King. He has been investigating the disappearances in the north of the realm, on the outskirts of the Forbidden Lands. He believes it is the fabled Goulrath that is the source of these… disappearances.” Cornelius held his palm out and a grape from the fruit bowl levitated through the air and into the palm of his hand. He placed the fruit into his mouth chewed and swollowed. A thin smile crossed his lips. “This news is stale, we discovered this revelation months ago. As always, the Sorcerer’s Guild is one step ahead of King Rupus.”

“So what has the King proposed?” the other Elder asked, cocking his head. His name was Romulus Vernight, ginger of hair, tall, muscular, the natural build for a warrior but he somehow found himself among the Elders.

“Ah, that is why my temper begins to shorten.” Cornelius began. “The King wishes to renew the alliance between sorcerers and the crown. He suspects that the banished necromancer, Void is behind it all. Which as we all know is true. The King wants to renew the alliance so the Goulrath are stopped before Axion falls into chaos. It’s a brave move from Rupus. King Rupus has never been known for making risky decisions but these are desperate times and when war is on the horizon, men take desperate measures. How should we proceed?” Cornelius asked, stroking his small grey beard.

As Rokan heard these words he stood quietly below the Elders watching them decide what actions to take. The King wanted to form an alliance with the sorcerers once more to stop Void from releasing his Goulrath army upon the realm. It was a logical decision for the Sorcerer’s Guild to accept the King’s proposal, seeing how Void was a growing threat and had a personal vendetta against the Guild. Neither side could challenge Void and his army alone, but united as one; Void would perhaps have second thoughts.

Rokan took a deep breath and started to speak, “If I have permission to state my position on the matter, Great Elder, I believe that we should accept the proposal. The Goulrath are a growing threat, and a powerful enemy. I have no experience in combat with these monsters but I have heard ghastly tales of their sinister nature. We should accept the proposal now; form the alliance while the Goulrath are still growing. We need to strike now before the Goulrath army reach the height of their power.”

Evershine Rushe replied first, “Wise words, General. But you are forgetting that this alliance has not been fresh since the Breaking of Darkness, eighty years ago now. We did the King Herald’s dirty work, we destroyed his necromancer forces, we banished Void from the realm and we won Herald the war. We did all this while the King and his Realmguard reaped all the glory for themselves.”

The Great Elder injected, “The Sorcerer’s Guild does not exist to reap glory, this sacred order exists to protect the realm from darkness.”

Romulus Vernight stood up in protest. “I agree with General Highrush. The realm is in danger and will do anything in my path to save it, even if it means aligning with King Rupus. I refuse to sit here in these chambers, bickering and eating grapes while the mortals of a lesser power are slaughtered defending their realm. Axion needs our help, it needs our magic and it needs our courage in these dark times. I say we renew this alliance which was once so great, and we should crush the Goulrath before they even take one step out of the Forbidden Lands.”

“I can see both views on the matter,” Cornelius began. “But the King wants more than a renewal of the alliance. He wants us to send our best sorcerers to the north, on the outskirts of the Forbidden Lands to rid the area of Goulrath encampments. Rokan, from a general’s point of view, do you think we should accept these terms. Should we risk losing our sorcerers for a simple errand for the crown?”

Rokan took a few seconds to think. He was a general, he shouldn’t be talking of matters such as these. He slowly tilted his head up and looked at the Elders which sat above him. “If we take twenty of our troops to the north, we can slay the Goulrath and we can send Void a message that his dark magic cannot defeat the Guild. We can take a handful of students with us as well, to practise their magic whilst under pressure. It would be an ideal training exercise for them. That is just my view on the proposal.” Rokan bowed and remained quiet once again.

“You shed a certain light on the matter, Rokan. Although you are only a general, you would make a fine Elder indeed.”

“Many thanks, Grand Elder. But I feel that my sole purpose is for combat, not politics.” Rokan replied modestly, shifting nervously.

“I agree in what Romulus and Rokan have to say. But I can still see the point of view of Evershine. As Grand Elder, I am tasked in deciding the ultimate decision when matters like these are placed in the hands of the Elders. But I have come to the conclusion that we should accept the King’s proposal.”

Evershine gasped. “Grand Elder, think of the consequences of your decision!”

“My decision is final, Evershine. The Guild cannot let the realm fall into chaos. If the King needs our help to stop that from happening, then we will aid him, no matter the cost.”

“So it is decided.” The Grand Elder boomed. “We ride for the north at first light with five of our students and fifteen of our finest warriors. Rokan, you shall lead the company. Raid and destroy any Goulrath camp you see. Romulus, you will reply to King Rupus. Explain that we have accepted the proposal and the alliance between the Sorcerer’s Guild and the Kings Guard has been renewed. Tell him that we have sent a party to destroy any Goulrath camps south of the Forbidden Lands.”

Romulus and Rokan both nodded in agreement.

“Rokan, you may leave the Chambers of the Elders now. Summon your party at once and then get some rest. You will need to have your wits about you when you face those Goulrath warriors.” Cornelius said, eating another grape. “And good luck.”

“Yes, Grand Elder. I will muster the party at once.” Rokan said, bowing and then turning the other way towards the door.

Rokan’s brown leather cape wavered as he walked swiftly towards the door. It had been a few weeks since Rokan had been in the face of true battle. He was ready to stride into the fight once more and slay countless Goulrath in his path. The only question was whether he would come back.

Chapter 10

Valdor was mentally and physically exhausted. Having endured what seemed like gallons of Scarab poison his body was scarred and lifeless. He hadn’t seen any Goulrath enter his tent in days. They probably had forgotten about him. He prayed.

The final strands of hope were beginning to fade for Valdor. The only way out of this nightmare was by death.

Valdor’s hair had grown long down to his neck, small signs of stubble started to appear around his face. He stank of excretion and sweat. His eyes were bloodshot from the overdoses of the poison. Small scars formed on his face from where the Zulrich steel blade, tipped with Scarab poison had been slashed across his cheek.

Valdor sat cross legged with his head down, hands bind behind his back strapped against a pole which supported the tent up. If Valdor moved ever so slightly, the tent would start to wobble. Valdor examined the tent slowly investigating the structure. A rack of knives and blades stood propped against the tent. Whenever Valdor started to move the blades rack would start to shake ever so slightly. Valdor could use this to his advantage. There was a flicker of hope.

It was a risky decision. It could completely back fire against Valdor. If Valdor could use his momentum and the right amount of force to shake the tent so that the weapons rack collapsed, releasing the knives and swords to the floor. He could grab the nearest knife, cut the bindings, take a sword and run away. It would have to be at night when most of the Goulrath are asleep and it would be harder to spot Valdor in the darkness.

The more Valdor thought about it the more it sounded like a reliable plan. It could work. Valdor was as good as dead here in this Goulrath camp. There was no chance of them letting him go. This could be the only chance. He would be a fool not to seize the opportunity.

Evening came fast. The sun started to slowly set and the horizon vanished into a warm hazy glow. A Goulrath soldier threw in some stale bread and a bowel of stagnant water. Valdor consumed them quickly. He was going to need all the energy he could get. At this point, the taste didn’t matter.

As night dawned on camp the nerves started to settle in. His breathing was heavy and his hands were shaking. Beads of sweat trickled down Valdor’s face. This was the moment that could decide whether he was going to live or die.

But doubt slowly crept into his mind. Once he escaped, he would only have a certain amount of time before the Goulrath would eventually realise that Valdor had fled. They would track him through the woodlands and capture him. Valdor would suffer a more worse fate than before. They would toture him until he begged for a quick death.

Even if they didn’t find him, the northern lands were strange, with roaming wild beasts, savages and bandits. It was treacherous territory he would have to run through. And at night it was twice as perilous as in the day. All kinds of strange beings awoke from their deep slumber.

The risk was huge. Valdor could be finding himself in a worse situation than what he was in. It had been almost a week and a half of living in this camp. A flurry of endless consequences flooded through his mind. But the alternative to escaping was wasting away in this tent with stale bread and warm water. Valdor was a restless nomad, destined to wonder the realm of Axion for the rest of his days. Valdor wanted to explore as much of the realm as he could before he met the doors of the Afterlife.

He had decided.

If this was his only opportunity to escape and see the world again, he would take it. Taking in one big breath he leaned one way and then the other. The weapon’s rack started to sway. Valdor carried on swaying from side to side and the weapons rack was moving more and more.

The rack was hindering on the edge of collapse but would then topple back the other side. Valdor leaned from side to side as fast as he could. Soon, he would start to draw attention to himself.

Within minutes the rack was drastically swaying from side to side and then it tipped ever so slightly over the edge and toppled down towards Valdor and landed with a mighty CLANG.

It had made a louder sound than Valdor had expected. He winced at the sheer volume of the crash however, But his plan had worked. Swords, bows, spears, axes, knives, maces and even scythes were scattered across the floor of the tent.

Valdor shuffled his legs around the pole and slid a dagger across the floor towards his body. He managed to position it next to his bind hands and grasp the dagger tight. Valdor slowly began to cut the bindings.

In a couple of moments his hands were free. He moved his arms around; it was strange to have use of his arms again. So long he had been tied to a pole and now he was free. His arms ached and he could barely wriggle his fingers.

Valdor then used the dagger to free his legs. He cut through the ropes with ease and so far, the plan was going smoothly. He briefly stretched his legs and reached over to the collapsed weapon rack and grabbed a long, black serrated blade. It was an ugly blade, a typical Goulrath style, designed for butchering, hacking and slaughtering. It was not the ideal weapon for Valdor but any sword was necessary for a time like this. Valdor swung it around to get the feel of the blade. It was heavy and sluggish but it would have to do.

Valdor popped his head out of the tent slowly to see if anyone had heard the crash of the weapon rack. He couldn’t see much but he managed to vaguely spot an armoured Goulrath guard approach the tent.

Oh no. What in the name of the Three am I going to do now?

This wasn’t part of the plan. He didn’t have time to put the weapon rack back and pretend to be asleep. He needed to think of something fast. His mind was spinning. His heart pounded and his head was throbbing. He was running out of time.

The Goulrath guard entered the tent.

Valdor lay hidden in the corner of the tent, deep in the shadows. The Goulrath hadn’t seen him yet. The Goulrath examined the tent with shock and horror. He examined the collapsed weapon rack, the cut bindings and then Valdor jumped up to his feet and in one motion he slit the Goulrath’s throat with a clean slash of his blade. Purple blood seeped from the thin, deep cut. The Goulrath gagged for air but he died slowly and quietly.

Valdor had never killed a man before. His hands were shaking and he desperately tried to wipe the purple blood from his hands onto his trousers. His breathing was heavy and adrenaline surged through him. He couldn’t think straight.

I haven’t killed a man, I have killed a monster. Valdor told himself.

As the Goulrath took his last dying breath, Valdor gazed into the eyes of the horrifying Goulrath. Even in the Goulrath’s last innocent dying breaths, Valdor could see nothing but hate, anger and rage deep within the Goulrath’s eyes. Valdor had no pity. The Goulrath didn’t believe in mercy, so why should Valdor repay them with anything other than a blade to their heart.

During his escape he had already killed one Goulrath. How many more lives were yet to be taken? But such thoughts would have to be delayed. The night was young and time was against him.

Valdor needed the biggest head start he could to assure himself that the Goulrath would not catch him. Valdor reckoned he would have a few hours ahead of the Goulrath by the time they found out he escaped. By then he would be halfway to Toranna.

All this simply for a deer… how petty. He thought, almost laughing aloud.

Once Valdor returned to Toranna, he would have nothing but a dagger and an ill forged Goulrath blade to his name. Valdor hoped he could at least get a few gold opels for the two weapons if he visited the local blacksmith. Valdor would be desperate for gold upon return to the city. He would need money to buy back all his equipment and his weaponry. Without that he would be as good as dead.

Valdor poked his head out of the tent flaps and examined the surrounding area. There were two guards guarding the camp perimeter. They were on the far side patrolling the treeline. It would be easy for Valdor to run to the neighbouring tents and hide behind them for cover however, where the difficulty lay was getting past guards on the far side of the camp. Valdor considered the possibility of just running into the treeline, but if his bearings were correct, he would be going north, the opposite direction to the city of Toranna. And Valdor knew that going north would take him to the Forbidden Lands. The very home of the Goulrath and other ferocious and fearsome creatures. Any direction is better than north, he thought.

Valdor crept slowly out of the tent, keeping his footsteps as quiet as he could and his breathing as still as possible. He crept through the clearing and hid behind a tent for cover. Valdor swiftly moved from tent to tent keeping out of the Goulrath’s line of sight. Everything was going smoothly. But as he approached the two guards patrolling the far side of the camp he became more and more stealthy.

He was behind the last tent waiting for the right moment to run past the guards. If he went out at the wrong time, he would be spotted by the guards and would suffer a severe punishment for attempting to escape. He could not risk that happening. Valdor examined the two guards for a couple of minutes; they walked in a pattern and at a steady pace. Valdor noticed that there was a ten second gap where the two guards were facing the same way. If Valdor could take advantage of that ten second time window and run past them into the trees, he could be free from the Goulrath camp for the rest of his life.

Just quickly run to the trees, don’t make a noise and all will be well. The anticipation seemed to be raking on his insides.

This was the moment that would change his life forever for the greater good or worse. He needed to get this right. This was his only opportunity to escape. To be free.

Valdor waited a couple of seconds but they felt like hours. Then as soon as the two Goulrath guards were facing the same way Valdor broke cover from the tent and sprinted as fast as his legs could endure through the clearing past the guards. His heart was beating so fast and Valdor was afraid he was going to faint. The surge of adrenaline was almost too much for his body. Valdor was counting in his head how much time he had as his time started to run out he slid across the ground into the nearby thicket.

Relief swept over him.

The guards carried on walking up and down the clearing completely oblivious to Valdor’s existence. Valdor almost laughed with joy. He had never felt as much relieved as he did now. He wanted to cry out and shout out on how happy he was. But he needed to get clear of the camp and then release his emotions. Now was the final stage of his plan. Getting clear of the camp without anyone hearing him.

Valdor slowly turned around and took one step forward. Then another. Then another. Twack!

A twig snapped beneath his boot and he felt his whole body go numb. Did any here that? Please no…

“What was that?” the Goulrath guard turned towards Valdor’s direction. Valdor closed his eyes shut and slowly prayed to the Three that they wouldn’t walk over.

No, no, no, no, no.

“A bloody squirrel again.” The Goulrath sitting down said as he sharpened his dagger.

The other Goulrath slowly stood up and drew his blade. He took a short step forward and sniffed the air. “No, that couldn’t have been an animal.” He growled.

Valdor was shaking in terror. This was the moment he had most feared. The moment when certain death awaited him and there was nothing he could do.

The Goulrath slowly walked towards the bush. Valdor peered through with anxiety. The Goulrath drew out a large wooden crossbow and edged towards the bush.

The Goulrath looked down at the bush in which Valdor lay. Different scenarios played in Valdor’s head. If he spotted him, should he attack or run?

Then at that moment the Goulrath made eye contact with Valdor.

Valdor’s heart seemed to implode.

“There’s someone in there! After him!” the Goulrath cried alerting his fellow comrade and awaking the other sleeping Goulrath.

Valdor didn’t know how to act. Valdor leapt to his feet and sprinted out into the forest. He ran and ran. He didn’t look back but he could hear shouts and cries and the sound of Goulrath drawing their steel. The chase was on.

He leapt over logs, ducked under branches and slid through the mud. Valdor desperately needed to stop. His lungs were burning and his heart beat at a frightening pace. As he ran, images of what the Goulrath would do raced through his head. Valdor could never go back. He needed to outrun them or it would only mean death.

Don’t stop. Keep running and don’t slow down. Just keep running, He told himself as his body grew tired.

He rushed through the overgrowth, being wary of the large overgrown roots and poked up from the soil ready to trip him up. Valdor looked back and saw torch lights and a small group of roaring Goulrath. A faint silhouette of axes, crossbows and greatswords loomed in the distance. They were getting closer.

He ran for his life. Valdor could feel himself getting slower and slower. His muscles couldn’t take the pain. His legs throbbed as ran. Numbness went through his body and everything seemed to go in slow motion.

His Goulrath blade was slowing him down. Still keeping the pace, Valdor quickly unbelted the blade and it fell slumped in a muddy puddle. Valdor instantly felt himself running faster. He only had a dagger to defend himself now but at least he had a better chance of outrunning them.

The full moon was out and it helped to illuminate his path but it also gave away his position. Valdor knew what the actual reality was. He was never going to outrun a pack of furious Goulrath. they were known for their great tracking skills, hunting and spriniting. The only way Valdor could get out of this alive was by hiding somewhere where they would least expect.

Valdor reached a creek with deep waters gushing through. Valdor could easily go under water and hide. It would be a huge risk and there were hundreds of possibilities for it going wrong. Valdor slid downhill and his boots reached the surface of the river. Valdor quickly waded through the hip-deep river and drew in a deep breath.

As the Goulrath started to emerge over the hill and gaze down at the creek, Valdor plunged his head under the water and in the shallows. He immediately felt an icy chill dart through his veins. It was like a thousand fish chewing at his skin. The freezing water seemed to burn his skin as he kept himself under the surface. Valdor desperately needed to come back up and break the surface. He couldn’t take the sheer chill of the icy water. The chill sucked all the air from his lungs. He started to panic and wanted to go up for more air. But the Goulrath started wade through the river onto the other side of the creek. I don’t know how much more I can take, he thought, panicking.

The Goulrath made their way up onto the other side of the creek . They were almost gone. Just a couple of more seconds under water…

Valdor heard the last few splashes of water and all of them had got past the river. Valdor needed to wait a couple more seconds more until they were completely clear and out of sight…

Curse the Three!

Valdor sprung up quickly from the surface and gulped a lungful of cold air. He panted like a dog and slumped back into the water on his back. He was exhausted.

“You! Over there!” A Goulrath roared from the far side of the creek.

His eyes bulged and his heart sank.

Thrity more Goulrath gathered behind the Goulrath that had spotted Valdor. It was all over. Valdor was going to die. This is the end…

For a few seconds Valdor couldn’t hear anything. He was still transfixed in a state of shock. The squad of Goulrath charged down the hill and the sound of their boots hitting the ground muffled the sound of everything.

Valdor didn’t resist. He didn’t run. He didn’t shout or scream. He didn’t panic. There was nothing Valdor could do and he had to accept that.

Within seconds the Goulrath swarmed him like bees round a hive. He saw flashes of black steel in the moonlight among the inferno of darkness that surrounded him. Pale grey face snarled at him and deep blood-red eyes bore into his skull. Valdor let the Goulrath take him.

They swung him around from Goulrath to Goulrath. Valdor was helpless. One Goulrath drew a knife and began to talk. “You didn’t think you could escape the Goulrath, did you? Now, we’re going to gut you like a pig.”

A flash of steel glinted in the night. The dagger was raised above his chest. All it would take was a swing of the Goulrath’s arm to pierce his chest and end Valdor’s life. This truly was the end.

SMACK.

His ears rang and his head was throbbing. Had someone smacked him? His head was spinning and his neck dangled from side to side. Valdor wanted to rub his head to ease the pain but his arms were held back.

There was a roar of protest from the Goulrath.

Then what sounded like the Chief Goulrath began to speak. Valdor couldn’t quite hear but the last words he heard were, ‘We want this one alive.’

Then everything went black. Again.