The Necromancer
Soon after the world was created, life exploded across it, filling
every nook and cranny of Elysium with living beings. But life was soon
followed by death.
Some of the lost souls of the early elves and hamakei that first
set foot upon Elysium and then died ended up in Hades, amongst the foul
abominable demons. Many of the demons took to enslaving and torturing these
souls, manipulating them to their own twisted desires. One demon, named
Aszhann, took more of an interest in the souls than the other demons, who
merely saw them as curiosities. Aszhann developed his abilities to control
the souls far in advance of the other demons, teaching himself methods
of summoning distant souls, and giving them physical forms. Soon, his mind
became so sensitive to the souls, that he could detect when a new soul
was about to enter Hades. He took to waiting in the places where he knew
the souls would emerge, so that he could take control of them the moment
they entered the domain of the demons. As the souls arrived, through silvery
gates that opened and closed almost instantly, Aszhann managed to peer
through the gates, to see a strange world with strange creatures in it.
Eventually, when he felt his control over the souls was absolute, he passed
through one of the gates as it opened.
The young hamakei sighed. His tutor, an uncle who had petitioned
his father to send the hamakei on a two week trip to the uncles tower so
he might study the uncles magic, was trying to explain the difference between
the binding energy that held items together, and the energy which could
be channelled and shaped during conjuring. "Will you pay attention Dresh!"
the uncle snapped with irritation. "When will you teach me some real magic?"
Dresh replied, with a hint of scorn in his voice. "Dresh, you must learn
the theory of magic before you can control that magic. Have patience. None
of your cousins were this awkward." The uncles voice was rising with his
growing irritation. "Uncle, I have been here for almost a year, and all
you have taught me is theory!" The uncle sighed, his head bowed. "If you
must know, I had been planning to teach you a simple defensive spell."
"Defence! That is no fun!" "Maybe I was wrong when I told your father you
were old enough to be taught the arts of our people. Defence is necessary,
to protect us from the wilderness during our travels. The spell I will
teach you could save your life next time you are attacked by a wild beast."
"But if you taught me offensive spells, I could slay the beast, and provide
myself with food for the rest of the journey." Dresh leaned back in his
chair, a smug look on his bird-like face. "That is not the way of the hamakei.
Violence breeds violence!" the uncle was shouting now. Dresh rose from
his seat, which fell backwards, clattering to the floor behind him. "Uncle,
will you not teach me that which I wish to learn?" "No! It is not my intent
to teach you how to maim and kill." "Then I will seek a tutor who will!"
Dresh turned from his uncle and stormed from the room, setting off down
the spiral stairway of his uncles tower at a trot. When he was about halfway
down he heard his uncle call to him from above, but Dresh ignored it, and
walked out of the tower, slamming the door behind him. He set off towards
the forest a few days to the south.
Two days later, Dresh was wandering through the trees. He was thin
after his few days without food, but the hamakeis naturally light frame
meant that they could survive long periods with little or no sustenance.
He did not however, believe that he could last forever that way, and was
now seeking out a small elven village his uncle had occasionally spoken
of, where he hoped to find supplies. Suddenly, the leaves around him rustled,
and a green clad figure dropped from the trees before him, landing on their
feet and rising up in one fluid motion, swinging up a light bow so that
it's loaded arrow was pointing at Dresh's chest. The elf grinned. "We don't
see too many of your type round here. Who are you, and what is your purpose
in our fine woodlands?" the elf inquired. "I am Dresh, son of Nelmar. I
seek supplies and equipment from your village." Dresh replied. "Oh? Supplies?
Why?" "I wish to journey the lands, to search for teachers of lore. I need
supplies for this journey." "A journey eh? I've always wanted to travel
the lands. The woods are all good and well for the village elders, but
we youngsters need a little adventure in our life. Consider taking me with
you? As a travel companion?" the elf flashed a smile at Dresh, lowering
the bow. The hamakei was slightly taken aback by this, the two races did
not generally mix very often, as the world was a wide open place, with
plenty of space for the hamakei's hermit-like tendencies, even with the
elves around. "I..." He started to answer. "Good, good, that's decided.
I'm going to enjoy this. My name is Rushel, by the way. Follow me, I can
get us a good deal on those supplies we need." With that, the elf set off
deeper into the forest with a long stride, and Dresh had to struggle to
keep up with him. "In fact," Rushel was saying, "I reckon I could get my
father to fund this expedition. He's always told me that he'll support
me when I find something I really want to do, and he is a priest after
all, lots of influence in the community. He'll be able to get us some supplies,
no trouble at all." Soon the duo came out into a clearing, which was ringed
by wooden huts, surrounding a large oak tree. Glancing around, Dresh noticed
more huts set up in the tree tops, and saw a few elves sitting around,
staring at the new arrival. Rushel seemed to completely ignore these stares,
and walked straight across the clearing to a large hut on the other side.
He disappearing inside for a moment, leaving the hamakei alone under the
gaze of the elves, before emerging again with an older looking elf wearing
white robes. "Greetings hamakei. I am honoured to welcome you to our village.
I hear you are on an expedition?" the older elf asked, smiling almost identically
to Rushel, who stood by his side. "Err, yes, I am seeking a tutor of magical
lore." "Wonderful!" the elf enthused. "Magic is such an interesting thing.
I prefer to put my trust in the gods, but magic is still a most intriguing
prospect." Rushel was beaming widely next to the elf. "Father has agreed
to fund our trip Dresh." He interjected at this point. Dresh was still
slightly overcome by the openness and friendliness of the elves, knowing
only the introverted personalities of his hamakei brethren previously,
and could only stand gawping at his newly found benefactor. "You will stay
with us for a few days while we gather up the supplies for your journey
I hope? Excellent, we have a hut especially for visitors to the village,
you can stay there."
The next few days went by Dresh in a blur of elven faces and hospitality.
By the morning it was time to leave, he had been introduced to every single
elf living in the village, and although he couldn't remember the names
of half of them, they all spoke to him as if he was the best of friends.
As the dawn broke, and the sun rose in the sky, the elves formed a semi-circle
around Dresh and Rushel. Both had been given large packs to wear across
their backs, and a light brown pony stood near by, laden with supplies
and ready to be led by the duo. Dresh had carved himself a staff from a
dead tree near the village, to replace his own staff which he had left
in his uncles tower, and now leaned heavily on this. Rushel had hung a
scabbard with a long thin sword from his belt, and his bow was slung over
his shoulder. He also wore a quiver over his other shoulder, and Dresh
had been surprised at the ease with which the elf could carry this heavy
load, despite his light figure. Rushel was moving around the semi-circle
of elves, saying a few words to each of them, and eventually he came to
his father, who was standing at the end of the crescent. Without a word,
the priest smiled and took a long, shimmering dagger from a fold in his
white robes. The dagger seemed to sparkle in the morning light, and Dresh's
magically sensitive senses detected the power emanating from it instantly.
"Son, this is the dagger which my father, your grandfather, used to slay
the demon who once blighted our village. It was blessed by the then priest
of the villager, and it carries the power of the gods within it. Use it
well, and it will guard you from harm." The priest placed the dagger in
Rushel's upturned palms, and Rushel sank to his knees, head bowed before
his father. "I thank you father." Rushel stood up, and taking the lead
of the pony in his hand, strode out of the semi-circle and towards the
village entrance silently, with Dresh trailing behind him.
For many years, the pair travelled the continent, searching for
the teacher whom Dresh longed for, and as the months past, Dresh found
himself becoming less and less of a hamakei, and more and more elfish.
Of course, his body did not change - His harsh bird like body still formed
a strong contrast against Rushel's long, pale and smooth form, but his
mind seemed to change. Every day, he felt some of the introvert qualities
of his hamakei ancestors slipping away. Rushel himself didn't seem to change
at all, even in age... He looked no older than the day they set out even
after half a decade of travel. As for his personality, there was no reason
to change - He just kept talking on and on whomever his companion was,
so none of Dresh's solitary ideals rubbed off on him. As the years past,
and the pair found themselves rejected from hamakei tower after hamakei
tower, Dresh began to have doubts about his quest...
Then one day, they spied a shape in the distance. Believing it
to be another hamakei tower, they trekked towards it, but as they drew
closer, they saw it was anything but a hamakei building. It seemed to be
a vast dome, constructed of earth, and topped with a tall spire, which
was blackened near the top. Dark clouds seemed to gather over this spire,
concealing it's peak. The two came closer still, and saw a gaping opening
in the base of the dome, which they headed for.
As they stepped through the opening, they were immediately struck
by the stench of rotting flesh. Peering around the small tunnel they had
entered, they saw that the walls were constructed of mounds of blackened
flesh, and huge rib bones, surely from a creature larger than a dragon,
held up the ceiling. Dresh almost recoiled as the strength of the magic
in the area diffused through his body. "The necro is strong here." He said,
stepping back slightly. "The necro? What's that?" Asked Rushel, stepping
forward and simultaneously drawing his sword from it's scabbard. "Necro
is a hamakei word used by some who dwell in the northern towers, it comes
from one of our names for Nectanebus, he who keeps us from death. Roughly
translated, it simply means, death." Dresh followed Rushel as the elf ventured
further. "I'm not sure if I like this place. Maybe we should leave." Rushel
turned back towards Dresh. For a moment, Dresh felt relieved, glad to be
leaving this terrifying place, but then the realisation that the magic
here could be harnessed, to give great power, he stepped forward, blocking
Rushel's path back along the tunnel. "No, I think we should go further
in. This might be the place I have been seeking." Rushel looked dubious
for a second, and then nodded. "Okay, we go further." The pair walked side
by side now, Rushel keeping his weapon drawn, as they walked around a corner.
There was a sudden noise behind them, like a huge soft boulder thudding
into the ground, and they turned immediately. Peering back around the corner,
they saw that the exit had gone - Only a wall of flesh stood where it once
was. "Looks like we have to explore a bit more now." Rushel said, with
a sigh, and the two continued along the tunnel. Soon they came to a cavern,
within which a dark fluid ran down the walls, and slid across the ground
forming a sticky pool. Rushel paused at the edge of this, but Dresh carried
on forward, through the liquid, towards a staircase he had spotted on the
other side of the room. As Rushel knelt down by the fluid, dabbing his
fingers in and moving to sniff them, he heard a scream. He glanced up,
to see the hamakei being lifted into the air by three skeletal wyverns,
which beat their still leathery wings and accelerated up into the cavity
above the room. Rushel leapt to his feet and ran into the centre of the
room, swinging his sword at one of the wyverns, but it was too late, and
they had drawn up out of his range. As he gazed up at the diminishing beasts,
he heard a clattering noise rising from all around him, and he glanced
around to see skeletal elves and hamakei stepping from the shadows. With
a cry, he swung his sword at the closest one, knocking its skull from it's
shoulders, but the skeleton continued to advance on him. He spun around
wildly, sword flailing at the attackers, who grabbed at him and clawed
him with bony fingers. Ribs splintered and cracked all around him, and
skeletal arms and legs flew away with the momentum of his blows, but still
the skeletons approached. He was forced to the floor, skeletal fingers
still ripping at his flesh, the pack tumbling from his back as it's strap
was ripped, and arrows spilling from his quiver as it's delicate material
was torn. A well placed kick sent one skeleton reeling back, and as it
hit a pillar stained dark by the liquid, it's joints seemed to shatter,
and it's body fell apart. Thrashing about in the dark liquid, which flowed
all over him, he managed to pull a leg away from another, sending it toppling
to the floor, and a frantic swing of his sword shattered the pelvis of
another, shearing it in half and sending the two parts crashing to the
floor, where the skeleton shattered, sending shards of bone flying. Another
skeleton was forced back as Rushel's sword ran up it's spine, shattering
the bones and causing the body to fall apart, bone by bone. Gradually,
Rushel managed to gain the upper hand, and after a few minutes of tussling,
he was lying in the centre of a mass of tangled bones, many still thrashing,
groping towards him, refusing to give up in destruction as they had refused
to give up during death. Blood poured from wounds all over his body, and
he spat a coppery liquid from his mouth, unsure if it was his own blood,
or the dark liquid that sloshed around him. Rising to his feet and sheathing
his sword, he glanced upwards with a new determination, and stepped over
the writhing bones, heading towards the staircase.
As Rushel reached the staircase, he saw in the dim light that it
was made of bones, but by now he felt that he would never be shocked or
terrified by any sights like this again, not after seeing the dead rise
up against him. Climbing the stairs at a trot, eager to find his companion,
Rushel glanced upwards, to see where the stairs stopped at an apparent
landing, halfway up the central tower. He bowed his head and concentrated
as he loped up the steps three at a time, but as he drew closer to the
landing he glanced up again, and was shocked to see a figure leaning over
the edge, peering down at him. He saw a beak in the figures face, and for
a moment thought it was Dresh, and called out the hamakei's name, only
to see the figure lean further over and begin to descend the steps. Rushel
then saw that this hamakei was not his companion, and instead was some
evil parody of a hamakei, with flesh hanging limply from it's bones and
dark algae spreading across it's rotting features. Rushel took a step back,
and drew his sword, as he caught a glimpse of a second dead creature, with
the form of an elf, behind the hamakei. As the first beast drew closer,
Rushel thrust his sword up at it, and heard splintering bones as the blade
cut through the rotted carcass and lodged in the beasts ribcage. Rushel
tried to yank his blade free, for a second strike, as the beast lumbered
forward towards him, but he lost his grip on the sword and fell backwards
when the beast swung a fist of festering meat into the side of his head.
Rushel tumbled over, and rolled down a number of steps before he managed
to grab hold of the stairways banister, and pull himself to his feet. Gasping
for breath, and nursing his bruised side, he heard a clatter from below,
and glanced down to see that more skeletal figures had emerged from the
shadows around the fluid filled room, and were milling around the room,
picking up the bones of their fallen comrades and putting their skeletons
back together. Ignoring this, Rushel turned his attention back to the lumbering
creatures that advanced from above, and drew the dagger from his belt.
The shimmering blade glinted, and seemed to give off a light of it's own,
illuminating the dark stairwell, and revealing a third beast stepping down
from the landing. With a cry, Rushel leapt forward at the first of the
approaching creatures, and slashed his dagger across it's chest. The beast
bellowed as the wound caused by the blessed blade began to smoulder and
smoke. With another slash, the other way across the creatures chest, Rushel
ran past the beast, which sank to it's knees, clutching at it's burning
wounds, and fell forward head first down the stairs. Rushel tore into the
second creatures shoulder with the blade, rendering it from the things
body, and causing the creature to moan in pain. Smoke issued forth from
the stump that was left there, but the beast still lashed out at Rushel
with it's remaining arm, scoring a heavy blow to the elves hip. Rushel
fell to one side as his leg gave way beneath him, and threw an arm around
a post of the banister, nearly losing his grip on his dagger. The beast
staggered, and tried to turn to follow up it's attack, but misplaced one
of it's feet on the smooth steps, and slid down them, leaving chunks of
rotten flesh where it's body caught the edge of them. Rushel managed to
clamber back onto his feet, and swung up his left arm to protect him from
the third beasts double handed strike, which crushed the bone in that arm,
snapping it in two and leaving the elves arm flapping uselessly from his
side. With the dagger in his right hand, Rushel reached forward and drew
it across the creatures neck, causing a thin line of smouldering and charred
flesh. The creature howled, and reached for it's neck, before freezing
for a second, and then collapsing in a heap as it's head rolled off the
now burnt stump of it's neck. Rushel sank down to his knees, and wrapped
his arm around the post again to steady himself. His strength was almost
completely spent, and he had not yet even got halfway up the stairs. Below
him, he heard a clicking noise, and glanced down to see that the skeletons
had begun to follow him up the stairs. With a sigh, he pulled himself back
to his feet and continued his journey upwards.
The middle landing was empty when he reached it, the beasts he
had defeated seemingly the only guardians at this stage. Dark passageways
gaped in the surrounding walls, but Rushel ignored them, going straight
for the stairway at the other side of the landing. He reached this and
ascended it, only glancing back as he neared the top of this final stairway,
to see that the skeletons had reached the middle landing. When he reached
the top, he pulled himself onto the landing, and leant heavily on the landings
balcony, gazing in awe at the sight before him.
A huge throne dominated the landing, made entirely of bones and
skulls, but it was not this which captured his attention. Sitting on the
throne was a colossal beast, twice the height of an elf, and looking ten
times as strong. The beast's skin was red and covered with veins, through
which squirmed unknown substances. It's feet were cloven, and it's body
was wreathed in a flowing black robe. The beasts head was bald, with a
semi-circle of small black horns jutting out around it's temple. The creatures
eyes were pure blackness. It's long, clawed fingers curled and uncurled
as it sat staring at him.
"Greetings mortal." Said Aszhann. "I did not expect you to reach
this far. Your kind never ceases to surprise me." The demon stood, and
pulled a long sword of bone from within the folds of it's robe, stepping
down from the throne so that it towered over Rushel, who brandished his
dagger at the horrific figure. With a chuckle, the demon raised his sword,
and held it over his head for a second, before swinging it down with great
force.
Rushel gathered together all of his strength and pounced forward,
thrusting his dagger towards the creatures midriff.
The demon's howl reverberated around the tower as the power of
the blade exploded through his body, consuming his very soul.
A great swirling mass of power opened up below the gigantic form,
and Aszhann staggered back, drawing his now glowing body from the ichor
stained blade. "Yes mortal... Your kind always surprise me..." The demon
sighed, before falling backwards into the gateway back to Hades, which
closed behind him silently. There was a noise like a million windows smashing,
and bones rained down on Rushel, the remains of a skeletal wyvern who had
been hovering above the battle. Rushel glanced backwards down the stairs,
and saw that the skeletons following him had met with a similar fate. Now
all he had to do was find his companion, but that problem was solved almost
instantly, as Dresh stepped out from behind the throne, holding a huge
tome in one hand. "Dresh! I have defeated the... the... the thing, that
was here... We must leave this place, it is evil!" Dresh only smiled, thinly.
"But, my dear Rushel, this is the place I have been seeking all my life.
This is the source of the magic I have longed for, the magic that was destined
to be mine. And it was all written down for me, in case this happened..."
Dresh waved a taloned hand across the empty throne. "Within this tome,
all the knowledge of the magic here is contained. Now I have immortal power,
for I am the one who shall control death." "But... This magic is evil!
It must be destroyed!" With a lightning fast move, Rushel leapt towards
Dresh, and slashed his dagger across the tome, ripping apart the pages
and sending them scattering into the air. Many of the pages were sucked
out of a nearby window by the storm outside, and Dresh howled in rage.
The hamakei swung a clawed hand across the elf's face, ripping Rushel's
flesh, and causing him to stagger backwards. Rushel staggered into the
banister at the edge of the landing, and grabbed it to steady himself,
losing his grip on the blessed dagger, which tumbled out of his hand and
spiralled away down the stairway. Dresh snarled in anger, and jumped at
Rushel again, pushing the elf over the banister, causing him to plummet
downwards.
As Rushel sped through the air, images flashed across his mind...
...An army of skeletons rising themselves from the ground...
...Tortured souls screaming in agony...
...Strange beings making pilgrimage's from distant islands...
...Elven warriors slaughtered by armies of the dead...
...A single elven corpse, lifting it's ruined body from the ground
as it gained eternal life through death...
Rushel hit the ground. His last vision was the first to come true.
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