Necrophobia (2 page)

“Forgive me. I didn’t mean to startle you. I saw the smoke but I couldn’t get here fast enough to lend a hand.” He spoke with an accent she wasn’t familiar with, he was almost certainly a scholar of some kind and no doubt a wizard. He lowered his hands and gestured towards the four fallen bodies surrounding them.

“I didn’t see you approach.” Claire said. She watched him with caution as she lowered her own weapon.
Or hear.
Given her heartbeat pounding in her ears that was less than surprising.

The elderly man smiled, and bowed his head.

“I’ve had a lot of practice.” He walked past her and knelt beside the nearest body. He inspected its wounds and deathly pallor without touching it. His manner seemed practised and matter-of-fact.

“Who are you?”

The man furrowed his brow. “You don’t remember me; but I knew your mother. The resemblance is quite remarkable.”

Claire allowed a raised eyebrow to speak for her.

“My name is Alvis Razakel, I’m a sorcerer — as I’m sure you’ve guessed.”

The name sounded familiar but at the time she was unable to remember where she’d heard it. “Do you know what’s happening here?”

Razakel didn’t reply for several moments, instead watching the skyline towards the sea; two sets of smoke clouds drifted lazily upwards. Across the Altus forest she could see smoke rising from the village of Caelholm and the Caelite Temple several miles away.

“Necromancy.” He replied after some time. “Don’t worry about the village. That’s a diversion, I’m sure of it.”

She thought about her home, her father and friends. ‘Don’t worry about it’ was a difficult request.

“How can you be sure?”

“This is the source—” He pointed towards the tombs behind them. “Whatever is happening it’s originating from here. I can feel it. If we cut off the head we’ll save the village and temple as well.”

Claire nodded in response and watched him walk towards the entrance.

“You’ll find your answers here if you wish to accompany me. I know you can handle yourself.” He continued with a smile. She couldn’t help but feel he was testing her in some way, trying to see how she’d react. He seemed sincere but that offered little solace, untrustworthy sorts so often did. Still, her curiosity piqued.

“Let’s go then.” Claire replied smiling to herself. She wasn’t going to play his game but she wasn’t going to just watch, not whilst she had a chance to do something about it.

Built into the sacred Altus mountain the fortress-temple watched over the forests, lake Gelida and the village of Caelholm. Each spire curved and protected against assault by siege weaponry and arrow-slits. Each wall reinforced, enchanted and blessed in the name of the gods. Fights raged throughout the stronghold as undead seeped in through the undercroft beneath the Temple. Their intrusion aided by cloaked humans wielding daggers and unholy magics. Despite the initial shock the Caelites rallied quickly reclaiming inch by inch striking back the intruders. Unholy magic and the relentless endurance of the undead struggled against the zealous fervour of the Caelite order. Captain Reiner Soranus sprinted down the winding stairwells from the training chambers; flanked by Cynthia Verena and Alvar Lupis towards the sounds of fighting below. Roused by the explosions and shouts that shook the stronghold interrupting their routine sparring session. All three were clad in the silver-grey plated mail of their order, decorated and shaped with simple recurring dragon motifs. The pauldrons, helmets, knee and arm guards tipped with stylised wings and designed to turn aside both blades and arrows. Reiner often eschewed the use of his horned helmet; he favoured the extra peripheral vision it granted. Duty bound and serious almost to a fault his promotion to Captain six years prior came as little surprise to anyone. He wore the deep purple cape and tabard worn by officers with pride. Reiner enjoyed the feel of the cape on his back and the theatric flair it added to day-to-day business. The trio came to a halt as they reached the bottom step opening into a three-way corridor stretching off into the distance.

“Which way, Captain?” The youngest, Alvar asked with hesitation.

Alvar was quiet and thoughtful and a full head shorter than Reiner with a pale complexion and long black hair. Whilst competent and showing great promise with magic his inexperience and lack of confidence shone through. He shrunk away from Reiner’s gaze, his brown eyes wide with worry. There was a lull in the distant fighting and the acoustics of the hallway didn’t help; an incident a few weeks ago required the carpets removed, repaired and cleaned. Without them the halls carried an echo almost as well as they held a chill; the temple felt bare. To the left the corridor lead towards a chapel, with its heavy wooden bolted doors and the presence of the zealous battle-priests with a propensity for pyromancy Reiner doubted they required much aid. As a religious order of knights, the monks who tended to it would no doubt have any number of Caelites at hand once the temple came under attack. That left straight-ahead leading towards the lowest levels and the armoury; the right passage heading towards the barracks and living areas.

“The armoury. Barracks don’t have many entrances, any attackers would have to try the main gates or tunnel from below.” Reiner replied. He relaxed his breathing and allowed his senses to wander, to become a Caelite neophytes required an extensive magical ability and training before they were ever given the oath. He could feel the disturbance in the aether now, the currents and shifting of magic within the air distorted and warped. It seemed to emanate from below, a tainted aura rose through the floors and surrounding area. The mortuary and the crypts below the temple no doubt, where bodies remained in storage and processed before resting higher up into the true undercroft within the mountains.

“Necromancy.” Cynthia said with certainty.

He felt his heart sink, the mortuary was perhaps the least defended section of the temple besides basic enchantments and security measures; after all the dead never raised any problems. Until today of course. Once more an explosion reverberated throughout the building and the distant thunder of electric discharge followed.

“This way.” Reiner shouted, as he ran towards the source.

They ran down several corridors avoiding the rubble and overturned furniture towards the main hall, before they could progress any further a crossbow bolt exploded into the wall behind them and figures approached from a side room. Each wore long black traveller’s cloaks, three men and a woman each carrying curved sacrificial knives and one of the men hung back steadying a crossbow. Their expressions blank and uninterested, their movements uncoordinated yet somehow synchronised.

“They’re enthralled!” Alvar shouted. His left hand tracing complicated patterns through the air as he prepared a spell.

Cynthia dodged the first thrall’s lunge and sent him flying backwards to the floor. The spear aimed at his throat did little to dissuade his attempts at attacking.

“I don’t like it either but it’s them or us.” She replied before driving her spear downwards with a muffled thud.

The distant crossbowman fired again only for the bolt and crossbow to fly towards the floor from a powerful blast of conjured wind. Alvar gave a worried smile and advanced behind his Captain. It was an effective spell but it was clear Alvar’s heart wasn’t in it. Reiner knew Alvar was capable of far stronger magics, almost equal to his own. Perhaps sometimes even surpassing his own, not that he’d admit it. Clearly the young Caelite hoped to avoid bloodshed or reason with the attackers but one look at their eyes said it all. You can’t reason with enthralled and brainwashed victims; only offer them a kindness with a merciful death. As Reiner advanced he felt the air temperature drop as an ethereal light surrounded the blank-eyed thralls. Tendrils of arcane energy lashed behind them as they cast a spell in concert, heedless of the rushing Caelites. With no way to know what foul magics to expect Reiner took no chances. With all his will he tapped into his own magic and unleashed an overwhelming wave of displaced air surging forwards throwing the cultists backwards like rag-dolls. The force of impact cracked the walls and tore light fixtures and heraldic banners off the walls as they spiralled and landed with a sickening crack. The gathered energy dissipated as their spell-casting ceased. Seizing the initiative he impaled the closest thrall through the chest with his spear; noting the lack of reaction upon their blank faces even as they died. He felt no triumph or joy, only a deepening contempt for whomever had enthralled and sacrificed them. As Cynthia had so succinctly said, it was them or us.

“Show-off.” Cynthia remarked with a sly grin. The smile was a forced one. There was no glory in what they’d done.

“Always keep a spell ready.” Reiner replied keeping his own face impassive. “Alvar, don’t hold back. Or it’ll be you down there next time.” He softened his tone a little.

The boy’s nervous face, quiet demeanour and unruly black hair betrayed the confidence and ability he showed during training; it was familiar to Reiner, he just had to find the right way to bring out his potential.

“I will, sir.”

They continued onwards without incident. The main hall was a towering circular chamber surrounded by balconies around the edge on each floor. Dominating the centre of the wall opposite the entrance was a beautiful marble statue comprised of multiple interlocking dragons and wyverns wrapping around lightning bolts and storm clouds reaching upwards though all eight floors. At the tip Saint Gudrun, first follower of Caelus depicted ascending above the maelstrom below. It was a breathtaking sight that filled Reiner with pride and admiration for his order every time his errands took him through the hall. By some mercy of the gods or by some stroke of luck the statue remained undamaged despite the battle raging below on the ground floor. Reiner, Cynthia and Alvar stood overlooking the balcony on the eighth and highest floor. Caelites and their undead counterparts exchanged bolts of lightning and magical blasts; the undead aided by their enthralled allies vastly outnumbered the defending Caelites.

“Looks like we’re needed. You two! With me.” Reiner commanded as he leapt over the stone balcony and fell eight floors towards the ground like a meteorite made from steel.

With the stone entrance ravaged by explosives and recent signs of battle the burial tombs lay open and unguarded. Fresh falling snow swept in carried by the strong mountain winds coating the fallen warriors in a thin sheet of white and blowing out the nearby braziers. The decorated arches though cracked and burned remained standing as if by some minor miracle. Over the cloying scent of incense came the sweeter smell of rot and decay emanating from the now empty side rooms and chambers. Coffins lay ripped open, burial shrouds torn and scattered throughout and fresh blood splashed across the ancient walls. The finest and most devout warriors of Caelus entombed and preserved for centuries within the holy necropolis were absent. Claire retrieved a fallen sword from one of the tombs and tested its weight in her hands. With her quiver almost empty and the tight corridors she’d need a different weapon to defend herself. Whilst the hunting knife was an excellent weighted weapon gifted to her by her father; its short range would soon see her skewered. She could hear bodies dragging their weight in the distance over the constant whistle of the winds stirring the once silent tomb. Beside her Alvis Razakel paused to study a mural etched into the wall depicting one of the many victories the Caelite order had in their history; his arms folded and his face unreadable. From his posture and heavier breathing alone she could feel the toll magic use was having upon him. Even the simplest of spells she’d attempted in the past had been more tiring than she’d anticipated; between the difficulty in learning how to utilise magic and the physical and mental demands of actually using it sometimes it was intensive than doing the same task without magic.

“Something on your mind?” She asked watching him with interest.

“Only select members of the order will ever see these murals — these works of art. It’s a shame they’re locked away here.” He shook his head with a thin-lipped grimace.