The Dark Necromancer Read online

  “Unknown to the Kaldean Alliance, the red dragons had willingly allowed those possessions to fall into their hands. The day after their victory the continent was destroyed by a powerful magic; it dissolved everything in its path and within a few moments the entire continent vanished from the face of Kalda. It was this deception and devastation that provoked the Kaldean Alliance to create the Au’misha’k.

  “The red dragons had proved cunning in their confrontations with the tethering stone. Through their magic they could escape the pull of the breach and avoid exile. This, coupled with Selgas’s destruction, made it clear to the leaders of the Kaldean Alliance that control, unwavering control, would be the only way to achieve peace for Kalda.

  “In a short amount of time, the draconic sages created the Au’misha’k, otherwise known as the Amulet of Draconic Control. The amulet comprised three parts; the metallic housing, the ruby of lish and the activating scroll. At the bottom of the amulet were three claw-like prongs that clutched the tethering stone.

  “Immediately after the Au’misha’k was completed, a battle was wrought over an island to the west of the ruins of Merath. As the forces of the Alliance and the Empire clashed, the platinum dragon who had wielded the tethering stone in the past unleashed the power of the amulet. Rays of crimson light burst forth and engulfed the island plain and the red dragons in the air all stopped in mid-motion. They plummeted to the ground, unable to act. Using the amulet, the platinum dragon commanded his draconic foes to come to him, and the red dragons were acted upon in such a way which had never been seen. With their wills stripped from them, the red dragons obeyed their platinum dragon master who immediately opened a breach to a distant realm.

  “For the next couple of years blood and carnage veiled the world. Many of the red dragons were caught in the power of the amulet and exiled to Kalish; the name of the realm where the red dragons were disposed. During the amulet’s construction, the leaders of the Alliance decided upon finding a remote world to send those who had instigated the war; to a realm far from the others they had exiled.

  “After three years, the Kaldean Alliance had triumphed; Cheserith was sealed away by the draconic sages and the last of the chromatic brutes were banished to Kalish, or so the leaders of the Alliance believed.

  “Five millennia have passed since the end of that dreadful war. Peace has filled much of that time, but as of late the world has gradually become tainted with ways that once abounded in Cheserith’s Empire. In the last two hundred-and-some odd years I have seen the hearts of men change; slowly turning to base desires of lust, greed and malice. Men have become degenerate, to the point of killing their own brother for the sake of gain. They treat life as if it’s an autumn leaf in the wind. It is this growing evil among humanity that has me concerned.

  “Thus the reason for this address; I fear that not all of those crimson tyrants were exiled to Kalish and that some are furtively influencing the humans of our world. How many there are I know not, but through my long life I have seen subtle changes that have brought an unnatural sundering of the ancient Kaldean Alliance; Elves watch from their towering citadels and observe their human neighbors. The dragons of Kalda have disappeared for almost ninety years, secluding themselves in the far reaches of our world from the evils of humanity. But there are some of their kind who watch, hoping one day men will return to their former ways; observing if there is more to this changing of heart.

  “I am Ilnari, a Cess’nal and former supreme commander of the elven armies of Kardorth.

  “I have told you of the Au’misha’k and its power, and now I will tell you how to retrieve it so it may be re-forged.

  “For if a remnant of the Lish’sha exists upon the face of Kalda then I implore you, believe my words and seek the Au’misha’k. It is our only hope for peace.”

  Prologue

  On a remote island in the south eastern ocean of the world of Kalda, an expedition is searching through the ruins of an ancient people. At first glance, the ruins are a cluster of finely chiseled stone buildings along the foothills, with half of the structures built into the rocky range.

  Along the borders of the ruins, several men dressed in tanned clothing, long sleeved tunics and pants, are searching through the debris of an opened structure.

  From the west, two men of taller than average height walk side by side toward the explorers investigating the ruins. Each of them are clad in chain-linked armor and are of strong muscular builds, yet one is older than the other.

  The elder man, who is late in his middle years, is slightly shorter than his companion. He has two sheathed weapons at his side, both as long as a man’s forearm, while his younger companion has a single sword sheathed upon his back.

  “Krindal,” the older man calls out as he nears the explorers, “I hope your men haven’t ventured too far.”

  Roused by the beckoning, an old man looks up amid the explorers. He is dressed in a dark robe commonly worn by the wielders of necrotic magic. His wrinkled eyes stare at the two armor clad men as he steps around the explores, all the while clearing his throat.

  “No…” the old necromancer calls out, “Not too far Cornar.”

  “Good,” Cornar states as he and his younger companion near the old necromancer.

  “And the buildings seem to go into the mountain. Which confirms what we found in Klindala. If the rest of our prior findings are true, then the caverns below will take awhile to search. We will be out here while you and your warriors secure the inner parts.”

  “Very well,” Cornar nods his head as he stops several steps away from the old necromancer. He takes a deep breath and looks around at the ruins, then back toward the direction he had come with his companion. A dark sky is in the west accompanied by a slight breeze, signs of a coming storm.

  “Kalder, gather the others,” Cornar speaks to the younger man next to him.

  “Right away Cor,” the second armor clad man states and walks back toward the shore to the west.

  Cornar, an expert in the art of warfare, walks away from the explorers investigating the ruins and probes deeper into the ancient structures. He comes to a large circular courtyard, with part of its circumference being the carved mountainside. With his hands on the hilts of his weapons, Cornar looks around the ruinous edifices; his green eyes warily searching for any indigenous life.

  Several minutes pass without incident when Kalder returns with nine others, each clad in armor along with weapons at their sides and backs.

  Cornar solemnly looks at each of them then clears his throat, “We will split up into groups of four; except for myself, Kalder and Midar. Krindal thinks there could be a maze of tunnels and catacombs within the mountains. Be careful; we don’t know what creatures could lurk inside these ruins.”

  As Cornar’s companions break up into three groups, a warrior a half a head shorter than Cornar approaches the leader. This third warrior, Midar, is dressed in similar armor and has a single sheathed straight sword hanging from his waist; a smirking smile smears across his face and his brown hair swaying in the light breeze.

  Once paired together, each of the three groups walk separately toward the buildings protruding from the mountains and search the ruins for a passageway leading into the supposed hewn chambers.

  * * * * *

  Two hours have passed since the band of exploring warriors discovered the inner depths of the ruins. The buildings’ interiors seamlessly continue into the mountains, an illusion that the ruins are a natural part of the landscape, although they are manmade. Dim light pours from the carved stone walls and ceilings; signs of channeled magic coursing through the ruins. The ancient catacombs within the mountain are mostly intact except for an occasional broken wall or a small part of collapsed ceiling.

  In one of the deep sections of the hewn labyrinth, Cornar guardedly leads Kalder and Midar through the catacombs, with weapons drawn.

  As they reach the corner of an intersecting corridor, moist fresh air wisps through the deserted hallwa
y and across the faces of the three warriors.

  “That smells like an ocean breeze,” Midar comments in a whisper.

  “How is that possible?” Kalder mutters.

  “I don’t know”, Cornar whispers in response and rounds the corner.

  Once in the intersecting corridor, Cornar’s emerald eyes dart to his right. Farther in that direction, a beam of natural sunlight pours into the corridor from an adjacent alcove.

  As he sees the sunlight, Cornar stops and motions with his hands; he signals he will move across the alcove and for the others to stay on their side of the opening.

  The eldest warrior silently edges up toward the corner of the alcove. Kalder joins him, and once he is at Cornar’s side, the leading warrior darts across the niche, stealing a glance to a chamber beyond the alcove.

  “Something broke through the outer wall,” Cornar whispers. “I’m going inside that chamber.”

  The aged warrior cautiously steps into the alcove and moves through it toward an open doorway. Beyond the opening is a large chamber; by our standard of reckoning roughly sixty feet by forty feet and stands two stories in height. Opposite of the doorway is a large hole that allows a view of the sea on the eastern side of the island. It is late in the afternoon and the sun is setting, falling in its typical pattern to the east. Portions of the rocky wall litter the ground and several pieces are impaled in the walls.

  In the middle of the chamber is a plain, waist-high, stone pillar. It is partially cracked, with a dark hole in the center of the fracture the thickness of a finger.

  With no clear danger in the room, the eldest warrior sheaths his weapons and steps through the threshold into the large chamber. He walks toward the pillar and once within arm’s reach, Cornar kneels to inspect it. He grazes his hand over the gray smooth cool surface but stops as he touches the edge of the gash in the thick stone.

  In response to Cornar’s touch, four shallow grooves magically take shape, forming a square upon the pillar’s front face. Once the shape is complete, a greenish-gray light glows from within the grooves. In an instant, the light cuts along the center of the outline. The two sections of the solid stone surface move away from the warrior and into the pillar then violently slides apart. Beyond the opened threshold is a darkened hollow space, containing seven objects.

  With narrowed eyes Cornar studies the items within the hollow space; five red scroll cases and two thick books with one resting above the other. One has a small rupture; while the other cases are intact. The two volumes have worn bindings and covers, with a layer of dust lining the edges of the pages.

  Cornar examines the inside of the vault, looking for any signs of traps guarding the objects, but finds nothing. Satisfied with his findings Cornar reaches forward and grabs the highest book. It is plain with no markings on its surface. He turns the book, facing its binding toward himself and sees a simple numeral in the common language of Kalda, “Two”.

  Curious and still on his knee, Cornar opens the book. Dust fills the air as the pages come loose from each other and the smell of the decaying filth tingles his nostrils as he carefully turns the sheets. To his astonishment the pages are miraculously preserved, filled with text written in the common tongue of Kalda. The words “war,” and “dragons,” stand out on many of the pages.

  Intrigued by the text, the warrior glances over the pages until he sees a hand-drawn depiction of a strangely crafted amulet. It has seven sharp prongs that protrude from its main body and three long scaled claws at its base grasping a black polished sphere. Within its center, between the seven prongs, rests a red gem that has many sides.

  On the page next to the diagram, a line from a paragraph catches his eye: “Thus the enemies of the Kaldean Alliance were halted. With the Au’misha’k, properly translated into our language as ‘the amulet of draconic control’, the crimson armies were defeated in a matter of a few years. The power of the amulet was enough to beguile the strongest of the crimson tyrants…”

  With the book still opened in his hands, Cornar looks out the opening and to the sky beyond it. Within his mind the warrior thinks to himself, “The power to control dragons? And texts supporting the legends of the ‘dragon war’? I can’t even imagine what they would do with it; even if it’s true. Either way, I can’t let them have it. I need to get this to–”

  “Cor,” Kalder interrupts from behind the eldest warrior. “What did you find?”

  Closing the book and sharply turning his head to see his subordinate companion in the doorway, Cornar gives a firm reply.

  “Nothing.”

  1

  In the Beginning…

  A light evening breeze rustles through the trees of a dense forest on the island of Soroth on a cool fall night. Throughout the woodland canopy the light of Kalda’s two moons shines through and illuminates a dirt pathway.

  Traveling along the path at a quick pace on horseback is a man slightly over middle-aged. He has short gray hair and a matching colored goatee shrouding his olive complexion. Sapphire blue eyes squint from the wind rushing past his face.

  He is dressed in a dark garb of black tunic and breeches with matching color leather boots and gloves. A short dagger bounces at his waist, a weapon that was almost never used.

  “Insolence,” he whispers as his horse gallops through the woodland, “They’ll pay for their defiance.”

  As the rider finishes the sentence, a large circular clearing opens up before him that houses an old but lavish estate and a tall gray tower behind the dwelling. An expanse of grassy lawn surrounds the front and sides of the estate which extends several hundred feet to the curving tree line. Directly behind the dwelling is a stone wall made of materials identical to the tower. The wall sprawls out in a straight line to the edge of the forest, separating the tower and the lavish estate home.

  The rider kicks the sides of his horse at the sight of the buildings and the steed charges down the path; it turns from dirt to stone at the edge of the clearing and ends to the left of the estate at a metal gate housed within a wall.

  As the horse and his rider approach the estate, the rider pulls back on the reigns and the horse rears on his hind legs, letting out a loud neigh.

  Once the horse comes to a stop, the rider dismounts and lets go of the reigns; he stands and shows his tall and slender build. His sapphire eyes scan the lawn on either side of the stone path he just traveled and an expression of caution forms over his features. With this wary gaze, the rider raises his right hand to shoulder height then slowly opens his palm.

  Satisfied with the emptiness of the lawn, the rider looks to the left of the estate, towards the stables opposite the path. Within the stables is a brown horse tied to a post.

  “Good…” the word oozes from the rider’s mouth.

  “Master Iltar!”

  The rider turns around abruptly at the call of his name and lowers his right hand.

  “Welcome home,” a man of average height states as he exits the estate and moves toward Iltar and his horse.

  “How long has he been here?” Iltar asks as his sapphire eyes continue to scan the expanse in front of the home with a sense of caution.

  “Most of the evening.”

  Without a word, Iltar turns from the lawn and looks toward the tower, peering over the rod gateway within the stone wall. A light shining from a window within the third story of the tower catches his attention.

  Iltar walks further along the stone path which leads directly to the gate. It and the gray granite-like wall are set back from the home a short distance. From the gate, the rest of the property behind the wall can be seen: A neatly manicured lawn surrounded by similar walls which arc and mimic the curving of the tree line; the walls completely hem in the rear part of the estate’s grounds. A straight stone path leads directly from the gate to the tower in the center of the secluded grounds.

  The tower’s entrance is tucked within an alcove, creating a small portico deep enough to stand completely inside it. Two narrowing steps l
ead up to the recessed entrance.

  As Iltar enters the walled part of his forest estate, two guards stationed at the tower’s entrance come to attention. They diligently wait to open its doors for their employer.

  “Master Iltar, you have a guest,” the guard on the left states as Iltar approaches the steps. “Co–”

  “I can see that,” Iltar snarls as he steps in the covered portico. “I’ve been expecting him.”

  “Of course,” the guardsman states and bows his head, holding the door open.

  Iltar enters the first floor of the tower and descends two steps into an open room that encompasses the tower’s first floor. A single circular stairwell marks the center of the space.

  “Those fools have been nothing but an annoyance,” Iltar whispers as he ascends the stairs to the second floor. “The children of Soroth have grown petty and lack discipline.”

  The owner of the tower shakes his head as he arrives on the second story to a vacant room which covers almost three fourths of the floor.

  Iltar sighs as he walks from the stairs to a set of double doors along the center of the wall to the right of the stairs. The doors are partially opened and Iltar swings them further open revealing a messy study; within are a large table with many books and rolled scrolls scattered upon its surface, some of which are spilling onto the floor. There are also several wooden and fabric high-back chairs scattered about and a row of half empty bookshelves along the wall opposite the doors.

  Taking no thought of the mess, Iltar strides to the bookcases. They are divided into four sections, slightly wider than shoulder width and sectioned off by thick pieces of ornately cut wooden molding.

  The owner of the tower comes to the section furthest to his right and pulls at several books. One by one the books hang partway off the shelves, suspended by mechanical means. As Iltar pulls on the last book a clicking sound resonates from the shelf.