Time of the Necromancer: Chapter 8

The hard snow and cold air were a sharp contract to the desert they’d left. For Benidict it felt like returning home but for the others it was just unpleasantly cool. From the walkway they stared at the ruins of the castle. The base was still intact but the spires and towers above had long since collapsed into ruin.

What was left was covered with ice as the tundra sought to reclaim the castle. But the ground was bare of anything that would have sprouted life. Nothing grew in this ground or over these ruins because the Calamity didn’t allow it. At least not yet. Even in the three years since it happened there was still barely any signs that other living creatures ventured there.

Except for a recent set of footsteps leading up to the castle. Vincent crouched to look at them closer. “Think that’s them?”

“I can’t imagine who else it would be,” Alison replied shivering and letting her eyes bleed black.

“Sis you feeling what I’m feeling?” Alistair asked flexing his hands.

She nodded slowly shifting her weight back and forth on her feet, “Death magic. It’s almost as if our teacher were here.”

“Which means I was correct. The necromancer did come here,” Benidict said and he seemed to take no pleasure in that fact. “Can you sense where they are? Or where Morrigan is?”

Alison shook her head, “We can’t pin point anything. It’s just a lot of,” she waved her hand around and shook her head. “Fog. We hate saying that but neither of us have a better description.”

“It’s fine Alison,” Benidict said smiling gently. “We’ll just have to be careful.”

Following the path slowly they arrived at the gate that once would have protected them from harm. Both of the iron gates had been ripped off their hinges but one of them had been sliced open. They knew one came from the Calamity but the other was new. As they approached Alistair touched a gloved hand to the hewn metal.

They continued forward this time going to the front doors of the castle itself. Like the gate they just past, these looked like they had been blown and cut off their hinges Walking into the front hallway a section of the roof had collapsed with debris.

As they approached they saw that a tower had fallen down and filled it with broken stone covering the entire hallway. Light peaked through from the other side in a corner near the top but they’d have to climb if they even wanted to get through.

“We should split up from here,” Benidict pointed ahead of them. “That’ll take you to the ballroom and by extension Her Majesty’s throne room. Myself and Alison will go that way. Al, you and Vincent can go down the right and explore the left wing. The right wing we can attempt to go down if we don’t find anything at all.”

“Splitting up because Al and you know the castle but you want to make sure a mage stays with each group?” Alison asked.

“Exactly. You two keep trying to sense what you can,” Benidict instructed. “But be careful. I don’t know what still lurks within the castle.”

“We’ll be careful,” Vincent waved him away and stood beside Alistair. “Come on big guy. Been awhile since we’ve done anything together.”

Alistair couldn’t help his smile, “That’s true.” Looking at his sister and Benidict he squeezed both their hands. “Be careful.”

“Of course,” Alison saluted and then hugged him. “You do the same.”

Pulling away from her he kissed Benidict lightly. Vincent smiled at Alison who returned it the best she could. He grinned and kissed her forehead. “I’ll not to be gone long.”

The pair turned and headed down the side hallway with Alistair leading them. Sensing magic was always a strange prospect, it was like trying to smell perfume that you didn’t know personally while outside in the rain. You knew it was there and it would be different but beyond that it was difficult.

While he focused on that Vincent walked beside him staring at the cracked and broken pictures along the windows. They may have been worth something in an age long past but now they were just crumple and torn parchment.

He walked over to one of the paintings and stared at the subject. The woman in the painting was wearing a white gown, smooth as the day it was stitched. Her hands were together in her lap and her blond hair pulled back. But her skin was somehow paler than that dress, almost crystalline. And her eyes were the reddest he’d ever seen.

He reached toward them, touching the painting. He yanked his hand back as his finger dripping with fresh blood. Looking at the prick he stared at the painting. The eye glowed with a red light and then faded to nothing again. He sucked on his finger lightly and watched the painting and the other paintings with new respect.

“Hey Vince I think I may have found something,” Alistair was already at the far end of the hallway. “What are you doing all the way down there?”

“Nothing. I’m coming,” he backed away giving the painting one last look before running down the hallway.

They stood in front of a library but like much of the rest of the castle part of the ceiling was gone. Piles of snow had found their way within and the wind had blown many books off their shelves. There were couches and tables that had somehow managed to stay in one piece.

Alistair picked up a book flipping through the pages. He could barely read the language, having been taught by Morrigan and Benidict.. Setting the book down on a nearby table he kept exploring.

Vincent walked out to an open circular area where all the book shelves seemed to converge or at the very least grouped together. Glancing at the ground it was free of anything like snow but the carpet that lined the floor was peeling off in long trails. Looking up he could see a chandelier that was still hanging on by a few frail golden links

Stepping through the stacks Alistair closed his eyes as pain flashed behind them. He didn’t get why or where it came from but it was cold. A dagger of ice wedged firmly in his brain. Clenching his fingers, he tried to parse out the pain to figure out where it came from. Stumbling to the side he leaned against a book shelf.

“Alright remember what your sister taught you,” he mumbled to himself. Touching the air like it were real he traced his fingers along the strands of magic that he could feel. A string that would at the very least point him in the direction of the source. Digging one of his nails into his palm the fresh pain sharpened his focus and he looked toward the far wall.

At first, he could only see a bunch of book shelves, but the thing he was sensing was beyond that.  Like it was just outside the library or coming. If he remembered correctly he knew the throne room was in that direction. His head ached and he bent over.

“Vince!”

“What’s up Al?” he shouted running over to him “You okay?”

Pushing himself up he tried to nod and coughed. “Yeah. I’m good.” Pointing toward the book shelves he waved his hand, “Past there. There’s a window. And somewhere over there I’m feeling some weird magic. It’s going toward the throne room but form the outside. And if I can feel them they can feel me.”

“You guys are so weird. I’ll check out the window,” Drawing his weapons he sprinted in the direction that, circling around the shelf and felt a gust of wind. Shivering he stepped forward and heard an echo of glass clattering against something more solid than the peeling carpet. Stepping around the corner slowly he stared out the shattered window. And the thing climbing through the window.

It was a man wearing a suit that had long since been torn away and ruined by the elements but still retained some semblance of its elegance. He climbed through the open hole in the window and dragged himself to his feet. If it weren’t for the paleness of his skin and the gaping hole in his neck he’d assume he was alive.

“Alright so pretty sure that’s a fuckin bad thing,” Vincent mumbled and raised the double barreled revolver. Lining up the shot and taking a breath he pulled the trigger like he had dozens of times. The zombie hit the ground with a solid thud and lay still against the ground.

He started to say something when he was struck in the back of the head. Stumbling forward he looked up at the assailant and it was another zombie, a woman in a dress wielding a thick book. Like the other one she looked almost alive except for the holes where her eyes should’ve been. Another jumped from the darkness this time wielding a candle stick.

Vincent flipped his sword around blocked the stick and another heavy thump from the book sent him stumbling forward. Rolling he made sure to put distance between himself and the undead. “Hey Al a little help!”

Looking over his shoulder as he ran he saw that the library that had been empty not minutes before was now becoming swarmed with former men and women of Cerise. All of which were lurching and lumbering their way forward. He hadn’t seen zombies since they were captured years ago in Varuct. They had been on their side and it had been eerie. Being on the opposite end made it that much worse.

A pair of zombies lunged at him faster than he’d given them credit for. Yanking his arm he sliced the zombie’s hands clean off but it didn’t stop. It lunged teeth first and he raised his arm shouting when it bit down. Punching it in the head it let go as it fell down but dragged his arm in the process.

Two more zombies collapsed on him in that instance. Firing off a few quick shots he blasted the head off one from the jaw up but the second fell onto him awkwardly. Thrusting his blood soaked sword into the ground he grunted and shoved the zombie off him. Thinking quickly he looked toward one of the book shelves and sprinted at it.

He jumped, hitting the side of it and started climbing to get to the top but the wood started to creak. Suddenly the shelves that were sturdy at first began to collapse and his upward momentum came to a halt as gravity stole him back.

Before he could land back in the sea of the undead, he was caught out of the air and landing among the book shelves. Alistair set him down lightly pulling his own sword free. “Good timing. Why do these zombies look almost alive?”

“I have no idea. They were like that back at the temple. That necromancer is definitely here,” he said and pressed his hand to the flat of the great sword. His eyes turned red as blood raced along the edges and flat turning the weapon crimson. Several of the zombies were gathered below them and shook the case trying to bring it down and them with it.

They jumped to another book case and another moving as fast as they could to put distance between them. Mid jump a gunshot rang out missing them but it was enough to startle them. Both stumbled as the bookshelves’ rotted wood collapsed under their feet and then slid to the ground in a heap.

Groaning Vincent pushed to his feet and helped Alistair stand. He watched beyond them and saw a pair of armored zombies raise guns after reloading and aimed at them. “Zombies aren’t supposed to be this smart right?” he asked as the pair of them through the door. Bullets flew at them again slamming into the door and through to the opposite wall.

“No, they aren’t,” Alistair replied looking down the hallway and his eyes widened. “We’ve got more company.”

Vincent followed his gaze and finally just swore under his breath A trio of full armored knights were running toward them brandishing swords. Vincent got to his feet readying his sword and gun. The blades collided and he shot one in the chest dragging them down.

Alistair got in front of him and blocked the first swings of the knight. Shoving it back with a burst of muscle he watched one stumble to the ground. Jumping he landed on a wall and then dove straight down driving his sword into the chest of one soldier. Dragging the sword out he turned and stabbed the second before it could finish getting off the ground.

“Let’s go find your sister and Benidict,” Vincent said and flinched as the door beside them banged. It cracked at the top but something about the door jammed and now they tried to climb and shove themselves through the hole. Alistair ran back to his side avoiding the arms of the zombies and then back the way they came.

Breaking back into the hallway they turned toward the debris. Sheathing their weapons they ran to the pile and climbed, seeing the purchase needed to get from one spot to another. Alistair got there first swinging his legs over and sliding under the archway.

Vincent landed beside him with a hard grunt. Looking up the stairs he saw a glow emanating from the large door above. Stepping forward slowly the ground shook and he stumbled backwards. “What is that?” he asked and looked at Alistair.

“It’s the necromancer. They’re casting a big spell. But where are my sister and Ben?

“Great question.”

Going to the long curving stairs they climbed them two at a time to the next floor and as they approached the ground shook. Not like the rumble of an explosion or earthquake but a steady vibrating hum that only got more intense as they went higher. When they finally reached the carpeted floor above, they were greeted by another large pair of double doors except these looked like they had recently opened and sealed tight.

Alistair walked up and pressed his hand against the door. He felt it rumbling even harder than the ground beneath his feet. It was like touching a pot that was ready to steam over. “I can sense my sister on the other side. Ben too.”

“Then let’s break this thing down and get over there. Before the zombies figure out how doors work and chase after us.” He tapped his sword against it and before he could make another comment he was blown backwards and slammed into the hand rail.

“I think the door is magically protected,” Alistair said tapping his finger against it. He could feel a jolt of feedback in response. Despite the gentle tap it wasn’t fond of being touched in any capacity. “I might be able to break it down. Maybe. Destroying magic barriers isn’t exactly my forte.”

Stone cracked and both turned behind them toward the rubble. “Looks like we’re really running out of-“

The stone glowed with purple light and exploded outward. The rocks rained down breaking the railing and chunking the foundation wall. Alistair and Vincent held onto each other for balance hoping that the floor wouldn’t fall beneath their feet as well. Once the smoke faded and the rocks rolled away and Vincent readied his sword but blinked confused.

A man and a woman came forward first wielding shovels, one with an old brown cloak covering half his body with dark braided hair and a glowing silver eye. The other had a torn blouse and skirt, hair bushy but held back by a pony tail, and a glowing eye just like the mans. They were talking to one another and they could barely hear their voices.

Behind them was a masked man in a colorful mismatched leotard, almost prancing forward. Though their mask was smiling something about them made the silliness of their walk unsettling. But beside them was a tall being made of wood with guns in both hands, an old poncho, a strangely shaped head with a glowing red eye. The banter between the two was night and day yet very familiar.

“Those don’t look like zombies,” Vincent said stating the obvious. “Think they’re with the necromancer?”

“The two with the shovels feel like them. Similar magic,” Alistair tensed. “But they weren’t here already. Reinforcements?”

“Maybe. Would be our luck that there’s more of them,” Magic pulsed behind them and he knew it was the door and whatever was going on behind it. “But we don’t have time to fight them too. We need to get past this damn door.”

“Hey!” Both turned as the four walked toward them and one pointed a shovel at them. “Who are you two?”

“What’s it to ya?” Vincent shouted back earning a light tap from Alistair. “What? Felt appropriate.”

“It’ll be the difference between us having to kill a necromancer or having to kill the necromancer and you. Up to you,” the gun wielder.

Vincent was about to shout something back when he paused staring at the guy with the shovel. “Wait. I know you.”

Walking over to the banister he narrowed his eyes then ran down the steps. Jumping the last bit he landed with a little stumble and looked closer at the stranger. “Ryze right?”

Ryze paused, raising his eyebrow and it dawned on him. “The map maker. I can’t say I expected to run into you of all people here.”

“Feelings mutual. I take it the map was good.”

He nodded and then pointed beyond at the door. “You being here leads me to think we we’re on the same side.”

“Long story short we need a door broken down and a necromancer stopped.”

“I think what we want is in line,” the jester said prancing forward. “Then for the time being we can work entwine.”

Vincent stared at the jester and raised his eyebrow but didn’t linger on him. “Yeah. Sure. If you can break the spell on the door we can definitely be on the same side.”

Alistair joined Vincent and Ryze stared at him with narrowed eyes. “You. You’re not that girl but you feel like her. Her brother probably.”

“How do you know about my sister?” he asked frowning hard.

“Does it matter?” the single eyed constructed said raising their gun on their shoulder. “We’re acquainted. Joy. Let’s get to what we came here for.”

Ryze and the other shovel wielder exchanged glances. “They have a point,” she said. “Let’s drop this barrier.”

“You can do that?” Alistair asked as they took to the stairs again.

Ryze nodded tapping his shovel against the stairs as he climbed them. “Yes,” once he reached the top he touched his shovel to the door. He flinched slightly and scowled. “This is going to take some time. But I hope whoever is on the other side of the door is talented. It’s getting intense over there.”