Norman the Necromancer

Atalon of Razaria checked his pocket watch for the time. The beautifully crafted watch had been a gift from a very dear friend before the collapse. The hands of the masterfully crafted item ticked over and he sighed.

“It’s time. The enemy city should be under siege by now. Gather the men.”

Atalon watched as a hundred knights of the Brotherhood gathered in this remote forest. The High Priest had finally ordered a major offensive against their foe. They were taking no more chances with this wily enemy. It had cost them too many of their decorated knights already.

This gathering of men was a far cry from the legions he had commanded back in Razaria. Back when he dared to love a woman that one of the crown princes fancied in secret. The prince being incensed by Atalon’s gall, stripped him of his title and took the woman he loved as a conquest. Then he banished Atalon to the wastelands. This had all occurred prior to the collapse. Atalon had laughed himself hoarse when he discovered the lands of the empire had been shattered. The once mighty Golatian Empire had broken apart and likely collapsed under its own hubris. The leadership certainly wasn’t capable of fending for itself.

While Atalon reminisced on old times as his men gathered, one of his lieutenants approached and saluted him.

“Sir, we have located it.”

Atalon nodded. So the woman had told them the truth. “Very good. Join the gathered men.”

Once everyone was gathered and waiting silently, Atalon began his speech. “You know why we are here today. Apolon has given his decree and we must carry it out. Harden your hearts, for our enemy will show no mercy. And give no quarter for our enemies are from the very underworld themselves and have no mercy to show you. May Apolon see you all home safely!”

There was a roar of approval as all of the gathered soldiers shoved their hands into the air.

Atalon waited for the cheers to die down. “Lunesa, please join me.”

A woman dressed in a dark blue dress and mourning veil stepped out of the crowd of armored knights and walked towards him. The two walked toward their objective, a thin silver circle inlaid into the dirt. Piles of dirt lay off to the side from the efforts to uncover the disk. The circle would have been impossible to find, if not for the information gathered from that priestess.

Atalon stopped a few feet outside the circle and turned toward Lunesa. He gave the woman an approving nod. “Are you prepared?”

“Yes, Commander.” The woman replied with zero hesitation. That was good.

“Very well. You know what to do. May Apolon’s light guide you to your beloved.”

Without another word, the woman stepped into the circle and vanished. Atalon gave a loud whistle and all of his knights hurried over. He waited a minute before motioning the first of his people through the circle.

Once Atalon stepped through the portal, he found himself in a large stone room. His breath fogged from the frigid temperatures and ice coated every surface. As Atalon stepped outside the circle, he looked around and spotted the four frozen enemy guards. It was two more than the Priestess had said there would be, but he wasn’t surprised by that. The enemy would obviously increase the defenses at a time like this. If it wasn’t for the siege going on outside, he suspected there would be even more guards in here, not that it would have done them any good. The building shook, letting Atalon know that the battle was in full swing.

He shed a quick tear for Lunesa’s noble sacrifice before ordering his men to kill the frozen guards. Turning yourself into elemental mana was a difficult thing to do, but the ice mage was prepared to join her fallen husband who had died in that enemy trap in the valley. Her sacrifice is what made this plan possible without costing the lives of his men.

As his men went to finish off the immobile guards, he got his first unpleasant surprise. When the enemies were slaughtered, their bodies vanished into thin air.

Atalon growled he hated foul magics, but it was a necessity he learned to live with over a decade ago when the collapse first happened for his world.

“Fralec!”

“Yes, Commander?” the brown-haired man said as he hurried over.

“Signal Garrath and then take half of the knights to hit the enemy guarding the gate from their rear. This should allow the forces outside the city to get a foothold.”

“At once, Commander!” The man gave one last salute before exiting the building.

Unfortunately, the structure was too small to contain all one hundred of his knights, so his men were already exiting the building and taking up defensive positions outside. It wouldn’t take long for the enemy to figure out they were inside the city. But it should be long enough to allow them to cause chaos and for the outside forces to join in on the fighting.

Once Atalon stepped outside, he saw signs of fighting, but no bodies. “Report!” he ordered.

“Commander, it is the same as with the guards. As soon as the enemy dies, their bodies are disappearing.”

It was as he feared, the enemy had been given too much time to prepare. “The rest of you follow me and kill anyone we come across. This city will be purged.”

The group of knights slaughtered their way through the small city as they made their way toward the castle in the distance. This was when Atalon got the next unpleasant surprise. One of his knights screamed and clutched at his chest. By the time Atalon looked over, the man’s entire body looked like it had been left in the desert sun for months. Atalon saw a few whisps of white light being pulled from the desiccated body and sucked into the ground. He saw the brief flash of a magic circle as the light vanished and cursed.

“Move it!” he urged his men as a few more began to fall to the unknown magic.

As they were nearing the castle, a short man in a strange body suit came out of nowhere and slammed into the front rank of his knights like a boulder from a cliff. The man fought like a demon until he was finally put down by his knights. But it had cost his men twenty of their number. At least they had managed to take down one of the enemy elites. But with that one attack, he was now down to less than half of the fifty men he had taken with him and they weren’t even on the hill that the castle stood upon yet. And why wasn’t the damn defensive magic triggering when that strange spell consumed his men? It was an answer he didn’t have, and he had no time to ponder the why as he pushed his men faster.

His men rushed the rest of the way to the wall surrounding the castle and easily cleared the pathetic barrier to land atop the hill. A black beam struck one of the knights at the front, causing the man to drop to his knees. The man screamed and tried to claw his face apart.

Atalon saw the boils quickly covering the man’s face and activated his skill. The skill triggered the defensive magic on the man, causing him to burst into blinding white light. The fire quickly consumed the man, leaving a small pile of ash behind. “May your soul rest in the arms of Apolon,” Atalon preyed as his men rushed past the dead man and into a group of guards.

The fighting was violent as it always was between chosen. But Atalon’s forces still outnumbered the guards two to one. The mage, and ultimately their target, was an issue as he kept trying to cast killing spells into the fray, not caring if his own men got struck by the deadly magic. Atalon was forced to act for a second time. He launched a spear at the mage, enjoying a look of surprise from the man as the spear severed his arm nearly completely and continued traveling through the stone of the building behind him.

The wounded mage clutched his broken arm and retreated into the castle. It was fine, Atalon just needed him out of the fight for now. The man wouldn’t escape.

It only took a few more minutes for his men to dispatch the rest of the guards. Atalon frowned when he saw he only had four of his men left. That shouldn’t be, then he saw the same desiccated corpses on the ground. It was that damn unknown magic again. It seems it took the lives of four of his men without him even noticing. The others had died during the fighting.

It was time to end this travesty of a battle. Atalon stomped angrily towards the door and used another one of his skills. With a quick flick of his sword, A white beam of light tore through the entrance. It was good he hadn’t decided to kick the door in as a sickly green mist spewed from inside, followed by those same creatures from inside the valley trap.

The mist quickly dispersed and Atalon struck down the mindless creatures that exited the castle with contemptuous ease before he walked past the destruction and into the building.

The entryway was a complete wreck, with stone and wood, as well as more of those mindless creatures being scattered everywhere. When Atalon saw what awaited him past the entryway, he smiled for the first time since the battle had begun. Pinned beneath a chunk of stone was the mage, still wearing his strange white armor. As if this man was pure of heart, Atalon sneered.

The man coughed up blood and Atalon was tempted to let him suffer under the crushing embrace of the stone for everything his knights had gone through to get here but thought better of it. Not because he felt bad for the man, but because he didn’t trust that the mage didn’t have something up his sleeve. He stalked toward the pinned man as his remaining knights entered the castle behind him.

Everyone spread out and watched for any more problems. It was a good thing they had. An enraged cook appeared from a side passage with a cleaver and nearly managed to kill another one of Atalon’s men before he was decapitated a moment before his body vanished.

The wounded man sucked down a healing potion as Atalon stepped on the mage's remaining good hand. Atalon didn’t miss the gesture on the man’s hand, he didn’t know what a raised middle finger meant, but it was obviously a rude gesture of some sort. Atalon ground the man’s hand into the floor. The mage glared at him with open defiance, despite his injuries and his predicament. Atalon had a momentary feeling of respect for the man before he plunged his sword through the man’s heart and into the stone floor below.

The man didn’t even scream out, he simply grunted and gave Atalon a bloody smile until his body went limp and his eyes lost their light of life. Unlike the other bodies, this one did not vanish. Atalon assumed that meant the strange spell was somehow powered by this mage. With a grunt, he pulled his sword from the corpse and swung it down again, severing the head from the body. He wasn’t taking any chances.

The bloody head rolled away while Atalon checked the man’s pockets. They were empty, proving the man had used everything in his possession in the failed trap at the door.

But Atalon was not looking for some magical baubles. He was looking for something far more important but that item was not on the dead mage.

“I want two of you posted outside, the rest of you search the castle. The grimoire must be here somewhere.”

As his men left to perform their tasks, Atalon looked around the room. The central table had been knocked across the room by his attack at the entryway but Atalon’s eyes landed on the disgusting visage of a throne at the far side of the room. In a fit of anger, he picked up a chunk of the wall and hurled it at the throne, causing it to explode into a shower of bones.

After less than an hour, both of his lieutenants appeared in the room. Atalon was seated on one of the intact chairs that had surrounded the table with a bloody burlap sack sitting next to him.

“Commander,” both men saluted in unison.

“Report,” Atalon replied, doing his best to keep his exhaustion out of his voice. He was getting too old for these field battles, despite his improved physique from being chosen.

“The city has been secured. The rest of our forces are rounding up the remaining survivors and putting them to the blade…” The man paused as if unsure he wanted to be the bearer of bad news.

If Atalon was honest, he despised the Brotherhood knights. He wasn’t some simpleton that bought into their propaganda and message. Atalon knew that the Brotherhood was made up of criminals and raiders in the guise of a holy order. But Atalon knew how to play the game, and quickly joined their side when they started to make waves after the collapse. “Spit it out,” Atalon growled when Garrath hesitated.

“Our losses are severe. One of the mages seems to think that the spell that makes the dead vanish, was fueling itself by consuming the living.”

Atalon launched himself to his feet and hurled the chair he had been sitting on across the room where it shattered against the wall. Of course, these bastards would use foul magic such as that. If the high priest hadn’t been such a fucking idiot, Atalon could have acted much sooner. His lieutenants remained quiet as Atalon spent his temper on the remaining furniture in the room. When he was done, nothing but kindling remained.

He wasn’t prone to anger, not normally, but this was infuriating. Had he known what preparations the enemy had made, he never would have entered the city, he would have brought all of their siege weapons and pounded the place into gravel, then dragged out any survivors and put them to the sword. Someone was going to pay fuck up when he returned to Apolonia.

Atalon reached down and scooped up the bloody sack and the small book that sat atop it before turning to his lieutenants. “Finish up here, destroy that teleporter, and return to Apolonia as soon as you are able. I need to report to the high priest as soon as possible about our victory here, and our losses.”

With the wizard dead, and his grimoire in Atalon’s possession, there wasn’t any worry about more dead being resurrected. That didn’t mean they were willing to leave any survivors if they could help it. But Atalon knew war, and you never got everyone.

***

After taking the teleporter and one of the supplied zitha mounts, Atalon returned to the capital in only a few days. He was currently bowed in supplication, waiting for the high priest to arrive. It always felt weird to Atalon to be without his armor and weapon, but such things were not allowed within the sanctum of their god. So he kneeled in his simple tunic and pants.

He wasn’t made to wait long as a group of acolyte priests entered the sanctum and adjusted the mirrors to reflect the holy light of the sun onto the dais where the high priest would take his seat on a plain wooden chair. There was no need for anything gaudy and ostentatious, Apolon’s holy light would provide all the majesty they needed. At least that was what they preached.

Soon the high priest sat in the chair, his pure white robes, only containing trace lines of silver and gold, lit up and practically glowed as the light from the mirrors was cast upon him.

“Commander Atalon of Razaria, you have returned. I take it you have good news to report?” The priest asked in a melodic voice.

Atalon finally looked up from his supplication, looking the priest in the eyes. “Our mission was a success.”

“And the book?” another voice asked and Atalon couldn’t quite keep the sneer off his face as he turned toward the Priestess.

The Priestess only chuckled at Atalon, “Spare me your hatred, Commander. I did not choose to be this way.”

The foul creature of unlife slowly approached him and Atalon flexed his hand, wishing he had his sword to cut her down.

“Commander Atalon, control yourself,” the high priest admonished. “If it wasn’t for Priestess Noorani here, we would not have known how far this curse had spread. It was only thanks to her information that we were able to deal the final blow to a menace that we hadn’t even known had taken root in our neighboring zone.”

“We lost a lot of good knights in the city, her information was lacking on that front.”

There was an audible intake from some of the acolytes in the room at Atalon’s open challenge of the high priest’s advice.

The high priest only gave a tired sigh. “Atalon, I think you need to spend more time reflecting on the radiant one’s words. You seem to forget that I am his conduit, what I say comes from his divine mandate.”

Atalon winced at the rebuke from the high priest, using it to hide his utter contempt for the man and his ‘god’. “I will spend the next month in reflection, High Priest.”

“Good, now please answer the Priestess’ question.”

Atalon reached into the satchel on his side and held out the grimoire. The woman gently took it from his hands and rubbed her hand across it with utmost care. “Thank you, Commander. With this, I can remove the curse placed upon me and my remaining people. You have done a service to the ooraki this day.” She then pointed at the bloody sack, “Is that his head?”

Grudgingly, Atalon nodded and pulled the head out of the bag for all to see.

The Priestess sighed. “He could have been a great man…” she let her words trail off.

Atalon could tell she had more to say on that subject, just not for him or those present.

“Destroy the head and cast the ashes into the river.”

Atalon looked toward the high priest, the man simply nodded in reply.

***

Noorani waited until the Commander and the acolytes left the room, leaving her alone with the high priest. She really did think Norman could have been great, but the man simply refused to capitalize on his position. Then he had sent her away like some jaded lover, leaving her in this state. Being undead was a daily torment for her. After freeing herself from beneath her mother’s thumb, she finally managed to gather a following of her own and was ready to start her hierarchy, only to end up in Grothlosburg. Where she died while being forced to do manual labor day in and day out as punishment for not following their asinine rules. It was infuriating to be forced to do something so beneath a female ooraki.

When she got revived, it gave her a second chance to start over. Only she couldn’t even enjoy procreation thanks to the reduction in sensitivity from being undead. That and the fact that she couldn’t conceive more offspring led her to seek out another route. That was when she came across the priest.

Although, that wasn’t the only reason she had decided to make a deal with the high priest. The man was much like her, looking for money and power. The high priest found his power when he encountered that man who went by the name of Apolon, another human who had stumbled into the burning wastes.

She had figured out the high priest’s plan from early on and sought him out. He was intrigued by the possibility of eternal life so was quick to agree to her plans. Although he was hesitant to deploy too many of his forces at the start, Norman’s continued survival and ability to overcome the previous attacks finally convinced him to send a full army to sack Ashvale. The losses had been heavy, according to General Atalon, but in the end, they had succeeded in their mission.

Noorani hated the name Ashvale, it was a stupid name for a stupid idea, and if she had needed food to survive, she would have violently thrown it up at having to join in with the other ooraki in worshiping Norman to hide her true self. If the other ooraki females had learned of who Noorani’s mother was, they would have killed her on the spot. So she worked in the dark and managed to convince some of the males of her plan, it would have been pointless if she was without mates.

“Is it there?” The high priest asked in anticipation.

Noorani ignored the high priest's hungry gaze as she opened the grimoire and flipped through the pages until she came to what she was looking for. The spell that would allow her to take a living form again. As she glanced at the magical diagram and the notes, she frowned slightly. It wasn’t a surprise that she would need to use another living soul to resurrect herself, what she found annoying was that she didn’t understand the magical symbols at all. She could still recreate the spell as it was clearly written in the book, but improving on it or changing it in any way was not something she could do without a foundational understanding of the language used.

She should have realized this, necromancy as Norman had called it, was an unknown word or even concept to her people. Her calling certainly didn’t allow her the understanding required to improve on the magic. That meant her first plan was going to need to be scrapped. But she had made many plans, and her next plan would still be possible.

“It is, do you have a sacrifice prepared?”

The high priest simply replied with a wide smile.