Birth of a Necromancer 038

Silence is as simple as ”the absence of sound”.

Will remembered being taught so by Roughensburg’s Grand Church’s loremaster, who had used to take the time out of his day to teach the young priest about the ways of the world. Will also remembered, however, how he had disagreed with the loremaster -- about silence being simple quiet. Now that he was older, he found himself largely agreeing with his young self's idea of silence. How he had thought it to be so much more than quiet.

Like darkness, silence tends to come in many forms. It is true that it can take the shape of simple quiet, but true silence is so much more than a little lack of ambiance. Any warrior would agree with that statement, because they have felt ”true silence”. The silence that comes before a battle.

Will felt true silence, as he sprinted down the brightly lit hallway, followed by no-one but his shadow. Seldom had he felt something as horrifying as knowing that everyone around him was likely facing inevitable doom; and that there was nothing he could do about it.

The young priest ran and ran, bringing him closer and closer to the double doors, which led the way to the courtyard in which the ghastly beings were hidden away.

’How did they get in?’, ’How is that thing still alive.’, ’What am I going to do?!’

Those were the sort of thoughts that occupied the priest’s young, troubled mind, as he made his lonely walk towards the courtyard.

He felt as if he had been locked in a tiny, dark, and cramped room with no-one but himself to depend on. The world appeared to be closing in around him, faster and faster, the closer he got to the citadel’s exit. It felt like the outcome of the conflict to come had been predetermined; everyone was facing death.

And who was to blame?

Will was the one at fault. Will and everyone who had ever claimed to be stronger than the lich. Everyone who had ever claimed that the lich was dead, and every single person that was currently, and wrongfully, celebrating the lich’s defeat.

Caught up in thought, the young priest suddenly found himself before the door to the courtyard. He was surrounded only by air, and the effulgent light that came from the brilliant chandeliers, which hung from the impressive ceiling that was made completely from marble.

Without a single second’s worth of hesitation, the priest opened the heavy wooden door, and was greeted by the laughter of the oblivious people outside. They didn’t know that their lives were in peril, and they likely wouldn’t believe him, should he try to convince them that they were.

”Where are you?” The young priest whispered to himself, while searching for the tree under which he had seen the lich.

It had seemed so awfully obvious, when he was sitting in the dining hall, but now that he was outside; outside with the masses, he suddenly realized how difficult it would be for your average person to spot the dangerous beings. They were hiding well. Will could see that now.

He hadn’t noticed before, but the dining hall was positioned just a tiny bit higher than the lush, green fields that made up the area outside, giving everyone sitting up there a far better view of the yard.

After a while of looking, he realized that he had been staring at the tree he had been looking for, for a while. Feeling stupid as all hell, he started approaching it -- wearily and well knowing of the fact that he could be struck down, even eaten, should he come at his enemies in a manner that could be perceived as just the slightest bit suspicious.

Not long did it take for him to reach the tree. He was ready to strike at his opponent, ready to kill the lich again. An even shorter while passed, however, before he realized that something was off.

The lich was gone.

Uncertain of whether or not to continue looking around the tree, the priest took a few steps back. He backed into someone, to whom he politely apologized.

Will turned around to see a white-robed man, a priest – like himself.

”Sorry.” Said the other priest with an accent that made him sound as if he wasn’t from around Roughensburg, which seemed strange.

All priests were trained in the capital, so all priests tended to sound the same. The other priest didn’t look old enough for his accent to have changed, due to living on the countryside.

”You don’t sound like you’re from around here.” Will said, suddenly suspicious of the man he had bumped into.

He was getting more and more unsettled by the second.

The young priest was just about to loudly proclaim the other man an impostor. The fraud was faster than him, though.

”I’m sorry, priest. I’m not from around here, nor am I a priest.” Said the strange man, sounding no less suspicious than before.

Will decided to listen. What even was the point, if the man intended to come clean as an impostor in the first place? Will made sure to make it clear that he was listening, but that his patience was short, and that the impostor's life would be cut just as short, should he try anything funny.

”Go on.”

"You see priest, I'm looking for a certain someone." The white-robed, hooded man said.

The young priest looked at him for a second. He nodded, making it clear that he was still listening.

"He has blonde hair." The man began, stuffing his hands away inside his robes.

"There are a lot of people with blonde hair. Get to it." 

Will got a quick look at the man's face from underneath the hood. The man's skin was pale, as if he hadn't seen sun in years. A smile had also found its way unto the man's scarred face.

"He's a priest." The pale man continued, while slowly pulling his hand out from underneath his stolen robes.

A chill ran down the young priest's spine, as he remembered something. He had been so occupied with thinking about the whereabouts of the lich that he had completely forgotten something. Something just as important. The lich hadn't been alone. No, it had been sitting back to back with a man in white robes. A man in stolen, white robes.

"But he has a very distinctive characteristic. You'll instantly know who he is, I'm sure." The man said.

Will gulped. He looked down at the strange man's hand, which he thought had been inactive during their conversation. It hadn't. It was clutching something; something sharp. 

"The most peculiar thing about him as that, well, he's fucking dead!" Shouted the man, as he lashed out at Will with a knife.

The young priest managed to block the attack with his wrist, which was sliced halfway off. Blood spewed from the open wound, which Will tried his best to hold shut with his unharmed hand. 

"Help, guards! Over here!" Will cried out.

He was in pain, and only surrounded by cheerful commoners without a care in the world. They hadn't even noticed the knife fight, which was going on right next to them. Most of them were probably used to small-scale fights breaking out in their neighborhoods. Many of them were extremely poor, after all. In short, no-one could hear the young man, as he shouted.

"You weren't supposed to dodge that." Said the assassin, as he wiped Will's blood off of his knife with a part of his already dirty robes.

He then went on to grab a hold of his white hood. The man pulled it off in one swift motion, revealing his unwashed, glistening black hair, his scarred face, and most noticeably; his elven ears.

"Why are you after me?" Will asked, relatively calmly, as he healed his hand with magic. 

"Do I, an elf, really need an excuse to go after my mortal enemy, the Church?" Asked the young, black haired elf. 

The young priest didn't waste time answering. Instead, he took his staff, which he always kept by his side. He then went on to swing it at the elf, who was standing still, apparently expecting an answer.

"That's what you get for talking while you-" Will began, but was abruptly cut off by a fist, which hit his gut so hard that every ounce of life left the young priest's body.

The elf had dodged his strike, swiftly following it up by striking him in one, incredibly fluid motion. Furthermore, the murderous young elf was now holding Will tightly with his left hand, while preparing his right to stab the unfortunate young man. 

"Purify!" Gasped the young priest, in hopes that it would blind the attacker, which it did. 

It did more than that, actually.

"Argh, fuck!" Shouted the elf.

He had apparently been hurt by the spell, which was strange, seeing as it shouldn't be able to hurt anything but the undead.

"You weren't supposed to try that..." The elf hissed, through gritted teeth, before stretching out a palm of his own.

Will knew what was coming next. He was a magic-user, himself, but he wasn't very accustomed to fighting opponents who were that, too. Therefore, the young priest dodged slightly too late.

"Negative Surge!" 

The young priest was hit in the chest by a black ray, which looked darker than anything he had seen in his life. In fact, it was so dark that it, like light, appeared to encompass all colors at the same time. As fascinating as that was, it was also a supremely a unpleasant experience. It felt as if the young priest's very being was being sucked out of him, and slowly replaced by something else. Something evil.

 

Luckily, Will had managed to shield himself with the Light Magic spell, ⌈ Holy Shield ⌋, so the damage was minimal. 

The young priest proceeded to stand up. People around the priest and the elf had begun to take notice of the events around them.

"What the hell's goin' on over here?" One of them shouted, which was followed by many other such cries of disgruntlement.

"I'd like to know that, too. How are you able to use Taboo Magic?" Asked Will, who was having slight troubles with his breathing after having been hit with both spells, fists, and knives in no particular order. 

Guards and adventurers had begun flooding the courtyard, too, closely followed by the white-robed priests, who had noticed the unlawful individual who was wearing their robes. More than anything, though, they had noticed the black light that had emanated from the young elf's palm, just a second ago. The black light that had actively been used by heretics, years back.

"Oh this wasn't quite what I had hoped for." The black haired, young elf said, although he didn't sound particularly troubled.

Will knew why.

"Stay away from anyone who's wearing black robes, everyone! They're not people."

"You just have to spoil everything, don't you. My business isn't with you, anyway, so if you'd step aside-" The young elf began, only to be interrupted by a fireball, which had recklessly been flung his way, only missing him by a hair's breadth.

Will followed the black, hazy trail from the fireball back to it's point of origination. There stood Lin, the magician, with a frantic look in her eyes. She had, unsurprisingly, shot the extremely destructive spell into the mass of people, luckily without injuring anyone. At her side stood her two companions, Robinia and Fang.

The entire trio looked absolutely horrified.

"Oh, just in time." The elf said.

He then went on to snap his fingers. As he did that, as if they were one being, the black-robed individuals around the courtyard revealed their rotten, decomposed faces.

There had to be at least five hundred of them, Will figured. That was far more than he had originally anticipated. Yes, he had expected there to be a couple of dozens, but not five hundred. Once again, the young priest had proven to himself that he had much to learn, because once again, he had fallen for the enemy's ploy. 

"You see, my servant and I took the liberty of going through your trash. I found some of your toys there, and boy were they glad to see me. And boy would they like to set the record straight with some of you nobles." Said the elf, loudly, so that everyone could hear him.

"One man's trash, another man's fucking treasure, am I right?" The elf angrily shouted, before snapping his fingers once again.

This time, the undead began charging every last living person in the courtyard, swiftly turning the otherwise idyllic garden into a hell-like scene. There was no saving the commoners; they were being torn apart, ripped to shreds, and even eaten by the ghoulish undead.

The dead trampled the food, the people, and the garden around them completely underfoot, killing everyone and everything in their presence.

"Push them back!" Will shouted, desperately trying to organize the appalled guards.

How could he have been so stupid? By not informing everyone of the minor undead's presence, he had doomed hundreds, maybe even thousands of people. How could he ever have thought that not informing the masses of the danger they were in would ever save anyone? 

The guards were joining the fray now. They were Roughensburg's best. Kanburroughs best, in fact. They were the Provincial Troops, so surely they would be able to kill a measly few dead people. 

That assumption, however, was only partially correct. The undead had previously proved to be formidable foes, when faced by people who were inexperienced in fighting their kind. The guards weren't being killed, but they weren't exactly winning either.

The whole ordeal was starting to look too much like the Battle for Elcrada. 

Too caught up in the horrific nature of the situation to notice anything for a while, Will suddenly felt someone grab his shoulder. 

It was Robinia.

She was flanked by Fang and Lin, who were glaring daggers at the young elf, who appeared to be taking in the carnage with utmost pleasure. 

"Let me help you." She said, sounding extremely serious, compared to her usual high-and-mighty attitude. 

Will simply nodded, feeling too weak to do anything else. The young priest tried his best to muster the strength to utter the words "I'm sorry", but found himself incapable of doing so. The guilt of being responsible for every single dead person around him was too heavy. 

Finally, after a while had passed, the young priest managed to face the three people, who appeared to be waiting for him to say something.

"Robinia... I'm sorry..." Will whispered.

He could feel the tears pressing on the back of his eyes. The former monk couldn't remember the last time he had cried, and now seemed like the wrongest of times. 

The elven girl didn't appear to care though.

"If you're just going to cry instead of helping me, you should just throw yourself at the zombies." Robinia coldly said, before sprinting at the undead horde's commander, closely followed by her companions.

Somehow, that was enough for Will to realize that he could still do something. The battle wasn't lost, as long as he fought on. The young priest found himself filled with courage, at the sight of the otherwise cowardly noble girl sprinting fourth. 

He was about to join her, but that was when he noticed something.

A tall, dark figure standing at the edge of his vision. 

Will turned around to face the ghastly being, well-knowing of what it was. He had been prepared to face it, ever since he stepped out the doors from the citadel. 

'Sorry, Robinia, but I'm going to throw myself at a lich instead.' The young priest thought to himself, before storming onward. 

His facial expression was dead serious. He knew how powerful the lich was, but what else could he do? Will was the most competent among the fighters who weren't already locked in battle with the undead army.

He reached the lich, who was waiting for him. It was as if they had both silently challenged each other to a fight to the death.

"Your name..?" Asked the lich.

"Will. Will Siantia."

"Zennereth."

The two of them just stood there, watching each other. Will could feel his blood becoming more and more solid, by the second. He knew that he would have to start the battle, unless he was willing to freeze to death.

But the two of them held each other in too high regard. Neither the lich, nor the young priest were used to hard-fought battles, making their relationship that of rivals; each fighting for their own cause.

"May the best man win." Said Will, before sprinting head-first against the lich.

"I am no man..." Zennereth replied, ready to defend himself with his massive, two-handed sword.

 

And so, three great battles had begun around the beautiful, corpse-filled courtyard.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter end