Dark Age Year 871
Twenty Third day of the Third month
As both of them gave chase to the necromancer, who was quickly heading for the forests that surrounded the homestead, directing the undead not engaged in fighting a fully transformed Rayner towards them. Trying to block their advance, he could hear what sounded like a grim and frightful slaughter taking place behind him. An orgy of noises filled the air, from wolfish howls and bestial roars to the crunching of armour and bones, limbs being sliced or torn off. He even heard the squirting sounds of what seemed to be blood splashing onto the ground below. The sounds, heard in isolation or together, would be bone-chilling, to say the least.
It’s a good thing that we fought on the night just after a full moon. If it had been just before, I doubt I would have won.
Although Rayner was the first lycanthrope he had ever encountered in the flesh, he was thankful that the books he had read about them were quite accurate, to say the least. He didn’t know for sure if Rayner was a cursed or a born type of lycanthrope, although all evidence so far pointed to him being a cursed type. This would explain a lot, the uncontrollable temper for one. Unlike those who were born with lycanthropy, those who were cursed with it couldn’t control it nor could they assume a wolf form; only those born with it could assume that form. Outwardly, there wasn’t much difference; both of them were still slaves to the cycles of the moon, growing stronger and stronger the closer the moon drew, and then being taken to their weakest point at the start of the cycle of the new moon, and could assume the dreaded form that was a perfect blend between man and wolf.
If the circumstances where not so dire. I would feel quite privileged to witness such a thing.
However, he couldn’t lose focus as several zombies were blocking his path, and Cedric advanced. The zombies lunged at him, but with a quick flick of his wrist, he slashed into them with his blade, sending their heads flying through the air to land with a thud on the ground like heavy leaves. Meanwhile, Cedric smashed in the head of one zombie that tried to grab onto him with his shield. Then, with a swift strike, he split its head wide open like an egg with his axe. Its rotting and maggot-ridden brain reduced to nothing more than a pus-ridden mush, oozing out of the skull like a rotting egg yolk.
Tharos could see a small look of horror and disgust on Cedric’s face out of the corner of his eye as the zombie dropped to the ground, its brain matter spilling out.
He has a long way to go. Tharos thought to himself. While zombies by themselves were not tough opponents to deal with for anyone with basic survival instincts or combat prowess, they were much more dangerous in massive groups. Even the greatest warrior would be overwhelmed after having to deal with wave after wave of endless dead flesh that never tired, never had to breathe, and wouldn’t stop until they were completely destroyed. Although he would have preferred Cenric to cut his teeth on living opponents that could provide more of a challenge, such as bandits, beggars couldn’t be choosers. He had to admit that a necromancer and these undead creatures would prove to be perfect training material. If Cenric could learn to handle such foul abominations, he could learn to handle anything. Giving into fear and losing your cool was a great killer on the battlefield, similar to overconfidence.
As they finished off the group of zombies, Tharos sensed a few more approaching from behind. The necromancer was only a few dozen feet away, heading into the treeline and disappearing into the thick bushes. It was just another stalling attempt, but Tharos wouldn’t fall for it. He had to press the attack now, while the necromancer was on the back-foot.
Tharos quickly turned to Cenric. “There are zombies behind us. You take care of them and catch up with me afterwards. I am going after the necromancer.”
Cenric nodded quickly. “Understood.”
Tharos rushed to the treeline and through the bushes in hot pursuit of the necromancer. It was dark, and he could barely see anything outside the faint bluish tint of moonlight pouring through the foliage in solid beams of blue. Although he didn’t need to rely much on sight, he could sense the necromancer getting farther and farther away, and he wouldn’t let them. He had to finish this as quickly as possible. Every second was another second for the undead horde descending on Aurelia Silva to gain ground. Every minute could result in another death, a death that could have been prevented.
As he ran through the forest, following the necromancer’s trail, several bolts of green energy came flying straight at him from the trees. Tharos dodged and weaved through them with great speed, narrowly avoiding one that almost hit his head. A green flash of light passed through his eyes. It was quite pretty to look at, but he didn’t want to be hit by one of those things.
After a few more minutes of running through the forest, the sounds of battle and wildlife echoing out of every shadow, Tharos spotted the necromancer heading towards a clearing. As Tharos entered the clearing and saw the necromancer standing in the centre, breathing heavily beneath their mask, trying to catch their breath, behind them was a massive tree and several bushes laden with pink berries. Tharos recognised the berries as Fragaria berries, which were abundant in this forest. The necromancer finished catching their breath and directed their wand at Tharos.
Tharos tightened his grip on his sword as he aimed it at the necromancer, looking them in the eye and saying firmly, “This doesn’t need to end in bloodshed. Call off your horde and spare the village. I’m not sure what Nico did to you, but must it lead to the loss of so many innocent lives?” Tharos could sense that the necromancer was reaching their limit, and they would soon have to make a choice. Either call off the undead horde to regain some of their energy, or be forced to fight until they run out.
From underneath the mask, the necromancer spoke, “Innocent? If you knew what they let happen, you wouldn’t think they were so innocent. I don’t know what lies that old fool has told you, but I will have justice.”
“Justice for what and for whom?” Tharos asked, confused. There was context he was missing, and although he had some theories, he didn’t have enough concrete proof for them to be anything more than theories.
“It doesn’t matter at this point, mercenary. Soon, I will have my revenge, and you will join your employer in the afterlife. So die.” A green flash of light emanated from their wand, with bolts of greenish energy hurtling towards him at a rapid speed.
Tharos dodged the bolts by ducking and weaving to the side, deflecting some of them with his blade. Before the necromancer could cast another volley, Tharos seeing this was the opportunity to strike. Rushed in and closing the gap, Tharos swiftly slashed downward with his blade. The necromancer tried to sidestep but wasn’t fast enough, and the blade hit them in the chest, cutting a straight slash through their robe, revealing pale skin. A trail of blood followed the blade’s path as it completed its arc, readying for another strike. However, the necromancer swiftly pulled out a vial from their pocket, shattering it on the ground. The impact sent both of them flying back several feet, landing with a thud. The necromancer collided with a tree, causing apples to fall to the ground.
As Tharos recovered and got to his feet, he could see that blood was starting to flow and spread through the necromancer’s clothing, quickly forming a pool beneath them. He didn’t need to be a doctor to realise that this injury was going to be fatal. He could feel the necromancer’s life force fading rapidly, even as the necromancer tried to reach for a red vial in one of their pockets. Their hands weakly tried to grab the vial, but it was evident that their strength was failing; they could barely lift there arms or even move their fingers.
As Tharos walked closer, he saw the necromancer weakly look up at him and say, “Funny, it’s ending right where it all began.”
Where what began? Tharos thought to himself
As Tharos stood watching the necromancer start to fade away, he heard footsteps and realised it was Cenric who had just entered the clearing. Cenric, covered in blood, rushed over to Tharos, stopping right next to him. Now seeing the necromancer clearly and realising they were dying, Cenric asked, “Is it over?”
Tharos replied, “Yes, it’s going to be over soon.”
As they stood there and the necromancer’s body started to go limp, and their head started to tilt forward, the mask they wore fell off, revealing their face. What both Tharos and Cenric expected was to see a half-corpse visage that was the stuff of nightmares, and they wouldn’t be wrong to think so. However, both Tharos and Cenric were shocked at what they saw. It was a woman, not just any woman, but a woman they recognised, a woman they didn’t think they would see. It was Faustina. Although she looked slightly different with sunken eyes and a corpse-like appearance, and her short curly hair was now matted, there was no mistaking it was her. Cenric, wide-eyed, looked at Tharos as if he was seeking an answer, an answer that Tharos didn’t have.
Tharos, in his wildest dreams, had never imagined this scenario. However, upon further reflection, it did make some sort of sense. There were overlaps between certain aspects of alchemy and necromancy, leading him to consider the possibility that the necromancer had come to the area to obtain Faustina’s alchemical research. It was not uncommon for mages to resort to theft or violence in order to acquire valuable research materials, and Tharos speculated that Faustina may have been killed while Ozias got caught in the crossfire. This revelation sparked a new theory in his mind, but he needed one more piece of the puzzle to confirm it.
“Tharos, what is going on here?” Cenric asked, his voice filled with panic and confusion.
“I don’t know,” it was a sentence that Tharos didn’t like uttering, but there was only one way to find out. Even though he didn’t like to do this and it was quite risky, he had to get answers. He needed to know why for certain.
Touching her pale forehead, Tharos forced himself into her mind. He had to work quickly because she was fading fast. However, since she was dying, the mental barriers that would have blocked and prevented him from fully accessing someone mind were non-existent.
As he delved into her mind, he glimpsed flashes of her childhood, her early days of studying as a mage, and moments from when she and Ozias first met. However, as he tried to probe further, the images began to blur until they were mere vague impressions. The final image Tharos witnessed was a group of armed individuals led by an elderly man confronting a young man on his front porch. Suddenly, he was engulfed by intense feelings of sadness, guilt, anger, and a warm, almost pulsating sensation in the pit of his stomach. It felt like something was growing inside of him, but it didn’t feel unnatural; it felt comforting. If he focused on this feeling, he could almost feel the sensation of a little heartbeat beating in tandem with his. However, this pleasant sensation quickly turned into a sharp and burning feeling that spread from his stomach to his lower torso, as if someone was twisting a knife inside of him. Then, there was nothing but darkness and utter silence, for there was nothing left to show for Faustina as she breathed her last breath.
As Tharos was getting sucked into this darkness he felt himself being shaken, as he snapped out of the trace he was in, as he took in his surroundings he saw Cenric shaking him.
“Are you okay? You just…”
“Yes, I am fine,” Tharos said as he straightened himself up. He noticed the tears streaming down his face and felt the pain coursing through the pit of his stomach like
Looking down at Faustina’s lifeless body, his amber-colored eyes glowing as if they were struck by moonlight, Tharos uttered a single phrase towards her now lifeless form, “Don’t worry, we will get justice for you as well.” Tharos proceeded to bend down, pick up her lifeless body, and carry her in his arms like a princess.
He turned to Cenric, saying, “I’m afraid it isn’t over yet. It seems we have a few more things left to do.” Cenric looked at him slightly puzzled for a moment, then quickly realised the meaning of his words and responded, “Understood.”
The two of them headed back to the homestead, where they found Rayner now back in human form
lying unconscious amidst a pile of torn and ripped apart undead creatures.
“It looks like he got knocked unconscious during the fight,” Tharos remarked.
“Yah, it seems that way. Are you sure he’s going to be fine?” Cenric asked turning towards him.
Tharos gazed at Rayner’s peaceful slumber. Other than a few minor cuts and scrapes that were already healing, Rayner appeared to be fine. He slept deeply, resembling a baby, yet instead of being cradled in a mother’s loving arms, he was enveloped in a blanket of entrails, like the hulking brute of a man he was.
“He’s going to be fine, Cenric.” Cenric gave him a small smile in response.
Placing Faustina’s body inside the homestead, he then gestured towards Rayner. “Help me drag him inside and get some clothing on him.” Cenric gave a firm nod, and together they dragged Rayner inside the homestead, also grabbing Faustina’s body and placing it inside. The two of them then rested inside the homestead for the rest of the night. It had been a long day and night for both of them, and they were going to need their rest for what was about to happen next. Although the village might have been saved, there was one last job to do, and Tharos would be damned if he left it undone.
