McIan
Journeyman
The evening drew to a close as the darkening clouds swallowed the last rays of the dying sun. The twin moons had yet to bestow their brilliance upon the starry realm that was Malas when Scar, fully armored and armed, stood at the bottom of the stairs of what he knew as the castle of blood, the ancient citadel erected by his father decades ago. He had known what it was and who dwelt therein but avoided the place for he neither wanted to see his father again, nor incite whatever nameless terrors that stalked its dark and forbidding halls, seeking blood... Human, Elf, Orc, or Lycan, perhaps.
Sighing and saying a prayer to the gods of Light, he strode up the stairs. The door opened for him but no one stood on the other side. A warrior standing in the hall motioned for him to exit the foyer through crimson curtains and step upon the glyph nearest him. "He awaits ye there," he hissed. "Stay thy hand, warrior, and live," he warned.
Scar heeded the man's guidance. Another set of crimson curtains hung over an archway ahead, while two smaller chambers, lit dimly by lanterns, opened to his right and left. He drew in their smells: one of burning coals, fibers and ore; the other of victuals in preparation. Dismissing them both, he pushed aside the curtains and entered a vaulted chamber, surveying the contents of the room. Death. Death and decay. Bones, long lain. All manner of fetid stench and rot assailed his senses. A stone chair positioned in the center of the room ahead, facing two thrones, one of bone and one of blue-green crystal. Upon the former sat a hooded figure, dark, silent, and unmoving. He walked slowly to the chair to stand behind it.
"Welcome my son. Be seated and at ease," the robed one told him in kindly tones, almost with fatherly love. He extended his hand palm upwards to the spot.
Scar sat down, keeping his hand upon the hilt of his sword. "Where is she?" he asked. He had already inhaled the signature aroma of his loved one despite the odors that sought to mask it. She was here, somewhere.
"She is close by. She is safe. I do not keep her against her will. She agreed to stay for want of another means I would have used to bring thee here; one of a more forceful nature for thee."
Scar tightened his grip on the hilt of his kryss. "If you harm her in any way, one, or both of us, you and I, will die today," he warned.
"Ye speak as a fool. I am not so vile as to deprive this wretched land of such beauty... and, may I add... ferocity of spirit and love."
"Then on with it! How do I return to you what I have within me? I give it to you willingly but keep your part of the bargain."
"Ye must say the words. Ye know them. They are that by which I have drawn my power. Place one hand on thy own heart and one upon mine. The transference will be instant. No harm shall come to thee. Once done, I shall honor our pact," the Elder explained, standing up followed by Scar who moved toward him.
"I do not remember the words. What are they?"
The Elder seemed surprised by the admission. "Eh Loh Klah Teh" of course, the mantra of the Necromari which becomes that of which is my desire and intention. They require no mana and no fidelity to any god. They are neither good nor evil. They simply are."
Scar remembered them. He recalled his own use of them; he remembered his father teaching them to him when he was a Necromari himself, steeped in the perverted, chaotic, black arts of necromancy and sorcery. He recalled how they could bring into existence beings of great power and evil from beyond human ken to do their bidding. His father was wrong. They were vile words, unfit for the lips of any honorable person. "I cannot bear to utter them," he said, shaking his head.
"Ye must. Thy life with thine own love is at stake. Which love ye more, her, or what passes for thy pathetic excuse for honor?" he taunted, deliberately.
"She knows I love her beyond life! She also knows that the evil you can bring about outweighs even our love. Would she love me knowing I succumbed to thy extortion? No honor is pathetic, not even mine."
"She has heard these words. I made sure she heard all that transpires between us. Do ye want to know what she is feeling now?"
He lowered his head. His heart pounded. This was a chance, his only chance, to be reunited with her. Clenching his fists momentarily, he extended his hand placing it on his father's heart and the other upon his own. "Eh Loh Klah Teh," he cried, his head angled toward the heavens. "I give you back what is yours," he added.
His head swam and he fell to his knees, weak and wearied suddenly. The Elder took one deep breath and laughed loudly. He sat back down on his throne and motioned to a guard standing by, watching them. "Take him to the cell. Lock him in. Harm him not. I keep my word. When she comes, give her the key. Let them depart in peace; do not hinder them in any way if they go in peace."
The guard nodded, easily picking up Scar from the floor and placing him over his shoulder, taking him to a prison cell where a forlorn occupant stood in the doorway clasping the bars. "Stand back, fool!" the guard ordered. The man, dressed in noble but filthy finery, obeyed and the guard fulfilled his duty.
"Be sure he is fed well. I have work to do. I shall be gone for a long time. Let the others know this. When I return we shall make plans. The Necromari shall rise again," the Elder stated. He vanished as a mist, leaving no wake behind him.
Sighing and saying a prayer to the gods of Light, he strode up the stairs. The door opened for him but no one stood on the other side. A warrior standing in the hall motioned for him to exit the foyer through crimson curtains and step upon the glyph nearest him. "He awaits ye there," he hissed. "Stay thy hand, warrior, and live," he warned.
Scar heeded the man's guidance. Another set of crimson curtains hung over an archway ahead, while two smaller chambers, lit dimly by lanterns, opened to his right and left. He drew in their smells: one of burning coals, fibers and ore; the other of victuals in preparation. Dismissing them both, he pushed aside the curtains and entered a vaulted chamber, surveying the contents of the room. Death. Death and decay. Bones, long lain. All manner of fetid stench and rot assailed his senses. A stone chair positioned in the center of the room ahead, facing two thrones, one of bone and one of blue-green crystal. Upon the former sat a hooded figure, dark, silent, and unmoving. He walked slowly to the chair to stand behind it.
"Welcome my son. Be seated and at ease," the robed one told him in kindly tones, almost with fatherly love. He extended his hand palm upwards to the spot.
Scar sat down, keeping his hand upon the hilt of his sword. "Where is she?" he asked. He had already inhaled the signature aroma of his loved one despite the odors that sought to mask it. She was here, somewhere.
"She is close by. She is safe. I do not keep her against her will. She agreed to stay for want of another means I would have used to bring thee here; one of a more forceful nature for thee."
Scar tightened his grip on the hilt of his kryss. "If you harm her in any way, one, or both of us, you and I, will die today," he warned.
"Ye speak as a fool. I am not so vile as to deprive this wretched land of such beauty... and, may I add... ferocity of spirit and love."
"Then on with it! How do I return to you what I have within me? I give it to you willingly but keep your part of the bargain."
"Ye must say the words. Ye know them. They are that by which I have drawn my power. Place one hand on thy own heart and one upon mine. The transference will be instant. No harm shall come to thee. Once done, I shall honor our pact," the Elder explained, standing up followed by Scar who moved toward him.
"I do not remember the words. What are they?"
The Elder seemed surprised by the admission. "Eh Loh Klah Teh" of course, the mantra of the Necromari which becomes that of which is my desire and intention. They require no mana and no fidelity to any god. They are neither good nor evil. They simply are."
Scar remembered them. He recalled his own use of them; he remembered his father teaching them to him when he was a Necromari himself, steeped in the perverted, chaotic, black arts of necromancy and sorcery. He recalled how they could bring into existence beings of great power and evil from beyond human ken to do their bidding. His father was wrong. They were vile words, unfit for the lips of any honorable person. "I cannot bear to utter them," he said, shaking his head.
"Ye must. Thy life with thine own love is at stake. Which love ye more, her, or what passes for thy pathetic excuse for honor?" he taunted, deliberately.
"She knows I love her beyond life! She also knows that the evil you can bring about outweighs even our love. Would she love me knowing I succumbed to thy extortion? No honor is pathetic, not even mine."
"She has heard these words. I made sure she heard all that transpires between us. Do ye want to know what she is feeling now?"
He lowered his head. His heart pounded. This was a chance, his only chance, to be reunited with her. Clenching his fists momentarily, he extended his hand placing it on his father's heart and the other upon his own. "Eh Loh Klah Teh," he cried, his head angled toward the heavens. "I give you back what is yours," he added.
His head swam and he fell to his knees, weak and wearied suddenly. The Elder took one deep breath and laughed loudly. He sat back down on his throne and motioned to a guard standing by, watching them. "Take him to the cell. Lock him in. Harm him not. I keep my word. When she comes, give her the key. Let them depart in peace; do not hinder them in any way if they go in peace."
The guard nodded, easily picking up Scar from the floor and placing him over his shoulder, taking him to a prison cell where a forlorn occupant stood in the doorway clasping the bars. "Stand back, fool!" the guard ordered. The man, dressed in noble but filthy finery, obeyed and the guard fulfilled his duty.
"Be sure he is fed well. I have work to do. I shall be gone for a long time. Let the others know this. When I return we shall make plans. The Necromari shall rise again," the Elder stated. He vanished as a mist, leaving no wake behind him.
