Book of The Dead

”I don’t like the look of this, Trevan.”

”Neither do I, my lord.”

The two men stood out on the dunes, watching as an enormous pillar of dark cloud climbed into the sky in the distance. To their left and right, the scene was repeated, with matching pillars twisting and billowing up into the air. Once they reached a certain height, the darkness began to spread outwards, forming a cloud layer of miasma that grew with every passing second.

Leras Sathin didn’t like what he was seeing in the least. Just how powerful could one individual possibly be? He’d known the Necromancer was a grave threat, but he was still only a single person. Regardless of how much power the Unseen had granted him, would he be able to fight against the armies of the houses? He hadn’t thought it likely. Now, looking at the creeping shadow spreading across the dunes, he was forced to change his mind. His house couldn’t deal with this by themselves. Perhaps even the united houses wouldn’t be enough, but could they hold until the Golden Legion arrived to reinforce them? How much would be lost to the dead by then?

”Do we have a visual?” he asked tersely. ”Surely someone has seen something by now?”

”The miasma is spreading throughout the dunes, my lord. I believe the undead are massing within it. If you look over there, you can see for yourself.”

”What?”

Following the direction pointed out by the Lord Commander of his house, Leras could see wisps of darkness leaking out from the deepest recesses of the dunes. That was only three kilometres away from where they stood. Was there an undead horde gathering that close to him and he was just supposed to sit here and let it happen? That didn’t sit right with him.

”Prepare the outriders,” he instructed. ”I’ll lead a charge and see if we can catch a glimpse of what is coming.”

Trevan shook his head, exasperated.”My lord, you shouldn’t risk yourself like this. Let one of the captains take command in your place.”

Leras grinned.

”I won’t send men into battle if I’m not prepared to go myself.” He softened his tone. ”I only want to take a look. We will withdraw at the first sign of danger. I highly doubt a skeleton can keep up with a hopper on the sand.”

Trevan could only grimace.

”Be careful,” he warned. ”You need to be back in under half an hour, no more than that. The situation here is fluid right now and we need the Lord’s authority. Also...”

The Lord Commander hesitated.

”... make sure that you aren’t taken, my lord. We don’t know what the Necromancer would be able to extract from your soul after death.”

A chill gripped the Lord at the thought. Trevan was right to bring it up. If he died in battle here, that would be far from the end of it. Dying in shame, failing his family and house was one thing. Being forced to spill their secrets and battle against his own people from beyond the grave was something else entirely. A horrifying prospect.

”I’ll keep it in mind,” he said shortly.

It didn’t take long to get mounted along with ten of his best outriders, and they were soon on their way. Ill-tempered and savage, the lizards were dangerous creatures even after they had been tamed. Each of these hoppers had been bred in captivity and trained from a young age to accept riders and be comfortable around people, but even then they were known to try to eat their riders if given a chance. For all the trouble, they were incredible for quickly crossing the desert.

Sand blurred past Leras as his hopper, an ornery creature he called Dusty, sped across the sands, its wide, webbed feet finding plenty of purchase on the shifting surface. Overhead, the darkness continued to spread. In an hour or so, at their current rate of growth, the clouds from the north and south would merge with the central one ahead, creating an artificial shadow that covered the majority of the borderlands.

An unnatural cold struck the Lord as he rode beneath the darkness, striking into his bones. Dusty felt it too, the lizard hissing furiously and gnashing at the bridle, uncomfortable with the sudden shift in conditions. With skill born from decades of riding, he calmed the hopper and directed it forward, confident his men would do the same behind him. Under the darkness and towards the dunes they rode, the rolling waves of sand starting to climb around them as they entered the desert proper.

”Remember to keep moving!” he called back to the outriders. ”Our advantage is speed; if you stop, you’re dead! Anyone who falls is to be left behind, that includes myself! Understood?”

”Yes, my lord!” they replied.

Having said all he needed to, Leras raised the cloth that hung around his neck to cover his mouth and nose, firmed his grip on the reins and directed Dusty toward the gathering miasma. They didn’t ride directly into it, not knowing how the hoppers would react, or even if it would be safe for the riders, so they stuck to the sides and peaks of the dunes. It made them more visible from a distance, but he judged it would be safer than plunging directly into the dark magick that had been summoned against them.

Stolen story; please report.

Trevan had been entirely correct. The deeper they travelled, the thicker the clouds of darkness became, drifting over the sands like a black mist and filling up the crevasses and low points of the rolling sands. Yet, they didn’t see the dead. Grimly, Leras pushed forward, forced to guide his men higher and higher on the dunes as the darkness thickened until they were travelling almost single file along the very crests.

Just how much magick was this Necromancer prepared to spend on mist alone? Overhead, the vast cloud continued to grow, flickering purple lights like crackling lightning rippling throughout.

”My lord!”

Leras was so preoccupied, he didn’t notice the spectre until it was almost upon him. He threw his head to the side as an arrow whizzed closely by, charged by a skill from one of the outriders. The ghost had almost reached him, its features twisted with hate and rage, its ethereal hands extended as if to wrap around his neck. As the arrow struck it, there was a flash of light and a ghastly wail that echoed across the sands as the ghost was destroyed, fraying into pieces like a decaying cloth.

Dusty snapped at the bit, one claw rising to swipe at the air, showing the agitation of the lizard. Leras wasn’t much better, his heart suddenly pounding in his chest. They hadn’t seen anything yet, but he couldn’t stay any longer. This was too dangerous. With one hand, he signalled for the outriders to turn and retreat, pulling at the reins to bring Dusty about. If a single undead had found them, then the Necromancer knew where they were. It was time to leave.

Throwing a final glance over his shoulder, Leras froze for a moment, gripped by fear.

Rising from the miasma, the creature could have been a ghost or a skeleton, either way it was the stuff of nightmares. Purple light flared in its hollow sockets, its body formed of glowing green bones draped in a black cloak. In one hand it held a staff topped in a smoking black skull, while the other pointed directly toward Leras himself.

He kicked Dusty into motion and the hopper didn’t need to be told twice, its legs blurring as it raced across the sand. Leras crouched low, minimising his profile on the hopper’s back as he turned his head to see what transpired in his wake. Arrows of bone slashed down, missing Dusty’s tail by mere feet. From the hand of the undead he’d seen, a boiling cloud of dark power emerged, racing over the ground towards him in the shape of a hand. He withdrew his spear, awkwardly thrusting behind him and emitting a blast of light from the shining tip. Although it wasn’t his best work, it was enough to disrupt the spell, which tattered and broke apart. Seconds later, they were clear and running, fleeing across the dunes, the wind whipping past their faces.

When they rejoined the rest of the garrison at the forward observation post, Leras was quick to dismount and turn Dusty over to his handlers. Returning to Trevan on the walls, the Lord Commander looked at him wryly.

”You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said.

”Not funny,” Leras replied, still feeling off-balance from his encounter.

”I take it you saw something out there, then.”

”Did I ever,” the Lord shivered. ”I’m not even sure if I can describe it. Suffice to say, the undead are there, in the miasma. Archers, magick users and The Five know what else.”

”Any idea how many?”

”Not in the slightest.”

Trevan grunted, his weathered face never turning away from the dreadful scene before them, eyes flicking across the desert, looking for the slightest sign of change.

”We need to prepare for a retreat,” he said finally. ”Soon. Our strategy hinges on denying resources to the Necromancer, and that means avoiding getting entangled in fights we aren’t certain we are going to win. Right now, I’m not feeling all that certain. How about you, my lord?”

”Any hint of certainty feels like a distant lover,” he replied, frowning. ”All I can do is pine for it’s presence.”

”I’ll pass the orders, my lord. Hopefully the other border Lords are of the same mind as you.”

Trevan stepped away from the wall for the first time in hours, issuing orders to his captains and runners, preparing every Soldier and militia member along the line for an orderly retreat. Meanwhile, Leras remained on the wall, watching the great cloud above build and build. It wouldn’t be long before it was directly overhead the garrison. How far would it spread? To the villages? To the city? Did the Necromancer have enough power to plunge the entire Southern Province into darkness?

A flicker of light caught the Lord’s eye and he leaned forward, wondering what it was he’d seen. There was something around the rising column of darkness, right in the heart of it. There it was again! His eyes widened as he realised that something was changing.

The miasma continued to rise, but in the centre of the column the darkness had begun to spiral and twist, curving around a sphere that was taking shape. Leras was no Mage, but even he could feel the ominous energy emanating from the distant magick. Slowly, those spheres took on a more and more solid shape, until they became complete. Now three of these orbs, dozens of kilometres apart, beamed down on the land like moons of death. Leras felt a chill strike his heart as the light of the sands was now fully transformed from the familiar light and heat he had experienced his entire life to something else entirely.

In a matter of hours, the Necromancer had transformed the desert into a land of death. And then the undead began to advance.

Columns of dark energy still rose into the sky, but with his highly trained eyes Leras could tell they were moving. The Necromancer was coming. He waited in grim silence while the garrison moved around him. Supplies were being packed, men organised, transportation arranged. When Trevan finally came for him, everything else had been taken care of. It was time for the Lord to leave.

From amongst the dunes, a wave of miasma rolled outwards, sweeping over the land. Amidst it, thousands upon thousands of glowing eyes could be seen, their helmeted skulls visible above the mist. All across the borderlands, rigid ranks of skeletons marched, more than Leras could have possibly imagined in his deepest nightmares.

”What am I looking at, Trevan?” he asked hoarsely.

”An enemy we must defeat.”

”How?”

”If I knew the answer to that, you’d be paying me more. It’s time to leave, my lord.”

Heart sunken into his belly, Leras joined his men as they fled from the border, a tide of death washing over the land behind them.