“The Builder Sect of olde were tasked with construction of the Necropolis. Most constructed one chamber filled with loculi awaiting interments. Once inside it was the last time any builder saw the light of day for the powers of darkness are secretive and unforgiving.” History of of old Empires, Jeremiah Delalande.
“Do you believe in destiny? That even the powers of time can be altered for a single purpose? That the luckiest man who walks on this earth is the one who finds… true love?”
Bram Stoker, Dracula
“They groaned, they stirred, they all uprose,
Samuel Taylor Coleridge, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner
Nor spake, nor moved their eyes;
It had been strange, even in a dream,
To have seen those dead men rise.“
This is another short story for this month’s prompt as I explore the world of the Necromage.
BLOGBATTLE prompt word Provoke
Dragon Stone: Tomb of the Undead
The stairs wound downward in a spiral. In the distance, water dripped, creating the perfect habitat for moss and lichens. It also made parts of the steps treacherous. Old iron sconces sat in the darkness as rusting relics of a bygone era. None had walked this path in centuries if not millennia. It created an atmosphere of ghosts.
The Necromage found it appealing. His limp had almost healed. Dark sorcery proved faster than mere unguents and ointments. They just provoked false hope of recovery.
Darkness suited him. Nothing missed his gaze. Not even the chambers holding bones as he moved from stairs to atria. Each long-dead mage, builder or Elder cowered at his passing. These things pleased him more than ensnaring the Husk in a conjurer’s trap. Once the world fell, he would spend time here. The sum of knowledge locked in these annexes was vast, and all would end up revealing their secrets, sooner or later, their choice.
The Builder spoke true. In front of him was the Chapel of the Undead. Unlike the Chapel of the Dead, this building was a ruin. Moss-coated stonework littered the ground. Ivy crawled over unkempt walls, somehow surging in the dim light from luminescent lichens encrusting the cavern ceiling. The smell of dampness permeated everything.
The Necromage paused. Searching the floor for more rune traps. He could see none, but that did not mean they were absent. Ahead, aged doors rotted on rusted hinges. Inside, he knew, was another sarcophagus. The naming of the chapel suggested what might lie within. No matter whether undead, dead, or living could all be turned or slain. The latter was preferable. It made interrogation swifter under the auspices of necromancy.
He reached out with his art and connected with something he felt he should know. An elf came to mind, and the dwarf broke his conjurer’s bubble. He probed deeper. Then it hit him. The elf’s father lay here, meaning there was a secondary entrance to this level. A trail or portal to a place where he could hunt both. It also meant others could stumble upon this sanctuary. Clearly, the sanguisuge had already, but did it know the significance of this sanctuary?
He delved into the world of the dead. Builder, can a rune lock be activated to prevent access from this chamber?
The reply was swift. Few required further motivation to speak once touched by necromancy. Yes, behind are inscriptions. Once activated, the doors will close. Only those who know the rune lock will be able to pass through. What you suspect lies on the other side is an Elder Portal. One who turned to the darkness when this level was under construction. The one in the crypt is an interloper.
Another reply was rapid: The Matriarch. Kill it and seal the Elder Portal.
This reply, he knew, was fear. From here, things could eventually find the hatchery. Stay your concerns. The Builder has revealed the inner door can be rune-locked. The undead is half ours already. If not, then it will perish. But of more significance is access to the old world. Where three roam that I wish to inter. The elven sorceress, Yish, the dwarf who released me, Nahir and the physician known as Raz. Former Keeper of our witchling Morgan.
There was a pause as the great wyvern considered his words before a response came. The answer was short if you are certain. The three concern me, not Necromage. If your plan fails, then I will burn your essence to ash.
The Necromage smiled. The arrogance of a dragon was refreshing. Better than the cowering of those resting in rotted loculi. It was not the first time they had clashed, nor would it be the last. The Matriarch had one ambition at a time. Currently, it was the eggs that had rested in suspended animation for millennia. The next would be the dragon’s breath required to initiate hatching. That, he thought, would prove fascinating.
He mused over what lay inside the Chapel and how to extract the reason it was here without giving away either his presence or what larger complex the vampire had stumbled on. The memories suggested its presence was accidental. Somewhere sought in earnest to recover from the daughter’s betrayal.
Rune lock the cubicula before entering the Chapel.
The send was strong and assured. That is sound advice, Builder. Your skills will be of great value when the lake is empty.
I am in the afterlife, Mage.
You forget I am no ordinary sorcerer.
Apprehension entered the spirit for the first time. The last dealing with one like him did not end well. This reaction pleased the Necromage. Being one step ahead of things was an art most in power seemed unable to comprehend. Another reason they needed erasing from time to be replaced by organised chaos. An oxymoron, perhaps, but leadership required certain qualities that mere mortals lacked.
He turned back to the entrance. A shaft of light from a surface luminaria fell upon a moss-covered wall. Another victim of the dank atmosphere. Mage fire soon burnt it off. Clever Builder. The light falls on the Keystone rune.
There was no reply, but he could smell fear rippling through the galleries. No matter. The Keystone held the answers. The rune lock was two stones to its left. He touched it with a hand of bone, and ancient mechanisms began turning. All blended with enchantments and witchcraft. The finale was a perception field that mimicked the rock and lichens. Even the trail of light from the luminaria had disappeared as another mechanism closed the shaft to the surface.
Satisfied, he turned back to the Chapel, sending waves of necromancy to touch any who lay rotting nearby. Aside from remnants within ruinous loculi, there were none inside the Chapel save its namesake. Even then, he knew the original corpse was missing and rested somewhere on the other side of the portal. It was not a waste. Once through, he would seek it out. With the right ministrations, he could return it to guard the chamber.
His mind washed over the incumbent grave snatcher. Olde he was and dangerous. That it was slumbering suggested it was daylight elsewhere. He probed deeper. Ancient memories filtered through. A young elf chylde playing in a forest before growing into the High Elf sorceress he was hunting. A skirmish where she hewed the arm off her father. He listened to that conversation. Did it make her a dhampir? The memory there was locked. To reach it would awaken the sanguisuge. Not yet. He wanted more. She was half-darkness already if what he had just learned were true. If she would not turn, then she would die, and then she would suffer an eternity of torment. A trophy moved into his domain to play with in death.
The vampire stirred, suggesting twilight was entering the world it had fled from. It was time to enter the Chapel.
The Necromage moved forward, taking great care. The floor was coated in a green slime that covered the runes.
Necromage, the rune traps are dysfunctional. Most have eroded beyond further use. They are nothing but historical artefacts here.
The Builder had found his speech again. Probably deciding hiding would do little good. If you lie, the lake remains, and you will dream of peaceful sleep once the nightmares begin.
Mild amusement because he had suspected as much. Without full reveals, runes atrophied until rendered useless. It escalated the perception of the Rune Lords that first crafted such long-lived stones. One day, he would investigate them and take their secrets from the grave, perhaps while The Matriarch was nursing hatchlings. A future path.
The steps up were equally treacherous. The risers were worn and dipped in the centres. From those in the loculi, could he see images of past times and how this place once looked as first intended. As with The Vault, progress had closed that down and lost the meaning of freedom. Knowledge was cosseted by the few when it was meant for all. These were the legacies he intended to change. Let everyone see what lay hidden. Fools would die in the process; others become lost in the labyrinth of caverns and turn mad. None would have unlimited access to both Necropolis and Vault. Even fewer could harvest the dead Library here. The responsibility of power beckoned any mind that knew how to rule properly.
Thinning out the weak and false followers was destiny. Even nature did such, and few called her a tyrant.
He stood on the slab just beyond the rotted doors, looking at another coffin mounted on a catafalque. Within lay the resting sanguisuge. It was waking. He knew this from the strands of his art that now layered around the vampire’s mind. Soon, it would know that death was so much more than undead lechery over blood.
Wake now, father of YnshaelFaeroris.
Inside the coffin, the vampire stirred. Brutally aware there was a presence in his mind. One who knew of his daughter. An old legend sprang into his thoughts. Something Yish had once said about The Prophecy of the Crow. It seemed a lifetime ago now when she was but a child with an insatiable interest in old parchment. Her room was always in disarray with scrolls and charts and not far from a museum of antiquities. It was amongst some faded writings of a long-dead scribe that she had asked what the Crow was. Did this thing threaten them?
His eyes flew open. A snarl formed as he pushed back the stone lid of the coffin. Rising, he drew out a silver claymore and turned to face the intruder. The sight that greeted him stole his confidence. A shimmering death shroud whose weave fluxed, revealing souls trapped within. A hand of bone clutched a serpentine staff, and the eyes that stared back were like vortices of ice. In an instant, he knew this creature was the Crow his daughter once studied as a child.
“What is it you want, Necromage?”
“Everything Vampire.”
The sanguisuge floated forward, claymore at the ready. “I think not.”
The Necromage watched. He knew speed was a vampire’s greatest strength, at least to such as he. Others would succumb to the glam, and many would fall to sudden surges of power. It amused him that it was using powers of suggestion now. A distraction blended with hope the claymore would strike him down.
He struck the serpent staff onto the floor, and the eyes of the snake flew open. As the vampire launched an attack, the asp’s maw opened, sending a concussion wave forward. The sanguisuge was flung back with sufficient force to crack the casket, knocking it from the catafalque to shatter on the floor.
The vampire was dazed. It was the same downfall that cost him an arm when he clashed with Yish in the cave. He rose again, but this time stood his ground. It confirmed what he had thought, and this was the Crow, and if he wanted to live, then flight was now the best option.
“Impressive Necromage.” He stalled for time.
“Yield Vampire or die.”
“I shall do neither, Crow.” He sheathed the claymore and drew on the fog of the wamphyre, using it to flee toward the portal.
Leave him Necromage. His trail will take you to the elf.
Agreed, dragon.
He turned his thoughts back to the Builder. Give me the Elder Mage who crafted this Dragon Gate.
He lies elsewhere, Necromage. Use your dragon to lock the portal to your Stone.
The mage searched the corpses within the chamber and loculi and cursed. None here were Elders. The suggestion was impressive, though and showed a greater understanding of Elder Magi than first considered. This Builder would prove useful.
Seal the portal now, fool and then release those from the mercuric lake. I want that hatchery secured.
The Necromage allowed that to pass. Rage, he knew, was for those wishing an early death. Besides this time, he knew The Matriarch was right. Opening too many doors at once left strategy in ruin. Some needed closing.
These would be the Dragon Gate, the lake, and the dragon eggs. After that, the elf and dwarf. If the vampire got in his way, then he, too, would fall.
Nice nod to Dracula and Rime of the Ancient Mariner at the start. The latter of which I came to learn through Iron Maiden! Saw them live a few years back. Here in Austria. Bloody good show!
I like the idea of this creature wanting to learn the sum of knowledge after the world has fallen. A certain short-sightedness there! It reminds me, in a way, of that Twilight Zone episode with the fellow who has time enough at last to read all the books, now that the apocalypse has come. Only for his glasses to shatter!
I loved the descriptions of this cold, damp place. I think the Necromage and I share a love for these sorts of places. I’ve often told Regina that I want to live in a haunted house, someday. She’s not too keen on the idea, for some bizarre reason…
Does this mean that Yish is part vampire? I wasn’t expecting that! Cutting off her father’s arm years ago is pretty damn cool. Even after reading these stories for some years now, you still throw us curveballs to keep us on our toes!
Oh, and the quote about dreaming of peaceful sleep was great!
Thanks, Joshua. That’s exactly where I first came across Coleridge. Very long time ago now and the first album I ever bought was Number of the Beast. Pretty local band to where I grew up. Mind you his brother also had a band called Catherine Wheel. Check out Judy Staring at the Sun. That said I recently unearthed a fabulous singer via Cradle of Filth’s Nymphetamine. My new go to sing is Love Decay by Liv Kristine. I think you’d like the lyrics in that and it has inspired a stuck point in Prison of Ice.
As you know decayed civilisations fascinate me. The builders here are a nod to old stone masons who seem to have been way better than many gave credit to.
Re places like this… its where my mind travels when writing. Some places it goes have yet to be written about.
Nothing wrong with a haunted house. All depends on location and Wi-Fi 😂.
As for Yish. It started as an experiment way back. She’s damphire. I may keep that in. Mind you there are a few Hybrids now.
Hope you had a good New Year
As a still something of a newcomer to the Dragon Stone world, this was a surprise and a clarification.
Yish. The Crow (Vampire) and the Necromage, the latter squaring it off in a very vividly described conflict.
And Yish’s full name ‘YnshaelFaeroris’ held another twist for me, coming up in the line “Wake now, father of YnshaelFaeroris”.
These complex relationships and interactions are fascinating.
Thanks, Roger. Yish is the pet name given to her by the Amanuensis. Her full name is only used by certain adversaries and the High Elf Caucus. There is the initial conflict with Yish and her father on her somewhere as I’ve just used it as the base of why he moved into the tomb here.
A lot of the language used is inspired by my music tastes, FOTN, Cradle of Filth, 69 Eyes and so on. However, one I think you’ll like is by Liv Kristine called Love Decay. I found her from COF, as she was the sublime female vocalist on Nymphetamine.
Really pleased you are liking this world build too so thanks again.
Ah, that clarifies another part of Yish’s life.
Yes this does hold my attention. In my own writing I cannot resist to inject folly and various permutations of errors.
These folk in your world with their more focused way and deeper perceptions interest me very much.
Ok, a question you may have an answer to that matches mine. Do you think pantsing offers better diversity of challenge solutions over more conventional planning (which features in more classical courses I’ve done). My take is not planning creates more “realism” in the sense you don’t create an uber monster and then have to insert some special skill to defeat it.
I hope that makes sense as I was this the question earlier on an HP film Chamber of Secrets. My son asked how come at the end, Fawkes appears with a hat that conveniently has a sword that can kill a Basilisk, blind it then heal Harry and carry them all out at the end.
My answer was planning. No logical outcome. One part of that lot I can say ok to. All merged together create a feeling of impossibility solved by dogmatic planning. What are the odds kind of thing?
To me developing the character outweighs planning. Know them, feel them, and if they are unable to actually do something do not give them a cop-out.
Also in an antagonist, the same rules work. In my case, the skills to take out the Necromage are missing. This means they have to problem-solve and try and trap him in a bubble. I could write it and give any protagonist the easy option, but for my own reading that looks wrong. And I’m pretty sure at night I would get a visit from the antagonist saying WTF.
I hope that makes some kind of sense on this late eve of all saints day
Ah my last effort of the day at 22:50.
Makes perfect sense Gary!!
I ardently believe that pansting creates a better atmosphere of reality than planning.
Having read much history of the military and military / political types there is no doubt in my mind that the one who wins be it political, military or a combination of both is the one who makes less mistakes, or the one who can take better advantage of the other’s mistakes, planning does help but things will always go wrong or askew, particularly when the Human Element gets involved in the form of rivalries, dislikes, misunderstandings etc..
In the last of my three book series I had a basic plot line that the main confrontation, battle would be of a Stalingrad sort, only a bit lighter. To this I began to add disfunction and suspicion in the one alliance, while the other sort of stumbled into a more functional grouping, meanwhile the three major characters lurched around trying to keep their heads above water. Because they had a many layered loyalty to each other and the grouping itself they succeeded.
Throughout all problems common in history were thrown into the mix as I felt inclined to produce; something like a Games Master in a RPG table top game. The characters naturally got fed up with this and threw back their own twists; the supreme one being Arketre the soldier of the trio telling me she was pregnant.
‘But,’ I spluttered ‘You are de facto married to Karlyn, was does she think about that?’
‘Oh, she’s the father, as it were,’ came the wickedly cheerful reply ‘Now you have to write a credible Fantasy-based reason as to the whys, wheres and whens, and tie it all up,’
‘The book was all supposed to end with the victory at Yermetz!’ I wailed.
‘Pfft! Where’s the fun in everything finishing with one battle? And don’t forget to tie up all the other ramifications and aftermaths from all the loose ends floating around too,’
Another 40,000 words later…..
Pantsing. You gotta love it.
Ah well I must get to bed, I musn’t see Santa leaving pressies.
I think planning for us is more concept of idea. With me, characters appear while drifting through the story. I also have noted on my phone where I stick names. I have several from Starbucks oddly enough and use them as stem names. Also re pantsing if you know your subject then it filters in. I think too many now start a book and use Google to infill. Accuracy suffers and imagination gets impaired. Too many “must do it this way” posts when in reality you need a depth of knowledge on what you write and the mind flares to awaken it. Your DM reference is exactly where it goes wrong. You can only direct a play once it’s written. Try doing that while creating the play and it becomes artificial. It’s the imagination where discussions occur and where they tell you what they would do. IMO that allows it to flow. Ideas bleed in all directions rather than sticking something in to solve a problem that’s out of place.
Wet finishing with one battle.. That’s a huge debate haha. LOTR had several battles leading to the end. Most wars have the same. Nobody really knows what twist will lead to eventual victory. Trying to follow exact history will end up with characters saying exactly what you describe. What they actually mean is are you writing fiction or a history book?
Loose Ends are also fascinating. Flynne was not supposed to be a loose end. Yet she ended up being exactly that and created a new direction. Again here I feel loose ends in bad writing are lazt editing. In good writing they are placed deliberately to connect dots. I.e if you write one book kill them, if it’s going to be a series then craft them wisely.
Ode to debates upon the imagination
I agree all the way Gary. You can use History as a teaching method…Lesson 1 ‘It’s Never Over’, but as for planning beyond that, just use an Outline and let things flow…
In fact it’s starting already on this project, I had one character set up as a kind of pantomime villain, but of late there’s been this ‘Hmmmm, maybe if he was to…….’
Let’s hear it for the winning combination of Characters’ contributions, Imaginations and Random thoughts!
We think alike Roger. Sadly I think these days history is ignored for the most part. I can see where Shaun of the Dead got inspired from every time I go to the supermarket. 😂
Real inspiration I feel can be seen everywhere, lyrics, poems, myths and so on. Even King Gunslinger orginated from Brownings Child Rowland to the Tower Came.
It’s why he says reading gives one the tools to write. By reading it can be anything from politics to comedy.
Yep Gary. The only history folk like to read are the biased ones which suit their preconceptions which is nothing new, but after two World Wars you think we might have learnt, that notion was disproven almost at once.
As you say inspiration can come from anywhere; and time. Music is a big help for me. Despite the titles and the intended meanings of the lyrics Enya’s ‘Pax Dedorum’ & ‘Tempus Vernum’ were most useful to me for getting in the mood ominous themes.(Having next to no knowledge of Latin helped😀).
And that’s just two in recent times. Over the time we’ve been in this planet wars have recycled over and over. Yet nobody seems to actually recognise that aspect. How many civilisations rose and fell. Yet here we are yet again led by morons who qualify from some uni club with pointless degrees.
And no doubt this coming year new morins will replace the old ones and think they will do better. Same here re Latin. Although Tinca Tinca is a tench. 😂
Wars? Are they endemic? It’s a question which pops up over and over again. In the International Relations The Realism school of thought suggests for one reason or another this is likely. Which is a grim outloook.
It’s one I feel might be so, unless we evolve beyond our current still primitive aggressive mindset. I would like to hope this will be so. Otherwise we end up as a very thin smear in the fossil record.
Endemic to our species IMO. Its like cults created from expansion merged with religion and monarchies or politics in power grabs. If aliens were watching then I think they would have a very dim view on allowing us out of our solar system. For example the most popular video games involve war, GTA, shooting or zombies.
Says it all really. The’d only need to look at 10 mins of news to see greed and avarice.
I think you sum it up well. Dinosaurs 65 million years, us a blip on the timeline. Little credit given to our lucky evolution route down to a cataclysm that knocked them off the leaderboard.
From what I read this morning we can’t even make concrete now as good as the Romans
And then we have The Fermi Paradox and The Drake ‘Equation’.
Which lead some to reckon that all civilisations at some stage ‘blow themselves up’ (As I write this the seeds of a darkly quirky potential for a Blog Battle entry are stirring. Watch out, they will be looking for the opportunity!)
The likelihood that we cannot make concrete as good as the Romans, does not surprise me in the least. Those were the guys whose armies marched miles in a day and then built a entrenched camp for the night.
Apparently modern thinking thought some white lime powder in their concrete was sloppy mixing. It turned out they used it because over time it bled into cracks and solidified thus sealing flaws. It suggested to me straight away modern thinking is dim or stereotypical and possibly both.
Here they moan about basic training never mind hiking a mile in full gear.
The next word I leave you with a clue. Radiohead.
Modern thinking is also affected by that dread word ‘Cheapest’.
Radiohead….
Now there’s a thought (or six)….Ponder-ponder-ponder.
Too right, but cheap and charge as much as possible.
It’s one of the early songs if that helps 😂
Errr………………
Creep?
There you go, Christmas charades via WP. which could be the start of an annual seasonal festivity 😂
Wow! It was the first word which came into my head when you mentioned the band.
Ah well, time to think. So many possibilities.
Best way. Don’t think and just go with instinct. Something Elijah should have done wrt Raenisa. Well, at the point you are at.
Creep should provoke an interesting range of stories from bugs to downright macabre
PS: And they were comparatively ‘little guys’ too!
Hi, not sure if this is posting as comment or reply., struggling to work out how to just comment..(it’s 12.40am and I need to play Father Christmas and get to bed)
Another interesting installment Gary, interesting how your stories tie together. Interesting imagery with the crow, your story is very complicated with alot happening, and developing.
Thanks, Marian. As you may recall this story has been long in the making with hundreds of pages written here providing back story and cross-links. Now I’m actually into book two of DS things might appear here that maybe tie up things. A few have commented on that already.
So this is the Crow you’ve been alluding to! Very vivid detail in this story, I could feel the dampness in the air from the beginning. The reference to Undead immediately brought to mind vampires and zombies, and then who should the necromage find but Yish’s ‘dear old dad.’ Rather intriguing how the necromage, steeped in death, considers that he would find the hatching of dragons, a beginning of life, fascinating. It’s always fun to see some characters from previous installments return in their own small way!
Thanks Abe. The Prophecy of the Crow has been long in coming. This one is the third dabble into the antagonist that’s live in my head for about 20 years. In effect he’s ghosted the story arc but never really had a written part until recently. Undead in his world is anything the was once alive. The art of the Necromancer as it were. The finding of the father of Yish was due to a previous BB story that told of her encountering him. It’s now part of a follow up to Dragon Stone.
Kind of why I’m exploring this character as he features in it.
Also re the Necromage. My aim is to make him not just the anti character. Each piece reveals further back story arcs in the same way I’d do a protagonist. I’m finding it quite fascinating myself as its all stream of consciousness. One day I might even publish DS haha
A decade! Time is short, time is long… all a bit timey wimey.
I used to write a decade ago but lost my motivation six or seven years back really. Never got it back, whatever motivated it just disappeared. Hey Ho!
Still at least you have all that material and you are putting it together now . It’s the now how long the journey takes.
I lost my mojo for two years. Regained some of it recovering from a hernia op. Gave me time to ponder what’s really important so I started DS and Letters. They got knocked out inside two months. Strange after the concept was with me for nearly 30 years!
Sorry you had to have surgery but at least you got your mojo back! All good in the end.
I always wanted to write a sequel, I always I always intended to ! Maybe if I ever have the time or motivation I’ll give them a happy ending 🤣
That’s very dark!!
Happy Christmas Gary xx
Thank you Hayley. It’s the third part on me exploring the an agonist I use in Dragon Stone which is now finished so this is the backdrop to the next one which is about six chapters in now.
Have a good Christmas and New Year too
You must have quite the back catalogue by now .
It must give you a lot of satisfaction. Writing is a wonderful escape 😊
Yes another year … what joy lol
Kind of. I have used a lot of the backstory to create a novelette called Letters of the Amanuensis. All ties in with DS and Prison of Ice where a certain wizard finally finds the Oracle. Only taken almost a decade to go back to that part!