Contact the
NeverTown at
Legend had it that the Pale Tower was a living, sentient being, able to change its twisting passageways and staircases to stymie the efforts of even the most determined invader. As if that weren't enough, the Tower was currently inhabited by a horde of reanimated guardians, Lord Death's personal elite force. And the Undead came in all flavors – undead warriors, undead mages, undead archers, undead animals – at one point, our heroes were even set upon by an undead dragon!
Tystus had been in the Pale Tower for two days now – and he was no longer sure if he had trapped Lord Death in his lair, or if Lord Death had trapped Tystus in the tower. The Chronomancer's supplies were low, and he was now completely alone. He carried with him a chipped dagger, carved with holy emblems, and a single arrow – all that he had to remember his valiant comrades by. Both had fallen – how long ago? It seemed like days! – to a party of demonic berserkers, attacking from the rear. If Alendar had lived, he might have wondered whether they were the same group he'd seen in the mountains. But both the archer and Hawkslayer had been cut down in the ambush, giving their lives so that Tystus might be able to escape.
"Don't worry, Tystus - the good guys always win!" Those had been the paladin's last words to him before the ambush. First he had fallen, then the ranger, leaving the mage alone and barely able to escape a similar fate.
But now… now, Tystus's goal was before him. He couldn't say how he knew, but somehow he did – Lord Death waited for him beyond this door.
Which, of course, brings us right back to where we started, which is the problem with these stories involving time travel. You're never quite sure where to begin, and when you've told the story, you're not one hundred percent certain that you're done. This was not the beginning nor the ending... but it was a beginning.
The antechamber in which Tystus girded himself for battle was a surprisingly calm and normal room. No fleshless horrors assaulted the Chronomancer, no traps hurled destructive energies at him, and no magic mouths badgered him with riddles and nonsense poetry. Instead, this room, in contrast to the rest of the tower, was really quite pleasant in an eerie gothic crypt sort of way. Ancient tomes of sorcery and necromancy lined the walls, and a blue flame crackled brightly in the carved stone fireplace. It was a tall room whose ceiling was invisible behind a cloud of swirling mists, while the walls seemed to lean against each other at angles that weren't quite perpendicular. A huge clock took up the center of the room, filled with slowly turning gears, swinging pendulums, and a face that resembled nothing so much as a skeletal cat, whose eyes and tail swung back and forth to mark the passing of the seconds.
A great stone portal was shut against the far wall, and it was at this door that Tystus focused his attention. He sensed powerful energies beyond the door, and there was no doubt in the Chronomancer's mind that Lord Death himself awaited on the other side.
Although he had spent his magical energies greatly over the past few hours in his ascent through the tower, Tystus had an ace left up his sleeve: a magical potion, a large bottle of thick blue liquid which would, when imbibed, completely restore the user's mana force. Tystus quaffed the potion in one quick gulp and let the forces of sorcery and Chronomancy flow into him....
... and was shocked to feel a competitor battling him for control of the timestreams!
"What???" yelled the shocked Tystus, who had never in his life encountered a mage who could even approach his own level of control over the temporal magicks.
And then a low, rasping laughter could be heard from the other side of the stone portal.
Tystus was a good man, possessed of many great virtues, but his courage was only of a relatively average level. He could admit to himself, at this point, that he was truly frightened. Lord Death was a Chronomancer! And one of at least equal power and skill, it seemed! What hope did Tystus alone have against the Lich Lord?
After the ghastly laugh had faded away, the only sound in the small chamber was Tystus' rapid breath. He forced himself to calm down and think. Surely, he thought, there must be a rational explanation for this. Surely Lord Death could not equal his own mastery of temporal magic. Could it be hypnotism, perhaps? Or was he the victim of some sort of magic dampening field?
"Whatever the case," said Tystus out loud, "my power shall prove itself when I face my enemy. And my friends shall be avenged!" Yes, that did the trick. Remembering his comrades, speaking aloud his confidence... yes, he was feeling better already.
The ghostly chuckling echoed through the chamber again, chilling the Chronomancer to the bone.
Fine, then. No more delays, and no use standing here in a magic dampening field and being laughed at. It was time for the Lich Lord to pay for his crimes.
With that thought, Tystus pushed his way through the portal and at last entered the throne room of Lord Death.
From his great gothic throne atop the layered dais, Lord Death gazed down at his uninvited, but not unexpected, guest. To the eyes of the Lich Lord (or, more accurately, the eye sockets, since his eyes had long since rotted away), the greatest Chronomancer in the land seemed a somewhat pathetic creature: tired, ragged, disheveled, and nearly beaten already. Lord Death was supremely confident of how this encounter would end already, and thanks to that knowledge, he had no fear of the intruder.
Tystus also faced his adversary with some bravery. To Tystus's eyes (which had not yet rotted away), the Lich Lord was a sight out of a nightmare. A spectral skeleton garbed in torn robes loomed above him, glowing palely with a green aura of necromantic power. Lord Death's bony hands were decorated with rings of magical power, not unlike the rings Tystus himself wore, and his head was topped with a great iron crown. The Lich Lord stared down at Tystus, and Tystus stared up at the Lich Lord with similar focus, and after a while, the wizard began to wonder if one of them should say something, or if they should just start to fight.
Just as Tystus had decided to risk a fireball, a wheezing, echoing voice emitted from the spectral wizard.
"It is an honor, Master Chronomancer," came the voice, brushing through Tystus's ears like a foul breath of decay.
"I'm afraid I can't say the same, Lord Death," was all Tystus could think to say.
The wind howled as the Lich Lord replied, "You have come... to kill me... I believe?"
"A foolish question, as you well know," said Tystus quickly, not sure what the undead king was up to. Still, the break in tension provided by this unexpected conversation was helping his confidence. "You are long since dead. I seek only to put your soul at rest, and end your evil influence upon my homeland."
"Well spoken," came the grating voice again. "But unlike you, dear Wizard, I have singularity of purpose." The Lich bent down in his throne and seemed to examine Tystus from head to toe. "Everything I have done, Chronomancer, I have done for one reason... and one reason only. To draw... you... here."
Tystus was taken aback by this unexpected statement. "Why?" he asked with some skepticism. "What is it you want of me?"
Suddenly, candles that Tystus hadn't noticed until now sprang to life on the left and right sides of the room, glowing with a pale green flame. A man's scream erupted from somewhere further down in the Pale Tower.
"It is your destiny!" the wheezing voice almost seemed to shout, and then, the Lich Lord stood and pointed at Tystus. "It is your destiny to be here now, with me. This must happen, so that I might at last have vengeance!"
"Vengeance? Very well, if you wish to punish me for stopping your minions and disrupting your plans..."
"You fool!!!" shouted the Lich. "You know not the grand design that you blindly traipse through. You cannot understand..."
Suddenly, before Lord Death could finish his sentence, the door burst open behind Tystus. Turning quickly, ready for the attack, he launched a lightning bolt into the vampires that were approaching him from the rear. The bolt crackled into the leading adversary, but the other undead rushed closer as Tystus prepared his next spell.
The wheezing voice suddenly erupted into a laugh of triumph and malice. "You will die here!"
Realizing his vulnerability, Tystus spun around again to face the Lich Lord. The bones that were Lord Death's fingers spun in the air as he cast, and Tystus jumped to the side, quickly speaking the words to erect a magic shield around himself.
A bolt of dark energy, something foul and evil that Tystus could not recognize, sailed through the air in the very spot he'd been standing, hitting one of the vampires in the chest, and staggering it.
But there were still two vampires coming at him from the door, and an undoubtedly angry Lich Lord still ready to attack him from the dais. For a second it seemed that one of the vampires was distracted by something, probably by its two wounded comrades, but the other was not hesitating in its attack. Meanwhile, Lord Death was chanting the words to yet another spell.
Keeping his magic barrier intact, the Chronomancer cast a simple cantrip he had been saving for some of the Lich's more powerful minions, one that would toss the target a thousand years into the past. Tystus spoke the command word, pointed at the approaching vampire...
... and nothing happened. Only a quick jump back saved the startled Chronomancer's life as a hammer whistled through the air inches from his head. Cursing himself for a fool, Tystus realized that Lord Death must have somehow protected his minions from Chronomancy. He'd have to rely on other magicks.
He was startled by a great shock running through his system - he'd jumped back, directly into the path of another bolt of dark energy hurled by the Lich Lord. His body spasmed as his magical shield tried to absorb the result. In the end, the magicks fought to a draw, with Tystus saved from the destructive energies of the dark bolt, but his shield completely dissipated. The Chronomancer was vulnerable.
And the second vampire knew it.
A sword rushed out at him in a jab. Activating the power of one of his rings, Tystus held his hand out in front of him. The sword struck home on his palm, but melted to ashes before it could wound him. The undead gaped in amazement and frustration.
The vampire with the hammer approached from the right, then, and Tystus saw yet another vampire, the one hit by his lightning bolt, approaching from the other side. There was still a vampire right in front of him, and he heard a rustling, swishing noise behind him that surely meant Lord Death was approaching as well.
Tystus was surrounded.
Tystus smiled. He had anticipated this possibility, and he was prepared.
With a quick snap of his fingers and a shouted command word, the Chronomancer was immolated in flames. Then, there was a great explosion, and all of the undead staggered back desperately to avoid the blaze. Two of the vampires caught fire, and the third, the one approaching from the left, disappeared. Turning, Tystus saw that Lord Death had been caught in his trap as well; the Lich Lord was thrown up and back to the far end of the room, slamming against the wall where it met the ceiling.
Tystus cast another quick spell to lay a puddle of acid right beneath the Lich, and Lord Death began to fall...
... and then, suddenly, the Lich Lord wasn't falling anymore. He hovered in mid-air, and raised a skeletal arm to point at the Chronomancer. Tensed for the curse he knew was coming, Tystus poured all of his energy and concentration into forming a new shield to protect himself. So concentrated was he, that he didn't notice the war cry from the vampire behind him, didn't hear the quick approach.
But he felt it when the sword entered his back and pierced his lung.
The Chronomancer fell to his knees, then, and screamed in pain, as the Lich Lord floated down to stand before him.
"You have struck me down..." gasped Tystus, as blood started to trickle from his mouth, "... but you have made me more powerful... than... you can... can possibly...."
The Chronomancer slumped - he didn't have the strength for speeches! He cleared his mind, tried to ignore the pain, and attuned himself to the spirit plane as clearly as he could. He had to focus, focus... he was running out of time!
Tystus didn't see the vampires rushing in to finish him off, nor did he see the globes of dark energy Lord Death cast to encase and stop them. But when the skeletal mage knelt down, Tystus very clearly heard the haunting, wheezing voice.
"You seek the power of the spirit world, mage? Go, then. Send your minions to stop me, if you cannot."
The Chronomancer sought to maintain his focus. He couldn't let the Lich distract him, not now!
"I will await them. Let us see if any can match my power."
Focus, focus!
"The battle is decided. Never fear - you will see the truth of my plan in the end..."
As the last of Tystus's life ebbed out from his gushing wounds, he cast all of his energies into the preservation of his spirit. The Lich Lord stepped back as a great geyser of flame erupted from the Chronomancer's body, ending his life.
The Wizard's adventures continue in the quartian part of our tale....
Want to leave your mark in the NeverTown? Earn your citizenship by leaving comments and thoughts on what you just read. Just fill out the simple form below, and become a personage of importance in the NeverTown!
Keep it relatively clean, guys - the NeverTown is a family place.
© Copyright James Lemoine, 2003-2007. Copying and stealing information from this website without express written permission from Jimmy is strictly forbidden and an indicator that you are not the kind of nobody who hangs out in the Nevertown. So don't do it. The Beyond Wonderland font is provided by Chris Hansen, one hell of a talented font designer. Some javascript appropriated from javascript-fx.com, and used only after heavy modification.
|
| |
