by
Joel Levy
Horror from beyond the grave spread slowly throughout the Province of Brocalinde.
Tales were told of lonely farmsteads and rural villages attacked by tribes of savage cannibals. The raiders were lead by three gaunt figures with bat wings, white faces and claws instead of fingers. Rumors spread of virgins kidnapped from castles and the homes of wealthy merchants. A creature at least nine feet tall and skeletally thin invaded nurseries. This bat faced undead easily killed guards and paladins alike and bit children gently upon the throat. He then walked away slowly, disdaining flight. Behind he left children who crawled about the floor trying to lick up drops of blood and brains. These children slept beneath their beds during the daylight. Sometimes at night they drifted out open windows to visit other children in the town. The contagion spread slowly but inexorably.
The creature left his name scrawled upon nursery walls in blood. "I am Corollus, King Vampyre. Who dares to stand against me?" Rulers of the afflicted towns sent petitions to the monastery of Sif, seeking the aid of the most famous paladin of all, Lady Raquel Druscard known as the Valkyrie. A few rulers even sent to the Necromancer Lord Arkruel Morthelm begging for help.
The thirteen larger towns within Brocalinde were isolated one from the other by the Forest of Brocalinde, that covered the interior of the peninsula. The forest was filled with minotaurs and ogres, who worshipped a particularly blood thirsty God, called Karx Blood Axe. Even worse, were the tribes of inbred and cannibalistic half-elves who worshipped "Chemosh Granter of Unclean Lusts". Most people preferred to travel around the thousand miles of coastline, rather than risk a trip through the forest.
The paladins of Sif, goddess of love, just wars, and other good things, prepared to lead a war patrol into the forest of Brocalinde. This force consisted of six paladins of Sif and two paladins of Hel, goddess of death and enemy of all undead. (The paladins of Hel, Razor and Nikador appeared in Lords of Darkness one. Together with Kitric, Dell and Tarloc; the five wiped out a band of minotaur raiders.) Fifty knights, all trained fighters joined the war patrol as volunteers. The Valkyrie led her force into the forest. They were soon involved in fights with small bands of half elves. Minotaurs and ogres ambushed the force intent on feasts of horsemeat and humans to sacrifice. The war patrol encountered no cannibal bands led by vampires. (We shall return to the fortunes of The Valkyrie and her war patrol in episode three of this saga.)
The Black Manor
The Forest of Brocalinde also sheltered a certain exiled necromancer and his family who had the audacity to erect a manor house along the river Charr only fifty miles from the major town of Brocalinde Port. Designed by a long dead architect and erected by the untiring labor of undead workers; the Black Manor was a much more attractive and luxurious place than the rat infested castles many rulers called home. When an occasional trade caravan or war patrol passed the manor, the riders ignored the building. Travel through the forest was dangerous enough without antagonizing a necromancer and his evil henchmen, (mostly henchwomen actually).
The Black Manor was a two- story wood and stucco building with a tower on each of its four corners. Each tower was the residence of a villain who styled himself a Lord of Darkness, or if the villain was a woman, then a Lady of Darkness. There was Lady Olindara, a witch and daughter of the necromancer. Lady Olindara was engaged in the search for a spell to save the children afflicted by the bite of the King Vampyre. She had always loved children. It was her sole redeeming virtue. No one is completely evil, but Olindara came very close.
Another was Roland Sorley, a paladin of Fenris the Black Wolf whose skills with the two saber style of fencing were only exceeded by his mastery of battle magic The third tower was occupied by the beautiful druidess Georginna Trask and a few giant spiders whose presence discouraged callers. (In Lords of Darkness one, our hero Kitric bartered his soul for spells to win her love.)
Occupying luxurious suites within the manor were four young people. One was Ginger Sadowa who handled assassinations, kidnappings and grave robbery for Lord Arkruel. Another was Rienna, Lady Olindara's daughter, a girl with no arcane talents. The ranger Dell an orphan raised with Olindara's children was the third. Kitric, the necromancer's grandson and reluctant acolyte, was the fourth. Hyanadons could usually be found wandering freely through their rooms, the ones with four legs curled up on the floor, those with legs and arms, perched awkwardly upon some heavy chest or stool.
The fourth tower was the residence of First Lord Arkruel Morthelm himself. Beneath this tower, dungeons and chambers filled with cabalistic signs, descended level by level deeper into the earth. At the very bottom of the dungeons, the necromancer kept his undead minions and some of the people responsible for his exile. Only the necromancer himself, and Ginger Sadowa who kidnapped his enemies and robbed their graves had ever returned from here to the surface world. Even Kitric had never seen the horrors of this level, although he suspected its existence. In public, Lord Arkruel acted the part of a tolerant and even likable old man. Alone in his tower, he plotted revenge and the conquest of all Brocalinde. No, he did not intend to raise an army of undead. Necromancers have that much power only in folk stories. His grandson Kitric would command an elite force of fighters and mages mounted upon carnivorous beasts created by Arkruel and the lady Georginna.
First Lord Arkruel Morthelm had quickly discovered from the female ranger Dell that Georginna returned Kitric's love. She had suffered heartbreak as a young woman and was afraid to admit her feelings. There was also the disappointing failure of her first marriage that ended with the druidess killing her husband and disposing of the evidence by feeding him to her giant insects. Still, as philosophers agree, we have to pick ourselves up emotionally and get back on the horse. Lord Arkruel prepared two spells to cast in the hall before Kitric's apartment. One was a spell of rage, the other a truth spell that forced those in the area to divulge their secrets. Necromancers do not brew love potions. Finally, he bribed his butler's young and buxom wife to engage in a little play-acting in exchange for a ruby pendant.
The butler's wife bent over in front of Kitric displaying her two best assets. Then, she straddled him and showed him some interesting places to put his hands. As Georginna came around the corner, the shameless cheater was stripping off her blouse and whispering words of love. The druidess turned around to leave, tears pouring from her eyes, shocked by the intensity of her feelings.
Tears of sadness were replaced suddenly by tears of rage. Georginna withdrew a tiny millipede from her pocket and whispered a simple spell. Then she dropped the millipede, now 18 inches long, between the slut's breasts. The butler's wife screamed and tore at the insect that clung stubbornly to her flesh. Georginna yelled, "Don't you ever touch him again. He is mine alone." Finally, the druidess made a sincere attempt to kick the young man in his privates. Kitric avoided the savage kick and the punches that followed. The butler's wife had run away. Kitric held Georginna until the tears stopped, then carried her into his rooms, dropped her on the bed and shut the door.
They kissed for a long time and made their vows of love. They agreed to slip away to the Firedog tavern in Brocalinde port for a lover's tryst. When Dell walked into Kitric's rooms to see if he wanted to play a game of rovers, she found them fast asleep in each other's arms. She was surprised to see they still had on most of their clothes.
A remote part of Brocalinde Forest
Within the Forest of Brocalinde stood an ancient and almost deserted tower. A tribe of half elves, outcasts and squatters, lived in and about the tower; their garbage making the ambiance even less attractive. A stairway wound down into the depths of the earth.
The bat-faced creature that had once been a handsome half-elf warlord rose from the coffin of earth in which he had rested. "How progresses our campaign of terror?"
The witch/priestess of Chemosh, turned from her crystal and sneered at him. "Not one lord of importance has yet renounced his Gods and turned to the worship of Chemosh. A few dimwits have arrived to join the tribes of inbred cannibals you call your army. Your reign of terror is a complete failure. Several of the town rulers have sent to the Lord Arkruel Morthelm, seeking help to destroy you."
"For a thousand years I lay beneath skull mountain, trapped by a cave-in; lured to my doom by a paladin of the Serpent People. All that time I absorbed the power Chemosh Granter of Unclean Lusts chose to bestow up me. Nothing upon Volante is as powerful as I, not even a dragon. Show me this Lord who would challenge me."
Stregoi rubbed blood from a virgin youth upon the crystal and sent a prayer winging downward into the demon realms. As the blood sank into the crystal, the Black Manor appeared, cloudy at first, then with crystal clarity. "See, by the power of Chemosh, their arcane defenses are pierced with ease."
The largest tower had dungeons and chambers reaching far underground. An old man walked the corridors, amusing himself by tormenting the prisoners, living or undead, which cluttered the cells. "First Lord Arkruel Morthelm, a necromancer as ruthless as yourself who plans his own conquest of Brocalinde.
"There is one other who may possibly upset our plans." The scene shifted to a luxurious apartment. A woman in her mid-twenties lounged upon a couch, her arms wrapped around a much younger man. She was a gorgeous mix of creamy skin, glorious black hair and a lovely face featuring emerald green eyes. Kitric may have received a fair trade for his soul after all.
The bat-faced creature turned from the crystal and smiled. "Who is that young idiot?"
The witch responded, "You see the Lord's grandson Kitric Morthelm Alpein, a young idiot as you say, yet he has power. Better that he die now before he develops the maturity and Will to wield necromancy and seeks revenge."
"An arrogant old man, and a boy lying in his woman's arms like a lap dog. I had hoped for more challenge after a thousand years. The old man and his grandson shall die in agony. The throat of Kitric's woman shall become my drinking chalice."
The Firedog Tavern in Brocalinde Port, three days later
Georginna lay back with a satisfied smile on her face. "Have I ever told you how much in love I am?"
Kitric bent over to kiss her. "You are not a druidess, you are an enchantress. Come with me to the Temple of Sif and we can make our betrothal vows to one another."
"Are you sure?" she responded. Can you give up all other girls, and particularly young wives with big breasts? I killed my first husband and fed his body to my insects. I didn't even love him. If you ever touch another woman, I would do worse to you, then kill myself."
Kitric laughed, " I love it when you talk about killing me. A beautiful woman threatening bloody revenge is so sexy."
That evening in Brocalinde Port
The mob rampaged down Trade Street, spilling into alleys and sacking houses. They were searching for blood drinkers. So far, they had grabbed two known child molesters and a pathetically deformed child. They tied their prisoners to dock posts in the harbor, then watched while the tide came rushing in.
Marquesa Aleta rode her mare into the mob, begging them to release their victims. Eight pot-bellied and inebriated archers escorted her. She was paying the salaries of twenty incompetent guards, but the rest had run away. Only the archers too fat and lethargic to even desert remained with the Marquesa.
The mob responded with fury. "What about my daughter, disappeared from her fourth story bedroom? What about my infant found bloodless in his crib? Our children are bled dry while your guards piss themselves with fear and refuse to patrol at night." Aleta was dragged from her horse. The guards, too slow and fat to run away, were stomped into the muddy street.
A young man sauntered casually out the door of the Firedog tavern and grinned at the mob. "You are doing it wrong. Drown a blood drinker, and he will return as an undead.
What you need to do is get a nice hot bed of charcoal and burn some mistletoe boughs.
Then you take these two men and grill them. That's the way to destroy a blood drinker. Now release the cretin kid and the young lady too. Apologize to her for getting mud on her pretty frock. There's two ways this can play out. One way is that I pay for a few kegs of ale and some ribs and we can have a nice evening. The other way, I take out this broadsword and things get real ugly."
Aleta grabbed up the child and ran to Kitric. She begged him to save the two men also.
"It is a lot easier to deflect a mob than stop one", he responded pushing her away from his sword arm. Someone was fated to die tonight. Would you rather I gutted twenty of your townspeople? Would you rather I got swarmed under and hacked to death? Besides, they may actually be blood drinkers. Thank the Goddesses I was here to save the kid and you. Let those two men save themselves.
It takes a long time to get a deep bed of charcoal really hot. It only took a few minutes for the men's screams to cease. A message had been sent upstairs to Georginna asking her to come out and greet an unexpected guest. "Georginna this is Aleta Strond my second cousin who I just met for the first time tonight. Aleta meet Georginna Trask my lover who has just agreed to our betrothal." The two women embraced and had soon become friends. Georginna asked Aleta to stand as witness to their vows and she agreed.
The betrothal oath taking was a simple ceremony lasting only a few moments. The couple stood before a statue of Sif and responded to the questions of a young priestess.
The priestess first questioned Georginna about her previous marriage. "Records show that you were married once before. The priestess of Hel performed no funeral for your husband. Are you sure he is deceased and you may legally remarry?"
"My first husband died within Brocalinde forest, Georginna responded. He had a more nature oriented send off. I am very sure he is dead."
The priestess decides that the ceremony may proceed. "We, Georginna and Kitric, come before the Goddess to declare our love and our firm intent to marry this summer. We ask the Goddess to bless our betrothal."
I, Aleta Strond, stand witness to the joining of Georginna and Kitric."
The priestess recites, "You are now joined as one in the eyes of our goddess. May your love continue all your lives." The simple ceremony is over.
The Black Manor four days later
Upon their return to the Black Manor, each resumed life as before. Georginna returned to her tower and the creation of blasphemous monsters. Kitric hunted in the woods with Dell and Tarloc, played rovers, and practiced swordplay. Each evening at the witching hour, he joined his grandsire. From within the safety of a pentagram, they bargained with devils or performed the unholy rites that summon things from beyond the grave. Lord Arkruel never sought the help of demons. They delight in cheating on their bargains he explained to Kitric. A devil may want your soul, but he delivers what you ask for it.
The deformed child Kitric had rescued was turned over to the groundskeepers, given a place to sleep and some job to perform.
Olindara's anger at the two of them had set the sky on fire literally. The witch called down lightning. Weird gray bolts of energy had the inhabitants of the manor diving for cover. Using her daughter Rienna as a messenger, she let Kitric know that he would never again be allowed to set foot within her tower, nor ever again call her mother. "Can you spell ‘overreactmuch'" Rienna laughed while delivering the message.
"Lady Olindara will probably come around in five or six years", Kitric observed hopefully.
"Try five or six decades," Georginna guessed.
The King Vampyre attacks
Four hours past midnight, when Arkruel and Kitric were both exhausted, the manor came under attack.
The wyvern, a midnight black shape shot through with lines of pink energy, landed upon the lawn behind the manor. Upon its back rode a pretty blonde woman carrying a rod of power that she aimed at one of the back doors of the manor. The iron- banded door caught fire and exploded inwards, killing an unlucky servant passing by with a bucket.
The lawn was suddenly filled with warriors running silently toward the smashed entrance. Some were dragged down by the hyanadons which had now been loosed. Others entered the manor and began smashing doors and killing sleepy people with their battle hatchets.
Kitric ran out his door and collided with three incredibly ugly women naked aside from their leather armor and reeking horribly of rancid grease. Hatchets were more deadly than a broadsword in the confined space of the corridor. They came at him, screaming that such a pretty boy would not even need roasting to be tender and delicious. Kitric took one step back to lure them in. They came at him together. Their mistake was to all attack with the same overhand swing. He parried, aiming not at the hatchets but the women's forearms, drawing the edge of his broadsword back along a line horizontal to his body. Three severed hands fell to the floor. Kitric turned and raced for the main hall, not bothering to finish them off.
In the main hall, the battle was already turning against the invaders as the manor's war masters and the hyanadons; part hyena, part dire wolf, and part raptor; all combined into one lightning quick armored predator gave the cannibals a lesson in how to kill. Outside, Tarloc was leading more hyanadons, issuing commands in strange birdlike whistles that may have come from the long extinct raptors since the sounds did not resemble in any way the languages of wolf or hyena.
Kitric ran towards Georginna's tower almost mad with worry for her safety. Then he saw her outside, guarded by Dell and two war masters. Georginna had set loose a dozen millipedes over eight feet long that attacked anyone approaching her tower. "Kitric get out of here, she yelled. These bugs will eat anything that doesn't eat them first and I have lost control of them. Georginna and her guards retreated into the tower. Dell remained near the doorway, shooting arrows into the wyvern. She waved a happy greeting.
Lady Olindara was casting magic to neutralize the witch/bitch riding the wyvern. "Kitric, we have this covered. See to your grandfather."
Kitric ran back inside to enter the necromancer's tower that way. Even Lord Arkruel was not paranoid enough to booby trap that way in. No one risks incinerating himself in a careless moment. A black-garbed figure, masked and carrying throwing stars dripping with poison followed him silently.
Kitric stopped at the stair winding from the top of the tower to the deepest dungeon. He listened intently and finally started downward. Then, he stopped and listened again, his broadsword pointed back the way he had come. When the masked figure slipped around the corner, she faced the unswerving tip of a broadsword. She swore in mixed admiration and frustration. "Did you know I was following?"
"Never heard a sound, he replied, I just like to check my back trail once in a while."
"A useful survival trait, Ginger acknowledged. Not to worry, I've got your back. She put away her stars and drew a heavy knife almost two foot long with a reverse curved blade. This was blessed by a priest of Kali long ago." She drew a finger across her throat A dozen steps behind him and silent as a ghost she followed him down the stairs.
Outside, the paladin of Fenris charged the witch upon the wyvern. "Black Wolf see your paladin deal final death." If he heard Lady Olindara yell at him not to touch the witch with his blade, he gave no indication. At twenty paces away, he hurled his spear into the wyvern which sprang into the air with a cry of pain, then fell back to earth, mortally wounded. Drawing his two sabers, he thrust one completely through the witch and smashed her wand of power with the other. There came a blinding flash of pink energy. When the people watching the combat recovered their eyesight, there was only a dying wyvern. Both paladin and witch had disappeared. Some onlookers imagined they heard an obscene tittering laugh fading into the distance.
Lord Arkruel Morthelm glared out from the failing safety of the pentagram at his would be destroyers. Three powerful vampires circled about the sign, eager to break in.
A bat-human hybrid creature at least nine feet tall concentrated upon a spell he had cast.
The creature had an amused, self-satisfied smile on its bat face. Up the stair from the dungeons many levels below, retribution was finally coming to find the necromancer.
Gaunt and hollow eyed men and woman rushed upward followed by shambling undead.
The King Vampyre had released them from their cells. Living prisoners and undead alike now sought only a bloody vengeance and then oblivion.
A pentagram is meaningless to, and powerless against, a living man or woman. They rushed towards Arkruel, obliterating the magical mark with their feet. No longer held in check, the three vampires also attacked Lord Arkruel. Ghouls and zombies shuffled forward to share in the blood and the revenge. The bat faced creature smiled as he mocked Lord Arkruel. "I am Corollus, King Vampyre. I destroy you now. Who will they find to send against me next?"
Kitric's broadsword was at work before his mind registered exactly what was happening within the spell chamber. Wretched prisoners and undead finally found peace as he struck off their heads and impaled their hearts. A vampire, however, is impervious to steel unless a priestess has blessed that weapon. Magic swords were like city guards; there was never one around when you needed it.
Lord Arkruel grabbed his grandson in an iron grip. "Your sword is useless. Join your Will to mine." Kitric stood motionless as his grandsire traded spells with the King Vampyre. He was as passive as a lightning rod, absorbing a terrible physic beating so that the powerful Lord Arkruel could concentrate on the attack. Ginger Sadowa fought the vampires. Her Kali blessed knife slashed deadlier wounds than their fangs and claws. The amused smile had left the bat face of the creature. Now, he showed the strain of the battle. "Come and fight me sword to sword. Are you too craven a coward to duel Corollus to the death?"
Kitric would have sold his soul, if it were still his to barter, to surrender to the mad urge to fight the creature. Yet, he stayed next to his grandsire, enduring the waves of pain, and lending the old man the strength to continue the combat. It seemed an eternity of pain and humiliation had passed since he broke into the spell chamber. Suddenly, the Vampyre turned into a bat of smoke and flew straight at Lord Arkruel. The broadsword passed through the smoke without harming or stopping it. The bat head entered the necromancer's chest and bit his heart.
The bat of smoke attempted to bite Kitric but failed. Dawn was near to breaking and its powers were in eclipse. The creature regarded the chamber floor where three vampires lay cut to pieces. "You owe me a debt of blood for destroying my three most powerful children, little ninja girl. We will meet again and settle up."
"You can count on it," she answers.
The creature smiled a terrible smile at Kitric and spoke again. "I have opened a hole in your grandsire's heart. He is dead already. His body just doesn't know it yet.
"You did well boy," the Vampyre continued. "Your Will is strong and your sword deadly. You remind me a lot of myself when I was alive and young. Perhaps I shall kill you right away instead of making you watch as I suck the blood from the women you love, your mother, your sister, and that delicious evil druidess."
Kitric laughed and replied to Corollus, "The only thing you are going to suck on is the hawthorn stake I shove down your throat until it splits your heart."
Aftermath of the Battle for the Manor
Just after dawn the attack upon the manor was ended. The cannibal warriors had all been killed. The witch/bitch and Paladin of Fenris were both gone without a trace. The King Vampyre had fled from the approach of daylight.
Kitric dragged his grandfather up the dungeon stair and out of the tower. Ginger followed, guarding them both. Kitric breathed in the fresh morning air and looked upon the forest and the sunrise. The world took on a tilt to his right and began to rotate slowly clockwise. He fell down on the hard ground, unconscious before he hit.
Ginger Sadowa had learned the healing arts from an order of warrior monks in the far south. When the monks found out that she had perverted their arcane knowledge to become an assassin, Ginger relocated to the forest of Brocalinde. She now handled assassinations, kidnappings and grave robbery for Lord Arkruel who adored her. Ginger ordered Arkruel carried into her apartment and placed on the bed. She burned herbs in a brazier and a relaxing narcotic smoke circulated through the room. Tiny needles were inserted into his body. "He has suffered a massive heart attack, she informed his daughter, but I believe he will survive. However, the next strong attack will surely kill him. His heart has been pierced by the vampire's astral fangs creating a hole beyond my skills to cure. Stay with him while I tend to the other wounded."
Kitric lay upon the lawn behind the manor, semi-conscious and shivering uncontrollably.
Georginna and Dell were cradling him on either side. A servant wrapped blankets around the three of them. Ginger uncovered a small ceramic pot and held it by Kitric's face. He breathed in the same narcotic herbs Ginger had used on his grandfather. "You are doing the correct thing, Ginger told the two girls. He is in shock and cannot be moved. Your warmth may save him."
A week passed during which time Kitric recovered rapidly. Arkruel kept slipping in and out of consciousness. The healers worried that he would develop pneumonia and die.
Georginna had moved into Kitric's rooms to care for her lover. Her favorite pet, a tarantula big as a bear cub came with her. Georginna educated her lover about the joy to be experienced in having one for a pet. Tarantulas she told him, are harmless unless attacked, and enjoy being petted. They are practically blind and hunt by scent. Unless her man smelled like a giant roach he would not be considered prey. Kitric found he could tolerate the spider's presence during the daytime. By pretending it was a dog, he could even pet it. However, at night he would awake in a cold sweat imaging the tarantula climbing silently up onto the bed and across his face
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