Light of Elliana: Book One—Of Tears & Darkness

Chapter Eleven: Dark Powers

Concerning Tarran’s earlier public address to the citizens of Kandalare and the Declaration of War had come as no surprise to Maska. For, he had previously attended a private meeting with General Theodore Anxeswel and the king weeks earlier. The purpose of the meeting was to discuss a note that had arrived from Donovan by a henna falcon.

The note had read, as follows: “Father, have arrived at Drennard. Everyone massacred, including Uncle Samuel and his patrol, by Nyen, Kang, and Giants. I am in pursuit. ~Donovan.” To Chief Maska of the Tatano Clan of the Edenaw Tribe, of the Menduwaka, People of the Wind, the note meant that war had landed in their midst.

Maska and Cearne, his life-mate, each sat upon their padded setto bench, beside each other. The Centaur Chieftain was relaxing, as the sun was beginning to set in a blaze of pink, ochre, and gold. In the distance, at the edge of the forest, came the pleasant warbling cries of several darters as they prepared to roost for the night. One of the brick red little winged lizards landed on a branch of the shield maple above him and just as quickly flew away.

About an hour later, as the last of the sunlight was fading away, Changa returned from the walk he had taken. From all appearances, it did not appear to have helped him in the slightest, for he still seemed fidgety. His son’s face had a haggard appearance, and he had large dark circles beneath his eyes. Ever since his return earlier that day, he had been unusually quiet.

“There’s a matter we need to discuss. It is something for right now, the rest of the clan shouldn’t hear,” Changa said in a lowered voice.

Concern filled Cearne’s face, and Maska took her hand and gently squeezed it reassuringly. They each picked up their setto and followed their son inside their gold-colored takaet shelter. The Centaur Chieftain drew the felt door shut, as Changa lit the polished brass oil-lamp and retrieved a map from the elaborately carved red oak chest behind him. Moments later, the three of them gathered around the matching red oak table.

Changa unrolled the leather map and traced a route with his finger. “The enemy who destroyed Drennard escaped across a rope and wood bridge, right about here. They were led by a Giant who wore black armor and a helm crested in bright red plumage. He called himself General Anktar.”

Maska stared at the map while mulling over what Changa had said. For a few moments, he stared at his son quietly, not believing what he had heard. “A Giant, commanding troops? That is a new one.”

Cearne looked at Maska. He could see she was as puzzled as he was. “What could this mean, Maska? The great beasts have always sought to eat anything that comes within their reach.”

“I do not know what to think. Giants have always attacked everything else, trusting only themselves.” Maska scratched his head while studying the map once more.

“The locals spoke to us of hearing large wings flapping in the darkness and of people disappearing,” Changa said in a lowered voice as if fearing someone else might overhear.

“Large wings flapping in the darkness? Dark Binder priests are evil, but they do not fly. They most assuredly will wield their dark powers to aid their master’s cause. We have handled them before.” Maska took a long drink from his mug and set it down on the table.

“No—this is something else. As we were searching Drennard for any sign of survivors, we found Prince Samuel. His body was hanging from two spears,” Changa said quietly. He nervously licked his lips and swallowed hard.

“Oh, that poor man,” Cearne exclaimed, bringing a hand up to her forehead.

Maska looked at Changa with concern. “There is genuine fear in Changa’s eyes. It is the first time I have ever seen it there. What has happened?”

“Go on, Son. Tell us everything.” Maska waited for Changa to continue.

“Prince Samuel was killed by an enormous blow to his chest. When Donovan drew closer, his corpse came back to life and spoke to him. This, was when all the dead in Drennard came back to life and attacked us.”

“What did it have to say? What do you mean, come back to life?” Maska drew closer, not believing he had heard Changa correctly. Cearne looked at him and their son with fear in her eyes.

Changa carefully repeated every word the evil presence inside of the hanging corpse had uttered. Maska saw him tremble briefly for a moment. Then his son told them the rest of what had occurred that night. Maska stood up and took a step backward. The news had shaken him, for truly great evil had attempted to entrap and destroy Donovan. “Adumorda Necromancer,” the words echoed in the Centaur Chieftain’s mind. He recalled a legend of long ago when King Kelner was a young man.

“The legend spoke of the king encountering a strange old hermit, when he was with four of his knights, late one night. The older man’s face had looked like an old black wrinkled leather saddlebag, with sparse silvery-gray hair. The eremite’s eyes glowed a light sickly green, and he wore a black hooded robe. King Kelner and the knights had been passing the ground where a young man was buried earlier in the day.

“The poor soul had mysteriously quit breathing. The strange older man had reopened the fresh grave and had placed what looked like stone charms around the unwrapped corpse. He had slipped something small into the dead man’s mouth and had started reading from a scroll. An unholy sickly green light had begun to glimmer from the tottering older man’s eyes and about the corpse. The older man had turned to face King Kelner and the knights with a thin smile. “It’s about Necromancy. There comes a time when one’s body wears out like an old shoe. Sometimes it’s better to start over with a new one.”

“Before any of them could react, the old recluse had uttered loud, angry-sounding words. Suddenly, a blast had shattered the air around them, knocking all five of them to the ground. Immediately, the sickly green glow had grown brighter around the old hermit and the young man’s corpse. After regaining his feet, King Kelner had noted the old Necromancer was laying on the body shroud. The young man was standing, wearing the black robe. With an evil grin, the now living young Necromancer had waved and disappeared in a swirl of drifting black smoke.

“Adumorda Necromancer,” Maska said out loud. He turned to face them, seeking to reassure them but couldn’t find the words. “Some nightmares are real.” He reminded himself.

Changa’s eyes were now staring holes through him. “Adumor-Necromancer?”

“Adumorda, in the old speech, it means Ebon Spawn. They were an ancient cult who worshiped the Dark One unconditionally. Long ago, they once were human, but through their dark powers, their skin, hearts, and eyes grew as dark as ebony.”

Father, you’ve met one before?” Changa looked at him with eyes that demanded nothing but the truth.

“King Kelner did when he was a young man. They are of darkest evil and have power over the dead. Such a Necromancer is certainly beyond any Dark Binder I have ever seen or heard of,” Maska said quietly. “After all these years, could it possibly be true that some of them managed to survive the Fire War?”

“The Fire War?” Changa asked. He looked at Maska with a puzzled look.

“A little under five hundred years ago, the Adumorda rose up and waged war to conquer Etmindor. Its telling is in an old leather-bound tome in the archive. Kelner’s Bastion was not yet complete, yet despite the inherent danger, the king gathered his army and waged war against the dark cult,” Maska explained quietly.

“The war lasted a little over five years. It ended with heavy losses on Etmindor’s side, and the Ebon Spawn’s final assault was wiped out around the Watchtower of Edenas. We believed the cult was destroyed.”

“Except, the Adumorda were not all killed.”

“The enemy has had five hundred years to rebuild, and that is not good at all.” Maska rubbed his chin, knowing for certain that great dark powers were assembling and preparing for war.

Suddenly, Changa’s body convulsed once, twice, as if ridding itself of something vile. His face contorted, became filled with discomfort, then went flaccid as if spent. Weakly, he turned toward Maska. “Help me,” Changa said in a whisper.

“He had not expelled whatever was in his body, he was reacting to it leaving his body,” Maska realized in alarm. “Perhaps, it had been listening to them-spying on them.”

In the corner of the center room where they now sat, the air began to darken. The golden glow from the oil-lamp seemed unable to penetrate its dark depths. Within the shadows gathered there, a black amorphous mass arose. Cearne, Maska, and Changa retreated to the opposite side of the room, where Maska and Changa retrieved their swords.

“The Master has we will not harm the Menduwaka be in the coming war. However, we shall destroy the Manbeast armies, those who survive will serve as slaves, be eaten, or will be used as breeding stock Chief Maska, accept my offer and go in peace or aid the Manbeasts and perish, how say you?” the powerful gravelly voice said.

“You enter my home uninvited and threaten my people if we do not accept your demands? Your evil destroyed Drennard, and you believe I would turn my back on those whom I call my brothers and sisters? What I will do is stand firm beside the armies of the Five Kingdoms, we shall savage your armies and avenge our people!”

“Heed my words, foolish one! Bow to the Master and he will mercifully allow you to live or you will be destroyed.” The golden glow of the oil-lamp revealed the now-empty corner of the room.

“Why, did you not tell me of this legend before?” Cearne asked Maska quietly.

“Because it happened long ago and I had forgotten. I was young, and my mind was preoccupied with other thoughts.” Maska chuckled, looking at Cearne kindly.

“You devil,” Cearne said. She leaned over and gave him a gentle kiss.

“We need to gather all the information we can,” Changa said. He ran a hand over his face and took a deep breath while glancing once more at the now-empty corner.

“We should start patrolling the borders of our lands and those surrounding Kandalare as well. Those who lived in Drennard died because they had no warning. We must be ready at a moment’s notice.” Cearne commented in a no-nonsense tone.

“The patrols at night should be staggered and consist only of Centaurs. It will make it far more difficult for the enemy to sneak by us.” Maska nodded in agreement.

“I’m going to take a patrol out now. After what just happened, I’m taking no chances. Perhaps, it’ll help make it easier to sleep when I get back.” Changa stepped to the door flap and let himself out.

“My son, be careful. The enemy is on the move.” Maska said quietly.

Perhaps an hour later, after Changa had left, the sudden blare of the Great Horn of Edenas echoed through the air above Kandalare. Maska stared into the distance, silently wondering what it could mean. He hugged Cearne and began to gallop toward Kandalare.