The Nethermancer screamed out, his vocal chords tearing as he used the last of his energy to try and bring Mal down as well. A sound-wave sped towards him, spreading as it moved before becoming miles wide within the blink of an eye. Mal growled and bit his tongue, thrusting the charred stump of his left elbow out before running his index and middle finger on his right arm out from that point up into the sky. Another incantation passed through his head and he summoned an illusory sword that swung down, cutting the shock-wave in two and bearing down upon the Nethermancer. He had won. He laughed and propelled himself up into the sky without a care in the world. There was no way for his life's nemesis to escape now. The burning rose below and the saint sword above, they were his two most practiced incantations and while they were not as strong as the devil dogs or the first of the great lord, he could bring out more in them with less of a cost to his rapidly emptying magic power and with far greater impact than one would expect.
Mal was an Evoker, one of the major Arcana, with the ability to bring manifestations of his imagination into the world with a chant or a set of movements. The more vivid his image, the more powerful the manifestation. He had spent hundreds of years, nay thousands, on a journey to become the greatest magi ever. He planned to take heavens crown and wear it, ruling over all as an uncaring but very interested god.
His plan, however had been discovered by Agalmas Dver, the Nethermancer. Part human and part banshee, Dver had been known for his ability to manipulate sound and shadow, becoming the world's most feared broker of secrets and leader of the league of wetworkers, the Diver. Dver knew of the legend of the heaven's crown, but had not believed it until he encountered Mal on his way to where they both thought the crown would appear. This had solidified the idea that the crown was real to Dver, as he knew Mal, the great Evoker Malkam Allass, would not take the journey if it was a pipe dream. Dver had encountered Mal before, several times throughout their long lives, and not once had the two been fighting on the same side. Mal was the bright star of Arum, an intellectual and an artist, while the Nethermancer was anything but.
They fought for a thousand miles before finally they reached the Field of Stars in the eastern lands, each spell injuring them or ruining the landscape, until finally they both saw it. The crown, in all its glory, sat in the air, hundreds of miles into the sky just waiting to be grabbed by someone. Mal unleashed his final spells and shot up to get the crown while Dver screamed impotently at his impending death. They were both missing limbs and lots of blood by then, with Dver losing his last arm to the sword that sank into him. He roared out into the air, with a devilish glint in his eye.
“I curse you!” He screamed, “I curse you Malkam Allass, and I curse the heaven's crown! With the last of my life and ask of my soul, I hex this crown to never fall into your hands in this life. I reject you and sacrifice my soul to take you down with me!” As he apart the words out a black shadow seemed to outline his body. There was a rumbling as Mal looked at his life's work, his only wish, fade away into nothing and he screamed. He screamed an anguished wail of someone truly defeated when victory was within his grasp. Mal turned and looked at Dver, the fire off torment in his eyes as he wished to inflict the pain that he felt upon the man who had stolen too much from him but he could see he was too late.
From the shadows that surrounded Dver thin bone-like hands slid your and began dragging his body into the shadow itself. Slowly, inexorably, the shadow consumed the great Nethermancer until all that was left was the man's laughing face, cackling at his doom and at Mal’s bad luck. He knew the curse was not yet over.
Behind Mal a shadow like the one that had consumed Dver appeared. It spread like ink until it had become a grim aura around him and began to let out a strange energy that made Mal’s skin crawl. He turned just in time to see an aberration slide half way out of the dark pool. It was a beastly creature, with bone-tight leathery skin and eye sockets devoid of anything but an ominous putrid light. It opened its lipless mouth and let out a toothless, tongueless scream that shattered the will of the great magi who was standing on his deathbed.
It reached out with a bony hand and pushed at Mal’s chest. Mal could do nothing but watch as the aberration grabbed his body and tore it away from him, leaving his astral form floating in the air to watch as his body was consumed by the darkness. He screamed impotently at his quickly disappearing body before feeling the tug of the great wheel pulling him into his next life. Slowly, inexorably, and eventually the great wheel pulled him through the realm, through one phase of existence to the next, until finally he reached a great gate, a doorway to his next life.
His heart would have leapt out of his mouth if he still had a body as he helplessly trudged towards the eventual destruction of his memories and return to the realm as a newborn. He would have wept for his lost life if he had tears to shed, but all he could do was walk.
He reached the great gateway and finally stepped through it, but the moment he stepped through the doorway he met a wall. It was soft and flexible, but a grey black like the colour of the aberration’s shadow. It stretched out for a moment, giving way to him walking through the gateway to his next life before it snapped behind him, wrapping around his astral body like a net. He cried out a strange spectral cry, a soundless scream, a hopeless wail, but the moment it covered his body he knew he could not be free of the curse, and whatever it did it would pass to his next lifetime.
As he passed through the gate he heard a whisper. He turned his head, but there was no one there. He knew he was hearing Dver’s last will and testament, or at least his last venomous cry as he dug in the knife one last time, enacting his vengeance upon Mal’s dreams. You will never get to the crown, Malkam, and the worst part is that you are going to remember this life in your next, just so you know that while you live the crown will be forever out of your reach...
No comments:
Post a Comment