Caleb's Journey

A plan is hatched

While the heroes were busy trying to find the perpetrator of the theft of the artifact, that self-same character busied himself with plans of his own. Nostarius had returned and placed the object in his master’s greedily outstretched hand. Although he wanted to keep the item for himself, he knew that withholding it, in the absence of knowing how to use it, meant his certain demise. Self-preservation, as opposed to fealty, guided the vampire’s actions.

Seizing the necklace in his hand, Xerax held it up to the candlelight. “Divinity captured in a tiny vial. Can you imagine it? How it got in here, nobody is certain. Some rumors are that her son saved it, but since that brute has no hands, I doubt it. Others say the giants worked together to gather it. Some spoke of how her brother harnessed it and hid it away for safe keeping. For what purpose, other than for me to have it and use it, I care not. It’s here and I have it and that’s what matters.” He now sat himself on his black marble, white pillow lined throne. The throne also had streaks of gold running through the marble. Xerax’s vanity had seen to him having the proper trappings of a noble and self-proclaimed Lord of the Undead. Hanging lanterns emitted an eerie light that flickered as they illuminated the hard, brown, lifeless subterranean walls.

Clad in his black robe, with silver trim that hung about his athletic frame, he also wore a band of silver, with a single emerald in the center for his crown. Every finger on his hands had a ring of alternating metals, silver on one finger, and a gold ring on the next finger. These rings held no gemstones, but each bore an inscription in some ancient language on the inside of it. As he sat on his throne, he held court with his only subject, Nostarius.

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I commend you for obtaining and retrieving the item so quickly. Your reward has already been discussed, second in command in my new world order.”

The dark vampire inclined his head, “Your majesty is too kind.”

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I know. Now, you shall know my entire plan. I’ve already remarked how I hate every living thing.” He said it with such contempt in his voice that the thin blue veins in his white face crept to the surface giving his face a bit of color. The muscles around his neck tensed as he continued. “For thousands of years of my life have I devoted my life to the research of every type of magic possible, incantations, alchemy, inscriptions, I have a library filled with tomes on subjects, all derived of my own study and all written with my own hands.”

With his slender hands, he opened one book and some dust fell onto the table. “Yes, it’s been a while since I’ve opened this one,” its owner remarked. “I’ve many more like it. In my younger days I began making other undead creatures and set them loose upon the world. I learned the art of creating them little by little. Over time I amassed the knowledge of how to manipulate various forms of magic for that sole purpose. Look at that purple bound book. That’s the Annals of the Undead. For a while I followed some of my creations, documented their lives, I learned what they learned in their travels, consorting with any of the denizens of the grave that I deemed worthy. Before you lies the most valuable artifices of my research, enough for you to feed your mind upon for years if used properly.”

He rose from his throne and headed towards a rectangular table in the middle of the room, and took a seat at the head of the table. It had papers with various markings strewn about on it, piles of leather bound, gold gilded books stacked several feet high, maps of brittle paper and fading in condition lay spread open and held down with paper weights. A banquet table of such grand size should be the place of foodstuffs, plates, goblets, and the like. The undead have no use or requirement for worldly sustenance. However, Xerax liked to maintain the trappings of his nobility. He chuckled to himself when he considered the oft accepted purpose of such an article of furniture.

Here he raised Uua’s Tear in his hand. “Not long ago this little item became known to me. Due to the magnitude of its power I suspect that some force sought to hide its existence from me. With the divine essence contained inside this vial, my studies, and my might, I intend to raise an undead legion and crush and then enslave every other race. They shall exist by my desire and for no other purpose than to serve as slaves and food for you and your brethren. At long last I shall have the kingdom that I was denied millennia ago!”

Nostarius eyes closed to slits as he focused on his master, “Do you truly believe you can raise an army capable of defeating the soldiers of the Luminarch? His forces crushed the other major races when they rose up against him and he has all of the minor races hiding and corralled in the unsettled regions beyond his borders. You would have to lay siege to his fortress on the borderland and then fight successive battles throughout the entire breadth of his realm. Such a military campaign would take years and years and if the other races, the elves, dwarves, and tigans joined forces with him it further prolongs the battle and decreases the likelihood for a favorable outcome. If you capture some lands I doubt they’d treat with our kind.”

Xerax scoffed at his companion’s inquiries, “Your lack of faith disappoints me. Do you not know who I am? In the time that I have allowed you to bask in my presence have you ever known me to execute a plan without considering every possibility, calculating the chances of success, and then moving forward only when I am sure of what to expect? None in existence has

my breadth of knowledge, patience, and insight. This venture is no different. You and I have separate tasks. It will take time to crack the nature of the magic inside of the vial and for me to divine how to best utilize it to reach my end. In the meantime, I have the power to raise an army of skeletons for battle, and create a diversion. It falls to you to visit the leaders of the minor races and convince them, by any means necessary, to join with us. Of course you won’t reveal our true purpose. Instead, say that you are my vassal and that we seek to unite with them for the purpose of destroying the Luminarch’s stronghold on the frontier so that they can invade his realm, expand their territories, and that I wish to create a minor kingdom of my own. I know you can be most persuasive when you so choose. Choose to do so, on my behalf.”

Nostarius, who had been leaning languidly against the wall, seemingly almost annoyed with his master’s words until the part that included him, now moved to the table as well. Taking a seat to the right of Xerax, he put on a more serious countenance. He leaned over and with his left hand he took one of the maps. “This one accurately depicts the locations of the various territories of the minor races. May I have it to guide me on my task?”

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Certainly. Go as soon as you are ready,” his master replied.

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How will you spend the time while I am away?”

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Hand me that black book with the red inscription from that pile to your left.”

Nostarius did as he was ordered.

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I will spend it resting. Before you reach your destination the army will begin rising from the ground. Once you have rallied all of the armies, you are to return to me.”

Nostarius now inquired about the role he truly sought to play. “What about leading the army?”

Xerax raised his hand. “I have someone else in mind for that.” Xerax pointed at the map. “Meet him here and he will have my army behind him.”

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In the meantime, how am I too busy I?”

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I thought you were past the point of having your pride wounded. It’s beneath you, really.” The Lord of the Undead took pleasure in taunting his companion. A being who lives for so long and who has seen and experienced everything life has to offer still finds that eliciting emotional responses has a new and unique feeling as every individual reacts differently to varied situations. To him, these behaviors presented a great form of entertainment. Eventually, he wearied of all of those he selected to bask in his glory and he exterminated them. Thus, for his own delight, Xerax’s tone became even more condescending, “I have the most important task imaginable for you. You are to stand guard over me. Raising so many undead from an incantation will incapacitate me and while my marble golems make for excellent protectors and nobody knows the location of my lair, save yourself, I believe that I can never be too cautious. Thus, it falls to you to occupy your free time in my home waiting for me to rise from my slumber and then we begin to pursue our true goal. Patience, Nostarius, have some patience. In the span of a few months we will sip on wine at the palace of the former Light King.”

Xerax’s countenance became grave. Flashing his immaculately white teeth, he tilted his head back and gave a wicked laugh. It was the kind of laugh that signified no real warmth or joy, like most laughs. Instead, this laugh said it was devoid of joy and only bore malice to all who heard it. “No greater task lies before you than safeguarding your king. Knowing your devious nature as I do, don’t you get any ideas about betraying me while I recover from the exertion of my energies. Oh, I don’t doubt such thoughts will take root in your sinister mind, such as absconding with the vial and using it for yourself to usurp my power.” He reached over and firmly grabbed Nostarius’ arm and gave him a menacing stare, his eyes becoming intent, almost seeming aflame, “Should I awaken and find that you have somehow attempted to alter my plans there is no place on Mithkre where you can take refuge from me and as we are both immortal, I’ll torture you for an eternity in ways which even your sharp mind lacks the capacity to fathom. Do you understand me? Carry out my instructions and return.” He chuckled, he, the heartless one, for he found no humor

, but his own amusing, “Maybe you can even read one of my books. I’d recommend the purple one.” Again he laughed his insidious laugh.

Being reminded of his secondary nature to that of his lord never sat well with Nostarius, but he typically had enough self-possession to contain his more base emotions. His desire to preserve his existence saw to that. “As you command, milord,” he said in his most complacent and humble voice, even though such humility grated on the very fiber of his being. He bowed his head as he rose from his chair. While the idea of crushing all of the other races, those among whom he had never felt comfortable or accepted appealed to his vanity, the notion of spending an eternity serving Xerax revolted him. When Xerax sought him out, the vampire thought to profit by all of the arcane lore that Xerax possessed. In his heart Nostarius wanted to rule and he had grown to despise the Lord of the Undead. Perhaps in time he would realize his wish to supplant his predecessor. In the meantime, he had to focus on the matter at hand, starting a war. “I depart at once,” he said.

Xerax waved his hand as if he were a real prince dismissing a lesser noble, “Good. Go with my approval and don’t disappoint me.” He then picked up one of his books and focused all of his attention on the pages of that leather bound tome. Once he had given his royal edict, his minion ceased to exist in his mind and he took no further notice of his subsequent actions.

For his part Nostarius left the room, his black cloaking flowing behind him as he navigated the passage out of his master’s private chamber, a sinister look forming on his face. With great alacrity he moved through the subterranean lair, his thoughts matching the look on his face. “I despise that mentally decrepit fool. He fancies himself a monarch and future master of the world. Had I his lifespan, subjugation of all of those inferior to myself would have already transpired on a much more efficient scale. Imagine, possessing invincibility and actually letting mere mortals drive you from your kingdoms if you found yourself afflicted with a communicable disease. Is he secretly ashamed of his actions to become immortal? Absurd and weak minded.”

He continued his rapid pace past the dual black, inanimate marble golems that stood eternally vigilant outside of Xerax’s personal chamber. Massive, motionless centurions whose color matched their expression

less faces, they took as much notice of the vampire as did their master upon his departure. This behavior or lack thereof, further stoked the vampire’s internal furnace. Faster

, he walked and the speed of his thoughts matched the rapidity of his gait. Smashing his fist into the carved stone wall, he envisioned driving that same hand into the head of his master and that the impact of the blow not only caused Xerax excruciating pain, but more importantly that it smashed his vanity as well. Such an image actually gave birth to the rarest of things, a smile on his face, but it was short-lived.

After all, he plotted to overthrow Xerax while that being slumbered and he had little time to engage in thoughts of fancy. He had willingly placed himself in a precarious position, that of the usurper. While maintaining an outward face of fealty it still fell to him to execute his orders, forge a military alliance between the minor races, and begin the downfall of the humans and their cohorts.

In order to supplant Xerax as master of the undead, he had to kill that which cannot be killed, well, not by any means that as of yet had been tried or discovered he told himself. Xerax decision to remove him from commanding the military campaign had severely wounded his pride for Nostarius had the highest estimation of all of his abilities, even though he had little knowledge of military command and tactics. “The fool,” Nostarius thought. “Trust me to watch over you while you slumber? How dare you relegate me to the status of a nursemaid! I will make sure that your arrogance proves to be your undoing. Sleep, vain prince. For while you lay catatonic Xerax, I’ll scrutinize your stores of knowledge and unlock the means of your destruction from them, you relic from a bygone era. Then it will be my time to usher in a new age, with me as the ruler of not only the tiny number of undead minions you command, but all of the world shall be mine!”

Having walked the cavernous confines of his companion’s lair thousands of times, he navigated them with little conscious effort and before he realized it, he stood at the bottom of the steps that led to the world outside. Damp withal, and overgrown with moss and mud the stairwell showed neglect, further amplified by the cracks that showed on each flat slab. The steps ended at the bottom of a hollowed out stone sarcophagus. Its cover, being made of the same material made it exceedingly heavy, but to Nostarius, possessed of the strength of a score of men, moving it aside was like a man opening a door, which is to say it was a no great feat. Casting aside the lid he stepped out into the dark of night, his time to live, and secured the cover so as to secret the way to his master’s lair.

Unlike every other night, the vampire felt a strange sensation, something he had not felt in many centuries, like he stepped out into a radiant sunrise. It was as though he had become a child again, the time in our lives when every morning is bright, new, and filled with hope. His hope took the shape of freedom from Xerax and the realization of his constant lust, the lust for more power. Even though ages had passed since he had beheld the rising sun, for he scorned it even though with his might he had the power to withstand its harmful rays to a degree, rays which incinerate lesser vampires and cause other types of undead varied means of either deadly or harmful effects.

Like most every aspect of his mortal life that he never missed, sunrises numbering among them, this evening had the feeling of a day filled with promise. As he stood in the moonlight he actually felt free and stopped to look about him as if he expected its soft glowing light to dissolve his imaginary fetters. Liberating thoughts took so strong a hold of him that he even went so far as to rub his wrists in a gesture of relief from having his shackles removed.

In a deep, cobweb covered place within himself a true joy emanated forth, a joy so strong that he dared not deny it its due. Angst abated for a moment and gave rise to a true smile, the smile of a boyish lad, mixed with his customary vindictive sneer, for he wasn’t so affected by a moment that every bit of his current self had to hide, but regardless it came at the thought of his overthrowing Xerax. Magic and these thoughts carried him up, up, up, into the night sky. Higher and higher he rose as he flew east, towards the land of the ogres and their most potent warlord, Skarlarth. According to the map in his possession, which he glanced at briefly before increasing his speed of flight, he saw the landmarks denoted by Xerax and figured that he would need the span of several days before reaching his destination.

Even with a map, finding the home of Skarlarth would still prove to be a challenge. After all, Xerax’s map lacked such precise detail as to the whereabouts of the abode it merely marked the territory that belonged to the ogres. Nostarius relished such challenges and figured that his master omitted information as a means of testing Nostarius’ resourcefulness. Satisfaction in his work stemmed not from finding a location or a destination or object that he had been dispatched to locate or obtain, respectively, and certainly not pleasing his master, but his sinister nature loved having to extract the necessary information from others, sometimes with wit or guile, rarely, but most often by his favored means of instilling fear through either the physical display of his might or powerful incantations. If torture was required to learn what he needed, so much the better. Goading a target into forcing him to resort to such measures wasn’t beyond his nefarious nature.

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Once I have the ogres and gnolls coerced into an alliance with Xerax’s undead legions and all forces have met at the rallying point I’ll leave them in the care of whatever inferior being he has selected to command them.” His thoughts continued with his flight. He pondered the possibilities. “Then I’ll return to Xerax’s chambers. Those mindless minions of his, the golems into which he puts such great store for protection won’t guard him against me, for they have not the mind to suspect me of anything. They lack the reason to get out of a raging fire

, let alone deduce anything from my behavior. I’d stab Xerax in his sleep or feast on his blood, if he had any, if I could.”

Both ideas struck him as entirely satisfactory options. “Instead, I’ll have to scour every book in his library for I am sure he has documented his research on that artifact. He is far too meticulous to have not done that. You think you know me after our centuries together, but you’ll find in time, if you wake from your sleep that the student has become the master.”

Higher into the night sky, he rose. His black cloak flapped freely against the night wind as Nostarius increased his speed, flight and speed being a matter of magic and mind, the innate ability stemming from his vampire blood and the velocity enhanced by magic. Over and past the graveyard and marsh that surrounded the secret crypt, past the barren lands that signified the outer reaches of Xerax’

s immediate sphere he flew. Everything about this long ago inhabited place suggested the absence of life, decaying trees with but a few bent and broken limbs, absent of all leaves, ground from which no grass ever rose, rocks and boulders scattered about, dried up streams, no sign of life, anywhere. Even the marsh, the only damp nearby, held little, if any life It was as if by common consent every object and creature agreed that no life should take root in so foul a place. Was it that or something else? Perhaps it was the planet itself, Mithkre, angry at being defiled by Xerax and the legion of undead creatures he spawned, creatures that thrived on dark magic, the kind of magic which drained his energies, stores which could not be replenished, thereby shortening his lifespan, drawing his end needlessly nearer, and that he had decided to make the land fruitless. Regardless of the reason, the land was as dark as the heart of he who now flew above it.

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My future looks brighter than it has in many a year,” that creature thought. He reflected on how he came to be in the service of Xerax. That being had sought him out and had offered to reveal great and wondrous magical enchantments in exchange for serving as his emissary. True enough, he had profited and prospered from the spells he had learned, but he had no idea that Xerax would treat him with contempt and in his estimation, ill used him.

His customary angry sneer returned to his face when he thought of how his master had duped him into service, him, a genius, being fed table scraps of magic compared to the vast stores of such knowledge he presumed Xerax possessed. What little color he had filled his otherwise ivory cheeks as he recalled the multitude of tasks, errands, and miscellany of duties he had performed compared to what he had purchased, less knowledge than he had supposed, parsed out in tiny servings like food being fed to the poor. Over time the name of his labors had become legion, murders committed(which he didn’t mind), seeking out other undead beings and summoning them to appear before their lord, materials he had gathered for potions, terrain he had been dispatched to explore and document then provide this matter to his lord, deeds great and small. Every remembrance further enflamed his ever burning heart of hatred, further fueled by his pride, and as he knew, the inevitable destruction when the Lord of the Undead wearied of him. Never had he sought the role of royal page and the notion of it incensed him. He vowed that he was performing his final tasks. Those thoughts carried him towards his next destination.