The Wizard

Necropolis

A bubble of air the exact size of the outer circumference of Luhng's wingspan rocketed above the northern continent. Inside, Mevner's arms flattened to his sides, Grimble's crossed over his chest, and Øregård's clenched his sword. An invisible swimmer glided toward Mevner, she reached for his hand, climbed onto his back, and rode him like a dragon through the sky. 

The wizard focused on their trajectory and guided them towards their destination. He breathed slow and calm in a perfect meditative state. The Stone Mountains tapered into the great forest which thinned into the western plains. Roaming herds of elk leapt across the vast fields at seemingly a snail's pace from so high above. 

At high altitude supersonic speeds, the world shrunk and slowed to nothing more than a simple living sphere flowing in symbiotic balance. No signs of life were visible in the ruins of the western fortress nor in the city that surrounded it. Outside the sprawling capital, nature had returned to its mastery. The old fortress looked melted with mold, a dripping black and white splotch on the pristine landscape.

Thick rain clouds hung over the city, billowing out from the glades beyond. It had once been impenetrable, easily defended from all sides, and only accessible from the wide-open prairie in front. There were no indications of Mazlo's army but that didn't mean it wasn't there.

Mevner opened his arms and as if a dragon flapping its wings, they slowed, turned in space, and landed gently not twenty yards from the city gates. 

"No matter how many times I fly, I will never tire of it. It's the only way to see the world." Grimble walked forward dragging his hammer in the yellow grass. 

"An incredible, memorable experience. Merci beaucoup." Pathos lowered her hood for a moment with a shit-eating ear to ear grin, winked at Mevner, and disappeared again. 

The once fortified and renowned city gates lay undefended and open to the world. No tower guards on the wall, no merchants, no townspeople, no horses, no cattle nor sheep, the inner streets were empty. Carts packed with goods sat at the side of the road. Shops abandoned as if owners had simply walked away. It was once a city a hundred thousand strong, the trading mecca of the west. 

Mevner walked through the gates. The armory's door lay open with glasses and plates left out on the table. There were no weapons on the rack. 

"There's no sign of an exodus. They didn't take anything but their weapons." 

"They must have cleared out in a hurry. The stalls are still full." Grimble picked up a rack of rotten fruit and dumped it into the empty street. 

"And what of the animals? The livestock is gone." Mevner looked in the large empty stables of the city guard.

Only flies and insects seem to exist inside the cities gates. No other sign of life at all. They headed towards the citadel through the ghost town. Doors ajar, windows with shutters propped open, curtains drifted in the gentle breeze. Gloomy clouds tumbled overhead as they made their way through the silent streets.

Out over the prairie, sun rays streaked through the drifting cumuli, but at the fortress gate, the light was blotted out. The battlement had an unnatural decay to it. Its stone walls seemed to have crumbled and aged a thousand years. 

They passed beyond the fortress gates to the halls within. All the objects that would suggest humans once occupied the space were there but in a terrible state of neglect. Candles sat on tables set for a dinner that never came. Pillows on chairs gathered thick layers of dust. The scent of spoiled food wafted out of an evacuated kitchen. 

They worked their way through the gloomy interior, room after vacant room. In a back vault off the main hall, Øregård gestured to a flickering torchlight. At the back of the room, there was a single flame marking a shadowed doorway that led to a stone stairway going down. 

"Into the dungeon we go!" 

Grimble clanked down the stairs, the fire gem in his hammer giving off an orange glow as he turned a corner and disappeared from sight. Øregård followed. Mevner snapped his fingers three times and a soft white glow emanated from the ice ring which he pointed ahead as he descended into darkness. 

"I'll be with you the entire time, mon amie," an unseen voice whispered in Mevner's ear.

Two flights down they cam to the fortress prison. The reek of pungent nasty sewage swallowed the air. Heavy iron doors led to the main holding cell with its ancient square metal bars. Mevner shined his ring's light in and the sound of shuffling movement grabbed everyone's attention. 

"Master is that you?" said a coughing cranky voice.

Mevner's light revealed a skinny old man in rags with tiny spectacles and a head of curly unkempt bright white hair. 

"Ah, yes, I see, young master, it is you." He wiped his sniveling nose and came to the bars and rested his hands on them.

" And two big friends. Well, ah, I wasn't expecting them, you know." 

"But you were expecting me?" Mevner asked. 

"Well, that is to say, I didn't know for sure, I couldn't be positive as to when, but I left the light out for you. I make sure it's lit. Every day. Just like the master ordered. I didn't let you down. And now, here you are."

 He looked nervously back and forth from the ogre to the titanium version of an ogre. 

"I didn't expect these two. Twins?" 

"Not exactly. Who put you in here, my good man?" asked the gnome from his metal soldier's skull. 

"Why, you know the master, put me here. He put me here to wait. To wait for you. You see?" 

Mevner looked into the man's crazed eyes. "What's your name?" 

"Name? I, ah? That's not important. The message! I have to give it to you, deliver the message." 

"And what is this message?" 

He ran back into his cage and fell to the ground frantically running his hands through the muck on the floor, until the sound a metal sliding on stone brought him back to his feet. 

"Here! Here it is! You see, I have it, here, here!" 

He ran back to the prison door and putting his bony hand through the bars slid an old skeleton key into the lock and released himself from his cage. He walked out holding up the key and beaming with pride and purpose. The emaciated man looked less than a day away from starving to death. 

"Oh, I'll be rewarded for this. I told the master he could trust me. I wouldn't let him down. And I wouldn't, ah, let you down either, young master. He told me you would come." 

He ran with a shuffling limping leg down the hall to the stone wall at its end. 

"This is it, you see. The entrance. I am to show you the way! I hold the key, the message, the entrance, young master. I've waited, I knew you would come. And now, you are here!" 

He felt around the wall with shaky hands until he found what he was looking for. He slid the key into a small opening and turned it. In the silence of the prison, heavy metal gears could be heard turning. The large brick wall began to move and eventually cranked opened to reveal another pitch-black stairwell. 

"See, young master, the way in. The entrance to the necropolis. The way, to the master's world." He bowed low and gestured them through with his gaunt anorexic arm. 

Øregård and Grimble began walking down the wide stone staircase with the orange glow of the hammer leading the way. Mevner passed the old man and handed him a half loaf of bread from his bag. 

"Oh, thank you, thank you, gracious young master. So kind. So generous. Thank you! You will tell him, tell the master, tell him, I did it, I let you in, I did, showed you the way and gave the message... You will have safe passage to the one you seak and there, death awaits you." 

He ran back into his cell screaming incoherently. 

Mevner followed the others. He'd counted twenty-seven steps before the stone door began to close behind them with a metal grind that sealed them in the cold dark silence of the grave. 

 Down they went into the inky black.