A Dead King

If It Were Only A Dragon [Chapter 8]

We followed the ruined cliff side for a while longer until a semi-intact stone stairway availed itself to us. It took a nauseating turn down a steep incline, seemingly carved out of the soft, perilous sandstone wall. The bottom reaches of the steps were near impossible to determine past the salt spray and lingering fog. Nemona led without a word, followed by the young necromancer. I couldn’t help but follow.

To take my mind off it, I announced something I had been thinking. “If we do have necromancy at our disposal… the capital has many graves and graveyards. Could an army of the undead aid us in this fight against the dragon?”

I heard the young man snicker. I could have pushed him off into the sea right there if I hadn’t been too afraid to lose balance and fall in after. Even from behind, I could tell Nemona was shaking her head.

“For the first thing, I doubt the people of the city would care to see the gruesome sight of their dead loved ones rising up from the ground.”

“What if we only resurrect the sour old aunties and other folk that people couldn’t stand in life?”

“Denied,” Nemona glanced back. “Plus, old dry bones are extra flammable. And it’s not like we have the necromantic power to pull an entire army from the ground.”

I nodded, forcing myself to kick the idea from my head. “Fine, fine. So there’s no other necromantic types like you, kiddo?” I asked Edward. I realized that he was doing an awful lot for me, and I had barely said a word to him.

“A few old blokes, gross ones,” mumbled the young man.

“No elves?”

“Elves don’t practice necromancy,” Nemona said back curtly.

“Because it is a dark, dirty magic that is forbidden and also beneath you?”

“Because Elves are bound to live long enough lives on this sphere. If you were to raise an elf from their deserved eternal slumber, they would curse you. With words and hexes both. I dare say it has happened.”

I gulped but my curiosity endured. “But… you must see many human deaths in your times, though. Would there not be any of us you would wish to see again?”

“What makes you think we wish to fraternize with humans more than necessary?”

“I don’t know what to think anymore,” I sighed, watching my every step as the stone stairs felt more and more rickety. “What even is down here?”

“The Tomb of Forgotten Kings,” the elf said with a low voice. ‘Or, what’s left of it. It suffered the same fate as the old capital.”

The steepness was starting to give way to a more even path. I didn’t dare look back and think about how far we would have to climb back up. The air was thick with salt and fog, and the rush of the waves below could be heard clearly. My ears popped as if I were climbing the stairs of the castle too fast.

Closer to the water was a boxy structure, half buried in the cliffside. A large chunk of it had come loose and fallen to the shallow water below. Crumbling cairns of eroded stone lay about the area, breaking up the already perilous path.

“These old kings, they must have been forgotten after the old capital fell, huh?” I asked. “Perhaps even fell into disgrace for allowing the city to stand here, despite warnings.”

“I guess?” Nemona shrugged. “I’ve seen plenty of human kings come and go, I hardly have a chance to remember their names. As for the rest of you humans… what sort of king would you remember? The one who supposedly killed a mythical dragon, or the king that developed streets and sewer systems to keep your cities more pleasant?”

“The second one, I’d say. I would also keep in mind the name of the King who dared to invent taxes.”

“Ah, something that both humans and elves can agree upon,” the elf said with a nod. “The concept is even older than me. Perhaps the concept was born from the underworld, rather than a king himself. Speaking of which, we’ve arrived.”

I had been too keen watching the waves and my own feet to notice the landmark before us. The main entrance was tucked into a deep crevice within the cliff. The carved stones were plastered with lichens and old dried sea growths. The whole place smelled of rot, like the fish market on a hot afternoon before the buckets of innards had been tossed to the gulls.

It must have felt like home to Edward, as he ducked inside the low door first. Nemona headed in second. As I entered, she had taken to summoning something like a wisp above her shoulder, glowing to bathe us in light, even in the depths of the cliffside.

I kept a watch on the mage’s back. The last thing I desired was the be lost within the labyrinth of death. It was only when I heard a crunch beneath my feet was when I looked down.

On the ground beneath my tread was a smattering of pale bones. I jumped back instinctively, unwilling to be the first to desecrate the tomb. “Gods, I’ve done it. Could this be the body of one of these old kings? I will not be haunted by the spirit of one of them will I?”

Both of the magi turned back and stared at the corpse.

“That is a dead gull,” Edward noted. “Did you not see the feathers? Poor thing, to get caught in here.”

I stepped over the corpse. “A body, nonetheless. And to be haunted by the spirit of one of those sky rats. Have you ever dared to eat food in their presence? They would snatch it directly from your throat if they could.”

The young man clicked his tongue and continued on his way. “Animal spirits are far less tenacious. Nemona, I sense stronger spirits this way.”

“Yes, the old notes I dug up said that the king’s chambers are at the center of the structure. Those spirits shall be our compass.”

There was all manner of moist hanging moss and spider webs within the cramped tunnels. The space was carved into the sandstone, but with larger pillars of hard stone to support the hallways. The odor of the sea was replaced by oldness— simply the odor of old things, and not just the elf.

“The spirits still hang to the bodies from when they were alive, it would seem,” I asked, seeing if I could not piece together the secrets of necromancy.

Edward nodded pensively, his face obscured in the musty darkness. “The old blokes say that the underworld mirrors our world.”

“If it mirrors our world, then do dead people even know they’re dead?’

The elf spoke up. “I don’t know, something about the term ‘underworld’ makes it seem a less pleasant place. Like full of unending screams, rain of blood… deathly taxes.”

“Well, thank you for making me fear death that much more,” I sneered. “Good Edward, remember my face if I am to pass in battle. Well, in the case of my face being utterly mangled, I have a fairly identifying birthmark my left buttcheek that you can go off of. Not that I plan to die against any dragon or any other force. What I mean to say is, I promise I wouldn’t mind you bringing me back from this underworld place for a bit. Perhaps I would be a good undead minion.”

Edward didn’t answer. He was up against a wide stone plinth with faded carvings. “I feel them. Beyond here.”

Nemona pressed her hand against the stone. Without thinking, I took the initiative, pushing up with them. “Well, a door of some sort? Between me, a kid, and an ancient woman, I figure this is a job for the least frail of us.”

The other two stepped back. My arms were able to reach either side of the stone. My fingers, dug tight into the cracks at either side, could feel the faint cold aid on the other side.

“Reminder your training, Gladius,” I huffed to myself. “Lift with your legs, not your back.”

I felt the veins in my face throb and my teeth grind against each other. The side of my head was pressed hard against the cold slab and the segments of my spine felt as if they were having pleasant meetings with each other.

“Mr. Gladius?” Edward asked warily.

“That’s… Sir, if you don’t mind,” I said breathlessly.

“If you are to become an undead minion, I think it would be better if your bones were all intact.”

I felt the smallest bit of movement of the stone. I took it as a sign of the stone giving way. If I just got it at a different angle, I thought to myself, I would be able to move it the rest of the way.

“It’s on its way,” I huffed back, wiggling my already stiff fingers.

Before I could take the stone up in a forceful hug once more, Nemona wagged her fingers. With hardly a breath in her lungs, she inched it to the side. The stone ground against the floor with a low grating and rumble.

“I see, I see,” I noted, wiping my brow. “That is a magic you have demonstrated before. Well, good teamwork.”

Edward shoved himself between us and marched into the freshly unsealed chamber. The odor inside was even older and dustier.

“Let’s see. Souls of this tomb, I beseech you, come forth from the underworld,” he chanted. “Your audience is requested. Seek out your earthly bodies.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin. A skeleton at the young man’s feet suddenly ambulated, its skull first, followed by a set of long, bony fingers. It spoke, its voice like a wind screaming past your window on the night of a storm.

“I beg you. My husband the king had me buried with him on his passing. Please get me out!”

Edward didn’t move. “Perchance were you the wife of King Swingaxe?”

“No, it was King—“

The necromancer kicked the wailing thrall off him before flashing a few magical signs with his fingers. “Sorry, we’re only looking for one king. It’s too late for you. Back to the underworld with you.”

“Noooo!!“

The skeletal body returned suddenly peace and quiet. I kept my eyes on it nonetheless, stepping over it with the greatest of care.

Nemona shined her magical light about. The tomb was lined with old pots and other crafts, all covered in dust and cobwebs. Upon one of the first long pedestals was an ornate casket, built of what looked to be an old local wood. It too looked decrepit, just as much as any of the other artifacts.

“Must we awaken all of these bodies to determine which of them is the Dragon Slaying King? I don’t see any names,” I said, scanning warily.

“That would be efficient, wouldn’t it?” Edward glanced back with a hopeful look. “But I must admit my powers are too limited in that aspect.”

“Ah, so no undead army raising, then?”

The young man rubbed at the back of his head. “No, raising mass graves is not the hard part. Binding and controlling the multitude of souls and keeping them from turning upon you with undead vengeance is another. And think how bold and rowdy the souls of kings would be.”

He finished the cautionary tale by rapping his fingers on the nearby casket. Nemona clicked her tongue. “This man has connections to the Living King, Edward. Don’t make him put in a bad word about your kind.”

“Whatever.”

“No,” the elf sighed, changing the subject. “We will be able to tell which of the one is our king, I’m sure.”

The tomb continued deeper. I heard the dripping of water somewhere in the distance, punctuated by the low padding of our feet across the cold floor. Any trinkets or baubles still decorating the tomb at that point were buried too deeply in dust, or had simply crumbled into oblivion. Edward stopped suddenly and turned to an open spot in the wall. Nemona pushed past me and dragged her hands across the object.

“This must be him,” Nemona remarked, her word hasty.

I waved the dust from my face and looked upon the object, gashes cut through the dust by the elf’s hands. It was yet another casket, one without any ornamental markings. It was also much larger and longer than any of the other caskets. If I had, curse the thought, laid inside it myself, I would have had ample room.

“King Swingaxe? And this coffin is not an embellishment? Thought, to think it through, a man capable of slaying a dragon must have been…”

“Huge,” Nemona finished. “Bring him to us, Edward. Gladius, help me remove this lid.”

The elf and I pushed back the heavy wooden covering. To say I was expecting a skeleton is a given, but I also imagined seeing gold or jewels, a weapon, or even a crown to show off his kingliness. All that rested upon the desiccated form was a cloth over his loins and a wooden pendant on a necklace of leather that had mostly disintegrated.

The dark magic of the necromancer sucked the remaining warmth from the room. I felt as if the ground were going to sink beneath my feet, into a pit many feet down. “Swingaxe, great King, I call thy name. Find this body that once bound your soul within this mortal realm.”

The massive bones rattled. I struggled to take a breath. I watched the jaw upon the skull fix itself in place as if it were attempting to utter soundless worlds.

“Who’n aen thi?” The deep voice came from deep within the body. It sat up shakily, placing both hands on either side of its casket.

“What now?” I said, split between what I was seeing and what I was hearing.

“Ah crap,” Nemona shuffled her feet anxiously, pushing up between me and the young man. “I forgot all about the linguistic shift all those centuries ago. Let’s see if I can remember my old Recksian. Err, wae aen… magiker. Land ere be oin drago. Dere king sleth drago im tiem. Thinks thi member. Ho’n thi… sleth drago… please?”

I leaned in to whisper to the necromancer. “Do you know what she’s saying?”

“Can’t help you there,” the young man whispered back.

“Drago!” The old king bellowed, the raspy cry finding every inch of the tombs. Dust and rubble trickled from between the bricks of the ancient masonry. “Neen no wegness. Yet oin. Thi cloace. Thi rektum.”

“Recktum?” I spoke up. “Did he say something about the Kingdom?”

“Uh, no…” Nemona said back. “It is…”

Before the elf could say more, the undead fellow began to push himself up from the casket. “Drago!” He bellowed, spitting more words that sounded like war itself.

“Ney, ney, King,” Nemona said something that probably was to calm him, but it did little. “Ed, send him back. Now!”

The young man stepped up and began chanting lowly. “Return thee, spirit! Return to your rest. Go!” With a smack from the base of his palm, the old decrepit king’s skull was sent flying from his body, falling into one of the old dusty corners. The rest of the body crumpled back into the casket.

I took the first breath in what felt like ten minutes. “He seemed upset.”

Nemona patted at the skeleton to make sure it was in place. “I think he got… a little bit excited about the chance to fight another dragon. But as I said, I don’t think it would be wise to invite him along. For more than a few reasons.”

“But he knows how to slay one, then?” I asked hopefully. “The old tales are true? There’s some weak point to take advantage of?”

Nemona took in a long sigh and placed her forehead in her hand. “He did say a thing. But… maybe I got the translation wrong. Cause it didn’t make sense. Or rather… to even consider it is crazy.”

I slapped my hands together, ready to hear anything. “Yeah, well I’ve endured a lot of crazy these last couple of days. Tell me this weakness. Tell me anything.”

“The word I got was… cloaca,” she said, sucking in a breath through her teeth.

“And… that translates to…?”

Edward hummed knowingly. “It is one of our words if I’m not mistaken. It is a word for… well, for example in chickens and other birds… there is a single hole for crapping and egg-laying.”

“For reptiles, it is the same,” Nemona confirmed, knuckles on her mouth. “Scaly-type creatures. Which includes…”

“No,” I stopped the both of them with a shaking of my hands. “A dragon’s weakness is their asshole? No thank you, the Kingdom shall fight this creature like a civilized army. Thank you both for your help, but this may have been a fool’s errand. Not that I consider either of you fools…”

“That only leaves one of us,” Edward quipped.

I snapped my fingers at the young man. “No, no fool would be able to lead an army to face and take down a beast as dangerous as a dragon. Lead us out of here so I may return to this duty.”

<– Previous Chapter | Next Chapter –>