Chapter 6
I followed the blacked robed woman down the narrow street, up a small hill, into a tower and up a winding staircase. Finally we reached an old, musty smelling oak door at the top of the tower. She opened the door and beckoned me inside. My head was racing; I didn't know who she was, what she wanted of me; everything that was familiar and beautiful about my village was gone and was replaced by a frightening grimness. The ghosts in the chamber, the strange chanting of the woman, the looks of fear on the faces of the guards; I was so numb with confusion, that I plodded in after her, like a mindless walking corpse. Oh, how that description seemed so befitting in the years to come!
Inside, the room was dark, with thick curtains over the closed windows. The air was thick with dust, with an almost tangible feeling of sadness in the air. The room itself was just that, a room, with a small table next to an only slightly larger bed in one corner. The only other piece of furniture was a broken chair, its pieces lay scattered in a small radius, the dust already seemed to have collect thickly on their surfaces.
The woman walked softly towards the bed, I followed, equally quiet, and stood beside her. She reached a hand out and patted a blanket covered shape lying on the bed. With a soft rustle, the shape turned towards us.
"Good afternoon, master," I heard my self say, as if from a great distance.
"Good afternoon, Carl," I heard him reply, but his voice seemed like thunder that echoed in my skull. I watched in amazement as his lips would scarcely move, and thunder would shatter my thoughts with his words echoing endlessly in my mind. He quickly told me of what happened in the short time that I was away. The village council had authorized the use of necromancy due to the threat of attack from several powerful warlords. Within months, my master had taught a number of strong wizards to control the magic, who, in turn, taught other wizards, all for the purpose of defending the village, and, ultimately, bringing the country out of chaos. But the balance was upset when the power of the magic started to corrupt some of the more powerful wizards; among them; my brother. The pupil of one of my masters original disciples, he betrayed and murdered his master, under the pretense that he was working for one of the warlords. My brother's reputation as a diligent and trustworthy student made all the other masters accept his story, even though the master he killed was one of the foremost on the village council. My master had just finished with a disciple at the time, and was the only master free. My brother, needing a teacher, did not even have to ask, but was placed under the tutelage of my master, which was what he wanted in the first place. As time went by, my brother grew stronger and stronger, and it became ever more apparent that his ambitions lay beyond the village walls. Realizing too late that they had created a monster, the village elders tried to stop my brother; my brother, prepared for this, met them with a small army of dead that he had acquired. Not only did he assault the village with invisible souls, he also brought with him the decaying bodies of the dead, nameless monsters half-human half-beast, skeletons held together with invisible tendons; all he used to ravish the town. After his first attack, he called out to the villagers to prostrate them-selves if they wanted to be spared. Some obeyed and were spared others ran in panic, but, perhaps needlessly, my brother leveled the town, and in the space of a few months, built it anew; except, this time, not as a peaceful village, but a fortress.
I was appalled by what I heard, by the sheer audacity of it all, but my master had not yet finished speaking. He told me that some villagers had escaped, along with some of his loyal disciples; he told me that they were trying to take the village back or at least save him. My master told me to seek them out and tell them not to attempt anything foolish like that, to instead run away and build up their forces. My mind was still reeling; I nodded mutely. My master reached behind his pillow and took out a leather bound book, thrusting it into my numb fingers. "Go," he said, "lead them away from this accursed place. Nothing good will come from confronting him now." Outside, I could hear the rattle of armor, officers barking orders, and the soft wail of the wind. The woman turned at me, mouthed something vaguely apologetical, then started her silent chant; the next thing I knew, I was rolling down a hill, the tower growing smaller as I rolled away, the walls of my village following suite.
I eventually stopped rolling, but my mind still reeled, whether from the shocks from coming home, or from the concussion I sustained from the fall, I never found out. Everything went black.