CHAPTER 3(16)
—MALEWICZ—
I have been stuck in these DAMNABLE CAVES for FAR TOO LONG. All the while? The surface strengthens itself against me, the word of my GREAT battle at the tombs no doubt having spread FAR and WIDE, drawing WARRIOR and knight to come vanquish me. But I would rebuild a new army, yes yes, and they would be GREAT and STRONG, unlike the petty minions of old.
Hmm, but how do I rebuild an army without the tomb? It’s not like I’d just stumb—UNHOLY *CLICK* IS THAT A PILE OF BONES? In front of one of the gateways, there was a pile of bones, yes, bones, of the dead variety. A perfect storm, truly the… ME favors me, yes, gods? Pah, WEAK, they are not here, no no. I am here.
There are no caskets to stop me from my dark magics now, I will raise a new army, and then… I will take it to the surface! And…
.
Hmm…
.
I will create a new country yes… MALEWICZNIA!
Yes, a good name. I do say so myself.
—???—
The caves beneath the duchy hold many refugees, and a surprising level of liveable land, though those of the surface know not of it. The great gateways towards the top were built by the Privkans(ancestors of the modern Pravkans), who were fleeing the dark reign of Hesmir, and indeed know not of his falling. To them, the war has continued eternal, fighting off swarms of dead until finally constructing great gates to stop them, held back by simple puzzles, such that the living might pass. There are, of course, more complicated measures deeper within, in case Hesmir himself ever came below, but they have increasingly gone unmaintained and unmanned, with ever greater soldiers devoted to keeping the threats from below from coming up.
Threats such as the Prseski(ancestors of the modern Privkans), who were forced underground by the rise of the church, and the Prski(ancestors of the modern Prseski), forced beneath by a horrendously bloody spat over cheese.
—BRASKIE—
Our noble people, the Privkans, are nothing like the animalistic Prseski beneath us. They know not of the Church, nor the Gods’ light. We drove them below, but they have continued even now to raid us for food and supplies. But we persist, that we might one day hear word from the surface of the fall of Hesmir, but in truth, we have given up hope. We are likely all that remains of humanity, hidden behind our deep doors, it seems that even Hesmir has forgotten us. Now we fight with savages from beneath, foul worshippers of old gods who demand a blood price.
I pray that our people can survive, but that prayer, I know, will be answered only by steel and bloodshed. The Prseski beneath know no fear, and have degenerated into beasts that do not even qualify as human anymore.
—BRACEZYKIE—
We have lived in the caves for generations now. Long ago, we had fled the great evil of the evil god ‘Church’, who sought to end the ways that we had practiced for generations. Though the surface world was lost, we found a new home deep below the surface. That is, until the Privkans came, followers of that evil god, and pushed us deeper within. And we had to fight the Prski for our new home, deeper still below the surface.
Our people, the Prseski, are prepared to defend our homes to the death, if need be, from the hated Privkan menace. And may the Gods save us from the dark Prski below…
—BRCZYKIEWZCNI—
Markiedrow, zelisawkozwy DIONIZ satsa. Prski snic mieszkracyn akslitsalawa, krawnajmniej wlasciwos wsk naniektze.
Gawe witwiczza, Privkan??? HAH, Prski zygmunt zbenkula. Przi, stawowy? Gzeds…
—BRCZYKIEWZCNIKOWITZELAWOFKINŁIWOSKI III—
PZZ? HA! *unintelligible*
—MALEWICZ—
The bones before me are not the ordered skeletons of the family tomb, they are scattered and incomplete. Large, and small, disordered. A lesser Lich might have wondered what to do, but to an Arch-Arch-Lich like myself, the answer is clear. I will reanimate… THEM ALL! Yes yes, a horrifying creature of GREAT proportions. I reached out to the magics around me, imbuing them with my will, to create my GREAT creation. And I spoke! Yes, I spoke! For it was necessary to name such a creature, and as such I spoke!
“You shall be… BONEWICZ! In HONOR OF… ME!”
—???—
Loose and mismatched bones are practically impossible to animate. Without a sense of kin, the soul will struggle to create its muscles out of memory, lacking the knowledge of the bones making up its new form. It will instead often simply cause a failure. In such a case, a necromancer might think to work beyond the concept of a skeleton and to create a bone horror, something that no longer clings to the shape of man, and indeed goes past it. But such a thing is difficult, requiring precise knowledge of what muscles must be where, and indeed often requires stitching together the bones to create a predetermined shape. Not to mention elaborate sketches of muscle systems and thought into how the creature should and would move itself. No, it is often simpler to find something large, kill it, and use its bones to form a servant.
But Malewicz, as usual, knows not of the impossibility of the task, and, indeed, to Malewicz’s benefit, the bone pile had once been a Bone Horror, in service of some long-forgotten Lich, left to wander into a trap and be destroyed by holy water. The bones though, remember how they were assembled, and so too does the magic. And so it was that the bones picked themselves up and restitched themselves back together. In a form that quite strikingly resembled a crab, if a crab made of the bones of untold numbers of men.
—BOLESLAW—
Ever since Dionyzni had lied to me about what happened in the tomb, things had been getting increasingly worse. All of my classes except for combat had been canceled, and the Knights had fully defected to the Naswisko. Hjorl had called me to his office, probably to send me off before it got worse. It left a bitter taste in my mouth. I could do so much more, I know how to swing a sword… even if… discretion had proved the better part of valor in the tombs. Shaking my head and straightening my tunic, I entered into Hjorl’s office.
“Ah, Boleslaw, come sit.” Hjorl beckoned me further in with his arms, and I went to sit in front of Hjorl’s desk. “Listen, boy, there’s no need for you to die in this mess. I want you to head East, to Yurzecin.” Again with this, to rob me of glory and send me off, all because I was too young.
“I can fight sir.”
“Of course you can. Even a whore can fight.” Hjorl shifted, looking me up and down, “...but you can die too. Still, you won’t be doing nothing, Yurzecin is owned by Budyenov’s father. I want you to send word when you see his army mobilizing, though it shouldn’t be for another few months now.”
Finally, something important to do… and if I’ll have to send word anyway, I might as well send it myself, after all, no reason to let a courier get the glory for it. Then I can join the fight.
“Yes sir, I can do that.”
Hjorl stood up, patting my shoulders. “Good! A man should be decisive. I’ll arrange you some fine traveling clothes, they should help you settle in.”
—KOMPETNY NEKRZITSKA—
I have practiced for untold years for this ritual, this one final moment to end my mortality. The time spent carving delicate lines into the stone floor, prepping the proper sacrifices, and indeed even accruing the proper ritual ingredients has reached into decades, sapping at my already withering body and remaining life. But at last, I have gathered what is necessary and completed the work.
Today, I would ascend, and become a Lich. The Mowysmierica I had in possession assured me of it. And it was no fool's copy, but a true original. It was even signed in the corner by Hesmir himself! Yes, a true relic of the Dark God. It would look rather nice in my shrine to the Dark God Hesmir, and it would add a degree of authenticity to the rest of my collection.
Yes, my collection. I had in my possession the largest collection of relics of the great Arch-Lich in existence. I had his boots, his staff, and yes, even his 24th baby tooth!
Ah, how was it acquired? Many a neophyte was sacrificed in the daring raid on the neighboring cult of the depths of Swyznikyn. The heretics did not accept the truth of Hesmir’s ascension to Godhood, instead believing him to have simply fallen in battle. Hah!
As if an Arch-Lich could be defeated in battle by mere mortals.
“Lord Nekrzitska! A Lich has arrived!” I spun around, looking to the door of my sanctum.
“A Lich? A true Lich?”
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
“Yes Lord, and he brings with him a great Bone Horror, as Hesmir was said to have made!”
A Bone Horror? Such a beast…to be capable of raising it, they must have been taught directly by Hesmir! It could even be… another Arch-Lich? Hesmir surely favors me, to send an emissary at this most important hour!
—MALEWICZ—
They immediately began to WORSHIP me. YES. They took me to their leader.
"Great Lich, may I have the honor of knowing your name?"
*CLAAAAAAAACK*...
The leader looked at me strangely. I had forgotten that I could not speak. Or wait, I could! YES!
“I AM MALEWICZ!” I declared to the leader, and he brought me to a dark magic ritual site!
He brought me around the ritual site he had prepared… no no no, this is all WRONG. Where is the House? The HAPPY LITTLE TREES? "You must RESTART. It is all WRONG." I told the petty 'leader'.
"Lord Lich? But I followed the texts exac—"
"SILENCE!" I interrupted the little neophyte. "Your ritual lines lack the proper shape, yes, shape… and color! You forget the most basic principles! To not color within the lines… Oh no no no. NOT GOOD!”
“Dear Great Lich, how could I fix it?” The weak little boy… well, he is somewhat old, the WEAK little MAN! He… hmm… how could he fix it again? Something or another. I had not forgotten, NO, it had simply…
.
.
.
I would have to FOOL him! Yes…
“Yes, Yes!” The weakling gave me a strange look… HE HAS BEEN mesmerized by my GRANDEUR. “Yes, it is the case, yes.” I stroked my boney chin, adding to my grand illusion.
“So you will help me fix it? Thank you, Lord Lich!” I will… WHAT? HAH! Now the magicians turn to ME for aid??? I shall yes, help them, and he WILL BE THE FIRST SCION.
“Yes! You must redraw the ritual! You need to draw it like this!”
—???—
Malevich then took to resculpting the perfectly organized and constructed ritual lines. He butchered them in such a way as to make all who practice magic groan in anger. However, so great was the devotion of one Kompetny Nekrzitska, so grand his loyalty to Lichs, that he saw the… happy little house, and pretty little trees… and he realized that his loyalty and devotion was entirely misplaced.
—KOMPETNY NEKRZITSKA—
I… this Lich, is it… a child perhaps? No, the bones are too old for that. Then it is simply this daft? It has turned my masterpiece, my magnum opus into a children’s drawing? What matter of prank is this?
“My Lord Lich you…” I could not bring myself to say anything. Despite his lunacy, this Lich still owned a bone horror. He was not to be trifled with, I would have to play it off.
“YES! You are to thank me now. The ritual circle is COMPLETE!”
“Ah, yes well, you see…”
“NO! There is no seeing, yes, I will BEGIN THE RITUAL!”
“Wai—”
All at once I felt a horrible bend within my soul, and then I felt nothing at all.
—???—
And thus it was that Kompetny Nekrzitska, a horrifying and dreadful man, whose hunger and lust for power had cost the lives of thousands, came to die. His soul stretched into billions of pieces all at once, stretched to such a degree that no rational thought could ever commence. But so too was Malewicz’s belief so great in his ability, that the spell did truly lock the soul of Kompetny out of the cycle, forever dooming him to this nothingness, trapped in the Dyeusbaga, the void. Still, perhaps this was a blessing, to spare the man from an eternity in the mess that had become the afterlife.
—BOLESLAW—
Things had not gone well from the start. I had discovered that some rats had eaten a hole in my tent. I couldn’t go back, as that would bring too much shame to my name, so I was stuck getting soaked every night. And now? Well, I was in a bit of a rough one.
“Oi’nk! Geddoi’nkere!” A small, chłopświne chased after me. The little pig man would’ve been no problem, however, following him was a horde of 7 more. Well, a gang of them at least.
A rock zoomed past my head. How in the hecks were they so fast, anyway? I looked behind me to see another of them readying a rock to throw at me when it got struck with a bolt of fire, releasing a pleasant smell of cooked meat into the air. I suddenly remembered Semyon telling me they were ‘finer than a sister’s arse’ when cooked… though Dionyzni had been quick to point out it was forbidden to eat them… amongst other things that were pointed out that day to poor Semyon.
I shook my head, and stopped, pulling out my sword. Now that help had arrived, I couldn’t look too weak. But before I could even start to charge, the chłopśwines were all dead.
“Hah, you’re lucky, 8 of them is a challenge for a single swordsman,” A tall black-haired man, atop a blue roan, sheathed a bloody sword over the massacred… delicious smelling chłopśwines.
“Ah, yes, thank you, sir,” I sheathed my sword as well.
“Lord, do we have time to waste here? On this peasant?” Another rider caught up with the black-haired one and began to glare at me.
“It is fine, Yurzecin can wait, besides, the boy is armed, and garbed with fine clothing, he is hardly a peasant,” The black-haired man said, dismounting his horse.
Yurzecin? This was an opportunity. They probably had a tent without holes, at least.
“Yurzecin? My fellow, might I travel with your party? I am also heading to the city.” I greeted him with a proper greeting, one customary amongst the nobility. It would help to be seen as a noble, and after all, I was just furthering their misunderstandings. No lies on my part. Dionyzni would be proud. Probably.
Maybe.
“Ah, see Raugir?” The man, a lord, clearly gestured to the other knight, “My fellow, I’d be honored to escort you to Yurzecin, might I ask about your business in the city?” Nazwisko greeted me in kind.
But what to say? I couldn’t exactly say I was there to spy on Budyenov’s family. But still… to lie, what would Dionynzi say? Still, I had to value my life here, and the lives of Hjorl and the rest. Forgive me, Gods.
“Ah, I am… here to ask something of the Lord,” Perhaps this Nazwisko would have connections?
“Ah, you are in luck my fellow, I am Budyenov, the son of House-Lord Nazwisko,” He gave me a hawkish grin as he said this. “What business might you have with my father? Perhaps to ask to join us in our war on that damn whore’s son Huscarl?”
Ah.
.
.
.
So things had not gotten better, it seemed I was still in a bit of a rough one.
—DIONYZNI—
I have no idea what has happened here anymore. I thought I was onto something, but now? A full cathedral of monks and paladins, and nothing, nowhere closer to figuring out anything that took place here. The peaceful undead? Nothing. It was in the nature of all dead to hate the living, who they blamed for their lack of ascension. Only a Lich… no, an Arch-Lich, could command the dead so well as to cease that hatred. But why would they? What could possibly motivate a Lich to do so?
And then there was the ritual site… or the area in which some child was let play with blood and guts. A house, a loving family, and some trees carved into the floor? Flooded with blood and all matter of entrails. What manner of ritual could this even be? I thought it a deliberate effort to obscure, but scries revealed it to be the original ritual, magic does not easily forget.
“Dionyzni, I understand your confusion, but I truly believe this to be a case of someone, possibly that Crewsovich boy, going insane in a tomb, and accidentally resurrecting those deads.” And then there was Paladin Sylwia, sent by the Church to aid. She was entirely convinced that it was nothing more than that, some great cosmic accident.
“That isn’t possible, you know as well as I that bodies don’t rise like that, and they certainly wouldn’t sit there and let themselves be put to rest! Not to mention the lack of souls!”
“Hah, you really believe that? Face it Dionyzni, the souls were just transient, probably lured in from the Dyeusbaga,”
“That’s foolish Sylwia! Any soul from the Dyeusbaga would be even more resentful of the living!” I felt myself growing frustrated, my faith alone holding me back from a worse outburst.
“Hah, then explain how this all happened, if you’re so wise on the afterlife, my fellow paladin,”
“I… I don’t know. But that does not mean that we should just take any easy explanation! Besides, one got away, that could only have been a Lich,” But even saying this, I knew no Lich would’ve ever done anything involved in this case. To speak of those who hate the living, those willing to leave humanity on their own are certainly at the forefront. Why would such a being command his undead to not fight back, and why would one flee from mere huscarls?
“You know better Dionyzni, face it, it’s time to end this.” Sylwia crossed her arms, furrowing her brow in frustration, “Besides, the Church is clear on this, it wants to wrap this up as fast as possible, these monks and I have been away from our postings for far too long,”
“I see. If that is the will of the church then so be it. I will still be here to investigate. I can only pray that it is truly as you say, however unlikely it might be.” It was pointless, I couldn’t convince her to stay, it would mean excommunication for the both of us, if not worse.
“Then I shall see you again, this side or the next, Dionyzni,” Sylwia, eased up at my withdrawal, and said her goodbyes.
“And to you the same, sister,” It seems that come what may, I would face any challenges to the duchy alone. May the Gods help me through it, and at least spare the people of the town…
.
.
.
Well, at least the good ones, that Semyon is probably due to descend to the hells at any point.