Authors: Jonathan J. Drake
Cuthbert paused. He glanced at the battlements before
returning his steady gaze to Olligh. "Simple. You never asked."
"Do you not think I would've found that
information useful?"
"Nonsense, it was a different life we had back
then and now a life long gone. It's completely irrelevant to what we have
now. You need to move on like I've done."
Olligh shrugged. "Move on? Move on to
where?"
"Well, I don't know. Find a nice new world and
settle down with a pox-ridden maiden. I don't really care, nor do I have the
time or patience for these questions."
Olligh eyed the tome Cuthbert held in his hand.
"It seems you have plenty of time on your hands for reading. Out of
curiosity, what exactly is that book? The green leather looks rather familiar,
as does the crest on the front."
Cuthbert stood and frowned, hurling the book to the
ground. It landed at Olligh's feet with a heavy thud. His assumption was
correct; the book was one of his missing tomes. Olligh frowned and returned his
gaze to Cuthbert. "What's this? I came here to apologise to you for
bringing you back from the dead but now I'm not too sure. Tell me the truth
Cuthbert. What involvement do you have in all of this?"
Cuthbert grinned slyly. "Oh, dear Olligh. Now, I
could say you gave me these tomes but that would be a lie. I could also say
you brought me back from the dead but that would also be a lie."
"Enough, explain yourself!"
Cuthbert sighed deeply. "Very well. When you
returned to collect Michael from his world, why didn't you just let the
lumbering creature tear you all apart? It would've made my job so much
easier."
"What? It was you that summoned the beast? What
treachery is this?"
"Don't take it personally, Olligh. With you and
the rest of the Walkers out of the way, the Dark Cloaks would have no hold on
me. Here I have power and control. I don't need people interfering in my
affairs."
"You heartless fiend! You tried to destroy us so
that you could merely live here in peace? Do you not understand that this is
all wrong?"
"Oh, Olligh, don't try my patience. This is all
because of you."
"How's it because of me? You've just admitted
that I never brought you back from the grave."
"Look, you were a good teacher and you taught me
a lot about life... and death... but never enough. We were progressing so well
with our studies. The rats were only a start. We were destined for greater
things but you... you didn't have the nerve to continue and commit yourself to
the work."
Olligh shook his head. "I never intended to work
with humans, Cuthbert. I explained this to you once the dead rats began
vanishing through the cosmos. Why all this resentment?"
"Who'd have thought - a respectable mage like
yourself, frightened by the unknown rather than grasping it firmly with both
hands and learning from it?"
"But, we did in the end. What happened,
Cuthbert? How did you manage to change my mind and convince me to raise a
human from the grave?"
Cuthbert laughed, a mocking and insidious chortle that
riled Olligh. "What happened? You poor, desperate man. I had your wife murdered,
that's what happened."
Olligh staggered closer, trying to make sense of his
words. His knees felt weak and his heart wrenched.
The memory flashed in Olligh's mind. He remembered
Lara stumbling into the entrance hall of his house, her face desperate, her
eyes wide with shock. She clutched her side where blood spewed from a vicious
wound and collapsed to the floor before his very eyes.
"Yes," Cuthbert continued, "and that
was our first attempt at bringing a human back from the dead. A successful
attempt, I might add, especially as the cosmos didn't whisk her to another
world for quite some time."
Olligh glared at Cuthbert, his mind a blur of
thought. Cuthbert remaining standing and folded his arms. "Naturally,
this sated your interest and I managed to convince you to dig up more fresh
corpses to study the effects in more detail. We made a good team until we got
caught and then you foolishly dismissed me and stopped all further study."
"You fiend! You'll pay for this treachery. You
killed Lara!"
"Oh, more than that, dear Olligh. I was forced
to murder you as well. My lackeys stitched you up, literally, and dumped you
in the cemetery for the Dark Cloaks to find. It seemed a rather fitting end
for you at the time."
"But why?" The words blurted from his mouth
without realising.
"It was the only way to obtain your precious
tomes. Rather selfish of you to keep them rather than share their knowledge
with me. Call it a retirement present if it makes you feel any better. Oh, and
I learnt so much from them as well."
"You've ruined my life!" Olligh screamed.
"I'll kill you for this!"
"I'm afraid you're a bit late. I've already
killed and re-animated myself... twice actually. Both attempts were rather
interesting modifications to your stale spell although, I do get rather bloated
from time to time. I suppose it at least keeps the decay from ravaging
me."
"You're sick and twisted!"
"Nonsense, Olligh. Look at the power I now wield.
On a whim I can travel between worlds and everything I desire is within my grasp.
I'm a lich. My life is eternal and I need not rely on anyone to get my own
way. Soon, even the gods will learn to fear me."
Olligh didn't wish to hear any more. Instead, he
concentrated on the cosmos again. He desperately wanted revenge and to see
Cuthbert suffer for all his wrong-doings.
Savor Infagal!
Bursts of blue flame shot out from Olligh's
outstretched palm towards the grinning mage but Cuthbert was prepared. With a
flick of his wrist, a shimmering shield appeared which deflected the bolts with
ease. Olligh cursed and attempted to dispel the shield.
Lortus Toleski!
A white flame of pure energy burst from his hand and
spread towards the shield, dissolving it instantly.
"Impressive," Cuthbert said. "Although,
before continuing, it may be prudent to look behind you."
"Cease your idle chatter and deception!"
Olligh said. "I haven't finished with you just yet."
Cuthbert smirked. "Don't say I didn't warn
you."
Someone grabbed each of Olligh's arms. Turning, he
noticed two of Cuthbert’s skeletal guards had a hold of him. More approached
from the battlements, anxious to aid their master. Olligh struggled to break
free but they held him too tightly.
"Oh, Olligh, you've underestimated me. I've
grown in power so much since becoming a lich. I control each of these
skeletons, their every action bound to me. They're mindless and perfect, just
like you soon will be."
"Don't for one moment presume these skeletons
will be able to hold me for long and, once I've finished with them, you're
next."
"Divine. Simply divine, but I think not."
Cuthbert muttered another incantation and a cloud of
dark green flies materialised from his hand, their buzzing loud and angry. The
swarm hovered for a moment or two before swooping towards their target. Olligh
had never witnessed such a foul spell before. He gasped as they approached,
providing an ideal opportunity for them to invade his mouth. He fell to his
knees, struggling for breath until a green vapour escaped from his nose.
Cuthbert clapped his hands. "There now, do you
feel any better?"
Olligh gazed up at him wearily. His throat felt
swollen and throbbed viciously. He tried to reply but no words escaped his
mouth.
"Isn't this glorious? A beautiful, tranquil
silence, just as it should be. I never asked you to come here, Olligh. This
is your own doing."
Olligh shook his head and glared at Cuthbert, wishing
that looks could kill.
"Don't worry, the effects are only temporary but
it'll allow me some time to recuperate. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day. Once
we've stripped that decaying flesh from you, I'll have a fine new minion
working for me."
Olligh was dragged away by the skeletons but he didn't
resist. Unable to speak the words of power, his knew his attempts would be
futile. He needed to rest and devise a plan to put a stop to Cuthbert. Never
would he have guessed that this unassuming young apprentice would eventually
turn to murder. Nor would he have imagined that his dearly beloved would be
claimed as the first victim. If anything, this riled Olligh the most; the
knowledge that his innocent Lara was tragically murdered purely to satisfy the
greed of another.
Amongst sobbing, his thoughts turned to the potion he
carried in his tunic pocket. If things didn't work out there was at least one
other option but it would only be used as a last resort. The most important
thing was to make Cuthbert pay for his actions and he knew he would do
everything in his power to put an end to the evil lich.
Olligh awoke in a small, dirty cell to the distant sound of chimes.
Scratch marks on the walls, mixed with dried blood appeared to be the main
focal point but this didn't help improve his disposition. Although his throat
was no longer sore, somebody had gagged him with a leather choker preventing
him from reciting any spells. He tried to remove it but it was fastened too
tightly and the clasp behind his head felt locked. For what seemed an age, he
remained sitting, pondering over everything that had occurred. A part of him
wished he'd handled things differently and he felt remorse for dealing with the
Dark Cloaks in such a brutal way. At least he now knew who was to blame for
everything and his conscience was now clear. Ultimately, if Cuthbert hadn't
murdered his wife, he'd most probably still be alive and well with her right
now.
Eventually, two skeletal guards approached the cell. One
of them unlocked the door and swung it open before grabbing Olligh and
escorting him back out to the courtyard. He contemplated trying to escape but
thought it best to conserve his energy for a more appropriate moment. After a
short walk up some stone steps and through a narrow passageway, Olligh was
brought to a halt in the courtyard. More skeletons joined and stood in a
circle around him, each of them carrying a savage looking whip. Cuthbert stood
next to his throne, overlooking events, his face resolute and grim. He wore a
purple ceremonial robe which looked rather luxurious and out of place in the
otherwise bleak, rubble-filled grounds.
"Glad you could make it," he said, watching
Olligh intently. "Don't be overly alarmed by my next few words but, before
I transform you into my minion, it's necessary to remove your foul, pox-ridden
skin."
Olligh stared defiantly at Cuthbert, trying not to
show any fear.
"It's a simple process which basically entails my
skeletons here flailing you with their jagged whips until nothing is left but
your bones and putrid insides. Are you ready for me to begin?"
The skeletons stepped closer to Olligh, some waving their
whips in a menacing manner. There was nothing he could do and no way out, only
pain and suffering to look forward to. He wondered if he deserved this.
Perhaps it was a great punishment from the gods for his tampering with the
dead. If so, then perhaps Cuthbert would also feel their wrath at some
point. He knelt and gazed up at the cloudless sky, preparing to feel the
first lash of a whip ripping into his flesh. Cuthbert laughed out loud.
"I'm going to enjoy this, Olligh. It'll be interesting to be your new
master. I'll of course promise to treat you well and work you hard, just like
you did to me. No hard feelings I hope?"
Olligh noticed the skeleton directly in front of him
raise his club to strike. He looked again. Yes, he wasn't mistaken; it was a
club, not a whip. Gazing at the skeleton's face, he noticed an eye in the
socket. It winked at him. It was Marvin. Olligh was suddenly bursting with
joy. Never had he been so pleased to see anyone since returning back from the
dead.
"Hey, Mister!" someone shouted.
Distracted by the noise, Olligh noticed Michael
running along the empty battlements, hurling stones at Cuthbert. As the
startled mage tried to dodge the flurry of pebbles, Marvin swung his club at
the immobile skeletons, effortlessly smashing them to the ground.
Marvin chuckled as he lopped a skull off from some
shoulder bones. "I have to say, this is much more satisfying than the
circus coconut stall."
Olligh gaped at his friend in absolute shock.
"Quickly, run to the entrance before loopy face
spots us."
Olligh glanced back at the entrance and spotted Hetty
waving at him. He tried to stand but, just at that moment, his leg decided to
go numb. As he shook his leg, Marvin continued to swing his club at the
skeletons. A foul magic possessed them. Each time Marvin struck them they
would attempt to get back up on their feet until they were physically unable to
do so. Meanwhile, from atop the junk pile, Cuthbert noticed the commotion
below. "Nooo!" he yelled. "My minions! You're destroying my
minions. You'll all pay for this."