Overlord Rising - Chapter 7 Waking The Guards

Spring arrived a little early in the kingdom of Grandstark. Flowers bloomed in threes, as a few majestic petals drifted along the wind, carrying a sweet aroma that calmed the senses. Although a great time to just sit back and enjoy the weather, not everyone took a moment for leisure.

Down at the courtyard, a number of squires swung their swords in the air, practicing their technique and grip. They grunted and shouted aloud with each swing, allowing air to breathe almost immediately.

“Again!” Uriel commanded, marching back and forth, while inspecting the young men.

A few knights watching nearby quickly noticed common errors in their squires’ movements, as well as their lacking strength. They couldn’t help but chuckle at these young men, as it also reminded them of a time when they themselves struggled during training.

“We’re not going to stop, until you get it right!” Uriel yelled, smacking a wooden sword on the ground. “Now, do it again!”

“Quite the taskmaster, aren’t you?” an old man laughed, as he approached.

Uriel turned and met an old knight. “Sir Gerald,” she addressed, before giving a respectable bow. “I can’t permit slacking. If they ever want to be knighted, then they ought to at least know how to swing a sword.”

Gerald snorted jovially, almost like a doting grandparent. “Still, I’m quite surprised that they gave you this responsibility,” he remarked. “They often choose the older knights to handle these spring chickens.”

“I believe being a former mercenary has something to do with it,” Uriel answered. “Most of these brats come from noble families. It must be frustrating for them to take orders from a commoner, so they’re going to give it everything, just to prove that they’re better than me.”

“I see your reasoning,” Gerald replied with a nod. “Well, I guess you are then one of the better choices for this then.”

“It’s not anything that I can just refuse,” Uriel sighed with a shrug, looking back at the squires. “So, is there anything that you needed of me, Sir Gerald?”

“Hmm? Oh yes,” Gerald grunted, pulling his pants up. “I was wondering why couldn’t you rescue me?”

“Excuse me?” Uriel asked.

Turning around, Uriel found Gerald as a pale and mangled corpse. Blood dropped from his hollow eyes, as maggots and worms squirmed from his skin. Dents and rust battered his once glorious red armor, reducing it to nothing more than scrap.

“Why did you have to kill me?” Gerald wheezed painfully, as he reached out.

Uriel took a few steps back with a tight breath. As she did, she found herself bumping into someone. Behind her, another familiar corpse stood.

“Why couldn’t you save me?” the corpse asked with much anguish.

“Why couldn’t you save any of us?” several other voices asked. “Why did you allow us all to die in Ebonus?”

Uriel looked around and found herself standing in a ruined courtyard, surrounded by a number of familiar men and women she had met in her life. They all groaned and moaned, as they sluggishly trudged forward to grab her.

“I-it’s not my fault!” Uriel stammered, trying to find a way out. “The monsters were just too much for us!”

“You allowed us to die!” they screeched, drawing closer.

Hands suddenly reached out and grabbed her. They threw her into the ground, slowly burying her under a mass of rotting flesh. They grunted and groaned painfully, continuing to pile upon her.

Uriel did not scream or cry. She simply stared with one hand desperately reaching out to the sky. Her eyes gaped wide, as darkness started to take hold of her. Everything slowly turned black, as the air in her lungs started diminish.

Gathering whatever strength her consciousness could muster, Uriel pulled herself out of the darkness and gave a deep gasp.

Looking around, Uriel found herself in a bedroom, sitting in front of a warm fire. Beads of cold sweat ran down her face, as her heart pounded rapidly against her chest. It was all just a nightmare. She was not back in Grandstark, but still in the citadel of Nul Hunur. A part of her felt relieved to have woken up, while another part of her seemed disappointed that she was not back home.

Rushing to a nearby table, Uriel took a jug of water and splashed her face. Her nerves still quivered, but it did calm her to some degree. At the very least, Uriel found herself breathing more smoothly.

Two days had passed since she killed Sir Gerald, but many years had passed since she had a nightmare like that. Apart from Gerald, she remembered every one of those faces that had haunted her, as well as their names.

Mycelia’s words lingered in Uriel’s head. Hundreds of warriors had fallen into madness, similar to Sir Gerald. Uriel didn’t want to believe it, but she knew it to be all too true.

“Jason Marcus Kahn,” Uriel softly recited.

These few names belonged to a long list of men who travelled alongside her in Ebonus. Most of them had died in the dark realm, while others returned to their homes, only to be never heard of again. Their experiences had traumatized them into isolation.

This happened not only to her companions, but to many others who dared to venture into this mysterious land. Having ventured through it on occasion, Uriel knew just how cruel Ebonus could be. Those unprepared would be greatly punished, and the weak would be destroyed without remorse.

As Uriel continued to linger in thought, the windows suddenly slammed inside. Cold wind rushed in; blowing the tattered curtains. Thunder crashed and lightning roared. Rain savagely poured against the citadel, like an endless volley of arrows.

Rough weather, but Uriel went through worse. The storm reminded her of a past adventure. She and a group ventured into Ebonus and were caught in the middle of a storm. Water quickly rose up to their waists, and leeches were trying to catch a ride. However, the worst part was the horde of goblins that threw stones and arrows at them. Two got killed from the attack, and one later died from a fever.

The adventure then reminded her of another, then another, and another. Uriel’s memory cycled through almost every quest that she had undertaken. The details were clear in her head. She remembered everything, as if they happened moments ago. Not all were bad, but most shared one cruel detail.

At least three people would die in these quests. It was a fact that a number of people would never return, after stepping into the mysterious realm. Uriel didn’t like it. She didn’t have to like it. It was a statistic forced down her throat.

Suddenly, Uriel heard three knocks on the door. It made her jump a little. “My lady, may I come in?” the elf asked.

Uriel didn’t answer immediately. She took a moment to calm herself and fix her face. “Enter,” she eventually responded.

The door creaked open. Mycelia stepped inside. She opened her mouth to speak, but paused for a second. She noticed Uriel’s drenched face, as well as some of the water dripping on the floor. “Is something the matter, my lady?” she asked.

“No, of course not,” Uriel replied, shaking her head. “Is there something I can do for you?”

Mycelia cleared her throat. “My lady,” the sorceress began. “In light of our recent attack, I believe it would be best if I placed a few guards around the citadel.”

“I suppose that would be wise,” Uriel shrugged. “Will you request some soldiers from your people?”

Mycelia shook her head. “They won’t help us, not any more at least,” she replied. “No, I actually have something else in mind. However, I will need your cooperation.”

Uriel leaned forward, displaying some interest. “And what do you need me to do?” she asked.

“I think it would be better, if I showed you,” Mycelia replied. She stepped aside and raised her hand to the door.

Raising a suspicious brow over her eye, Uriel stood up and followed.

Mycelia led Uriel through one of the many confusing hallways that stretched around the citadel. Droplets of water creaked through the walls’ gaps and cracks. Puddles started forming in some of the hallways. A hundred buckets would have not remedied the problem.

Pieces of death decorated this hallway. A few skeletons lay on the ground, still donning their equipment and swords. Judging by the size of their bones, these must have been goblins once.

However, what truly caught Uriel’s eyes was the towering figure of metal that sat against the wall. From a distance, it appeared like a large suit of armor.

Several sharp teeth filled its mouth, but lacked lips to hide them. Large sockets gaped in its face, but there were no eyes to fill them. The creature had long fingers, with tips that could have pierced holes through would in a single blow. The creature also lacked ears, a nose, and the organ to represent a gender. In its hand was a halberd, long enough to strike from a short distance.

Uriel cringed. A sort of monster knelt before her. Few things actually scared her, but this creature managed to make her sweat and tremble. Even if it did not do anything, this thing still brought Uriel some hesitation and concern. Stirring this creature would have been most unwise

“What is this?” Uriel asked. Her eyes measured the figure. She gulped upon realizing that it stood about seven feet.

“A golem, my lady; a steel golem” Mycelia answered. She knelt and touched the golem’s hand. Her lips curled into a soft smile. She appeared like a mother gazing at her newborn infant. “This but one of the few I have found around the citadel.”

Uriel jerked. “There are others?” she asked. The very thought sent shivers down her spine.

“Five actually,” Mycelia replied. “I wish to bring all of them to life, so that they may help me better protect this place.”

“This was not what I expected,” Uriel remarked, crossing her arms. “What about your kin? Do they have absolutely no desire to assist us?”

A soft chuckle escaped Mycelia’s lips. “They were, at first,” she said. “When I first arrived, twenty soldiers were left to assist me. Sadly, they are no longer around.”

The atmosphere turned a little sour. For a moment, Uriel cast aside her worry. “My condolences,” she apologized, while looking another way.

Mycelia did not respond to Uriel’s sympathy. “With a group of golems under our control, the citadel would be under stronger protection,” she said. “They can also help me gather food and water.”

Those seemed like excellent points. However, there was the concern that the golems could turn on them. Even if her regular strength had returned to her, Uriel believed that she would have suffered grave injuries, if she faced the golems.

“Is it possible for the golem to turn rogue?” she asked.

“None,” Mycelia answered. “Golems are completely loyal to their masters. Lacking spirit and self-awareness, they can never turn on those who give them life.”

Mycelia said this, but Uriel was not entirely convinced. Dark-Elves were difficult to trust, especially since they themselves never trusted anyone. If Mycelia were a stranger, or even a mere acquaintance, Uriel would have analyzed her intentions with a few more questions. However, Mycelia proved to be an ally in the past few days. Uriel was not prepared to give everything, but was willing to lend some degree of trust.

“If it is my permission you seek, then you have it,” Uriel sighed in defeat.

“I actually would like something a little more than just your permission,” Mycelia replied. “Golems are brought to life, through various ways. One such method is to fill them with magic”

“You wish me to use my so-called power as the Overlord to bring it to life,” Uriel assumed.

Mycelia confirmed with a nod.

“Why do you need my power?” Uriel then asked. “And why haven’t you awakened these things before?”

“I have tried, but they do not respond,” Mycelia replied. “However, I am curious to see if your power would yield better results.”

Again, doubt and suspicion etched at the back of her head. Brining the creature to life was one thing, but fueling it with her power was another. It could have been strong; too strong. However, she already made it this far. Uriel chose not to retract her decision.

“What must I do?” she asked.

“It is quite simple really,” Mycelia said. “Place your hand on the golem’s head, and use your thoughts to command your power to leave your body.”

“It is that simple?” The explanation was surprisingly brief. “Shouldn’t there be a spell for me to recite, hand gestures to make, or even symbols to write?”

A small smile crossed Mycelia’s face. A chuckle almost escaped her lips. “My lady, you are only channeling your power,” she said. “It is the most basic skills for anyone gifted with magic. It is indeed that simple.”

Uriel examined her fingers. Simplicity was a word she did not associate with magic. However, that didn’t mean she was not open to the idea. She reached out and touched the golem’s head. She felt a shallow dent on the cranium. Either the metal was poorly made, or it bumped against a rock.

She sucked the air through her nostrils. It remained trapped in her chest for a few seconds, before finally leaving through her mouth. Closing her eyes, she focused her mind, and wordlessly commanded the magic to flow through her.

Before another thought entered her mind, Uriel felt a powerful force tug from her body. Her eyes dashed open. Energy flowed straight from her chest, and poured into her hand. Magic flowed from the palm of her hand, in the form of red light. A buzzing noise filled the room. It sounded as if they were surrounded by a swarm of bees. Waves of static surged from her fingertips and vibrated throughout the golem’s body.

Uriel gritted her teeth and held her breath, as she fed the golem her power. She continued to do so, until Mycelia finally gave her the word to stop. “That should be enough, my lady!”

Upon hearing these words, Uriel retracted her hand. The red light faded, and buzzing stopped. Steam lifted from her hand, while her veins bulged under her skin; fattened with blood. The sole of her palm looked as if it had just been burnt. Despite this, Uriel felt no pain. There was some discomfort, but nothing that called for her attention.

Uriel stood up and inspected her work. Nothing. No change was noticed, except for a small hiss of smoke around the golem’s head.

“Perhaps I should try again,” Uriel suggested.

“Wait, my lady,” Mycelia said. She extended her arm, and placed Uriel behind her.

A finger moved. A clink was heard, followed by a few others. An orchestra clanking metal began to play before them. Two red dots began to glow deep within the sockets. Slowly, the golem stood on its two feet. The metal creature easily overshadowed the two women.

The golem gazed at both Uriel and Mycelia. Perhaps it was the shape of its sockets, or the dead expression plastered on its face, but it did not look too glad to be awake.

Uriel gulped. Instinct drove her fingers to reach for the handle of her sword. A mixed rush of excitement and fear filled her heart. A part of her trembled at the sight of the creature looking down at her, while another part gleamed with awe and amazement at what she had just done.

Soon, the golem opened its mouth. “I am yours to command,” it bowed its head, and spoke in a deep voice, which sounded like an echo from the crypt.

“You’ve done it, my lady,” Mycelia smiled. A spark glittered behind her mask.

She approached the golem without fear, and placed her hand on its cheek. It did not react. It merely stood there like a living statue. Sounds clicked behind the metal plates, but not a single breath escaped its mouth. It stood and huffed, but it was difficult pronounce it alive.

“I see,” Uriel almost laughed with relief. Her hand released from her sword. “Well, at least this citadel won’t feel as empty.”

“It will feel less empty, once we’ve awaken the remaining five,” Mycelia smirked. Words materialized in her head. Without realizing it, she whispered.

“It is actually happening”