The Necroshine Read online



  Though the forest was dense, the sunlight still managed to find its way through, lighting the way for Alvilda. The forest was old and most of the trees that surrounded her towered ever upward seeming never to end. Their large branches, like arms, were out stretched reaching high into the sky. The tops of the great old trees swayed ever so gently in the breeze, creating a whispering sound making it as if the trees themselves were in the midst of some kind of deep secret conversation.

  It had been three days since Alvilda entered the forest heading west for the foot hills and a village named Biddle Grove that lay beyond. The route she traveled was clearly not the fastest way to the village, or the safest. There were plenty of roads that would have cut her traveling time in half, but the forest and all of its mysteries that were hidden within beckoned to her. Being of Elvish descent makes ignoring the whisperings of the forest a hard thing to do.

  There had been little rest during the three day trek and she could begin to feel it taking its toll. Alvilda strolled slowly through the trees trying to conserve what little energy she had left. She wore a black cloak with the hood up to conceal her long red hair. From a distance she looked like a wraith, damned to wander the forest for eternity. This is most likely why she hadn’t encountered any trouble thus far.

  In the late afternoon of the third day, Alvilda reached a small rocky outcrop that stood on the outskirts of what looked to be a rundown village. Most of the old structures were sod huts, but there were a few made from wood as well. She surveyed the old huts from the shadows of the forest, not wanting to give her position away. If the hut dwellers were still around, it would be wise for Alvilda to see them first before they saw her.

  She let several minutes pass and after not seeing anyone, decided the village must be empty. As she stepped into the clearing she began to feel a small throbbing in her head. Quite familiar with this feeling, Alvilda knew that Gothorm, the necromancer she had trapped within herself, was beginning to stir.

  Imprisoning Gothorm’s soul within her was the only way to stop him and his reign of terror. It was a terrible thing to have a necromancer soul fused together with your own, but it was a sacrifice Alvilda was willing to make. The downside to this imprisonment was that it was only a temporary fix and Gothorm was quite aware of it.

  The necromancer knew that Alvilda’s death would set him free. He wanted nothing more than to torment her mind and cause her death, but Alvilda’s will was too strong. It would have been easy for Gothorm to do this to any other sorceress, but Alvilda being half elf, was more powerful than most. So for the time being he was trapped.

  “What’s wrong my dear? You seem worried about something.” Gothorm taunted from somewhere inside Alvilda’s head.

  Alvilda ignored Gothorm and held her hands out in front of her. With a flick of the wrist she became invisible, an old trick but a highly effective one. She made her way to the huts and peeked inside for signs of any dwellers having no fear of being seen.

  It was strange, most of the huts that she explored still contained the belongings of the dwellers. There was kitchenware still hanging in their places, clothes left in open drawers, and even some of the tables had plates with half eaten food on them. It was like the whole community just up and vanished some time ago.

  She continued along the path that wove around the huts until she came to the final structure. This hut was different. It looked like the dwellers somehow tunneled their way into the side of a rocky hill. There was a set of double doors that looked to be smashed in. Alvilda approached cautiously and entered the hut.

  Inside was dark and very hard to see. Alvilda reached into her cloak and retrieved a clear round sphere. The object was small and fit into the palm of her hand. Alvilda raised the glass ball to her lips and spoke an ancient incantation. Upon finishing her words the sphere illuminated, lighting up the room, revealing that the hut consisted of one big room. It was filled with beds, tables, and a kitchen of some sort. All of the furniture was smashed and thrown about, and as she made her way to the back of the large room Alvilda found what was left of the dwellers.

  The bones of the dwellers where clumped up into small piles all over the place and the wooden floor was stained with dried blood. Alvilda bent down to examine the bones and found large teeth marks on most of them.

  “By the Gods, what could have done this to them?” Alvilda asked aloud, not expecting an answer.

  “Lycanthrope, perhaps.” Gothorm replied with interest.

  “A single werewolf slaughtering an entire village? I don’t find that very likely.” Alvilda said.

  “No, not one. More like a pack of them.” He said.

  Alvilda decided that she had seen enough and slowly made her way back outside. After putting the sphere back into her cloak she looked back at the smashed double doors, and thought about how terrifying it must have been for them. How the whole village retreated here for safety just to be slaughtered.

  “I’m sure they saved the children for last, savoring that sweet tender meat.” Gothorm taunted.

  “Quiet yourself, demon!” Alvilda snapped.

  “But it’s true. I’m sure they enjoyed the screams almost as much as eating them.”

  “I SAID….” Alvilda began to yell but was cut off as Gothorm made a move to seize control of her.

  The intense pain that filled Alvilda’s head made her drop to her knees and clasped her hands to the side of her head. The invisibility spell she had cast was undone by the struggle. With all her will she managed to push Gothorm back and keep him from taking over.

  When the struggle was over she waited a moment to be sure he was done fighting. He was. She could sense that fight had taken whatever energy he had out of him.

  “Damn you.” Alvilda whispered. Gothorm did not reply.

  *

  A mile and a half on the other side of the village, Alvilda reached a clearing that overlooked a valley. She could see for miles from this vantage point, and knew that the village she was set on reaching was just beyond. Another two days and she’d be there, but first was the climb down and that could wait for tomorrow.

  The sun was setting and she did not want to get caught in the dark while she made the descent. So, camp was made along the tree line of the clearing. She made a fire, ate what little food she had, and laid back to watch the sun sink into the horizon. It wasn’t long before Alvilda drifted into a deep sleep.

  *

  Gothorm waited for Alvilda to fall into the deepest part of sleep before he came forward. He did not have to wait long. The struggle for control the two fought with earlier was just part of his plan. The necromancer knew the fight would exhaust the rest of her energy forcing her to let her guard down, and he was right.

  He sent her deep into a dream of a battle she had fought long ago. The battle and a warrior named Endre had been on her mind a lot as she traveled through the forest. He felt that it was a safe bet that the dream would keep her busy while he worked. Once Gothorm felt safe enough to come forward and take control, he did just that.

  Alvilda’s eyes snapped open, but they were no longer the stunning green they should be. Her eyes were now as black as coal, because it was Gothorm that was in control. He sat her up and peered around.

  The full moon was bright and lit up the valley below. He smiled at this in hopes that the full moon would bring out the worst in the world. Gothorm prayed to Loki and pleaded with him for help. When he was finished he let out a fierce howl that could be heard for miles away, hoping anything that served Loki would come to his aid.

  *

  Alvilda stood under the hot sun gripping her sword tight. She was covered in blood, none of which was her own. Th
e battle raged on all around her as she prepared to take on four barbarians that were rushing toward her. She cut through them with minimal effort. It did not feel good to relive this battle, even if it was a dream, she hated to be reminded of all they lost that day.

  Avilda began to fight her way toward Endre, one of her only friends left alive on the battlefield. What started as six companions was now down to two. They had promised to help a small village from being invaded by a barbarian hoard and it had cost them four of their friends’ lives.

  Endre’s back was facing Alvilda and he was in a fierce fight with the barbarian king himself. His long dark hair had been pulled back and braided to keep it out of his eyes and some of his armor was missing, but Endre fought on. With any luck, Alvilda could get to him and help him kill the king and end this battle.

  Before she could make it to Endre, Alvilda was surrounded by eight barbarian soldiers. She quickly raised her left fist to the air and then brought it down to the ground, punching the blood stained grass sending a shock wave out, knocking the eight men to the ground. Alvilda then used her magic to cast down lightning killing all eight men simultaneously. When she stood back up and turned toward Endre, the fight was over.

  Endre had defeated the barbarian king and was holding his severed head up high to show his victory. This made the remaining barbarians retreat. Alvilda, relieved, watched as the horde fled the scene. Smiling, she called out, “Hail Endre!”

  Endre dropped the severed head and turned toward her. Alvilda’s smile faded quickly as she gazed into his haunted eyes. Endre’s once bright blue eyes had been replaced by black sockets. She could feel that something was wrong. This isn’t how it happened, she thought.

  Endre let out a fierce howl that dropped Alvilda to her knees. Her hands covered her ears as she began to scream.

  *

  Alvilda was sitting upright when she awoke screaming into the night. Her head was pounding and she could hear Gothorm laughing in the back of her mind.

  “What have you done?” She asked aloud as she got to her feet.

  “With any luck, I called in some reinforcements!” Gothorm replied.

  Alvilda moved to the edge of the drop and scanned the moon lit valley below. For a moment nothing stirred. All was silent except the light rustling of the trees. Alvilda began to relax a little when something below caught her eye.

  There were a handful of creatures rushing her way. She could not tell what these creatures were, but could see that they were large and moving fast. Some of the trees shook violently as the beast ran by them. It wasn’t until they reached the bottom of the drop did she see them for what they were, werewolves.

  Alvilda turned and ran back toward the forest, ripping off her cloak as she did this. She knew the cloak would just slow her down if she did not shed it and speed was at the up most importance at the moment. Alvilda had no illusions of out running the werewolves, but if she was lucky she could make it back to the old village to make her stand.

  “Yes, run for your life witch!” Gothorm said taunting her.

  Four grey werewolves came over the drop into the clearing were Alvilda made camp and scouted the site by sniffing around. When they finished scouting the four of them stood up on their hind legs and turned back to the drop. A fifth werewolf appeared from over the edge and walked slowly toward them. His hair was not grey like the rest but black, and he was quite a bit bigger than the other four.

  “What did you find?” The black werewolf asked.

  “It fled into the forest, Halldor. It couldn’t have gotten far.” One of the werewolves answered.

  “Then track it!” Halldor demanded.

  The four grey werewolves dropped down on all fours and rushed into the forest. Halldor stayed behind long enough to find Alvilda’s cloak. He snatched it up and sniffed at it. The black werewolf was confused about there being two scents coming from the cloak. One was more powerful than the other, but it was the second one that was throwing him off. He took note that the stronger smell was a female scent and locked on to that. Tossing the cloak aside, Halldor followed after the other four werewolves.

  *

  Alvilda arrived back in the abandoned village only moments before the large grey werewolves did. She quickly drew her sword and then cast the invisibility spell making herself vanish. As the four werewolves entered the village they stood back up on their hind legs. Halldor emerged from the forest in the same manner.

  “Spread out and find it!” Halldor yelled and the other werewolves listened.

  They began by ransacking the huts one by one. Halldor stood back and watched. He did not help in the search. Alvilda took note of this and pinned him as the leader of the pack. She noticed that there was something different about him. Most werewolves could not control themselves as he was, but he seemed cool and calculated.

  “You might as well show yourself to them and get this over with. You are going to die, Alvilda. You can’t defeat them.” Gothorm said.

  “We’ll see about that.” She said under her breath.

  One of the grey werewolves entered a hut not too far from where she was standing and she followed him in. Once inside, she drove the sword into the werewolf’s lower back. It howled in intense pain and spun around quickly. Alvilda was not able to pull the sword out in time and lost it. She cast a fire spell on the beast engulfing him in flames.

  The werewolf ran out of the hut in a fiery ball and collapsed dead in the middle of the dirt road. The three remaining grey werewolves descended on the hut, but Halldor stopped them from entering.

  “Stop!” He yelled and added, “Stand aside; I’ll take care of this.”

  Halldor walked to the open door of the hut and peered inside. The hut seemed void of any living creators but his nose told him different. The scent he picked up on was the same from the cloak he examined earlier. He knew she was here.

  Alvilda stood along the wall just to the right of the open door. She’d hoped that the large black werewolf would pass her by so she could slip out the door and make a run for it. As Halldor stepped across the threshold he stopped and looked to his left. He sniffed at the air and seemed to be concentrating on that side of the hut.

  Inside Alvilda’s head Gothorm was screaming, “Turn around you beast, she’s right here!”

  It took all of her concentration to keep Gothorm from coming forward. The pounding in her head worsened with every word Gothorm screamed. It wouldn’t be long before her strength gave out and then it would all be over. If only the werewolf would take one more step to his left then Alvilda could flee, but he didn’t.

  Halldor’s right hand shot out and grabbed Alvilda by the throat, pinning her to the wall. Alvilda tried to wrestle her way out of the hold but it did no good. Halldor was much too strong.

  “Show yourself!” Halldor demanded.

  Alvilda knew she was trapped and complied by making herself visible. Halldor, surprised, brought his face close to hers. His rancid breath made her want to vomit as he looked her up and down.

  “You’re no necromancer, but you carry one’s scent upon you.” Halldor said.

  The hair on Halldor's arms started to stand up as the static electricity in the room began to rise. Without warning Alvilda unleashed a lightning spell in a last ditch effort to free herself. Halldor took the punishment quite well. He pulled Alvilda from the wall and then slammed her back into it knocking her head pretty good. The lightning stopped at once.

  “Petty witch, did you really think that your weak magic would harm me?! Now tell me, where is the necromancer that called out to us?” Halldor asked.

  Alvilda was beat and she knew it. She felt ready for this to be over.

  “I have his soul imprisoned within me. Kill me and set him free if you must.” She said wearily.

  Halldor roared with laughter.

  “Set him free? No my dear, I’m not here to help him. I’m here to kill him.” Hal
ldor said.

  “I don’t understand. Do you not serve Loki?”

  “I did once, but that was an age ago. Now I serve myself, because I am no ordinary lycanthrope, I’m a new breed. I don’t simply feed on the flesh of the living; I absorb their powers becoming stronger with every victim. I hunt the powerful and when I heard the necromancer cry out, I knew I had to have him.”

  Alvilda reached out to Necromancer in her mind, “Are you hearing this Gothorm? I hope you’re happy.”

  “No, this can’t be!” Gothorm shouted inside her head.

  “It’s happening! He means to kill us both and steal our powers.” Alvilda replied.

  Halldor, still holding Alvilda by the throat threw her to the floor and then grabbed both her wrists and pinned her down.

  “With both of your powers combined, I’ll become more powerful than I could have ever imagined.” Halldor howled.

  Alvilda could feel Gothorm’s rage growing to an uncontrollable level. In any other circumstance she would have done what she could to hold him back, but not now. Alvilda decided to let Gothorm come forward and merge half and half with her.

  The two became one. Her eyes turned black and her body became immersed in a greenish white aura of necroshine. Halldor let go of her wrist and tried to back away, but it was too late. The new entity that Alvilda and Gothorm had become let out a burst of energy from its fingertips. The shock wave hit Halldor throwing him through the wall back out into the street. The burst of energy melted the right side of his face, exposing the bone.

  Halldor rolled across the ground and howled in pain. The other werewolves stood and watched in awe. Alvilda and Gothorm came through the opening in the wall not walking but floating. They hovered just outside of the hut with their arms outstretched, teasing the werewolves to make a move.

  “Kill them you fools!” Halldor screamed.

  The three werewolves rushed at them but they were no match for the two. As Alvilda and Gothorm fought with the beast, Halldor sank back and slipped in to the woods. From the shadows he watched as the two tore the grey werewolves to pieces, taking no time at all. Knowing he could not win Halldor turned and fled.