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The Gamer Chapter 1689 – Chase for the Cure 7 – A guest in the Necropolis [Lorelei POV]
🕑 Added 2024-05-31 17:08:11 +0000 UTC
“Hold still,” Glory instructed. The fingers of the golden wraith smeared a salve over the cut on the seer’s throat. It did little to heal the wound, but at least staunched the bleeding. “More vitality to you than I would think,” he complimented her.
“I have been blessed by the Lady through the acts of my beloved,” Lorelei answered.
“And now you get to visit the Necropolis, you are a blessed one!” Zelos declared.
“That we even give her the honour,” War scoffed. The red rider had taken his helmet off, revealing the face of a well-preserved ghoul. He had been handsome in life, some would call him handsome still, but the bloodless look to his features and the sunken eyes did not attract Lorelei. She liked her men tall, proud, and conventionally attractive. She liked her man.
Famine rode beside them. The body of Famine, that was, hanging on top of his malnourished horse with barely less energy than the lethargic vampire usually had.
“Do not be such a stickler, Ares, she is a guest now,” Zelos chastised.
War rolled his eyes, bloodshot, grey things, and kept on riding. “Keep up.”
Lorelei had no problem doing so. The Grim Reaper led at a leisurely pace, her and the two and a half Horseman behind him, and behind them, in rows of four, the legion of undead they had brought with them.
They marched down an ethereal path that wound through the space between Illusion Barriers. Mortals were not supposed to walk this realm. It was a means of travel reserved to the gods and powerful Abyssal creatures like high dragons. It allowed them to appear anywhere in the world or even the Sanctums of fellow gods.
Lorelei had never peered into this space before. Under other circumstances, she would have wept at the brilliance. The Illusion Barriers all over the world swirled like bubbles, big and small, in an ocean of prismatic might, tethered together and yet loose. This was the Lady’s Sanctum, the realm of Faith and magic, enveloping all else there was and could be. Did even Kingdoms swirl in this, the true Abyss?
The light of the Lady was dimmed to her perception by the dread before her. The Grim Reaper was a maelstrom of fear, gathering it into him and sealing it within his form. From his black cowl, thousands of tethers reached out, connecting to the souls of his followers or, in the absence of one, the bodies of reanimated puppets. There were few of them around, only a dozen skeletons shaped by magic to carry a few spoils.
The god of the fear of death created the path they were walking on by casual extension of his will. No mortal should have walked this realm, but the Grim Reaper opened an exception for her.
A truly gargantuan space closed in on them. They were walking as much towards it as it was coming towards them. As the distance grew shorter, the wall that hid its contents became more and more transparent until, suddenly, Lorelei felt pavement under her feet rather than ethereal mana-stuff.
The Necropolis was gargantuan. Lorelei had once looked down at Rome from the sky and thought that the Eternal City was more than the Abyss was meant to contain. The city of the dead was so much more than that.
Buildings of dark stone spread as far as her second sight could extend and further still. Architectural styles of all ages and places mingled in an endless expanse of civilization. At times it was dense, at others it was wide open. Despite its name, the Necropolis contained life in the form of great gardens and zoos. The people living in it, however, were all the walking dead.
There was laughter there, turning into cheers as the Grim Reaper led his forces down the central street. “Yes, we have returned!” thundered Zelos. “Cheer for your great lord, people of the Necropolis! Once more, Death has been victorious!”
The people roared in support. Ghostly entities of ethereal green, clapping skeletons, ghouls whose physical body was bloodless but otherwise remained preserved, vampires and mixtures of all of these kinds of undead made up the city’s population.
“415’432,” War told Lorelei.
“What?” the seer asked.
“The population of the Necropolis. You were wondering,” War, or Ares as Zelos had called him (just as much of a title as War itself was, just in another language), said.
“The truly largest city of the Abyss!” Zelos boasted. “The true eternal city!”
They continued up the broad main street. The further they advanced, the more time felt like it was reversing. The newest recruits to the Necropolis reasonably lived on the outskirts and so the style of buildings and clothing went further and further back, all the way until they passed people who preferred to wear primitively worked furs.
Then, they passed through an internal wall and into the domain of the Grim Reaper himself. Lorelei was stunned by the total lack of opulence. Before her was a vast green area, various forests and gardens separated from each other by gothic fences and pathways. There were four medieval castles around the inside of the wall, one of which was absurdly decorated, one of which was purely practical, one appeared to be on the border of dereliction, and one which stood empty.
A fifth one stood at the centre of it all.
“Welcome home, Lord,” greeted a massive creature. It reminded Lorelei of the Horned Rat in its outward appearance. A tall humanoid, covered in short fur, with a horned skull for a head. This one, however, resembled a stag, and the necromantic magic that made up its being was removed from the Faith that empowered the god.
The undead wendigo bowed before the Grim Reaper. “I have a guest.” The god gestured at the seer. “Prepare the accommodations for a mortal.”
“It will be done,” the wendigo stated, then galloped away on hand and feet.
“Immortals, you are dismissed. The third legion will be on call for the next week.” On word of their master, the rows of expertly equipped undead warriors behind Lorelei loosened. The complete silence was replaced with casual chatter. Disciplined soldiers returned to them being as friends and citizens.
“Zelos, Ares, take Limos and put him into his keep. Do as you wish afterwards.”
“I will patrol these lands for your glory, my Lord!”
The Grim Reaper gestured dismissively. “Follow me, seer.” He sounded almost warm in that moment. The two of them walked together, ruler of undeath and seer of the holy Order of the Golden Rose. “What does your doctrine say about necromancy this century?”
“Current interpretation of the scripture has it classified as abominable.”
“A hardline stance then… The Order must have fallen on bad times recently.” The bottom of the scythe repeatedly hit the cobblestone of the road they were following. Tock, tock, tock, tock, it sounded like the mechanism of a grandfather clock swinging away. It was calming in one way and a reminder of the endless passage of time in the other. “Your personal opinion?”
“If I may, I had no reason to disagree with the tenets of the faith so far.” Lorelei beheld the swirling of joyful colours in the air. This place had been a happy one for so long it permeated the fabric of reality. “However, I find no obvious faults in this place.”
“It pleases me to hear that.”
They arrived at the end of the path, where it forked into a nondescript dirt road that led up to a shack surrounded by garden patches and the central keep. “You will find the rest of the way by yourself.” The Grim Reaper gestured at the keep, then turned towards the shack.
Lorelei, standing there by herself, felt a modicum of confusion. “You will not bind me?”
The Grim Reaper turned towards her again. Invisible eyes stared from within the darkness contained by his hood. “You cannot escape the Necropolis without my permission.”
It was a statement of fact that was undisputable. The threads that connected the Grim Reaper to his subjects stretched out around him in an uncountable number. 415’432, that was likely to be the number of threads she saw, connecting him to each and every sapient being that had taken his offer of undeath. Each connection was a pathway of feedback, supplying the Grim Reaper with power and a limited amount of sensory data.
Lorelei tried to peer a little deeper and the Grim Reaper seemingly invited her. He did not hide his nature and she saw the heart of it all. The truth of the first necromancer that laid at the heart of this deity. A god born as a god, the Faith so powerful it made itself an avatar, subverting all of the usual process.
The Grim Reaper wasn’t just a lich, he was the concept that had inspired liches in the first place. His phylactery was every single soul in the Necropolis.
Lorelei snapped back, the vastness of the being threatening to drown her in it. Her sight remained stuck, glued to this maelstrom of magic until the Grim Reaper gently pushed her out. “You’re in no danger here.”
“You truly wish to host me?”
“I sense you expected torture or malevolent treatment.” The Grim Reaper turned away from her again. “Neither benefits me. Your stay here will be comfortable. You say this is the Lady’s path. We will see where it leads.” After he had taken a few steps away, the Grim Reaper turned around again. “Come over for tea when it pleases you. I have new blends to test.”
Lorelei was left standing at the crossroads. Hands folded in front of her stomach, she remained there for a few moments. The air was filled with the pleasant aroma of pine needles and earthy smells.
‘Perhaps I should suggest a doctrinal council on the matter of necromancy to the blessed Warden.’ That thought on her mind, Lorelei began to follow the road up to the large castle. On the way, she wrote to the blessed Gamer. Typing into the Harem Comms window always felt a little awkward. Pressing each button on the hovering keyboard with her index finger, she typed out her message.
Lorelei: Beloved John,
I have been brought to the Necropolis and been given adequate medical attention. The people greeted the Grim Reaper with cheers, as if he was a long lost king returning with news of great victories. We exchanged a few words in private. He has given me assurances that I will be treated well. He is hosting me in a large castle. As I write you these words, I am approaching my accommodations. He also invited me for tea over at his house, a little shack isolated in the centre of the city, surrounded by gardens and forests.
Although my heart aches at our separation, I can sense that this is where I ought to be at this time. The Grim Reaper has displayed interest in seeing where the Lady’s path will take us. I trust in her most benevolent creation. Our paths will surely meet again before long.
In love, forever yours,
Lorelei.
Barely a few seconds passed before John wrote back.
John: Thank God… do tell me when you have confirmation that your housing is adequate.
Lorelei began to type out her response.
Lorelei: Beloved John,
I shall do so at the earliest convenience, which I dare to hope will be soon. However, even if my stay does not meet the opulent standards that you treat me to, I must insist that you will not prioritize saving me. I suspect this space cannot be entered uninvited unless one is of godly status and to unleash Nathalia on this town would be to hurt the innocent souls that, while undead, have made this space their eternal home.
I ask for your patience. I know and love that you wish to reclaim me, but this separation must be for the good of this expedition.
In love, eternally yours,
Lorelei.
John: …
John: I make no promises.
Lorelei smiled a little bit. That was as good as a promise for him to oblige her will. She did not know why, but sincerity was often difficult for her beloved when it came to matters of positive emotion. He would espouse threats with utter conviction, but banter and joke around matters of love and friendship. A quirk that was far from exclusive to him. Most of the harem was like that.
The wish to keep exchanging texts was great, but the castle walls now loomed tall over her. She crossed under the portcullis and stepped into the courtyard. There, the creature of shadows and stag skull was barking orders at ghostly servants.
Rubbing his hands like an embarrassed servant, the monster of no less than three metres of height bowed down in front of her. His soul was a swirling mix of honest discomfort and a white hot, intrusive hunger layered deeper down. “I must ask you to wait for about five more minutes, miss…”
“Lorelei,” the seer answered. “If I may request your name in turn?”
“Most refer to me as the Wendigo, but in life I was named Charles.”
Nodding, the seer said, “Charles then. I can sense your human soul still. It is inspiring to see it maintained despite the urges your Innate Ability implants in you.”
“I… thank you,” the rumbling voice of the creature took on a soft touch. “I doubly apologize for the delay. This keep has not been used in 30 years. We’re cleaning out the cobwebs and are assuring the bathrooms are all still functioning.”
“I will have this entire keep to myself?” Lorelei asked.
“Unless the White Wanderer invites further guests. A most unlikely happenstance, Miss Lorelei.”
Twenty minutes later, the keep was cleaned out and Lorelei given a tour of the various apartments she could inhabit. Lorelei found them all homely. The banners and carpets hanging from the cobblestone walls reminded her of the keeps the Order had sometimes used before their move to America.
She chose a place in the east wing of the keep. It had private access to one of the smaller towers of the keep. On request, a chair was brought to her, allowing her to sit and gaze out the window at this pocket of the Lady’s creation. Surrounded by fluttering birds and carefully raised plants, she saw the knot of magic and Faith that was the Grim Reaper. The entity had replaced the scythe that had cut her throat with a little hand sickle. He used it to carefully curtail the herbs he raised in a patch in front of his little house.
Lorelei could not quite help herself. She raised a hand to her mouth and giggled. ‘What an odd situation,’ she thought to herself. ‘He does not perceive us as enemies, merely as uppity children mingling in his affairs. Did he let Momo take the head, I wonder?’ To that, she received no answer. Whether the Grim Reaper was so benevolent or not, she could not fathom. Too deep was the magic steeping his soul.
Her priority was to update John anyhow.
Comments
Marko
What an interesting turn to the story
Charles Bell IV
Ahh!! I share the name with the Wendigo..that caught me off guard lol
