The Seventh Bell

Back to your master, the youth ordered the Thing, and follow me no more. Tell the Sorcerer that if he wishes to bargain, he may speak with me directly. It resisted as well as it could, but Antarn bore down with his mind upon its will. Back to your master, I said! He felt the creature’s acquiescence and released it, and then receded hastily out of Death. Once his spirit was firmly settled back in his body, Antarn shook the ice crystals out of his hair and set off once more toward Myk’s towers. Nightfall was well on its way.

As the twin towers of Myk’s residence rose into view, the lone traveler quickened his stride. Behind him, various shadowy noises could be heard as the roaming Dead became aware of his presence, but he paid them no heed, for ahead of him was the most beautiful picture he could imagine: two darkened stone towers looming up out of the blackness, with a small fire lit in front of them and the silhouetted figure of a girl busy over the fire. The traveler grinned. Home!

"Antarn!" Kyrinne’s cry alerted the necromancer of his apprentice’s return, and he hurried into the night to greet the wearied youth.

"Master," Antarn bowed low. "I have returned." He fought to keep the emotion from his voice - this was, after all, the only home he had ever known. The necromancer surveyed him silently. The boy had grown over the past months, taller perhaps, and with an air of wisdom about him. An almost dangerous air, Myk thought. He was most curious as to whether the Bell had been obtained, but refrained from questioning his obviously exhausted apprentice. There would be time enough for interrogations in the morning.

"Welcome back, Antarn," Myk said courteously. "You are doubtless weary from your journey, and I will not keep you from your bed. We shall speak to one another in the morning." As Myk retreated to his tower Antarn watched, sensing something odd. He looked at Kyrinne and noticed her biting her lip, a worry line etched upon her brow.

"He’s changed, Antarn, he’s changed tremendously. Tarin Blei found some new weapon, something to do with dust... Antarn? Are you listening?"

He sat down next to the fire, drawing his knees up. "Everything is changing, Kyrinne," he said.

"That’s what I’m trying to tell you! The Master, he’s not himself anymore. There are times when I am afraid to approach him. I must do as he commands, and the legions of the lesser Dead are becoming so..."

"Kyrinne, listen to me. You don’t understand, you haven’t been out there--" with a broad sweep of his hand, he indicated Aramanthia, but his lovely companion was not paying attention. Instead, she stared at his hands.

"Oh, Antarn. Your hands are still burnt," she whispered regretfully.

"It doesn’t matter, I need to tell you what I have seen. You need to hear this." But Kyrinne’s mind was elsewhere.

"Did you find the Bell?" she questioned eagerly.

"Will you listen!" he exploded. The girl shrank back, too astonished at his outburst to say anything. "I need to tell you what I’ve done, what I’ve seen. Yes, I got the Seventh Bell, but that is not important right now. Kyrinne, while I was gone I saw death. No, not the Death that you and I have walked in. Real death. I saw a once prosperous and beautiful land dying under the hands of two stubborn old men who don’t know when to quit. I saw the same lesser Dead that you and I have raised, that we gave bodies, ravaging people’s homes and sucking the life-energy out of Aramanthian children. Children, Kyrinne! I saw Cormanthor, the great elven city, so long deserted that the buildings, the mansions, were in ruins. I spoke to a being vastly more powerful than anything you could imagine, who laughed at my purpose and said that I was misguided. Everything I saw, everything I felt - it made me sick! Kyrinne, this land is dying and it’s their faults, Myk and Blei. Their meaningless war is killing Aramanthia." The girl sat in stony silence, listening as he spoke.