CHAPTER 12

The Necromancer

Gilchrist stopped to catch his breath and motioned the others to do the same. They had been running for a long time and everyone needed to rest.  He studied his surroundings "Just an-other endless corridor," he whispered "in a maze of endless corridors."  He could hear the frustration in his voice.  "I will surely have nightmares about this place," Gilchrist thought about all the noble reasons there were to dare these catacombs.  But now, he did not know.  All they had found so far was a chamber of horrors.  He had thought they were dealing with just a petty necromancer, but whoever ruled this foul place was a powerful being indeed.  Gilchrist could not shake the feeling of despair that was creeping over him.  They had fought some of the most evil beings in the Netherworld--skeletons, zombies, and wraiths--and still they had not found their quarry.  Now, he wasn't so sure he wanted to find him at all.  He shook his head, "Get a hold of yourself Gilchrist Hauk.  It's just this cursed place playing tricks with your mind."  Then, all of a sudden he realized what was happening.  He could hear the whispering words of doubt in his ear.  "Run away, forsake your petty Gods."  He was under the effect of a spell, a spell so subtle he had almost not detected it.  "Damn you Heinrich Kemmler," he said under his breath, "I will not succumb to your treachery so easily."  He prayed silently to Sigmar and the amulet around his neck began glowing softly.  Gradually all the voices faded away leaving an eerie silence, broken only by the labored breathing of his com-rades.

Gilchrist surveyed the group.  Garrick was not looking well.  He had set off a trap and taken a large dose of poison gas.  That he had survived was a miracle indeed.  The Gods were surely with him this day.  As for Lyndryell and Enrico, both had been in search of hidden treasure when a fireball exploded in their fac-es.  Lyndryell, thanks to his lightning quick reflexes had es-caped with just some singed hair (although to a Wardancer this is considered a major injury).  But Enrico, the poor fellow had gotten the worst of it.  His face was black with soot, his robes were charred and his breastplate was scorched nearly beyond recognition.  "Oh, I'm sure we'll hear about that if we ever make it out of here alive," Gilchrist thought to himself with a chuckle.  He himself was still feeling the effects of some deadly spores that he had inhaled and was glad for the reprieve, however, short-lived it may be.  Aenarion, who seemed to be the only one that had managed to avoid all of the hazards so far, was busy tending to the others.

"I think I have something to ease the pain of those burns.  "Now where did I put those," Aenarion rifled through his pack and finally pulled out two vials full of dark red liquid.  No one noticed the distant look in his eyes, or him putting a pinch of powder in each vial.  "Yes, ease your pain," he repeated, handing one each to Enrico and Lyndryell, "ease your pain."  Lyndryell raised the potion to his lips and caught the faint odor of something unusual.  He smelled it again and his puzzled look was replaced by a look of horror as he realized what it was.  "Stop!" he shouted as he slapped the vial out of Enrico's hand.  But it was too late.  The container was empty.  "Poison," Lyndryell said accusingly, "what have you done."  Enrico staggered and fell to the cold stone floor as the poison started to take effect.  Gilchrist rushed to his side pulling out his last healing potion.  It was almost empty.  Hopefully it would be enough.

Garrick's fingers tightened around his axe when he saw the wild look in Aenarion's eyes.  The look of a trapped animal.  Lyndryell drew his swords but it was too late.  The lithe Elf Ranger lunged toward Gilchrist and Enrico with sword in hand.  Gilchrist heard the cry of warning and turned just in time to ward of an assuredly fatal blow.  The sword hit his arm, glanced off and struck him in the thigh.  Gilchrist dropped to the floor in agony, fumbling for one of his healing Amulets as his life-blood spilled onto the floor.  Garrick and Lyndryell jumped Aenarion from behind pinning him against the wall.  The Elf Ranger struggled fiercely, nearly breaking their grasp, but the two held on, aided by a still weakened Enrico who had managed to work up enough strength to help.  "What is the matter with him, Lyndryell?"  Garrick asked straining to keep Aenarion pinned.  "I am afraid that this is not our friend, his mind is being controlled somehow.  And most likely, when we locate Heinrich Kemmler, we will find the answers we seek."  Suddenly, Aenarion went limp in their arms and slumped to the floor.  "Now that we know about him and he can be of no further use, he must have been released," Garrick surmised as he helped a dazed Aenarion up from the floor.  Aenarion looked at Gilchrist who had just picked himself up off the floor, healed by the power of his Amulet, and then at his now bloody sword and sank back against the wall.  The realization of what he had done weighing heavily on is soul.  Gilchrist walked over to him and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.  "The horror continues," was all he could say.

They continued moving deeper into the mountain fighting their way through the catacombs, facing unspeakable terrors as they continued their search.  Finally, they came upon a vast chamber with two large doors at the far end.  The room was old, very old with rotted furniture scattered about.  The stench of evil was thick in this room.  "I believe our search is nearly ended," Gilchrist said, pointing to the large double doors, "let us proceed cautiously," Lyndryell agreed.  The group moved slowly toward the door.  They came to an abrupt halt as the doors began to open and an eerie red mist began seeping from the room.  They moved forward entering the room, weapons drawn ready for the battle they knew was soon to come.  Then, they unexpectedly froze.  The warriors looked at each other in terror as they real-ized that they could not move.  They strained to put just one foot in front of the other, but they could not.  They could see Heinrich, atop a dais surrounded by evil creatures, laughing with glee at the sight before him.

"Welcome brave warriors, do not struggle, you cannot resist my will.  You have done well to get this far.  So well in fact that I wish to use you in my undead armies.  You will be my generals leading an army of Skeletons and Zombies into battle.  But before I kill you and raise you from the dead, I am going to  make you face what is buried deep in your minds.  What you fear most of all."

"Enrico dé Vangelles.  Young rash Enrico, so shallow and consumed with worldly possessions.  But wait, you are a compassionate one aren't you.  Yes, you not only fear for yourself but your friends as well, and you are concerned about some long lost associates.  Don't you worry, they are still alive for now.  But the Shaman are preparing a special surprise for them.  They are to be taken to Skavenblight and sacrificed to the Great Horned Rat himself.  As for you, you will lead my undead minions into the heart of the Empire, killing everything that stands in your way, starting with House dé Vangelles."

Lyndryell, son of Talion.  You are a long way from home, from your Gods.  You do not fear death at all, not surprising from your breed.  But you do fear shame.  Well, not to worry when I attack the Forests of Loren and you are leading my undead minions against your kin, you will not feel shame at all, just the pull of my mind chanting kill, kill, kill as I control you.  Imagine your animated corpse slaying Orion himself."

"Aenarion, the Elf Ranger, protector of the animals and wilderness.  You will lead my army into the forests and mountains of the Empire.  You will enslave the Orc and Goblin tribes there and burn the forests to the ground, killing animals for sport as you will need no nourishment.  Starting with your own two mangy mutts."

"Gilchrist Hauk, the valiant Witchhunter.  I shall have a special place at my side reserved for you, right next to Vishder.  Yes, that's right, Vishder Scibus, your old master.  You saved him from himself but you can't save him from me.  He has read the dreaded Grimoir Necris and that information has proven invaluable to me.  Yes, Gilchrist and Vishder, together again.  Sorcerers of the black arts."

"And, finally, Garrick Stormfeld, second son of the House Stormfeld, embarrassment to your family, forced down the path of ... of ...  No!... No! not you, what are you doing here ... get away! ... Get away!  Arrgh........"

Suddenly Heinrich's body was flung through the air as if thrown by some invisible assailant.  He slammed into the wall and fell to the floor.  The warriors minds were immediately released.  They could see Heinrich struggling to reach his feet and the quintet were so enraged by his treacherous tongue that they fought with a savage ferocity, the likes of which has never been seen in the known world.  They waded through the undead bodyguards with Gilchrist at the fore.  Hacking and slashing in all directions, intent on one goal.  Reaching Heinrich Kemmler before anyone else.  The others had fallen behind, bogged down in the battle by the time he reached the Necromancer, who was still weak from his encounter with whatever being had attacked it.  "You will die for your treachery," Gilchrist said as he swung in a wild arc.  But Heinrich deftly blocked it with his staff.  "Pray that I win his duel, Witchhunter," he said with a spiteful laugh.  "The fate that I have in store for you is nothing com-pared to the path you have so blindly chosen."  They went back and forth Gilchrist attacking, Heinrich blocking, Heinrich attacking, Gilchrist blocking.  Gilchrist was driven on by the sheer desire to kill the blasphemous thing before him.  But Heinrich was tiring.  The energy involved in keeping his minions animated and also fighting the enraged Witchhunter was too much for him in his weakened state.  Gilchrist feinted and thrust and when Heinrich moved to block, Gilchrist dropped to the floor sweeping his foot in a wide arc, tripping Heinrich in the process.  When Heinrich fell to the floor face down, Gilchrist jumped him, straddling his back with his knees.  He grabbed him by the hair, pulled his head up off the floor, and pressed his knife against Heinrich's exposed neck.

"Gilchrist, don't kill me!"  "Why should I not kill you demon," Gilchrist shot back, but then realized the voice was not Heinrich's.  He looked up and standing before him was Vishder, or at least what used to be Vishder.  "Don't kill me again," came the hollow voice. "He is making you say that.  Fight him," Gilchrist said, tears streaming down his face.  "I know I did the right thing."  "You murdered me before and now by killing Heinrich you will murder me again."  Gilchrist's mind was racing, "Is he right?  Did I murder him?  No!  No!," his sorrow turned to rage, "You are not Vishder.  At least not the Vishder I once knew."  "Forgive me my friend," he said quietly as he slit Heinrich's throat.  "Forgive me again."