Zarketh: The Hungering Cold

Contents

Prologue: Cold Mercy

Back to Basics

Coping with Afterlife

Vision of Death’s Future

The Ark of Dreams

Planet Serajth

Daxx the Black Wolf

Curse of the Night

Kaylen, the Cursed Elf

The Demon Prince, Taer

The Symbolic’s Rival

The Path to Krosendas

Legacy

The Undead Armada

The Long March

Freeing the Old Past

Restoring

The First Charge

The Mountain Top

The Dark Maze

Daylia

Old Suffering

Remembering the Path

Restoring Friendship

Death Pulse

The Road to Krosendas

Ravage of the Parasites

Gates of Krosendas

Citadel of Krosendas

The Days Ahead

Prince Russell

The Dynamic Dream for the Dynamic Duo

Rise of the Brotherhood

The Frozen Planet

Preparing the End

Tides of Darkness

An Immortal Body, but a Mortal Heart

Desperation

Warship Kargeth

A Story to Tell

White Beach

The Weakened Soul

The Wait

The March

Creatures

Ancient Magic

Planets

Prologue: Cold Mercy

The night was cold as ice and black as hell. Dark clouds covered the half moon, the stars barely visible in the night sky. The air was still, the noises of the forest and the distant lands beyond reverberating softly in the night. The water, sparkling intermittingly through the enveloping mist, sat quiet as the land around it.

A figure appeared between the dark trees, its footsteps hurried. The figure was covered in a black cloak and gloves, melding with the misty night. The dark cowl lifted, giving a brief glimpse of glowing, pupil-less eyes and the soft outline of a female face. She ran on, her breath coming in sharp pants. A small town lay ahead, and she glanced just once over her shoulder before slowing, her chest heaving. The houses were dark, the streets deserted. She was alone.

She entered slowly step by step, her head whipping from side to side, until she reached the center of the town. She stopped to catch her wind. The grave-like silence was deafening and weighed down on her like a suffocating blanket, and she suddenly found it hard to breathe. Her glowing eyes glanced from dark alley to alley, as if expecting someone—or something—to leap out of the shadows. After a long moment of silence, she let her shoulders relax and head droop, sighing.

I think I lost them, she thought as she studied the dust-covered ground. Her breathing evened out and she looked back up, eyeing the roofs of the nearest buildings.

I can’t be here…

She turned around and started off in another direction, her footsteps steady. She passed the dark entrance to a closed bakery when the sound between a growl and croak made her freeze. Turning slowly, she looked behind her into the mist rolling purposefully at the town’s entrance. Three sets of glowing, yellow eyes appeared floating in the blackness before slowly manifesting in to decaying, blackened faces in the mist.

Her eyes went wide and mouth gaped, and she took an involuntary step backward. The creatures took shape as they stepped closer through the mist, revealing dark plated helmets and armour with cleavers and shields in their clawed hands. They ambled out of the mist towards her, acid dripping from their mouths and leaving smouldering holes in the ground where their saliva landed. Frozen at the sight of them, she stood in place even as they neared. A scream caught in her throat as the nearest creature raised it cleaver over its head. The creature gurgled and started to bring the cleaver down, the blade glinting in the faint moonlight, when the rattle of a doorknob and the creaking of a door in one of the houses to her left caught its attention. The creatures all turned as one and the woman finally broke from her shock and turned as well. A tall, dark haired man stumbled out of the open door wearing nothing but his sleeping robe and rubbed his eyes. Dropping his hand to his side, he blinked. The woman continued to look at him, anticipating. The creatures stood motionless, their decaying bodies creaking in the stillness of the night. Suddenly, the man panicked and yelled, Undead!

The man’s cry ripped through the air causing the stillness of the night to be broken by the roar of the Undead. Soon, candles were lit and doors were opening in every house in the village. The clanging sounds of metal filled the air as the man ran back inside the house. The woman took another step away from the creatures before her and the Undead turned their heads to pin her with their gazes. Their glowing eyes darkened and one creature roared and charged. Stumbling backward, she screamed as she saw the cleaver arcing toward her. She closed her eyes, expecting the sharp impact of the blade, when she heard the clash of metal on metal. Her eyes popped open to see a villager before her, his worn out sword scraping against the creature’s cleaver. He swung at the Undead and chopped off its head.

Take that Undead fiend! he yelled, his chest heaving in his ill fitting plate armour.

The other two Undead gave an ear piercing roar as their companion fell to pieces at their feet. A sudden darkness overtook the town, a heavy blackness blotting out the few visible stars, as the other villagers came out with pikes, shields, and torches.

The woman didn’t think. She didn’t even look over her shoulder to see if the creatures were following. She just turned and ran out of the town and back into the forest. She kept running until she heard the Human screams tear through the night. She stopped, turned around, and panting, listened her head bowed. A moment of silence and stillness was all she could give them. And then she ran again. She ran, regretting what she had done.

Gasping for air, she finally found herself in a clearing atop a hill and she turned back once more to look down upon the town. The darkness that had settled over the town was gone now; the houses burning brightly in the night, the flames arching high and licking at the dark clouds. The screams were only now beginning to quiet and she knew the deaths of those villagers were her fault. And then she heard it. The loud, night piercing roar and she knew: it was coming after her. She sent a silent prayer into the night for the souls of those villagers and then she turned and ran.

She had to keep moving. She knew she had to keep moving, no matter what the cost. And someday, she had to believe that someday she would escape the Undead menace that followed her.

Back to Basics

Dmitri, you must give this up, please, sir, Eradon said as he walked into the room without knocking. I looked at him for a second, then stared back down at the book I was reading, one arm perched on the rests of the chair, a bunch of open books on the table before me. Eradon was a Dark Demon, who became my servant in the castle of the dead. He loomed over me, nearly four times my size but gentle and Humanlike nonetheless. Eradon was old for his species, but still helpful and never tired of standing beside me.

Eradon approached me and kneeled, his metal armor scraping against the stone floor, Sir, you must end it, you can’t change it; no one can, he said, his gaze locked on the ground.

I looked back at him; couldn’t quite focus on his face or discern what he was saying. I shook my head, concentrated. I rubbed one pale hand through my spiky white hair. I guess I got caught up in it again, didn’t I?

He stared at me, and then nodded as he slowly stood to his full height. I looked back at the book and read a bit more, dragging my fingers across the words so that I could understand it better. If all must understand my story… they must first understand my rule… I stopped and looked back at Eradon. I knew he was right, but I had to keep trying. I couldn’t let it end that way. I finally lifted my fingers from the page and sighed. Rising from my chair, I tilted my head back to stretch the muscles in my neck; my bare chest chilled by the cool air, and stared at the ceiling. A purple strip seemed to surround it. I looked at it and noticed that time was still moving forward… But what I want is for time to move backwards… to undo what has been done…

My name is Dmitri Sergei Sion. I started out as a simple man with a two handed sword, and yet now I am the very hero of this Universe.

Sir, I will clean these books up for you, you need to get some rest. Eradon said as he gently grabbed a few tomes, careful not to shred them with his claws.

Eradon, how can I fix it? I asked, really wanting him to be able to give me the answer.

Sir, no one can change the past… not even you, but even without magic you try… why is that sir? Eradon turned to look at me, huge arms full of books.

I want to change what has happened. I want to change their fates… I don’t know how this could’ve happened but I know now that I can prevent it if I just knew how to go back. I could set things right. I slumped back down on my chair and leaned forward, right elbow on the table as I rested my head on my right hand. I extended my long legs out beneath the table, my black pants and boots hidden in the shadows. Eradon approached and kneeled down so that his pale, green eyes were level with my brown ones. His dark blue skin was visible under the brown inscribed shoulder plates and leg guards. His chest was bare, face hard. Long, unkempt, dark black hair hung around his face. I paused at his nonexistent nose between his green eyes and his mouth.

Sir, I have met no one who has the power to change time, not even master Russell has it and he is excelled in this stuff. You push and push to find the answer, but… there is no way sir, you have to accept that. He blinked and stood back up.

I looked down at one of the books Eradon had yet to collect. Blizzara’s rebirth could’ve been avoided if I just… I opened my eyes wide and looked closer, then reached out, gently placing down the book I was holding and grabbed up the other book and started to read.

Eradon came around the side of the table and looked over my shoulder.

What are you reading? he asked.

If only I had just destroyed the ice like I should’ve the first time, then I would’ve never had to… I said, but stopped. I dropped the book and it slammed onto the table, opening at the very page I had been reading. I leaned back, silent this time, and brought my hand up to my cleanly shaven face and stared at my palm with disgust. Eradon watched me, confused.

Damn… This never would’ve happened if I just… I yelled as I got up quickly, kicking the chair back and knocking it over onto the floor. Eradon was silent, but I barely noticed. I placed my hands flat on the table and stared at them, my breathing growing ragged in my frustration. Eradon finally approached me and with the books balanced in the crook of his arms, put three fingers of his massive hand on my shoulder. I turned slowly and looked up at him as he stood there. His head hung down as if the anger I felt and the troubles I contemplated brought sadness to him as well. He was a good Dark Demon, better than any I had known before or since. Better than some elves and Humans I have known.

Sir, you tried your hardest for everyone, nothing can describe how many you have saved… Eradon started, and then his lipless mouth stopped, as if expecting an interruption from me. I stood there looking at him, completely silent, pain washing over me.

Eradon finally continued. Do not dwell on the past thinking it was your mistake, it was they who chose their paths and decisions, it was also you who chose yours. He took his hand off my shoulder.

My decision is what got them killed… It was my decision to destroy the Warship; it was my decision to destroy the Elvin race, even if they were my greatest allies. It was also my choice to set everything I built on fire… that is why the mistakes I have made cannot be forgiven.

Your decision saved the others who were right. You fought for the honored, not for the despicable. This was bound to happen, sooner or later, even if he was destroyed before he was released, Eradon replied with a grin on his black bearded face. He seemed really certain that I hadn’t made a mistake; I however disagree, but didn’t intend to argue. Perhaps it was bound to happen sooner or later. I just wished I had found out sooner.

I walked away from the table then and put my hands on the wall to calm myself. I looked back. Eradon was picking up the books, closing them, and placing them gently back on the shelves where I first got them. I noticed then that I read a lot; a lot, but not enough. Some of these books explain heroism on other planets, in other stories. The heroism in these books seems so much easier than mine; these stories are what I wanted it to be like. I wanted it to be glorious and heroic, not like this; not the blood lust rampage I went on, for what? The common good? How am I so different from the people I fought if I am just as cold as they? I wouldn’t know, I still don’t know. I only fight if I am truly needed nowadays… and so far, I haven’t fought since that day…

My thoughts swirled, I caught one thought about my son, Masshuu, and I wondered why he was on my mind. I wondered how his life had been since we parted on that day. He seemed like such a good son to me, considering he went from evil to good, to later become a Paladin. I would hate to see him walk that wrong path again, but I can’t make his decisions for him. He is half-Demon because of the generic blood from Legendtrak and that could be a hindrance. The clinking sound of Eradon’s feet against the ground woke me from the daze of thoughts I was in.

I am finished cleaning up now, sir; is there anything else you need me for? Eradon asked with a smile. He knew that I was still troubled but he didn’t ask about it, didn’t comment on it. I like that about Eradon; he always knows when to speak, and when to hold his tongue. It makes me think how a Dark Demon can actually become a worthy being; usually they just want to knock the crap out of you. I realized that maybe being half-Demon wouldn’t be as much of a hindrance for Masshuu as I thought. After all, Eradon was a full Dark Demon and he was decent enough.

Have you seen my son lately? I asked. Eradon looked at me as though I was confused, but he smiled none the less.

I have not gotten word from your son sir, and I do not know where he is, but he is not dead, that’s for sure.

I didn’t respond to the dead statement because usually when anyone who has entered this tower dies, they will reappear here as a spirit or ghost and will forever walk the halls of this castle. Not many people are here, but there are plenty of spirits. That’s why it’s called the Tower of the Dead.

Alright, then there is nothing I need of you. I said softly; I didn’t even look at Eradon as I stared at the ground, emotionless and still as a statue. I assume Eradon simply nodded, as he usually did, and I heard his footsteps recede as he started towards the door. I stood there, lost in my thoughts once more.

After a couple hours, I straightened up away from the wall and looked around at the purple strips again. They were still moving. I stretched; easing an ache from my shoulders, then sighed and walked over to the door. I waited for a second, staring at the large doorframe made to accommodate Eradon, then opened the door, walked through, and closed it behind me. I was in the dim hallway. At the edges of the ceiling, the purple strip flowed along the rounded, cylinder-like walls of the hallway and passed me into my room. I glanced back at the closed door. Sighing, I walked along the hallway until I reached another door. I opened it and there I was at the top of my castle.

It was a beautiful sight. The purple strips were everywhere, moving in random directions, and all leading to the purple strips in the hallway which led to my room. Over the rail, three flaming orbs suspended in mid air. The lowest and biggest flamed red, the second biggest in the middle was a blue flame and the top orb, the smallest of the three, was a green flame. Something didn’t seem right . The middle orb was parallel with the top and bottom orbs, but it shouldn’t be. There was always a gap between the top and bottom orbs, while the blue orb in the middle would orbit around the gap. The orbs were constantly twirling but they never moved out of their orbit.

I looked under the rails and noticed the crazy looking ramps and huge stairs leading down into the rest of my castle. The rails continued on the right side of the stairs, but on the left side there was nothing but empty space leading all the way down to the bottom floor. I put my hand on the rails and leaned over, to try to get a better look. Along the rails on the right, were other doors leading to more rooms that generated the purple strips. Some of the purple strips came out of holes at the top of the door, which allowed them to connect with the rest. I didn’t really know what they were for, nor did I ask, but there wasn’t anyone to ask anyways. I just assumed they kept time moving.

Dragging my left hand along the rail I began walking down slowly. The little bumps on the rails irritated me, scraping at my hand, but I ignored them. The bumps, or more accurately, the bizarre designs, were actually Elvin. The Elves had helped me build this place before the events unfolded as they did. Actually, this castle was built with the help of almost every race, and I could not help but want to keep the reminders of this. Humans, Elvin, Tauns, Dark Demons. But then of course they turned their back on me. The only faction that stayed with me all the way was the Brotherhood.

Ah, the Brotherhood. It was formed during the first war. The war against Legendtrak. At this time it was called the Elvin Brotherhood which only the Elves, and of course I, led. I was the chosen leader of the Elvin Brotherhood, but I was never the one to make decisions. I stood there and listened to their suggestions and used their tactics in combat. The Elvin Brotherhood was not well known until the second war which was also against Legendtrak, but by this time we had a different name.

It was called simply the Brotherhood, and it was made up of different races; the most common being Humans and Giants. Giants are Humanoid, much like Eradon, except they lack any real strength with magic. They are physically powerful with amazing brute strength, a strength I wouldn’t want to pit my arms against. This physical strength proved useful when taking down large siege weapons without planting explosives or channeling magic against them. Why waste the strength of mages or the limited supply of explosives when you can easily get one of the giants to just flip it over and crush it with their mighty fists?

Unlike the Alliance, the Brotherhood honored the blade thus they used swords, axes, maces, and catapults. They didn’t believe in machinery like the Alliance did; machinery that caused the Alliance to fail in their conquest for the universe. The Brotherhood never had any Elves join them because of the whispers of the Elvin Brotherhood’s addiction to magic. The Elvin Brotherhood was eventually defeated by what we called the Sisterhood, which was made to run up against the Brotherhood. Though it was a good fight for them, I despised the Sisterhood for their decisions, which is why the Brotherhood and I waged war against them and were victorious, but that is another story.

The Brotherhood stood with me from the second war till the end of Blizzara. They still exist today, but I left them in the leadership of a good friend of mine, Murin. Murin is a giant who has always cared for the planets within the Universe and believes that magic will one day be its doom. I agreed with him, once, but sometimes magic is what saves everyone. It’s a shame I can’t use it anymore.

I continued down the stairs, observing nearly every piece of my tower, as it still truly stood out like it was new. I guess I thank Eradon for that because he didn’t let the tower rot while I was busy holed up in my room. I slowed down as I noticed a small gap between the rails and the tubular room I was in. I looked down over the gap in the railing and noticed the spiraling, winding stairs fading into the distance.

Why did I build this tower so big…? I said to myself quietly. I groaned then started walking again.

I didn’t bother to stop at any of the other doors with the purple strips coming out of them. Instead I kept going down, like I was expecting someone to be there waiting for me at the end of my journey.

As I approached the ground floor, and its black and white diamond shaped tiles, I noticed how silent it was. As though completely empty, no souls, no Eradon. Just me. I ignored the few doors to my left and made my way toward the one on the far right.

I put my hand on the knob and turned it without hesitation. The door opened slowly on to a giant room with a bunch of long tables, big enough to seat fifty. At the end of the room was the head table, where Eradon and I sat. The tables still seemed to be set as though waiting for dinner to arrive. The candles on each table were lit and the cutlery was perfectly set across each plate. I noticed none of the chairs were out of order.

I walked around, the echo of my footsteps the only sounds. There was no one in sight and I began to wonder just where everyone was. I went around the first table and then started making my way to the table where Eradon, I, and a couple of major people, dead obviously, sat. I walked to the table standing directly across from my chair. I stared at my chair and the perfectly settled place setting and I realized I hadn’t come to dinner in over fifty-five years… I hadn’t done a lot of things in fifty-five years

I looked away from the chair and the place settings, and stared at a smaller door, although still big enough for Eradon to fit through, on the far right. I started towards the door which led to the kitchen. I know, I said this is the Tower of the Dead. So why is there a kitchen? Well, dead people have to eat too, because their souls are trapped here until I, or Eradon release them so technically they are half-alive right now. It doesn’t make much sense I know, I was pretty confused at first but I figured to let those problems be other people’s problems.

I approached the door with caution for some reason. I put my hand on the knob and I heard some slicing and chatting behind this door. I thought for a second that the tower was deserted after I came back but I guess I need to actually look after my tower on my own rather than getting Eradon to do all the work. I opened the door and walked inside.

Ghost chefs were chopping up food, preparing dinner. Eradon, who was helping, towered over the cooks. The air was rich with the smell of spices. I closed the door and everyone stopped what they were doing. They all looked straight at me and I felt uneasy about being there.

Lord Dmitri, you’re back, a female chef said. I looked around and the other chefs smiled, seeming excited.

Will you be joining us for dinner sir? Eradon asked as he approached. He kneeled down again to be on eye level with me and I realized he had to do that a lot. I must have looked rather lost. Well like I said I haven’t left my room in over fifty-five years, so I guess I sort of was.

What’s on the menu? I asked, feigning interest.

Ah you will not be disappointed; it’s the finest meat around, called Ereth Gowl, you should like, yes? an old chef said as everyone continued to stare my way.

I haven’t had a good meal in a while, eh why not? I replied. All I had been getting was meals brought to be by Eradon. I hadn’t sat down and enjoyed a fresh meal in … forever.

Eradon stood. Good, dinner will start in about twenty minutes.

I nodded and everyone else got back to work with a grin on their face. I stood there for a couple seconds then turned around, opened the door, and left.

Back in the main hallway, I noticed something I hadn’t seen before. I walked up the main stairs again, only to find two stairs leading off from the main stairs, one to the left and one to the right and a wall in the center. An imposing set of double doors stood before me; big enough for a giant dragon to fit through. For the life of me, I couldn’t remember what they were for. I grabbed one of the knobs, but snatched my hand back as an electric shock traveled along my arm. I stood there, still as a statue; then looked up. No purple strips were coming out of the door nor going in. I knew this door was special, but something pulled me back as if it didn’t want me to know. I backed away from the door, heart racing. But why? I started back towards my room but as I stepped onto the fourth step, I stopped and looked back at the door. Its odd parallel shape really caught me.

Irked, I turned back towards the door and looked at it from top to bottom. Ignoring the pain, I grabbed the knob, turned it, pushed the door open and walked through to discover a long, empty hallway.

The place seemed familiar as I walked deeper into it. I know it’s strange, but even though this is my castle, gooseflesh mottled my arms. It was like I knew something bad was coming but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

Deeper and deeper into the hallway, a chill wind blew. There was no end in sight and I shivered. Looking back, there was no sign of the entrance either. My breaths came short and sharp, pulse throbbing.

It grew darker the farther I walked and I began to sense something important would lie at the end.

I kept going, increasing my pace. If I dawdled, I would miss dinner with Eradon and the others. Suddenly, a light shone up ahead brightening the end of the hallway. I had to blink a few times to let my eyes adjust as I edged closer. A large circular room covered with symbols met my eyes.

I walked inside, examining the symbols. To my left, it said, Power. To the right, Wisdom. I couldn’t remember what the others meant but I knew that this was none other than a sanctuary. Parts of the floor were uneven but the glowing light in the middle of the room caught my eye. It had ramps leading up to it like a small hill. I continued up one of the ramps, feeling like I was walking up the Alter of Legends; the very thing that cursed me in the first place. As I approached the blinding light, it dimmed and I saw the object before me with its flame filled, blood red orb near its tri-spiral hilt, its pulsing red blade that was longer than the rest of the weapon, with three large brown spikes connecting the orb to the blade, I backed away in horror. It was the very weapon that caused the deaths of my friends… the very thing that gave me confidence to fight, the object that caused and continued my curse… The Ark of Dreams.

The Ark of Dreams, or what I call the Ark, was the start of my curse and someday will be the end