Climbing the stairs to the top of the tomb, they saw through the many high slits in its walls that it was inhabited by numerous more skeletons, who watched them with curiosity. A large black gate at the top of the stairs led into the strange almost globular building at the very top. Inside the single room that filled the entirety of the building, Crefar and Duzz met three strange entities.
On a dark throne atop a high pedestal sat a skeleton clad in black torn fabric that looked like large bat wings. Black crown of shiny obsidian was sitting on its head and in his hand he held a long curved scythe.
Before him, standing like welcoming delegates, there were two more skeletons. One of them clad in long robes, holding a long staff with sickly green pulsating veins running down all its length, that seemed to seep into the stone floor. The other had an air of aristocracy about him, the high collar of his colorful cloak that stretched behind his white bleached head making him seem larger than he actually was.
As they stood before them, Crefar eyeing them all suspiciously and Duzz darting her head around, scared of every shadow, they made no move. Their robes and cloaks rustles in the chill stale wind that blew through the chamber, but not a bone on their bodies moved.
"So you say you two have been woken by a Hall of Heroes?" the thunderous rasping voice asked.
"Yes." Crefar nodded. "Thank you for mentioning that, actually. That was a point I wanted to make. We have been woken by a structure that falls into your jurisdiction, making us in a way your problem, if you get my meaning."
"Do not misunderstand," the voice continued. "We are but the remnants of a once glorious empire that held dominion over this country. This empire had collected the remains of past heroes and built the great Halls of Heroes to house them. Though the magic of these great necromancers of the past is within us, we only live on its grounds, so to say.
"We are what was left after the great necromantic wars. The scattered bodies of the defeated warriors made alive by the last blast of the resurrecting magic, cursed to roam the land, unable to die, existing in spite of life, rather than in coherence with it. So our comprehension of necromancy is limited."
"Okay. Well, you still are our best chance at getting some answers," Crefar would let himself be discouraged.
"We will answer yours to avoid confusion. Then, you will answer ours," the voice said, calmly.
"Fair enough. First of all, that Hall of Heroes. You said it was put up by the magic of those... necromancers, right?"
"The mages of the Necromantic Empire set up outposts in all outer parts of their domain and looking into the future, they made these outposts alive with magic, even though they only housed the dead. It was done so that at any time, help could be reached by anyone living in the area, who had knowledge of the place," the voice explained. "The Halls of Heroes are such outposts, safeguarding the outer areas of the long-fallen realm. We have no knowledge how many of them have survived, but there were many."
"Right. So there's nobody controlling it. It's just an automaton." Crefar guessed.
"It is set in motion by the wills of those who come near. And once it is active, it acts according to the will of the heroes residing there."
"Well, damn. So there is nobody commanding the buildings? No one being we can ask to finish what they started? Because that is what we are, in a way. Unfinished. We are here as minds and souls, but we are not here as bodies," Crefar lamented.
"No one as such," the voice responded.
"What do you mean?"
"We have answered enough," the voice concluded. "It is your turn to answer, now."
YOU ARE READING
The Hall of Heroes
Fantasy"It is not just a tale." the wise woman said calmly. "The Hall of Heroes exists. It is a tomb built by our ancestors that houses the remains of long dead heroes native to this mountain country. And through a certain ritual, those heroes can be calle...
