Chapter 9a: A Duke’s Dilemma

"The laws of man, rules society places upon itself to call itself civilized, different from the other creatures of nature. Justice and fairness. These don't apply in the real world, the world outside of man's control. What should the world be like without the laws of man, only following the chaotic laws of nature, of the beasts of the wild?"

~Dokkien the Wise

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Wellan’s long strides ate up the distance as he traveled to the war room to meet with Duke Renier. Exhaustion threatened to take him over, but he had to tell the Duke about the fall of his city, a fall that the Duke would take hard.

Wellan had exhausted most of his powers in the battle at the open market, leaving smoldering corpses in his wake. Still the dead had continued to come from every corner of the market, flowing in from the nearby homes like a flood of ants taking down prey. He knew that he fought a battle he couldn’t win, so he ran, fleeing back to the castle walls. The undead swarmed to every side of him, stumbling out of the forest and into the road, when he felt the mystical energy being released. Its power radiated across his skin like a puff of air full of sand. He couldn’t ignore the feeling. Wellan changed his path to run through the woods, side-stepping the shambling forms, and see what had caused the phenomena.

He hadn’t traveled far when he came upon the Lady Rachelle, lying in the middle of the street. The undead closing in around her. An ember of magic that only he could see smoldered in the palm of her hand, a blue coal of slowly fading energy. A brightly clad woman kneeled over a half-conscious man. He fought to stand against legs that wouldn’t support him.

Without hesitation, Wellan hurled bursts of flaming power, using the last of his stored energy on the mob of undead. Some burst into flame while others fell back from the heat and force of the concussions. He ran to Rachelle, scooped her into his arms. With a scowl of determination he turned to the man and woman bellowing, “Come with me.”

Neither argued, the woman held the man upright, helping him walk, and followed the wizard to the castle gates. The dead shuffled slowly behind in pursuit.

It didn't take long to outdistance the shambling corpses and reach the front gate. The nervous guard had the gates open before they reached him, as just as quickly closed them again when the group had passed under the wall. Wellan didn't bother to look at the man as he said, "Make sure that door stays shut and don't let anyone else through."

"My Lord wizard, what if someone..."

A hand pushed through the small gate window, reaching in and slapping the back of the guard's armor in a pathetic attempt to pull him to the gate. The man lept forward and turned to the gate, sword half drawn.

"What the bloody hell..."

Wellan stopped just long enough to turn and nod his head at the bloody, bite riddled arm and say, "That's all there is out there. Make sure they stay on that side of the wall."

With the gate taken care of, Wellan and his companions walked to Castle Renier, where he had found the remaining castle servants huddled together in the main entrenceway, waiting to hear what was happening to their beloved city.

Wellan didn't answer any of their questions. He didn't know how. Instead he handed them Madame Rachelle and told them to take care of her and the injured man. It would give them something to do to take their mind off of the civilization collapsing around them.

As Wellan pushed open the heavy wooden doors of the War room, he wondered about the condition of Rachelle and what had cause the outburst of power. He would find out later, when time allowed. For now, he had to meet with his Duke.

Duke Renier looked up from a map on the great oak table as Wellan walked through the open door of the war room. The Duke looked angry and tired, giving him the appearance of a much older man. A middle aged guard also straightened and stared at the wizard, fear and self doubt evident in his wide eyes.

“That will be all, General Rancor.”

The young man almost stumbled over his own feet as he tried to choose between saluting the Duke and leaving the room. He performed a clumsy combination of both, backing out of the room and past the wizard.

When the man disapeared through the door, Wellan turned to the Duke and frowned. “General Rancor?”

Duke Renier sighed, shaking his head. “He’s the highest ranking...living soldier I’ve been able to find. A hell of a promotion too, from major to general in one fell swoop.” He stooped over the table again, his shoulders bunched in rage. “What are we to do, Wellan? In just a few short hours this…this plague has swept through my city, killing residents without mercy. Dead! Dead for only an hour or so and then they are back. Back to…to…”

His head turned to face Wellan, eyes red and glossy. “Some died right here in the castle. Here in my own home. We tried to find help, but even as we did, they came back. Not as the men they were, but as maniacs, intent on killing…and eating those they killed!”

Wellan remained quiet, letting his friend speak, allowing him to release some of the anger and frustration that filled his soul. “I had to kill my own men, Wellan. I had to kill them with the very sword that is sworn to protect them. I had to order the rest of my men, the ones who weren’t afflicted, to kill their comrades, to throw any dead victims over the walls. Is this what my city has come to? Is this where I have led my people?” He looked down at the table again and brought a hand up to wipe his eyes. A sob shook his shoulders. “Is this what I’ve done with the responsibility that I’ve been entrusted with, my friend?”

Wellan grasped the Dukes shoulder and squeezed gently. His voice shook as he whispered, “No, my friend. This was unavoidable, an unprovoked attack. There was no way to know that it would happen, and no way to defend against it.”

Duke Renier lifted his head and stared at the far wall, his voice hardening with resolve. “What are you saying, Wellan? Who attacked my city, my people?” His gaze locked onto the wizard's.

Wellan returned his stare. “I don’t know, my lord, but this has the stench of necromancy all about it. I fought those creatures by the Open Market almost an hour ago, and I could feel the dark power radiating from their souls. This is no natural disease. It's a thing of darkness and magic.”