Chapter 1: Beneath the Earth

Chapter 1: Beneath the Earth

2021 Maxime Julien Durand / Void Herald

All rights reserved. Maxime J. Durand is the exclusive owner of this book 'Underland'. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher. For permissions contact, send a mail at: [email protected]

Any perceived slights to specific people or organizations are unintentional.

Valdemar was raising the dead in the barns basement when the knights broke down the door.

He knew they were knights because of their metal footsteps above his head, and because his protective wards hadnt alerted him to their approach. This implied the presence of at least one magician, and local militias couldnt employ spellcasters.

The Dark Lords would never allow it. Just as they didnt allow Valdemar to practice magic in peace.

Unfortunately, though he was no stranger to escaping from the law, the necromancer didnt have time to flee these imperial lap dogs. He had already started the ritual and wouldnt back down.

Valdemar had invested too much in this project to stop now. He had spent years of his life fruitlessly trying to decode his grandfathers journal, consorting with criminals to get his hands on banned occult texts, studying Derro technology to fill the gaps in his spell he knew it would work, if only people would just let him work in peace!

An otherworldly crimson light illuminated the dark basement, as the young warlocks blood circle radiated with necromantic energy. A pyramidal, ox-sized machine of Valdemars design stood at its center, a pedestal of metal plates and pipes holding a triangular glass container. His late grandfathers old, black journal rested inside it, working as a focus to summon what remained of the owners soul.

Or at least, that was the idea, but the spell demanded more. More power, more life.

So Valdemar, who had already lightly cut his thumb open to draw the circle, dragged an athame dagger from under his black robes and slashed his left palm open. Blood poured down his pale skin, and he applied it to the circle. The magical symbol hungrily drank on his life fluid, while the machines pipes let out crimson steam. The knights had moved right above his head, the wooden planks creaking below their feet as they moved towards the basements trapdoor.

Stop this foul sorcery at once! One of them called from above, but Valdemar ignored the order.

A translucent, greenish ectoplasm had started to form inside the glass and above the journal. The ghostly matter rushed through multiple shapes in quick succession as it gained strength, its surface so smooth and polished that Valdemar could see his own gaunt reflection on it. The necromancers short, messy white hair bristled from the ambient magic, and his ghost grey eyes had turned bloody red.

I was right! Valdemar grinned, as the ectoplasm coalesced into the shape of a skull. My ritual works!

Every illegal spellcaster Valdemar had met had told him that it was impossible, and yet here he had proved them all wrong! He had pushed beyond the boundaries of magic!

The sorcerer heard the trap door shatter behind him, and looked over his shoulder as lanterns cast light into the basement. A warrior in plate armor took a step down the stairs, the conical-shape of his helmet and the golden links around his neck identifying him as a Knight of the Chain. He carried a blue lantern in his left hand, and a sword in the right.

Valdemar Verney, the knight uttered with a deep, bellowing voice. Cease this spell at once!

Dont go down the stairs! Valdemar warned him. Though he disliked knights, he didnt want them to die either. I trapped them so as not to get interrupted! If you trigger my spell, I cant stop

Unfortunately, the hotblooded inquisitor ignored the warlock, and accidentally activated the hidden summoning array hidden beneath the steps.

A flash of violet light erupted from beneath the wooden stairs, and green tentacles surged from beneath them. They caught the knights legs by surprise and slammed the surprised warrior against the basements wall. The beast had fallen upon him before he could even raise his sword, and his lantern shattered on the ground, the ghostly fire within extinguished.

You fool! Valdemar angrily scolded the knights. I cant control it after its summoned!

The monster that emerged from beneath the stairs was larger than a beast of burden, a writhing mass of tentacles with a single, loathsome red-rimmed eye at its center. Lamprey-like mouths opened all over the eldritch beings limbs and attempted to reach the knights flesh beneath his armor.

A Gnawer! Hes a summoner! The captive knight shouted, before letting out a scream. A tentacle had twisted his sword-arm, and another violently struck his helmet. Gnawers were the weakest and stupidest of the Qlippoth extra-dimensional entities, but still far stronger than any normal human.

Unfortunately, these monsters only sought to feed after being called to the material world. The best Valdemar could do was to exclude himself from the menu when he set the summoning array.

Release him! Valdemar ordered just in case, but his summoned attack dog summarily ignored the order. Oh well, I tried, the sorcerer thought as he focused back on his ritual.

He could always interrupt his ritual and magically dismiss the Qlippoth back to its home dimension, but that meant a quick arrest and the destruction of his machine. Valdemar didnt wish to add the maiming or death of a knight to his already existing list of crimes but his work was too important.

Besides, he was already bound for prison, what was one more crime? In the end, his success would excuse everything.

While the knight struggled against the Qlippoth, the ectoplasmic skull beneath the glass started to grow ethereal skin and hair. At long last, Valdemar recognized the old, wizened face of his maternal grandfather.

Grandpa, its me, Val, the warlock whispered. Come back to us

Two more knights jumped into the basement to help their struggling comrade; another Knight of the Chain, and a figure wearing the purple pointy hat and cloak of the Knights of the Tome over their armor. The latter didnt carry either a weapon or a lantern, and didnt need them.

Begone, monster! The Knight of the Tome shouted at the Gnawer with a high-pitched female voice, her hands shining with a crimson light. The flash forced the eldritch monster to release its prey, allowing the two Knights of the Chain to hack its tentacles with their sharp blades. Begone!

To Valdemars horror, the light of her spell started interfering with his ritual as well. His grandfathers ectoplasm flickered, the machines pipes thrummed like a beating metal heart.

Stop! he shouted at the inquisitors, as the ectoplasmic face beneath the glass started degrading back into a skull. Your spell interferes with mine!

As his blood fueled the circle, Valdemar raised his free hand and dagger at the Knight of the Tome. He sensed her magical defenses flare to life, as he attempted to establish a mental connection with the blood flowing beneath her skin. Fortunately, she was a middling spellcaster and too busy focusing on her own spell.

You are strong in the Blood, Verney, but you cannot hope The Knight of the Tome never finished her sentence, as Valdemar telekinetically slammed her against a wall. This disrupted her magic, but not quickly enough to save the Gnawer from a sword strike in the eye. The monster dissipated into eldritch smoke, and the remaining knights immediately charged at Valdemar.

They tackled him against his machine before he could retaliate with a spell, and forced his bloody hand away from the summoning circle. The necromancers shoulder hit a metal pipe, while his magical symbol shrank into nothingness. The absence of a blood source disrupted the spell.

My ecto-catcher! Valdemar panicked in despair while one of the knights twisted his dagger out of his hand and another slammed his face against the machinery. No!

But the damage was done. The glass container cracked while the ectoplasmic skull within screeched, its ghostly substance evaporating.

Within seconds, the blood circle vanished and the ectoplasm dissipated into green smoke.

Years of efforts and sacrifices, gone!

Valdemar let out a roar of despair and fury, as a Knight of the Chain put fanged shackles around his hands. The warlock sensed sharp teeth digging into his flesh and sucking his blood like leeches. He tried to telekinetically toss his attackers backward, but as more of his already depleted life fluid abandoned him, so did his magical might.

Fucking cultist, one of the Knights of the Chain said while hauling Valdemar away from his device. When will your kind learn?

Im not a cultist, you judgmental moron, Valdemar protested. In response, the knight pointed at his black robes and the bloody dagger on the floor, to the warlocks annoyance. I was so close to bringing him back! You ruined everything!

The noblewomans lips twisted in clear distaste. I will have no torture on my watch, she said. Remove the mask.

The Knight of the Tome slipped a key into the device, allowing Valdemar to move his jaw. He breathed through his mouth for the first time in what felt like years.

The blonde woman observed him for a few seconds, before politely introducing herself. I am Marianne Reynard. I represent Lord Och, the Dark Lord of Paraplex.

Lord Och. The oldest magician in the Empire, the third most powerful, and the supreme master of the Knights of the Tome. Wonderful. Valdemar wondered if this woman had come to order his execution in person on behalf of her dark master, or to send him to the mines.

How did you Valdemars throat felt sore, and he struggled to articulate words. The chemicals in his body made him tired, so very tired. Catch me?

The warden snorted. Were the ones asking the questions here, mongrel.

How did you catch him? Lady Marianne asked softly, to the knights puzzlement.

We caught his Derro tech supplier, Armand of Mantebois, the warden said with a shrug. He sold out all his customers for a lighter sentence.

Did you kill him? The prisoner rasped, the knight shaking his head in response. Good, that meant Valdemar could murder that traitor himself if he ever managed to get out of here. If Armands betrayed associates didnt get to him first.

I have questions for you, Mr. Verney, said Lady Marianne.

You already took everything from me... even my notes. Even his grandpas journal. What more do you need?

Clarifications, the woman replied, moving her gloved hands behind her back. Our researchers have studied your device, and from what they gathered, you were trying to revive a lost soul using a ritual of your own creation.

Valdemar kept quiet, which the noblewoman took as an invitation to carry on with her blabbering.

What bothers our spellcasters, however, is that your spell contains no sign of necromantic magic, she said. You used conjuration instead. A summoning circle. It is well-known that all attempts at summoning souls from the afterlife have ended in disastrous failure, and yet witnesses affirm that you successfully called an ectoplasm of some kind.

I wasnt trying to summon my grandfathers soul. Valdemars own experimentations had shown that if there was a way to break the Veil between Underland and the afterlife, it would need far more blood and resources than he would ever get his hands on. I was trying to create an... echo.

His interrogator frowned in confusion. An echo?

Valdemar was sorely tempted to stay quiet and let her figure it out by herself, before deciding otherwise. If these people truly wanted an answer, they would have the Knights of the Mind steal it from his brain.

Besides, maybe a far-sighted mage could use the knowledge to pick up where Valdemar left off. The prisoner doubted it, but hope was all he had left at this point.

Souls leave a psychic imprint where they go... especially in their most precious earthly possessions, he explained. The journal had been his grandfathers lifework, his constant companion since he mysteriously landed in Underland. My plan was to gather that that remnant of psychic energy into an artificial ectoplasmic body... the way some extra-dimensional creatures manifest one to interact with our reality.

So you tried to create an artificial ghost? Lady Marianne asked, the captive warlock nodding in confirmation. To her credit, she seemed to grasp the concept. I see. You used your own blood as its anchor to the material plane, since you were the deceaseds last living relative.

Yes. My ecto-catcher device would have prevented the specter from dissipating. Valdemar would have crafted a golem to house his grandsires replica if he could, but the material had proven too expensive. I knew the construct wouldnt have been my grandfathers soul but an echo but I hoped that he would remember some things from his past life.

For what purpose?

Because I wanted to see my family again, what else? Valdemar thought. And because I couldnt fully decode the journal on my own. I had... questions about his home.

The more he spoke, the deeper Lady Mariannes frown. His home?

Valdemar sneered. You wont believe me... youll call me mad.

Nobody believed him. At best, open-minded people entertained the truth without truly accepting it. At worst they laughed, or accused him of being a cultist. By now, Valdemar knew better than to open his mouth.

I cant believe your words if I dont hear them first, Lady Marianne argued, trying to put him at ease. Valdemar couldnt figure her out for the life of him. I will not judge.

She would. But in the end What did Valdemar have to lose? He was already doomed.

My grandfather is not of this world. He came from another place. Another world that still has a sun in the skies. And he had spent the rest of his life trying to go home, without ever succeeding. On his deathbed, Valdemar had promised to pick up where he had left. I wanted more information about it. To open a portal.

Lady Mariannes expression turned into a blank, unreadable mask, while the knights behind her exchanged a glance. What was that worlds name? the warden asked.

Earth, Valdemar replied.

A short silence followed.

And then the knights burst out laughing, to Valdemars silent rage. Only Lady Marianne remained serious, her gaze thoughtful.

Earth, like the dirt? the warden asked with a mocking chuckle. You cultists couldnt find a better name for your pipe paradise?

Earth exists, you close-minded moron, Valdemar said angrily, when he couldnt take the laughter anymore. Somehow the rage made him stronger, dissipating the chemical-induced haze. And one day I will find it. A land with a clear blue sky and where the sun

Still shines, yes Ive heard those words before, the warden cut him off dismissively. Youll prove nothing, you madman. If youre lucky youll spend the rest of your life and undeath toiling in the mines. Or maybe well burn you. Its been a while since we put oil on the pyre, and the kids love the fireworks.

No, Lady Marianne said softly. Release him.

The knights stopped chuckling, while Valdemar blinked in surprise. Milady? the warden asked in confusion.

Release him, Lady Marianne ordered, this time more firmly. Hes going to the Domain of Paraplex with me.

Milady, you cannot be serious? This time, the warden didnt bother to hide his displeasure. Hes a cultists spawn, a bastard brood, and a criminal. You heard him, hes deluded.

These are Lord Ochs orders, Lady Marianne replied, her words sending chills down Valdemars spine. The Dark Lord wants to interrogate him personally.

He has read the journal, the prisoner realized, half with hope and half with dread. And if he believed even half of it...

Maybe Valdemar would get to see the sun one day after all...