Chapter 2

"Norcross' warhost has arrived", said the servant in its usual dry, emotionless voice.

Narayan didn't react immediately to the news. He was lost deep in his own thoughts, as he always used to be at the twilight. It was his sacred hour of the day, when he used to go to the southern tower of the castle - his castle - to spend some time with himself, staring at the horizon until the Blood Moon started to rise in the starless sky. Always alone. His servants had orders not to disturb him - except if something important was coming up around the city.

And the arrival of the greatest of Underworld's warhosts was an event important enough.

"Spoils?", he asked, without turning to the demon behind him.

"Gold", the servant answered. "A lotta gold. And many slaves. No books nor knowledge, as far as I know."

Narayan sighed, somehow frustrated.

"Nothing new, then."

"Not exactly", turned the demonic servant, now with some mystery hidden in his words.

This caught the attention of the necromancer, who immediately turned to the servant.

"What do you mean, not exactly?", he asked, aproaching the demon.

"The slaves. There's an angel among them. Must have been wounded in the battle or somethin'."

The answer made Narayan think. Curious thing, an angel, in the heart of the Underworld. Not usual - as far as he could remember, the angels would rather kill themselves than let them be taken as prisoners, slaves, whatever. Something must have gone wrong for that soul, he thought.

"Where's Norcross now?", he asked, almost guessing the answer.

"In the Hall of Tombs, as ever", was the demon's natural answer. Whenever a warlord returned from a campaign on Earth, he would lead the warhost to Nitramneadh's central square, in order to divide the spoils of war - better saying, to sell them -, and to slay some slaves for the population's amusement. This time the show would be different. When an angel was captured, she wasn't sold as any other slave; instead, she was mutilated, raped several times, and given as a gift to another warlord, as a sign of good will and, sometimes, as seal to a new alliance. Then she would become the warlord's personal slave - sexual slave, for what is worth. This time should not be different.

* * *

The Hall of Tombs was overcrowded, as if the whole Nitramneadh was concentraded in the square. Nothing out of ordinary - the arrival of a triumphant warlord deserved celebration, and celebration in the Underworld meant a great circus, where spoils and slaves were sold, prisoners fought demon gladiators until one's death (the prisoner's for sure), and slaves immolated to the light of the great Tower. Everybody in the city was invited. This time, however, was different - an angel has been captured, which meant a rare show that no soul in Nitramneadh would miss for nothing. After all, it was all about the Underworld's hated enemy for countless millennia. The opportunity to see a small personal vendetta would be at least fun for anyone in this world.

The stage had been set up in the middle of the Hall of Tombs, in front of the Tower's sacred gate. The slaves who survived the Ridges stood there, looking to the croud of humans, demons and hybrids with fearful expressions. A small elite guard stood next to them, swords risen and ready to terminate any reckless - and useless - escape attempt. In the center of the stage, next to the torture table, stood the warlord Norcross.

He raised his right hand to the air, and the crowd became silent in a heartbeat. No one even dared to breath; Norcross, the greatest warlord, was about to speak.

"Once again the armies of Nitramneadh invaded the mortal's land and returned victorious", he shouted to the croud, his loud voice echoing through the streets of black volcanic stone. "Once again we have spoiled theis lands, burned their cities, slew their children, stole their gold. Once again we brough them for the hell they despised since the beginning of times."

Norcross stopped for a while. No surprises. The crowd listened to his speech, fascinated. He smiled.

"This time", he continued, "Mil'Garion sent an army of their own to fight us. They tried to save what could never be saved. They tried to stop the unstoppable. They tried to stand in our way, and their wings have been clipped, their voices have been silenced, their blood have been spoiled - for no one, not even the angels, shall stand in Norcross' way!"

Norcross' declaration of unmatched power echoed like a thunder across the whole city. Then he turned back to the slaves, grabbed the angel violently, and threw her to the front of the stage.

"This", he said, approaching the fallen angel, "is what is left of their army of light!"

Some kind of hysteria spread through the crowd, arms risen to the air, yelling hurrays to their great warlord.

"And now", Norcross shouted back, for the crowd's excitement, "we will have revenge!"

He grabbed the angel's left arm, lifting her with anger, and threw her again, that time next to the torture's table. She fell again, defenceless, blood tears running free through her pale face. Norcross wasted no time. Coming back for her, he took an heavy axe from one of his guards and grabbed one of the angel's radiant wings. She tried to struggle, but the chains around her fists and legs didn't let her move.

"Does anyone here have something to say about this?", he asked the crowd, raising the axe to cut the angel's wounded wing.

"Cut! Cut! Cut!", the crowd shouted back, in delirium.

"I have.", said another voice, loud enough to be listened among the almost hysterical shouts.

An heavy silence fell in a heartbeat. Not even a breathe could be heard. Everybody in the square - slaves, civilians, warriors, warlords, even Norcross himself - turned to see who dared speak against the whole city, against the warlord's Council, against the triumphant warlord.

On the threshold of the Hall of Tombs' Eastern Gate stood Narayan, with two servants behind him, watching with undeniable amusement the crowd's surprise.

"I have something to say about this", he said.

The grave silence remained.

Norcross lowered the axe and released the angel's wing. With a sigh he turned to the necromancer.

"Very well", he said, defiant. "Speak."

"You won't kill her", Narayan said, for everyone's surprise.

Norcross laughed nervously. "I won't? And who the hell do you think you are to say that? Who the hell do you think you are to interrupt our ritual?"

"I am the Rogue Necromancer", he answered simply.

Then Narayan started to walk in the stage's direction. The compacted crowd opened almost instantaneously a passageway for him, fearing his dark powers more than anything else. He reached the stage and, with no hesitation, climbed its stairs until he was right in front of Norcross titanic figure.

"She is coming with me. I have gold enough here to pay for her", he said, making a signal to one of his servants, who placed at the warlord's feet two huge sacs of gold. Then he continued, a touch of irony in his voice as he mentioned the crowd."And to pay for their sad disapointment. If you think it is not enough, you may think about the black magic I give to your weapons. I think it's fair enough."

Norcross incinerated the necromancer with his devilish eyes, feeling the anger running through her veins. He would smash him right away - what a delicious thought. But it was a thought, and no more. He needed Narayan, more than the necromancer actually needed him. His warhost was the most powerful because of his black magic. There was nothing he could do but try to argue a little more.

"Take your gold. They want me to cut her wings. Then you can take her with you."

"I don't care about what they want", turned Narayan with despair. "I am buying a slave, and I don't want mutilated slaves. She is coming with me now, and her wings will come with her."

A sound of protest suddenly crawled through the square. No one particularly liked the necromancer, and no one liked to see the celebrations spoiled by him.

Narayan didn't even have to say anything. He just turned back and face the crowd. That was enough for the rumour to disappear as fast as it had started moments before. Then he turned to the other servant, who grabbed the angel's chains. They made their walk back through the angry and fearful crowd, leaving behind Norcross, almost bursting with anger.