The Dropped Anchor
A Story of Segrus the Necromancer
The field was filled with rubble, and shattered wood, and was owned by no one save the golem who conquered it. This wrecked space had been sought as a foothold by other forces in the region, yet they had abandoned it and dared not intrude on its current despot. Animated by a soul who now laid crushed flat above many other trampled, the hardened obsidian monster paced violently on the bodies of its victims as one without a master. And with the loss of its summoner the golem inherited the field for as long as its magical strength endured.
Despite abiding unchallenged, it pounded the ground with the defiance of a caged animal. Boulder arms and legs abraded on their mineral ligaments with each lumbering movement, the sound of which grated in horrible cacophony. It invaded the ears in reverberation with a sense of danger until the sound drowned out the world. As it neared, though, the slopping sound of stone pulled from wet mud was still loud enough.
A determined traveler stood astride the barrier marked by the upheaval of the monster. While his height drew him to less than half the wandering rock’s height, he still presented himself for the fight. The golem’s domain ran afoul his path through the wood and plains, and bore the distinct air of unnatural life. Whether cursed or clinging to this plane with abnormal persistence, whatever link that granted the disturbed earth animus needed to be broken. It was increasingly obscene to him, and deep in his gut a terrific urge swelled up the need for rectification.
Normally garbed in a square, hooded mantle which covered most of his form, Segrus had hung most of his gear beyond where the monster could reach. Only his long dagger stayed with him in hand. He inspected the area all around and studied, when he could, the gate of the rock. If it maintained what he had already seen, the golem would be capable of outpacing him on straight paths. Segrus guessed he would need to be unencumbered by his cloak for avoiding attacks.
The plan he formulated was uncomplicated. Segrus would find and sever whatever will allowed the golem to cling to life. Somewhere underfoot, lost long before he arrived, a body laid patiently for a full end at his hand.
Cautiously he hovered at the edge of the golem’s boundary for any sign it would sense his presence from crossing. He had waited for it to occupy a portion of the field away from him, not further in distance than two houses lined end-to-end, and then observed until he was satisfied. He would not join the corpses he clearly saw in the squelched red mud.
Segrus crept slowly into the arena and approached his first target, one he had identified from the time spent preparing: a warrior still clad in iron. The body had the look of a footsoldier of Dorn, a kingdom several days journey to the southeast, due to a simple beast pattern on the chest piece. A missing arm and torn side told as much of a story as Segrus intended to learn.
With this spot remaining in relative safety, Segrus the Necromancer touched the lolled head of the solder and brought it back to life.
The soldier rose slowly under Segrus’ command, and dragged every limb into a standing posture. Carcass features expressed no understanding of its prior lifetime or its current reanimation as fodder for the task. It awaited instruction ceaselessly.
Segrus knew the corpse would be incapable of harassing the golem long and would need to work quickly. He sent his footsoldier close to the boundary of the field with a word. At this new position, the corpse then began to throw stones and sticks with the arm it still possessed.
In fierce reaction the golem raced quicker than Segrus could have expected to the corpse. Sickening noise filled the air from the golem’s effort to confront an intruder. Without waiting to see the result, Segrus dashed as close to the center of the field as he could manage. He realized he would need to act on instinct to overcome the golem and steel his resolve against the sound of sure death.
Near the center, the ground was awash with mashed people. It had not been clear to Segrus from afar how filled with pieces the golem’s throne was crowned. Battlefields contained as many, although significantly more intact. The field was no longer a field; it had been transformed into a bog of wrenching smell.
Segrus scanned the ground for any sign of a body complete enough to act as an anchor for the golem. All of the bodies in dense concert clouded his attempt. The muck held arms twisted around pulverized legs, torsos were stretched from flattening, and discolored bones in layers were sunken in the ground. Crushed eye sockets stared up to witness.
Din drummed up from the golem had long ceased, and Segrus stopped looking at the ground to face it. Rocks abnormally piled onto rocks to form a two-legged, two-armed creature stood still at its boundary near the corpse he reanimated. He could feel its eyeless gaze on him in the form of incredible menace. The sun’s shadow on its hulk created a likeness of a toothless smile.
Then he saw past the huge upright rock at the corpse under his command. It was unharmed, unperturbed by its unresponsive victim. The golem, beyond explanation for a monster without sentience, was mocking him. It gave Segrus the chance knowing failure would be the conclusion. It rushed deliberately to accelerate Segrus to the center and far from safety with the intelligence above its capability.
Segrus pushed the growing terror to the back of his mind, as he had with the disgust of his boots and leggings being covered in people. Forcing his hand down until it touched, he poured his necromancy into everything below him and ran.
Immediately the ground squirmed with action. He spread his power as far as he could in an instant. Disconnected hands fumbled around at their surroundings and legs wormed in place. It was all Segrus could do to try to slow down the golem and with more time he may have been capable of mounting a defensive wall strong enough to withstand rock blows. The golem barreled through in chase with a force which ignored the mounted resistance.
Golem pursued and man darted. They both aimed for their target until it seemed the golem won. Segrus could feel the deadly, hulking presence close bearing down on him. Even if he lunged at the edge of its allowance, he knew a long reach would rob him midair. He made a choice and threw himself to the side in hope the huge mass would carry itself past him.
His maneuver came at a cost. Soaked boots slipped his footing and the golem’s leg threw him in a wild arc when it impacted. Segrus could feel the pain as it lashed his whole body. As he landed on the ground and rolled to his goal, alive, he was sure his leg and chest would need mended. If he survived with only deep bruises he would count it as a blessing.
The monster bounced him well out of its own reach even poised where it was to strike. It loomed without moving in what Segrus suspected was furious posture. In all the time he had been here this was the only time he saw the rock still. They both remained motionless until night fell and Segrus fell asleep exhausted.
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When Segrus awoke, the golem had moved to the center of its field. With great pain, he adjusted to a sitting position and again watched the new inert nature of the bonded boulders. The mystery of this place deepened before him, confounded him thoroughly.
Before he arrived he could hear the sound of it moving, yet now it ceased. Unlike a wild beast in a pen, it attacked with planning and patience. Nobody held its chain in place, neither in life nor as a jailer, nevertheless it stayed in its field precisely. Segrus felt increasingly baffled.
After the morning passed the Necromancer refreshed himself as much as possible on the travel supplies he brought, mostly dried meat and a pouch of water. His rest and the food gave him the strength to finish his journey, but he could not leave alone the problem of the golem. Now with the vigor to stand again, he could make one test for clues.
Segrus summoned up the spirits of remembrance, the ghosts of the dead. They would hold no substance or consciousness. Despite being only reflections of the past, Segrus hoped to watch each spirit act their out their death in morbid theater. Their deaths could teach him the origin of the golem.
A howl rose up. It rumbled as an evil storm until Segrus felt it deafen him, and it was matched by dark shadow building on the ground. The pale ghosts he relied upon seeing in the past was not what bubbled out of the corpses. A veil of illusion parted on what Segrus knew of the world and revealed something he could not comprehend.
Above him, the sky darkened to black. It looked as an ocean of many depths, each layer deepened in darkness and writhed with something impossible to focus on. Segrus could not stand to see it without intense fear ripping his otherwise unassaulted senses. Forever deep above and somehow equally pressing his face, the presence stabbed into his eyes and behind them when he dared look.
Segrus refocused on the ground to protect his humanity. Faces of humans were stretched from every spot of ground into open-mouthed screams towards the golem’s location. They met at the rock and then reached up straight to the sky as a single spun chord. He could see it pulled taut, stretched harshly between the obsidian golem and the presence.
The rest of the world faded away for the Necromancer. Even the pain of being attacked was less than a memory. He became consumed with desperation to destroy the horror which violated his person. In mindless frenzy he climbed up the curtain of the dead and atop the mountain. Astride the peak—chain above—dagger in hand—reality looked bowled all around as a teardrop surrounded by deep water.
His eyes stared down at the glowing eyes within the Golem, and it whispered mouthless words of desecration. Segrus then rent the profane connection and fell away from consciousness.
