The last necromancer chapter 1 (please read and comment)

Ch.1

 Lake Leviathan

A hooded figure strode purposefully towards the shimmering lake. His black travelling cloak swirled protectively around him like a thick fog. The golden emblem of a crescent moon glimmered in the moonlight. This was a well known symbol, though not commonly seen, for it was the insignia of the necromancers, an ancient clan of wizards, thought to have died out in the old war. The necromancer, for this, we now know is what he was, muttered an indiscernible sequence of unknown words and stepped backwards from the lake, as if something massive was about to explode from its surface and shower him in water. But instead, a tiny wooden boat bobbed up lazily from under the water, barely creating a ripple in the vast surface of the lake. The man climbed carefully into the old wooden boat and sat down. There was a jerk and the boat glided forwards, cutting through the water as smoothly as if it were air. The boat stopped when it reached a small island in the middle of the lake with an old stone tower seemingly about to topple over into the water, for it was leaning at a highly irregular angle. The man climbed cautiously out of the boat, but as his foot made contact with the muddy ground, he gasped in confused pain. The man doubled over, coating his cloak in disgusting brown mud. As he regained his breath and managed to muster the strength to pull himself laboriously upright, he realised what had happened. On this island, in the middle of Lake Leviathan, he could not use magic. There was an invisible barrier preventing him from casting spells. Although, this was good, the man thought optimistically, brushing off the mud which had stuck to his cloak with disgust. If this was all they had to prevent him getting the heartstone, it was going to be a lot easier than he had previously thought. His strength returned to him quickly, and by the time he reached the foot of the tower, the man was feeling as strong as he had been before he had set foot on the island, albeit a little drowsiness. The door creaked open and the necromancer flinched suddenly at the painfully high pitched sound. He cautiously crept through the strangely-shaped doorway, anticipating another trap. Nothing happened. A sly smile slowly formed on his experienced face, as he realised that the magical barrier was the only thing between him and the elusive heartstone. The sudden loss of magic which he had just experienced would cripple most elemental wizards, but not the necromancers. They had been trained not to always use magic, In case of such a situation where they couldn’t fight with magic. The man smiled as he ran up the cracked spiral staircase, as excited as a child on Christmas day. The heartstone was finally his! The stone staircase stopped climbing abruptly at the top of the tower. The man, gasping for breath, surveyed his surroundings. He was stood in a small, one-windowed room. It was empty, save one thing. A tiny old marble font, filled up to the brim with water. The water was giving off an alluring bluish glow, which seemed to brighten as the man stepped into the room. There was a small stone, no larger than a grown man’s fist, resting peacefully in the blue water.  He couldn’t wait any longer. This was finally it! The heartstone was his at last! He let out a cold laugh and plunged his hand deep into the tiny bowl. His hand closed around the heartstone, and it resurfaced triumphantly, clutching it tightly. The heartstone was, unsurprisingly, shaped like a heart. But not the sort of heart that you find on valentine’s cards, it was carved with expertise into the shape of a human heart.

Deep underneath the lake, something awakened. Something evil. It let out a screech like the scratching of sharpened nails upon a blackboard, and rushed upwards, towards the lakes surface.

The necromancer steadied himself upon the stone font, for the whole island on which he was standing shook dangerously, threatening to uproot the tower in which he was standing. For the first time in his quest to retrieve the heartstone, he felt afraid, although he could not figure out exactly why. The man resolved to leave as soon as possible, to escape this feeling of dread continually pressing down upon him. The necromancer descended the cracked stone steps quickly, his cloak billowing out behind him. As he ran through the wooden door which he had opened minutes earlier, he began to slow down. He realised that he was just being paranoid and there was no danger whatsoever. Suddenly, a shower of water exploded from the lake. A massive snake-like creature stared at the man, its crimson red eyes staring right into him. The necromancer slowly drew his sword from a sheath tied to his belt. The creature, which he had now identified as a Leviathan, shot towards him like a speeding bullet. The man only just managed to jump out of the way before its head slammed into the damp ground on which he had been standing moments before. The necromancer sprinted towards its head, which was partially underground, for it had hit the earth with so much brute force that it had buried itself. The necromancer leapt agilely into the cold air. Even without his magic, he could still jump at least five feet. He landed on the leviathans head, dislodging a few scales as he ran up its uneven spine. The creature finally managed to rip its head out of the ground. It twisted and shook like mad, trying to make the man fall off, but it was unsuccessful. The necromancer plunged his sword into the leviathan, making blood spurt out of the wound. It screamed. The man didn’t care about the pain which he inflicted, as long as he was the one who finished alive. He ran back up the monsters spine, cutting it here and there in the places which would inflict most pain. He reached the head eventually, and with a deep breath, plunged the sword into its skull. Its screaming slowly ceased as his sword penetrated its brain. The man jumped off its head and landed lightly on the ground below, making sure he was still holding the heartstone. He was relatively out of breath, but otherwise unscathed. The man climbed into the wooden boat which, strangely had survived his encounter with the leviathan. He climbed into it, and smiled as his magic flooded slowly back to him. The boat stopped at the shore of the lake, and the necromancer climbed out. He had beaten the leviathan, which would have killed most men within a few seconds. What made it an even more extraordinary feat was that he had done it all without magic. The necromancer smiled with genuine happiness as he disappeared into the whispering night.