“There were fifteen of us at the beginning,” the disembodied voice explained. “One for each tower, each population centre. There was no talk of a Goddess when we formed the first council, we were just the wisest of the wealthiest women that called the nation home. We were just a collection of like-minded women who wanted to make our world a better place.”
Welsley sat cross-legged on the floor of the small chamber. A glass and a bottle of wine sat within arm’s reach. Three flickering torches rested on the chamber walls and provided her a comfortable light. She had returned to gather more information from the voice that claimed to be “the Goddess.” She already had her doubts about the trustworthiness of the Falson’s and the voice’s talk of betrayal had intrigued her.
“The Falson clan controlled the richest mines in the nation; silver, gold, and iron were all in abundance in the lands under their control,” the voice continued. “As egotistical as they were wealthy; they even named the region after themselves: Falson Peak. They were the strongest of the towers, any attempt to change the world would have been harder, maybe impossible, without their support. The Falson’s were not popular outside of their lands, however, so the matriarch took on a support role while I became the face of the movement.”
“It was a meaningless position for me. The council made the important decisions, anything that affected the nation as a whole would be discussed, debated, and voted upon by the council representatives. No one person, no one family would be allowed to determine the nation’s future direction. A glorious design: a nation ruled by the best and the brightest. But we needed to wrest control of the towers from their current occupants.”
“Surprisingly, Falson Peak wasn’t the first tower to change hands. It was the second, the first was Marton. I took it with relative ease, the mix of people from across the globe provided easy access to mercenary groups and weakened the control the rulers had over the population. The exposure to so many cultures and ideas had eroded the loyalty of the citizens and allowed us to transfer the tower into my hands with a minimal of life lost. It was after this that the first tales of miracles and divinity began to be attached to my person.”
“Falson Peak fell within days of Marton. I had sent some of my troops to help other towers as we tried to solidify our control of the nation. We were lucky. Our opponents fought as often among themselves as they did against us. It was slow, but we consistently gained ground. Except across the forest.”
“The towers on the far side of the forest were ruled by a single family. The three brothers fought relentlessly and kept our forces on the defensive. There were no roads through the forest and the towers could only be used to contact another tower. News was slow in coming, by the time we received any it was too late. Our forces had been routed, two of the three council members who led the forces had been killed. We seemed to have lost the towers.”
“I had amassed a number of victories during this time which had earned me the reputation of being unbeatable. It was so pervasive among the people that I had begun to believe it myself. When news of our defeat came I quickly gathered my troops and marched them through the woods. We caught the brothers unaware and had captured the tower of Ravensbrook. In one quick swoop we had gained a foothold and mustering point on the nation’s far side. It was the last victory we would see in that region.”
“We lost battle after battle and eventually found ourselves trapped behind the tower walls. Every attempt to break the siege failed. The promised reinforcements didn’t arrive. It was only a matter of time before we fell. Unknown to me at the time, the Falson’s had decided to sacrifice me while they consolidated their power. They had already begun to spread the myth of the Sister.”
The room fell into silence. Welsley waited for the voice to continue. When the silence dragged on into discomfort she spoke, “And that was when you began to re-animate your dead.”
“The tower at Ravensbrook has an immense library devoted to ancient and dark arts,” the voice explained. “We were facing defeat. Alone. Left to die. I had grown desperate. After I stumbled across the necromantic texts I realized I had a chance to turn the tide. To cheat destiny.”
“It worked. The siege was broken. Our numbers swelled after each battle won or lost. Before too long my undead legions had laid siege to both of the desert towers but it could not strike the killing blow. I had turned the tide of battle and yet couldn’t claim the towers.”
“The libraries at Ravensbrook contained texts that explored more than just necromancy. There were examinations of magics of all flavours and colours. Within this collection of papers there was a ritual that promised control over the desert sands. It was better, in my opinion, to bury the towers than leave them in the hands of our enemies.”
“Understandable,” Welsley replied. “Were you aware of the cost?”
“There is always a price with magic,” the voice answered, “I just didn’t realize how steep it would be. It drained the life from everything around the tower and trapped me within… undying. The desert had swallowed the other towers but I was no longer free to roam the world.”
“But you send the dead at us to wreck havoc?” Welsley accused.
“I will never allow the Falson’s to forget their betrayal of me,” the voice spat.
“Fair enough,” Welsley agreed. She hesitated a moment and then began to relate her life since the arrival of the ghouls.