Lost in Revery

by Matthew Phillion

  Morgan shook his head.

  “Our first priority is our friends,” he said.

  “Of course,” Murtok said. “They’ll be brought to the patriarch. Elves are… his favorite. You have time, if you move quickly.”

  “Great, they’re hors d’oeuvres,” Eriko said.

  “Can you take us to them,” Morgan said.

  “Can we trust this guy?” Cordelia interjected.

  Jack kicked his broken bow aside petulantly.

  “I don’t care. You’ll take us to Tamsin and Tobias. Our mage and bard. The elves,” he said. “That was really specific. Sorry.”

  “I know exactly where they’re going,” he said. “All I ask is you put down as many of the mindless ones as you can.”

  “The ones who didn’t speak,” Morgan asked.

  “Yes. They aren’t gaunts yet. Don’t feel pity for them—they have no memory of who they are. They simply hunger,” Murtok said. “They’re locusts. The world is better without them. Put their spirits to rest.”

  “What about you,” Cordelia asked. “Don’t you want your spirit to rest?”

  Murtok gave the half-orc a sad, quiet smile.

  “I’ve been here a long time,” he said. “I am very tired. But you’re adventurers. I see that in you. You know a world like this cannot exist without monsters. I don’t get to rest until the world doesn’t need monsters anymore.”

  He looked at Jack for a moment, and then slipped his extra bow from his back and handed it to him. Jack hesitated before accepting, but finally took the weapon. He turned it over in his hands. Beautifully crafted, with swirls and carvings on the haft made to look like dragon skin. As he examined it, he saw that, along the center, a band of dark metal ran through it, ending at each end in a vicious bladed tip.

  “This is… this is a beautiful weapon,” Jack said.

  “Its name is Dragon’s Breath,” Murtok said. “It’s enchanted, imbuing the arrows you release from it with arcane energy. And it is made to be used in melee if you’re caught up close. It’s built to be swung like a bladed staff. You won’t break it.”

  “I… I don’t know if I can accept this,” Jack said. “A named bow?”

  “I sense that you lost your weapon because I didn’t find you fast enough,” Murtok said. “And I’m asking you to hunt the walking dead. You’ll need it. And I’m very old, ranger. That’s one of many magical bows I can put my hands on when I need one. I can spare it.”

  Jack lifted the bow and, without nocking an arrow, pulled back the bowstring. He felt it grow hot beneath his fingertips.

  “Huh,” he said. The gaunt nodded to him, and Jack returned the gesture.

  “Unless you have any other fancy weapons to hand out, we should save our friends,” Cordelia said.

  Murtok nodded, lifting his hood up to cover his hairless head.

  “This way, then,” he said. “Follow me.”

  Chapter 10: Points in sleight of hand

  Tamsin wasn’t afraid. And that worried her.

  She was a worrier back in the real world. Not easily scared, but easily worried. About everything. Worrying was her thing, so to speak. And yet here, stuck in a makeshift cell in the subterranean lair of undead cannibals, she was just sort of mildly distressed.

  I really should be afraid, she thought.

  But like a lot of things in this game world they were trapped in, the reality part took some time to sink in. It worked in her favor, usually—not being afraid of an ogre charging at her let her call to mind the right spell instead of dropping into the fetal position and having a meltdown, for one. But right now?

  This is a worrisome situation, she thought.

  Her brother was up to something on the other side of the cell. It looked like he might be butt-dancing, honestly, and it was more than a little disconcerting.

  “What are you doing over there?” she finally asked, tired of watching Tobias squirm.

  “Remember how I realized early on that I—that my character—could do sleight of hand tricks?” he said.

  “Yeah. You kept trying to steal shit. Which was really upsetting, by the way,” Tamsin said.

  “Well I’m almost out of my bindings,” Tobias said. “I’ve been working on this knot for like two hours. I nearly have it.”

  “Great. So, we’ll still be stuck in a cage, but you won’t have your hands tied behind your back,” she said.

  “Baby steps, Tam,” Tobias said.

  “And what are you going to do when you get your hands free?” she asked.

  “We’ll figure that out when we get there,” he said. “What spells do you have handy?”

  Tamsin ran down the list of spells she had memorized.

  “Fireball. Lightning bolt. Arcane shield. Detect and dismiss magic. Invisibility,” she said.

  “When did you learn invisibility?”

  “It was in that book we found, at the ogre camp. Remember how I scared you at the tavern?”

  “Oh! Right. Forgot about that. You have to teach me that spell,” he said.

  “If we get out of this, I will,” she said.

  Tobias continued to worm away at his bindings, banging his head accidentally against the bars.

  “Ow,” he said. “So, how many people can you turn invisible at one time?”

  “Just one,” Tamsin said. “Why? Wait. No. No, I’m not doing that.”

  “Yes, you are,” Tobias said. “If you see an opportunity, you go invisible and you run, sis.”

  “I’m not leaving you here,” she said.

  “Come on now, I can talk my way out of anything,” he said. “I’ll distract them and you go for help.”

  “They’re going to eat you,” Tamsin said.

  “I think they plan on eating both of us,” Tobias said, grinning at her. “I think I convince them I’m more use alive.”

  Tamsin started to argue, but then they both cut the conversation short as the eerie sound of claws on stone approached. Soon, two of the feral ghouls appeared, flanking Urfang, the leader.

  “Hello, little elves,” Urfang said, smiling at them with a deathly grin.

  “Hey,” Tobias said. “Great place you have here. Is it Zagat rated?”

  The creature ignored him, casting his eyes back and forth between the twins, glimmering like a cat’s in the dark.

  “My lord has asked for you, minstrel,” he said, looking at Tobias.

  “No,” Tamsin said.

  “All I ask is that you don’t over-season me,” Tobias said. “I don’t want to be a bad meal as my final act in life.”

  “Actually, I believe my lord has other plans,” Urfang said. “I told him we had an elven bard, and he asked to speak with you before he decides if you’re a meal or not.”

  “Well, that’s an interesting turn of events,” Tobias said. “Am I singing to not become supper?”

  “I have no idea, minstrel,” Urfang said. “I’m just here to deliver you to him.”

  “Well, then,” Tobias said, standing up. “I’ll need my lute.”

  “You’ll have it, if my lord says you should,” Urfang said. He unlocked the cage. Tobias staged a pratfall that Tamsin knew was fake, but the ghouls didn’t seem to notice. What they did notice was that his hands came flying out from behind his back as he used them to catch himself.

  “Man, I thought elves could see in the dark, but that is not true, guys,” Tobias said, grabbing onto Urfang to steady himself. The undead creature shoved him back as if repulsed by the very touch of the elf. Before Tobias could speak again, Urfang roughly grabbed him and dragged him out of the cage, slamming the door behind him.

  “If you hurt him, I will burn this entire cavern to the ground,” Tamsin said.

  “I’ve been alive hundreds of years, little elf,” Urfang said. “I can spot an empty threat when I hear one.”

  “Chin up, sis,” Tobias said as he was led roughly away. “I’ve always wanted to perform for royalty.”

  And with that, the ghouls hauled Tobias dow
n the tunnel and out of sight.

  Tamsin awkwardly climbed to her feet, her own hands still tied behind her back. She leaned against the cell’s bars, trying to see which direction they took her brother. And as she pressed her head against the cell door… it creaked open.

  They never re-locked it, Tamsin thought. Was her brother really capable of being so annoying he made them forget to lock the cell door? Was that what that stupid fall was for?

  She took another step forward, and her foot struck something hard. On the ground just outside the cage, a short dagger, the sort a fighter might keep on his belt for utility purposes, lay forgotten. Tamsin slowly crouched down, picked up the knife without looking, and started fraying the ropes that bound her wrists. It took some effort, and she nicked herself several times, but after a few minutes, her hands were free. She tucked the knife into her belt and listened for footsteps. Hearing none, she muttered the arcane incantations required for her spell.

  And in the blink of an eye, she disappeared from sight.

  Chapter 11: Singing for my supper

  Urfang dragged Tobias by the collar through the underground tunnels, the path lit by flickering torchlight. The nameless ghouls, the feral ones flanked them like an honor guard, snorting and growling to themselves, eyes alert but without much going on behind them.

  “So how does one prepare elf meat?” Tobias asked. “Do you marinate it? Smoke it? I’m a pescetarian myself, so I’m not really sure what the best way to get the most out of elven rump roast is.”

  “Do you ever shut up?” Urfang said.

  “Silence really isn’t my thing, if I’m being totally honest,” Tobias said. He fired the ghoul his best smile and got no reaction.

  “Gods below, I hope we eat you first,” Urfang said.

  “Okay, serious question,” Tobias said as Urfang shoved him harder down the corridor. “Gods below. Are there gods above? Are there gods on the… here, like neither above nor below? How does that all work?”

  Urfang shot him a look that was almost but not quite inquiring. The big ghoul shrugged.

  “Above, below, all around us, the gods are everywhere,” Urfang said. “And they’re all bastards. Doesn’t matter what they’re the god of.”

  “Fair enough,” Tobias said. “At least I know that praying for a divine intervention right now won’t be worth it.”

  “Praying for divine intervention is often even more costly than simply suffering your life’s consequences,” a new voice said as they turned a corner into a larger chamber. Male, deeper, distinguished, it sounded more like the narrator of a BBC nature film than an undead creature. Tobias blinked a few times, eyes adjusting to the darker setting, and his vision settled on a raised dais in the center of the room, dominated by a large, stone chair. Seated there was another ghoul, but as different from the others as Urfang was from the feral ones. His skin was darker, a deep blue-gray. He wore dark robes that might have once been elegant, but had fallen into disrepair, belted with a golden cord, tarnished and overused. The being stood up languidly and walked down the steps before him to stand in front of Tobias.

  “The minstrel, my lord,” Urfang said. “He talks too much.”

  “Talking too much is what bards do, Urfang,” the elegant one said. He reached out with long, clawed fingers and took Tobias’ chin in his hand. “Fresh elf blood. We haven’t had that in so long, Urfang.”

  “No, my lord,” the beefy ghoul said. He’d taken a step back to give the newcomer a chance to examine Tobias in peace.

  “It’s unfortunate, then, that I don’t plan on eating this one,” he said.

  “What?” Tobias and Urfang said simultaneously.

  The elegant ghoul laughed.

  “You are Oberon the Blue, am I correct?” he said.

  “That’s one of the names I go by, yes,” Tobias said.

  “You’ve made a name for yourself, storyteller,” the creature said.

  “I try. The signal-to-noise factor out there is brutal, y’know?”

  “But not too big a name for yourself. You are, what’s the word I’m looking for? An up and comer. A rising star.”

  “Whose career was tragically cut short when he became elf steak,” Tobias said.

  “No, no, if you do as I say, Oberon the Blue, you have a long life awaiting you.”

  “A long life, or a long… undeath?” Tobias said.

  “That really depends on what you do next,” the creature said. “Do you know who I am?”

  “I assume you’re the boss,” Tobias said. “But nobody’s told me your name.”

  The dark gray ghoul returned to his seat at the top of the dais and sat down. He looks tired, Tobias thought. Do the undead get tired? Can they? I thought that was the whole point of being undead. You just kept going.

  “My name is Constian,” the ghoul said. “Do you know what we are, Oberon the Blue?”

  “One of my friends said you were ghouls, but I get the feeling that’s not entirely true,” Tobias answered. He hooked his thumbs on his belt, not sure what to do with his hands.

  Constian sighed and shrugged.

  “That’s not entirely inaccurate,” he said. “We call ourselves eaters of the dead, or sometimes gaunts, but… you know, I used to be offended by that. But the fact of the matter is the gods are always particularly creative when they choose to punish mortal men. One undead grave robber isn’t much different from another, I suppose.”

  “But if I’m reading between the lines correctly, all things being equal, ‘ghoul’ is not your preferred terminology.”

  “Not at all,” Constian said.

  “Noted,” Tobias said. He opened his mouth to speak, inhaled, exhaled, bit his lip, then spoke. “So why are you asking me this? I’ve heard of playing with your food, but talking with your food’s a new one to me.”

  Constian smiled at him. Despite the ghoulish face, despite the sharp teeth, Tobias could see that Constian was, in life, a beautiful man, elegant features still showing through in this harsh unliving state. Something of what once was remains under there, Tobias thought.

  “We’ve existed this way for a thousand years, bard,” Constian said. “And no one knows our story. And as much as I’d like to devour you, to butcher a rising teller of stories seems a waste of a rare and valuable resource.”

  “Oh,” Tobias said. “So… I tell your story, I live?”

  “That depends on how well you listen,” Constian said. “Convince me you can tell our story to the world, and I’ll let you go.”

  “Why would you… okay, I am super curious by nature and I’m legitimately fascinated to hear your story. I’m not even trying to flatter you here. I want to know,” Tobias said. “But why would you want the world to know your story?”

  “Because the gods are shit, and they would hate it if the mortal world knew about it,” Constian said.

  “Wow,” Tobias said. “Okay, not really a religious guy here, totally can get behind this plan. One last question.”

  Constian made a gesture for him to continue speaking, a bemused look on his face.

  “Why did you take my… um,” Tobias said.

  “We know she’s your sister,” Constian said. “You talk too much. And my men did take you because we enjoy a good meal of elf. But now we know she’s valuable to you.”

  “Great. Cool. Okay. Why are you keeping her then, though?”

  “Because if you refuse my offer, we’ll eat her piece by piece until you comply,” Constian said. “Believe me, it’s difficult to not start already, but fair’s fair. We want to give you a chance before then.”

  “Y’know, you could have just asked,” Tobias said.

  “A thousand years of undeath has taught me many things,” Constian said. “And one of those things is asking rarely gets what you want, but bribery often does.”

  Tobias chewed on his lip again, then shrugged as nonchalantly as he could, wondering if Tamsin had been able to escape yet.

  “Well then,” he said. “How about we st
art at the beginning?”

  Chapter 12: It would be a mercy

  Cordelia couldn’t stop herself from staring at the newcomer. He was grotesque in many ways, with his corpse-like skin, the pins of red glowing in his eyes. But he spoke to them like equals, and Cordelia had spent her whole life being alternately talked down to or condescended to, so she felt like she had a pretty good sense for when either was happening. Despite being a literal monster, this Murtok character really did seem to want to help them.

  Still, she kept her axe in hand. You never know when the first time your instincts failing you would happen.

  Jack and Murtok walked side by side at the front of the group, Silence acting as a shadowy outrider. Morgan hiked alongside Cordelia, his armor and hammer clearly growing heavier at this forced pace. Eriko, looking almost chastised by the entire thing, hung back alone.

  “So, let me get this straight,” Cordelia asked. “You’re willing to lead us to the home of your… family, so we can kill a bunch of them and get our friends back.”

  Murtok glanced over his shoulder.

  “Most of these mindless ones are not literally my kin,” he said. “Yes, we share the same curse, but their patriarch, Constian, has been spreading the curse irresponsibly for decades now. He used to know better. He knew that this world will ignore monsters if they seem like myths, but once they become real, once they become… commonplace, then things don’t end well for either side.”

  “Why not kill him, then?” Cordelia asked, unable to keep the annoyance out of her voice.

  Murtok stopped walking. At first Cordelia thought she’d offended him, that he might attack. She tightened her grip on her axe. But the creature bowed his head, almost in shame.

  “Because he’s one of the last creatures in this world who remembers me for what I was before,” Murtok said. “These feral creatures… it’s not that I hate them. But they have no memory of the life before. That’s the thing about the curse. You need to survive in this undead state for hundreds of years before your memories come back. And then you need to survive having those memories come flooding into your mind and realize that for entire generations, you’ve been the monster in the graveyard, desecrating the dead. There’s a reason so few of us are like myself and Constian and Urfang. The memories of your past life blurring together with the memories of your undeath is more than most can bear. They’re almost all mad, even the old ones. And the old ones who go mad… they’re the worst. Mad, and hungry, and powerful. Killing the feral ones… it would be a mercy.”