Big Trouble

by Andrew Seiple

  Normally she’d be ecstatic about gaining another attribute point, but right now prudent fear was the order of the day. Greta puffed and panted at her side, as the sisters fled up the hill.

  “No, not that way!” Thomasi shouted. “Oh damn it all... Vaffanculo! Vaffanculo!”

  Normally Chase would have been shocked by his foul language. But she couldn’t spare a look back, focusing on the ground ahead. If she tripped, she was dead, that was it.

  And just as she thought that, her foot caught a root.

  For a second, for a hot, horrible second, she staggered, leaning forward, balance shifting as the hillside rose to meet her falling face...

  ...and then her flailing hand met the ground and with strength she didn’t know she had, Chase pushed herself upright enough to get both feet under her and going properly.

  Then she was at the top of the hill, pebbles and dirt flying as she scrambled, and the rusty iron gate of the graveyard loomed ahead, bars fallen out like broken teeth. Chase hopped over the first one, trampled the next, ignoring the rough sensation against her bare foot, and barely slowed as she wiggled through the gap in the gate. Her pack caught as she went and tore, and Chase cursed as she heard something hit the ground behind her.

  “The fox!” Greta yelled.

  Chase ignored it, darting behind the mossy gravestones, and skidding to a halt as she almost fell in a dug-up hole where there should be a grave. “Leave it!” she called to Greta. “They want us, not a fox toy!”

  “No! Chase! The fox! Look!” Greta panted, as she slid to a stop next to Chase, pointing frantically back to the gate.

  The fox toy had fallen from Chase’s backpack, all right.

  But it wasn’t lying there in the dirt, like Chase had expected.

  The fox stood, its torn throat whole, brushing dirt from its flanks with cloth paws.

  Am I mad? Chase wondered. Then a darker thought occurred to her. Is it enchanted? Did whatever raised the undead animate this toy somehow? Taking a deep breath, the halven pulled out another hurler stone and sighted carefully.

  Then the first skeleton crested the hilltop, skull rising up first, outstretched arms and bony ribs next...

  And the fox spoke.

  “Manipulate air!” it commanded, in a voice that sighed and sung, with an echo to it like the strings of an instrument. And as it spoke it waved a paw and a cloud of fog roiled and rolled in front of the tiny toy.

  But the gust of wind went far wide, and the fox hopped back, backpedaling as it re-oriented and turned its charge, aiming for him instead of Chase. Behind it, another skull rose from the slope of the hillside as the second skeleton neared...

  “Help him!” Chase decided, making a snap decision. And before she could second-guess herself, she let loose with several stones, jerking them free of her pockets and chucking them as fast as she could draw them. Beside her, Greta did the same.

  The thing staggered as the sisters pelted it, turning back their way as red numbers sheeted up and disappeared. But before it could reach the gate, it collapsed, falling into pieces. Greta whooped in very un-halven-like joy.

  The fox, for his part, wasn’t idle. He waved his hands in a quick arc and this time his blast caught the second skeleton head on, lifting it up and off the ground, and launching it back out of view down the hillside. Bones clattered and kept on clattering, until a crunch filled the air.

  Chase paused with one of her last stones in her hand. She felt her racing heart slow, just a bit, then kick back up as the little toy fox turned. It still had the patches from her mother’s sewing kit all along its front, and new colors over its throat. It looked at her with sad little glass eyes, and she stared back, knowing that she should speak, but unsure what to say.

  The fox, however, beat her to it.

  “I’m sorry,” it said, in that reedy, resonant little voice. “This is all my fault.”

  CHAPTER 6: THE NECROMANCER’S PRICE

  For the first time in her life, Chase had many, many questions, and she didn’t want the answers to any of them.

  It wasn’t that the question “What the hell are you?” had no merit.

  And certainly the question “What do you mean?” was worthy of asking, at some point.

  Also, it would be definitely be a good idea to straighten out a few more things, such as “What’s going on here, exactly?”

  But right here and now, standing on this lonely hilltop, in a remote cemetery that was far from help and with undead coming to tear Chase and Greta apart with bony claws, these questions seemed to lack urgency.

  Standing there, feeling adrenaline rush through her small frame, shaking with fear and the urge to run and hide, Chase Berrymore only had one question for the surprisingly animate fox toy.

  “Will you help us?”

  “Yes,” said the toy, dropping to all fours and trotting easily through the gate, until he reached their side. “I’m Renny.”

  “I’m Chase.”

  “I know.” Renny peered around, eyes gleaming in the scattered sunlight. There were fewer trees up here, thankfully. “Can you invite me to your party?”

  “Invite Renny,” Chase said. Beside her, Greta just stared down at the fox, eyes wide.

  “He’s so cute!” Greta finally decided.

  Renny has joined your party!

  “Party Screen,” Chase said, ducking back behind a tombstone so she could read without exposing her head to random skeletons.

  Greta looked as she always did.

  Greta Berrymore

  Halven 9HP 84

  Farmer 5 SAN 72

  STA 81/100

  MOX 80

  FOR 89

  Renny, though, Renny was a whole different story. Renny was more of a series.

  Renny?

  Fox 4HP85

  Greater Toy Golem 3SAN161/171

  Air Elementalist 7STA120

  Sensate10MOX140

  Tailor 9FOR160

  “Okay,” Chase said, feeling in control of herself again. She banished the party screen with a thought and looked around. And everywhere she looked she saw dug-up graves. Not every stone had a hole next to it, but there were a good twenty or thirty or so. That wasn’t good, not by any definition of the word.

  “Vaffanculo!” Thomasi shouted from down the hill.

  “Good, he’s still alive,” Chase muttered. “I don’t know what he’s doing to keep them from killing him, but I’m going to assume he can keep doing that. So all we have to worry about is keeping ourselves alive and getting out of here.”

  “You’re taking this very well,” Renny said. “I thought you would be panicking right now.”

  Chase shared a look with Greta. Halvens got this sort of talk sometimes, from humans who traveled through town. Chase didn’t feel like explaining how halvens were known for their mental fortitude and keeping their cool in scary situations; there wasn’t enough time for that. So instead she settled for saying “Thank you. Are you doing okay?”

  “Yes. No.” He looked down at the ground. “All my friends are dead and it’s my fault.”

  He just looked so cute and so sad, and for a second, despite everything, Chase’s heart went out to him. She found herself scratching his stuffed head, behind the cloth ears. He leaned into it and didn’t say anything.

  Greta broke the moment. “There’s something glowing in the... bones. Of the skeleton.”

  Chase looked up, crawled on hands and knees to keep herself low, ignoring the mud and the grime of the churned up earth. She got to the shattered pile of bones, and sure enough, something glimmered inside. It was black, yet it glimmered. Chase hesitated, then snatched it free, hoping that it wouldn’t do something horrible to her.

  The glimmering thing was a ball of crystal, about the size of a small apple. It was black, so dark that it almost seemed to devour the sunlight, save for a few spots where a purplish glow seemed to glisten and wink almost of its own volition.

  “That’s a soulstone,” Renny said, next to her. “It
holds the spirits of dead things.”

  “Well there are four more in around its hips,” Chase poked at them. They didn’t seem to have the same feel...

  Then she thought of the dead squirrel that the first skeleton was clutching. “They’re killing things and catching their souls in the soulstones? Why?”

  “Because raising undead takes souls,” a strange man spoke from behind her, and Chase whirled as Greta gasped.

  His hair was shorn to stubble, and his features were chiseled and stern. Though human, he stood short and stout, but not the slightest bit of it was fat. The man wore half a metal mask over his face. His exposed eye glared without mercy, blue and bloodshot. the other was hidden behind glass, and his mask leered in wicked glee with pointed teeth where the side of his frowning mouth met it. The stranger wore faded black clothing with a few torn white patches, showing the remnant of skull emblems, heraldry that decorated every cloth thing he wore...

  ...all save for a blue tabard, with the golden symbol of a boot on the front of it. That tabard, strangely enough, was untouched, and looked practically new. Either this man was a tailor who didn’t care about his other clothes, or something strange was going on, here.

  Wordlessly, Greta ran to join Chase, but the stranger was quicker still, grabbing her foot and tripping her. “Ah, now. Leaving so soon?”

  Chase drew a stone from her dress and lifted her arm back. “Let her go!”

  The man rolled his eye and snapped his fingers. Behind him, bones rattled as skeleton after skeleton clambered up from the farther graves to join him. “Getting the picture yet?”

  “Vaffanculo!” Thomasi shouted again.

  “What?” The stranger snarled back. “I’m working here, Tom.” Greta squirmed, and he kicked her, as casually as Chase’s father would stomp on a rat. Chase gasped, as a bright red number ‘31’ rolled up from her sister. Greta stopped struggling, her face mirroring her sister’s fear.

  Then the stranger’s statement hit her. “You two know each other?”

  “Oh, we go way back.” He looked down at Greta and reached to his belt, pulling a knife free.

  “No, stop!” Chase yelled, stepping forward.

  “Why should I? A soul’s a soul.” The man smiled, ducked under Chase’s hurled stone—

  —And Renny caught him with a blast of air right in the face.

  A red ‘11’ rippled up from the man’s head, as he took a surprised step back, and Greta took her chance, scrambling across the dirt, lurching to her feet, and running to join her sister.

  “Keep running!” Chase said, turning to go...

  ...and almost colliding with Thomasi’s back, as he hurried up the hill, and threw himself between the skeleton that had broken off attacking him and lunged after Chase instead.

  There was a brief moment of confusion. Thomasi tripped over her, the skeleton danced around, its hands in the air like a child playing the “not touching you” game, and Chase fell to the ground, rolling, wincing as a red ‘5’ flew out of her head. Greta shrieked and grabbed for her...

  ...and Chase heard the strangest sound from behind her.

  She shot a look back and saw that the masked stranger was laughing. He was bent over, slapping his leg, laughing his rump off at the undignified little dance that she’d just done. “Oh, enough. Enough, back off and let them be,” the man said, and the skeleton stepped back, lowering its arms. “But kill them if they try to run,” the stranger finished, spreading his arms wide and stepping forward.

  Thomasi strode up to meet him, dusting himself off. “Clean and Press,” the ringmaster muttered, and dirt sloughed away from his jacket leaving it spotless once more. “Vaffanculo you bone-diddler,” Thomasi snarled. “I would have thought you would have kept on running.”

  “I did. Then I found a graveyard.”

  He wasn’t swearing, earlier. This man’s name is Vaffanculo. Chase realized. But who the heck calls himself something so vulgar as that?

  “Well, you can keep killing squirrels. These two aren’t worth it. Killing them would bring the town down on your head.”

  “A soul’s a soul, Thomasi. And a town’s just right for my purposes, once I’ve got enough starter minions to ensure a good harvest.” Vaffanculo cracked his fingers, as his gaze played over the sisters... and the little fox, standing next to them, arms up and ready to fight. “Some kind of pet?” Vaffanculo snorted. “Probably got a stupid pun for a name. I hate all these damn puns.”

  “Believe me I’m just as lost as you are on that one,” Thomasi spared Renny a glance, then looked back up.

  But not in time to interrupt Greta, who stepped forward, emboldened and angry. “Where are our parents? What did you do with them?”

  Vaffanculo squinted at her, then shrugged, gesturing widely around at the skeletons. “If they were buried here I shoved squirrel and bunny souls in them and desecrated their corpses into unholy service. Got any other stupid questions?”

  “They’re not here,” Thomasi told her, voice low and urgent. “They came this way and left. Vaffanculo showed up here later.”

  Relief bloomed in Chase’s heart, and her breath left her in a whistle. But then another realization rushed in to fill the void. “Wait,” she said, pointing at Thomasi. “Why didn’t you tell us this in the first place?”

  Thomasi scowled, not daring to look away from Vaffanculo. “It’s complicated.”

  “Oooh, this is rich. You know he’s a Grifter, right, girl?” Vaffanculo chortled. “Give him time and he’ll spin you some pretty, pretty lies.”

  “It’s the truth. All he’s got here are skeletons,” Thomasi continued. “If your parents had fallen prey to him then he’d have ghouls or worse. But there’s nothing here but bones to work with. Which is why he needs the soulstones, because the spirits are long gone. If he’d killed your parents he’d have their souls to work with, but he doesn’t.”

  “And how do you know all this about necromancy?” Chase said, taking a step back from him. “I can’t trust you. I can’t trust either of you.”

  The skeleton blocking her retreat shifted, and a few more strolled out from the dozen or so around Vaffanculo, making a perimeter. Chase eyed it nonetheless, measuring her odds. It would be a long shot, but maybe... no. No, she might be able to make it, but Greta wasn’t quite as nimble. And she was hurt, her face bruised where Vaffanculo had struck her.

  “I didn’t tell you the truth, because I knew I couldn’t discourage you or get you to go back to the safety of your village,” Thomasi said, removing his hat and rubbing his scalp. “I figured I could lead you here, let you take a look and see undead, and that would scare you back home. Just bad luck one got behind us.”

  “Then why didn’t it attack you? Why did it act like it didn’t want to hurt you?” Things weren’t adding up, here.

  Thomasi and Vaffanculo shared a look. The necromancer grinned, and Thomasi sighed. “It’s complicated,” the tall human said. “I’m sorry.”

  “So am I, Tom,” Vaffanculo shook his head. “Here you are, trying to report my activities to the authorities. Really now, after all we’ve been through, this is how you treat me?”

  “You were never my friend. We merely suffered together,” Tom scowled. “But I intended no harm. I figured you’d be long gone, as I said before.”

  “Well here I am, and here they are.” Vaffanculo said, turning his gaze to the halven sisters again. “They took out two of my skeletons, so I figure they owe me two souls.”

  Chase raised the soulstone she was holding, so he could see it and lifted her hurler stone above it. “I’ll smash this. Then it’ll be three souls lost.”

  “It’s a squirrel or something in there. You think I care about that?” Vaffanculo snorted. “Plenty more if I go hunting further out. Unless...” The necromancer shifted his gaze to Thomasi. “...you might be willing to reconsider my previous request?”

  “And leave myself open to you? Take that sort of risk?” Thomasi shook his head. “You’re asking too muc
h.”

  “Tom, Tom. I know better than to kill the goose who lays the golden eggs.” Vaffanculo tried a smile. It really didn’t work, not with that leering mask covering half his face. “You’re a Ringmaster without his circus, true, but your tricks are still too valuable to me. I wouldn’t kill you, unless it was a last resort.”

  A Ringmaster without a circus? Chase’s mind snapped back to a few hours ago. To that Fortuna card layout, that Hoon had done, back in the Dew Drop Inn.

  “The Guildmaster reversed,” she said, staring at Thomasi. “A leader without a throne. You’re my ally.”

  Thomasi glanced her way, then back to Vaffanculo. “Pardon? Look, now’s not the time to discuss—”

  “And that makes you my enemy. You’re the Griefer,” Chase continued, shifting to stare at the Necromancer.

  The reaction was instantaneous and unexpected. Thomasi and Vaffanculo stopped their banter and whirled around to face her, jaws slack.

  “Where did... where did you hear that?” Vaffanculo whispered, ruddy face pale. “Are you... no, you couldn’t be.”

  Thomasi cleared his throat. “So how’s the lag treating you?” He asked, staring Chase dead in the eye. His gaze held intensity, pain... and a longing that had nothing to do with lust.

  “It’s complicated.” Chase smiled without the faintest trace of happiness. Then she pulled out her last two hurler stones, and nodded to Greta. “Thomasi, if you help us, can we beat Vaffanculo?”

  Instantly, the Necromancer sagged, relaxing into a slouch and letting out a deep breath. Though she couldn’t tell if it was one of relief or disappointment. “You’re not. Of course you’re not. Just trying to play games with us. Stupid mahb.”

  Thomasi was shaking his head as well. “You don’t know anything about what’s going on here, do you? Not really.”

  “I know enough,” Chase said. “Can we do it?”

  “Not without one or both of you dying.”

  “And giving me what I want from him in the long run anyway,” Vaffanculo finished, straightening up and folding his arms. “So let’s compromise. You do that favor I asked of you, and I let the short stuffs walk out of here alive.”