“Shut up, Reginald.” The female necromancer turned back to me. “Seriously, get inside. Whatever is going on, it’s getting bad.”
I nodded. “Will do. Thanks.”
She turned and the three of them walked back out of the alley. It was easy to tell the woman as she walked away. Not that I was looking, of course. It’s not like I had a death wish.
Things changed after that. The dead started to get nasty and reports came in from all over the city of people being attacked, but always by someone that they had wronged, never the loved ones that first showed up. Now, the streets were mostly empty, as more and more of the walking corpse variety showed up. Those that could actually, physically, touch you and cause you harm.
I suppose I was glad for that really. If you stayed in, and kept the doors locked and the windows barred, they couldn’t get to you. Unlike the ghostly type of visitor, who passed through doors and walls as if they weren’t even there. I imagined that if that type meant you harm, it would be very hard to stay away from them.
The word came down from the hill, where his Majesty lived in a shining palace, that everyone should stay indoors, hidden away, until the Watch could deal with this. To my mind, that meant giving the necromancers a chance to roam the city and keep exploding the things.
But I was never very good at obeying orders, especially those that came from a never-seen ruler who didn’t really live among us. He caused enough problems when he opened our city to one and all, without thought to the consequences. Now he was suddenly an expert?
I hit the streets, keeping my sword and club close to hand. While the sword was more lethal, if it were possible to kill what was already dead, I could swing the short piece of wood more quickly, which might help me clear a path if I needed to run.
It was strange walking through the city like this. The taverns and stores were all closed up, windows shuttered tightly. There was almost no one else on the street, but every now and then, I would see someone else sneaking furtively along, keeping a wary eye out.
I heard a scream, and saw a dwarven woman running, being pursued by no less than three rotting orc females. They caught her before she made it very far and pulled her down. I ran over, shouting, but they paid no attention to me, and began to lay into the dwarf with their boots.
The first one went down quickly when I took off her head from behind, some of that same nasty, slime that had covered me from the goblins spilling out onto the street. The other two continued to ignore me as they kicked away at the curled-up dwarf on the ground. I re-killed the second one the same way, and then the third finally turned to me. It was really no contest. The dead were moving, but not that quickly and without much coordination, so it was easy enough to avoid her blows, and run her through.
That proved to be as useless as when I did the same to the ghoul. The orc never even noticed but continued to flail away at me. In the meantime, the dwarf rose to her feet, pulled a short axe from her belt and buried it in the back of the orcs head. That did the trick. She went down in a heap, adding to the pool of slime gathering beneath the bodies.
“Thanks,” the dwarf panted.
“No problem. Shouldn’t you be inside?”
“Had things to do. Shouldn’t you?”
“Had things to do, too.” I grinned at her, and after a moment she smiled back.
“Thanks again,” she said, and moved on, only this time, I couldn’t help but notice that she kept her axe out, grasped firmly in her hand.
I glanced down and decided to do the same with my sword.
“Hey!”
“You’ve got to be joking,” I muttered to myself.
There was Wulfonson, striding down the street as if he were walking down a path in a park on a sunny afternoon, rather than a city full of the restless dead. The dog he had rescued trotted at his heels, tongue lolling. At least it was a normal dog tongue this time.
“What do you want?” I said, refusing to be intimidated.
“Did you kill those orcs?” His war hammer was out, as was my sword, and it was clotted with dried slime and hair.
“Re-killed, more like.” I moved to the side so that he could see the slime pooling beneath the bodies.
“Oh. Lucky for you.”
He moved on, neither he nor the dog bothering to even glance in my direction again. I was getting tired of this. I didn’t know if Wulfonson was following me, or if it was pure dumb luck that I kept running into him, but I had the feeling that it was going to come to a head soon enough.
The watchhouse was closed when I got there, sealed tight as a drum. I stood there, staring at it in disbelief. Such a thing had never happened before, at least not to my knowledge. The watchhouse didn’t close. It was where people went if there was trouble, not a place that shut because of trouble.
I wasn’t quite sure what to do now. Apparently, removing the head from the body of a walking corpse, or destroying it, was enough to re-kill them. In theory, I could walk the streets, killing those I came across and help the Watch in their apparent time of need. But considering that no one seemed to know where they were coming from in the first place, who could say how much good that would do.
How were the dead showing up like this anyway? The ghost types I could understand. But the corpses were different, they were bodies that crawled from the graves. Since there were very few cemeteries in Capital City, where were they coming from? Were there long lines of them, migrating here from the countryside? Or was it, as I suspected, that most foul of all the arts…magic?
I ran across a few more corpses, shambling along, and ended them as quickly as I could, usually by coming up behind them and taking their heads off. I left the bodies to lay where they fell, figuring the rat men would be having a field day soon enough.
In every case, the walking dead thing never seemed to notice I was there until it was too late.
No past kill of mine came back to haunt me as they had yesterday. As a matter of fact, I didn’t see anyone being pursued, or crowds of the dead trying break through the door of a house, nothing like that. Indeed, all the corpses seemed to be shuffling along in the same direction, heads lifted as if hearing something.
I was about to kill one when I decided that maybe I would be better off letting it go and follow it to wherever it was heading. It wasn’t mindlessly wandering along, it actually seemed to have a destination in what passed for its mind.
As it went, more and more of the dead fell in around us, until there was a substantial crowd of them. It occurred to me that maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all, as I was now fully surrounded. I ducked into a nearby doorway, letting the one I was following go on without me. The others took no notice of me and continued walking on, all in the same direction.
I put my sword away, since it would be no use to me against so many if this went bad, stepped out from my doorway, and joined the flow. The dead walked on, not minding me walking among them in the least.
The area that we walked through was familiar, and soon, I recognized it as the lead-in to Liberty Square, one of those strange, open areas of a city that are actually more circular in shape despite the name. There was a central fountain, with the statue of a man holding what appeared to be a mop over his head in a gesture of triumph. Over what or who, I had no idea, but the stonework was quite well done.
And there, hovering over the fountain were the ghosts. All of them, or at least I would assume so given how many there were. They floated one above the other, traveling in a circle above the fountain, stretching far up into the sky. I tried to see if I could recognize Dad among them, but there were too many, and they flowed over and even through each other.
The corpses reached the square and stopped moving, staring at the statue as if they were waiting for it to command them. Neither they nor the ghosts in the air made any sound and the silence was eerie.
I waited for something to happen, but nothing did. The dead stood and stared, the ghosts flew without sound or apparent purpose. Finally, I pick
ed my way carefully back through the horde, noting that more of them were arriving by the minute.
Whatever this was, it was beyond me, but I knew who should be able to handle it.
“Come on! Open up!” I banged on the watchhouse door again. It had been at least five minutes and there was no answer so far. Either there really was no one there, or else they were simply refusing to open the door.
I slammed on it again, and then kicked it out of sheer frustration.
Some things you needed to handle yourself. Apparently.
I was really hoping that nothing would be going on at Liberty Square by the time I got back there, but as fate would have it, especially where I was concerned, I was just in time for the beginning of something new.
The statue was moving. It still held the mop over its head, showing the world that a man with a cleaning utensil can’t be kept down, but its face was moving, and changing.
The jaw was working and as I watched from well to the rear of the crowd of corpses, carefully hidden around the corner, the mouth opened, and sharp fangs were revealed within. The eyes blinked and when they opened again, they glowed, bright blue, like the ghouls. And a dark fog started to surround it. I didn’t know where it was coming from. The thin air, apparently.
“It is time,” the statue hissed. The voice that came from it was cold, and harsh, and sounded old. Not old like an old man, quavering and tired, but old as in ancient. It gave you the sense that you were listening to someone from very, very long ago speak through the ages.
“Destroy. Kill.”
The horde started to turn, and shuffle away from the fountain. Up in the sky, the ghosts began to peel off from the circle, flying away to some mysterious destination. The statue continued to issue the same commands, over and over again, and the black mist around it grew thicker, until all you could see were the glowing blue eyes.
The first corpse lurched around the corner. I stayed still, pressed against the wall, but unlike before, this time it didn’t help. It spotted me right away and lunged forward, hands outstretched. I dodged, pulled my sword and with two quick swings removed its hands, which didn’t so much as slow it down. I didn’t think that it would, but at least now it couldn’t grab me. I stepped forward and drove the point of my sword straight into its face. That did the trick, and it dropped to the ground, but more were coming.
There was a crash and I saw several of the corpses pull down a door and enter a house. Screams came from within as whoever was inside was trapped as more of the dead made their way in.
Suddenly, I was freezing, my body shivering so badly that I could hardly hold on to my sword. I turned, meaning to run, get back to the watchhouse and try to rouse the necromancers again, but instead, I was confronted by the ghost of a beautiful young woman. She smiled as she reached out again, and her hand went through my chest. My heart felt like it stopped and terrible pain radiated out from there, dropping me to my knees.
I gasped, but pushed myself forward, right through her. I felt like I ran into a freezing cold pool of water, but I made myself keep moving, picking up speed as I stumbled away.
The dead were no longer interested in staying outside. They pushed through doors, ripped down shutters and climbed through smashed windows. The ghosts simply passed through walls or ceilings, and everywhere there was the sound of screaming.
This was no good. Even if I made it back to the watchhouse and got through to someone, it would be too late for too many people. Something needed to be done now.
I sighed, knowing what it was. Whatever called the dead back, they had been peaceful, if disturbing at first. It wasn’t until that statue started to talk and command them that they turned harmful. Therefore, the statue had to go.
How does one kill a statue though? And more, how was I going to get there?
There were some Nuisance Men who didn’t prefer the straight-ahead approach to the job that I used. They used subterfuge and set traps. They lured their targets to them or made them think that they were there for some other reason. Myself, I always felt like that was somehow dishonorable, like it was cheating.
But in this case, maybe they were on to something.
I found one of the walking corpses on its own and took care of it. But I did it by coming up behind it and pushing my sword through the back of its head. It dropped to the street and lay still. I grimaced, and then cut the thing open, taking handfuls of the slime and rubbing myself all over with it. It was disgusting and smelled worse than the sewer I chased the lizard men into all those centuries ago.
It worked. I walked among the dead and they didn’t know I wasn’t one of them. They ignored me, both the shambling ones and the ghosts, and I made my way back to Liberty Square and the speaking statue.
Part one was taken care of. I made it back there. Now…
I imitated the dead and shuffled and lurched as I approached the center of the square. The mist had spread out, so that the entire square was darker than the surrounding area, but it had thinned somewhat so that as I got close I could see the statue. The jaw moved as it continued to give its commands.
“Kill. Destroy. Maim.”
The words came out in a passionless torrent. Not hurrying but at a steady pace.
I stood before it, unsure of what to do. I climbed into the fountain, aware that the water was washing off some of the slime I was disguising myself with, and pushed against the statue. A dwarf must have carved this thing years ago, because it was solid as, if you’ll excuse the expression, a rock. It didn’t budge so much as an inch.
“Maim. Destroy. Kill. Kill.”
The jaw kept working, and the dead kept obeying. The screams were becoming more frequent now.
Then, I heard a new noise. The same popping that I heard in the alley, and others. A loud buzzing sound that sounded as if it entered the square from my left and departed to the right. Several of the dead dropped, their heads neatly clipped off as it went. There was a sucking noise in the air, and I saw a ghost lifted through the roof of a house, flailing and fighting, but then torn apart as if it passed through a set of huge, invisible knives.
Red robes appeared around the area, some coming into the square, others in the streets leading to it. They chanted, waved their arms and cast their spells and destroyed the dead by the handful.
But there were too many. As I watched, a ghost flew through one of the necromancer’s bodies with a scream. It wasn’t good for the ghost, it kept screaming as it got dimmer and dimmer until it was gone entirely, but it hurt the necromancer badly too. He, or she I supposed, dropped to their knees and was dragged down further when two of the walking corpses fell on them.
It wasn’t going to be enough. As powerful as they were, there were too many of the dead being goaded on by this twice-damned statue.
I backed up, took a running start and hurled myself at it, but it still didn’t budge. The only result of my efforts was to drop me into the water, washing off more of the slime. The dead around me were beginning to take notice.
“Kill. Destroy.”
That monotone voice was maddening.
“Shut up,” I growled, picking myself up, water and slime dripping off me.
“Destroy. Maim.”
“I said, shut up!” Without thinking, I pulled out my cudgel and rammed it into the statues mouth.
“MMMF. GGGLLGG.”
The jaw continued to try to work, but the words were now completely garbled, nonsense sounds at best. I waited for it to drop the mop and the stone arms to come down and remove the piece of wood, but they didn’t. The eyes glowed brighter, burning through the mist, but unless it was doing something I couldn’t see, it was nothing more than light.
The dead stopped attacking. The ghosts flew in circles wherever they were, abandoning the houses of the living, and the corpses simply stood still.
All noise ceased. The chanting from the necromancers stopped and the noise of their spells died down.
“What the hell happened?” I heard one of them s
ay.
Then, a chorus of voices broke out as they all started talking at once. I stepped away from the statue and out of the fountain, soaking wet, yet somehow still reeking of the foul slime.
On my way out of the square, I grabbed the red sleeve of one of the necromancers.
“The statue,” I said to him. Then moved on without waiting for a reply. “But don’t take that stick out of its mouth.”
They didn’t need more than that. They were smart, they could figure it out.
I was exhausted when I got home. I didn’t know what was going to happen to the dead now. Mom was fine. I checked on her on my way, and her folks and her aunt disappeared around the same time that Dad did. And she was too far from Liberty Square for the violence to have gotten to her.
My head buzzed. Hey. Sorry about that.
“Uh huh. Like the dogs, huh? Got distracted?”
No, actually not this time. We were taken by surprise. Held back, I guess you could say.
“We? Who’s we?”
Those of us on this side. The good side.
“I’m supposed to believe that? Any of it?”
We hope you do. You have big things in front of you, Duke. And we may have been tricked this time, but you showed a lot of resourcefulness. We think we chose well.
“I’m really not in the mood for this.” And I wasn’t. I was stinking. I was tired. And truth to tell, I was missing Dad.
Get some sleep. But rest assured, we’re ready now, should the other side bring out a big gun like that again.
“Great. Wait? A what? What the hell is a big gun?”
Ah. Well. Maybe we’ll tell you another time.
“Whatever. Right now, I just want to sleep.”
By all means. Oh, but first…
The buzzing went away, and I opened the door. My house was in shadow due to the lateness of the day, but there was a glow from the kitchen. A decidedly blue glow.
Dad was at the table, mug of ale in his hand and a spilled one on the floor. I smiled, got myself a mug and sat down across from him. For one more night, I sat and listened to him tell me stories, and didn’t mind one bit if I had heard them before.
Duke Grandfather- The Whole Story Page 63