Medallion of the Undead

by Anthony Rudzki

  Dust swirled, settled and then picked up once more. As he crossed from one side of the walls to the other, he found the bodies of Adam, Amber and Delas chained to the wall, shrunken and discolored from torture and starvation. He wiped tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. His lips quivered as he fought back breaking down completely.

  A stray sound broke his concentration from the bodies of his friends and he looked up. Standing on a small pile of crumbling stone he saw a dark figure in a flowing black robe, the hood up, casting its face in shadows. The cloth of his robes lay still, unaffected by the blowing winds.

  Kyle drew nearer to the menacing figure. He took several steps toward it when he felt his shoulder being held in a strong grip. He turned and saw Hillcutter standing at his side, dressed in silver mail, carrying a large glowing axe and a small wooden and metal banded shield.

  “You stay here lad. You’re not ready yet,” Hillcutter said and shot gray spit onto a darker grayed ground.

  “He’ll kill you, you know,” Kyle said, but the words were more of a thought or a whisper, than directed toward the dwarf.

  “No one knows what is destined. What I do know is that he must be stopped somehow,” the dwarf warrior said and ran toward the dark figure. A battle cry burst from him as he covered half the distance between the two, his axe held high over his head.

  His target stood its ground, unwavering at the dwarf’s approach. When the distance between the two had been halved again, the figure raised its hand and a red orb formed around it. A pulsing ray emitted from the center of the orb and struck the dwarf, enveloping him entirely.

  Hillcutter stopped in mid-stride, frozen in place. Crackling branches of glowing threads coursed over his body before the red light disappeared and the dwarf fell to the ground, still.

  Thin wisps of gray smoke rose from his form and then were snatched away by a gust of wind.

  Kyle shifted his view from the fallen dwarf to the dark figure, who reached up and flipped the hood of his robe back, revealing his face.

  Kyle recoiled. He squinted, trying to focus through the tears welling up in his eyes. His jaw slowly dropped as the realization hit him like a warhammer.

  “Father?” he whispered.

  In his head he heard the soothing sound of his father’s voice, cutting through the winds like a sharpened blade. “Kyle, you must hurry. The undead curse from the medallion is not only for those you touch, but it affects you too. Why have you ignored its effects? Look! Look at your hands and see how your skin is becoming colorless and stiffened like leather. You must continue the medallion’s original journey and deliver it to the one that can remove the curse from you. Your life and those of your companions may be forfeit if you linger much longer.”

  “Father, but the wizard who was to receive the medallion will use it for evil. He will enslave all those who fall under his gaze. Do not ask me to give it to him,” Kyle pleaded.

  Suddenly, the winds whipped into a final gust and then fell silent. Kyle felt rain falling, striking him on the head and face. The dark figure pulled the hood back up over his head, turned and walked away.

  “Father?”

  “Father.” Kyle stumbled on a loose stone and tumbled to the ground.

  The rain increased in intensity and soaked Kyle to the bone. He called out to the retreating figure who continued onward and disappeared in the heavy rainfall.

  The sudden flash and heavy boom of thunder jostled Kyle as he lost sight of the dark shape and he found himself in his room at the Griffin Arms.

  The view through the window was of a gray overcast morning and there was the steady noise of a heavy rain that moved into the area during the night. He looked at the other bed and saw Adam sitting up looking at him.

  “Are you all right?” he asked. “You woke me up when you called out in your sleep.”

  “A little bit of a nightmare, that’s all. Sorry to wake you.” Kyle gave him a weak smile.

  “That’s okay.” Adam climbed out of bed and pulled his pants on. “I’m heading downstairs to see if I can get some warm water to clean up,” He said, and stepped out into the hallway.

  Kyle watched the door close behind his friend and then buried his face in his hands and wept.

  “Father, I wish...I wish...you were here right now. Gods...I miss you.” Kyle pulled his hands away from his face and looked into them. His hands were no longer a mirror of one another. His father was right. The change was progressing.

  * * * *

  The dwarf stepped through the door and closed it, keeping the rain at bay. He pulled his overcoat from his shoulders and gave it a hard shake, spraying droplets in all directions. On the wall behind the door were two sets of wooden pegs set into the wall at an upward angle. He chose an empty one on the lower set of pegs and hung his coat to dry.

  “May I help you?”

  The light voice caught him by surprise, waking him from his deep thoughts.

  “Yes, you can.”

  The stocky man stepped to Helen’s side and whispered several things to her to avoid being overheard. She appeared confused for a moment and then her face brightened. She pointed to the steps and then used the motion of her hand to mimic the path he would use to get to rooms six and seven. He thanked her and climbed the stairs.

  Outside the door he paused and absently touched the dagger hidden at his waist. He listened at the heavy door, but any noise behind it muffled to a low murmur. While his ears were left wanting, his nose was taking in all that it could.

  Before his rumbling stomach could announce him, he knocked several times.

  The door opened and the smell of eggs, bacon, country sausage, fresh biscuits and gravy whiffed past him and into the hallway. His stomach growled, a cross between rumbling thunder and a mountain lion’s low growl. It caught Kyle off guard.

  Legan Hillcutter had arrived.

  * * * *

  “Mr. Hillcutter?” Kyle asked, stepping aside to allow the dwarf access to the room.

  Amber and Delas sat at the table. Adam stood when Hillcutter entered, but kept his silence.

  The dwarf smiled. He stood at the head of the table, his hands resting on the back of one of the empty chairs.

  “Good morning. My name is Legan Hillcutter. I am a historian, cartographer and recorder of lore and legend. I am also a collector of rare and peculiar artifacts. A very peculiar artifact is the reason that I am at your door this early hour. This young man gave me a silver dagger that he had in his care. How he got it, I’m sure you all know, so I won’t go into that here.”

  As Legan finished, he pulled the silver dagger from his waistband and laid it on the table. He paused and then reached around to the other side of his belly and pulled an identical silver dagger from the waistband on that side. This one he held up in front of him.

  “This one I found in the door of my room at the inn where I am staying. It’s located not far from the tavern where we met. The dagger was used to hold a note in place, I assume to make a point.” Legan dropped the dagger next to the first one and pulled a folded piece of parchment from his pocket. Unfolding it, he read aloud.

  “Don’t get involved. This does not concern you.”

  “Mr. Hillcutter…” Kyle said.

  “Legan.”

  “Legan. I’m sorry there are those who now think you are involved in this.”

  “Lad,” Legan started, and then said, “Do you mind?” pulling the chair out, without waiting for an answer.

  “Please.” Kyle found a chair for himself as Legan sat down, grabbed a plate and began shoveling a pile of food on it from the steaming bowls before him.

  Obviously an assassin’s dagger did not affect his appetite, Kyle thought.

  “What direction are you traveling?” Legan asked between scoops.

  “Pardon?” Kyle said, trying to mask his surprise.

  Legan put his plate down on the table. He started counting off on his fingers as he spoke.

  “I’ve never seen you in town befo
re, so you are probably passing through. I see the shop wrappings you’ve discarded, so I assume your bulging packs in the corner are filled with supplies.”

  Legan smiled as he watched their faces turn from him to their packs and back again.

  “Since I’ve been warned not to become involved, I am going to assume whoever is interested in you, knows you are here. So I’d wager there is now an urgency to your departure.”

  Kyle and Adam looked at one another.

  “So, what direction are you traveling?”

  “South,” Kyle heard himself saying.

  “Well good, the trip won’t be a waste of my time. If you don’t mind, I would like to come along. My maps to the south are a bit spotty and I’ve been looking for a good reason to do some exploring and fill in the gaps. “

  “I’m not sure you want to join up with our group, Legan. Traveling with us may place you in some danger,” Kyle said.

  Legan stopped eating, put his fork down and picked up one of the daggers.

  “I could be in danger if I joined you? Just tell me one thing,” His bushy eyebrows knotted together in concern.

  They sat in silence until Amber spoke, “Yes?”

  “When do we leave?” Legan said, his face sullen and then he burst into raucous laughter. He tossed the dagger back onto the tabletop, picked up his fork and began eating again. Chuckling between bites at the surprised faces surrounding him.

  * * * *

  After eating, Adam followed Legan to the inn where he was staying, dodging wide puddles in the street as they worked their way through the heavy rain. They made it up to Legan’s room and Adam waited with him while he arranged his belongings in his pack. He wrestled with himself over what he should take and what he would leave with the owner of the inn. He brought several oilskin journals and cylinders, which he explained to Adam were map cases. When Adam repeated what Amber told them about the location contained in the map fragment, Legan selected several maps of the Southern region from the small stack that he had, rolled them, and placed them in the map cases.

  “Can I ask you a question?” Adam broke the long silence.

  Legan continued dropping clothes into his bag, scarcely looking up. “Yes?”

  “Why are you really doing this? You’re not involved with this, and it looks to be quite dangerous. You could have just ignored us, minded your own business and wouldn’t be placing yourself in harm’s way. Instead, you’ve joined up without even being asked.”

  “Do you believe in premonitions? Divine Providence?”

  “I’ve never thought about it one way or the other, to be honest,” Adam confessed.

  “I’ve seen some mighty strange things traveling these lands. I’ve been on battlefields when the sky has been black with arrows, and I’ve seen righteous solders untouched by them. I’ve seen abandoned wee ones, left to die in the woods, accepted and raised by wolves. I’ve seen the spirits of the dead visit the living with warnings for the future.”

  Legan paused, his tongue wet his dried lips and he continued. “Last night I had a vision. A dream, I don’t know what it was, but I saw the young man, your friend Kyle, in pain, his body shriveled as if he had been buried for over a year in a crypt. He was crying out for help, and I saw each of you, including your females, unable to help because of the terror they felt from a dark figure towering over him. I don’t know if those events will come to pass, but I feel compelled to join and be of assistance if possible.”

  Legan stepped to a chest of drawers along one wall, opened one long drawer and pulled out a wooden box. He slid it into his pack and closed the flap, tying it secure.

  “Ready to go?” he asked slipping the leather straps of his short sword’s scabbard through a ring on his belt.

  * * * *

  The group of five sat at the table near a large window. The glass panes were covered with steady streams of water from the heavy rains. They all had a steaming mug of soup in front of them. It was a staple of the inn, especially on days like this, the matron of the kitchen assured them.

  Lying on the table was one of Legan’s maps that he had removed from the cylinders he carried in his pack. He was looking it over, occasionally peering over the tops of the iron-framed lenses he wore to read some of the finer notes on the parchment.

  He caught Adam looking at him rather than the map and sighed.

  “What is it?”

  “You just look…I don’t know…scholarly.” Adam grinned at the thought of Legan teaching a class of young ones. A book in one hand and his short sword in the other.

  “This is no turnip,” he said, tapping his forehead. “At least, it’s never been confused with one, as far as I know.”

  “Well, what are we looking at?” Adam asked, standing up, mug in hand, and looked over the dwarf’s shoulder.

  “This is a map of the southern regions, or at least the areas that have been committed to parchment. See these huge areas here and here? They’re behind these mountain ranges, they box them in, cut them off, and as far as I know, have never been documented.”

  “Is that where we need to go?” Adam asked.

  Legan laughed heartily, “No, I don’t think you would last past the foothills of those mountains. Me? Yes, but you? No.”

  Adam looked at him, anger growing in his belly. He pulled in a breath and held it, his shoulders squaring off and color rising on his face. Legan half turned and looked at Adam, defusing the growing anger with a smile.

  “I’m only kidding my brave adventurer and breaker of young hearts.”

  “Kyle, here, look here.” Legan pointed to the map. “We’re going to have to leave the Barrow Road once we pass through the southern gate to get to the mountain pass. It’ll be some interesting travels over some open country. I’ve seen that look before. Don’t worry lad, I think this little group of yours has skills that haven’t been tapped into yet.”

  Legan folded the map carefully and inserted it into a waterproof packet which he slid into an inside pocket of his overcoat.

  Kyle upended the mug, finishing the last of his soup.

  “Well, I guess we should head out,” Kyle said, dropping a couple of copper coins on the table.

  Chapter Nine

  The day stayed overcast as the group traveled through the fields and light woods covering the land as far as the eye could see. It rained throughout the day, varying from a light mist to thundering downpours that forced the group to stop, huddle under a tree, and wait for it to slow. The wind varied as well and when it was blowing its strongest, the rain stung their exposed faces.

  When Kyle felt they had gone on far enough, he steered the group toward the shelter of a cluster of trees and they broke for a mid-day meal. The trees provided enough cover for them to pull back the hoods on their waterproofed cloaks.

  Adam managed to start a small fire, using dry tinder he pulled from his pack. It was a smoky fire due to the damp wood, but it was comforting to have some warm food after the long slog through the wet terrain.

  They sat around the small fire talking among themselves, asking Legan questions about local lore and the myths that they had heard growing up around Whiteforge and beyond. He proved to be both a well of knowledge and a masterful storyteller as he managed to impart excitement into what might have been otherwise dull history. Adam watched as Kyle walked away into the woods as Legan told his tales, and when Kyle didn’t return, Adam followed his trail.

  Adam found him leaning against a tree, his gloves off, examining the skin on his hand. He brought it close to his face, turning it over in the dim moonlight.

  “What are you looking at?” Adam asked, startling Kyle from his place, deep in his own thoughts.

  “Nothing,” Kyle said, quickly putting his gloves back on. “Just looking to see if the runes were fading.”

  Adam waited for Kyle to add more, and when he didn’t, he asked, “So, are they fading?”

  “No.” Kyle pulled at the gloves, stripping them from his hands. He threw the gloves to the
ground angrily.

  “They’re not fading. They’re not fading and we’re wandering in the rain toward what will probably be our deaths, because of that stupid medallion. They’re not fading and Jennifer has been taken…kidnapped by men because of what I’ve found. If by blind luck, we manage to find her, we’ll probably end up dead too. I just…” Kyle rested his forehead against the tree.

  Adam clasped his friend’s shoulder. “Kyle, it’ll work out. We’ll find Jennifer, she’ll be okay, and we’ll get that curse removed.”

  Kyle looked into his friend’s grim face. He sighed deeply, picked up his gloves and pulled them on.

  “Come on, we need to get moving.”

  * * * *

  Kyle and Adam broke through the brush and found the group deserted the meager fire. Legan sat at the base of a tree, Delas and Amber cross-legged on either side of him. Legan’s pipe dangled from his lips. He took a small drag from it and blew the smoke skyward. Then he turned to Delas, the pipe stuck in the corner of his mouth.

  “Aye, but I’ve never taken a shine to magic, myself. Begging your pardon young miss, but I’m fonder of the things I can see,” he pulled the pipe from his mouth, “and hold in my hands. Just my opinion, you understand.”

  Delas nodded and smiled at the dwarf. “I understand. It will make it easier for me to only have to protect Kyle, Adam and Amber with my defensive magic.”

  “Now, now. What I meant to say was…” Legan started and then burst into laughter followed by first Delas and then Amber.

  “Ah, Kyle and Adam have returned to us,” Legan said, cutting off his laughter. “Are we off?” He tapped his pipe against the sole of his boot and crushed out the smoldering embers.

  “Yeah, Legan. It looks like the weather isn’t going to cooperate, so get your stuff packed away.” Kyle picked up his pack and secured the straps.

  Kyle’s weather prediction was correct as after a few hours of walking, it began to rain again, this time much harder than it had previously. The group marched through the driving rain, their heads down, their feet stepping one in front of the other in the slick mud.

  The terrain itself was changing. What had been soft earth when they stopped for lunch was gradually becoming hard and rocky, with stones protruding from the ground. The formerly flat earth changed into rolling hills made up of smooth weathered stone sprinkled randomly with withered pale scrub grass. They passed through an area with jagged stone structures that didn’t provide any refuge from the rain. The light conversation they passed back and forth when they first started off dwindled to silence, as each was lost in a world of their own thoughts, the only sound was the steady tapping of rain against their cloaks. Daylight slowly faded as the day wore on.