The Horrid Tragedy of the Counts Berok: A Comedy Fantasy

by Galen Wolf

  "No," said Turvius in measured tones. "The corpses. You get them out while I go back to the house. I've forgotten my hanky. I'll catch you up. By the way, pick a big corpse to carry you on his back. The water of the river is so polluted that you have to keep your mouth above water or you'll die of poisoning. Do you know," he said, more in sorrow than anger, "that some people just empty their refuse straight into the water? They really are lacking in community spirit."

  With that Turvius ran back to the house to get his handkerchief.

  The party set off with Mavis and Zventibold at its head. Mick and John came along for the crack. On the undead clomped, their pale, dead, glowing eyes frightening everything that saw them. Even the rats, after the first tentative gnaw, ran away. Mick and John soon grew bored as the undead were very slow, and they turned and left, going back to the stable for horse fun with oats and young ladies who liked to stroke them.

  The undead made little sound as they went ever onward except an eerie trailing as they dragged their lifeless feet over the cobbles. The shuffling horde was totally naked. The orange stitching was still clearly visible and set against the pale blue of their flesh gave the whole affair a carnival atmosphere. Turvius caught up with them after they had gone but a few yards.

  Still the undead went on inexorably towards their goal. In the darkness before dawn, the streets of Piraktesh were quiet and the few thieves and vagabonds who saw the strange procession ran silently away - their minds bursting with fear as the rules of reason that governed their paltry lives were shattered and their sanity unseated.

  Soon they were descending through Hagg Hill towards the mighty River Szerkia that flowed wide, flat and ridden with faeces through the city of Piraktesh. As they came to the river's edge, Turvius took command.

  "You!" he pointed to a huge, tall, fat cadaver that was made from a combination of a criminal butcher, half a buxom barmaid and what seemed to be some hairy animal. Turvius could not remember stitching that himself but he had noticed the disappearance of Tony the Donkey some days previously from the kitchen garden behind the West Wing wall. Zventibold had been naughty. His haste overmanning simple good taste. "You!" he said again. "Come here."

  The creature stumbled forwards.

  "Lift me onto your shoulders."

  The creature extended its arms and grabbed hold of him. Unfortunately it lifted him awkwardly by his genitals. Though a dwarf whose body had wizened in the service of magic, he still had those gnarly nuts and they smarted. As he was hoisted, Zventibold thought his dwarf father seemed in pain. He raised a hand in concern, but Turvius waved him down. "There are bigger things to worry about than my balls," he said. Even so he seemed glad to arrive on the shoulders which he soon confirmed had once been in the possession of Tony the Donkey.

  "Zventibold, get up on of their shoulders."

  Zventibold tried to climb onto the Mavis creature's svelte shoulders but Turvius said, "Zventibold, pick a larger one. It, I mean - she - is not tall enough."

  Zventibold looked hurt. "I will not be parted from her Turvius," was all he said.

  "Very well boy," said Turvius, "but keep your mouth shut when we enter the river."

  Zventibold seated himself securely and then said, "Right then, into the river…"

  The undead formed an orderly line at the embankment edge and then one by one they waded into the river. When the current began to tug, they started swimming. The two sorcerers on their respective mounts were at their head.

  "I must say, I'm very proud of the work you've done on these Zventi," spluttered Turvius, trying desperately to keep his mouth above the scummy water. Zventibold seemed about to answer but his words were lost as he swallowed all the floating contents of a pot. From then they maintained their silence until they came in sight of the palace wall.

  They pulled themselves out of the river. Their clothes were foul and smelling. The corpses eyes phosphorescent and blinking. They stood back, waiting for a command. Turvius and Zventibold dismounted. Zventibold thought he would surely be ill. The undead stood in their serried ranks, prepared for anything.

  Turvius stood in front of his troops, clearing his throat and preparing his speech. He began:"Men, women and others. Collectively I may call you the undead. Not for no reason are you here. You have been recalled from beyond the grave, or in most cases from beyond the gibbet, to do a job. And that job is not an idle one. Your purpose is to complete it. Your purpose is to storm the citadel of the Autocrat - the beast that killed you in the first place - except the ones we killed, and for that, sorry, and to Tony the Donkey especially sorry; you were a fine friend. But for the majority of you this will form a kind of revenge. And for those who have no quarrel with the Autocrat, think of it as helping out your mates. I have faith in you men and others - faith that you will do it. Put fear behind you and let us onward!"

  He stood as the slow handclap of the corpses came and he bowed and blushed slightly. Then he led them to the first obstacle - the wall. He said to Zventibold, "Zventibold my son, do not fear. Victory is within our grasp. Take half the creatures and lead them along the wall, eliminating any opposition you should come across. Meanwhile I will lead my corpses over the wall and then through the Lawn and Gibbet set piece garden - the site of my disgrace. After that I will make for the main gate of the dining hall."

  They parted in silence and grim looks and Turvius led his section up the wall. Meeting no guards, he signaled to Zventibold who had climbed up a few yards to the right. Turvius made for the watchtower and, again finding it empty, he and his things descended by the stairs into the garden. By one of the fountains they found a sleeping guard. He awoke but even though Turvius ordered one of his creatures to kill him, there was no need - his heart burst with the horror of what he beheld. Turvius laughed quietly to himself. His plans were working out just fine. They were half way in and still the alarm had not been raised.

  Now, in the darkness, they ran across the garden. The gibbets swung slightly in the night breeze. It could not be long before it was dawn. As he spoke, Turvius noticed the first light like a scarf of grey chiffon away in the east. By the time they were up to the palace itself they could dimly see the garden gates were shut and there were bolts in them. Turvius had not been aware of this possibility. His heart sank and he looked along the wall for some possible entrance into the palace. About fifty yards from the gate were the long patio windows of the Dining Hall. Turvius smiled to himself. Although the curtains were drawn, the glass would present no obstacle to the surging hordes of the undead. No one had attacked the Imperial Palace for two thousand years and Turvius doubted the guards would be awake. Turvius knew exactly the layout of the palace and where the Autocrat had his sleeping quarters. He also knew where all the guardrooms were for he could never forget anything about that palace - that home he had been denied, especially the places he had done secret wee-wees.

  Behind him his forces ran like preternatural wolves. Their excitement speeding them up. Soon they would be on the glass doors of the palace. Up to the left, Turvius heard a shout. Some guard in the faint light of dawn had seen them. There was a call to arms. Then there was a babble of confused shoutings and as the guards realised what was attacking them, shouts of pure fear. Someone seemed to be rousing the palace. In some windows lights were lit. People shouted questions above the clamour, but no answers were received - at least none that availed the askers. The undead were upon the glass panes and with a silent scream, the glass shattered in huge shards, bringing down the curtains and the wooden frames. The undead ran on, even though many were pierced with vicious barbs of glass. The Imperial Dining Hall was in darkness almost, but as the curtains fell, the tables and chairs became visible in the new dawn delivered to the room by the destruction of the windows. The undead stormed forward, kicking over and splintering all that lay in their way.

  Turvius knew the way to go. "Follow me!" he shouted. Battle fury coursed through his small hunched form. The doors into the main hall were all locked but this coul
d not stop the flow of the undead. The doors crashed down, letting the light flood in. There in the main hall was a handful of Imperial Pikemen. They stood their ground but fear shook their hands. As the dead approached with Turvius on the shoulders of the Donkey Man once more, some of them turned and fled, but a few stayed. Their blood splashed under the feet of the first wave of cadavers as they roared forwards.

  "Onwards!" shouted Turvius. "Onwards!"

  They coursed up the broad stairway. On the first landing a group of guards formed a barricade. Turvius had been saving up one of his double fire brain blasters for an occasion such as this. He raised both his hands and from them streamed two rays of pure energy. The men exploded and gobbets of humanity were thrown everywhere - some in Turvius's mouth, which had been opened to make a shriek of victory. He wiped his lips with his hanky. "To the left now!" he shouted but now from the direction of the main doors, he heard the clash of steel and the snap of bone. Zventibold's force had arrived but was hard pressed by the Imperial Guard, which had by this time mobilized much of its strength.

  Turvius could not afford to wait and give aid. He wanted Axtos too badly. He and a handful of his monsters went on towards the sleeping chambers of the Autocrat. Then down the corridor he saw the large gilded door and in front of it, five guards. Turvius ordered his things to attack. As they grappled with the guards, he managed to open the door and slip in.

  Inside the room it was dark. To remedy this he picked up a priceless shard of Third Dynasty earthenware that lay at hand and hurled it through the window, smashing it and tearing the blind. There, he saw, under the satin sheets, the huge lump that betrayed the presence of Axtos. It was quivering slightly.

  "Dog!" snarled Turvius. "I've come for you. I've waited thirty years for this. You exiled me on one of your criminal whims. And now I want to see you die. Look at me!"

  The shape did not move.

  "Axtos, if you do not show yourself, I'll kill you where you lie!"

  The shape did not stir even yet, and so with a cry of rage, Turvius unleashed a golden firestorm at the bed. It blew the sheets away and fire consumed the shape. As Turvius looked he saw the inflated shape of an elephant bladder. He felt the cold icy cut of the knife enter his liver and tear upward. He felt the fetid breath of Axtos on his neck. "So Turvius, you thought it would be that easy, did you? Die now scum, die!" went the effeminate voice of the Autocrat.

  Turvius pulled himself off the knife and staggered toward the door. He crashed through it and saw that most of his corpse creatures had disintegrated into their component parts. The stinking water of the Szerkia had rotted the threads that held them together. He ran onwards, bleeding profusely. He made it to the landing and saw Zventibold with the few remaining corpses fighting the Imperial reinforcements under Captain Vardo and George, heir to the Diamond Throne. Zventibold was hard pressed but his hands still darted sending sparkling, lethal spells to all directions. Turvius managed to shout to Zventibold. "Flee, lad. Save yourself. I'm finished. The day is lost."

  Zventibold, who had been upset at the disintegration of Mavis, turned round just in time to see the laughing figure of the Autocrat finish his father with a dagger thrust to the heart. Amongst his tears, Zventibold shouted, "I will avenge thee father!" and ran out of the Main Hall into the garden. Through the gibbets and over the lawn he ran. The Imperial soldiery were fast on his heels but he managed to climb the wall before he was hit in the fleshy part of his hump by an arrow. In the dawn, against the rising sun, his small figure was silhouetted at the top of the wall, and then, noiselessly, he fell into the dark waters of the Szerkia.

  Part the Second Next…

  14. Another Finding

  The day was still young when Melissa Budge, daughter of Albert Budge the Imperial Carpet Cleaner, crossed the small footbridge over the mighty River Szerkia on her way home from market. The sun shone, the birds chirruped and, if she was poor, she was happy. Her hair was long and black; her eyes were a shining blue. Her figure was perfect. She was indeed a delight to the eye and the cause of many a broken heart in the neighbourhood.

  She sang gaily to herself as she stepped onto the footbridge, the slight breeze ruffling the white cotton of her bodice. By chance she looked down towards the murky green water and suddenly her notice was caught by the figure of a young man bobbing in the river by the bank. Being a kind soul she rushed over to him and tried to pull him out. To her great surprise the body was very light and she managed easily to lift him onto the bank. He stank of the river water and she saw that the fabric of his trousers had rotted away to reveal a birthmark in the shape of a dark star on his buttock. It was then also that her keen eye took in his ungainly hump. Just then he stirred. She was surprised to find him alive. His eyes opened and, weakly blinking to clear the river slime from them, he saw her. His mind was flooded with her loveliness. All that came to him was to say, "You're so beautiful."

  She blushed. His accent told her that he was a nobleman and she decided to introduce herself. She extended one of her fine, graceful hands and said, "Hullo, my name's Melissa - Melissa Budge. Pleased to meet you I'm sure."

  He took her hand in his, forgetting to wipe it first. If Miss Budge minded the slime, she did not show it and she tried to help him up. He was too weak however and collapsed back onto the stone edge of the embankment. As he lay there he stared at her, the love light filling his life. He was taken with this laughing, dark haired, maiden of the summer dawn. She shook her hair and the sun highlighted its every bouncing thread. Her teeth flashed. Her eyes sparkled. "Wait there," she said. "I'll go and fetch my father. You're too heavy to lift on my own."

  Zventibold wasn't going anywhere - he was besotted with this ravishing creature. He also had a heavy barbed arrowhead embedded in his hump.

  Soon she arrived back with her father. He was pushing a wheelbarrow. "We should we 'elp 'im Mel old gel? Tell me that if you can? Will it pay the bills? Will it bring back your old mother - Hector rest 'er," he was saying.

  "We'll help him because he's a nobleman and besides I've taken quite a shine to 'im."

  When Mr Budge saw Zventibold's wretched state, he laughed bitterly and said, "What - you tellin' me 'e's an aristo? You gel, don't you go runnin' after a stinkin' 'ound like this and George, 'eir to the Diamond Throne keen on you. Don't you spoil my chances o' bein' kept in my old age."

  "George isn't keen on me father, 'e's keen to get 'is 'ands on my lithe young body - that's what 'e's keen on. But I haven't given in to 'im yet, and I shan't until he proposes properly."

  "Don't you go playin' 'ard to get with George my gel. If 'e wants your lithe, young body, by 'Ector he can 'ave it."

  "Father, I'm not going to tell you any more - will you please lift the poor gentleman out of the slime?"

  Zventibold groaned as they took him and put him into the wheelbarrow. From the noises he was making, he was obviously not comfortable as the wheelbarrow trundled towards the Budges' house over the roughly cobbled streets.

  The smoke rose almost straight upwards into the sky from the chimney of 41 Rubble Street, Piraktesh. Inside the rooms sweltered in the oppressive heat of the Pirakteshi summer. It was hard to say why the fires were on as it only made things worse. Albert Budge opened his front door and walked into the darkness of his box-like front room. In there before him was his only daughter Melissa who had prepared his tea as she had done every evening since the death of his beloved wife Sybil. Tonight however was different, for Melissa was cooking for three. They had a visitor - Zventibold Fifth Count of Berok; though they didn't know it. Zventibold, after being ministered to by Melissa, had recovered somewhat and was sitting in the corner, in the barrow, totally enthralled by Melissa's beauty. It would be true to say that during the day their eyes had met more than once and that a certain flash of realisation had passed between them and they had both turned away quickly, greatly embarrassed.

  Now her father had returned, Melissa came to meet him and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

  "Hull
o, dad," she said. "Had a nice day?"

  "Oh, ar - alright. We are supposed to be cleaning tapestries at the moment but do you know what 'appened last night eh? I bet you don't. Last night some renegade lord - you've 'eard of the weird Count of Berok? Well, last night is seems that 'e broke into the Imperial Palace and tried to kill the Autocrat - 'Ector keep 'im. Then when 'is army of the sorcerous undead was all beat by the glorious Imperial Guard, 'e ran and although 'e was shot, they was unable to find 'is corpse, so they assume 'e's still alive. What a rum do, eh? They've offered a reward of 5000 Pirakteshi Jells. A fortune for a man like me. What I wouldn't do to get that much money!" Melissa and Zventibold hear Albert rub his hands dryly together in the darkness of the room.

  "Cor Blimey, you know what else?" He continued. "The Autocrat 'as confiscated this Berok's Palace and all 'is land and the manservant who was at home in the palace when the Secret Police called round. They are to 'ang that one 'igh in three days time in the Public Square. I've got the toffee mandate for it in the bag as well. Oh, thank you my dear, there's my tea." Albert Budge soon tucked into the steaming pile of sludge that was his nightly fare.

  "Dad, aren't you going to ask 'ow - 'ow.. Erm, I'm sorry, sir but I didn't catch your name."

  Zventibold had to think quickly. He had been extremely perturbed to hear of William's arrest and forthcoming hanging. He spluttered a while from the bottom of the wheelbarrow in which he lay and then he said, "Alec Bjorn," he said. "Alec Bjorn is my name. I'm not from here. I'm a joiner by trade."