The Limbs of the Dead (A Wielders Novel Book 3)

by Max Anthony

  It had only taken a few minutes for Skulks to create and animate Saucer Face, but this still meant that the escaping mini-Skulks could be a considerable way ahead of them. Aware of the urgency, Skulks was surprised when Saucer Face slowed to a walk only a little way outside the Chamber Building gardens. Skulks looked up and around, to see if there was any indication that they’d already reached their destination. They were surrounded on all sides by nondescript shops and dwellings, many reaching high into the night sky. There was nothing to indicate that Zera Graves or a potion-stealing clone of Skulks might be close. Something was close however, or rather someone was.

  “How’re you doing, sir?” asked the sausage vendor, a jolly-looking gentleman of middle years. “Out for a nice walk, are you?” The sausage vendor could somehow see Saucer Face clearly and didn’t seem in the least bit disturbed by his new customer. Although Saucer Face made no sound, the sausage vendor continued his one-sided conversation.

  “The nights are getting a bit colder now, aren’t they?” The man gave an exaggerated shiver. “Nothing like a nice sausage to keep you warm, eh?”

  By this point, Skulks had arrived and in spite of himself, found his eyes roving over the man’s wares.

  “I’ll have three of those ones, please,” Skulks said, pointing at the largest sausages remaining, which looked inexplicably fresh given that they’d probably been sat there all day. “And my son will have a couple of those ones.”

  Handing over the purchases, the sausage vendor thanked Skulks. “Nice looking lad you’ve got there. Very polite, too.”

  “He’s been brought up well,” replied Skulks as he took his leave. Saucer Face had a sausage clutched in each hand and was shoving them against the area its mouth would have been if it had possessed one. Skulks detected disappointment.

  “Let’s just get on,” he urged his creation. Saucer Face took off once more, with Skulks following.

  It wasn’t long before Skulks found himself queuing in a late-night bakery, having been led there by Saucer Face. Skulks sighed - things were not going to plan. It appeared that the now-headless body which had spawned from his flesh had inherited several of Skulks’ flaws, most specifically his easily-distracted nature and his insatiable appetite. Even worse, Saucer Face had a five Sliver coin in one hand, so it had evidently managed to steal from someone as it made its way to the bakery. Idly, Skulks wondered if he was morally responsible for this theft, given that it was a replica of himself that had committed the crime. Skulks would not normally have cared a jot about such things, but as head of the Office of Covert Operations, he was starting to develop a sense of responsibility. Even, perhaps, a sense of custodianship over the well-being of Hardened’s citizens.

  As they waited, with Skulks tapping his feet impatiently, a woman ahead of them in the queue turned around.

  “Well, you’re a bonny one, aren’t you?” she asked Saucer Face, bending over to ruffle the area that one would normally expect to find hair. The woman looked up at Skulks. “A bit shy, is he?” she asked.

  Skulks was rarely bewildered, but as he stood in the queue waiting for Saucer Face to be served, he felt something distinctly akin to bewilderment. The first lady was joined by another from the queue and soon there was a small crowd clucking and cooing over Saucer Face, in total disregard for the fact that he was entirely naked and looked like the most absurd excuse for a child that anyone could possibly imagine. It was more than Skulks could bear. Feeling like he was trapped in some sort of bizarre dream, he scooped Saucer Face up under his arm and fled the shop, leaving behind a disappointed crowd of women.

  In the street outside, Skulks set his creation down upon the pavement in order to have a quiet word with it about the duties it was expected to fulfil. Before he could deliver his fatherly speech, Saucer Face ran off again, scampering at speed along the pavement. Recalling his earlier unsatisfying experience with the tailing of Pumper, Skulks set off in pursuit.

  After another fifteen minutes of running, Skulks was beginning to feel hope that Saucer Face was now fully focused on its task. It had run past at least three vendors of street food and hadn’t as much as hesitated when it ran through Tavern Square. Furthermore, Skulks had been watching it carefully in case it decided to do any more pocket-picking and even though there had been plenty of opportunity for it to do so, it had refrained.

  The next time Saucer Face slowed down to a stroll, Skulks was not surprised to find out where he had been led. It was a building he’d visited in the very recent past and seemed like the perfect place for a woman such as Zera Graves to hide. There it was: the Hardened City Mortuary.

  Eighteen

  The Hardened City Mortuary was a round-the-clock operation. Death was known to arrive at unexpected moments and the Chamber Council felt it important that facilities should always be available to store the dead safely until the process of identification had been completed and the bodies were ready for their final journey to the city’s crematorium.

  On this night, a young man called Lanky was on the graveyard shift. It was an in-joke amongst the employees that every shift was the graveyard shift, but on this evening, Lanky found himself perched on a wooden stool behind a desk in the entrance lobby. Lanky was the new boy, which was why he’d been lumbered with this most unwanted of all shifts. He didn’t even want to work in the mortuary, but his mother had secretly applied on his behalf, not content to let young Lanky lie in bed until all hours, having his dinner made for him and his laundry done.

  As Lanky watched, the large entrance door swung silently back on its hinges, but no-one came through the aperture. Though fond of an easy life, Lanky was a sensible lad and immediately dismissed wind as the cause of the door swinging open in this way. For one, there was no wind outside and secondly, in order to have blown open the stiff main door, the wind would have been strong enough to have flattened half of the city.

  However, he was aware that new employees were mercilessly targeted by the more experienced hands, so Lanky put it down to a practical joke from one of the older assistants who lived in the houses adjacent. Having raised himself from his seat in order to crane his head for a better look, Lanky had just re-perched his buttocks upon his seat when he observed the inner door to the morgue drift silently open. Mouth agape, he thought he caught a hint of a shape moving swiftly through the door, heading deeper into the building. If he’d not known better, he’d have sworn that this shape had a saucer for a head, with a strange trumpet-like object protruding from one side. Scooping up his half-eaten packed lunch, Lanky left the morgue, vowing that tomorrow he’d apply for that job he’d seen advertised in the butcher’s across the road from where he lived. At least he could be sure that the meat in there wouldn’t start opening doors.

  Unaware that the reception desk was now woefully undermanned, Skulks trailed Saucer Face deeper into the morgue. It was distinctly chilly, but not so much that the air steamed when Skulks exhaled. The interior floor was grey-tiled, as if to match the drab, grey exterior of the building itself. The walls were painted an inappropriately uplifting shade of plum. Glass orbs in the ceiling projected a weary light into the rooms and corridors, seemingly in conflict with the colour of the walls.

  Things were shortly to become chaotic, but for the moment Skulks was still as he listened carefully for sounds that might betray the presence of Zera Graves or her mini-Skulks servant. For a time, the silence was absolute, which Skulks realised was unusual as he expected employees to be about their work. Then the silence was disturbed by the noise of a door closing, followed by a shuffling sound, coming from up ahead.

  With his dagger-swords already drawn, Skulks advanced quickly towards the source of the noise, doing his best to remain unseen and at the same time using his Wielder’s sight in order to pick out any foe which might also be trying to remain unseen. There were doors to either side, mostly unlocked, but without viewing windows, so Skulks was unable to see inside the rooms they hid, not that he was inclined to investigate further.

/>   The shuffling became louder and Skulks was able to discern that it came from more than a single source. Saucer Face led him unerringly towards the sounds. The corridor they followed turned sharply to the right, then to the left, before it opened into a large room. This room was carpeted and had comfortable-looking seats lined up against one wall. There were pictures hanging on the walls, depicting trees, rivers and mountains. These pictures of peaceful tranquillity had been chosen to distract the people sitting in this room, because it was the waiting area for those who had come to see the bodies of recently-deceased relatives or friends. Had there been anyone sitting here at this time, they would have been very distracted indeed, for the room was crowded with the previously-dead population of the morgue, re-animated and bumbling aimlessly across the carpet.

  In their gowns, they shuffled here and there as if they had been instructed to gather, but without knowing the purpose. In the wan light, their skins seemed pasty and pale, even where they had possessed a healthy sun-tanned glow in life. Without a care in the world, Saucer Face strolled across the room, elbowing its way through the shambling corpses as if it were seeking out a new jacket in a busy jumble sale. There were three further exit corridors from this room and Saucer Face headed straight on.

  Skulks was not so cavalier with his own skin and stayed put, out of sight. His previous experience of the re-animated body parts suggested to him that Zera Graves’ creatures were not especially perceptive, but nonetheless, he didn’t want to risk crossing the room in case they saw him. Lots of eyes made things difficult for him and he didn’t fancy the idea of having to fight off forty pairs of dead hands trying to choke him. A treacherous and greedy little voice spoke up in his mind, reminding him of the diamond he had almost claimed when fighting the losing battle with the mound of body parts, but he brushed the voice away and locked it deep within his mind, next to the voice which advised him on fashion sense and another voice which desperately wanted to ask Captain Honey out for a meal somewhere nice.

  Looking for inspiration, Skulks spotted a low table which displayed a cheap, decorative vase. He picked the vase up and threw it as hard as he could over the heads of the shuffling throng. It sailed into the left-hand corridor, where it shattered loudly, the broken shards tinkling clearly over the tiled floor. Skulks had hoped that this noise would create a diversion to allow him to get across the room, but unfortunately it did not have the desired effect. Four or five of the dead people lurched in the direction of the corridor, but they quickly lost interest when they saw that there was nothing of note for them to try and bludgeon to death.

  With things not working out as intended, Skulks enacted another plan. A plan so daring and so breath-taking in its scope and stupidity, that he almost fainted with happiness when he thought of it. A quick sortie into one of the rooms he’d passed provided him with his disguise and soon the number of re-animated dead was increased by one, as a new member of the horde shambled its way slowly into the waiting room, grunting and gurgling in a most plaintive manner. Although this new entrant to the room looked superficially to be wandering as randomly and aimlessly as its colleagues, had any of the other re-animated dead been looking closely, they would have noticed that the new corpse veered gradually towards a table upon which an uneaten chicken sandwich inexplicably lay. With a trip and a stumble, the corpse half-fell onto the table before heading towards one of the exit corridors, into which it eventually tumbled. Gasping and chuntering, it blundered its way along this new corridor, finally turning away out of sight around a corner.

  Having successfully avoided the clutches of the not-too-ravening dead, Skulks pulled his stolen gown over his head and checked his spoils: one chicken sandwich. Although disappointed at his haul, Skulks was philosophical on the matter, realising the dead were not generally renowned for their wealth. Even the stale chicken sandwich represented something of a victory in the circumstances, he supposed. In front of him, Saucer Face waited, silent and still, having the infinite patience of a small, decapitated body with a saucer for a head and a magical monocle for an eye.

  As he ate the chicken sandwich, which had too little butter for his liking, Skulks found himself thinking that he didn’t really care too much for Saucer Face. Although Chibbles had started out as an arch-rival, Skulks felt that there had been a bond between them, which showed itself through the monkey’s brave sacrifice in order to save Skulks from the mound of body parts in Zera Graves’ basement. He felt no bond with Saucer Face, which he considered odd, for was not Saucer Face flesh of his flesh? There was something unmistakeably smug about this replacement for Chibbles. As if it knew important things that it wouldn’t tell even if Skulks had bothered to give it a mouth.

  Having provided Skulks with time for these few moments of reflection, Saucer Face continued its journey and now headed up a flight of stairs to the first floor of the morgue. Hardened was a big city and it needed a big morgue. Even though its citizens were generally well-fed and well cared-for, death was not uncommon in a city so populated. Skulks paused on the stairs to listen, knowing that only fools and an occasional over-confident Wielder would rush headlong into the unexpected. If he tuned out the bumping and scraping noises from the room he had just exited, he could hear new sounds. There was the pitter-pattering of feet. It sounded just like the mini necromancers, but louder as if made by something much heavier. The pitter-pattering was rapid, as if a huge mouse patrolled the corridors of the morgue.

  Confident that he could best even the most ferocious of mice, Skulks completed the ascent to the top of the stairs, which ended at another large room with corridors branching off. By now, Skulks was heartily sick of corridors and the morgue itself. His attention span was short enough at the best of times, but the monotony of the building was already starting to pull at him.

  “How I wish to be in the empty office of a rich merchant, with a locked money-safe in front of me,” he moaned to himself, for it had been a good few days since he’d been able to partake of a high-grade theft. The houses of rich smugglers in Casks seemed like a long time past and he idly wondered how many Scroats Lula Grindy had got for selling Hurda Gloam’s golden foot.

  Skulks didn’t have long with his musings for he was distracted by a shape in the distance. It had been too quick for him to see it fully, but something large, fast and peculiarly-shaped had darted across a corridor ahead. Unsurprisingly, it was in this direction which Saucer Face headed, declining the option to remain hidden as it walked brazenly along this new corridor. Skulks was many centuries old, and if he’d learned anything in those years, it was that it was always best to remain unseen when he was uncertain. In fact, his Thief’s Senses were telling him the exact same thing. While these Thief’s Senses were an excellent barometer of potential threat and while Skulks enjoyed their advice, they were not entirely perfect.

  “Ribbet!” croaked a frog.

  Skulks looked down at his feet, to find the front half of a large grey frog sticking out from under his boot. The colour of the frog was perfectly matched to the tiles, almost as if it were intentional that it remain hidden until a Wielder happened by to stand upon it.

  “Ribbet!” it croaked again, louder this time owing to the pain of having its hind legs squashed between boot and stone.

  Skulks had now been outwitted and betrayed twice in the past week by frogs. Determined that he would suffer their devious schemes no longer, he twisted his heel, expunging the life from the grey frog so that it could ribbet no more. These amphibians were quickly scaling the ladder of peeves he had and were now only a few rungs below baboons.

  Before he had a chance to enjoy a modest feeling of satisfaction, something big and heavy barrelled past him. It caught Skulks on the chest as it went by, hurling him into a wall with great force and knocking the air from his lungs. Gasping, Skulks tried to right himself before he was struck again by a shape which pitter-pattered away and out of sight around a corner. Dazed and battered, Skulks shook his head to clear it. He’d caught a glimpse of what i
t was that had cannoned into him. In spite of the danger to his own life, he really didn’t want it to be what he thought it was.

  The pitter-pattering, which had faded into the distance, became louder once more as if the shape had taken a while to slow down and change direction, ready for another charge. This time Skulks was ready for it, and he rolled to one side as the creature shot by, a dagger-sword flicking out to open a wide cut in the dead flesh. In spite of his best efforts, the speed of the galloping creature was sufficient to wrench the blade out of Skulks’ hand and the dagger-sword clattered across the floor of the corridor.

  Seizing its opportunity, Saucer Face, which had given no sign of concern at the events happening nearby, scooped up the dropped weapon and fled down the corridor. With his dander raised by this act of duplicity, Skulks gave chase with his remaining dagger-sword firmly in hand. Behind him, the pitter-pattering increased in volume as the shape pursued Skulks.

  “I’ve treated Saucer Face well,” Skulks said to himself as he ran. “Like he was my very own son. And how does he repay me? With this act of wanton treachery!” This lecture only intensified Skulks’ anger towards the wayward Saucer Face and it gave him the extra pace he needed to close the gap. The target of his ire was still ahead, but labouring under the size and weight of a weapon meant for a fully-grown man.

  Aware of the danger, Saucer Face jinked left and right, trying to throw Skulks off its tail. It also cycled clumsily through a variety of concealments that it had inherited from the parent Skulks, but Skulks was not fooled by these poor attempts to use his own tricks against him. Reaching out on the run, Skulks jabbed his dagger-sword into Saucer Face’s back, sending his creation into a skittering slide over the tiled floor.

  Before he could take advantage of the situation, Skulks felt something small hit him on the side of his face, though with considerable force. Displeased at this distraction, Skulks saw that the potion-stealing mini-Skulks had decided to join the party. It was no longer holding the potions, but had a mortuary knife in one hand which it drew back with the intention of stabbing Skulks in the gullet. Its wide, black eyes opened even wider when Skulks treated it to a dismissive backhand blow, knocking it into the air where it came down upon Saucer Face, fouling the latter’s attempts to regain its feet.