Tales from the New Earth: Volume One

by Thompson, J. J.

  “Aeris, look. I'm not going to waste all of the good work you guys did getting me back on my feet and back to normal. And I promise you that I won't suicidally attack the first dragon I see. But when the time is right, I'll take my shot.” He grinned at Aeris' sudden eye roll. “And I hope you'll be there with me.”

  The elemental nodded once and looked past Simon to smile at the cleric.

  “Now you see what I have to deal with, day in and day out. It's worse than being a babysitter.”

  Clara had watched the interplay silently and now her gloomy expression gave way to giggles.

  “You two should take that act on the road, do you know that?”

  Simon chuckled.

  “I thought that we had,” he replied. He finished his tea, stood up and stretched to loosen up his stiff back.

  “It will take Kronk a few hours to get here, Clara. And, since I'll be at loose ends until then, I'd like to do a little reconnaissance before it gets dark. So, exactly how far is it to that cemetery?”

  Chapter 9

  Simon rode Chief away from Nottinghill, following the clear mess of staggering tracks left by the undead in the scattered drifts of snow. Aeris floated beside him resignedly, having exhausted all of the reasons that he'd thought of to convince the wizard that this was a terrible idea.

  “Aeris, it's still broad daylight,” Simon told him as he rode. Chief was lifting his hooves lightly as he moved, frisky and still full of energy even after the trip from home. He was the only one of the three who seemed to be in a good mood.

  “Even I know that zombies, or whatever these things are, can't rise until it's dark. So relax.”

  “Relax? Are you joking? I could understand if you were scouting out the source of these monsters for any good reason, but you're just going there out of curiosity!”

  “Supposed source,” Simon told him. “None of the folks from town actually know that the undead are coming from there. Something about these attacks doesn't feel right and I want to find out what.”

  “Which part?” Aeris asked sarcastically. “The part where the dead are rising? Or the part where they are slaughtering the living?”

  Simon sighed and guided Chief around a clump of brush on the trail they were following.

  “I mean the fact that Nottinghill has been attacked for three nights running and, by all accounts, Clara and her people have destroyed dozens, possibly a hundred of these creatures.” He halted the horse abruptly and looked at Aeris. “I've been to that town. Back before the Burning, I dropped by there several times for supplies. They had a great country store. It had everything. And I remember the quaint little cemetery on the edge of town. It had maybe a dozen tombstones; no more than that. It was a tiny place.”

  He gave Aeris a significant look and chirped at Chief to get him moving again.

  The elemental hovered in place for a moment and then hurried to catch up with Simon.

  “Wait a minute,” he said when he was beside the wizard again. “So you're saying the undead couldn't come from that cemetery?”

  “That's exactly what I'm saying,” Simon said grimly. “So if they aren't coming from there, where exactly are they coming from?”

  Aeris became quiet and thoughtful and they continued the journey in silence.

  Although the trail to the town was blocked by the occasional dead-fall or high, crusty snowdrift, the path that the undead had forced through these obstacles had ironically made it easier for Simon to get to his destination. By about two in the afternoon, the remains of the small town came into view.

  The wizard remembered that the town had had a church with a lovely, delicate steeple soaring overhead. But now, as he looked across small mounds of snow and bare patches of brown, churned-up earth, all he saw was the shell of a building.

  The steeple had been smashed to the ground and lay alongside the gutted remains of the church. Fire had touched the quaint little building and blackened timbers leaned drunkenly in all directions, turning the church into a shapeless ruin.

  Simon directed Chief carefully through the town. The path of the undead was still leading him to his destination and they crossed through backyards, over broken roads and, most sadly, they made their way around the town's tiny war memorial.

  The wizard was reminded sharply of the melted slag that had been Ottawa's famous memorial. He had seen it when he had visited his home city and now here was another one.

  Simon stopped and dismounted. He dropped the reins and Chief stood quietly as the wizard walked a few steps to stand in front of the cenotaph.

  A bronze plaque, twisted and scarred, lay by a pile of rubble that must have been the marker that had listed the names of the several local soldiers who had died in one war or another. The writing on the bronze sheet was obscured by a scummy drift of snow and Simon squatted down and brushed it away slowly. Revealed beneath was only one legible word: 'Unconquered'.

  He stared at it blankly, his mind grasping for meaning. Slowly, Simon's mood changed from a hollow feeling of loss to one of kindled anger.

  Who did the simple people of this unnamed town ever hurt? All they had wanted to do was to live their lives, raise their kids, maybe find some happiness. Some, as commemorated by the cenotaph, had patriotically gone away to war, to fight and die for their home and country.

  He stood up and turned slowly, scanning the area, taking in the desolation. His vision blurred and he shook his head incomprehensibly. From the depths of his being, an cry boiled out of him.

  “Why?” he shouted in helpless rage.

  Aeris had been watching disinterestedly as Simon had poked through the ruin of the little memorial. At Simon's painful cry, he jerked upward and retreated a few feet. Then he stared gaping as the fragile-looking young man stood trembling in the middle of the ravaged town.

  “Simon?” the elemental ventured hesitantly. “Are you...okay?”

  The wizard wiped his eyes with an abrupt gesture, turned and mounted Chief again.

  “I'm fine,” he muttered. “Let's go while the daylight lasts.”

  He pulled the horse around and began walking along the churned path of the undead again, Aeris following behind. The elemental watched the wizard closely but remained silent.

  When they had reached the far end of the town, Simon pointed ahead.

  “There's the cemetery,” he told Aeris as they approached a storm fence that had been trampled and torn apart.

  “It looks like the monsters came from that place after all,” Aeris replied as his eyes followed the broken trail created by the undead.

  “Maybe,” the wizard said.

  When they reached the dismantled fence, Simon pulled up Chief and he and Aeris looked across the graveyard.

  It was indeed a small plot of ground. Dirty, faded tombstones lay toppled or tilted crazily in all directions. Simon totaled them up and looked at Aeris.

  “Fourteen,” he said as he waved at them. “That's all there are. Only fourteen.”

  Aeris darted ahead and followed the frozen footprints into the cemetery. And out the other side. He turned and waited while Simon and Chief crossed the small square of land.

  “You were correct,” the elemental said with a rueful smile. “The undead came through the cemetery, but they came from somewhere else.”

  “Yes, I can see that. The question is, where exactly is that?”

  “The path continues into the trees there. Who knows how far? We should head back to Nottinghill, Simon. I doubt if you will find any answers today.”

  Simon stared at Aeris long enough for the elemental to begin to squirm.

  “You seem awfully anxious for me to return to Clara and the others,” he said.

  “Of course I am,” Aeris said. He waved above them at the sky. “It's only an hour, maybe two until nightfall. Surely you don't want to be caught out here after dark? Not with hordes of undead roaming the countryside?”

  Simon was torn. He wanted, no, he needed to get some answers about the source of the undead
attacks. He had a strong feeling that something was going on; something more than random corpses rising from their graves.

  But Aeris was right. Getting attacked by those creatures alone in the wilderness, especially when he wasn't back to his full strength yet, was tantamount to suicide.

  With a resigned shake of his head, the wizard pulled Chief around and started back the way he'd come.

  “You win,” he told the elemental. “We'll head back. But I'm not done with this. I'm going to discover where those zombies are coming from, with or without your help.”

  Aeris looked relieved and took his place on Simon's right side.

  “With my help, actually,” he said.

  “What?”

  “My dear wizard, have you forgotten an air elemental's original function, back in the old days of magic? I am first and foremost a scout. If you'd like, at first light tomorrow, I'll endeavor to locate the source of these abominations. And then you can decide what to do about them.”

  Simon had to grin.

  “I thought you said this was a waste of time?”

  “No. What is a waste of time is you tramping through the woods looking for dead, crawly things. Your energies are best used to deal with these things once you have the proper information. And I will get that for you.”

  “Well, that's just...” Simon's voice trailed off and then he turned and focused on the trail ahead. “Thank you,” he said simply.

  “You are quite welcome, my dear wizard. After all, someone in this family has to be the sensible one, doesn't he? And it certainly won't be you or that earthen lunkhead.”

  Simon managed to return to Nottinghill before nightfall, barely. The guard at the front gate opened it just wide enough for Chief to squeeze through and then slammed it shut behind him, bolting it securely.

  “Is Clara still in the hall?” he asked.

  “I assume so, sir wizard,” the guard replied. It was the young woman, Lynn. She looked tense and kept glancing up at the darkening sky.

  “Thanks,” Simon said and urged Chief up the road at a trot.

  Once he'd reached the town hall and tied the horse outside, Simon slipped into the building, savoring the sudden rush of heat that enveloped him. Aeris floated in with him and looked across the large room to the central fire pit.

  Clara was pacing near the fire, hands behind her back, staring down at the floor as she walked. Standing on a bench nearby was a little craggy figure who was watching her with his arms folded. It was Kronk.

  Simon grinned as he saw his friend and hurried over.

  “So you made it in one piece, I see,” he said to the little guy as he approached. Kronk jumped a bit in surprise and then his face split into a large smile.

  “Master! You're back. I am so pleased. The lady cleric told me that you had gone to investigate the source of the undead. Against her wishes, I might add. That was very reckless.”

  The wizard greeted Clara with a wink. She smiled tightly in return but looked relieved to see him return unharmed.

  “I don't know about reckless,” Simon said as he sat down next to the elemental. He put his staff and saddlebags next to him. “But you're right. Clara was very...vigorous in her objections to my going. But as you both can see,” he looked from Kronk to the cleric, “I'm back safe and sound.”

  Clara stopped pacing.

  “And what did you find out?” she asked as she took a seat on a bench across from Simon.

  “That we wasted our time,” Aeris said tartly as he floated over to hover beside Kronk. The two elementals exchanged nods.

  “What?”

  “Aeris, you're wrong,” Simon told him. “We learned that the undead are not coming from the town to the west, Clara. Their tracks cut through the settlement, but come from somewhere beyond that.”

  The cleric leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.

  “Any idea where?”

  “Nope. My sweet-tongued friend here has offered to scout it out tomorrow, once the sun has risen, so maybe we'll find out.”

  Simon stood up and stretched, working the kinks out after his long ride. Clara watched him with some amusement.

  “Hard day in the saddle?”

  Simon chuckled and rubbed his backside.

  “You could say that. I haven't ridden that much in months. I'm going to be sore tomorrow.”

  “Well, I may be able to help with that,” she said. “But in the meantime, we've got about an hour before full dark and I've made some stew to warm you up.” She stood up. “Come on back and we'll eat while we have time.”

  “Stew sounds wonderful right about now,” the wizard said and, grabbing his gear, followed her to her quarters, the elementals trailing along behind them.

  As they ate the hearty venison stew, along with freshly baked bread and the inevitable tea, Clara explained the town's defenses.

  “We've got a routine now,” she told him. “Richard and the other guards try to sleep in the afternoon so that they'll be fresh overnight. We're down to less than forty souls now in Nottinghill, of which ten are willing to act as guards.”

  She offered Simon some bread and then buttered a slice for herself.

  “I wish we didn't need any troops at all, you know.”

  “I understand.” Simon chewed reflectively. “It seems like we're repeating the patterns of the old world, doesn't it? The need for police and then soldiers and then, well, who know?”

  “Exactly. But we need protection, so guardsmen we must have. At any rate, Richard and three of his people will man the front gate and four more will watch the smaller one in the back. The two daytime guards will get some sleep, but are ready to be called out if we need them.”

  Clara cleaned her plate with a slice of bread and then sipped some tea.

  “I'll be checking both gates regularly all night, in case my powers are needed,” she added.

  Simon sat back with a sigh.

  “Wonderful meal, Clara. Thank you.”

  She nodded and smiled appreciatively.

  “But how can you stay up all day and all night?” he asked. “You need sleep too, don't you?”

  “I slept today,” she said. “And I nap at night, Don't worry, Simon. The old gods have given me the strength to get through this.”

  Clara got up and started to clear the table, waving Simon back into his seat when he tried to help. When she was done, they sat companionably with their tea, each thinking their own thoughts.

  “What about your defenses, lady?” Aeris asked suddenly. He and Kronk were watching from the couch. “How are your guards driving the undead back?”

  “Driving them back?” Clara looked a little confused. “You can't drive them back, Aeris. They are relentless. They only stop if they are destroyed, or when the sun rises.”

  “So you use fire?” Simon asked grimly.

  “Yes, fire. All of the guards will be on the wall, each armed with arrows dipped in tar. They burn well. Torches in front of the gates are kept lit all night so they have light to shoot by. We have a line of hay bales soaked in oil just inside the gates if they somehow get through the fire arrows.” She scowled. “They hate fire, obviously. If they manage to get over the gates, lighting the bales will hold them back long enough for the guards to deal with them.”

  “Does that actually work?” Kronk spoke up in his rumbling voice.

  “It has so far,” Clara said. “They don't attack in a group, you know. One or two stagger out of the darkness to attack. They are fairly easy to manage.”

  Simon stared thoughtfully at the darkened window framed by pretty drapes covered in flowers.

  “So it's like they are each being raised in turn and sent off to attack you,” he mused. “That's interesting.”

  The cleric looked at him in surprise.

  “I hadn't thought of it like that. But you're right. It is as if someone or something starts the undead moving one by one.”

  She shivered suddenly and Simon raised an eyebrow.

  “It's not
hing,” Clara said with a tight smile. “It's just that you make it sound like we're being deliberately attacked. As if something out there in the darkness is consciously trying to destroy us.”

  “Perhaps something is,” he said soberly. “Those corpses are coming from somewhere, and it isn't from that town that Aeris and I checked out. Where are they coming from? And why? And why now? Maybe I'm overly suspicious, but my being attacked by those dragons and now the town being attacked by the undead seems a little too coincidental.”

  “You think they're related?”

  He shrugged.

  “Anything's possible in this crazy new world we live in.”

  Clara finished her tea and got up.

  “I hope you're wrong, Simon. I really do. The dead rising to attack is a nightmare, but it's somehow easier to accept than the thought of them being animated for the sole purpose of attacking Nottinghill.”

  “I agree,” he said. “But until we find the source of these things, we won't know for sure.”

  “Don't worry, my dear wizard,” Aeris said from the couch. “I'll locate the source for you. And then you'll have your answers.”

  “I hope so,” Clara told them. “But let's worry about all of that tomorrow. I've made up the bed in the room you stayed in before, Simon. You should get some sleep, my friend. You're barely staying awake as it is.”

  “Sleep?”

  Simon rose a bit unsteadily and squinted at her, his vision foggy with exhaustion.

  “I can't sleep while the town is being attacked!”

  Clara took his arm and led him to the guest bedroom. Inside, a candle burned by the bed, its flame flickering and making the shadows jump and move.

  “Of course you can,” she told him. “Look, if we need your help, I'll call you. There's no reason to overexert yourself after the long day you've had. Get your rest and, the gods willing, tomorrow we'll get some answers to this whole thing.”

  The bed does look comfortable, Simon thought. He gave in with a tired smile.