by Perrin Briar
Chapter Eighteen
Falcon and Quinn rode their horses through the busy market section of town. People moved to and fro conducting business. The town was a frenzy of activity, never stopping. Each time Falcon asked Quinn a question, it was in relation to how the town operated. No doubt she would take some of those ideas back to her own community with her.
She shook her head, a smile on her face.
“What is it?” Quinn said.
“This,” Falcon said. “It all seems so… normal. As if the end of the world had never really happened. I don’t know how you managed to achieve something like this.”
“A great deal of hard work,” Quinn said.
“And this mysterious secret you have that allows you to run the community the way you do,” Falcon said. “It must be some secret. I don’t mind telling you I’ve made enquiries into Arthur’s Port to try and ferret it out of the locals.”
“They know nothing about it,” Quinn said.
“That’s precisely what I discovered,” Falcon said. “No one knows a thing. I don’t believe any secret has been so well concealed as the one you have here.”
“The guards do a good job of keeping watch,” Quinn said.
“Keeping watch, yes,” Falcons aid. “Fighting the Undead, not so much. They might see the Undead sometimes, but they rarely attack. Do you know how many times I’ve seen the Undead behave that way back home? Never. Not once. When they see something alive, they attack. End of. Perhaps there’s something you’ve given the Undead in this area. Some kind of disease? Something that makes them not want to attack the locals? Or there’s a certain smell or something that keeps them at bay? Or maybe they were all formerly vegetarians and still don’t crave meat?”
Quinn shrugged.
“All good suggestions,” he said.
“But none of them correct,” Falcon said. “The Soulless take you. Well, I tried. I guess I’ll just have to wait and see what this big secret of yours is.”
“What did you say?” Quinn said. “Something about the Soulless?”
“The Soulless,” Falcon said. “Just children’s stories, to scare them into going to bed.”
“What are they?” Quinn said.
“Men, women, sometimes even children,” Falcon said. “Undead who can control other Undead. They’re not real, of course. But kids don’t know that. I suppose somebody somewhere decided it best not to tell the truth about the Undead to children until they were older. Like sex. Tell them about the birds and the bees instead. Besides, what kid needs to know about dead men and women eating other men and women? Even I don’t want to know. But that’s the world we live in.”
Soulless. There was zero chance the mountain community would take kindly to working shoulder to shoulder with one of them. Especially when they controlled the Undead, those beasts they enjoyed killing so much.
“Do you think your community can survive without having to kill Undead?” Quinn said. “It seems like fighting is a large part of your identity now.”
“I’m sure we can adapt to it,” Falcon said. “After all, when you don’t need to fight, you can expend your energy in other, more productive ways.”
“That’s exactly what I’m trying to achieve here,” Quinn said. “What I want for all communities.”
“It’s a good goal to have,” Falcon said. “And if we can all be even just half as successful as you are here, there’s no reason why we can’t survive for a very long time. That’s all we survivors are playing, really. A waiting game.”
“A waiting game where we will all eventually lose,” Quinn said. “One day, our number will get called.”
“Cheery thought,” Falcon said.
Chapter Nineteen
That night, Quinn put on a hooded cloak and took the secret exit out of his quarters. He hoped Siren wouldn’t follow him this time. It wasn’t that he minded she tagged along, but he would have preferred to have been by himself this time.
It was dark, but it was not yet very late. The market was in full swing, with customers and purveyors alike going about their business. Quinn purchased a cinnamon bun and picked at it while he wandered the many stalls, rubbing shoulders with the normal people of the town.
He couldn’t help but have a big smile on his face. It was nice to hear the regular worries and concerns of the normal man and woman on the street. He could, for the moment at least, block out the voices of the Undead in the back of his head.
This was what he was doing it for. This was what they were taking all those risks for. To make life as regular as it used to be. This was what life was. It was the relationships between people, and they could only exist when there was a certain level of safety. That was what his overlord plan meant. That was what was possible if they could only get over their issues with the Undead and come to terms with the possibilities.
During his various trips around town he had spotted a Thai street food stall, and it was this that he was heading toward when he cut through an alleyway. He had always loved Thai food. It was exotic, healthy, and delicious. He passed a narrow recess and was accosted by a man in black.
“Excuse me,” Quinn said.
The man did not respond in kind, and only turned toward him. Quinn caught sight of the flash of metal in the man’s hand a fraction of a second too late. The knife sliced him across his arm and sent him reeling back.
It was them. One of the assassins who had tried to kill him before. Only this time, he did not have the protection of the guards. Quinn carried his own knife, and pulled it free of its scabbard. He didn’t want to alert his attacker of his intentions, and so waited until the last moment before he struck out with his blow.
He was right to wait, and caught his attacker across one arm. He dropped his own knife but was quick to pull another from somewhere on his person. He moved fast, like lightning, and was slashing at Quinn again. With little weapons training, it was next to impossible for him to defend himself against such an onslaught. He hacked at the assassin in turn.
It was a wild, fierce fight. Quinn had the advantage that he didn’t feel pain. If he survived this, it would be a distinct disadvantage because he wouldn’t fully understand how hurt and injured he was.
Quinn stumbled back after a smack in the face from the assassin’s knife butt. His hood fell back, revealing his pale face. He had the appearance of an Undead. It gave the assassin pause for thought. He took a step back. It was just the moment of hesitancy Quinn needed. He wouldn’t use it to push his advantage in battle, and instead used it to escape. He turned and ran, heading back toward the bustling market. The people would help him. He just needed to reach them.
He could hear the assassin’s quiet footsteps behind him. They didn’t make a lot of noise, but were loud enough for Quinn to gauge how close or how far they were behind him. He was closing. Fast. The end of the alleyway was coming up fast too.
“Help!” Quinn shouted. “Help!”
If he could get the attention of just a few people who would come running to his aid, they could close the gap faster. The assassin might then turn and run away.
A silhouetted figure appeared at the end of the alley, then a second. They entered the alley and ran toward Quinn.
Help was at hand!
They reached Quinn, and took him in their arms.
“Assassin!” Quinn said. “He was trying to kill me!”
They turned to see nothing behind him. Then the footsteps he’d heard…?
They must have been his own, echoing back to him off the hard brick walls.
“Say, you’re looking mighty pale there, fella,” one of the guards said. “You sure you weren’t bit?”
“No,” Quinn said. “I was attacked by someone with a knife. Look.”
He pulled up his sleeve to show the cuts he’d received. There were more than he had thought. The blood they seeped was thick and congealed.
“Those look interesting,” one of the guards said. “Almost like they were self-inflected. Wouldn’t you say
, George?”
“Looks that way to me,” the guard called George said. “We’d best take him in for a medical check. Just in case. We don’t want him infecting the others.”
“No!” Quinn said. “You can’t!”
He struggled as they grabbed his arms and began leading him away. Quinn couldn’t believe this was happening. He’d asked for help, and instead was being put in jeopardy. Reveal he was infected, and they would kill him. The Undead army would fall upon Arthur’s Port and it would be destroyed.
“Arms down,” a voice behind them said.
The guards turned to see who had spoken with the authoritative voice. It was Hamilton. He was walking on crutches.
“Captain Hamilton?” George said.
He dropped Quinn’s arm and saluted. When the other guard did the same, Quinn slumped forward onto the ground.
“Want to tell me what you two thought you were doing?” Hamilton said.
“He said someone was attacking him,” George said.
“And you didn’t believe his story?” Hamilton said.
“There was no one attacking him, sir,” the other guard said. “And his wounds look like they were self-inflicted. Also, he has the appearance of one of the Undead. We thought he might have been bitten and could end up infecting the locals.”
“An awful lot to know considering you only just looked at him,” Hamilton said. “I’ll take it from here.”
“But sir—” George said.
“Are you deaf?” Hamilton said. “Or would you like me to place you on one of the scouting teams?”
The scouting teams were known to be some of the most dangerous places to work.
“No, sir,” the guards said.
“Then get out of here,” Hamilton said. “I’m sure you have much more pressing concerns to worry yourselves with.”
The guards saluted and marched away. Only once they were gone did Hamilton speak.
“Are you all right?” he said.
“I’m fine,” Quinn said. “Thank you.”
“You have to be more careful,” Hamilton said. “You mean a great deal to the community. If we were to lose you…”
He shook his head. Clearly, he knew who Quinn really was. The Controller of Arthur’s Port. Quinn had a million questions to ask.
How long had he known he was Undead? But he didn’t ask. Sometimes no answers were better than the truth.
Quinn returned to the keep and made a promise to himself never to leave the keep alone again. Ever.
Chapter Twenty
Quinn took a shower to refresh himself and his mind. Some people took naps, others did exercise. Quinn liked to take a shower to reset himself, and thought back over how close to death he had come. Clearly, Hamilton had immediately reported the incident to Siren, who burst into his quarters, arms folded, and tapped her foot in an obvious state of anger.
“Good evening,” Quinn said.
“You asshole,” Siren said.
“Remind me to teach you about the correct way to greet others with good manners,” Quinn said.
“You can’t go wandering off like that,” Siren said.
“I know,” Quinn said.
“If you knew, why did you go out?” Siren said. “Let me remind you: if we lose you, we lose everything. With no overlord to watch over Arthur’s Port, the Undead will storm through it. You have to think about more than just yourself.”
“I know that,” Quinn said, sounding very tired.
Siren took a few breaths to calm herself down.
“Then why did you do it?” she said.
“Because… I feel thin, like I’m being watered down,” Quinn said. “It sounds stupid when I say it like that.”
“No,” Siren said. “It doesn’t. Becoming Undead is something I don’t know anything about. I don’t understand it, and can’t even begin to imagine what it must be like.”
“It feels like the Darkness is taking over,” Quinn said. “I’m starting to feel its cold grip grasping me tight. I get so angry at everything all the time. Sometimes, I don’t care about anyone. That’s why I went outside. To see some life, the people, to remind myself of what we’re fighting for. To remember.”
“Remember what?” Siren said.
“My humanity,” Quinn said, his eyes shimmering now. “That is really what I feel like I’m losing right now. I can’t afford to lose touch with that part of myself. I just can’t. I need to be out amongst the people. The smells, the fragrances, the sounds… It reminds me why we’re doing this.”
“I can understand that,” Siren said. “But we won’t be able to do that if you’re dead.”
“I know,” Quinn said. “Something changed in me that day I was bitten. I can hear the Undead in the back of my mind, like old friends. Whispers in the mists of the distant past. They seem more real and alive than the people outside.”
“But they’re not alive,” Siren said. “They’re Undead.”
“I know that,” Quinn said. “But that doesn’t mean there’s some part of them still inside themselves, trapped. I can remember what they remember. I know what they know. Their memories… They survive. In the remnants of their brain, in their blood. Somehow. I’m not sure exactly how.”
Siren, unsteady on her feet, sat down. The Undead… were somehow still alive? The word alive might have been a bit of a stretch, considering their current situation, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a shard of their old selves still present.
“Do you know what would happen if one of the other leaders knew this?” Siren said. “It’ll destroy everything we’ve been working for.”
“I know,” Quinn said. “But it’s the truth.”
“But they’re still Undead, right?” Siren said. “You tried to bring Wyvern back to himself and he… well, he’s still not quite himself.”
“Maybe it can be done,” Quinn said. “But not by me.”
“This is heavy,” Sirens aid.
“Tell me about it,” Quinn said. “I’ve been living with this ever since I Turned. It never gets easier.”
But there was some hope. Perhaps one day the Undead could return to their conscious minds again. Another good reason not to kill them all. They might still curable.
Chapter Twenty-One
The Darkness. What had begun as a trifling, mildly annoying thing, had developed into something that had the potential to sweep over Quinn. Could Siren trust him? There might come a day when he would give in to the Darkness. She would never see him again.
The most terrifying thing was the idea that every overlord suffered from this Darkness. What if they got worse over time? What if all the overlords they sent to the various communities over the country eventually went mad and turned against their hosts?
She could understand Quinn’s desire of needing to live amongst normal people, that it would allow him to see and experience all the fruits of a normal community, to clutch onto his remaining humanity… But what if that didn’t happen? What if they were delivering humanity’s doom?
She didn’t sleep well that night.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Dexter, I have something very important I need to speak with you about,” Quinn said. “It’s about your training. I think you’re ready.”
“Ready for what?” Dexter said.
“To begin gathering your own Undead,” Quinn said.
“I thought I was already doing that,” Dexter said.
“I mean on a bigger scale,” Quinn said.
“Really?” Dexter said. “You think I’m ready for that?”
“You are,” Quinn said. “Really. I’m very proud of you, Dexter.”
Dexter couldn’t have been happier, grinning ear to ear. Quinn ensured not to touch the boy, even in congratulations. He was very touchy about such things. The moment called for it, but he wouldn’t make the boy feel uncomfortable. He wanted this moment to be bright in his mind, and to remain untarnished that way forever.
“You can do anything you put your mind to,” Q
uinn said. “You might have some difficulties sometimes with the sheer number you need to control, but there’s nothing you can’t learn to do so long as you put your mind to it.”
“I’ll be able to ask you questions, right?” Dexter said.
“You can send me messages anytime you like,” Quinn said.
“Messages?” Dexter said. “Why can’t I just ask you in person?”
The look on Dexter’s face was one of utter confusion. Hadn’t Quinn mentioned he would be going to another community before? He had certainly mentioned the communities, but perhaps Dexter had always assumed it would be this one.
“Because we won’t be in the same community,” Quinn said. “Not even the same state, most likely.”
“I don’t understand,” Dexter said.
“It’s not your fault,” Quinn said. “It’s mine. Clearly, I didn’t explain myself very well. You see, as an overlord, you’re going to be very, very useful to a community somewhere.”
“One of the communities you have outside Arthur’s Port?” Dexter said.
“That’s right,” Quinn said. “I don’t know which one yet, but hopefully one of them.”
Dexter didn’t say a word for what felt like a very long time.
“Is that a problem?” Quinn said.
“You want to send me away?” Dexter said. “You want me to go?”
“No,” Quinn said. “If I had my way, you would stay here with me. For always. But things aren’t as simple as that.”
He decided to be honest with him.
“I’m working on a project,” he said. “It means that people and overlords can work together, can begin to rebuild what we had before. It means things can go back to the way they were. More or less.”
“But I don’t want it to be like it was before,” Dexter said.
“It won’t be completely the same,” Quinn said. “We’ll be in charge, and we’ll be able to make any changes we want. Because we will be one of the most important people in the community.”