The Undead Hordes of Kan-Gul

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The Undead Hordes of Kan-Gul Page 30

by Jon F. Merz


  “We’re making conversation.” Kan-Gul leveled a finger at Ran. “Here’s what I think: I think your invisibility isn’t so much the idea that you are able to actually disappear as it is the subtle manipulation of physical boundaries of human awareness combined with an innate understanding of how the human brain works. Couple that with this discussion of ego and you have the perfect recipe for being able to vanish. And more importantly, make people think you can vanish. If their minds are already predisposed to the notion that you can, then when you employ your techniques, you are even more convincing.” He clapped his hands. “It’s rather ingenious, if I do say so myself.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Especially so, when dealing with warriors like our friend here—proud men who are convinced of their own imperviousness and skill. To be bested by a fighter like yourself, who refuses to limit himself to the parameters of some ancient code but rather utilizes anything necessary to get the mission accomplished—well, it would be rather insulting to them. So the very legends that you have created are perpetuated by your opponents as a means of explaining away their failure at being able to deal with you. Sheer brilliance!”

  Ran sighed. “Glad you approve.”

  Kan-Gul’s smile disappeared. “Can you imagine actual invisibility, though? Truly not being physically present? What would that be like.”

  “I didn’t know that ability exists,” said Ran.

  “Oh, it does,” said Kan-Gul. His body shimmered for a moment, and Ran frowned. He could see the landscape behind the sorcerer. He could see right through him. Then, in another blink, Kan-Gul’s body was back and solid.

  “I could teach you how to do it. Imagine that. You wouldn’t have to rely on psychology and physical limitations. You could actually become invisible. You could become the most accomplished Shinobujin of the ages. And all I’d ask is for your help from time to time in dealing with the variety of unpleasant things I am distracted by. Your rewards would be extraordinary. Anything you desired.”

  “Attempting to appeal to my ago after a lengthy discussion on the very ills of it probably isn’t the most compelling argument you could offer up,” said Ran. “You’re not dealing with a Murai, after all.”

  “Indeed,” said Kan-Gul. “But even those of us who are aware of the pitfalls sometimes need to take a break from constant vigilance. After all, what good is treasure and fame if you can’t enjoy them every once in a while.”

  “Perhaps I’m not motivated by those things.”

  Kan-Gul’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not, are you?” He paused. “So what does motivate you, Ran? Is it honor? A different form of honor than the yoke worn by your friend here. And what about friendship? Does that motivate you? Loyalty to comrades you’ve battled alongside. Is the Murai important to you?”

  “Challenge,” said Ran. “Challenge motivates me. When I was studying, all I could dream about was getting out into the real world and confronting the things I’d been training to fight against. The crucible of the everyday world is where I find all the motivation I’ll ever need. It’s through challenge that I expect to relish life to the fullest. Anything else—anything easy—wouldn’t be living.”

  Kan-Gul stayed quiet for a moment. “You are an interesting specimen, shadow warrior. When others quest for glory and treasure, you only care about how strife makes you a better person. Intriguing.”

  “So you can understand why your offer of employment does not exactly tempt me.” Ran eyed Kancho. The determination was still there, but he’d moved only a fraction of an inch farther on.

  “Indeed,” said Kan-Gul. “However, I still hold your friend and his daughter captive. Your decision will affect their fate. Are you comfortable knowing that turning me down will result in his death and her eternal suffering?”

  Ran sniffed. “I’ve only known him for a few days. As for the girl, she means nothing to me.”

  “Easier said than done,” said Kan-Gul. “And I don’t know that I believe you anyway.” The sorcerer waved his hand, and Kancho immediately sped up with his cut. A look of surprise and delight spilled over Kancho’s face. But it was short-lived. Even as he resumed normal speed, his downward cut ran into an invisible wall. Inches away from Kan-Gul’s face, the blade stayed where it was.

  Kan-Gul laughed and moved his face even closer to the edge of the sword, taunting Kancho. “Do it, Murai. Make the cut. Strike me down, and all of your pain will vanish. All the Chekhal will go back to the afterlife. Do it now. Use all of your strength, all of your will. Cut me down!”

  Ran watched the agony etched in Kancho’s face as he tried to do what Kan-Gul commanded. But the exertion was futile. He could not move the blade any farther. Sweat erupted from Kancho’s pores. His eyes winced, and he gritted his teeth.

  “Yes,” said Kan-Gul. “Do it. Kill me . . . ”

  Blood seeped out of Kancho’s pores now. His lungs heaved as he strained to finish the cut. And still he could move the blade no farther. Blood ran down his face, spilling into his tunic and staining it a dark maroon. His legs started to buckle. And yet he would not give up. He would not quit.

  Kan-Gul laughed. “You cannot kill me, Murai. I am beyond your ability. Your spirit is impressive, but no match for mine.” He sighed. “Alas, our time is finished.” He waved his hands and Kancho’s sword suddenly moved again, but the momentum was so great it arced through the air and stuck right into the ground.

  Kancho, surprised at being able to move again and unable to halt his momentum, stumbled forward and nearly impaled himself on the pommel of his sword. At the last moment, he avoided it by twisting and falling to the ground. He shifted and tried to stand back up. Reaching one hand toward his sword, he looked at Ran, and Ran saw only sadness. Resignation.

  Kan-Gul eyed the man on the ground before him. “You are exhausted, Murai. There’s nothing left to give. And you have nothing left to take.” The sorcerer pointed a single finger at Kancho’s chest, and Kancho seized up, clutching at his heart.

  Yuki rushed to her father’s side, crying as she tried to cradle his head in her arms. He reached one hand up and managed to stroke her face. Ran saw a single tear escape the side of his eye as he smiled at her. “Do not fear death.”

  Ran knelt next to him. Kancho’s eyes turned to his. “It was an honor . . . to fight alongside you . . . ” His head lolled to one side.

  Still.

  Ran placed his hand over Kancho’s face and closed his eyes. Then he stood and faced Kan-Gul. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “Didn’t I? What good was he to me? He would have tried to kill me if I had let him live. Better to slay your enemies than have them sneaking back into the cracks until a later date.”

  “He was a good man. And a brave warrior.”

  Kan-Gul nodded. “He was indeed brave. And I cannot fault him for wanting to rescue his daughter. In his stead, I would have done the same. But it still cost him his life in the end. Be thankful I at least granted him an afterlife. Even now my Chekhal are thoroughly displeased by that act.”

  Ran could feel the murmur of energy moving through the ranks of the Chekhal. Clearly they had been hoping to feast on Kancho’s soul. “Thank you for not doing that.”

  Kan-Gul held up his hand. “There is a trade-off for everything, so don’t be so quick to thank me. Kancho’s daughter will have to atone for her father’s sins.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “Meaning she has a lifetime of agony ahead of her.” Kan-Gul gestured to the Chekhal. “They desire her. Can you feel their energy even now? It builds and builds. They need relief, and she is just the vessel for that relief.”

  Movement out of the corner of his eye caught Ran’s attention. He turned and saw Yuki picking up her father’s sword. Ran held up his hand. “Yuki, don’t try to attack him. It won’t do any good.”

  Kan-Gul laughed. “She is truly the daughter of a Murai. I admire her spirit as well. But the night stalker is right. Put the sword down. You know you cannot strike me down
.”

  Yuki’s eyes looked like dull stones. But she didn’t try to attack Kan-Gul.

  Instead, Yuki turned the sword over and in one swift move threw herself forward onto the blade. Ran heard the sound of the folded steel punching through her abdomen and into her heart. Blood spewed everywhere as Yuki’s body slid farther down the blade. She gasped but once before going utterly still, falling into the trampled grass near her father’s corpse.

  For the first time, Kan-Gul looked shocked. “Why on earth would she do such a thing?”

  Ran frowned. “You said it yourself. She is the daughter of a Murai warrior. Better death before dishonor. Had she consented to your twisted demands, she would have brought shame upon her family name. This was the only escape for her.”

  Around them, the Chekhal shifted and moved and grumbled. They had been robbed of not one but two victims.

  Their displeasure was evident.

  “Your undead minions don’t look all that pleased with this most recent turn of events.”

  Kan-Gul shook his head. “No. They are not. I will have to come up with an alternative that will satisfy their cravings. In the meantime, I need to decide what I’m going to do with you. You’re not going to be stupid enough to try to attack me the way the Murai did, are you?”

  “No,” said a voice behind Ran. “But I will.”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Ran knew that voice.

  He turned and saw that Jysal stood behind him, her blue dress swirling about her in the wind that had suddenly kicked up. She was surrounded by tendrils of yellow gold energy that crackled and charged the air surrounding them on the cliff. Ran wanted to ask her a million questions, but now was not the time. Jysal’s eyes blazed, and even the tattoo that decorated one half of her face seemed to pulse with life.

  “How is it you’ve returned from the dead?” demanded Kan-Gul. “You could not have the power to do that. Especially one as inexperienced as you. Tell me how you accomplished it. Tell me!”

  Jysal laughed, and there was a strength in it that Ran had never heard reflected in her speech before. Gone was the naive and hesitant novice that he’d known the past several days. In her place stood someone very much in possession of power—a lot of power.

  “You are not in the position to demand anything, warlock.” Jysal surveyed the landscape. Her eyes lit upon Neviah’s body, and Ran saw a crinkle of sadness creep onto her face. She glanced at Ran. “How did she die?”

  “Malkyr,” said Ran. “Neviah tried to surprise Kan-Gul. While her back was turned, Malkyr killed her.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “Dead,” said Ran. “I killed him.”

  Jysal nodded. “My thanks to you. Neviah did not deserve such dishonor.”

  “She did not.” Ran bowed his head. “I wish I’d been able to save her.”

  “You couldn’t have saved her,” said Jysal. “We all fell victim to Malkyr’s treachery. I hope wherever he is now, he is suffering at the hands of Neviah’s spirit.”

  “As do I,” said Ran.

  Jysal turned her attention back to Kan-Gul. “You have tortured this land for many years. The time of your reckoning is at hand.”

  Kan-Gul smiled. “Then I welcome it.” He raised his hands and blue orbs danced about him. Each one raced up and down the line of Chekhal, looking as though they energized the undead horde. The Chekhal started forward, their weapons drawn and intent on killing ran and Jysal.

  “Stand by my side, Ran,” said Jysal.

  Ran needed no encouragement and moved to Jysal’s left. Instantly, Jysal unleashed a wave of yellow energy that rocketed into the ranks of Chekhal. As they were hit, the dull gray skin of the undead warriors seemed to vaporize, leaving behind a line of skeletons.

  Kan-Gul laughed. “It will take more than that to destroy my men.” He waved his hands, and the blue energy crackled around the skeletal warriors. Once again, they started moving forward.

  Jysal didn’t hesitate and unleashed a volley of golden orbs that smashed into the skeletal Chekhal, blasting several apart. “I’ll need help, Ran.”

  Ran launched himself at the closest Chekhal and cut from left to right with a brutal horizontal cut that severed the spinal cord of the skeleton. He used the momentum of the strike to bring his sword up and over his head, chopping down on another Chekhal, shattering through the collar bone and then into the rib cage and pelvis. The skeleton toppled apart and lay still on the ground.

  Around him, Jysal shot more golden energy bolts at Chekhal, blasting them apart with relative ease. On the other side of the cliff, Kan-Gul kept up a steady stream of reinforcements, but as as each new Chekhal entered the fray, Jysal’s magic reduced them to shambling skeletons as well. Then they were easy pickings for Ran as he smashed, cut, and kicked his way through their ranks.

  Without their lifeless flesh, the Chekhal seemed much slower, but their weapons were still just as deadly. Ran had to evade and avoid swipes with their curved swords and spiked spears. But he felt energized by Jysal’s reappearance and threw himself fully into the melee. Twice Kan-Gul shot bolts of crimson energy at him, but he managed to avoid them. If he and Jysal could manage to get through the Chekhal there would only be Kan-Gul left to deal with.

  Kan-Gul sent another wave of his undead horde at them, but there were fewer of the Chekhal now. Kan-Gul might have had thousands back at his castle—unless he was lying, thought Ran—but he seemed to be running out of them atop the cliff.

  “Keep the pressure on,” said Jysal quietly. Even amid all the chaos, Ran could hear her voice as if it were inside his head.

  He smashed through another Chekhal skeleton that tried to impale him with a thrust from a wicked-looking barbed spear. Ran chopped down, halving the spear shaft, and then flipped his blade and cut the head of the skeleton off. Bones littered the ground all around him, and he had to watch his step or risk turning his ankle as he fought through the mire of dead.

  Ran glanced at Kan-Gul and saw sweat flowing down the sorcerer’s face. It was the first time he’d seen Kan-Gul look concerned. The sorcerer kept throwing more spells into the air, but each one seemed to have no effect. He sent a barrage of brilliant red bolts at Jysal, but she was surrounded by a yellow aura that simply deflected the bolts and sent them careening back at Kan-Gul.

  “The girl! Kill the girl!” Kan-Gul directed a trio of Chekhal to avoid Ran and turn their attention to Jysal.

  Ran leapt in front of them, slashing side to side and driving the edge of his sword through bone and evil magic. Again and again he cut, swerved, cut, and evaded. Every fiber of his being felt like it was on fire, sizzling with an untapped energy that filled him with power despite his exhaustion. Ran had never felt this way during combat before and wondered if it was coming from Jysal or from somewhere even deeper within himself.

  At the moment, it didn’t matter. As more and more Chekhal fell to his strikes and fewer and fewer rushed into battle, Kan-Gul started slowly backing away. He still fired more and more deadly magic, but it had no effect. Even the bolts he shot at Ran were off-target and dissolved before they could harm him.

  The ground around them was a seething mess of blood, slime, bones, mud, and trampled grass. Ran felt his footing slip several times and had to go with it to adapt to the environment rather than fight against it and risk a lucky strike from the Chekhal.

  And then the Chekhal stopped coming.

  Jysal looked around the top of the cliff. She seemed entirely nonplussed and not the least bit tired. Ran squatted down amid the bones of the countless Chekhal skeletons he’d slain and let his lungs heave as they flushed oxygen into himself. His muscles burned, and sweat glistened everywhere on his skin. It was if lightning had struck him and the energy had coursed through him like a liquid fire.

  “Kan-Gul has left us, apparently,” said Jysal.

  Ran looked across the way. She was right. He was gone. Ran stood. “Where is he?”

  Jysal closed her eyes for a moment. “Running back down t
he trail toward the shore. His magic is depleted. He has nothing left to give.”

  “Then now is a good time for him to die,” said Ran. He rushed across the cliff and down the winding game trail. The wind still blew, swirling as if a fresh storm were coming to rest along the coastline. The air smelled cleaner, though, as if the impending rain would wipe the stench of Kan-Gul’s magic from this inhospitable land.

  Ran rounded another corner and then leapt into the air to avoid a root. As he came down, something slammed into his chest, knocking him to the ground. All of the air in his lungs rushed out of him.

  He threw himself to the side as he caught sight of the staff careening toward his head. The tip of the staff smashed into the dirt, spraying up dirt and gravel that flew into Ran’s face. He jumped up and brought his sword up, but it was instantly swiped away by a strike to the back of his hands.

  Kan-Gul stood before him, no longer dressed in the gowns he’d worn earlier but instead a simple pair of leggings and a threadbare half shirt of linen. Despite his obvious advanced age, Ran could see that Kan-Gul’s wiry frame nevertheless possessed strength. Thin cords of muscle ran along his arms, twisting around his bones.

  “You won’t find me the easy opponent she thought I would be,” said Kan-Gul. But the calm confident demeanor that had been a constant of his personality was no longer in place. And the beads of sweat told Ran that his opponent was much less a threat than he had been only minutes before.

  Kan-Gul flipped the six-foot staff around and around, making a circular pattern in the air that reminded Ran of some of the techniques he’d been taught from one of the shadow-warrior schools. He glanced around, but his sword was somewhere off the side of the trail amid the tall, dry grasses. He wouldn’t be able to find it. Not now, at least.

  Kan-Gul launched a series of downward and upward strikes that swept in from all sorts of angles. Ran moved counter to them, fitting his body into the spaces they created, trying to draw down the distance so he could get inside the weapon’s effective range. Twice he misjudged the distance and nearly got his head caved in for the trouble.

 

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