Unified Dead

by M B Reid

  There was no need to threaten her with the knife, she fell still. Her fighting spirit ebbed away along with her husbands life. Eventually, she lay there and cried. The Bearer held her like that for a long time, long after the husband was dead. Until her nose was running and she could barely breathe.

  He took the flask from his pocket, uncorked it, and moved it into position. In one swift movement he removed his hand and, before she could scream, forced the flask into her mouth.

  “Drink” He rasped. The word sounded alien to him. He hadn’t heard his voice in a very long time. Hadn’t used his voice in a very long time.

  “Drink” He repeated, shaking the flask gently. He could hear the water glugging from the flask into her open mouth. She didn’t even struggle, the fight had abandoned her. Eventually she swallowed, and the Bearer realised his flask was empty. He’d drank too much of it on the way here and she’d taken all the rest.

  He couldn’t share it with anyone else.

  He removed the flask, and clamped his hand over her mouth again. She struggled weakly, as if the water had sapped the last of her strength. Perhaps it had.

  When he was certain she wouldn’t fight back, the Bearer climbed away from the woman. He watched her closely as he stood, examining her in the torchlight. She appeared to be unconscious. Her eyes were closed, and her face was surprisingly serene. The Bearer made his way back to the hatch, and pulled it closed behind them. The woman hadn’t moved when he returned. He took that as a good sign. The Bearer stripped her husbands pants off of his corpse.

  They were the soft cotton things that rich people wore for sleeping - the Bearer knew of these things, though he couldn’t remember how. Using his dagger he cut them into strips. Some he used to hogtie the woman, securely anchoring her ankles to her wrists. Others he used to gag her, stuffing her mouth with soft cotton before binding it so tight she could scarcely breathe. She was still unconscious when he finished.

  “I shared the water.” He whispered to himself. He scratched his arm and coughed.

  Share the water. The voices whispered in his mind.

  He’d done what he was supposed to. He’d done it to the person he was supposed to. What more could the whisperers want? He’d done everything perfectly.

  Share. Share. Shared the water. Shared the water.

  The voices whispered. They sounded confused, as if they hadn’t realised he’d been so busy already.

  “Yes” He rasped, though he knew the voices couldn’t hear him. They never responded.

  Shared the water. Share the water.

  The Bearer stuck a fist into his mouth and screamed. He didn’t know what they wanted.

  He just didn’t know.

  Azoth rose with the sun the next morning. He finally had a goal to achieve, something to look forward to in his day. He was on the hunt.

  It took ten minutes for him to gather his gear and make his way toward the gate. The morning guards paid no attention to him as he stepped out into the open. There was a slender trail of smoke rising from the tents, a cooked breakfast to start their day Azoth supposed. His stomach rumbled with jealousy. He hadn’t bothered to eat this morning. The way the game mechanics worked meant that undead grew hungry much slower than regular human characters. It meant that Azoth never felt real, physical, hunger. Whenever he craved food it was all in his mind, and this morning his mind had been preoccupied.

  He knew where he was going to start. He had an old friend to visit, someone who lived beyond the walls. Someone who just might have caught some of the ratkin as they were fleeing from the tunnels. Not many had survived the fight in their underground lair, but those that had would have popped up in the wilds. If there were any still living as captives, Jerry would know about them.

  Logan was nowhere to be seen as Azoth walked path the stand of trees that hid the dungeon, and he didn't want the diversion of talking to Logan. Not today. His friend would undoubtedly rope him in to some other task to secure the dungeon, and Azoth would lose half the day before he knew it. He felt a twinge of guilt at that, for two reasons. Logan had good reason to want to hide and wait this out - it was a low risk strategy, and he had a family to get back to. The more selfish reason was that Azoth felt guilty. He hadn’t been to the blacksmith about those pins Logan had wanted, even though he’d promised to do it first thing today. He’d have to drop into the smithy when he got back to town this afternoon.

  Azoth turned away from the strange trees that marked the entrance to the dungeon, and focused on the winding road instead. It took a little over an hour for Azoth to follow it to the edge of the forest.

  Azoth stopped at the tree-line, waiting patiently. He was fairly certain he knew where the encampment was. He was even more certain that he was being watched, and he assumed that meant Jerry would appear at any moment. As the minutes dragged on Azoth grew impatient.

  A worrying thought struck him - maybe it wasn’t Jerry that was watching him. Azoth readjusted the shield on his left arm and rested his hand on the pommel of his scimitar. He struck what he thought was an intimidating pose, and then felt like an idiot. Maybe he was imagining that he was being watched. Perhaps there really was nobody around to see his ridiculous posturing.

  “Oh, look who it is!” A child’s voice sang from somewhere in the trees. Azoth studied the foliage, but couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

  “Hi Jerry”

  “Oh, oh, oh. He sounds confident, doesn’t he?” The voice chimed again, then burst into giggles. It reminded Azoth of a little boy being tickled.

  “I was hoping to see an old friend.”

  There was a blur of motion along the tree line as leaves rustled in the undergrowth.

  “Oh, an ‘old’ friend huh? What’s that supposed to mean? You saying I’m old?” The voice came from Azoth’s right.

  “Yeah, we ain’t old” A little girl said from his left. Azoth whirled around to look at her but couldn’t see anything but trees.

  “You’re a likable guy, huh Jerry?” Azoth asked. He took his hand off the pommel of his scimitar and lowered his shield. He was certain it was Jerry he was dealing with now. Jerry and someone new.

  “Oh, yes! There’s no one quite so likable as me.” The undergrowth rustled again, and a kobold stepped into the light. He stood about four feet tall, with grey scales covering his body. The kobold wore a fur and leather jerkin that fell to his knees, and a crown of daisies sat on his bald head. His wide eyes and oddly proportioned head gave him the appearance of a very small child. The dagger in each hand tried to convey that he was a serious threat.

  His friendly smile revealed rows of razor sharp teeth, like a shark.

  “It’s good to see you again” Azoth smiled back, meaning it.

  “It is, oh, it is. Come on through” Jerry gestured for Azoth to follow him, and started winding his way back through the underbrush.

  “Who’s your new friend?” Azoth asked as he followed.

  “Tina? She’s not a new friend per-se. She was part of me old tribe, she’s good folk” Jerry chattered away as he guided Azoth over a tripwire. The tree line was riddled with traps now. Like Logan, Jerry had been busy.

  “You and her -”

  “Noooope” The girls voice drawled, cutting off Azoth's question. She appeared beside him, as if popping into existence. She clearly shared Jerry’s aptitude for stealth. She was also dressed in a long fur-and-leather jerkin. Unlike Jerry she also had rough-hewn pants. A modest child-like lizard woman, you might say.

  “Then I’m pleased to meet you” Azoth laughed, extending his hand. Jerry glared back at them over his shoulder.

  “You’re a friend of Jerry’s?” She asked, shaking Azoth's hand.

  “I gave him that belt” Jerry announced, as if that explained everything. Tina nodded, perhaps in Kobold society it did. Azoth had the sudden worrying thought that Tina might expect a gift of friendship as well. His pockets were empty.

  “Well weren’t you just the gentleman” Tina rolled her eyes
at Jerry.

  “You’ve been busy” Azoth remarked as he ducked under another trap.

  “Forming a new tribe is no walk in the park. Not when those stinking Leaders were trying to escape” Jerry announced, guiding them into the opening where his campsite was built. It looked exactly the same as when Azoth had last been here, after he and Logan had killed off the kobold tribe that had built the camp. The tribe had been led by a ratkin, and that’s how they’d met Jerry. He’d helped them sneak into the camp after the battle - avoiding the limited traps the previous tribe had erected.

  “You saw a few Leaders then?” Azoth asked, using Jerry’s term for the Ratkin, as he helped himself to a seat by the embers of the main campfire.

  “Several came through here, oh yes. They thought their friend was still in charge. We taught them a thing or to, didn’t we Tina?” Jerry sat down with Azoth, while Tina made her way to the nearest tent.

  “Seen any lately?”

  “Oh no, they stopped trying to come through here after the first few.”

  “You didn’t happen to take any prisoners?”

  Jerry gave Azoth a long hard look before responding.

  “Now why would you want them?”

  “Just a little job, someone was willing to pay some coin if I could bring in some ratkin captives. I’ll split it with you, forty/sixty” Azoth offered. Jerry waved a hand as if the suggestion was idiotic.

  “Pah, I’d be wanting half, but it doesn’t matter anyway. Ain’t no captives here. Could offer you some pelts mind” Jerry said, tapping his foot on the ground. Azoth couldn’t tell if it was a nervous tick - did he have something to hide? - or an overabundance of energy. Jerry was a strange fellow.

  “Worth a shot. I could trade them for you, I’ll take twenty percent for doing the legwork” Azoth said, selling himself short. He liked Jerry.

  “Oh, now that’s a deal I could take. Let me see what I’ve got around here” Jerry hopped up and made for one of the two tents. Azoth knew from his last visit that it had been used to store meat in varying states of decay when the other tribe was in control. He didn’t have any interest in smelling that again. Instead, Azoth kicked back and admired the camp. It was tidy, and the traps scattered through the forest meant it was well defended. It was also big enough to support another couple of people, or perhaps half a dozen kobolds.

  Maybe he and Logan should use this as a summer house. Azoth smiled at his own stupid joke, he didn’t think it’d be easy to convince Logan to leave the dungeon. And if he could, he’d rather be in the city with nice walls and incompetent guards. It wasn’t anything like a fortress, but it had to be safer than doing things alone. Provided, of course, that the townsfolk never learnt what they really were.

  “Here we go. Twenty percent of the sales are yours, so don’t go short changing us.” Jerry laughed, dumping a pile of ratkin pelts on the ground next to Azoth. There were at least four ratkin worth.

  “I didn’t know you were so good at skinning things” Azoth said, scooping up the pelts and placing them in his backpack.

  “Oh, there’s lotsa things you don’t know about me.” Jerry said, with a decidedly menacing tone. Azoth didn’t pay any attention to it - he’d decided that Jerry was extremely strange, and occasionally threatening, but would never really hurt him. Probably.

  “Yeah, I guess so. Same goes for everyone. Hey, if a ratkin happens to come through in the next few days, do you think you could trap it? There's half the prize money in it for you.”

  “Oh oh oh, if one of those stinkers is stupid enough to come through here we can catch him for you. I wouldn’t hold your breath though.” Jerry took in a deep gulp of breath, puffing up his child-like cheeks to demonstrate his point.

  “Yeah, I didn’t think so. Hey, thanks for the pelts. Would one of you be able to guide me back out?” Tina had re-appeared from the larger of the two tents, looking a little embarrassed to have missed Azoth’s brief visit.

  “I will” Tina offered. Jerry looked between the two of them for a second then shrugged.

  “Go nuts” He said.

  Azoth followed quietly as the smaller of the kobolds led him back to the tree-line, winding through the myriad of traps. Azoth tried to memorise them at first, but gave up after the sixth trap. They were all well hidden, and every damned tree looked alike. There was no way he’d be able to get back here without a guide, which was all the more reason to stay on Jerry’s good side.

  “Thank you” Azoth said as she led him through the last of the trees. His guide curtsied sheepishly. She seemed to be blushing, though it was hard to tell on her scaly skin.

  “I, um, I got you these” She mumbled as she pulled a pair of boots seemingly from nowhere.

  “Oh, I’ve got - um - “ Azoth reviewed his inventory and came up empty.

  “It’s okay, just take them. Jerry told me all about you, you’ve given me my home. I couldn’t take anything else.” She forced the boots into Azoth’s hands.

  As soon as his fingers wrapped around them she scurried back into the trees, disappearing in seconds. Azoth felt like there must be a racial bonus or something going on there, he should have been able to see her for a lot longer. It was like she melted into the foliage itself.

  Shrugging, he inspected his new gear.

  Rangers Boots

  Level 4 Item

  Passive Buff: Increase running speed by 50%

  That certainly solved his footwear problems! Azoth sat down and swapped out his stiff slippers with the new boots. They fit like a glove and though they didn’t grant any increase to his stamina he was reasonably fit. Running fifty percent faster would quickly return him to town. He left his slippers behind as he stood up and started the return journey.

  He had some traders to talk to.

  Azoth returned to the strangers camp a little before lunch time. The Whiteridge guards at the river gate had doubled - half were at their usual posts, but a forward unit had been deployed onto the bridge. They stood with their spears pointed at the sky and sour expressions on their faces. None of them were recognisable to Azoth, and he was starting to hope none of them recognised him.

  Rather than crossing the bridge, Azoth stepped amongst the tents. A few hooded strangers were making lunch on the cook-fires, the smell of strong spices tickled Azoth's nose, making his stomach rumble.

  As he walked through the camp Azoth noted that every single stranger was cloaked and hooded, masking their identities as carefully as he and Logan hid theirs. It put him on edge, especially with the town guard making a show of force. That was undoubtedly Duncan’s stupid idea. It was truly unfortunate that such an incompetent buffoon had been left in charge of the town guard. Though, come to think of it, Azoth didn’t know of anyone who was particularly well suited to the job. He certainly wouldn’t want it.

  Azoth finally found the old man at the rear of the camp, as far from the river as possible. He seemed to be sorting firewood. The camp leader looked up as Azoth approached.

  “Ah, good to see you again. Have any luck?”

  “No captives, sorry. I talked to a friend living in the forest, he saw a few come through, but they didn’t survive the encounter.” Azoth replied.

  “A shame. I was very much hoping to talk to one. Perhaps I could ask you a few questions instead?”

  “Yeah, I can do that.” Azoth said, and his stomach rumbled again. The old man laughed, a deep full-bellied sound. It made him seem incredibly friendly.

  “Come, have lunch with me. We can talk while we eat.” He put down the wood he’d been holding and led Azoth to the nearest cooking fire. The cook tending it readied two bowls of stew as they approached, and handed them over mechanically. Azoth studied him for a moment, expecting the man to flinch. Instead he stood as still as a statue.

  “Here, sit.” The old man handed one bowl to Azoth and took a seat on a thick log that served as a seat. Azoth sat next to him.

  “So what did you want to know?” Azoth asked, waiting for the stranger to ta
ke the first bite. He wasn’t distrustful, he just didn’t want to seem rude. The stranger blew on a large spoonful before shovelling it into his mouth. His eyes crinkled into a smile as he savoured the taste.

  “I heard that you fought the ratkin.” He asked hesitantly.

  “Yeah, right until the end.”

  “Was it true they were doing some kind of magic?”

  “Yeah, but I have no idea what they were trying to do.” Azoth admitted.

  “Could you describe the ritual?”

  “I um, I dunno really. There were concentric circles of ratkin, all grouped around several that were standing back to back in the middle of the room. They were all chanting and waving their arms around, real high pitched noises you know?” The stranger was listening attentively as Azoth spoke.

  “Were they all participating?”

  “Most of them, yeah. There were a few at the back, like they didn’t fit into any of the circles. They fought us when we came into the room.” Azoth shoved a few spoonfuls of the stew into his mouth. It was impossibly good. Sweet and savoury coming together in a flavour explosion, easily the best meal he’d had since logging in.

  “And the ones in the middle, they were leading it?” Azoth got the impression the tall stranger had a good idea of what had been happening, probably even better than Azoth.

  “I think one of them was. The others were just, sort of, part of it?” Azoth racked his memories, trying to think of anything else that might help.

  “How did you stop the ritual?”

  “Oh, that wasn’t me. I mean, I kind of followed along. But Rudy led the charge on that one. He just cut his way through the circles to the middle.” Azoth paused, wondering how much he should tell the man. He savoured another spoonful of stew.

  “Do you think I could talk to Rudy?”

  “Na, he, um. He didn’t make it.” Azoth peered into his bowl of stew for a long moment before continuing.

  “He led us through the circles. Killed ratkin to carry on, right. After the first one or two, it was like we started to disrupt the ritual somehow. We couldn’t cut through the circles anymore. We had to kill more than one ratkin to get through, like there was a barrier. The ratkin wouldn’t chase us further in, and -” Azoth paused. Should he really be telling this complete stranger what they’d been up to. On the other hand, the old man seemed to know almost everything already.