“So let’s go over this,” I said. “Where are we going?”
“Pillar Mound to the west.”
The recent beast hunts had expanded the area available to people. New ruins were being discovered frequently by beast-hunting adventurers and others who ventured deep into the woods to gather wild vegetables and hunt. The place we were heading now to get rid of the undead was just such a place. Its discoverer had called it Pillar Mound, and it was apparently a small hill with lines of old, rotting, wood posts.
“The report of its discovery was made very recently, but a search still hasn’t been carried out. There are several reasons for that. How deep into the woods it’s located—” The wind blew. A gray-white mist began to descend around us. “The fact that this area gets very misty. It’s unclear whether that has something to do with the geography, an ancient magical barrier, or if it’s something playing tricks, maybe a fae or something that’s settled here.” The mist was growing thicker with every step we took. “And lastly, the fact that there was an unholy aura about the area. The hunter who made the discovery said that they saw ‘undead,’ but...”
The experience seemed to have shaken them up quite a bit, and they were only able to give vague information about the sighting—something like a bone-chilling presence and the sense that something was moving in the mist. They might simply have been seeing things. Or it might have been a beast or a golem of some sort that had wandered out of a ruin.
“We don’t know what might turn up,” I said. “It could be nothing. An atmosphere like this can make you see things that aren’t there. But let’s be careful.”
“Yes, sir!”
We walked through the mist in silence for a little while, searching for anything out of place. Suddenly, our field of vision opened up. From behind me, Al stifled a yelp of surprise.
“Oh, wow.” The sight took my breath away. Countless rows of wooden pillars were lined up on a hill shrouded in thick fog. They seemed to have once been covered in red paint, although it was half-peeled off by now.
“C-Creepy.”
“Yes. But magnificent.” I gazed through the gray-white fog at the forest of rotting red pillars with peeling paint. The rows became more indistinct the farther back I looked and appeared to sway in the fog in the distance. They looked like the horribly twisted, slender figures of blood-red giants standing silently in this place as the last vestiges of the activity that had certainly once existed here.
I signaled with a hand gesture, and we moved carefully forward, trodding on the wet soil. Menel and Reystov weren’t here this time. It wasn’t a big enough deal for all of us to go, and we had the Lord of Holly’s prophecy to think about, so I had them standing by in Torch Port. But I slightly regretted that decision. If anything, Menel was the one suited to this kind of search. As a half-elf, he had sharp senses and could also call fairies to his aid, so he was more suited than me to this kind of reconnaissance work. That said, we couldn’t help what we didn’t have. I would just have to deal.
While casting my eyes left and right, I slowly approached the hill. The first thing I did was to check the pillars. As I thought, they were made of wood. They had been sawn with precision, were all either octagonal or hexagonal in shape, and had been buried deep into the ground. I wondered if the red was part of the customs or culture of a now-lost tribe. Perhaps it carried some kind of religious message or prayer.
A warm gust of wind whooshed by, taking me by surprise. Al let out a short scream and turned pale.
I looked in the direction he was pointing.
Behind a pillar, something was there, looking at us.
◆
As I reflexively held Pale Moon at the ready, I looked at where Al was pointing. He was looking at something with a cracked face, brown skin that had started to rot, empty eye sockets, haphazard teeth...
It was—it looked exactly like—
“That’s not a zombie,” I said, smiling.
“Huh?”
“Come on, look more closely.” I took Al and walked closer. It was a figure carved from wood into the shape of a person. Horrifyingly black holes had been cut into the figure for eyes, and it bared rows of teeth made from the quills of bird feathers. The wood used was probably the same as the pillars.
“Maybe he’s a grave keeper?”
“G-Grave keeper?”
“Yeah.”
The fact that they had placed a frightening figure like this here probably meant that—
“This is probably a burial mound. A graveyard.”
I looked around at the lines of pillars. Each one of these was surely the tombstone of someone who had once lived here. Once I started thinking that way, I got the feeling that it explained this strange place neatly.
“The reason for the figure with the frightening face is probably to intimidate grave robbers.”
Some may think, “It’s only a figure, what’s the big deal?” but just like the Japanese dolls from my previous world, humanoid figures that feel as if someone’s intent lives within them are pretty scary. It would probably seem even scarier to people who came here with a guilty conscience intending to loot the graves. It might not be able to scare off all unscrupulous people, but if at least those who still had some doubts could be kept away with this, that alone would be useful. It was kind of like fake security cameras in my previous world.
“Actually, the mist might be a magical barrier too, or some kind of agreement with a local fae.” The people of the past had probably arranged this so that the ones they loved who had passed away before them could rest in peace. “I think this place was probably made over many generations and with a lot of effort and feeling.”
I gently laid down my spear and got to my knees. Then, I put my hands together and prayed.
We haven’t come here to disturb your burial place. Please rest in peace.
After praying for a while, I opened my eyes and saw that Al had been doing the same.
“Um... but then...”
“Hm?”
“But then where are the undead?”
“Now that we know this is a grave, I’m starting to think there’s a good chance they were just seeing things.”
“Huh? I’d have thought undead would be more likely to show up if it’s a grave...”
Al’s words confused me. I tilted my head. “Why? They’ve all been respectfully laid to rest.”
Graves generally contained corpses that had been given a memorial following a proper procedure. It was actually rare for graves to produce undead, despite the image they may conjure up.
“It’s when someone is killed and their body hidden or when a dead body is left out in the open that it becomes more likely for them to receive the protection of the god of undeath.” I paused, then added in a subdued voice, “He’s a kind god in his own way.”
“The god of undeath is... kind?”
“Yes. Really kind.” I shrugged.
Even though I had once fought him as an enemy, I had to admit it: the god of undeath, Stagnate, was kind. It was just that I and most likely the majority of everyone else couldn’t accept what that god viewed as kindness, and that was why we called him an evil god. But the way I saw it, that label did nothing to change the fact that he was kind.
“People suffer miserable, hopeless deaths that are too awful to watch. Stagnate, the god of undeath, can’t stand that. So just as the seasons and nature shift with the blessing of the god of the fae, the god of undeath grants all creatures who have met with death the right to overturn their tragedies by becoming undead and rising to their feet again.”
“Um—”
“Yes, I know what you’re going to say. That wouldn’t make most people happy. In fact, a blessing like that would be nothing but a nuisance.” I shrugged. “For the living, it would be a little bit unbearable to say the least if their dead parents rose rotten from the grave for a final embrace. And as for the dead, regrets of the moment just before death are usually burned into their heads. No real rati
onality is left; they just lose control. Only a very small subset of people can become rational undead. Only those with strong wills and souls.”
But even so—
“But even so, it’s a fact that what the god of undeath is giving is a blessing, not a curse. From the bottom of his heart, he’s trying to tell them that they don’t have to end their lives in frustration and encouraging them to overturn death with the radiance of their souls.”
“Um...” Al looked like he’d been badly wanting to say something. “Master Will, err, you know an awful lot about Stagnate. Could it be you’ve...”
Oops.
“Have you met an Echo of—no, what am I talking about. That couldn’t happen, not even to you. Have you met one of Stagnate’s Heralds or something?”
“...”
“Why are you looking away from me?!”
“N-No reason, I just, uh, I just... Hahaha...”
“Don’t laugh!”
“Hahaha...”
◆
With the odd moment like that to break things up, we walked around the hill for a while, but as I expected, we didn’t spot anything suspicious.
“Yeah, it feels likely they were just seeing things.”
“S-So it was all a false alarm...”
I laughed sympathetically. “Well, it’s like that sometimes.”
Al had come steeling himself for his first battle, and it had just been a false alarm. His shoulders sank and his expression showed a mix of disappointment and frustration. “Ah—b-but, the hunter said they sensed an unholy aura, didn’t they?!”
“An ‘aura’ is a pretty vague concept, after all. With an atmosphere like this place has, if you thought you saw something undead here, you might feel like you sensed an aura, don’t you think?”
“I guess so...”
That being said, he did have a point. That ‘aura’ was the one thing that was still bugging me. If the hunter really was seeing things, we just had to go back and say it was nothing. But it would be terrible if we reported that it was nothing and then there were casualties later. With these thoughts in my head, I went around the hill one more time.
“Hm?” Through the mist, behind bushes and undergrowth at the bottom of the hill, I got the feeling that I caught a glimpse of something. “Al, this way.” Making my way through the undergrowth, I moved towards it.
Hidden among bushes and undergrowth at the bottom of the hill was a dilapidated old door.
“Is that a way into the mound?”
It probably wasn’t very large, judging by the size of the hill. I regarded the door with suspicion. There was a chance that some magic or a trap had been set up as a measure against grave robbing, but I had to check. I mentally said some words of apology to the people buried here.
“Let’s check this out, too.”
“Right.”
I listened out carefully and cautiously placed a hand on the door. It had an extremely simple construction without even a lock, and even though many years must have passed, it still just about opened.
“Lumen.” I converged mana onto the Sign engraved in my favorite spear, Pale Moon, securing myself a magical source of illumination. “Okay. Good. And... Flammo Ignis.” I also used a Word to create fire and light the torch I’d brought with me. “Al, hold onto this.”
“Yes, sir. But why two different types of light?”
“If you were an intelligent undead who could see in the dark and you wanted to use darkness to ambush someone who couldn’t, how would you go about doing it?”
There was a long silence.
“I’m glad you understand.”
Magical light couldn’t be extinguished with water, and conversely, the Word of Negation that could erase a magical light wouldn’t erase a fire that physically existed. If we used two kinds of lights, it wasn’t very likely that we’d lose both of them at the exact same time. It was one of the fundamentals of exploring.
Once I’d prepared our light and performed a few additional equipment checks, we cautiously made our way through the wet soil passage, keeping alert for any signs of a cave-in. We soon reached the burial chamber at the innermost part of the mound. At that instant, my entire body was assailed by an abnormally dense unholy aura.
Al let out a frightened yelp. I froze completely and my hair stood on end.
No. No, something was wrong.
This was no normal, naturally occurring undead—
“Welcome to my temporary abode.”
A voice echoed from deep in the darkness. An icy chill ran down my spine. That thick aura, so strong it made you want to drop to your knees—I’d felt it before. Al was shaking violently, both of his hands still wrapped tightly around the handle of his battle axe.
“Has it really been two years, warrior of the flame?”
In the darkness at the back of the burial chamber, red eyes glowed. He was grinning. I could see it in his narrowed eyes.
Several wooden coffins were lined up in the burial chamber. The ceiling was shaped into a stable arch, and patterns reminiscent of flowing water were drawn on the walls in vivid red. The chamber went back a little way, but it couldn’t really have been called spacious.
“I can’t protect both of us.” I called out to Al as I took a step forward. “Run as fast as you can.” I steadied my breathing, focused on the circulation of mana—
“Oop. Easy there, warrior of the flame. You too, dwarf.”
I could feel his satisfied grin.
“If you’re intending to fight me, you can have the victory right now. I am not an Echo today, you see.”
Once he said it, I noticed. His presence wasn’t as concentrated as it had been back then, nor as overwhelming. The strength of it was incomparable to the average demon or beast but, conversely, that was the extent of it. It was not the aura of that unreasonably absolute being.
I pointed Pale Moon’s luminescent blade towards the back of the chamber. There was an altar where animal bones had been laid. They were probably a totem for ancestral spirits. Sitting atop the altar was a raven with glossy black feathers and red eyes that felt somehow sinister.
“A Herald.”
Heralds communicated the will of the gods and were a step down from the more powerful Echoes.
“Very perceptive.”
The sense that he was smiling got even stronger.
“Oh, and you can feel at ease. I haven’t laid a single hand on the dead in this burial chamber. Their souls have already returned to the great cycle, and a makeshift troop would stand no chance against you anyway.”
The raven’s eyes narrowed.
“Yes, thanks to the thrashing you gave me, I won’t be able to manifest an Echo in this land for a while, no matter what I do.”
Al seemed to have been stunned to silence.
For a while, huh? How long was “a while” in a god’s terms, that was the question. Was it a few years? A few decades?
“And so, as you can see, I sent out a Herald and—”
“Decided to go fishing?”
“Very perceptive once again. My word, you are as sharp as ever.”
I got the feeling that, for some reason, he was becoming more cheerful each time he spoke.
“Nasty, you are.”
“Oh, I’m sure fishing is always very nasty business for the fish. That is the nature of a god. We cannot be measured by human standards.”
The unholy aura the hunter had sensed here in Pillar Mound must have been the work of the raven before me who was the god of undeath’s Herald. He knew that if he dangled a hook into this region with an undead sighting attached to it, I would be highly likely to take the bait. If he didn’t catch me the first time, he could just change locations and try again. It was a very patient and godlike approach. Only...
“It doesn’t seem like you’re after revenge for last time.”
“Yes. Firstly, I owe you an apology.”
“What?”
“My previous Echo displayed disgraceful behavior in its
final moments. I feel deeply ashamed. There was no excuse for it.”
The raven sounded completely serious.
“An Echo is an attempt to project the power and mind of us gods into the nature of a person or fae. Some distortion is necessary. Newly born Echoes tend, to varying degrees, to be infantile, emotional, and rash. Of course, that doesn’t make it acceptable.”
My mouth hung open. I never thought I’d hear words of apology from a deity, from an actual, unmistakably real god.
Al’s mouth was flapping. This being’s aura alone was enough to make anyone feel certain that he was a Herald of the gods. It was no wonder that Al was so confused at the sight of him talking to me in such a friendly way.
”Oh, dwarf. This ‘warrior of the flame’ and I have crossed blades once before. Although I had been worn down quite a bit by his mentor by that point, I must say, he was a formidable foe. How long has it been since an Echo of mine was last destroyed by a pure human? Not to mention that he seems to have become stronger still since then. He may even stand on a par with the heroes of legend if he continues to—”
“Stagnate.” I stopped him, using a deliberately threatening tone. It didn’t seem as though he was going to actively fight me, but what was in front of my eyes was still a Herald of an evil god with dangerous ideas. I had no idea what he was planning. “I have no intention of being drawn into a conversation with you. What do you want?”
“How unfriendly. What’s wrong with indulging me with a little chat? Has our relationship turned so cold?”
“What kind of a relationship do you think we have?”
“Come now, don’t tell me you forgot that impassioned night we spent together? We both spent a little time on the receiving end.”
“I wasn’t aware that gods enjoyed jokes.”
The raven clicked his beak in representation of a laugh.
“And so, today I have come with a topic of interest for the big, strong warrior who caused me to die a little death.”
“Do I have permission to break your neck?”
“Gracious, no. What a horrifying thought.”
The Lord of the Rust Mountains Page 13