I had a habit that was a bit superstitious and based on something my mother told me many times. She said that if you kill a person, never let them see you leave. I didn’t know what it meant; she didn’t explain herself often, yet I took this phrase to heart. I would smash the face of any of my victims with my boot before departing, as long as I had the time. With Katrina outside, I was able to avert the codger’s eyes with my heel.
I was impressed when I walked out. I expected Kat to be crying or at least distraught, but instead she was drawing patterns in the dirt with the toe of her shoe. I found myself feeling the need to behave like my brother and give her a fake smile and feed her some reassuring drivel. Why she produced this desire in us, I do not know, but I fought it and refused to condescend to her so. Rather, I just nodded as I walked past her and over to Malcolm. She understood my gesture and followed me silently.
As we reached the gate, I saw my comrade was still laying belly up on the ground like a beached whale. “You can get up now. Surely you noticed there haven’t been any shots for a while now.”
Malcolm rolled around from side to side a couple times, finally getting enough momentum to pick himself up. “Well, sure I did, but that doesn’t mean it’s clear. It could have meant you were killed. So?”
“All the people you see here are the dead ones. The arrows were shot remotely by the guardian of this property, an old and now deceased man who was in that shed. Some group has enchanted the former villagers here to continually grow a flower and produce some type of liquid at the factory. Lucky for us, they use two enchanted horses to power it. Each of you shall ride one, and I can sprint alongside. The spell is presumed to last at least another month, so as long as we can get them to obey commands, we shall be shaving days off of our journey.”
I began walking over to the makeshift factory without awaiting any response. I would’ve hated to have to hear another petty complaint about the steeds being dead. Passing the field, I watched the corpses hard at work. The flowers the old man had referred to were like none I had ever seen. They were huge: each leaf surrounding them was about a foot in length. In the center was a giant bud, all of them brick red, verging on black. None of them were bloomed yet, and even if they had been, there was no hope of them being familiar to me. From our distance yards away, I could still make out their scent; it was sweet but musky, dark even. The workers had no reaction to us, which was to be expected but still felt terribly strange.
As we reached the giant wheel the horses were trudging along, Malcolm finally broke his silence. “You think Shemmy is behind any of this?”
I stuck my hand out in front of one of the horses and yelled, “Halt!” To my surprise, it really did, and thankfully still seemed responsive. “Well, the thought crossed my mind, but I really don’t see how she’d keep such a thing up. All we researched on her saw her completely isolated and always near Drummond.”
“Of course Shemmy wouldn’t do this! What are you thinking?” Katrina yelled to me, pulling on my sleeve. “She is our friend, and she is on our side. She wants to help the prince and she has!”
“Stupid girl, you just met her. This here has nothing to do with the prince. She is being paid for her services, and even though the payment is ridiculous and paltry, she is still a hired hand. She is not our friend, and she is only tentatively an ally.” Malcolm shook his head mockingly at her.
“That is absurd! You met her; she is genuine and kind. All of this stinks of evil and horror!” Katrina was really wishing to be far away from Malcolm, as she detested him more and more with each word he spoke. She was growing less fond of me by the minute as well.
I placed my hand on her shoulder and knelt to look her in the eye. “I have no reason for it, but I also trust Shemmy. I think it is because of how taken with her Billiam is, and there is no one I have ever trusted more than him. Regardless of the way I feel about her, she is the only person known to us to have such a strong grasp of enchanting. It seems as though these corpses have only their bodies animate, not their minds, and thus resemble the first man she resurrected. Perhaps she helped to get this started or taught her talents to those nobles. If she did, it was most likely out of curiosity and love for her craft. That is much the reason she joined us, as far as I can tell.” She finally returned my gaze and her fondness of me stopped dropping, or at least I hoped it had.
“Yes, that makes sense. There is no way she could be back to redo the spell. You mentioned a timeline for it, right? We will save any judgment for when we can speak to her,” Malcolm chimed in, most likely just to avoid any further outbursts from Kat.
I halted the second horse and unhitched them both from their wheel. I broke the front bow of it off easily and tossed it to the side with a crunching thud. “Are you ready, Katrina?”
She swallowed hard and tried to erase the look of disgust from her face with little success. Before she could answer me, a sudden absence of noise caught her attention. My second halting was apparently far more effective, for all the farm work ceased as well.
“Th-they are looking over this way, aren’t they?”
I turned to the field and found at least fifty pairs of open but lifeless eyes staring toward us. “As long as they just stand there, it’s of no matter,” I muttered.
I then hoisted her atop the right steed and helped Malcolm up onto the left. I was actually glad his horse was dead so I needn’t worry about the effect carrying his weight would have on a living creature. There were reins left around the horses’ necks, so I grabbed one with each hand. This would work out for me to travel between them, guiding the horses along, as I had no idea the range of the spell or how well the horses would walk on their own.
“Ya!” I shouted, slapping the horses’ rears. Unfortunately, my great luck had come to an end, for there was no response whatsoever.
“Perhaps we need a spell or to draw a hex?” Kat asked while doing her best to stare down at the horse and not at the immobile horde behind her.
“It responded to verbal commands before.”
“Well I don’t care how we get out of here; I just want to get the hell away. Either get these things walking or I’ll be, Leke,” Malcolm grunted. He was adjusting himself to dismount but part of the saddle had caught on to his trousers. “Won’t you bloody let go!” he screamed.
Upon hearing his plea, the horses started to trot at an agonizingly slow pace.
“Oh, of course,” Katrina giggled out. “Go!”
The second utterance of the magic word had the steeds at a steady pace but also started the shuffling of dead feet behind us. Instead of tending to their plants, they seemed to be joining us on our journey to the capital city.
“No not you guys!” she cried while waving frantically behind her.
I held the reins tight and readied myself to sprint before shouting out, “Go, go, go!”
While the horses were practically stampeding, I was merely jogging. I was wishing that extra “go” might give them unnatural speed, but I unfortunately did not get to enjoy that run I was prepping for. We were still moving far faster than any dead legs could move at least.
“I was really hoping to get off this damn thing, not save the day,” Malcolm mumbled while finally turning his head forward. He had had his neck turned nearly backward for about two miles. “We have lost them at least. When do you suppose they’ll give up?”
“If they simply keep walking forward, they’ll end up in Bain Lake by tomorrow. It should be all slush at this time of year, so they’ll be undead popsicles on their way out,” Katrina mused.
“We’ll be getting to City of Alafor days ahead of schedule. That’s all that matters,” I commented plainly. I suppose I should’ve cared more. Any carnage wreaked by them would be all my fault, but I was focused single-mindedly on my goal. That, and they seemed weak. I would not fear them simply because they were dead as my human companions did.
All in all, I felt my hunch paid off. Our journey was hastened substantially, and Katrina and Malcolm w
ere far too worried to chatter in the least.
Chapter 9
May 7-8th, 989
WHEN CONNOR DuBois was summoned to the castle, it was to be handled quite civilly; however, Connor and civility are not two things that usually coexist. He punched out the monk who spoke to him in his shop and ended up getting apprehended by the bevy of royal guards that had been there to chaperone. Despite it not going to plan, Aldrious’s wish was granted, and his eldest cousin was presented before him. I highly doubt there would have been any way for the cardinal to speak with him without his being arrested and held by force.
“Hello, cousin!” Aldrious shouted joyfully, clacking his long nails together as he approached the gigantic man and the two crown guards that held him.
“Da fuck, Aldy? Ya ain’t no cousin o’ mine no more. Yer Aegis’s little faggot now. That hogwash ain’t bound to me by blood, dammit!” Connor growled through his long, frizzy beard.
“Excuse me, Connor, but I am well aware half of your siblings are flaming homosexuals, the rest just raving loons, so what gives you the right to judge my blood? Anyhow, I might look nice, but you know the two of us have always held the same interests. Despite my vows, a pair of perky tits and a tight, wet cunt are the things I worship above all else.” Aldrious showed a brief grin to the mortified monks lining the wall beside him before waving them all off.
He heard no feet moving and thus turned again, this time with a stern glare. They were pale and terrified yet managed to blather out, “Yes, Your Eminence,” in unison. The half-dozen of them scooted out, shutting the doors and leaving the cousins and the two elite guards alone in the large dining room.
“Aye, so you be a heretical and horny slave o’ the church. Fuck if I care. I ain’t talkin’ to you ’bout jack shite, so go ahead and kill me now!”
“Dear Connor, stop being so defensive. I simply sent my brother to ask you for assistance. I need your help. I care not for your life.”
“Why the bloody hell should I help you?”
“Well I would pay you handsomely, but your family is wealthier than the rest of Drummond combined. I was hoping some terms could be reached regardless, perhaps involving the safety of your sister.”
“Shemmy? Ain’t ya done enough to her? If ya be threatenin’ her instead o’ me, yer a bigger pansy arse than I expected.”
“I am quite sure I said the word safety and nothing malicious whatsoever. If you can help me, we should be able to get her back here swiftly, and I will pardon her and lift her excommunication. Please, look at this. You will see her face but do note it says alive and unharmed,” Aldrious explained while holding a freshly inked scroll in front of his face. “I need mercenaries, bounty hunters, and I am sure you know plenty. Something much more precious than your sister was taken from me; however, the same people that took my lamb are also using Chammerline. They are the ones endangering her by dragging her into their fool crusade.”
Connor took turns scrutinizing the piece of parchment and sending Aldrious death stares. “You’d really let her come back?” he asked, his anger subsiding slightly.
Connor was a veritable mountain of a man. He was large, both broad and tall, and covered in orange hair and grease from head to toe. He was nicknamed the Yeti of Westend and definitely looked the part. Despite his imposing appearance and brash demeanor, he was quite sweet and held a mile-wide soft spot for his little sister.
“Of course. It’s not as if I wished to banish her in the first place. If I am to stay in rank with the brotherhood, I must at least look the part. You know witchcraft is actually a capital offense, do you not?”
“Oh, so’s now you paid her a kindness, is it?” Connor scoffed, blowing through his mustache enough that Aldrious could spy a full grin. “What do I do, just give this out to me mates or what? And I get me sis back?”
Aldrious peered around the room. It was still just his cousin, the two guards, and himself, yet his anxiety reached deep into his chest. He was not used to needing caution, or to having to care what others think or feel. He knew this was all our fault; however, he was beginning to accept his attack on us did not help his case at all. “Let him go and off with you,” he grunted to the guards.
Those crown guards were servants to the royal family and its representative alone. They had no attachment to parliament, the church, nor were they ever involved with the Logos. Aldrious had always implicitly trusted their neutrality, but he would take no more chances. He could sense the dogs of the government salivating at the sight of a knife in his back; it would only take the slightest twist for them to have their meal at last. The guards let go of the muscly arms and bowed to the cardinal before taking their leave. Connor was still bound, but it probably was not for long.
In fact, as soon as the doors were shut, Connor puffed out his chest. With a loud groan he moved his shoulders up and then out, breaking the chain that held the cuffs in half. He laughed menacingly to Aldrious who was just clapping, amused by the show.
“How much trouble you in, cousin?”
“Oh, I am your cousin after all? That’s a relief. I have a feeling I might be neck-deep in shit any minute now, but currently I’d say it’s only around my knees. How about a drink?” Aldrious called over, making his way to a cabinet near the table’s head. He grabbed a bottle of zinfandel from within and two glasses from the top of it.
“Now I understand why you had me brought here and not the throne room; however, ya know I don’t drink juice,” Connor grumbled. He walked to the cabinet and looked through it himself. In a back corner was a small crystal flask filled with a brown liquid. It was brandy. Not that he really cared what it was, it just needed to be stronger than wine. He knocked off the decorative topper, letting it fall to the ground. He then plopped himself down into the head seat before lifting his dirty boots up and onto to the five-hundred-year-old hand-carved table of kings.
“Okay, now I may wipe my ass all over this castle, but I would never do that. Feet off, and I’ll do my best to keep my mouth shut about any other impoliteness,” Aldrious implored him and must have appeared truly distressed, as Connor obeyed instantly. With that taken care of, he felt calm enough to continue. “You own a printing press, correct? You have your own shop where you mass produce pornographic images, is what I was told.”
“Ya, I gots my business. I fucking love it. You a customer, Cardinal?”
“No, not yet at least. I didn’t know about it until just yesterday. I’m quite excited to see your work, but for now I’d like to employ you in printing that mundane scroll I showed you.” Aldrious looked through his glass to Connor as he swirled it. It felt strange to be sitting anywhere but at the head. He hadn’t realized how accustomed he had become to being the Lord of Casperland. It made the nervous pain in his stomach cut deeper.
“You cannae use the press here?”
“My brothers are not the ones in charge of it. There are scholars from the old rule that still take care of that machine. It would not be wise for me to use them or to go booting them out, for that matter. That scroll implies the prince is missing, and should parliament get wind of it, my head will be as well.”
“Implies, does it? Seemed to me it said the prince was missing and implied he was deceased. Him and Shemmy be the only ones you want unhurt? So I can get the brutal fucks involved, I suppose.”
“I just need them back and soon. Whatever must be done is fine. You will do it?”
“Aye, but you will afta come get ’um from my shop tomorrow. I ain’t coming back here. You also gotta make a minimum fifty-note purchase, not counting the cost o’ these bounties. I’m supposin’ you need me to distribute some too? Ya prolly don’t get them holy hands dirty wif the underworld in yer position,” Connor replied, calm and concerned. Despite his gruffness, he was always fond of Aldrious when they were young. He couldn’t help seeing him as that little brat once again given how desperately worried he was.
“Sounds fair. I thank you, cousin. Have you a radio at your shop? I need to ma
ke a call to a lady friend; my previous chat got interrupted. It appears I can’t do anything alone here lately, except for speak with you, strangely enough.”
“I dun have one, cannae mooch off me for that,” Connor answered, disturbed by how his cousin’s face fell. “Control slips that fast, does it? Ya should’nae have gotten greedy. Ya shoulda just kept the brat unda yer thumb, not yer boot.”
Aldrious lost it completely upon hearing that and was bawling into his robe sleeve. “If only it could have been so simple,” he responded after a moment. “What time should I expect you to be done?”
Connor pushed out his chair and drank the last drips of brandy, standing up before answering, “Whenever I bloody well feel like. Ya best come over after nightfall. Dun want any o’ my regulars seeing your pious arse. Cover that blasted red up too, and for Aegis’s sake cut yer fingernails. That’s more than just faggy; it’s creepy.”
Aldrious’s mood improved immediately from the insult. He picked his head up to grin at Connor and held up his hand, prepping a thumbnail within it. “That is my own choice, not the church’s nor the brotherhood’s. These nails are intentionally unsettling, cousin,” he informed him coyly, while digging a long gash through his palm. The blood did not spill; instead it formed into a three-inch arrowhead hanging out of the cut. He dropped his hand suddenly, prompting the small blade to fly out and crash through the empty brandy bottle before landing at Connor’s feet.
Connor was quite startled by this; however, he did not show it. He just coughed loudly and reached for the door handle. He decided to ignore the show of power and called out, “Can I see my own way out, or am I gonna get chained up again?”
Defiant Revival Page 14
