Defiant Revival

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  “Right, I suppose you don’t deserve that, even if you should’ve listened to me and waited for City of Alafor,” Billiam teased as he ruffled the prince’s hair and pulled him close for an embrace.

  “You should have listened to yourself!” he rebutted, but was happily hugging him back. Any difficulty between the two of them seemed entirely squashed, unlike the situation with Shemmy.

  “All right, if you introduce me to your sister, I shan’t try her for treason,” Micah commanded with a small grin.

  “Dis is my baby sister Annalise. She’s been followin’ us I guess, takin’ care of bounty hunters. She will be headin’ home now, though, as long as Yer ’Ighness dun object.”

  “Woah…. Why are you acting so polite and sheepish? Did you do something really bad, sis? You only act like this when you feel real guilty, like when ya accidentally burnt down that orphanage,” Annalise questioned her sister, not acknowledging the prince whatsoever.

  Shemmy kicked her hard in the knees, forcing her to bow slightly. “That does’nae matter. Show some bleedin’ respect for fuck’s sake. This be your king, well, soon to be, and he is showin’ ya an undeserved kindness.”

  Annalise looked bewildered as she scratched her head and studied the completely foreign face her sister was making. She shrugged it off and kneeled in front of the prince, truly looking him over for the first time. She had been ridiculously brazen, threatening a person she was quite sure to be the heir to the throne with a pistol like that. The way he looked, though, so sweet and young, it was impossible for her to take him seriously. The DuBois never held much loyalty to the crown, as they had their own inherent power, so she was not accustomed to showing respect.

  She looked into his eyes briefly, thinking, He is stupid pretty for a boy, like they say, before lowering her gaze politely. “Your Majesty, please forgive me,” she whispered to the royal kneecaps in front of her.

  “Forgiveness is not something you ask from the crown; it is something you are either granted or are not. You are lucky he is the most loving and kind king we shall ever have, as there is no doubt you’ve already received it,” Billiam informed her coldly and grabbed her arm, pulling her back up to her feet. “Thank you for protecting His Majesty, but I will take it from here. You are going back to Drummond?”

  “Aye,” Annalise muttered. She was surprised to see this man smiling at her. She thought he was something fearsome with the way he spoke and how upset her sister was over him. She thought he looked pleasant, and grinned to him while conceding further Shemmy must have truly done something terrible. “You want I should do something for the prince when I get there? I have no loyalty to the church or Aldrious. I only took the bounty to help my sister.”

  “Do you live in Westend?”

  “Nah, I have a loft with my lady friend in Southside, though she prolly kicked me out by now. She does’nae appreciate the mercenary business much. So yeah, guess I’m goin’ back home to Westend.”

  “Perfect. I’d simply like for you to run your mouth,” Billiam replied with a wicked laugh before walking over to inspect the horses.

  “What does that mean?” Micah asked. He ran up to Annalise and hugged her tight, smashing his face against hers and feeling the soft fur from her hood on his other cheek.

  “How are you so warm out here?” she whispered, hugging him back. She could not believe this was the future king, clinging on to her so affectionately. She also could not believe that she did not mind or that holding a young man was making her heart feel so full and happy.

  “I want you to get people angry. Bad-mouth the church and the cardinal, tell them he is evil…. Actually, why don’t you tell them he killed the prince? Make the people doubt His Majesty is what the church says he is so they begin to crave him. Take it slowly, of course; we don’t want a revolution. It will be easier for us to succeed if Drummond is already in disarray. I think that is about all you can do,” Billiam explained while stuffing Micah’s pink dress inside a saddlebag. He determined he would alter that one later; the first two he had reworked before the prince woke up. It would be unnecessary, and frankly ill-advised, for the prince to cross-dress in Alafor.

  “I get it, yeah. Us DuBois can cause a lotta stink, dun worry. I am sorry for the rudeness, Your Maj—”

  “No, no! Call me Micah. We are friends now!” Micah cheered, punching Shemmy in the gut with those words. He did not mind her addressing him informally anymore; was she not his friend?

  Shemmy grabbed her sister off Micah, feeling overwhelmingly jealous. “Fine, enough, you should get going,” she grunted, pushing her sister a few feet away. “Hey, why the fock was Aldrious at Connor’s place anyhow?”

  Annalise brushed herself off, bowing slightly to Micah. She could not put her finger on the dynamics going on in this group, so she was eager to leave herself. She understood her sister’s devotion, though; the prince was extremely adept at endearing people to him without even really trying. Slipping her gloves out of her pockets and back onto her hands, she answered coyly, “You don’t know, then?”

  “Know what? That bastard brutalized Micah, tortured him, and took his land. He is an evil, twisted creep, and I’m gonna destroy him. That’s all I know.”

  Annalise shook her head and giggled softly. She supposed she wouldn’t have recognized him either if Connor hadn’t told her. She decided it best not to bring up the truth, as Shemmy was messed up enough already it seemed.

  “Aye, I guess they was mates when Connor lived in Enox for a bit, with Ma’s family. Does’nae matter, he only entertained him because he mentioned you. It all seems kinda strange, though. From what brother told me, it seemed the cardinal was genuinely concerned about ya, Micah. It was probably an act, but I feel I must ask: you do want to stay out here, right? You don’t want me to tell him anything?”

  “I will be back in Drummond in no time, with my one and only love over there, who you embarrassed so awfully earlier. He is the only one whose concern I need. I’d ask you to tell the cardinal to eat shit, but I wouldn’t want you to get punished. Despite how he may have acted, Aldrious really did kill me. However, unlike what Billiam suggested, I do not think you should mention that. It is uncertain whether my nation would want a former corpse on the throne. Do make them angry, and let them doubt my existence in the palace. That part sounds quite brilliant.” Micah grinned over to Billiam while he chatted with her. He didn’t seem as taken with her as Shemmy thought; he really was just trying to make her envious.

  As much as Micah appreciated her intentions, the mention of Aldrious made him want Annalise out of his sight. “You can go now. I have unsightly business to take care of before we head out. I wouldn’t want to sully your impression of me any further.”

  Micah was snickering as he turned away from her, skipping happily over to Zan. Annalise was curious about my messed-up brother, about what her sister had done, and she had a feeling if she stayed she would soon find out.

  Shemmy did not allow her curiosity to win out. She spun her sister around roughly and pushed her into the thicker frozen trees to the south.

  “What is he gonna do?” she whispered over her shoulder.

  “More o’ the same, love,” Shemmy answered, leaving a small kiss on Annalise’s cheek before turning back around.

  Not wanting to chance looking back, Annalise spoke behind her, “Are you sure you are okay? Micah is sweet an’ all, but if he can do stuff like that… and his man dun seem to like you none. I dun wanna see ya gettin’ yerself killed cos you dinnae know when to stop.”

  Before Shemmy could answer, they heard a bloodcurdling scream echoing from my brother. She had not heard him make any such sounds of pain yet. It was extremely honest and also terrifying.

  “Like you said, sis, I am feelin’ guilty. I know what to do, though, and that’s redeem myself. I fink I can this time, least wif Micah. That faelock, he fucked up way worse than me, not ta worry. The prince, he is very sweet….” She trailed off, followed by the sound of crunching sn
ow letting her sister know she’d be alone soon.

  “You did well, Shemmy, I am proud. He is lovely and perfect, a rousing success!” Annalise cheered but ran immediately after. Despite the successful resurrection and the beautiful face that treated her so warmly, she felt nothing but unsettled by her sister’s travel companions.

  She knew there was no one chasing her, nothing to fear, yet Annalise could not stop running. Really, she was sprinting at top speed, and she could not make herself slow for at least two miles. She was descending one of the small peaks of the Alstair range, so the decline helped; however, it was pure adrenaline that propelled her so quickly.

  The sun was quite bright for the region that day, making the snow become slush as she got farther south. A large puddle is what slowed her retreat; she slid through it and fell face-first into a large pine.

  She was unsure if it knocked the wind from her or if she was simply gassed out from running so quickly in the frigid cold. She fell onto her back in the mushy frost, trying and failing to inhale for a horrifying minute. As she lay on the ground, she looked up. The sky appeared to be framed completely by the insanely tall, spindly trees all around her.

  The skeletal branches were forming a crown around the sun, making her think again of the prince. She stared upon him, and she felt herself love him instantly, not a natural thing for her, and it was actually quite wondrous. Why, then, was she so scared of him?

  She was pondering hard on this as she closed her eyes, taking in deep breaths at last. I hugged you, and I even wanted to stay with you… I care nothing for the crown, for this war, hell even for boys…. Why did you make me feel like that, Prince of Casperland? Did my sister make you like that, or is that your nature? You felt so kind but so powerful…. Will we be okay in your hands?

  She shook her head before forcing herself up, clutching her knees to her chest. This wasn’t like her; she was not the introspective sort at all. She was a woman of action, and she needed to keep moving. The intentions of others, the fate of her land, there was never a passing thought she gave to such matters, and it was pointless to start now. Shemmy was alive and well, she had done her duty, and now she could go home. She felt a smile grow on her cheeks as she jumped up, walking at a leisurely pace this time.

  Shemmy should’ve easily reunited with her companions in the time that it took her sister to get her wits together. Regrettably, it was my own actions that were making this difficult for her.

  That scream she and Annalise heard was not from torture. The growing madness Billiam saw in his lover was apparently abating, and Micah had no taste for violence. He was still toying with Zan and engaging in conversation over how many lies or deceitful actions he had partaken in so far that morning. It was in the midst of this that Billiam spotted the former residents of Pottleton barreling toward them and screamed bloody murder.

  He gained his wits quickly and untied Zan.

  Zan in turn grabbed Micah, caring little what consequence that would have and set him within Billiam’s arms. “Go, just run. Get him to the capital, that’s all that matters,” he commanded, doing well to avoid looking at Billiam’s face and thus hiding the heartbreak in his eyes.

  He turned instead to watch the running mess of undead peasants. There were at least thirty of them left, none of them popsicles, but all covered in snow. They were still merely sprinting forward, but when they bumped into a tree, they corrected their path and kept moving. At the pace they jogged they were less than a minute from being on top of him.

  “No, Shemmy is still out there. I will not leave her. We fight together.” Billiam set Micah behind him, then grabbed out his dagger. He may have been angry at her betrayal, but he had not at all stopped loving his friend.

  “Are you sure they even want to fight? What the hell is happening?” Micah cried as he clutched fearfully to Billiam’s shirt. He uttered no further contest, however, and agreed heartily they ought to stay together.

  Shemmy was thinking near the same thing as she watched the horde running right in front of her. There were so many she couldn’t even see through them to her companions but felt entirely sure they were close ahead.

  “Aye, mate, what’s the rush?” she called at the decaying man nearest her. His arm was barely attached, and his flesh had turned black as coal from frostbite. Still, Shemmy had actually seen worse in a living bloke, so she figured it was worth a shot.

  She got no response. A lady trailed behind him, so Shemmy stuck her bare foot out. The dead woman tripped, fell to her knees hard, then got right back up as if nothing happened.

  Shemmy concluded they were mindless and harmless, much as I had, and simply joined ranks. She ran with them, pushed them a bit, and enjoyed the company. She was positive she had reached her living friends when one of the dead ones’ heads got sliced right off.

  “Shemmy! There you are!” Billiam screamed while pulling her into his arms. “What in Spirit’s name is going on?”

  “Dunno. They just running!” she chirped and hugged him back.

  “No, no they aren’t,” Zan stammered out.

  Shemmy lifted her head from Billiam’s shirt to look over. My brother had Micah set on his towering shoulder. Looking lower, right at his feet, knelt one of the dead folk. Behind him sat another, its face at the back of Zan’s knees but staring up to Micah. At every side of Zan there was another dead man or woman kneeling beside him but gazing up at the prince.

  As soon as they got within proximity, each dead farmer that reached them did the same. The four of them stood there silent as the circle of animate corpses around them grew larger. They were packed tight, now nearly squishing Shemmy and Billiam into Zan.

  “Did ya say sumfin’, Micah?” Shemmy asked up while getting bumped closer. “This looks like the work of necromancers to me. Them folks be lazy. They use words and spoken spells and such, nothing fancy like weavin’ energy or the like.”

  “No, I don’t think so,” Micah whispered down. He was doing his best to not make contact with the empty open eyes staring up at him. Each time he did he felt deeply cold, in spite of his warming enchantment.

  “You called one disgusting and screamed for it to go away. That’s when I picked you up, but they were already kneeling around you by that point,” Zan corrected.

  “Yes, well they didn’t bloody listen to me, now did they?”

  “Should we just cut through them and forge on ahead?” Billiam asked. He readied his dagger at the rotting corpse that was uncomfortably close to his right side and making him feel ill.

  “They’ll keep on following. The one ya decapitated is right behind me. Dunno if the Queens of Alafor will be keen on all these stinky visitors in their capital,” Shemmy rebutted.

  “We have to do something! I am not sitting on this monster’s shoulder in the woods all day!” Micah shouted down. He cared little about Zan at the moment, but he was an easy target. What truly bothered him was that tugging feeling he kept feeling in the pit of his stomach each time a lifeless eye met his. He couldn’t place it, besides a feeling akin to the heartache he felt when he was separated from Billiam.

  “We gotta stop the spell. Just keep talkin’, some command hasta clear ’um off.”

  Billiam looked all around him. There were at least five rows of kneeling corpses circling them. Beyond them and around them were equally lifeless trees, being tossed about roughly by a growing wind. Forces both unnatural and natural were conspiring against them, for a blizzard was due any minute.

  “Stand up!” he shouted. Nothing happened, so he nudged his shoe into Shemmy’s foot gently.

  “My turn? Bugger off!”

  They were only hours separated from us. The promise of revolution that I saw in Prince Micah was so very close. Once he was here, true change could finally start. Unfortunately it seemed that geographical distance was the least of our worries. The fate of our future rested on breaking a spell cast by an unknown enemy, braving the planet’s vicious elements, and above all, on the extensiveness of my collea
gues’ collective vocabulary.

  “Go away! Stand yourselves up!” Zan yelled confidently.

  “All of that was already said, you ninny!” Micah chided.

  In all likelihood, Casperland was doomed.

  Appendix I

  The Birth of MortiAegism

  ACCORDING TO the MortiAegis faith, Corseca was originally a lifeless planet with no land on its surface, covered only with a massive ocean. The genesis of life on the planet began when the very Spirit of Existence crashed through its surface, shielded by the God Aegis. Held inside the shield of God, the Spirit fell to the core of the planet. The gorge formed by their descent was never filled; instead it created a star-shaped canyon, known as the Startspring, where the oceans continually spilled.

  Trapped inside its shield, the Spirit could create no life, and it lay dormant hundreds of meters underground. Aegis knew the Spirit would dwindle if it were to remain trapped within him. He knew also how desperately it wanted to share its spark of life, so he sacrificed his stone body and stabbed out five large holes within himself. The Spirit extended its fingers through the wounds and up to the surface. Taking the pieces of Aegis up with it, the Spirit placed them around the Startspring, creating five small islands.

  The Spirit of Existence used the five islands to create all the different forms of life it could imagine. Firstly, on the northern island, it began creating the sun, moon, and celestial bodies, growing them slowly until they were large enough to fly into space. On the southern island it created natural elements, growing clouds and blowing winds. On that island sands formed all around, fires burned, and rain poured from the new clouds. These creations spread across the planet, the sands building the continents that make up the world today; the fires and winds contorted the shapes of the land, building mountains and carving canyons; the rains filled in bodies of water. On the western island, the Spirit created vegetation. It grew all the grasses, the plants, the trees, the flowers, algae, sea plants, and fungi.

 

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