by William Cali
“Look out!” he shouted to the bewildered villager, who was staring at his sword like it was defective. Yozer had stopped his chanting. He pointed one of his fingers into the air, and it glowed with a light brighter than the sun. Pent had to shield his eyes from the brilliance. Yozer touched this finger to the villager’s forehead.
The man screamed in agony as his body began to tremble. He fell to the ground, and Pent watched, horrified, as the man’s body shriveled up. All of the moisture vanished from inside of him, making him look like an Egyptian mummy. He stopped screaming and slumped over. Yozer drove his foot through the man’s brittle skull for good measure.
Pent ran then. He ran to help his friends in the graveyard as that was where most of the fighting was taking place. He ran because he knew he had a better chance of stopping Yozer with assistance. But he mostly ran because he was afraid. Because the horror before him wielded unspeakable, perhaps unstoppable, power. Defeating a conventional army was doable. It was something that he could visualize and see. But this pale freak could shoot lightning, deflect arrows, and kill with a touch. What hope did they have to beat something like that?
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The fighting at the graveyard was one-sided and nearly over before Pent arrived. To Gilbrand’s men’s credit, despite fearing for their lives, they fought to the last man. Pent wondered if it was bravado on their part, a sense of loyalty to their lord, or perhaps a fear of punishment from the sorcerer. The victory soothed the fear that threatened to overwhelm him.
Gilbrand’s forces dwindled down to four. A stab through the heart brought it to three. One of the late Lemen’s cocktails turned three to two.
Pent crossed swords with one of the last. The soldier was an accomplished fighter, and on a better day Pent imagined he would be no match. But today he was scared and exhausted. Pent swung his sword like a sledgehammer, crushing the strength from his foe's arms and knocking his foe to the ground, sword spinning away uselessly. Pent drove the point of his weapon into a gap in the man’s armor at his right shoulder. The blade struck bone and stuck, but the wounded soldier continued to writhe, trying to fight back. Leaning his weight into the blade, Pent forced it roughly through the man with the crack of bone crushed by steel. The man died, his hollow scream drowning in a rush of blood.
Pent twisted around just as Cenk drove his hammer into the abs of the last soldier, who dropped his sword and clutched at his stomach in agony. He stumbled backward and tripped over a grave. There he lay on the ground, sputtering and coughing up blood until he went silent.
Cenk, Faldo, and Pent shared a tired look and then turned from each other to look over the battlefield for any further threat. The remaining villagers broke into relieved cheers, celebrating only a moment before a single figure drew their attention. Everyone’s eyes turned to him now, his black cloak billowing in the breeze. Master Yozer was muttering something to himself, eyes closed, concentration deeply fixed. It was as if the entire world held its breath.
Yozer’s eyes shot open.
Everyone stepped back and clutched their weapons tighter. The right corner of Yozer’s lip curled up, ever so slightly. “Full of surprises indeed. That fool spoke true enough. It’s been over a hundred years since I’ve seen such a spirited display. You’ll have to trust me on that score; I’ve been around long enough to see some truly violent rebellions. I can see now how you stood up to that ignorant lout.”
Though he was horrified of drawing Yozer’s attention, Pent spoke out. “I don’t know what a lout is, but we didn’t kill Gilbrand if that’s what you mean. We only told him that we wouldn’t pay his unfair tribute anymore.”
“Of course you didn’t,” Yozer admitted happily. “I killed him. He was an impetuous fool, not worthy of the greatness I bestowed upon him.”
“Bestowed him?” Pent was having a hard time keeping up. The sorcerer wasn’t making much sense.
“You are so ignorant, all of you. Even now, brutes with swords try and usurp the rule of those wiser and stronger than they could ever hope to be.” He pointed at Pent derisively. “I’ve been killing broad-shouldered knights and warriors who thought they knew best since before you were born. Ignorance, everywhere I look. You know nothing of the chaos the world once was. Against the lamentations of my peers,” Yozer snarled the word, as if it offended him, “I united the world. Chaos is dead now, order reigns, but it can only reign as long as everyone follows the rules.” He pointed a single finger at his own face. “My word is law. I realize now that I have been gone far too long, that people have begun to forget. They have forgotten what my name means.” He laid his arms across his chest, the palms pressed against his body. “That was selfish of me. I realize that now. I took to my own pursuits and neglected your needs. But that is over. I shall remind you all of what the name Yozer means in this world.”
“So that’s it?” Pent asked. “You’re just here to spread fear, to kill everyone? What kind of leader is that?”
Yozer glared at Pent, eyes glowing fiercely. “That is not all. I also came to investigate the mystery Gilbrand had shared with me. A ‘tall dark man, full of surprises,’ I believe is how he phrased it. I needed to confirm something that bothered me about how he described you.”
Yozer sneered. “I was mistaken. I was staring after shadows of the past. You are no Crusader. You are nothing more than a brute. Maybe a tad more capable than the common brute, but a brute nonetheless.” He breathed in deeply like one might breathe in the aroma of a bouquet. “You speak of leadership. You should congratulate yourself, Pent, for leading everyone here to their deaths.”
His voice dropped several octaves as he shouted in the air. It was as if the words took on a physical form, cutting through Pent’s heart like a sharpened dagger. “Rise! Rise!” Yozer pressed his hands together like a priest ready to pray at the cross. “Rise! Rise!”
“RISE!”
The ground began to shake beneath their feet.
“RISE!”
The recently felled soldiers began to twitch.
“RISE!”
Pent stared in awe as the bodies of the dead began to reanimate, taking up arms once again. In the graveyard, skeletal arms burst through the dirt as Somerville’s dead began to claw their way to freedom.
The villagers gasped and cried in despair. They attempted to back away, but there was nowhere to turn. Reanimated soldiers in bloody armor stood side by side with horrific zombified villagers. Ricard’s corpse stood up slowly and began to march, side by side with the man he had killed moments earlier: Lemen.
“F… father!” Pent turned and saw Faldo, misty-eyed, looking in fear at a monster that had emerged from the largest gravesite. Faldo’s father approached with mindless grit and determination. Faldo fell to his knees in anguish.
Yozer’s laughter rose above all their lamentations. He shouted his final command to the dead army: “KILL THEM ALL!”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
The villagers’ morale gave out, unable to withstand the sight before them. Pent attempted to cheer them even as despair gripped him. “Raise your swords, men! Fight for your lives!” There was no turning back now.
Shouting out a battle cry, Pent rushed at the soldier he had killed only moments ago. The dead man’s eyes had rolled back in his head, and he barely reacted to Pent’s charge. With a wide sweep of his blade, he knocked the sword out of the corpse’s grasp and stabbed him through the forehead. Gotta shoot ‘em in the head if they’re zombies, right? The man’s body once again slumped to the ground.
Around him, the shaken villagers began to fight back. The zombified army was a pitiful replacement for the once-fierce soldiers. The skeleton warriors pursued their targets aggressively but made no attempt to defend themselves.
Cenk shouted as he crushed the head of a man he had already faced down. A horrific looking corpse missing half of its face gutted a villager with a rusted sword. One of the soldiers that had been impaled in the trench dragged himself toward the graveyard, his
entrails dragging through the dirt behind him. Pent shivered in disgust at the mockery of human life that stood before him.
Faldo shrieked as he fell, knocked off his feet by the monster that was once his father. The undead warrior grabbed his ancestral sword and raised it high in the air. Pent found himself covering yards of distance in an instant. He barreled into the skeletal horror, knocking it sprawling into its own gravestone. It attempted to shuffle to its feet, but he put a quick end to its efforts by cutting the legs out from under it.
Leaning down, Pent shouted into Faldo’s red-eyed, tear-streaked face. “Get it together, man! I know this is all screwed up, but get it together…” The words trailed off as he saw Lemen shambling towards them. Blood was still flowing from his stomach like a steady stream of wine. It soaked into his pants, dyeing them red, and trailed along the ground behind him.
“Damn, Lemen.” Pent choked up, momentarily overcome with emotion. “I’m sorry, man.” He closed his eyes and stabbed wildly, jamming his sword into Lemen’s neck, and putting a second end to him.
All the while, Yozer was laughing in a manic fever. He seemed entirely overcome with madness. His hands were out, fingers dancing as if he was guiding a marionette. Pent watched with horror as the man he had killed twice over now began to rise again. Faldo’s father rolled over and began to claw at his feet. Even Lemen was slowly regaining activity. Villagers, those who had been killed in the first wave of undead fighters, began to rise, and join the ranks of the second wave.
The zombies were pitiful fighters, but they were a never-ending threat. They outnumbered the villagers five to one now. Although they could be felled easily enough, they did not tire or fatigue and no wound seemed grievous enough to slay them. They would keep rising, over and over again until what remained of Somerville had fallen.
This will keep happening as long as he’s alive…
Yozer was enjoying himself. “Do you see? All fall before my might! You are nothing but pretenders. I was a veteran sorcerer before any of you were even born. I’ve held council with men who are now only known in legends. You believe yourself to be as bold as Picart? As unyielding as Hesh? What a farce!” A cold sneer crept across his face. “But fear not, Pent, for soon you’ll join my ranks! You’ll all join my ranks in the end!”
Pent took down a skeleton, and then a reanimated villager. Already his arms were faltering. A sharp pain blossomed in his arm as a sword slipped past his guard and struck him. He narrowly avoided losing the arm completely, but the warmth trickling down the wound made the inevitable clear. Rage boiled through him, aimed at the ghoulish sorcerer. What a foul person. What horrible things magic could bring in this world. Gordenthorpe was a coward, sure, but he was nothing like this monster.
Gordenthorpe. His hut. That force field. Pent’s eyes were wide with realization. If he learned everything from Yozer, then maybe his hut shield is the same. He dodged to the left, smashing into a skeleton’s chest with his shoulder pad, almost losing his footing in the process. He’s preoccupied now, and Gordenthorpe said that you needed to concentrate to use the shield. Faldo’s sword clanged right in front of him, parrying a blow aimed at his head. But if I charge him now, he’ll just throw the shield up. He returned the favor to Faldo, impaling a former villager before it could land a killing blow. But maybe…
He could feel his trusty M1911 in its holster, pressing against him. He can deflect arrows and firebombs, but I’d bet he has no idea what this is. Turning to Faldo, he shouted, “Cover me for a second?”
Faldo grunted, “And what have I been doing this whole time?”
Pent crouched down, pulling the gun from its holster.
Yozer was nearly frothing at the mouth, shouting, “Die! Die! Die!”
Pent raised the gun.
* * *
BAM! BAM!
* * *
The deafening roar of the gun tore through the air, setting Pent’s ears ringing. He watched as Yozer’s expression changed from merriment to shock.
Yozer clutched at his neck. His hand was soaked in blood. It sprayed through the gaps in his fingers like a geyser erupting. A wet cough gurgled up from his mouth as he tried to speak, but blood bubbled out instead of words. What little color he had drained from him, his skin taking on a ghostly pallor.
First shock, then rage, then, finally, fear played across his face. His other hand pressed into a second bullet hole in his chest. He stuck his finger into the hole as if he could staunch the torrent of blood with his bare hands. But the blood had drenched his cloak and was dripping onto the ground like a leaky faucet.
For just a second, he locked eyes with Pent. He stared first at the man who had killed him, and then the weapon he had used. His eyes widened for a moment, and then he fell. The great Yozer was no more.
The reanimated bodies began to stumble and fall. Faldo prodded at one with his sword with no reaction. The villagers began to shuffle and congregate towards Yozer’s corpse, staring open-mouthed at his lifeless body.
“We won.” The villagers stared at Pent. He smiled and raised his wounded arm in the air, yelling into the sky. “We won!” The villagers joined him in their cheers. They had taken the day. The village was saved.
Chapter Forty
Lyle brushed Pent on the shoulder, grabbing his attention, and making him wince from the throbbing pain. She led him over to the fortifications where Cenk and Ellie had gathered by a corpse. They limped to the fallen body, Faldo joining them.
Pent gasped when he saw the elder on the ground, lying on his back, two arrows sticking out of his chest.
“The chief… is he?”
“Not yet,” Chief Pohk said softly, a thin trickle of blood on his lips. “Not… yet.”
Ellie hung her head in her hands. “This is too much. If Riven was here… If Riven hadn’t betrayed us, maybe he…” She reached out to one of the arrows, and then withdrew her hand. “These wounds are beyond my abilities.”
Faldo shook his head. “Riven would be of no help here either, damn it all. How could this have happened?”
“Don’t be naive, Faldo,” Lyle said. She shot him a hard glance. “He was fighting with the rest of us. Any warrior can meet his end.”
“That’s… right,” the chief said between wheezes. “I was careless perhaps. Thinking I could hold the line with you youngsters. That is the folly of the old. We think there’s no end in sight, that we have all the answers. But everyone’s time must come.” He coughed again. A bubble of blood formed on the edge of his lips and burst.
“Man, please. Save your strength,” Pent said.
The chief continued as if he hadn’t heard Pent speak. “And what of the others?”
Lyle frowned. “We’ve lost many, sir. But we’ve won the day.”
“Lemen fell. He died a hero,” Faldo said.
Through all of his pain, the chief smiled. “Brave Lemen, trying to lose himself in a lake of liquor. It seems he has found himself after it all. He is with his family now.” Another bloody cough interrupted his words, and he went silent. They all waited for him to continue, unsure if he had passed on.
He opened his lips, speaking below a whisper. They all leaned forward to hear him.
“I’m afraid I’ll be joining them soon. All of my precious children who have left this world and moved onto the next. You all have so much courage. Please, decide amongst yourselves who will lead. A strong young hand will be needed in this dangerous world of ours.” He exhaled and his head fell back. The chief was gone.
They all stared after him for a moment, sharing a moment of mournful silence.
Cenk was the first to speak. “Who will lead?”
They all glanced at each other, wondering at the question. Pent stepped back a foot. He wasn’t even remotely interested in leading the village. I’m happy enough doing what I could to right this wrong, stomping out that horrible freak. No way I can lead. The chief had to make difficult decisions, taking on the lives of every person in the village as his own responsibili
ty.
“We need to be cautious,” Ellie said. They all looked at her. “Someone who would be greedy for power for their own purposes. That would be very dangerous.” She looked at the ground at her feet. “Someone like Riven.”
“He was a traitorous bastard, and, wherever he is, I hope the worst for him,” Faldo said. “My grandfather helped found this place, but…”
“But?” Pent said.
“But I’m not fit to lead you all. I know my role in the village.” He eyed the fallen corpses surrounding them. The damaged fortifications and the torn earth from the explosions. “I build things. I draw maps. I’m no warrior, and I’m no leader.” The others looked away, each gathering their thoughts.
“It should be me,” Lyle said at last. “I have the ear of our people already. I will be the new leader of Somerville.”
Pent nodded along with the others. It was the obvious choice. She already split leadership with the late chief, acting as advisor, teacher, confidant, and friend to all within Somerville. It wasn’t about lineage or a line of successors. It’s about who will do the best job. And it’s definitely her. “That’s the best call in my book, Mother Lyle.”
She smiled. There were dark rings under her eyes, dried blood coating her arm. She appeared at that moment about twenty years older than she had been when he first met her. “It’ll be Chief Lyle, from now on.”
* * *
Lyle assembled the survivors in the village square. Those who remained were bloody and bruised, some still holding their swords. She looked into all of their weary eyes and lowered her head. “We’ve fought hard, and we’ve lost much to come to this point.” She raised her head and smiled. “But we will move on, together. I’ve never been prouder of you than I am in this moment, and if Chief Pohk were still with us, I’m sure he would say the same.”
