The Land of the Undying Lord

by J. T. Wright

  With both hands struggling to hold the creature back, Trent thought of his weapons; they weren’t far away. If he let go, Strife was right there, but, no! The Sergeant had said he was never unarmed. He twisted the ear in his hand, moved his other arm, and clawed at its throat. He kicked its legs, trying to hit sensitive or vulnerable areas on his opponent.

  Trent heard Tersa screaming but was not able to see what was happening. She couldn’t come to his assistance. He didn’t have the breath or space to answer her. His attacks were ineffective, as the beast didn’t even seem to feel his kicks and continued to snap at his face.

  Trent didn’t recognize the creature. A long muzzle, sharp teeth, floppy ears. Tersa could have told him it was some type of dog, a large hound if she had been able to see it. Trent only knew it wanted to kill him, and from the sight of its rotting flesh, not to mention the smell, it was Undead.

  The last day had taught him that Undead were vulnerable to fire and certain types of healing magic, but he didn’t have those. Even if he could get his hand on Strife, he didn’t know if it would do him any good. This might be the end. And after the beast tore off his face, it would turn on Tersa, and she would die, not even knowing what had killed her.

  That thought spurred Trent to struggle harder. If he could get the beast off him, get to his feet, and create a light, there might be a chance for them. But how was he going to create light? Why was he so sure he could? The crates and barrels would burn, the wood was old and dry, but how?

  Spark! He did have a fire Spell, just a Charm, but the Undead were weak to fire. The hand gripping the Undead Hound’s ear slid to push in the beast's eye. He imagined a flame at the center of his palm and channeled Mana to it. As he felt the familiar feeling of the Spell’s completion, he spoke the trigger.

  “Spark!” A small red flame burst from his palm and seared the Hound’s unseeing eye. He had expected a reaction, a flinch or a wince. He didn’t expect the Hound’s head to erupt in flames as the beast staggered back.

  It was just a Charm, right? Weakness to fire or not, Spark was mostly intended for lighting candles and starting campfires, it wasn’t an offensive Spell. Trent froze in astonishment.

  Tersa’s eyes squeezed shut at the sudden light. She blinked and strained to see through squinting eyelids. To her credit, she didn’t freeze as she recognized a threat. Her booted foot lashed out, catching the Hound in the ribs. She didn't cause much damage, but the force of her kick lifted the Hound off Trent’s legs and carried it a few feet away.

  Trent scrambled to his feet and drew Strife. He then stood still as Tersa leaped forward, her mace crashing into the burning skull of the Hound, again and again, as she screamed at it. She seemed out of her mind with rage. Trent thought it best not to interfere.

  Soon the Hound’s body stopped moving, its skull crushed, the magic that kept it bound to the world exhausted. Tersa stood, mace held loosely, shoulders slumped. Was she crying?

  “Are you.” Trent cleared his throat. “Are you alright?” His clothing was in tatters, and he was bleeding from several light wounds to his chest, but Tersa looked like she’d been stabbed through the heart.

  “I'm fine!” She snapped, wiping at her tears with the filthy sleeve of her shirt.

  Again, Trent didn’t think she looked fine. Maybe it was just the light from the smoldering Undead that made her look that way.

  He was ready to press the issue when Tersa said with a sniffle. “It’s a dog, or it was. Shouldn’t have to hurt dogs. Not even Undead ones.”

  Trent was stumped. He had no experience with animals other than his nameless mare. “Are dogs good?”

  “Dogs are the best!” Tersa exclaimed, shooting him a look of disbelief. How could anyone be so ignorant? “I always wanted one, but Da said no. We can’t have them in the Guard barracks. I go and see the Duke’s hounds sometimes, the Hunt Master doesn’t mind.” She trailed off. “You okay? Should probably take a potion, no telling what the pup had under its nails.”

  Trent thought “pup” was an odd term of address for a snarling deliverer of death, but he let that go. He was also loath to waste a Health potion on such light wounds, but given the smell of the beast, it was better to be safe. He swallowed a potion and watched as his wounds slowly healed.

  By the time the potion had done its work, the room was dark again. Tersa shifted from foot to foot nervously. Trent considered the body of the Hound. There was one last thing to do. He drew his belt knife and moved forward.

  Hearing his movements, Tersa asked, “So what now? Can we make a torch or something? This darkness is creepy.”

  “Maybe we'll get something out of the drops. If not, we'll figure something out,” Trent said, going to work.

  “What drops? We both have Harvest, no drops unless…” Tersa’s eyes widened as she groped blindly, desperately trying to stop Trent from committing, what to her mind was, a sacrilegious act. “You can't Harvest a dog, Trent! You can’t!” she pleaded.

  I most certainly can, Trent thought, ignoring her and continuing with his knife. If he could Harvest a Grak or a Fleshling, he could Harvest a dog.

  Of course, he never had Harvested an Undead Hound before. The going was slow, as he Appraised each bit he could find, trying to tell what was valuable or useful. Not much, besides the Core and the Hide, it seemed.

  He distracted Tersa by shushing her and mentioning that yelling might not be wise. She clamped her jaw shut and settled for glaring in what she thought was his direction. Occasionally she muttered, “It’s not right, just not right.”

  When Trent was done separating the ragged hide and Level 2 Beast Core, he settled back on his heels and waited for the Trial to claim its own. It didn’t take long for the awaited loot to appear. He whistled as he appraised it.

  “What is it?” Tersa asked grumpily. Unable to see, and unable to stop him, she was growing increasingly dissatisfied.

  “One Spell Stone and one Ability Stone,” Trent said, picking up the precious loot. “The Ability is Fire Manipulation; the Spell is Prepare Hides. Just a Charm, but it might be useful somehow.”

  Tersa didn’t see how. Charms were everyday magic, rarely useful in life or death situations. Fire Manipulation, though. That sounded like proper magic. Tersa had always wanted something like that. “So, how should we split it?”

  Trent was glad his mask covered his grin. He heard the hopeful tone and saw her eager look. He shook his head, and he realized without Dark Vision, Tersa couldn’t see his grin mask or not. She still wasn’t looking in his direction even as her eyes pleaded for him to be generous and hand her the Ability Stone.

  Trent did, pressing the Fire Manipulation stone into her hands. “You made the actual kill; you take the Ability,” he told her.

  Tersa frowned when he reminded her of her sin, but she took the Stone. Her eyes closed, and she focused on learning the Ability it contained. Trent did the same with the Charm. Almost instantly, knowledge of Prepare Hides entered his mind, and with the Charm, an idea for its use became apparent.

  As Tersa stood, lips pursed, concentrating on the Ability stone, Trent picked up the hide of the Undead Hound. He concentrated on sending Mana to his hands and whispered the trigger, Prepare. He smoothed his hands over the ragged skin and watched in amazement as it was seasoned and repaired.

  Once the Charm was done, he held not a ragged skin but a heavy piece of hide, ready to be used. He looked at Tersa standing there with her eyes closed and an ever-increasing amount of annoyance on her face. Her nose had wrinkled in the way it did when she was about to be stubborn about something. Trent looked back at the hide.

  Preparing it had used almost half of his Mana. When he appraised it now, it said the item was a low-quality hide useful for crafting. He didn’t have any crafting Skills, but he didn’t think that was all that important. Skills made work easier, and the results better, but they weren’t essential to all aspects of life.

  He folded the hide in half with the fur on the inside. Looking at t
he dark leather of the hide, he took his belt knife and carefully cut a hole at the fold. It was slow going, and the final results weren’t very clean, but eventually he was left with a hole big enough for Tersa to slip her head through. He appraised the item again.

  Low-Quality Hide Armor

  Common Item

  Armor rating 1

  Not great but certainly better than the dirty, sweat-stained shirt that was currently Tersa’s only protection. What was shocking was the message he received from his Status.

  You have learned Armor Crafting Level 1. You will now find it easier to craft simple armor. +1 dexterity +1 Wisdom. 200 Experience awarded for learning Class-related Skill.

  As welcome as the Attribute boosts were, Trent was puzzled how Armor Crafting was a Class-related Skill. Were Survivalists craftsman? Should he try to learn more Crafting Skills?

  As Trent studied his work, Tersa gave an angry groan. She almost threw the stone in her hand against the wall. She might have if she had been able to see the wall. Damned darkness! She couldn’t learn this Ability! One more thing to add to the list of things she had no affinity for!

  At her groan, Trent looked up from his newly crafted armor. “What’s the matter?”

  “I can’t learn this stupid… stupidness!” she growled. She sighed and held it out, but not in his direction. “You might as well take it and try. Were you able to learn the Charm?”

  She asked, not hoping he had failed, not exactly, but another Charm for her meager collection wouldn’t be a bad thing. She wasn’t surprised by his answer, though.

  “Ah, yes, I learned it.” He took the Ability Stone and pressed the hide armor into her hands. “But here I… found… this.” If Tersa had been upset at killing the Undead Hound, she probably would balk at wearing its skin.

  “What is it?” Tersa asked. Her face screwed up at his explanation. At first, he though his use of the Hound’s skin had been discovered, then, “How am I supposed to put it on? I can’t see it.”

  Instead of pointing out that it was just a matter of slipping her head through a hole, he said, “Hold on.”

  He didn’t move to help her but concentrated on the Ability Stone. It was no problem for him to learn Fire Manipulation. He wouldn’t mention how easy it was for him.

  He summoned Spark to his palm again. As the flame appeared, he focused and held it in place. Normally the Charm would fade after a few seconds, but with Fire Manipulation, he was able to convince it to stay. It wasn’t an order, really; more of an invitation.

  He stared at the flickering light in his hand. Once not so long ago, the flame probably would have made him uneasy. Fire Manipulation gave him understanding. This was his tool, his power, it would do as he wanted, within reason, and it could not harm him.

  The flame barely illuminated more than a few feet ahead. Tersa’s eyes, which had grown used to the dark, only needed a few blinks to adjust. She gave a short, “yay,” and studied her new armor while Trent looked at the Spark.

  At the edges of the dull red flame, it burned white. Not hotter, but purer. Heart of the Inferno, the Ability he had gained from the Burning Lake Trial, added a purification effect to any fire-related Skills he controlled. He had the ability to harm the Undead this whole time without realizing it.

  That was why Spark had done such damage to the Undead Hound. Not enough to kill it, but it was more than a diversion to have your head set aflame by a power that struck at the very substance that kept you in the world. If he had known sooner, it wouldn’t have changed much, but it would have been useful to experiment with.

  He looked at Tersa, who was frowning at her hide armor, and then walked past her to the still-open door. He had the feeling he’d get plenty of chances to experiment from here on out. They were wasting time now.

  “Just put it on,” he told Tersa. “It’s better than nothing.”

  She frowned at him, then the armor, then sighed and slid it over her head. She took off her weapons belt and fastened it over the hanging hide. It hung past her waist and was bulky, not to mention ugly, with bristling fur sticking out everywhere, but he was right. It was better than nothing. She’d prefer something a little nicer and heavier, but it didn’t inhibit her movement, and she couldn’t come up with any complaints yet.

  She had set her mace down to put her armor on. She bent down and picked it up. When she stood up, Trent was reaching towards her with the flame in his hand. Of course, he had learned the stupidness that was Flame Manipulation! She flinched back, slapping at his wrist. “What are you doing?!”

  “Hold still!” He wanted to add, “and keep quiet!” but he didn’t. He was a little smarter than that. He'd have to find some way to gently remind his friend that yelling was bad when you didn’t know what was around. Just because the Undead didn’t rely on noise to find them, didn’t mean the Trial didn’t have other creatures that did.

  He set the flame on her shoulder, coaxing it to stay put, to stick but not burn. To light without heat… brighter, brighter… in the end, Tersa had a flickering light on her shoulder that lit nearly every corner of the small room. It gave away their position, cost over half of Trent’s Mana pool, and would last just less than an hour, but it would have to do. After all, Tersa couldn’t wander in the dark.

  “Huh!” was all that Tersa could say after the process was complete. Maybe Fire Manipulation wasn’t the stupidness. Maybe Trent was the stupidness for being able to learn the Ability when she couldn’t.

  Trent left Tersa nodding to herself. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t like the thought that made her smirk at the flame on her shoulder. He moved to the open doorway. “Wait here, I'm going to look around.”

  He stepped out and entered a long hallway that stretched out in both directions. He didn’t activate Stealth or Camouflage. They weren’t useful with the Undead, not at his levels, and he needed to conserve Stamina.

  The hallway was constructed of the same carved blocks of grey stone that the room was. The air was damp and dreary, heavy in an unpleasant, unmoving kind of way. He looked in both directions. A doorway stood a short distance to the right, a stretch of hallway and a corner to the left. There were no torches or even sconces, no signs of life or un-life, and no traps that he could see either.

  He padded softly to the right, moving as quietly as he could. Stopping before he had gone half the distance, he whispered to Tersa, without looking back, “That light gives us away. Why don’t you rest for a bit while I scout some?”

  Tersa stood almost directly behind him. She looked over her shoulder as she replied without bothering to lower her voice, “The Undead don’t see with their eyes, or hear with their ears. Stealth is stupid.”

  “There might be more… other…fine,” he gave up. “But stay back a little, no need to bunch up.” If it wasn’t for his cowl, he would have been able to feel her breath on his neck, she was so close.

  Tersa stuck out her tongue behind him but took a few steps back. She gripped her mace tightly, as Trent moved to the closed door. He paused in front of it. She wondered what he was doing. Why not open it? Was he checking for traps? Probably some sneaky Rogue thing with his many hidden Skills. He probably knew exactly what was on the other side already and was killing the Undead with his mind.

  In truth, Trent was checking for traps. He was nearly certain there were none. Still, he stared a bit longer. Despite what people kept saying he was no Rogue, and he was new to this. Was there something else he could do to check the room besides just opening the door. Peer through the keyhole? Press his ear to the wood?

  He bit his lip and reached for the doorknob. This hadn’t gone well last time. He stopped. He drew Strife with his right hand and then reached out with his left. Deep breath.

  He turned the knob and pulled hard! The door didn’t move. He realized his mistake and gave it a shove. He jumped back and drew Sorrow. He almost dropped his second axe as his back bumped into Tersa, who had stepped closer, curious to see what he was doing.

  He steadied
his hands on the handles of his axes, resisting the urge to tell Tersa to back up. She peeked over his shoulder as the new door opened with a low groan just like the last. No Undead Hound leaped out at the pair. No Fleshlings appeared to claw and snap at them. Nothing.

  Trent shuffled forward to get a better look into the room. A table sat in the center. On the table was an unlit lantern. Sitting around the table were two skeletal corpses. Trent wondered how they died, and if were they part of a puzzle the Trial was offering them. The corpses stood and picked up crude wooden clubs from the ground.

  Ah, not skeletal corpses. Skeletal Corpses. Monsters. That should have been obvious. Trent shook his head in exasperation.

  Trent seemed to have frozen in the face of the Corpses. Tersa pushed passed him and charged. She was good at charging; it was one of the few things she was praised for. She wished she had a shield. She was good with shields.

  The Skeletal Corpses were faster than you’d expect from a body without muscle. They scurried around the table and met the Recruit’s charge. Tersa dodged a wooden club and swung her mace. A heavy steel mace should easily shatter unprotected bone, and Tersa heard a satisfying crunch as her blow hit a Skeleton’s shoulder. No flying shrapnel of bone, though the Skeleton did stumble back and to the side.

  The second Skeletal Corpse was swinging at her. She stepped in, parrying the club with her mace and lashing out with her fist, just like she’d been taught. Of course, the Guardsmen wore gauntlets when performing this strike and Tersa’s gauntlets were with her horse, somewhere else.

  Fist met jawbone, and the Skeleton’s head rocked back. Tersa learned that despite her relatively high Constitution, hitting bone with bare hands still hurt. She ignored the stinging sensation and shoulder-charged her opponent, forcing it back.

  The first Skeleton had recovered and was swinging at her again. She dodged, lashing out and scoring another hit. Where was Trent? Two Corpses, just two of them, this should be easy. He’d faced worse than this not twenty minutes ago; he shouldn’t be frozen still. She risked a glance in his direction.