by C. M. Carney
No. She could have killed a few more of them. And if she fell, she would have provided a filling meal. Either way, we are weaker for protecting her. But you want a date.
“You are one cold bastard.”
I am as my nature defines me, as are you, as is this Knight of the Blazing fist. I fear your sentimentality may doom us both.
In a typical teenage fashion, Simon refused to admit the Barrow was right, and he was wrong. “Well, no point in crying over spilled milk. What do we do now?”
The only thing we can do. Generate as many dread knights as possible and hope.
“No,” Simon said. “There is one more thing we can do. I’ll need a bit of that power of yours.”
8
Sir Humperdinck led them through the final hallway and into the Barrow King’s throne room. The undead sorcerer sat on his throne, black spectral smoke robes flowed around him and he clutched a gnarled staff of blackened wood. An unnerving chill flowed in waves through the room, biting into Verreth’s bones.
Arrayed in front of the lich were more than a dozen dread knights. These were better armed and armored, and fuller in the muscle department than the ones they’d dispatched earlier.
“I do not like this,” Serraia said.
“Fear not fair maiden, for I am Sir Herman Heinrich Humperdinck and I was born for this moment. I hold my sword up high, bathed in the glory and light of the empyrean realm. I will lay these abominations low and I…”
“Jeez dude, are you done yet?” the Barrow King asked.
Sir Humperdinck stopped and looked in shock and bewilderment at the undead monstrosity who’d just interrupted him. “How… how dare you?”
“Yeah, yeah, I dare. You’re boring. Shut up.”
Verreth looked sideways at Serraia and whispered. “He sounds like a kid?”
The Barrow King’s eyes snapped to Verreth, and all the arrogance and confidence leached from him like blood from a critical wound.
“Um, no I am not a kid. I am the Barrow King, and I’m many, many thousands of years old. And powerful. You don’t know how powerful.”
“Okay,” Verreth said, leaning back on one foot, prepping to run if the need arose.
“I care not how much power you have, for I, Sir Herman …”
“Harry Humperjohnson, yeah, yeah I know, I heard you the first time,” The Barrow King said, once again interrupting the knight.
“Well… I never. It is Heinrich Humperdinck not … I won’t even repeat what you said.” The knight sputtered and wheezed as he tried to regain his composure.
Verreth grew suspicious. Something was off with this whole situation. What he didn’t know was whether that ‘off’ worked to his benefit, or if it meant his doom was upon him. He needed more information.
“If I may, your liege?” Verreth asked, earning an angry glare from Sir Humperdinck for daring to address the Barrow King. “I believe we can come to a beneficial arrangement.”
The Barrow King turned its silvery eyed gaze upon him. “Yeah? Whatcha thinkin’?”
“Well, as you may suspect, my lovely companion and I do not see eye to eye with all of our stalwart companion’s … philosophies.”
“What?” Sir Humperdinck blurted in shock, eyes glaring at Verreth. “He is a lord of undeath, a foul defiler of life and … and … he speaks in a mocking tone.”
“Yeah, I don’t care about any of that,” Verreth said. “I just want to live.”
“You cannot be serious,” Serraia said, eyes tinged with red. “He killed Gerryt.”
“I did not. That was the wyrmynn,” The Barrow King protested, leaning forward, hand clutching his staff. “Though we did feed on his corpse, so I get why you’re mad.” The Barrow King eased back onto his throne and made a sound like a man struggling to suck a piece of mutton from between his teeth. “Sorry, I’m still getting used to these new teeth.” He sucked for a few more seconds. “Almost got it.” The slurping grew to a disgusting intensity.
“We are wasting time,” Sir Humperdinck roared and raised his sword. “I call on the Devas of Light and the Lords of Life to grant me the power to burn this dread revenant of death.”
Golden light flared from every pore of Sir Humperdinck’s body. Verreth watched as it flowed over the closest dread knight charring its skin. The other dread knights leapt into battle even though each moment of exposure to the knight’s holy light burned away more of their artificial life.
The Barrow King raised his staff and smacked it hard on the dais in front of his throne. A shimmering shield expanded in front of the revenant glistening like an oil-covered puddle. The empyrean energy impacted the shield with the force of a stormfront against a rocky shore, but the shield held.
The dread knights were not so lucky. The holy energy rolled over and through them. Then the light flashed out, leaving multicolored spots lingering in everyone who had eyes.
Verreth blinked away the spots just in time to see the dread knights collapse in heaps of ash.
“Well that sucked,” The Barrow King said, a twinge of fear pushing through the pubescent squeak in his voice. “You couldn’t have waited a few more seconds to do that?”
“Why would I deign to grant you even a second more of this unnatural existence?” Sir Humperdinck asked.
“Because then my reinforcements could have arrived.”
Sir Humperdinck had no time to wonder what the Barrow King was talking about before a wave of high-pitched keening erupted into the room in the form of dozens of tiny, mushroom-headed men. Several of the fungoid creatures rammed their toadstool caps into the back of Sir Humperdinck’s legs, knocking him to the ground.
A dozen more of the creatures swarmed the downed knight, bursts of spores exploding from mouthlike orifices straight into his face. The knight howled in pain and confusion, struggling to regain his feet. He swung his massive sword back and forth, cleaving through the spongy bodies of the mushroom men with ease.
Verreth grabbed Serraia’s arm as he backed away from the expanding cloud of spores but could not pull her free before the spores enveloped her head. She hacked and coughed and then screamed.
Verreth released his grip on her and fell backward, scrabbling on all fours to the back wall where he hid behind a column. He watched as Serraia’s tanned skin became a splotchy melange of gray-green spots. She went silent and fell onto her face.
Another roar of pain and anger drew Verreth’s gaze back to Sir Humperdinck. He rose to one knee, swung his sword wide, ending the life of three more mushroom men, then stood and swung again. The surviving fungoid creatures backed away, possessing enough self-awareness to preserve their lives.
Sir Humperdinck held his free hand up and made a fist. A corona of green fire flowed around his fist, up his arm and surrounded his entire body. Then the green flames thrummed off of the knight’s body in waves. A high-pitched keening rose from the fungoid men as the green fire rolled over them and they started burning, bringing the pleasant smell of roasted mushrooms to Verreth’s nose. The waves of green fire did not penetrate the Barrow King’s shield, but it flickered and then failed as the wave of green fire dissipated.
Sir Humperdinck knelt, placed his sword point down and spoke.
“A Knight of the Blazing Fist is the light in the darkness, a shield for the living and the bane of the undead. Your foul existence is at an end. I will cleave thy skull in twain. I will sunder your connection to this realm and cast your tortured soul to the abyss. While I have breath left in my lungs and while my beating heart pumps lifeblood through me, I shall let no undead live. This I vow.”
Sir Humperdinck stood, surrounded by holy fire and filled with radiant light. He strode with purpose towards the undead lord.
“I just have one thing I’d like to ask,” the Barrow King said, the pitch of his voice rising.
“I will hear none of your foul incantations, lich,” Sir Humperdinck said and swung his sword in a mighty arc. The Barrow King ducked, and the sword missed by mere inches, takin
g a chunk of bone out of his throne.
“No, no incantations, just a question, one of theology.”
“I have no interest in what you have to say. The knight swung again, and this time the strike caused the lich to fall onto its backside.
“I was wondering if that vow you made is binding?”
“Of course it is. I am a knight, and I live and die by my honor.” He swung again, the sword slicing through one of the Barrow King’s arms. The Barrow King screamed as the limb fell away, dissolving into ectoplasmic goo before it hit the ground.
“I only ask, cuz I noticed that you’re not breathing.”
Oh crap, Verreth thought, a deep unease growing in his stomach.
“What?” Sir Humperdinck blurted, causing his swing to miss its mark.
“You’re not breathing,” the Barrow King said. “And your heart isn’t beating. You realize you are undead … right?”
Sir Humperdinck stopped his next attack, letting his sword clang to the ground. His eyes widened and his mouth hung open. “What?” he said rather stupidly. His mouth may not have known the truth, but his eyes did and his fingers went limp and his sword clattered to the ground. He fell to his knees and beseeching eyes looked up, locking onto the silver glows inside the Barrow King’s skull.
“Yeah, sorry dude. I thought you knew,” the Barrow King said.
“I’m dead.”
“Undead, hence why you can still walk around and threaten and such.”
“I am the evil I despise.”
“Come on guy. It’s not that bad, really. Beats the alternative, right?”
Sir Humperdinck wept, his shoulders pumping up and down as ragged sobs flowed through him. After a moment he calmed, grabbed his sword and stood. The Barrow King backed away, but Sir Humperdinck did not attack. Instead, he looked at the lich with eyes that begged forgiveness. After a moment he looked away.
“I cannot live as one of the accursed undead,” the knight said in a low voice, and then swung his sword at his own neck. The blade bounced off his shoulder, deflected by the pauldrons of his armor. He tried again, and again, with no further success. Chopping off one’s own head was apparently harder than it looked. After a few more tries, Sir Humperdinck fell to his knees and wept.
The Barrow King knelt by the knight’s side. After a moment he placed a spectral hand on the dead knight’s shoulder. “If you need someone to talk to, I’m a good listener.”
“I just want to die.”
“Yeah, saw that. Kinda hard to do it that way though.”
Sir Humperdinck looked up at the Barrow King. “Will you help me?”
“Uh … you sure you don’t wanna hang around? We could be pals.”
“I just want to die.”
“Suit yourself then.”
Verreth watched as the Barrow King stood, picked up Sir Humperdinck’s sword and gave it a few practice swings. The revenant nodded in appreciation as Sir Humperdinck knelt, grabbing the sides of the throne and exposing his neck.
“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” the Barrow King said in an unexpectedly kind voice and brought the sword down in one quick, terrible blow.
Sir Humperdinck’s head plopped onto the seat of the throne and his body slumped to the floor. The tin amulet slipped from the neck stump and clattered to the floor. The Barrow King bent down and picked it up. Then it began to glow.
“Woah, what the…?” the Barrow King shouted, dropping the amulet.
The amulet bounced and hummed and spun. It gyrated faster and faster and then imploded into a singularity. The singularity pulsed and frothed and then suddenly a corpulent man, naked as the day he was born, popped into existence.
“Ahhh,” the Barrow King said in a tone most unbecoming of a lord of the undead and watched as the man moaned, vomited and then collapsed onto his face. The singularity stopped spinning, expanded back into the amulet and thunked off the newcomer’s head and clattered to a stop a few inches from the Barrow King’s foot.
“Who the hell is this guy?” the Barrow King blurted.
Verreth didn’t know what was going on with the Barrow King. He was nothing like the ancient tales suggested, even accounting for the exaggeration and liberal treatment of facts those tales often fell victim to. It was time to gamble with the prize being his life.
“It was a curse,” Verreth said.
“Oh, shit, I forgot you were there,” the Barrow King said jumping. He stared right at Verreth and despite the creature’s juvenile nature, Verreth felt his blood chill. “You know who this dude is?”
“I do. His name is Bahldreck, he’s the least favorite son of a minor local noble family, and he unwittingly carried the burden of that family’s curse.”
“Tell me about this curse.”
“His family was once very powerful, but they reneged on a promise to help the Knights of the Blazing Fist, leading to all but one member of the order being killed right here in the Barrow. The lone survivor used powerful magic to bind the soul of one of their greatest warriors to the amulet.” Verreth pointed at the amulet.
The Barrow King stopped, gingerly picking it up. “Did Bahldreck deserve the burden?”
“No, by all accounts he was a good guy.”
“Yet you still used him?”
“I did,” Verreth said. “I never said I was a good guy.”
Bahldreck moaned and opened and closed his mouth like a suffocating fish.
“Is he gonna be okay?” the Barrow King asked.
“Do you care?” Verreth asked.
“I don’t like bullies,” the Barrow King said, looking down upon Bahldreck.
A shock moved through Verreth’s body as a realization hit him. “Someone did this to you,” he said, and it wasn’t a question.
The Barrow King looked up, eyes drilling into Verreth’s soul. This wasn’t hyperbole. He felt his soul being analyzed, parsed and cataloged. Verreth had never been so afraid in his life.
“You have one chance to walk out of here with your life,” the Barrow King said in a voice that was much surer than it had been.
Verreth froze. “I’m listening.”
“Maybe you’ve figured it out already, but I’m kinda new here. I took over from the last asshole and I’m looking to do things differently from the way he did them. I’m a people person.”
“You mean you eat people,” Verreth said, hoping he hadn’t overplayed his hand.
“That’s not technically correct. The Barrow doesn’t eat people, it dissolves those who die in its environs and absorbs their energy and experiences. But I can see how that bit of minutia wouldn’t make much of a difference to you.”
“It makes me feel better, oddly.”
“Good, that means we might be able to work together.”
“What do you have in mind?” Verreth asked, a whiff of hope pushing through his feelings of dread.
“I’m looking to expand. But, I have a marketing problem, being a murderous dungeon who consumes people and all.”
“And you want me to what, convince people to come here?”
“The right kind of people.”
“And what kind of people is that?”
“The strong kind. Like you. You came here. You must have had a reason?”
Verreth nodded. “Treasure.”
“I suspected as much. I can provide people with a chance to achieve their dreams of wealth and power, but I want you to vet them?”
“Vet them?” Verreth asked.
“I will not continue the tradition of the powerful preying on the weak. I will not allow lords and slavers to send people in here against their will so they may reap the benefits of their slaughter. Any man or woman, or shambling bit of fungus may enter the Barrow of their own accord. Some will get their treasure, others will die and feed us, but it will be fair.”
Verreth buried his surprise, sensing an opportunity, not only to extend his lifespan but to increase the size of his coin purse. “You want me to be your gatekeeper?”
&
nbsp; “I was thinking the Grand Poobah of Awesome, but your title sounds more official.”
“What’s in it for me?” Verreth asked
“Apart from your life?” The Barrow King stared at him until Verreth nodded. “You get to tax those you bring to the Barrow at a rate of 10% of all the swag they take, with the caveat that any weapons, armor or other items that specialize in killing, protecting people from or even mildly inconveniencing the undead are mine. What do you say?”
Verreth’s heart thudded in his chest. In all his years of hustling, cheating, and scheming, he’d never imagined a moment like this one. He looked up at the Barrow King. “Make it 15% and we have a deal.”
The Barrow King stared for several long heartbeats, and Verreth feared he had overplayed his hand when the Barrow King extended a spectral hand that turned to bone. “Done.”
Verreth hesitated for the merest of moments before he reached forward and took the hand. A chill pushed into his bones. I’m going to live, he thought and realized that until that moment he truly believed he would die. He looked up at the undead horror and smiled.
“The name’s Verreth.”
“Good to meet ya man, I’m Simon.”
Simon and the Barrow will Return in Scourge of Souls. Coming Soon.
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