The Dark Lord Cecil

by Wade Adrian

  True, his essence was tied to the crown forever, and he’d end up like Murray and Egerton when the thing did get used… but that would be on someone else’s conscience. And hopefully a very long ways off.

  And besides, maybe Kenley would find some way to fix that… someday.

  It was kind of weird looking out over the madness. Some people really went in for this whole battle thing. They had special metal clothes. That was pretty involved. Lots of effort. Meanwhile Cecil’s nicest clothes before all this started were hand me downs from Calder that he could only wear if they were going to market. Or the occasional wedding.

  Some people had weird priorities. Having sharp bits of metal swung at him wasn’t very high on Cecil’s to do list.

  Egerton, on the other hand, seemed to delight in it. While most of the skeletons were hard to make out at this distance, Egerton’s attire and horse made him stand out. He swung his sword about this way and that despite the fact that he still wasn’t near the front. Which meant he was yelling out orders and pointing.

  Murray hadn’t even gotten there yet.

  With the two of them as examples that didn’t line up in the least, some of Cecil’s confusion about ending up the Dark Lord faded. Clearly there were no standards at all and fate was just running this by ear.

  A lot of commotion in Redding’s line caught Cecil’s eye. He turned his head a bit, watching. They had some sort of… small wooden crates. Were they planning to build a barricade? Hide and let Gomer fend for himself, after he had come to their aid? That sounded like Redding, but he didn’t have nearly enough of those crates.

  No… they opened the boxes and had… ropes? What were they doing with ropes?

  Redding appeared for the first time Cecil had seen all day, standing tall, not hiding in the least. He was… waving his arms about. Was he taunting them? They were practically mindless, who was he trying to…

  Egerton had turned his horse to face him, his sword high as the beast moved through the other skeletons with ease.

  Redding was waiting, standing on a crate for the world to see.

  Strange. It was almost like he wanted them to attack him. Granted, there was still the shield wall to consider, and they had been gaining ground allowing more of their men to file in, but they still weren’t in a great position to…

  The ropes. The men with ropes were tying them off in a pattern Cecil knew well. Lassos.

  He slammed the crown on his head hard enough that it hurt his ears, yelling in his mind. “Egerton! Get back! They’re goading you-”

  Ropes were wrapped around him. Five out of seven had hit home, dragging him from the horse and into the crowd.

  Redding’s line split for a moment as Egerton was drug through, but it snapped shut again before more than a handful of other bones made it through.

  “Murray! Eyes sharp, press Redding’s line! They have Egerton!”

  Murray’s voice echoed through the crown. “What? Why?”

  “I don’t know! They lassoed him and pulled him into their formation.”

  Egerton’s voice was patchy, appearing in the crown for a moment then fading away. It was only curses.

  Cecil could only watch as they grabbed hold of Egerton and yanked, coming away with arms, legs, and his skull removed. All the parts moved independently. An arm flopped free of its captor and crawled a few feet before they dog piled on top to grab it again.

  He had no idea what they hoped to accomplish with this move. Egerton was immortal as long as there was a Dark Lord, why put so much effort into subduing him?

  One by one bits of Egerton were shoved into the small crates, their lids shut and latched.

  Cecil blinked. Well… that meant they knew he was immortal and needed a clever way to subdue him. That would probably do it.

  Murray was pressing the line, though staying back far enough to avoid the ropes. He had nearly all the skeletons attacking that side, only a handful keeping Gomer at bay while the rest caused Redding’s line to shift and lose ground. They hadn’t really been trying before. That had changed.

  The boxes containing Egerton were lifted and carried off in different directions.

  “Can’t… can’t breathe…” The voice echoed in Cecil’s head.

  “Egerton? Egerton, listen. You’re a skeleton. You don’t breathe. You’re okay. You’re immortal.”

  “Can’t see. Can’t move! I can’t… I can’t…” Only screaming followed, despite Cecil’s efforts to calm him.

  He took the crown off. They had their orders.

  As he sat on the hill he felt… helpless. Egerton was down there in trouble and he couldn’t do a thing.

  What use was the stupid crown?

  Murray slashed at another lasso thrown his way. “Is that the best you can do? Like the same trick is going to work twice! Idiots!”

  He knew Cecil didn’t really want violence. Not a single human had died yet, though more than a few skeletons had been pummeled to the point of never rising again. This was getting out of hand. Violence seemed more necessary all the time… but Murray couldn’t act on that thought, no matter how logical it was. Cecil said not to kill. Cecil was in charge.

  Another rope flew his way. Murray held out his free hand and grabbed it before wrapping it around the horn of his saddle and kicking his skeletal horse in the flanks it didn’t really have anymore. Regardless, it understood the command and charged while he turned, pulling the man on the other end of the rope into the back of his own line, knocking over a handful of the defenders in the shield wall and pushing them forward into the sea of skeletons.

  It made enough of a gap for the skeletons to grab defenders and pull them further in while others crossed into the breach screaming and swinging like mad men.

  “I want pressure on all sides of that breach! Don’t give them a chance to close it!” Murray pointed his sword as he untied the rope and cast it aside. “If you see a rope or a box bash the rapscallion holding it about the ears, face, and wedding tackle!”

  Ugh. He really needed an order to get violent. This schoolyard nonsense wasn’t going to cut it. Yeah, they were supposed to lose, but Egerton being shipped to six different corners of the world wasn’t part of the deal. It hadn’t been too long since he was pulled apart, but Murray had lost sight of the boxes. He could be anywhere. Or… everywhere.

  The very thought of it made Murray’s skin crawl, and he didn’t have any. He could still feel it. Phantom skin. And it was sympathy for Egerton, of all people. He hated that guy. Still, no one deserved that. Especially not for eternity. That was just… unnecessary. Rude, even.

  “Murray?” Cecil’s voice echoed in his skull.

  “Kind of busy here, boss.” His horse pushed for the breach, but there were a few skeletons in the way. Made sense. He’d told them to get in his way. Not the best strategist.

  “Get him back, Murray. Any means necessary.”

  Murry paused a moment, his head tilted. That had sounded a lot like the kid gloves being taken off. “Consider it done, then.” He raised his sword. “Make me a river of blood, minions!”

  “No! Not them, Murray. You. Just you.”

  “Oh. Well… shucks.”

  31

  Cecil took the crown off again. He set it in his lap as he sat on the edge of the hill watching. Murray could do this. He could handle it. And he would keep the bloodshed to a minimum. Letting them all loose… that was a recipe for disaster. The plan hadn’t changed, it had just… hit a snag. A big snag, and a nasty one, but just that.

  He scowled as he thought about Redding being so happy all the time, humoring them as he made plans to tear everything apart. He’d probably been planning this since he saw the first skeleton. Somehow he knew about them, had known about them before he ever showed up. How?

  Ugh. No matter. They could fix this. They could recover. All would be well.

  It had to be.

  River of blood notwithstanding, the order to produce one had been yelled at the top of Murray’s… er…
lungs? At any rate, it had been overheard by the enemy and several of them had decided they didn’t like being on the front line for some reason. The wall had new cracks and the rear rank was losing members, too. Something about the better armored front line falling apart seemed to scare them, go figure.

  Not exactly ideal considering the overall plan, but right now he would take it. He charged his horse up through the largest divide as skeletons poured across the line, his eyes peeled for boxes and jerks carrying them.

  “Boss? You see anything?”

  There was no reply.

  “Boss? Cecil? Hello?”

  Nothing.

  Murray scowled. Oh, that was how it was. Issue orders all willy nilly but not hanging out to listen? What a di… delightful person. Ugh. Stupid enforced loyalty. He couldn’t even insult Cecil in his own mind.

  Someone running to the rear caught his eye. He charged his horse past the lines, over several of them, slashing as he passed.

  Blood flew, perhaps for the first time today, unless someone had tripped and hurt themselves.

  His horse thundered ahead in hot pursuit of a short chubby man in robes carrying a box. The creature’s hooves didn’t sound quite right hitting the ground, but it had lost a lot of weight. He didn’t say anything for fear it would be self conscious. He knew he wasn’t half the man he used to be.

  He leaned to the side, grabbing hold of the horse’s exposed ribcage as he stretched far out and swung low, hitting the little fat man in the back of the legs, sending him tumbling.

  Murray reined his horse in while the man scrambled, trying to find his feet. He would live, and be fine. Murray had hit him with the hilt of his sword on purpose. He didn’t want the man distracted with pain.

  Yet.

  When the little fat man moved to pick up the box he had lost when he tumbled, Murray threw his sword hard enough to leave it sticking out of the ground. The man stumbled back a step, landing on his ample posterior.

  Murray hopped down from his horse. “Good morning. Got a few questions, if you don’t mind.” He did his best to scowl. It was hard without a face. Probably just looked like he was narrowing his eyes.

  The little man cowered anyway.

  He had colored robes on under his bland brown one.

  Murray pulled his sword free of the dirt. “Well, well. What a colorful dream coat.” He knelt down and drug the box over. “Let’s have a chat, shall we?”

  The scholar shook his head. “He’ll kill me.”

  Murray let a laugh bubble up slowly, growing until he was shaking. “When I’m done, you’ll beg for that. And I won’t give it to you. You’ll be nothing but bones, voiceless for eternity, standing and staring at the sun, waiting for a command that never comes until you crumble to dust.”

  It wasn’t true, they all sort of had autonomy, but nobody on the fleshy side of the equation knew that.

  The scholar’s face had drained of color.

  Murray grasped the lid of the box and yanked as hard as he could…

  His hand slipped off the lid, his arm swinging in a heavy slap across the scholar’s chin.

  He crumpled with a cry.

  Huh. Well that worked out. He tried to open the box again to no avail. He couldn’t see any locks, but the darn thing just…

  He snatched up his sword and jammed it into the slight gap between box and lid. With a twist the thing came open like it was full of springs.

  Egerton’s skull gasped for air and turned slightly, his eyes shut against the sudden light. “Ahh!”

  Murray scoffed. “You’re welcome.” He picked up the skull with his left hand, holding his sword pointed at the scholar with his right. “Where are the other boxes? Tell me, or I’m going to let him chew on you until you do.”

  Egerton’s eyes snapped to the scholar. His jaw snapped open and shut a few times. Murray wasn’t sure if he was truly mad and trying to bite, but he rolled with it.

  “Looks like he’s hungry.”

  “No!” The scholar shuffled away a few inches, trying to swim in the dirt. “You can’t hurt me, I’m neutral!”

  “Oh, right. I’m really getting a neutral vibe from you helping out in Redding’s war camp and trying to run off with Egerton. I doubt your fellows would approve.”

  The scholar rolled over, his eyes on Murray. “You wouldn’t.”

  He laughed. “I’m on a first name basis with several of them. Of course, they were smart enough to just ask inane questions and take notes. You’re out here influencing things. Changing stuff. For shame. Tsk tsk.”

  Egerton’s teeth ground. “Let me go! Hungry. Eat!”

  Murray pushed the skull closer to the scholar, then feigned having to restrain him. “Whoa there, hold on. We need information. At least start with his legs. He doesn’t need those to talk.”

  The scholar curled up, his legs hidden under his robes. “I don’t know where the other parts are, I just wanted the skull. It’s the only bit that could talk. The only one that matters to history.”

  Murray sneered… as best he could. “So, not only a prisoner for eternity, but you planned to make his skull into a pet?” He shook his head. “And they call me a monster. At least I come by it honest. You make me sick.”

  “Eat.” Egerton’s eyes had grown wide, his jaw snapping at the scholar. “Eat!”

  “Redding!” The scholar practically cried. “He wanted to lock you both up, keep you from helping the Dark Lord. This was his plan, not mine! Leave me be!”

  Murray squinted as he looked around the camp. Redding would be at the most pompous tent. Or, at least his things would be. Right now his things included Egerton. “Alright, you’re coming with me, Rainbow man.”

  “I… would rather not?”

  “Well, you’re going to help me find the other boxes, and in return I am going to keep those other skeletons that have broken your line and scattered your forces from adding a lot more red to your robe. Or, and I like this one, I can not do the protecting you part and I’ll put him down the front of your shirt.” Murry held up Egerton’s skull.

  The scholar blinked at the skull, jaws snapping over and over. “I have decided to accompany you.”

  “Look at you being smart, I knew you had it in you.” He waved his sword. “Get moving.”

  The scholar climbed to his feet, whimpering all the while. He marched toward the larger tents, shying away from fighting with high pitched whines.

  Murray lifted Egerton’s skull and spoke quietly. “You sane?”

  “Barely. If you had found another piece first… how long was I in there?”

  “I dunno, fifteen, twenty minutes? Don’t think about it. I’ve been knocked apart before, I could feel the bits. Are we close?”

  “It felt… much longer. We’re close enough I can’t give any specifics. I can move my arms, my legs. I can feel them. Restrained. Hate these people. Hate them all!” His voice rose to a yell.

  “Yeah, okay, calm down. We’re working on it.”

  “Hmph.” Egerton’s eyes shrank and he sighed. “They ruined my coat.”

  “Well then take his.”

  “What? No. It’s hideous. I mean, stripes, really? Looks like a circus tent.”

  “No… no. It’s… pretty?”

  “You are a terrible liar. You’re trying to make me look silly.”

  “I kinda am, yeah.”

  Everything was falling apart. Cecil slumped, resting his chin on his hand, his elbow propped on his knee. “Well, I guess I’ll have to start plan B soon. Maybe the next army will fight back a bit harder. I really expected Redding and Gomer could beat me. Especially since I was trying to lose…”

  Redding’s line was in shambles, skeletons had the run of his camp. They were chasing his soldiers around and starting brawls like drunken sailors on shore leave. The place was a chaotic mess.

  Meanwhile, Gomer’s people couldn’t push through what was left of the skeletons to help them. Were they really so useless without their horses? It was a symphony of erro
rs.

  Maybe none of the other Dark Lords had been bad guys either. Perhaps they had also been up against incompetents. People so used to traditional tactics they couldn’t bend a bit to fight skeletons when the time came.

  It wasn’t like they were giant or super strong or anything. They just didn’t bleed much. It wasn’t a huge advantage.

  True, there was some intimidation factor to an army of skeletons, but these were supposed to be seasoned soldiers. They should be doing a lot better. He was counting on them, damn it.

  He’d lost sight of Murray in the camp. He was there somewhere. Unless he’d been caught… Cecil glanced down at the crown. He didn’t want every random thought sending troops left and right, but it was his only means of communicating with them, too.

  Cecil lifted the crown with a sigh and gently placed it on his head.

  The field seemed… closer somehow. He could almost hear the fighting as he looked down at the battle. “Murray? Progress?”

  “Oh, sure. Now you care.”

  “My lord?” Egerton’s voice sounded… father away somehow.

  “Oh, good.” Cecil nodded, not that they could tell. “Are you well, Egerton?”

  “I have… been better.”

  Murray’s voice cut him off. “Most of him is still accruing shipping and handling charges. We’re working on it.”

  Cecil squinted down at the field. How was he winning with these people on his side? “Well, if at all possible, work faster. We’re destroying them out there.”

  “I shall endeavor to be more of a failure, boss.”

  Egerton groaned.

  “Where in the world…” Aldora’s footsteps echoed in the empty tower. She had tried down first, since it seemed the clever place to hide, but no. No Cecil.