by M B Reid
“Right, now that I’ve got your attention. The Hunters have invoked their rights to conscript this man into service” The old man jabbed a figure in Azoth’s direction as he spoke.
That was a mistake.
There was a collective intake of breath as the nobles finally saw what was under their noses. A high pitched womanly scream escaped one man.
“That’s a zombie -”
“Undead!”
“Oh my -”
“SILENCE” The old man bellowed. The crowd was blanketed by a hush once more.
“Yes, he’s undead. He’s also being pressed into service. Unchain him.”
“You’ll do no such thing” The mayor retorted, taking a tentative step forward. He was careful to manoeuvre himself such that a particularly large guard stood directly between him and Azoth. Duncan, holding the key in one hand, looked backwards and forwards between the old man and the mayor. His Adam's apple bobbed as he gulped.
“No undead creature will leave here alive” The mayor announced, as though he were giving a speech to his voters. Perhaps he was.
“This man will be coming with us.” The old man repeated, with a tone that reminded everyone he had said this before.
“My word is law in this city! And I sentence this abomination to death.”
“Sir -” Duncan began, then thought better of it. He pressed his thin lips together.
“The laws of the Hunters are -”
“An old folly. We live in more enlightened times, there’s no need to -” The mayor jumped as someone in the crowd coughed. His face rapidly paled as he remembered where he was. It seemed the rumours of a plague hadn’t been exaggerated.
“Sir, if I may? I believe Miss Voria once accused -”
“Yes! She accused the undead creature of murdering -”
“Hmm, um. Door… Dory” Duncan supplied.
“Yes, she accused an undead of murdering Mr Dory. This must -”
“I. Don’t. Care.” The old man announced, with an icy edge to his voice. The mayor came to a stammering halt.
When he was certain his opponent had nothing more to say, the old man started to talk again.
“The laws of the Hunters allow us to conscript any able bodied man or woman into service in a time of need. We are conscripting this man.” He snatched the key out of Duncan’s limp grasp and approached Azoth. Trent stepped in beside him. He had unlimbered his glaive and was leaning on it like a walking stick. It wasn’t an overtly threatening move, but it was enough to make the guards nearest him reconsider their actions.
“That’s not a man” Duncan spat, regathering his wits. He made to snatch for the old man’s hand, but stopped when he saw the stern look Trent was giving him. One handcuff sprang open, releasing Azoth’s wrist. The old man handed him the key to unlock the second manacle.
“Hang on. If you’re hunters, why didn’t you announce yourself when you came to town.” The mayor suddenly demanded. Azoth was too busy freeing himself to notice the look of surprise that flickered across Trent’s face. The old man drew himself up to his full height and threw back his hood.
“I, Theodore Trentworth, Hunter of unseen beasts, declare my presence in your city. I am here in service to the guild of Hunters. I take no part in war nor justice, expect no coin as payment, and pledge no allegiances. My business will be conducted with the utmost care and minimal disruption to the lives and livelihood of your citizens.” He announced, his arms formed a cross in front of his chest. Then he let them fall to his side and smirked at the mayor.
“Better?”
The mayor glanced around at the handful of nobles that had followed him here, as if they would offer some sort of support.
“Very well, you may conscript that thing. But I won’t permit it in my city -”
Azoth sprang to his feet, the chains clattering to the ground. The nobles recoiled in horror as he stretched his neck.
“We will be going as soon as his effects are returned.” The old man, apparently named Theodore, agreed.
The mayor gestured to Duncan. Duncan gestured to a nameless guard. The guard gathered up Azoth’s belongings and pressed them into his outstretched hands. Everyone watched each other for a long awkward moment, as if a brawl were about to break out. Finally, Duncan lowered his gaze.
“I thank you for your cooperation.” The old man intoned. He bowed slightly to the mayor, then started to lead the way toward the river gate. Azoth fell into step close behind him. Now that he was no longer a captive of the guards, his health bar was skyrocketing. Trent followed at the rear but no guards made no move to follow them.
A few seconds later Logan emerged from a house and joined them. They made it halfway to the gate before he stopped, holding a hand to his forehead.
“Uh, guys? We’ve got a problem.” Logan warned.
“What?” Azoth asked, looking at his friend with concern. Logan didn’t seem to be in pain, but with his face shrouded by the shadows of his hood it was hard to tell. Hell, it would have been hard to read the expression off a skull anyway.
“You okay?” He asked, coming to a halt.
Logan held up a hand for a moment, as if to silence everyone. Behind them, Azoth could see that the guards were peering intently. He didn’t want to wait around until they decided that the four of them would need to be removed from the city by force. Still, he owed it to Logan to wait him out, whatever was happening.
“They’re dead. Something killed them all.”
“What?”
“My minions. Somethings just killed them all.” Logan warned. He seemed to snap back to reality, looking around the streets.
“They just dropped off my HUD, one after the other. Like, one hit per minion.” Logan seemed to be waiting for the old man to reply. Azoth saw that the guards were starting to move in their direction. Duncan was in the middle of the mob giving orders. The nobles had already retreated back to their fancy houses.
“So there’s something down there? Not our problem right now.” Azoth announced, nodding toward the slowly approaching guards.
“There was nothing down there earlier” Trent mused. Nobody but Azoth seemed bothered by the guards walking towards them. He supposed that none of them had just been beaten within an inch of death.
“We can talk about this in your camp, right?” Azoth prompted.
“You said the amulet was stolen?” The old man asked. Azoth nodded. Maybe if he just agreed with whatever they said he’d get out of town quicker. He’d seen the hatred and fear in people's eyes. The guards wouldn’t be kind in throwing them out.
“They’d have to take it to the ritual site -” Trent said, narrowing his eyes.
“Which means they could have finished the ritual.” The old man finished.
“What does that mean?” Logan asked.
“If a ratkin managed to complete the ritual we need to stop them.” Trent said simply. Azoth got the impression this mans personality boiled down to finding the thing and killing it, on an endless loop. Perhaps not the most exciting way to live a life, but damned helpful to know. Not that any of that mattered if the guards decided to renege on their deal and murder Azoth for being undead.
“Sure, but we can do that from beyond the gates.” Azoth said. He took a few steps, expecting the others to follow. He stopped a meter away.
“We need to warn people” Logan announced, surprising Azoth. He hadn’t realised Logan gave a damn about the inhabitants of this city. Hell, Logan's worst fear had come true - Azoth had been revealed as undead, and they’d been a half step from having a pitchfork-and-torches mob forming. Why did no-one else feel the need to escape the guards?
“We need to get out of the city, before they decide they’d rather kill us.” Azoth pointed at the guards. He realised that the mob was smaller now than it had been. Duncan was still in the middle, leading from safety as was his way. But a number of guardsmen had remained at the barracks, or simply stopped in place part way through the walk. Were they doing so out of revulsi
on at his true form, or because they thought the mob had it wrong? Still, the guards outnumbered their little group by at least four to one.
“We’ve discovered something” The old man called out to the guards, his deep voice booming in the empty street. The guards murmured amongst themselves, but continued their approach.
“You need to reinforce the tunnel from the church, the city is in danger.” The old man continued.
“You’re in danger if you don’t leave now” Duncan shouted from the safety of the guards.
Azoth couldn’t agree more “Lets go”, he said.
“You don’t understand -” The old man tried again.
“This is your last chance. Leave now or you’ll be executed!” Duncan yelled.
Azoth grabbed Logan by one sleeved wrist and dragged him toward the gates. The old man and Trent stayed in place, shouting the warning once more. When the guards came within a dozen meters of them they turned and followed. Azoth led their quartet through the river gate toward the camp. He stopped on the far side of the bridge and turned to watch as the guards sealed the gate. Four men took postings atop the wall, bows at the ready. They glared down at Azoth and his friends.
The guards had locked them out. Or, perhaps more worryingly, they’d locked whatever was underground in there with them. Azoth took a deep breath, and decided that maybe it was his problem after all. Sometimes you just had to be the hero.
“Okay, what are we going to do?” He asked.
Chapter Fifteen
“For the sake of the gods, boy, sit down.” The old man growled as Azoth continued to pace in circles. The others were all sitting the campfire that now burned in the centre of the camp.
“We could be walking through the -”
“Yeah, we could be going through the tunnels. Or we could agree to shut up about that, because we’ve already decided it’s stupid” Logan interjected.
“I mean at least we’d be doing something.” Azoth moaned.
“We’re waiting. That’s something.” Trent said. He dropped another log on the fire and sat back down, seeming completely disinterested in the conversation. Azoth did one more lap of the circle.
“If it’s in the town -”
“They’ve got guards. I can count four from here.” The old man joked. Nobody laughed.
“So what are we waiting for?” Azoth asked, finally sitting down in exasperation. He stared at the two hunters, expecting them to be the ones to come up with the plan. He certainly didn’t have anything.
“Dark for one thing.” The old man replied.
“So what, we sneak in?”
“Over. The wall isn’t tall, and those guards aren’t bright. They’ll light torches when night comes, and they won’t be able to see anything beyond them.”
Azoth realised the old man was right. A few of them working together could scale the walls. Hell, Azoth had scaled the walls once already, and he’d only had one person to help him. Admittedly that had been going the other way. And there hadn’t been any guards wanting to kill him.
“So your great plan is to sneak in during the night, and then what?” Azoth was instantly ashamed of the whining tone in his voice but no one else seemed to notice.
“We hunt the creature, kill it, and then ride off into the sunset. Well, you know, daybreak I guess.” Logan mumbled. Azoth’s jaw almost hit his feet. Logan had never shown an interest in getting into an unnecessary fight. Especially not one against something that could murder each of his minions in a single strike. Azoth found himself wondering when he’d become the coward out of the two of them. He wasn’t worried about fighting the creature, but the combined might of the guards terrified him. Even under Duncan’s worthless leadership.
“And what happens when the guards kill us for helping it?” Azoth asked.
“That leader of theirs seems the type.” Trent agreed.
“Aye, but that’s one man. Not the guard. You saw how their numbers fell when they ran us out of town. We’ve got a proper hero on our side, those men will follow him.” The old man nodded toward Azoth.
“They were going to kill me!” Azoth exclaimed.
“A few, aye. But a few weren’t having a bar of it, and the rest could be swayed. If they see the monster, and they see us fighting it, they’ll help us. I’d stake my life on it.”
“You are. Ours too” Azoth grumbled, but he didn’t protest. The old man did have a point. Some of the guards would help them fight whatever they were facing, regardless of Duncan’s orders. Azoth wasn’t sure whether it would be enough, but it was the best plan that they had.
“Okay. So we’re going to save Whiteridge. Again. What kind of gear do you guys have?” Azoth asked, looking purposefully toward the cart loaded with crates nearby.
“The trader thing was a ruse, so one has to wonder what the infamous hunters were really carrying.” He continued as he got to his feet.
“Unless you’ve got the coin to pay, we aren’t carrying anything” Trent growled.
“Oh, come on. We’re going into battle and you’re holding out on us?”
“Dude, not cool” Logan added.
“Enough. We’re not running a charity here. But your payment doesn’t have to be coin.” The old man stood up, suddenly towering over them all.
“If I arm you now, I want your word that you’ll come with us when this work is done. At least three hunts worth of service, plus travel work.” He extended a hand toward Azoth.
“Do we have a deal?”
Azoth glanced between the outstretched hand and his seated friend, weighing his options. Any gear they could get now would make the upcoming fight a lot more palatable. Besides, Whiteridge had turned on him. He wouldn’t be able to stay here even if he saved the city again tonight. Azoth waited a few moments longer, in case Logan was going to object. After all they could still return to the dungeon, even if they’d be living under constant threat of a pitchfork mob. When his friend remained silent, Azoth shook the old man’s hand.
“We’ve got nowhere better to be” Logan chirped from the ground. Clearly he’d changed his mind on the whole ‘hide out until this all blows over’ thing. Azoth smiled. With Logan back on board they’d be unstoppable.
“It doesn’t fit right” Azoth moaned.
“A bit tight.” Logan agreed.
“You’ll get used to it. Now ditch the hood” The old man ordered.
“But -”
“They already know you’re dead, boy. No need to block off your vision now.” The old man snatched the cloak out of Azoth’s hands.
“Now, do a lap of the camp. If we need to make adjustments we want to find out now.” He added.
Azoth looked down at the tight-fitting leather armour that covered him from shoulders to boots. It was stained black, even the reinforcing rings of steel had been tarnished with soot so they wouldn’t reflect the firelight. And it was tight. He felt like he was wearing a stiff leotard, and was certain he’d be blushing if his heart still beat. He took off at a gentle jog. The matching boots he’d been given made almost no sound as he started to jog.
By the time he’d completed his lap of the camp, Azoth felt at home in the new armour. It was almost as if the thick leather had stretched to conform to his body as he’d moved. It now fit like a glove, a masterwork that no simple tailor could have managed. More importantly, at least to Azoth, he now felt like a bad-ass rather than a dancer. He made his way back to the caravan, where the old man was outfitting Logan in a fresh set of loose-fitting robes. As he walked he inspected the armour:
DarkLeather Armour
Level 5 Armour Set
Passive ability: Reduced noise at night.
Skill: Mana Shield: Upon activation incoming damage will be deducted from the wearers mana pool instead of their health.
“Looking better.” Trent nodded toward Azoth. He was sitting on the edge of the caravan fiddling with a cigarette.
“Feeling it” Azoth replied. He picked up the belt and scabbard holding his enchant
ed scimitar and buckled it around his waist. He strapped his shield back onto his arm, and checked that all the charms were still intact. He’d already affixed the Tentacle Whip charm to his new armour. The charms for Chameleon Cloak and Bull Horns were still attached to his shield and scabbard. All things considered, he felt ready to wade into battle.
“You’re not gonna hide your ugly mug?” Trent jeered as Azoth finished preparing himself.
“Na, I’m letting the freak flag fly.” Azoth grinned. Perhaps it was time to accept his true self.
“One hell of a freak” Logan added, stepping away from the old man and his chest of goods. Logan’s new robes seemed to shimmer in the firelight, as if there were some sort of metal woven into the fabric. It was certainly beyond the craftsmanship of reality.
“So what do they do?” Azoth asked.
“Decent defencive bonus, and a passive buff to mana regen.” Logan replied, tugging at a sleeve.
“It’s damn comfy too. Like wearing a cloud” He smiled.
“You’re gonna show your skull?”
“Yeah, why not. We can be the undead heroes of a city that hates us.” Logan said. Azoth couldn’t help but giggle in surprise. Whatever had happened, his terrified ‘lets just stay in the dungeon’ friend had completely changed his personality. He had a sudden flash of hope, the feeling that he and Logan could take on anything.
“So now what?” Azoth asked the old man.
“You boys are dressed for the prom. Now we just wait until dark.”
Chapter Sixteen
The Bearer was remade.
He rolled his shoulders and marvelled at the strength they now held. His fingers, previously cracked and bleeding, danced over the armour that had coalesced around his body. His magic pulsed outward from the glowing orange gemstone in his hand, painting the walls of the cavern into his mind. He saw, though it was impossibly dark, the sheets of chitinous black armour. The gold trim around each plate. His sickle-bladed daggers flashed in the mental image.
