Chasing Down Glory: The Outrider Legion: Book Two

by Christopher Pepper

  “Hello?” Kinnese called out. “Is anyone home? Undis?”

  They listened for a moment in silence, but there was no response. No sound of any kind greeted them. Only oppressive heat and equally oppressive stench.

  “Perhaps he isn't here,” Naria whispered. “I could try and-”

  “No,” Kinnese interjected softly, a hand upraised as he stepped gingerly into the house. “Don't use any magic here, not yet. By my report Undis is a little...off. He may have some unpleasant wards in place in case any wizard or hedge mage came calling unannounced.”

  “Then why am I here, wallowing in this shit with you?” Naria not-quite-snarled as she followed him into the house.

  “Because I enjoy have a pretty lady on my arm accompanying me to such exotic locations, of course.” His smile faded rapidly as he saw her scowl. “Er, honestly for two reasons. One, obviously is for backup in case he is...unfriendly. And secondly because I'd like your opinion of what we see here. As I've mentioned before, you're rather more informed than I on some facets of the Planes than I. Wouldn't you want to know what caused all of this?” He gestured around at what was once a living room. Luminescent green mold claimed what appeared to be two wooden chairs, splotches of dark brown mixed with faintly glowing green mold. The floorboards themselves were soft under their feet, with each step forcing rank water (Kinnese hoped it was just water) to gush from the soaked and rotted wood. The sickly sweet smell from outside the house had been overpowered by a horrible stench that nagged at Kinnese, but he couldn't name it. Naria seemed to notice the change also.

  “There are, or at least were, people here,” she said sadly. “Smells like a plague ward, on the bad side of the clock.” Though he couldn't see her, Kinnese could tell her scowl had deepened by the change in her voice. It took on a quiet tone. Dangerous. “Just what exactly was this man dabbling in?” Ignoring her question, Kinnese walked delicately through the house, breathing shallowly and touching nothing. After a few moments, he found what he had been looking for. A hatch built into the floor of what must have once been a kitchen.

  “Gods,” Naria muttered, looking at a misshapen pile of decayed utensils, “even the metal here is corroded.”

  Bracing himself for another flood of stench, Kinnese opened the hatchway. A narrow stone stairway led down into the cellar. The first two stone steps looked slick with moss and condensation. He was about to take the first step when a thin, gurgling voice called up from below.

  “Please, come on down. Do be careful on the stairs. I so rarely get visitors, trespassers or otherwise.”

  Kinnese and Naria exchanged a look that was both confusion and apprehension before venturing down into the cellar. The soft glow of lantern and candle light greeted them at the bottom of the stairs. The cellar had a high ceiling with a hard packed dirt floor. Stone work benches lined the walls covered with even more apparatus than in Naria's old room. It took a moment for them to realize that the air was fresh and dry, and the cellar as a whole was extremely tidy. As Kinnese's eyes adjusted to the change in light, he saw a number of vents placed in the ceiling with intricate runes carved into them. Whatever experimentation occurred down there, the vents apparently kept the results from lingering. A robed and hooded figure stood stooped over a bench on the far side of the cellar. Kinnese could just make out a large tome opened on the bench. The robe was covered in dark stains, as was the hood. Some of the stains glistened in the gentle light. What was it about mages and their beloved robe and hood combo?

  “You are Undis, I take it?” Kinnese asked.

  The figure trembled slightly, a wet gurgling sound barely audible. “It would seem common courtesy isn't what it used to be. Yes, I am Undis. How may I help you, sir...?” Undis's voice was weak and high pitched, but there was a wet sound to it, as if he had fluid in his throat like a sufferer of Fisherman's Malaise.

  “My apologies,” Kinnese said quickly, bowing slightly. “My name is Jurgund Kinnese. And this is Mistress Naria. I am here on behalf of an interested party hoping to entice you to come out of your...early retirement.”

  Undis's body seemed to tremble again, and again the gurgling sound was apparent. “'Early retirement'. A wonderful description, if only a tad misleading.” He stopped speaking and he turned a page on the book. He was silent for a moment before continuing. “I'd offer you some refreshment, however,” Undis gestured a thin arm around the room as he continued his reading, “you may have noticed the condition of my kitchen above. I'm afraid to even offer you a seat, but the benches here are rather rotted.” Undis went quiet again, reading his tome.

  Kinnese cleared his throat slightly. He still had the stench of the house upstairs in his nose. “My employer is aware of your...ah...condition, and he-”

  He was interrupted when Undis raised a finger, a wet, snapping sound coming from the man.

  “Now now, if you're here, you're here for a reason, so let us be plain and not tip toe around things, yes?” Undis turned to face them, and upon seeing his face, Kinnese felt his stomach rebel, and he took an involuntary step backwards. Naria did the same, a small cry escaping her lips before she could cover her mouth with a gloved hand.

  Undis's face was in tatters. Chunks of flesh were missing from his cheeks and forehead, and what skin remained was a sallow yellow-green. His left eye was a chalky white in color, and his right one was gone, with only the empty socket visible, congealed blood lining its interior. His teeth, most of them a rotted brown, were in various states of falling out but for two perfectly white ones in the front. As he spoke, flecks of blood and yellow fluid trailed down the sides of his mouth. Undis's body shuddered again. “Ah, apologies. The state of my visage has been...erratic of late,” he said, his voice calm and pleasant, as if they were discussing types of wine. “I trust you can understand.”

  Naria spoke up before Kinnese could. “What...what happened to you? I've never seen anyone survive such necrosis before?”

  “It’s quite severe, isn’t it?” Undis said, a ruined approximation of a smile on his ghoulish face. “To answer your question, I survive because I am immortal, of course. I believe my current classification is a “lich”,” Undis said, gesturing to himself. Undis's hands, Kinnese noticed, were rotting as well. Yellowing bone was visible almost as much as flesh. “Half-lich, perhaps would be more appropriate,” he added, his voice a touch thoughtful. “I have not yet found a suitable classification that meets with my approval.”

  Naria gasped again, and Kinnese could feel her drawing Power into herself. He placed a warning hand on her shoulder.

  “No no, it is an understandable reaction,” Undis said, his voice conciliatory. “My, I've almost lost track of the ways people tried to destroy me in the past. Cataloging their various methods and recording the results have become an almost enjoyable little hobby, if a little on the uncomfortable side for me.” Kinnese had to divert Naria before she ruined things. Her hostility was palpable.

  “Naria, how could this have happened to him? You're the mage here, just what had to have gone wrong?”

  Naria glared at Kinnese, her blue eyes boring into him. “Things first went wrong,” she snapped, “when this monster decided to become a lich.” She turned her gaze to Undis. “How many people did you murder to fill your vials of blood? And where did you get the components for the ritual?” Undis said nothing, merely gesturing a decaying arm for her to continue. “Blood is needed,” she continued, now walking alongside the stone benches. “The intent in which the blood is taken is also important. It can't be accidental, I mean. After a number of rituals and other...procedures, the prospective lich needs to crystallize the blood he's taken into what is called a bloodstone. Then when the rituals are complete, the bloodstone focuses the lich's power and binds their soul to it, rendering them basically immortal. The flesh will slowly wither after completion of the ceremony, but it the soul will remain housed in bones so long that the bloodstone exists. The skeleton that remains is usually strengthened in the ritual.”

&
nbsp; “That is a rather succinct description, yes,” Undis nodded.

  “Be that as it may,” Kinnese said, “my master would like to offer-”

  “No. Absolutely not,” Naria snapped suddenly.

  Kinnese turned towards her, expecting this. “'No' what?” he asked, already knowing her answer.

  “I will not work with anyone that would even think to sponsor this...monster.”

  “Believe me, I know,” Kinnese said, “but when I say-”

  “No, you obviously don't know,” Naria spat, “or else you wouldn't even be here. If you even had an inkling of the depravity and vile depths someone would have to go through to forsake their own mortality at the expense of dozens of others, you'd know that-”

  “Don't presume to know anything about me,” Undis said suddenly, a soft strength underneath his gurgling voice.

  Naria rounded on the lich, and Kinnese could feel the buildup of magic within her. Things could get messy extremely quickly, he realized.

  “I know enough, if you've fallen so far,” she hissed.

  “If you wish to consider me a monster, well I can't truly argue with you now. But my motivations are another matter. I committed no murder, no betrayals, to be reduced to this...state.”

  “You lie,” Naria said, fists clenched.

  “No, I don't,” Undis wheezed. His voice grew shriller and weaker as he spoke, and Kinnese suspected the lich wasn't used to speaking this much anymore. “This was a grand alchemical experiment, not mere slaughter for some dark, sinister purpose.”

  “Please, explain then,” Kinnese said, trying to buy some time to defuse the situation before Naria exploded.

  “I was the court alchemist for the Prince of Vezir,” Undis said, much of the strength gone from his voice. “The Prince was rather...simple, but his coin funded a lot of my work. I was able to pay apprentices, and had set up a few clinics throughout the city. Every now and then, though, the Prince would ask for something foolhardy, and I would comply to satisfy my contract.”

  “Foolhardy how?” Kinnese asked.

  “Oh, storybook fantasies usually. A love potion here, a youth serum there, typical rustic fare. So I would formulate his aphrodisiacs and steroidal medicine to let him think he was getting what he wanted. His wants and needs did not matter so long as he let me keep doing my work.”

  “Which was what, exactly?” Naria sneered.

  “Have either of you been to Vezir?” Undis asked. “Well I'll tell you,” he said, not giving anyone time to respond, “it was nicknamed the latrine of the gods, and I can find no more apt metaphor. There are ancient bogs dotting the kingdom, each swarming with mosquitoes, phasmids, black flies, and other assorted insects brimming with diseases. The bogs also cover leylines, so all sorts of rare and valuable plants grow there, in addition to the odd mutation in the animal and insect population. The combination of greed, desperation, and disease make for one sick populace. Aside from my interests in the mutated creatures, I was there to help stem the tide of diseases and develop vaccines and cures.”

  “How the hells do you go from working on cures to...to this?” Naria blurted out.

  “After a particularly virulent strain of the Sallow Shackles broke out, I discovered a collection of old, tattered grimoires in the house of some conjuror who had succumbed. Turns out he was the cause of one of the plagues. I read through his books, hoping to find insight into the disease, and the ritual to transform into a lich was in there, but I didn't pay it much mind at first. I had enough to occupy my mind without wasting time on some dubious methodology. No sooner had I contained the Sallow Shackles, the Cult of the Flayer sprung up in the city. Those gentlemen were dead set on spreading enough disease and plague through the country to topple it. Something to do with summoning their god or deity through extermination. They came quite close to succeeding, as well. Four thousand dead, three times that infected and barely hanging on that first month alone.” Undis was silent for a moment, then turned and spit upwards, ending a shower of black phlegm, blood, and teeth into one of the ceiling vents, sucking it up and shooting it out of the cellar. “Apologies. That's when the lich ritual became suddenly appealing.”

  “How?” Kinnese asked.

  “Being undead would provide some desirable effects, you must concede,” Undis said, his voice less wet sounding than a moment ago. “Immunity to disease and sickness, was what truly caught my eye. If successful with the ritual, I would also gain some kind of magical powers, yet another tool to use in my work. And I was quite determined to halt the myriad of plagues those novice savages had unleashed. Half of my apprentices were dead, and the others wouldn't last much longer. Whenever I'd create an effective vaccine to inoculate us, the Flayers would magically alter the strain and I'd have to start over. All the while waiting for the day when a crack in my chemical and magical safeguards would appear and I'd become infected myself. So I opened the book and read the instructions. They were, sadly, quite detailed and easy to follow.”

  “You're a heartless monster,” Naria exclaimed. “Your duty was to save those people, not slaughter them for your own gain!”

  “In my defense,” Undis said, raising one rotted hand, “I am no doctor. More an…amateur practitioner. I've taken no oaths to bind me to some half-blind doctrine of ethics. I swore no fealty to any divine school of healing. I was, I am, a man of science, determined to stop an outbreak. I used what means I had at my disposal to do my job, no more no less. If the ritual succeeded, I could wade into infection hot zones, install air-based remedies to slow or prevent aerial transmission. I could interact with those in later stages of certain plagues and sicknesses, see the rates of...well, that's all academic now. The ritual did not succeed.”

  “It looks like it did from here,” Kinnese said. “Even if only partially.”

  “I am no savage,” Undis spat, his voice wheezy. “I would not murder people just for personal gratification. However, the cold arithmetic of the situation became apparent. Could I weigh the lives of seven or eight people against an entire country? Yes, without a doubt. If I had to bathe in their entrails before their families, I would. But I did not have to stoop to that level, though perhaps I should have. You see, I had willing people who would provide blood for me to take.”

  “Oh gods,” Naria gasped. “You killed plague victims for the ritual. No wonder the whole thing fell apart.”

  “Indeed,” Undis nodded, a touch of regret entering his voice. “Hence the failure of the ritual. Just the smallest amount of empathy, a hint of compassion, had repercussions I wasn't aware of. At the time it seemed like I was doing no wrong, euthanizing them the way I did. They even gave me their blessing. And that's probably wrecked the whole endeavor. The girl is right, you see,” Undis said, turning towards Kinnese. “Intent is an integral part of the ritual, which I learned later. I short-changed it in my hurry to protect my own morals. So the ritual was an incomplete disaster, and now, sadly, so am I. The Prince ordered me executed for being some monstrous butcher, if you can believe it. Saying that I was the hidden leader of the Flayer Cult all along. And the Flayer Cult wanted me dead because I had been so effective at stopping them. Yet despite a few brutal, creative measures taken to destroy me, I survived. Though they couldn't kill me, it was still extraordinarily painful and uncomfortable, so I fled, and found myself here, where I'm trying to undo the faulty components of the ritual that sustains me.”

  “What happened to Vezir?” Naria asked.

  “Who can say?” Undis shrugged. “Perhaps the Prince found effective replacements for me. Perhaps he didn't, and the entire city is one grand charnel house now. There has been no sudden arrival of a Plague God, no world-shattering cataclysms, so I assume the Flayer Cult failed. Regardless, it does not hold my interest any longer.” Undis looked down at his body and made an exasperated sound, a wet clicking sound. “As you can see, my fleshy body is decaying away. But some part of the ritual causes it to regenerate as well.” The lich took a deep breath, and his rotten face bec
ame more animated as he wound himself up. “And it isn't an equal ratio of decay to regrowth. Nor is it even consistent. Some days I regenerate faster than the gods themselves, and look almost like my old self. Other days I literally fall to pieces. And I feel it, all of it, even when I'm regenerating. Every piece of my being, being torn apart or knitted back together. These teeth are my third set this year. They will rot and fall out, and then I grow new ones but they rot as they grow. It's...maddening. I can still channel the magic that the ritual imbued me with, but I feel it forming and coalescing within me, and oh how it it burns! It burns so hot I can't focus enough to use it properly. Fifteen years ago I tried to immolate myself, and I survived. So I hired two small-time mages, and they blew me to bits. Twenty minutes after they left with my money and my more expensive laboratory equipment I was up and about.”

  “Then why haven't you smashed your bloodstone?” Naria asked, her voice cold and flat.

  Undis raised a greenish black hand to his head in mock exultation. “Epiphany! I knew all I needed was another set of eyes to tell me such a thing!” The scorn faded, and for an instant, Undis's voice and features became pained and frustrated as he glared at the bloodstone. “I tried that already, after another episode involving an assassin and some acid. After disposing of my would-be killer, in a rage I shattered my bloodstone. For an instant I could feel its hold over me vanish. Seizing this one happy opportunity, I killed myself. I awoke two days later in pure agony, because not only did I get to feel the pain wracking my body as it knitted itself back together and rotted apart again, my very essence was being shredded by the feeling of the bloodstone regenerating itself. Even the one thing that is supposed to be my weakness is immutable.” He sighed then, a wheezing, hollow sound before looking back at Naria and Kinnese, his earlier bile and anger back on his face. “So you tell me your employer is aware of all of this, and he wants to employ me?” Undis sighed. “Just what is it you want from me?”