I tried keeping track of where was going while creeping along at a glacial pace. I was being even more careful than I was while walking through the shallow swamp after the wolf decided to just dump so many hints and ominous warnings on me. Also, expectations. Lots of expectations.

Ok, maybe I was mostly creating those expectations myself, but the stakes suddenly felt high, and I had to cope with that above all else. Even the thoughts about how I’d get back to the temple, to safety were pushed away for a time. In a way, it was doing good things for me. I had a goal I could pursue now, instead of getting bashed left and right before I even had the chance to reorient myself.

Just follow George. He’s my guide, I guess.

Unsurprisingly, following a rat around in a dark graveyard didn’t turn out to be a good idea and inevitably, I got lost. Like, proper lost. Every grave slash miniature cathedral was completely unique, which should have made navigating this maze of dead people and ash pots a lot easier, but the sheer variety had already long overwhelmed me. That combined with the extremely dim lighting confused me until I didn’t know left from right.

I arrived at a crossroads, one of many, unsure where to go.

…was the pointy one after the one with all the pillars or in front of the one with all the stone balls? The grave with the pillars was next to the one with the big gemstone, I think, but I don’t remember the gemstone being near the pointy grave and the grave with the stone balls was definitely sometime after the gemstone one and gah! Where the hell am I?

I scratched the wound on my calf with my right foot. It stung and itched, but the wyckwax was holding up remarkably well.

I should thank Harris for giving it to me when I get back. If I get back. Judging by how the day started I can expect to fall over and die any moment now.

Sigh. Walking in circles in the dark was making unwelcome thoughts pop back up again. I pushed them down like bile gathering in my throat. Not now.

I leaned against a slightly less embellished sarcophagus that had one side smashed and the lid toppled over to the side, thinking about what to do, where to go and if George was getting hungry. I sure as hells was. Sadly, there was no easy spider-buffet around. I could go for some legs, sprinkled with a bit of salt and…

Oh gods, I’m craving spider meat again. I hate it here.

“Where. To. Go. Where. To. Go.”

My voice was definitely getting better. I could say a broken sentence or two without devolving into very un-ladylike coughing. Not that I was a fine lady in any way, pretty sure no one could argue with that. My mouth was too wide, my face not the right shape, eyes too mean and even setting all those things aside, I looked like a walking corpse. Not even fine clothes or any amount of skincare on the continent could help with that.

If I soaked myself in a warm bath for hours or so, would I get more or less wrinkly? A question for the ages and sages.

Still, I tried exercising my voice by talking to myself or George every now and again. I wasn’t expecting an answer this time, or even an immediate effect. It just felt like the right thing to do, like stretching after getting out of bed in the morning. Also, it didn’t make me feel so alone in the dark.

“You should go straight.” A small, thin hand emerged from the empty space between lid and wall of the sarcophagus and pointed down the road.

I let out a short shriek and jumped to the side. Fuck me, what is it with today and being surprised by people talking to me out of nowhere? And hands jutting out of random places? I’m two for two on that already and I really, really don’t like it.

“S–s–straight. Ahead?”

“Yup.” The voice said in an almost cheerful tone. It kind of reminded me of a child. Warily, I approached the sarcophagus, looking for an inscription or a way to leverage the lid off. It was a big slab of solid stone and there was no way that I could move it even an inch.

Also yeah, judging by the carved birth- and death-date, that’s definitely a child. My condolences for having died so early. But on the plus side, apparently you too get a second chance at life! On the other hand, you have to live it out in hell.

“What’s. Left?” I asked, still unsure what to think about this unexpected situation. The child, however, seemed very casual about it. Cheerful, almost.

“Dunno.”

“What’s. Right?”

“Dunno!”

“What’s. Straight. Ahead?”

“Dunno! But I keep on hearing weird screaming noises to the left and whenever something big walks by and makes my bed shake it comes from the right and I really really think that you should hide now, like right now because I can hear the chanting again and it’s getting closer, and I think you should go now, now, now!”

Well… that was a lot to take in. Chanting? Right, the wolf said something about chanting and how I should lie down and not make a sound at all. That doesn’t make a lot of sense to me and I’m not hearing anything at all anyways so I think I can take the time to ask where I am and where I need to go.

Then again, this… child stuck in a stone box is probably not the best person to ask for directions now that I think about it. He can’t even see, how is he supposed to know there’s a fork in the road?

Well, I guess he can hear people walking on by and it is very quiet in this graveyard–huh, what’s that, George? Yes. No. Yes. Ok, we’ve got nothing to lose and better safe than dead, so I guess it’s time to hide.

I went on to the sarcophagus directly at the crossing, crouching down behind it but still trying to look over the top. There was no way I’d miss anything that did approach, even if I was still doubting that the child could hear anything I couldn’t. If it was the warden that had the wolf’s keys, then I just needed to follow it. If it was anything else, I guess I’d hide and, failing that, improvise.

Here’s to hoping I’ve used up all my bad luck for the day.

----------------------------------------

The graveyard was calm and cold. Quiet, but for my shallow breathing and the odd rustle of my chainmail against plate as I adjusted my position behind a stone sarcophagus. It was long, roughly eight feet, and on top of it lay the sculpted image of a majestic king with a beard, fully nude except for a stone blindfold draped around his eyes. The face was so gentle, so lifelike that it wouldn’t have surprised me if the sculpture had just stood up, said “mine people require me!”, and run off into the all-encompassing void.

It didn’t do that of course, no matter how hard I stared at its… nose. It was a very nice nose. Very shapely. Very kingly. Very wow.

…

I’m starting to think that the kid lied to me about something approaching. There’s nobody there! I’ve been waiting for, like… half a minute at best and still: nothing, nada, nil. No sound, no movement, no smell.

I shuffled a few feet back, to the grave with the child in it.

“Hey.” No answer.

“Hey!”

“Shhh, be quiet! They’re almost here, get your own hiding spot, now, go, quick, stop talking to me!”

“There’s. No. One. Coming.”

“Getdowngetdowngetdown!”

Yeah right. I knew it was a prank from the very beginning. I totally didn’t sit there, seeing monsters in every shadow for a minute, nope, not at all. Very funny, kid. This is why you’re in hell.

No, no, Rye, that is not a proportionate response at all. Also, why is a child in hell? Seems unusually cruel. Gods, what are the implications of that?

“Good. Joke. Ha. Ha. Now. Tell. Me. Wh–“

I think I just heard something.

I turned around, eyes flicking left and right. No fish. Good. Why would the fish be here?

No, wait, focus. Those’re voices. Humans. Many voices, in the distance. Coming closer. Closer. I can’t quite make out what they’re saying, but I can feel the sound reverberate through me. A deep rhythmic sound, familiar yet so alien.

I crawled back over to the first sarcophagus at the crossways. The people were definitely coming closer, but not at a fast pace at all. From the right.

This kid was being all sketchy and panicky for no reason, they’re way far away!

The more I listened to it, the more it sounded like a song. A deep song, not quite full of words, but full of an undercurrent of feelings. It had something clerical about it but with an undercurrent of mourning, high and guttural tones mixed within. It made me want to go forward and join them, maybe asks what’s wrong, if they needed help, if someone died?

Well, duh, I’m in a graveyard, but really, can people that can sing with so much sadness in their voices truly be all that bad? Maybe I should go and join them.

Wait, why am I thinking that? Why do I feel that way? This is really, seriously weird

The distant singing was interrupted by a clicking and dry moaning sound to my left. I turned my head, seeing nothing but darkness, the sounds coming ever closer from outside my range of vision.

Then, a foot, another leg, and the silhouette of a person staggered into my orb of dim light. He – I think they were a ‘he’ – was moving oddly. Like he was sick or carrying too much weight. His frame was very bulky, with odd bulb-like protrusions all around the body.

Muscles don’t look like that, I think.

He abruptly stopped ten feet from me and turned to look in my direction. I ducked behind the stone coffin.

I don’t want another fight, I don’t want to hurt anyone, I just want to get past unscathed and, preferably, unnoticed.

The shuffling sounds came closer. Slowly, but surely. The bulky person moaned again. It was a drained moan, sounding to me like there was no voice or energy behind it. I listened for the rattle of chainmail, but it was entirely absent.

So, this guy isn’t the warden. Boo. He probably saw me, too. Which means I’ll probably have to fight him. At least I have the sarcophagus between him and me. Maybe I can just run back to the wolf?

I’ll just get lost. Better to fight him now, get this over with. Maybe I can just not kill him. Knock him out or something. Who knows, maybe he’s friendly? What do you think, George?

Squeak.

You’re right. Only one way to find out.

I gathered my courage and peeked back over the grave again. I was met with heavy labored breathing that was way too close and what I can only describe as the second worst nightmare today.

Directly in front of me, looking over the coffin, was the face of a man, completely drained to the bone of any fluid, any blood, any anything at all. It was like looking at a skull with a thin layer of leather burnt onto it. But it wasn’t the face that horrified me.

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No, it was the roughly one dozen fattened fleas the size of my head sticking to his frankly skeletal body, adhering so closely too it that it looked like they had replaced all muscle. They were right up to my face, to the point that I could hear their bug–legs rubbing against each other, the chitter and chatter and chirping as well as the occasional sound of someone taking a small but forceful sip.

I stood wide eyed, crouched rather, and just stared at them. A thought came to me.

I literally glow. Anyone living in complete darkness would have to be completely blind to not notice me. How could I have expected to be able to hide from anything at all? The wolf’s advice was completely stupid. The boy’s advice was stupid, too!

The jaws of the man moved, like chewing on an invisible meal. The singing was getting closer, but nothing mattered more in this moment than getting the hell away from this, this creature, this puppet of parasites, this abomination.

The abomination let out a dry, high-pitched scream so loud I had to cover my ears. Something heavy dropped next to my knee, but I had no time to find out for certain if it was what I feared, as a thin and unexpectedly strong arm smashed into the stone coffin behind me and raked across my helmet. It wasn’t hard, but the impact made me feal ill again. I still hadn’t fully recovered from my last fight.

Shit. Shit, not again, shit!

I stood up, almost falling again as I ducked under a wide strike aimed at my head, then bolted. Or, rather than bolting, I ran as fast as I could. I could run fast enough, I wagered, to lose this thing somewhere in this maze of final resting places–

I glanced behind me; there were now two of them standing by the grave.

Of course! Why can’t anything ever come at me all alone? With their backs turned and eyes closed, preferably.

The singing was closer, but I had no clue what the hell that exactly was all about. People, sure, but the advice that the wolf gave me, to lie down and not move a muscle? Yeah, no, that wasn’t happening. Not while I was being chased by two abominable flea hosts. It also didn’t wake any hopes that they were any less hostile that whatever was attacking me now.

I didn’t bother looking back and jus ran, running past a few mini cathedrals, around a corner, down some stairs. Through a puddle, then over a small tear in the road and finally, after coming to a halt, I hid behind a stone coffin-cathedral that was so completely smashed it more resembled a pile of rubble surrounded by a field of clay pots.

I made myself small and tried not to huff and puff too loudly from the sudden exertion. I thought my stamina was doing better than when I was forced to run through ankle-deep swamp-sludge, but evidently, I was still not in a good shape. My panicked rush through the bog this morning and the… incident as well as the following fights had taken their toll and my armor only added to the weight weighing my body down.

It also made a lot of noise while running.

Please be deaf, please be deaf.

I peeked over the pile of rubble again, the small movement disturbing the silence way more than I was comfortable with. The sound of many voices singing was still coming closer. The closer it got, the more the feeling of wanting to join in was swapped for the feeling of not wanting to disturb whoever was brave enough to go around yelling like that in a graveyard full of horrifying creatures and murderous people.

No sign of any pursuers.

Good, I think I lost them. I just need a moment, catch my breath, then I’ll move somewhere else, anywhere else that is not here–

A quiet moan made me hold my breath.

It was a useless gesture; if the flea hosts could hear me, they could see me. And there they were, both figures stepping over the edge of my twelve–foot light. They weren’t breathing much, unlike me. In fact, the way they were just leisurely staggering over didn’t betray any sign of them having run after me at all. But they did, they would have had to, they wouldn’t have caught up to me otherwise.

If these things don’t get tired like I do, then I’m royally screwed.

I got up and the moment I did, both figures went from a clipped walk to a considerably faster jerking jog. I ran, again, this time until I was sure I’d lost them. When the sound of songs and the steps of my pursuers disappeared into the distance, I stopped and hid around the side of a steep stone staircase behind some urns.

It didn’t take even half a minute until I could hear the sounds of bare feet tap–tap–tapping on wet cut stone and mud. I was huffing and puffing, feeling my heart tearing itself apart to an unsteady rhythm.

This isn’t fair! I can’t run, I’m not fast enough, I don’t know where I’m going and I’m tired. I can’t hide, because I sound like a heap of falling tin cans and it’s so loud, I don’t know where George is and they can hear me from leagues away, and they can see me because I’m a godsdamn beacon to things that want to kill me!

Wait. I don’t know where George is. No, nonono. I have to find him.

I staggered to my feet, determined to not let it end like this. My eyes flicked left and right.

I can fight them. Maybe win even. I have to try. No bridge though. They can surround me. They’re strong, they don’t tire.

Are they fast? No idea. They can keep up with me running. Are they human? They look like one. But no one survives their bodyweight in flees sucking them dry like that. They’re just a puppet. Just a monster. It’ll be a mercy.

I have to attack first. Take one down quickly, then the other. Left or right?

Left. Closer. No time.

I stepped forward, shield at the ready, heart beating in my ears, breathing unsteady as I charged from around the stairway.

A horizontal swipe came at me.

Long arms. Thin. I should be able to block them.

I looked back up, just in time to see a much faster swing come from my right. Like the one before, it was aimed straight at my head. Except this time, I put my shield between it and me.

That was a mistake. The swing connected on the bulge of my shield, and it was heavy. It didn’t stop, merely deflected slightly as the force traveled through it, twisting it in my hand. I felt more than heard a sharp grinding sound and a then a pop.

The pain hit me right as the rest of the swing did. It was a hot white feeling, like someone was pulling on the inside of my finger with a hot pair of metal tongs. The backhand slap to my head felt comparatively mild, even if it made it snap around and my teeth grind against each other. I could taste blood.

“Ga– “A third swing from above. It hit my pauldron, skidding off but not before pushing me to one knee.

Pain. It hurts. Run.

Runrunrun.

I lunged forward, the sound of air whooshing past my head the only indication that I wasn’t hit a fourth time.

I can’t think straight, it hurts, dammit, forward, I have to run, it hurts, where’s the other one–

Something cracked against the back part of my chest plate, launching me forward as I stumbled, nearly falling completely to the ground.

How are they this stupidly strong? They’re just puppets of skin, fleas, and bones, dammit, dammit, dammit!

I ran past, another glancing hit on my right arm. I ran and ran, back to where I came from, roughly. I couldn’t fight them; it was like a child with a table knife fighting an adult and there was nothing in the world that I hated more than feeling like a helpless child. If I couldn’t even help myself, then…

Enough! Run, just run. The tapping of their feet is getting further away. I can’t outrun them. I’m loud, I glow, dammit, I don’t want to die. Where’s George, I have to keep an eye out. He fell off, somewhere along the way, where is he...

I desperately grasped my shield even through the blinding white pain in my thumb, as if not letting it go would mean I could somehow still pull myself back together again.

Think, think. What can I do? I can’t fight two on one; I can’t even fight them one on one. I’m all alone, I can’t–

The singing was back again. Rather, I had somehow gone in a circle and was running to where I had come from.

I kept on moving forward, past the round sarcophagus, past the one with the child in it and then at the crossroads, I picked right.

“Help! Help!” I yelled, my voice straining under wheezing breaths.

I was close now, the sound of the song coming from directly in front. It was still deep, and I could feel it probe my insides, invading my heart, making me feel like a small and insignificant part of something else. It was like I was suddenly submerged under water and despite most definitely still being chased, I came to a complete halt, unable to move an inch.

There was a complete darkness all around. It felt like more than before, although that was a stupid thing to think. It couldn’t get darker than pitch black. Yet in that darkness, I saw a lantern at the end of a long stick. It threw light onto nothing except itself, swaying way above my head.

Closer, closer, it came ever so slowly and finally, I saw it was an ornate glass filled with small glowing bugs. Whoever was holding it stopped well outside of my vision, not allowing me even a single glimpse.

Please be friendly! Please, oh please oh please oh pl…

Out of the dark, there came a man. A figure, clad entirely in fine chainmail under torn and faded clothing, metal, and cloth both frayed at the arms and below the hips where they hung only in tatters. On his head he wore a helmet, a long cone shape that made him easily a whole head taller. Another layer of mail was hanging from it, covering the face entirely. Even if it hadn’t been for the blindfold around his eyes, I sincerely doubted I could match him in a fight at all.

A sword was drawn. A proper, honest to the god’s sword. It was long, not as long as mine previously had been, but similarly wide. It gleamed slightly from the dim light I illuminated it with.

“H-help?”

The singing stopped abruptly, and the man lunged at me. I turned around and ran, even as I felt the tip scratch against the back of my chestplate.

Not friendly! Not friendly! Fuck, why, why, why?

I ran around the corner, only, the almost run face-first into a low swing from one of the flea hosts. I threw myself to the side, hitting the corner of a stone grave. It knocked the air out of me as I flew against it, then toppled entirely over, struggling to crawl away from the road or even breathe.

FUCK. Knee. High. objects.

A roar echoed throughout the graveyard, guttural and hoarse. I curled up into a ball, hoping that somehow, by some miracle, they’d both overlook the obviously glowing person pitifully hiding for her small, insignificant life between some rocks.

That’s me! Feel free to overlook me, I’m just a worm, minding my wormy business.

Another roar and a clang. Then a horrible screech and the sound of metal gliding into, then out of a body. I peeked around my side and what I saw baffled me.

The single swordsman was fighting not one, but both of the flea hosts. And by the looks of it, he was winning.

One creature staggered backwards, clutching its stomach while the other launched into a flurry of wild, uncoordinated flailing swings. Every one of those hit as hard as a hammer and I was reminded by a sharp pain in my right thumb that I probably shouldn’t be leaning on it right this moment. I turned away from the fight just as the swordsman was pushed back out of my vision.

Ow, ow, ow, I–I need to just, just pull it. A quick tug. Please let it be over with just a quick tug.

I went to grab my finger and noticed a head-shaped form move out of the corner of my eye. It jumped me, right on my fucking face. Something hard pierced and drilled into my skin, right above my left eye and half a dozen spiky legs immediately went to work digging into my check, mouth and everything else on my face.

No, nonono, not this shit again!

I screamed, letting go of my shield and trying to pull it off me. A leg entered my mouth and hooked itself to the inside of my cheek.

Fuu–ah, no, bad idea, barbs, stings, face, skin.

The sound of slurping and a sudden coldness in my forehead only helped to further increase my distress. I took my sword and tried stabbing the stupid massive flea under its belly. The tip slipped off, unable to penetrate its shell as I tried to avoid poking my own eyes out.

I did it again.

It slipped once more, and I was in full panic mode, switching to frantically whacking it with my pommel. It tore deeper into my skin and muscle as the sounds of cracking were followed by the sharp pain all around my face after every. Single. Hit. It was all could feel for a few agonizing moments, until it finally slipped off on its own. Instantly, blood began trickling in a steady stream from the wound above my eye, straight into it.

I shut it, but not before noticing something twitch on the ground.

The little bloodsucker is still moving! Die you stupid, stupid bug!

I tried stabbing it again, but my blade slipped off, again. Another scream followed by gurgling filled the air. I decided on taking my shield pinning it to the ground, crushing it with my entire weight. I just hoped it would be enough. Even with armor, I wasn’t very heavy.

Is the other fight going well? Actually, who the hell am I even rooting for, both of them want me dead!

I turned around, just to see the second flea host stagger back, making loud and wet gurgling sounds. There were three swords sticking out through its back, with three similarly clothed and armored cone-hats attached to them. They pulled out as one, the middle one finishing it off with a strike that decapitated the abomination fully. The body fell and the fleas scattered in every direction.

The cone-hats didn’t care, only moving to the next one. It had barely recovered from being stabbed through the gut – not that I was expecting it to, you know, recover from a lethal stab wound just like that – and with three hacks they took an arm, a hand, and a good portion of its head as well. They walked in and out of my vision, stabbing the fleas that were too slow to jump away.

I was wrenched from watching stunned as they dispatched them with ease when the flea under my buckler rustled, sending a new wave of white-hot pain through my arm. I yelped, pushing against it even harder, hoping for a sound that indicated it was entirely squished.

The rustling of chainmail got closer. I threw my head around. One of them was standing right behind the coffin next to me. Its blindfolded head turned left, then right.

Don’t notice me, don’t notice me.

The flea, however, had other ideas. Its incessant rustling and scratching of chitin against stone was a quiet, yet audible noise to the both of us. The man turned his head directly towards me, chain hanging from his face like a metal beard.

He stabbed, almost too quickly for me to do anything.

I didn’t really do much one way or the other, except flinch to the side ever so slightly, hoping that he hit something vital and that I’d die quickly without feeling too much pain. His face was inches away from mine and I could hear the sound of his breath. It was slightly higher pitched, but not labored, which meant maybe he was a her, but right now, it didn’t matter.

I just held my breath and prayed to the gods that they really couldn’t see through their blindfolds at all.

A moment of tension passed. My heart beat twice.

Then, they pulled their sword back, the flea skewered on it. They brushed it off like a piece of filth. It fell to the ground with a flop.

The cone-hat stood around for another heartbeat, until the movement of another flea caught her eye and she moved on, stepping steadily away from me. The singing resumed and whoever was carrying the bug-lantern started moving on, but I still didn’t dare move or make a single noise. Waiting was an agony, both for my mind and my body.

One and a half eternities later I was sure they’d finally left. I let out a heavy breath and a short, sharp cry of pain. My arm was crawling with a blindingly hot feeling and felt almost entirely numb. I took my thumb and was reminded that no, I was in fact still very capable of feeling pain.

I grit my teeth, breathing faster and faster. I tugged at it, hard. It hurt. White filled my otherwise dimly lit vision. It was pain, it was hell, and with a pop, everything fell back into order.

I let out another long, heavy sigh of relief.

I’m alive. I’m alive, but I think I just realized how much out of my depth I am. I can’t fight anyone here, easily or at all. Not even the fleas if they get much bigger. Probably. Stupid fleas.

I need to find this warden and quick.

As the singing receded slowly but surely into the distant, only a hint of iron on the wind was left to expose the recent struggle for life and death along the crossroads and I could see thirteen feet far.