Madoc
The undead had started to be fresh enough that they retained enough of who they used to be, that they were using weapons. Something Madoc was growing increasingly certain was unfair. They were already outnumbered several hundred to one, stranded with no way to retreat, and now they had to contend with sword wielding zombies? For the thousandth time thought about how he shouldn’t have left the orphanage.
Dodging under a wild swing from, yet another, undead orc, Madoc kept running. Fighting had become pointless quickly, as the waves of zombies just kept coming. One of the goblins had tripped and no one had stopped to help them, even their own tribemates kept running. Sam was still in front of him, his big hammer clearing the way for all of them. The extra reach and power had quickly led to Gom shoving the big man in front while the rest followed.
Gom and the old dwarf looked positively bored. Jogging along as they conserved their energy. Neither had bothered to kill a single one of the undead, leaving it the rest of the party. At first, Madoc had been angry at their apparent laziness. Then he got nervous as he realized both were drawing in large amounts of aether, and releasing none of it. They were both gathering and holding insane amounts of power, their aether cores had to be close to bursting, yet neither showed a hint of it. They just kept jogging along and calling out encouragement as they got closer to whatever it was that Nobbs had found.
“To our left!” Sam called out, his breath calm though rushed as he was gasping for air. Madoc turned to the left and spotted what he had bothered to call out. Trees were bending and cracking. The canopy around them was shivering and shaking, animals screaming in rage as their homes were disturbed. A crash resounded as something hit the soft earth, followed moments later by a crack as another tree was broken. Madoc didn’t want to meet whatever it was that was shaking all of the forest.
“Mine, or do you want it, old timer?” Gom asked as he rolled up his sleeves. A wild grin was starting to spread across his small face as power roiled the air around him.
“Leave it to the knight. We have worse things to deal with,” the dwarf said after squinting for a moment to their left. Never once had any of them stopped moving. To stop would allow the wave of zombies to overtake them and no matter how strong they were, the horde would always win.
“Sir Huntley. Kill it,” the dwarf continued without hesitation. He had slid in to being in charge of their party in mere moments, relieving Gom of his nominal position. Gom didn’t seem to care, a frustrated look at being told he didn’t get to fight. The turbulence around him disappeared as he reigned in his strength.
The knight didn’t bother to respond. He was in the middle of the pack, his knights forming a cluster of steel around their charge. The goblins had fallen to the back, their weaker cultivation making them lag as everyone else pushed forward. While Madoc couldn’t form an aether core, he had reinforced his body multiple times and could rely on continuously skimming the ambient aether. The goblins didn’t have that, at most being second stage body cultivators. Powerful for mortals, weak in a party of cultivators.
Their rifles were helping them bridge the distance though. The stream of hyper accelerated metal pellets had sawed more zombies than anyone else. The minute they ran out of pellets, or their mag rifle batteries died, they would follow soon after. Crook-Tooth might be an exception, the leader was maybe a third stage. They would have the power and strength to escape from their current predicament. Maybe.
Sir Huntley lifted his spear and pointed it at the yet unseen threat. He stopped running, letting everyone else pass him as a wind emanated from him. A wind core then, Madoc thought. Powerful too, as he stirred his aether core, gale force winds began to howl through the trees toward the monstrosity that was chasing to intercept them. The wind stilled for a moment, absolute silence, then Sir Huntley slashed the spear at waist level.
Wind sliced wood, vines, zombies, and stone. A thin line at waist level that swept through the jungle cleanly, cutting anything it touched. Trees slowly tumbled to the ground, vines falling in neat pieces, and the thudding, cracking, and crashing stopped after a moment. Madoc whistled internally at the display of skill. He had unleashed that attack with little build up, during a running fight. Madoc was forced to reconsider the knight and his skill. He had originally assumed that Huntley was nothing more than a face, with the old dwarf being the heavy hitter.
It also made him realize how far out of his depth he was. If Huntley, likely the third or fourth strongest of their part could do that. What in the hells could Gom and the old timer do? What had them so cautious they didn’t dare even launch a single attack at the horde pressing them from all sides?
Madoc felt a shiver of fear roll down his spine. This was the life of a cultivator, exploring the universe for ways to grow stronger. To climb ever higher required risk and facing danger. Still, he wouldn’t have been mad if it waited for him to at least get one peaceful trip in.
The silence lasted only a few moments as Huntley sprinted to catch back up. The horde was after them again, crashing through the jungle in a wave of rotting flesh, just steps behind them. Madoc was forced to dodge a loose spear thrust from an elf with a missing eye and a rotten nose. He slashed his sword across the elfs neck and let the body collapse to the ground. The burst of aether hit hard and spurned him forward.
Even with just running and cutting down those that strayed to close, his aether channels were close to bursting. Madoc was forced to consider unleashing another powerful attack, even if it would weaken him. He restrained himself, simply because the two old ones did. If they needed every ounce of power, he definitely would too.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
They crested a hill, unnoticed because of its gentle slope, and Madoc looked down. A fat river lazily wove its way across the jungle below. The trees around them were thin and weak, young saplings that would grow into giant pillars of living majesty. One of Huntleys knights turned around at the top of the hill and cast a burst of fire behind them. The flame spread like it was hungry, growing and forming a wall that blocked the zombies that had been chasing them. The man wilted for a moment, knees buckling and he only didn’t fall because his fellows grabbed him to keep him from falling.
“Down, in the curve of the river. There’s a compound that Nobbs traced the undead to.” Gom pointed his long finger at one of the random curvatures of the river. Madoc nodded, breathing heavily and drenched in sweat. The break was needed for his mental state. It was one thing to physically stay ahead of a hoard of ravening undead, it was another to mentally break away from them.
“Sam, can you keep breaking the way?” Gom asked.
“Yeah, I’ll be tired by the time we get there though.”
“That’s fine. Huntley and his knights will provide security while the old timer and I deal with it.”
“What is it?” Madoc couldn’t help but ask. The rest of the party seemed perfectly content to traipse through the forest without knowing what they were fighting. Madoc was suddenly anxious to know.
“I think it’s a necromancer. One who found something they shouldn’t have,” Gom whispered the last part, half under his breath. A necromancer wasn’t a big deal. A strange way of aether cultivation, often leading to dead ends or irate mobs of locals. To find one powerful enough to do this though as something different. At least, from what Madoc had read it was strange to find one this powerful.
“It’s something like that. Maybe a vengeful spirit of a god too,” the dwarf added while looking completely unperturbed from their race through the jungle. His clothes were immaculate, he didn't even have a stray leaf in his beard. Madoc was forced to look at his own stained and sweat soaked clothes and couldn’t help but be envious.
“Spirits aren’t real,” Lloyd broke into the conversation.
“Ehhh,” the old dwarf waggled his gnarled hand back and forth.
“You’re right and wrong at the same time. There are no actual spirits, but rather aether that has been shaped and molded by strong convictions that it stays in that shape rather than dispersing after the mortal body has been destroyed. If a god died, and they were determined at the time of death to keep fighting, then they might have left a spirit that would reanimate the dead to keep fighting. I doubt it though,” the dwarf finished as he reached into a pocket and brought out an apple. He munched on the crunchy red fruit while looking out over the forest, ignoring the bombshell he had just dropped on the group.
“Fuck it. You deal with the big bad, I’ll bash my way to it,” Sam said. There’s a hint of rage in his voice as he started to roll his shoulders. He was moving down the hill before anyone could say anything. An aura of power was emanating off of him. The group followed without thought.
They raced down the hill without thought, Madoc panting with exertion. The vegetation became a blur, Madoc having to jump and weave through the vegetation to avoid tripping. Gom somehow managed to keep pace with them, even with his ridiculously short legs. He almost seemed to glide across the ground. Nobbs melted from shadow to shadow, while Ilyria entered a tree and emerged from another. Sam swung his hammer back and forth in a blur of infernal iron, zombies pasted if they got to close. The rest followed only feet behind in single file.
“There’s too many of them!” Sam cried out as a wall of undead appeared out of the forest. A cry trumpeted behind them, a great roar that shook the air. Madoc turned and saw the creature that had been chasing them. An amalgamation of flesh, bodies welded together in a gross parody of life. Part of the body was weeping black and clotted blood, the results of the wind blade. It stood at the top of the hill and glared down at them with a half hundred bloodshot eyes. Flesh waved like tentacles, arms molded together, charred bone spikes bursting forth all around it. A wind picked up and swept downwards and brought the rotting stench of decaying bodies.
“Huntley, we will discuss this later,” the old dwarf said with a sigh. He turned to look up at the hill we had just left and raised his open hand. He closed his fist and the creature exploded as it was crushed around the middle. Organs black with rot came flying out of the ruined creature, its stench unleashed entirely as it wafted down. Madoc gagged as he turned to see Sam being forced backwards.
The new undead were fresh, their wounds still weeping as they swept their weapons around in skilled attacks. The only thing that differentiated them from the living was the metaphysical. They didn’t draw on the ambient aether, instead they were propelled by an inner energy source, one that was reflected in the dim green glow of their eyes.
Madoc jumped forward, his sword sweeping away a mace aimed for Sam’s side, and struck with the speed of a viper. His blade bisected a human’s face, its still healthy brain falling to the ground in pieces. He retracted the blade and stepped back, allowing Sam to swing with enough speed that the air whistled. Another of the undead collapsed as its head was driven into its torso. Huntley and his knights formed an armored wedge and pushed through. Young Lloyd followed behind, his own narrow sword flitting skillfully to dispatch any that survived. Gom trailed after them all, a frown creasing his face.
The use of accumulated power that the dwarf had been saving was a blow. He was still fresh, but the oversized attack would have definitely whittled some of his strength away. Gom would have to carry a larger burden in the next fight. Madoc didn’t really care about any of that at the moment. His aether channels were ready to explode as he cut down another undead. These fresh corpses were packed with aether that his sword greedily siphoned away.
He needed to release some or he was at risk of blowing his aether channels, which could leave him permanently crippled. He stared ahead, beyond the knights cutting their way through, at the wall of undead. He pictured what he wanted, the wall of living fire that froze, a channel like the one Captain Fisher had made. He didn’t have the captain's strength, but he didn’t need to incinerate everything to ash. Madoc started to draw the aether out, forming it around himself in a powerful working. The relief of his abused channels was almost enough to make him weep tears of joy. It felt like a swollen river wedged inside of his limbs.
“MOVE!” Madoc shouted, the only warning he could get out. Huntley and his men were well trained though, parting to allow the blast of living ice fire by. In its passage icicles formed on the ground, leaves covered in white frost, and men exhaled plumes of vapor. The fire struck the lead zombie and froze it, turning skin to black and then forming brittle ice through it. It spread and jumped and Madoc reclaimed it before it could run wild, eating the aether inside of the undead.
A sheet of fire, racing up into the air and then arcing like a wave to crash on the other side, creating a tunnel like Captain Fisher’s. Just much smaller. And already beginning to fade away.
“GO! GO! GO!” Huntley screamed, the men sprinting after the leader and through the tunnel. Madoc followed after, his body sagging as he wanted nothing more than to lay down for a nap. They emerged from the short corridor, the dry chill pleasing against the naturally humid and hot environment. A camp, decaying and falling apart, filled with rusted buildings awaited them.