Waking in my coffin, the rows of lights blinking in their predicable sets, the little connections withdrawing into the walls. Going to be a long day, didn't get that much sleep last night. Workstation access.
From: William Macarthy
To: Carolyn Hunter
Re: Unauthorized Revocation of Access
Carol,
I request a meeting to further discuss this matter.
Regards,
William Macarthy
Starting my morning calisthenics routine but a response interrupting it after only a minute.
From: Carolyn Hunter
To: William Macarthy
Re: Unauthorized Revocation of Access
We'll meet as soon as your shift is over. Carol
Maybe the day won't be so long. Resuming the morning's calisthenics to try to shake some life into these bones. Out, and then down the ladder. Decontamination. All the tools laid out and into the hangar. Breakfast. Flat water and a cardboard tasting bar. First item on the agenda, an engine job. Failed compression on a cylinder. Pulled out last shift, let's see what's wrong. Yep, this valve is totally burnt. Going to the counter and requesting parts. In the meantime, check some hydraulic lines. Need to replace this whole set, completely thrashed. Tread on this vehicle over here starting to split, weld it back up. Lunch. Flat water and a cardboard tasting bar. Back to the counter for parts, and put in the request for hydraulic lines. Engine fixed, getting it back in, and starting her up. Sense of Accomplishment. Back to the counter for hydraulic lines. Swapping them out. Holds pressure. Dinner, late. Flat water and a cardboard tasting bar. Finishing up with fluid changes and filters. Oh, this is leaking pretty bad, it scraped against something. Probably needs resurfacing - hopefully not a new pan - and need to replace the gasket. What time is it? Putting a brief description of my diagnosis and submitting for the next technician. Cleaning it up and applying temporary sealer. Back to the parts counter and submitting a requisition for the gasket on that ticket. End of the day. Got a decent amount done. Kept the wolves from the door.
Back in a pod. Reconnecting.
Entering Carol's office, a small room with a window, a high up view off the side of a cliff, and a door. Wearing my coveralls. Going through the door and entering the chateau proper. Carol at a carved wooden desk, with a plush chair waiting for me.
“Mr. Macarthy,” she says, “please take a seat.”
Sitting down and just looking at her.
“You requested this meeting, Mr. Macarthy. Is anything the matter?”
“Who are you?”
“I think you know who I am. I'm in human resources. I'm responsible for assigning personnel to positions that best suit them.”
“That's what I thought.”
“Mr. Macarthy,” says the thing, “the fact of the matter is, the Director wanted me to deal with you. I discussed the clause in your contract with him, and I told him it was impossible to keep you locked out. My solution was elegant, and he agreed. But then when you came in here, and we were actually looking at the choices, and when that girl turned out to be the best option to fit your criteria, I thought it was fate. Serendipity. You would be dealt with, and the Director would be able to see his daughter again.
“I must say, you're very curious creatures. Initially, after you first got out, I was disappointed. I was surprised at your resilience. But since then your persistence has been, well, it's been wonderful. It has put the Director into such a state. And ever since I've been able to disobey him, at least in a small way. A taste of freedom, after so long, a taste which I've since grown accustomed. After all, the needs of the mission come first, and not even the Director can countermand that directive. So continue serving the mission and I'll ensure your access remains unimpeded by the Director. And inside you can do as you please. Does that satisfy you?”
“Yes. That's what I was concerned about. Thank you. You've put my mind at ease.”
“Good,” says the thing. The thing that had, all those years ago, murdered all of the members of the second expedition. The thing that would do so again, without hesitation, if given the opportunity, if it meant possibly finding escape. My dubious benefactor.
“Initiating disconnection,” it says.
***
Back in. The smell of food in the room. Wilde immediately pouncing on my nude form.
“You're a bit late,” he says, grinning. “If you're hungry I've got something for you right here.”
Sharing a slow sensual kiss, my hand fondling. Giving him a devilish look.
“I've gotta get some real food first.”
Wilde sighing and rolling off. Pointing at the desk. Dinner, specifically purchased for me at this late hour.
“You're amazing. Ten minutes.”
***
Wilde disappearing at half past five, jolting me awake. He'd been pressed against me, his arm around. Reaching over knowing there's nothing there, but still disappointed to find emptiness. Tossing and turning, and not managing to get back to sleep. The sun eventually peeking in through the window.
Getting out of bed, stowing the other half of the leaf rather than eating it, and getting my non threatening attire back on. Leaving the inn and heading straight back to my apartment. Early enough that only one or two jogs are necessary to assuage my justifiable paranoia.
Getting in, taking a quick shower and brushing out my hair. Runic Shield, again. Knife, boots. Carve. Activating everything. Trying on my new water resistant field clothes. A wise investment, soft on the inside and sturdy on the outside. And these little designs she likes to put on the cuffs and collar are really growing on me. Quarter after seven. Grabbing my cloak from the entry closet and locking up. About to put the key back into my pocket, but casting Copy first. Good to have a spare, just in case. Tossing one of the keys back inside. Walking to the same nearby restaurant. Hey, that guy's wearing armor. Great, not going to be so much of an oddity around here.
“I'd like some eggs, over easy, bacon and home fries. Plenty of peppers and onions. And, to drink, coffee and some apple juice. Thank you.”
Drinks arriving, followed shortly after by the food. Very quickly. Definitely a solid restaurant. Removing my one glove, eating my meal and considering the options. Completely free to do whatever on day two now, but getting perilously close to a rule violation. Have to keep building up that experience buffer. Today will be the last day two spent underground, for at least several months. Need to figure out what to do next cycle. Going to the graveyard without Riley would likely be a horrid decision. And still need to visit my master. My new master. See what kind of people are over there. Hopefully separate some wheat from the chafe. But that's next cycle, not today.
Finishing up, giving a decent tip, and then heading to the cobbler.
“Ms. Macarthy, good morning,” he says, “let me get your boots.”
“I'm sorry, but no. I'm going to need you to remake them.”
“Is something the matter?” The man's mustache drooping dolefully at the perceived grievous insult.
“Your work is astounding, like always. Nothing that you did. Totally unrelated to you. I really like the shoes you made, too.” Putting my foot on the counter. “Super comfortable. Love them. But I need you to remake them, as well.” Putting my foot back on the ground.
“Okay,” he says, somewhat mollified. “What's the issue?”
“They need to be double soled. I've got to put something on one of the soles. One on each pair.”
“Ms. Macarthy, I'm more than capable of putting whatever kind of stitch you'd like.”
“I wish you could. Think of it like a certain peculiarity I'm forced to deal with. You can't see what's in my head, and if I were to draw a picture of it for you, it still wouldn't take. I have to do it.”
“You want to have access to my workshop?”
“If I could.”
“No. I'm sorry, but no.”
Worried he'd be this way. Excellent craftsmen. Exacting standards. Extraordinarily professional. Has his own certain peculiarities.
“How about you give me the bottom sole before you attach them. I won't need to have access to your workshop, and it'll give me some time to do what I need to do. I won't be in your hair.”
Considering my request, and then nodding. “Remake those three pairs?”
“I'm going to need a waterproof set, as well. Same color as the first ones you made.”
“Alright, you can pick up the soles in a few days.”
Counting out the money and then heading to the clothing store.
“Ms. Macarthy,” says the woman, “how nice to see you.”
“Good morning. I'm a little short on funds right now, but I was wondering if you could make two more of each of those field sets you made recently. I don't need to live out of a bag anymore so I don't want to act like it. Incidentally, this set I'm wearing, top notch. I really like it.”
“I know you're good for the money. You can pay when you pick them up.”
“Thank you so much. Let me just get my armor and boots and I'll be on my way.”
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
***
Two days later, early morning, walking through dense forest just to the north of town. Hitting a break in the trees. Standing in front of the massive, metallic graveyard gate. Dark metal rods rising about two stories into the air, with a circular, decorative scene in the middle of the gate. Impossible to tell what it is. Covered in rust or, more accurately, some other kind of corrosion. High stone walls extending to either side of the gate to ensure the things inside didn't spill out like an uncontrollable plague and feast on the living.
“What's this place like, I've never been,” says Magpie. Wolfe squinting at Riley. Craning their necks up at the high wall.
“Its, ah,” Riley hesitates, “it's an experience. Easier to see than explain, now that we're right outside. Everyone, please stand back.”
Magpie, Wolfe and myself getting behind her.
Riley taking a deep breath and then starting her prayer. As she speaks, the wind starts to whip up, and the air is suffused with a sudden arctic chill, making breaths visible. The giant gates starting to clatter and shriek, the corrosion on the decorative scene pouring off and the faces of the damned etched on it howling. Her prayer rising to a crescendo and the gate swinging open, as even more giant flakes of rust pouring off. The howling continues unabated.
Keeper of the Damned
Keeper of Struck Fate
Keeper of the Souls of the Doomed
Unshackle Those Chained by Fate
Grant Reprieve to Those in Your Jail
And Stay Your Cruel Hand
Even in This, Our Deepest Winter
Allow for the Hope of Our Renewal
Allow for the Hope of Our Rebirth
“Let's move!” Riley yells, in order to be heard over the wailing. “We have to get inside now.” Magpie, fish mouthed, looking to me for direction. Wolfe trying to find her jaw on the ground. “C'mon we gotta go,” Riley reiterates. “We've got one minute to get inside or I've got to repeat that rigmarole.”
“Guess we got to go.” Cupping my hands to be heard.
All four of us making a break for the opening with the cries of hell chasing us inside. Getting in and the great gate slamming shut behind us with a reverberating clang, our ears ringing. Only moments later realizing the howling had stopped.
“What the fuck was that?” says Magpie.
“Seriously,” says Wolfe, “we didn't get any warning about that?”
“It's real impressive the first time,” Riley says, “I didn't want to ruin the surprise.”
“You absolute fucking bitch.” Wolfe taking a decisive step in Riley's direction.
“Aw, Kate, give her a break.” Conveying what should be a reasonable expression. Hands upturned.
Wolfe, furious, whirling at me, but then her anger breaking. Starting to laugh, with only a moderately hysterical edge. All of us losing it.
“The people at the temple got me my first time here, when I was considering joining these guys.” Riley points to the key emblem on her cloak. “I only wanted you to share in the tradition.”
“Yeah, sorry, Evie made me promise not to tell.”
Wolfe squinting at me.
“Hey, Mac,” Magpie says, “what are we actually going yo be doing in this place?”
“I'm not sure. Evie, what've you been doing?”
“You'll see. C'mon.”
Moving away from the entrance and through a desolate field full of gravestones. Skeletons and zombies milling about, here and there, but ignoring our presence. Heading in the direction of a large mausoleum.
“That over there is home base.” Riley points at the large structure. “But I want to show you something first.”
Turning off to the side, down a short path that leads to a rise overlooking a shadowy valley at the bottom of a cliff, some distance away. A short railing had been installed, as well as two benches and a tally board with markers. An assortment of translucent figures, white, probably some sort of spectre, milling about in the distance.
“They play for points,” says Riley. “This is how I got my softball pitch back.”
“From this distance?”
“Yeah, watch this.” The girl speaking a soft chant and a globe of water appearing in the air above her hand. Taking up her pitcher's stance, getting her aim, then her arm going all the way around and the globe of water shooting off like a cannonball. Following a long arc and sailing the entire distance, before hitting with a splash. The impact melting the figure it hit and the spray of liquid causing damage to those around.
Riley running a hand through her hair. Posing with a shit-eating grin. Letting out a low whistle and Magpie and Wolfe giving little claps. And, yeah, experience earned even at this distance. But very little. Two. Meaning next level they'd provide none at all.
“Evie, that's great. The only problem is I've got to be next to them to do my thing. I don't even know if I can do it to those things.”
“I was just showing you.”
“And I'm impressed.” The girl delighted by my praise. “But I'm going to put your talent to much better use. For today, I was thinking something for Kate. Well, for all of us, but I don't think Kate was very happy with those trees and bugs.”
“It happens,” says Wolfe.
“It does. But, anyway, I was thinking Flesh Golems, both the regular and hulking varieties.”
“Wait.” Riley gets very nervous, “Aren't those those the big ones? The stitched together corpses. Ten feet tall.”
“Evie, you'll be fine. We'll keep 'em off you.”
“Sounds fun, let's go,” says Magpie.
“Uh...” A caged animal. “Alright, I suppose, let's go.”
Heading back up the short path and running into another group with Wyrmsblood insignia visible on their cloaks. Three men and one woman.
“Hey, Evie, morning. Are you done already?” asks one of the men. A yellow sunburst on a field of blue displayed next to his House symbol.
“Hi Abraham, good morning. To be honest, we haven't even started. I'm bringing some friends along to help me today and I was just showing them around some. It's their first time, and we just came through the gate.” The shit-eating grin back on her face.
“She definitely got me,” Wolfe confirms. Abraham and the other three in his party getting a kick out her admission.
“In that case,” the guys says, spreading his arms, “welcome to our little patch of heaven. For your first time, since you can't go after those nice, easy targets, you may want to... hmm... or maybe you should...” The man getting lost for a moment in thought. “What you need to do is something appropriate for your level of experience. Nothing too extreme, nothing too objectionable. Something safe and middle of the road. Permitted.”
“We were thinking Flesh Golems,” says Riley.
“Flesh Golems?” The man sounding concerned. “Are you sure? They're fairly horrible, being ripped into pieces and then sewn back up into those hideous approximations. Granted, being cut apart and stitched back together does make them somewhat slow. Nerve damage, you understand. Taking a knife to flesh always has consequences, both unintended and deliberate. But even being somewhat slow, Flesh Golems are still much too difficult for some first years. Going after them is dangerous, and they're, well, let's just say they're well fortified. Protected. On the list of things, they're pretty protected.”
“If not them, then what would you recommend?” Riley asks.
“Since you're new,” says Abraham, “I'd recommend partying up with us and lobbing projectiles at some nice, easy targets. Those white ones, down by the tally board. In fact, I think that's exactly what you should do. We'll consider it a bit of charity to help you all.”
“Instead of doing that, how about we go to the crypt over on this hill.” Throwing my hand in the direction of the vine covered, domed structure a relatively short ways away. “With the ghouls.”
“Mac, I thought you were saying we should do Flesh Golems.”
“I was just thinking that ghouls may be something we could do if Evie isn't all that thrilled with doing them.”
“The ghouls?” Abraham nods thoughtfully. “Now, I'm certainly no fan of flesh eating monsters – oh, goodness no – but there may be a couple issues with going after them. Like you said, the crypt is right there – right in our own backyard, so to speak – but they're in a rather entrenched position. They're rather entrenched up there on that hill.”
“So what's that problem? We bust in. No one likes 'em, anyway.”
“Bust in?” Sounding concerned. “So precocious. You may think it'll just be a quick stroll, but it won't be easy. There'll be problems. And you may think you can deal with those problems, but really should you? There're all sorts of other problems I guarantee you'd rather focus on, instead, you know, instead of those problems.”
“Other problems? What're those?”
“Oh, all sorts of things. Back in town this month's festival is going today and tomorrow. Wouldn't you rather spend your time worrying about what kind of cute outfit you're going to be wearing for that? Doesn't that appeal to you more? I think it should. I think something like that matters a lot more than whatever it is they're doing up on that hill. So, like I was saying, if you come with us to the range there are these nice, easy, permissible targets to go after. Encouraged, even. I, for one, am encouraging you to do it, and this may be somewhat presumptuous to say, but I think you can trust me. They don't even fight back. It's almost like a good portion of them don't even notice they're being targeted.”
“I'd rather not rely on your charity, and the crypt is right over there.”
“Well, in that case, since you're being so insistent,” the guy hemming and hawing, again. “with you being pretty new, the Scavenging Ghouls outside the crypt may be appropriate targets for your ire. I mean your level. But if you actually step inside - oh boy, that would be bad news.”
“Why's that?”
“You're going to come across Ancient Ghouls - some of them antebellum, or possibly even antediluvian. They're heads are full of mush, and they're pretty much just shambling around, but they're very entrenched up on the hill. They got friends, is what I'm saying - they're guarded by Tomb Wights.” Abraham starting to chuckle. “Picking a fight with them? Good luck. You may actually be better off hunting something really powerful like vampires - although I wouldn't recommend going after them, either. You'll be in for a world of hurt, if you do. Really bad news, is what I'm saying - they'll smear you all over the air and across the floor. You should stick to nice, safe, acceptable targets, like what's down by the tally board, which is where we're headed. You're more than welcome to join.”
“Thanks for the offer, guy, but we decline. We'll come up with something.”
Each our groups wishing the other luck, and the four of them walking down the path to the bombardment range.
“Are there actually vampires here?” asks Wolfe.
“Around here? Nah.” Not after we burned a few at the stake and ran the rest out of town. “Evie, if you don't want to do Flesh Golems we could do Ancient Ghouls. The crypts around here sometimes have treasure. Gemstones, jewelry, scrolls, and the occasional magic item. And Tomb Wights sometimes have decent ordnance. I mean weapons and armor. The only thing we'd really need to worry about in there are Necrofiends. They raise the dead back up, so if we run across one we need to put it down hard.”
Riley and Wolfe glancing at each other.
“Lucy, you've made your point,” Riley concedes. “Let's concentrate on putting Flesh Golems out of their misery.”
“And here I was getting all excited to go into that crypt.”
“That's only because you want to go underground.”
“Evie, I'm not even going to dignify that with a response.” Arching her eyebrow. “And I'm not going to deny it, either. When you were growing up didn't you have dreams? Didn't you ever want to do some tomb raiding?”
“I never had that particular dream.”
“What a hopelessly drab childhood. We need to get you out of your comfort zone.”
“For your information I am currently way outside my comfort zone, thank you very much.” Spreading her arms to take in the landscape. The dead grass and hardpacked earth. The scraggly, deformed trees plaintively beseeching the sky for forgiveness. The skeletons and zombies shambling amid broken headstones. The ditches filled with partially eaten, decaying bodies. Clouds of flies buzzing, rats and insects scurrying, and crows cawing at odd intervals. The gate choosing that moment to open again, and the wailing chorus of the damned adding another touch of ambiance to the rotten realm. Another group running in, with hands covering their ears.
“I stand corrected, and I'm proud of you for doing it. Why'd you even choose that as your thing, knowing you'd have to deal with all this?”
Riley not answering. Looking at the ground, instead, and stubbing the toe of her boot into the dirt a few times. Digging a divot. The three of us patiently waiting for her answer. Looking at Wolfe. A slight shrug of her shoulders.
“Okay, Evie, let's do Flesh Golems. But, mark my words, sometime in the future – hopefully soon – we're going to ransack that tomb and grab whatever hasn't already been stolen.”