Oz glided through the camp, using his light body technique to land soundlessly between long steps. Careless undead wandered by, eyes blank, mouths gaping, carrying masses of raw materials in their arms. Some were mundane: wood, bricks, cloth. Others were less so: bundles of strange herbs, stacks of raw meat, piles of still-bloody organs. One carried half a deer, the half-body marked with bite marks and still dripping.
Oz frowned at that, watching that particular undead shamble by. The hell do they need half a raw deer for? Or did that particular undead get hungry and go grab a snack? Do the undead have enough autonomy to do that kind of thing? If so, that’s interesting. I might be able to do something with that.
Though, of course, I shouldn’t do anything related to dark magic at this low level. But I wonder if there’s something I can do below the level of dark magic, to highjack some of the necromancers’ underlings?
After a moment, Oz shook his head. Recon, focus on recon! I need to find the mage in charge of this place and bring them to light in the Mages’ Quarter, not take control of their zombie army.
But if I could…
Oz hesitated another moment, then followed the deer-carrying zombie. He’s heading toward the center tent, anyways. I might as well find out what’s going on with him while I’m at it.
He looked around as he walked, taking in the whole scene. Aside from the unbearable stench, the camp could have been mistaken for the industrious early stages of a settlement. Not a single living human walked around, not as far as Oz could see. He wrinkled his nose. Probably couldn’t stand the smell.
Ahead of him, the deer-carrying zombie ate as he walked, chewing away at the deer. The other zombies ignored him and his deer, not even glancing toward the bleeding hunk of meat. Oz frowned. Is this one special? Hmm. Or maybe it’s just the only one that’s hungry.
Then again, if there’s a thousand zombies in here, it’s pretty good odds that one of them will be a little strange. I’m probably overthinking it.
The deer-eating zombie drew up to one of the pitch-black pools. The other zombies stumbled by, but the deer-eater paused. He swayed up to the edge of the pool, looking down into the darkness.
Oz frowned, watching from a distance.
Abruptly, the zombie lifted the deer out over the edge and waited.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
Blood dripped into the dark, turgid liquid. It floated on the surface, far less dense than the thick black that filled the pool. After a moment, it vanished down into the darkness. Small bubbles rose to the surface, popping once, twice. A putrid scent filled the air as they popped.
Oz pinched his nose, grimacing. Gods. Forget the dangers of an undead army. I’d kill any necromancer that popped up nearby just to keep them from stinking up my library. If this stench sunk into my books…ugh. I’m getting sick just thinking about it.
The liquid churned, suddenly. A pale hand lunged up from the liquid and grabbed the deer, yanking it under the surface. It moved so quickly Oz could barely see it, vanishing under the water just as fast. A single droplet of black burst up into the air and dropped back, sending a ring of ripples over the water’s surface.
Oz’s eyes widened. Holy shit, what was that?
Backing away, the zombie lumbered on.
It only made it a few steps before a pale shape leaped out of the dark pond. An incredibly pale girl, draped in black hair, crawled on black finger- and toe-tips after the zombie. In the space of a heartbeat, she reached the zombie and pounced, bearing him to the ground with her teeth. His stomach burst open, releasing thick deer blood and chunks of gore. The girl dug into the bits of flesh, eagerly lapping them up off the ground.
The zombie struggled weakly. He half-lifted off the ground, pushing to a half-pushup.
The girl lifted her head and opened her bloodstained mouth. She let out an eerie cry.
From the pool, another hand emerged, then another. A mess of pale boys and girls rushed out of the dark liquid, all of them draped in long, dark hair, and fell upon the zombie, tearing him to bits. They swarmed him to death, their white teeth flashing in their pitch-black mouths.
Oz stumbled back. He felt himself starting to gasp and slapped his hands over his mouth, holding completely still.
The original girl looked up. Her head whipped around, and she crawled a step toward him, licking bloody lips with a too-long tongue. Her head lifted, and she sniffed, black eyes half-closing. One step. Another.
Oz pressed his lips together, holding his breath. He took a careful step backward, keeping the distance between himself and the pale girl.
The other pale-skinned children flowed back into the black pool, slipping under the water. One of the boys paused at the water’s edge and turned back, crying out to the girl.
The girl jolted. She sniffed one more time, squinting toward Oz, then whipped around and followed the boy into the pond.
Oz sighed, lowering his hands from his mouth. Man! I almost got eaten. If she decided to leap on me, could I have gotten away? She was fast! Even with my movement technique, I’m not sure I could have kept ahead of her.
And there’s multiple pools. More of these strange creatures. Are they some kind of water demon or fey? Or maybe a ghost or vengeful undead, going by their appearance? I mean, if that girl had crawled out of a well, it wouldn’t have looked out of place.
He shook his head and rubbed his hands over his arms, shivering just a little. Thank you, strange boy! I appreciate you calling back that girl. I was about to get vored!
Fflyn cleared his throat. Excuse you. I was about to be…what was that? Vored? What’s a vored?
Licking his lips, Oz looked aside. Uh. You’ll find out when you’re older. Let’s hurry up and get to that central tent!