Ch: 197 Hungry Eyes
“I never could remember much of my living time… I think I had children and grandchildren… so long ago… even awakening in my grave is a distant and hazy thing… Probably for the best, I recall a lot of panicked digging.”
Gary started another instrumental, ‘Camino Verde’ a favorite from his grandpa’s spanish guitar lessons, so long ago. “Tell me about the music of your people then… you said you remembered that.”
Long into the night Gary, Shai, Becky and Marceline talked of small things and simple pleasures, seated on a sofa in the garden. Savoring a peaceful night and good company.
“In this place, my hunger is finally silent… this miracle you have brought to me is worth whatever punishment I receive in what is to come…” She sighed happily. The living assumed she was smiling, but her veil of coarse black hair remained stubbornly in place.
“You mention an ending at the gate…” Gary murmured around his pipestem. “I don’t offer endings, dear; I give out new beginnings and second chances.” He whispered, once Shai was curled up around Becky and leaning on him, mostly asleep.
“If you want it, you can be washed clean and sent on your way gently. The cycle of life, death and rebirth doesn’t deal in punishments or rewards, it deals in life, death and guess what? Rebirth.”
“It can’t be that easy, young fool. I have done things in my hunger and madness, things I cannot remember, and some I cannot seem to forget. Crimes must be punished, Balance, Order and Justice demand it.” She croaked softly, careful to not wake the girls.
“We both know I can’t really let you leave this place… outside my influence, your hunger will come screaming back. I can slip you gently into the void without any nonsense or violent unpleasantness. A friend is waiting there to cleanse you of any ‘sins’ you may have lingering. You’ll like the Devourer of Souls…” He whispered. “They have a strange sense of humor.”
“Is that the eldritch gaze that follows you? Your living pets seem oblivious to it…” She asked softly. “How did you collect so many of the living to you? Are you one of those sex vampires?”
“I’m not really undead Marcie, I’m almost completely alive… now. I was undead for a long time though… ok, four years is nothing to you, but it was a long time to me.”
“Really? You don’t feed on them at all? Not even these two luscious morsels?” She had a strange, longing look in the one murky yellow eye that peeked out from behind her hair.
“I’m the one feeding you… and them right now. Why do you think your hunger abated when I approached?” He smiled gently over the two young women asleep on his lap. “I share everything I am with them and they share with me… our excess is enough to silence your ravenous nature.”
“I confess great curiosity about you, young deadling, but we both know what would happen were I to linger near you. There are too many tempting morsels, eventually I would slip…” Her hair parted just a little, displaying long, jagged teeth and a reptilian tongue, behind bloodless gray lips. “Let us go somewhere private; I would have you show me what the void holds please, while I remain sentient.”
“That’s the best part… you need only slip into my bath. It’s all very civilized.” He slipped gently from beneath the girls and conjured a blanket over them. “Would you like company? I kinda think it’s better to cross over with someone there. Come on.”
With a smile he reached out and took her cold, skeletal claw in his hand and gently led her off to the private bath.
#
Over breakfast in the morning Gary smiled and told the tale to anyone who wanted to listen in. “She was old, really old, to the point all her memories had faded away. All that was left was the core of her personality and her hunger. I eased her into the next life and that’s that.” He sighed sadly. “Vampires get a bad rap, ‘cause of the ravenous blood drinking and cannibalism… but it’s more like a magical disease than a choice.”
“Really? I’d always heard that vampires choose that existence.” Emma asked excitedly. “We get a lot of undead, I’m interested in learning more…”
“Vampirism is a disease, anyone can be infected by it and more than a few carry the disease; you catch it from a bite or claw wound from an infected creature. The deal is, as the infected creature nears death, even years or decades after the initial infection, there is a chance they will develop the hunger. To vamp out, you have to choose to indulge that hunger, in order to extend your life… usually.” His smile became a little sad.
“Marcy was dead and buried, when the demon manifested in the necropolis; its excess magical overflow kickstarted her into unlife. She clawed her way out of her grave while the townsfolk were fleeing and… made some mistakes.”
“Is that why she looked so…” Emma fell silent, at a loss for words suitable for breakfast
Yeah, she didn’t choose to become a vamp, that was why she was so obviously dead. Normal vamps look pretty convincingly alive.” Gary answered happily. “She gave me a lot of insight into the current resident of the necropolis. We have a classic empathic vampire demon, she feeds on fear, pain and misery, just like I suspected.” He chuckled darkly at some private amusement. “Her most powerful minions are her shadow wights, the ghosts of the poor fools sacrificed to summon her here. Cultists, I think.”
“If that’s the case, why are you smiling?” Hamish demanded. “Shadow wights are a class A threat, it sounds like she has several!”
“Yeah, she still has a few, I ate a bunch of them already, I have room for more.” Now he had a hungry smile on his lips. “The shadows are what allows her to manipulate the remnant energy in corpses... but I drained all those dry, no more walking for those bodies. All she has is whatever she holds in reserve.” He smiled sadly again.
“Poor Marcie’s memories came flooding back in the bath, but she didn’t stick around long enough to tell me much more than that. She had a lot of guilt wrapped up in that shroud.”
#
Lady Helene Kinneman sipped her morning tea and compressed her lips into a thin, sour smile. “Belen’s antics have been an embarrassment for generations, Wheatford is now known as ‘the common duke’ in some quarters. We will lose everything if this is allowed to continue…”
House Kinneman’s ancestral pile on the far side of the uplands quarter was packed to the rafters with lords, ladies and minor knights, lodging wherever they could. Her spacious parlor had seating for a dozen, with a few more standing and listening intently to her words.
“Are you suggesting we convene the council of lords and attempt to elect a new duke? The council of dukes would never allow it.” Timarch Holloman sniffed. “My own brother is slavishly loyal to his master… and he thinks the sun rises and sets on Belen’s pet witches.”
More than one shocked eyebrow raised in the intimate parlor, at his display of open hostility to the local ruling house.
Sir Bowen Fife gave a mirthless chuckle at the flustered baron. “Forgive me Timarch, but did not Belen and his ‘pet witch’ intervene in your domain this winter? From what I heard, you would be baron of a festering tidepool filled with sea monsters otherwise…”
“Of course you don’t see the problem, Fife! You’ve as much hay in your hair as any common stableboy!” Timarch snapped angrily, further damaging the already fragile decorum of the room. “...Half a bloody commoner yourself!” He grumbled and sneered.
Bowen finished his tea, bowed to his hostess and the gathered company with a smile. “On that note, I’ll take my leave. A simple horse breeder feels out of place among such rarefied minds… good morning to you all.” He bowed once more and departed, with just a little swagger in his rolling, horseman’s gait.
“He is going to be tattling to Belen within the hour, Timarch…” Helene sighed. “Subtlety really does escape you.”
“Subtlety is a game for leisurely plots and schemes… at this rate we will be little better than commoners by next winter. My own brother is going to model his orphanage on the madhouse here in Wheatford… Our rights and privileges have already diminished! I received a scolding for allowing corporal punishment of indentures… Scolded! Me, a true belted knight and peer of the realm!” His voice continued to climb higher, becoming shrill and agitated.
“Marcy, only herbal tea for baron Holloman, from now on.” Helen commanded her maid, who was lingering unobtrusively among the other half dozen servants moving around the parlor.
#
“None of them have the stones to try it… but expect some plotting and schemes around the edges. They seem particularly offended by your new wizard… or whatever.” Sir Fife muttered around his pipestem. “That’s good herb… why do I feel like I’m wearing a really snug hat all of the sudden?”
“The madman calls it ‘headband’ for that very reason.” Leo grumbled happily. “Liam Kinnis grows it. The boy has surprising depths, and a good head on his shoulders.” The duke took another long, leisurely puff on his silly long pipe of turned plum wood and amber, before passing it to old Anglin of War.
“None will attempt anything direct…” Fife continued, once his lungs were nicely smoked. “Timarch is the only unknown factor. He seems even less rational than I remember.”
“That village, the one with the sea monster… Evard village… My daughter’s team helped recover the mayor’s strongbox. It was broken open in the recovery, so my loyal knights took a detailed inventory. It held a truly remarkable stash of coin and securities… and three sets of tax ledgers.” The duke smiled in sublime pleasure as he smoked with three of his closest advisors.
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“One set for his duke and the tax office, one for Timarch and one for the mayor himself…” Leo said with a grin. “Three wildly different sets of ledgers. Mayor Kliff was helping the baron Holloman embezzle from his brother… and skimming a goodly bit for himself as well. Lucien was well aware and had been making up for their ‘clever graft’ to avoid my notice and protect his fool brother. Now the evidence has come to light.”
“Oh…” Anglin grumbled sourly. “I’d heard Kliff was going to trial on tax charges…”
“Convicted last week, he’s getting his criminal indenture geas today or tomorrow. He’s all yours now, old friend.” Leo added with a stoned grin.
“What am I supposed to do with a fifty year old tax cheat in my legion, Leo? Sell his indenture to some fool, I have an army to run here!” Anglin griped.
“I hear he is a competent journeyman smith…” Leo soothed his mentor. “There’s that at least.”
“I’ll put him to work on the fringe somewhere… somewhere unpleasant.” The old man may have smirked just a little, it was hard to tell past the burn scars marring his face and throat.
“Will duke Holloman charge his brother? Or keep it in the family?” Fife asked quietly. “Either way it will be a scandal in an already fraught duchy.”
“Less fraught than it was a few weeks ago. The fringe withdrew about sixty miles from my border, putting us back where we were more than a thousand years ago… it’s hard to be sure.” Leo seemed inordinately pleased by the idea, even more than one would expect from a man who just received such an enormous gift.
“The duchy of Port Ellis is returned to human hands, in its entirety, after twenty eight years beyond the fringe. Many of those towns and villages can be recovered fully in a generation or two, with work and diligence.”
“I fail to see how that will aid you with the increasingly volatile noble factions.” Sir Fife coughed a little, as the pipe continued circling.
“Ahh, I spoke with Lucien about his younger brother, we both have come to the same conclusion independently… Timarch needs a greater challenge, more than running his few sleepy seaside hamlets. A grand project to invest himself… and his surprisingly large fortune in, is just the thing. Say… rebuilding the fallen barony of Hillreach and its fabled orchards.”
Anglin giggled for a moment, before remembering his dignity and frowning. “That is a serious job… he is not a serious man.”
“That is why he will be ‘assisted’ by a wise and able cleric, a spiritual leader with the years and wisdom to guide him on…” Leo started laughing and nearly fell off his campaign stool. Anglin’s office was spartan and furnished entirely in the gear he carried on the march. The old, scarred warrior had fallen deathly still, gone pale, then flushed an angry red, before his duke fell apart, spoiling the fun.
“Sorry Anglin, I couldn’t help myself. I’m sending Angus Quince from Flintspire. That man is more than a match for Timarch and whatever plots he might consider.”
“Lady Helene is becoming more bold in her maneuverings, she does however, remain an idiot.” Fife muttered. “Dane Kinneman remains loyal, perhaps mostly to spite his wife… He wishes to squire his son, Matthew Kinneman in your court…” The young knight smiled warmly at his lord and winked. “I would be happy to train the lad, if your grace allows.”
“I might have another squire for you as well, can you manage two?” Leo asked with a cheeky grin.
#
The band was all geared up, in formation and freshly admonished, standing at the gate. Well, Gary and Pangbourne were freshly admonished… and placed on opposite sides of the line.
“Move out.” Khan announced and they began marching.
As before, Tawny’s team took the lead; though today each one had a slim, short, child’s practice bow and a quiver of blunt arrows slung on their hips.
“What’s with the toy bows? Are we going to be attacked by archery butts and straw bales?” Pangbourne asked mildly. “I once received a very serious cut from a freshly creased paper bullseye…” Despite his dislike for the man, Gary chuckled at that one.
“We might encounter more unaligned undead, they may not be as pleasant to visit with as Marcie was. These bows are super specific, they will be part of the initial gear package we send out, to those who agree to our terms.”
A few more slinking shades crawled out to sink into his shadow as they marched, nothing like the constant flood of that prior day. Here and there, a small scurrying creature of shadowstuff would dart out from a shady spot and vanish beneath his feet, often with a quiet sigh.
“Marcie said there were a few small fry around, too tough for the demon to take over, but still weak. At least one wight, a demi lich and a few assorted walking bodies…” He paused, mid ramble. “Oh, here we go, walking corpses coming in from the north.”
“Form up, ready…” Khan called, as the youngsters fell back to the main group, drawing their silly kid’s bows. Gary and Becky produced their singing batons and took the front with Shai, murdershovel armed and looking grim, while the archers got ready.
“Looks like an even dozen zeds coming in.” Gary had just finished speaking, when the first moldering, fungus shrouded zombie came ambling out.
“Archers, fire for effect… loose at will.” Liam called. A heartbeat later, an arrow thunked into its torso, raising a huge cloud of dusty brown spores and shaking a number of small, scraggly mushrooms off its shoulders. The thing stopped, shuddered and exploded into dust.
“Nice one Dannyl!” Gary cheered from the front, as the cloud of dust washed over him.
“Ohh, Shit! Shit, shit! Run!” He shouted while pelting out of the cloud. “Fucking Axio! They’re magic mushroom zombies!”
Seeing the madman flee, the others followed in good order, with Liam bringing up the rear. They moved quickly, outpacing the cloud as it rapidly lost energy and drifted down to the ground.
His teammates kept the following shamblers back with well placed arrows. They detonated, expanding the cloud, but at sufficient range to avoid inhaling the spores… it was too late for Gary. The boy was flying high and sticking close to Shai and Becky with a feral and confused look in his eyes.
“Jelloworld! In all the flavors…” He muttered.
Liam slowed when he exited the town gate at last, while the final zombie puffed into dust. “He looks pretty far gone, can you do anything?” He asked Tawny, while Gary rolled on the fresh green lawn he’d brought to this desolate place.
“No, his biology is too unusual for my cleansing spells. With that slug, I just made him worse. Let him run it off, that’s the best thing, I think.
On Tawny’s recommendation, Shai let go of her boy’s sash and turned him loose to run. Gary kept running and leaping over obstacles in a very smooth and fluid way. Strangely so, like he was constructed of jiggly pudding… and he kept turning colors… Everything was changing colors. “Tawny, I think I got a little dosed.” Liam said with a blissful smile.
The firm swat on the ass he received sent him chasing his mad brother around the wide greensward surrounding the inn, whooping with pleasure and grinning.
#
An hour and a half later, both young men were lounging in the bath, looking much improved. “I thought making them detonate would be more impressive for our guests…” Gary murmured in an embarrassed whisper. “It was just bad luck that those zeds were infested with sillyshrooms. I have some other ghost whompers for when we go back, speaking of… I’m ready if you are.”
Twenty minutes later, the troupe was assembled… again. “Sorry, sorry, we won’t get caught like that again… the bows did work great though!” Gary waved and apologized to the group at the gate. “We have non-exploding gear now… no worries!”
#
Once more the mortal filth began marching in her direction, with their deadling at the front. His disgustingly mortal aura repulsed and intrigued her senses, commanding her attention. Vixoreath whispered into the half formed minds of her minions, commanding them to her will with irresistible force. Slowly she unleashed her great working, the purpose for which she had come to this fetid plane of mortal wretchedness. “Come to me now mortals… and meet your screaming, delicious ends…”
#
“It feels like the aura is much weaker… or is it gone?” Emma asked, at the necropolis gate.
“Nearly gone.” Gary muttered, squinting into the distance. “She’s up to something… I can sense it… it’s familiar, really familiar…”
“Is it a threat?” Liam asked softly. “Dannyl and I can slip closer and scout it…”
“Nahh, like a vamp, she can sense the living, I could have snuck in a few days ago, but now she knows what I smell like… sorta. That’s what makes vampires so dangerous, they sense us coming, can’t sneak up on them.”
“But is it a threat? Should we pull back?” Liam insisted.
“She’s almost spent, whatever this is, it’s her big play… honestly, I’m curious to see it. How about the observers stay back, I go out front and have a chat with her…” Liam and the others looked skeptical at that.
“She’s not ‘eeeeviiillll’ she’s just a huge asshole, with an absolute surety of her own superiority and invulnerability… like the Hollow one, slugboy and Skrigg. I managed those jerks just fine, one even turned out to be cool!”
“Victor was alright… I guess. For a creepy monster puppet.” Liam complained.
“I made a fully functional body to let an immortal spirit walk the world for a few days and you think that’s creepy…? Ok, yeah, you got me there.” Gary smiled at his brother. “Trust me bro we can handle this, whatever she throws at us.”
#
She felt them scurrying closer, the short lived, wretched things. It irked her that their remnants were her primary tool in this realm, but there was no shortage; if anything there was too much of them to be manageable alone. That was what slaves were for.
She lashed her servants into action, bending their substance to her design with an implacable will. The earth shook with a rumbling groan as unknowable forces met and mingled in the sprawling ossuary temple.
#
“Really Gary? ‘Whatever she throws at us’? You were asking for it!” Becky shouted, as she dodged a huge ball of detritus. The projectile shattered into bone fragments on a crypt, spider webbing the granite monument with cracks.
The hundred foot tall bone colossus plucked another wad of remains from inside its corpse packed ribcage and hurled it at Liam.
Composed entirely of stripped bones, the massive skeleton temple was up and mobile. The torso of the thing was filled with ragged, shroud wrapped packets, every one an undead projectile waiting to be thrown.
Each towering leg and arm was a mad patchwork of human bones, adhered together to form a wildly upscaled human skeleton, with the temple skull riding on top. Oversized to an almost comical degree, the eyes of the skull construct blazed with enough fury and menace to render it unamusing.
“Yes, mortal filth, flee!” She cackled through her cavernous mouth of skulls.
Liam dashed behind a sepulcher, while her weapon detonated a gravestone in his wake. “Can you handle this?” He shouted from cover.
“Yeah, keep her busy for a minute… I can’t believe she went for a kaiju battle… unexpected!” He shouted back.
That drew her ire, and her fire. A stream of child sized shrouds came blasting at Gary, rapid fire tragedies hurtling from their unquiet graves. Rather than trying to dodge, the madman reached down, grabbed his own shadow and pulled it up from the ground, spreading it out. The tiny zombies vanished into his outstretched Ka, emerging on the other side of the shady, semitransparent membrane as small moths, fluttering skyward.
“Ohh, bitch… now I’m mad!” He snarled at the towering abomination.
#
Emma shrieked softly and clung to Sir Pangbourne’s muscular arm, warm and comforting in his red armor of War. “Fear not, they are handling themselves as well as can be expected, under the circumstances.” He said loudly enough to be heard over the sound of the distant battle. They were watching from a section of wall that had crumbled into a stable rampart, overlooking the scene.
Khan and Luna stood nearby watching with their bows drawn, alert, but not alarmed. Rolf and his team were less sanguine. The young knight was almost vibrating with restrained violence, watching his sister’s team scurry about under the monstrosity’s feet like insects.
His veterans displayed a mixture of emotions, standing by on their lord’s orders, while the youngsters fought for their lives.
“Calmly, brothers and sisters…” Luna murmured over the din. “They have fought worse with less preparation. Have faith in them.”
Their faces showed that the general opinion was that she was mad and the kids were going to get crushed...
Dannyl had his childish little bow out, flinging arrows into the thing at random times, just to keep it distracted. Each hit only destroyed one of the many many thousands of corpses that made up the awful thing, but it was entertaining to watch them detonate.
Becky was using a shortbow of similar design, but her targets just crumbled to soil and dust when struck, much less satisfying, if just as effective.
Together, they covered Gary as he dashed into a wide open meditation garden that had long since died and blown away to dust. In a clear spot, on top of an ornamental stone lantern, he placed his ceramic ghost crock. “Dannyl! When I signal, shoot the jar!” He cackled with mad glee and dashed back into the fray.
He hurled a ceramic sphere the size of a small melon as hard as he could, smashing it on the creature’s knee. Shai did the same, splattering that same limb with a similar fragile porcelain globe filled with liquid.
“Spark’em!” He shouted with a laugh. Shai dashed close, right under the monster’s foot and spoke her fire starting cantrip, blasting a short lived but fierce jet of flame up the thing’s leg.
With a soft ‘Whoosh!’ nearly invisible flames flew up the monumental leg, cracking bones and sending the thing stumbling around in confusion. Unholy liquor, steeped in the essence of a trapped and furious soul ignited with raging fury, consuming everything it touched and sending waves of screaming, angry souls into the sky. Each one hurtled back, vanishing into the mad musician’s shadow.
The skull tiped back and howled a thunderous, ear shattering wail of unholy agony into the sky, startling birds into panicked flight miles away.
“We call that pain…” He shouted to the creature. “It’s a mortal experience… Enjoy learning new things, bitch.”
In reply she roared mindlessly and hurled another fistful of undead children and mummified pets at him. He captured them in his shadow, with a smooth movement that defied observation.
“Becks, Shai…” Gary sang out, as his teleblaster banshee began to wail. “I need you girls in the mix. Find a spot behind the mortuary and join in…” His instrument screamed in rage at the monster towering so high above the small band of warriors. “It’s time to show her what we do.”
#