It wasn’t until they’d fallen asleep that Varus realized what he’d said to them. ‘No story for three days? That implies that I expect that they’ll still be here for that and…longer.’ He exhaled and began tapping on his quill on the paper. ‘They can’t stay, you know that, idiot. Even three days will be pushing things, though it can’t be helped for that long, even if the village sent someone out today…I suppose I can keep them for a week or two. But more than that? They need living parents, you’re just looking after them for a few days until you can get them somewhere safe to live.’ His words felt shallow as a rain puddle, but he clung to them anyway.
It was the snap of his quill that brought him back to reality again. Varus looked down, the darkness was no impediment to the red orbs that were his eyes, at least not when he was clear headed.
The tip was broken off into the wooden surface of his desk, what should have been a period that ended a sentence was now just a little pinhole with part of the quill sticking up through it and nothing but a stump between his finger bones.
“You will have to wait a little longer, my friends.” Varus muttered under his breath, and though he knew it could not possibly have been, he could have sworn he saw the translucent shape of the hero, complete with smirk and eyeroll, and hear his voice as he answered…
‘What’s another hour? Besides, she’s right, they’re cute kids, and need to be looked after properly, go ahead and do that.’
Varus rose from his seat and ventured outside, taking care to walk the long way around the table so as not to disturb their rest, he stood on the grass and felt the wind kiss his bones, embracing him as if he were a long absent family member, only to then move on. ‘I never did figure out why I can still feel all that, or why I still breathe. In all the old stories I heard of undead, that was never mentioned.’ He pondered that briefly and put it out of his mind, there was a lot he didn’t know, and those were just two things among the numberless others that might never be understood.
All that really mattered was that it felt good. He stretched out his fleshless hand in the darkness, hovering it over the earth below and summoned the mana he would need.
He felt it gathering like muscles coiled and ready for action, tense, like a drawn bow or a sword pulled back for a mighty blow…
And nothing happened.
Varus found himself hesitating.
‘Speak the spell. Go on. What are you waiting for?’ He asked himself, and looked back over his shoulder to the door. Beyond it lay the two little ones he’d taken in. ‘You’ve done enough. They’re alive. They may not have all their strength back yet, but they’ve had a few hearty meals at least. Those villagers looked well fed enough, and… books probably sell for a lot, you can give them a few to take with them. That should give them enough money to get by. They’ll be fine without you. No, better than that. They’ll be better off without you. They should be raised by people who properly remember life as more than some abstract fiction…’
The red orbs of his eyes flared a little, blazing like tiny suns as he criticized his reluctance, ‘Just do it! Just because you haven’t had company in who knows how many centuries doesn’t mean you get to steal away their lives to satisfy yourself. You have the company of your characters, that is all you need. Even if the Dark Mother in the shadows doesn’t frown on the unliving, it’s not like the living don’t know to avoid us if they can…besides, what happens if someone believes they are in league with an Elder Lich?’ Varus looked away from the door at last and focused on his still outstretched hand.
It would be a bad look for them both, and make it harder for them to be taken in by someone else later. ‘I had my chance to live. Now it’s their turn.’ He resolved, cast his spell.
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[Create Skeleton][Speech][Hearing] he paused. The last one had been easily destroyed… ‘Should I make this one a little stronger, something that can survive long enough to get its message out?’ It ran the risk of being seen as a greater threat, but after the last one… Varus nodded in approval at his own idea. [Knight Strength]. He added the final property, and enough mana to fulfill his will.
The bones rose up in the place of their creation, summoned by the will of the Lich, it stood in silence as the glowing black mana, invisible in the dark except to the undead who summoned it and waited for a purpose to be given by its master.
Varus pointed to the road and said, “Run down that road until you encounter living people. You are not to harm them. Instead you are to say, “Varus the Elder Lich has children rescued from the forest who are in need of loving homes. Let them who have no children but want them, come and take the pair away.”
“Yes, master…” The skeleton said, and Varus hesitated again. ‘Is a skeleton really the right one for the job here? They’re notoriously dumb. But it’s just two sentences, it can’t possibly do this wrong.’
“Famous last words.” The lich muttered and chuckled a little under his breath before giving the order, “Go.”
And the skeleton turned and began to run.
Varus stood by and watched as its bony feet created tracks in the dirt road that led toward the distant village, and while it ran, he thought of the kind of lives that were waiting for Tuesday and Hannah. ‘They’ll grow crops in peace, live with new parents, good ones, meet people, make friends, grow up, grow wise, grow strong. Perhaps one day they’ll have children of their own, and tell them stories of an Elder Lich who housed them for a few days when they were small and helpless, and their children won’t believe such tall tales…though perhaps a few of my books will find their way from mothers to children, and they’ll live happily to the end of their days. Perhaps their children will tell their grandchildren the story of the Elder Lich, and maybe one day I’ll even be a fairy tale that won’t be believed…who can say?’ He pondered, and a little pang touched the place in his chest where his heart used to be.
‘I have writing to do.’ He told himself, and the translucent vision of the hero passed before his eyes, and he was looking more than a little cross.
“You bet you do. I hate to sound pushy, but you’re supposed to write a love scene soon. It’s a good thing I don’t exist, or I’d be really frustrated right now.” The hero’s hands were on his hips, and Varus nodded to his imagination.
“I know, I know, but it’s a great deal to take in. And besides, with everything, I’m wondering again what happened to the one who inspired you, and feeling more than a little selfish for never bothering to find out.” Varus replied, and he felt the ghost of a hand on his shoulder at the same moment he heard the voice of the priestess in his head.
“I don’t think it’s selfish. I think you’re just afraid of what you’ll find.” She had such a gentle voice, so like her inspiration that Varus paused in midstep.
“Selfishness and cowardice are the same thing sometimes…” He replied, but trailed off when he felt her touch change and become a hug.
“The one you based me on, she would say if you were afraid of anything, it would be that you were afraid of sadness, and she’d tell you that she’d rather be a mystery you never solve, than make you sad. But if you ever did want to know what happened to her and her friends-”
“They’d like some flowers on their graves.” The voice of the hero’s love interest spoke up, “And there’s probably nobody alive now but you who can do that. But hey,” she shrugged, rattling the nonexistent arrows in her quiver, “you said it yourself. The living and the dead have no claim on each other. I guess, since you’re undead, you can ignore them forever if you like, and just keep bringing us back to life in stories, just as often as you like. That’s something else you said, isn’t it? That everyone’s life is a story, and the only real questions were whether it was worth reading or not, and what kind of story it was.”
“Tragedy, comedy, drama…” Varus shook his head as he repeated the list of story genres that he dreamt of writing since boyhood, and tried to imagine his actions in their light. ‘What would I say of a character who ignored his friends and never so much as left flowers at a gravesite…?’ He asked himself, and put in that light, no matter his reasons, they paled.
“Alright, I’ll find out what happened to them.” Varus said and gave a half bow to the three shades as they moved to stand side by side, and the hero coughed into his hand, clearing his throat quite vocally.
“-After I finish writing at least one more chapter before sunrise.”
“Better.” The trio agreed, and then they ceased to be, and Varus lingered to look at the road one more time, the skeleton was already out of sight, and with that, he returned indoors to get back to work at last.