“Stop!”

Peter yelled as he pushed the undead into the herd they had created. There was no time to mop around, no rest for the good when half the people in their care had turned into their worst enemies. Peter had refused to move when he came across the sight of her turning into those lifeless monsters, thankfully Fli-Flecity had brought him back to his senses. He followed her instructions and was able to, alongside the remaining guards; force the undead into the group they were now trying to maintain.

But like all good things, it didn’t last. It took one feeble soldier to break the formation and fall from the push from the aggravated undead. As they began to pour out he understood one thing; they couldn’t be contained.

So, ignoring Flecity’s orders he began to hack and slice. Blood fell in buckets as he lay out his anger and wrath on whatever he saw as not human. The others joined in and together they cut down the undead until only a few remained. As Peter moved in to the last few, sounds of women and children crying found their way to his ears.

 “SHUT UP!” Peter stared at the sky and bellowed with all his might. While he pushed back the undead he berated; “Who do ya think yer whimperin’ fer?! All of this is their fault! They turned and killed those you loved and then they turned and killed those I loved!”

He could feel tears trickling down his face as he stared at the lifeless bodies around him. The bodies of mothers, fathers and children all seemed to stare at his figure as he spoke. He walked over the dead in embrace, around the legs and arms of children and away from the bodies before he could see even the green earth amidst all the blood.

“Peter…” Flecity said.

“Argh,” Peter said as he pushed against a particular heavy corpse, sending it tumbling before decapitating it. “This is a massacre, Fliss. I see people dead because of their own stupidity and it is their stupidity that’s cost us so much…unearned suffering. Sure people die all the time, it’s not like I didn’t need whatever peace we had to last forever, but is, wishing for it to last until we’ve both got what we wanted too much to ask? She’s dead and I’m still alive. This is their fault and those idiots, dare to mourn them like it isn’t!? They deserve to hear this.”

Peter killed off the last one infront of him and allowed himself to relax when he saw the guards closing in on the last ones, obstructing them from his view. Turning his attention to the crying girl he motioned for her to continue.

“Everyone’s allowed to mourn whomever they want. You can’t fault them for-”

“Peter,” the old guard interrupted as he came over. “I want you to look for some bandages in the manor. Would you do that for me?”

Peter was about to reply when the spray of blood caught his attention. The moonlight let up once again and the red hair of the remaining undead caught his attention. Pushing the guard aside he was able to catch a flash of her face.

‘Brair’ his core shook again. ‘No, no, no.’

“Hey, get away from her!” He yelled as he made his way over. Brair’s decayed form jolted at his voice and turned in his direction, giving him full view of what he’d lost. Brair was dead, replaced by a mindless slave of magic. Her bright hazel eyes were being replaced by an evergrowing milky colour. Her tanned, freckled face was also losing the colour it once held, turning paler by the second. The muscles around her face had slackened to a single bored expression as she gazed in his direction. All traces of the headstrong woman he had known before was gone.

“Peter, be careful,” Flecity said. “You could still turn.”

“Don’t worry about me, Brair’s our friend. She’s not gonna kill me just like that,” Peter replied pushing said woman back. By now the guards had opened up their circle and were being called back by the oldest amongst them, allowing him to take care of the lone undead, however one refused to obey.

“What’re you doing? Kill her, she’s one of them,” the guard, Hamish, shouted. “What was whole rant just about?”

“Shut it, argh, you green horn bitch,” Peter said as Brair almost capsized him. “Ha, ha, I have the strength to stop things like them, stop them from killing me. These people here, they leach off of my strength, they bum off of the safety I provide. I have the strength to do something about this so I can do this. They don’t have shit so they keep their mouths shut. Learn from them green horn, if not fer that elder you would’ve been dead for speaking like that.”

“Oh, fer the love of-she’s an undead, an unholy being controlled by a flow reader. If you’re not going to kill her I will,” Hamish stepped forward and attempted to strike her from the back.

“Hamish stop-” the old guard spoke out.

However Peter reacted quickly and dodged past the flailing arms of Brair before punching the guard in the unarmored part of his body, pushing him back. The guard grabbed his broken nose and cursed a string of nonsensical words before attempting to attack Peter. Peter dodged the first slash and parried the second before unarming the guard on the third. He headbutted the guard before pushing him away.

“Hamish you idiot stay down,” the elder knelt beside the young man and held him down by the shoulders.

“Fliss keep her away,” Peter ordered before returning his attention to the guard’s glare.

“All of them lying behind her were undead, you only killed them,” the guard spat. “But now you turn into a coward when it comes to her.”

“Like Fliss said, she is our friend-”

“-SO WHAT!” the guard pushed out of his hold. “What gives you the right to keep her like this, this monster when everyone else is dead? My aunt was amongst those survivors when they turned, I HAD TO KILL HER!”

“Hamish…”

Only the growls of Brair were carried by the winds, that and the huffs of Hamish as he shakily stood up. Peter frowned at the insinuation but kept his mouth shut.

‘What’s so wrong about this? Why is he acting out like a child so much?’ Such thoughts passed his mind as he awaited for the man to speak.

“Weak people like them couldn’t kill their turned lovers,” Hamish pointed at their swordless audience. “They had to watch us do it for them; they went through the pain. People with strength, like us followed through with our action and killed our turned lovers.” Hamish gestured to the soldiers beside him. “And we went through the same pain. We all shared the same greif…but you! You want to stop it when it suits you ‘cause what? You’re strong? Because you’re different?”

‘Is it so wrong to want to be treated differently,’ Peter thought. ‘I’ve suffered more than them, I’ve given more of myself to get to the same place where he did. Don’t I deserve more?’

“…No. It’s not ’cause I’m different. It’s just ’cause I don’t give shit about any of them,” Peter gestured around him. “She means something to me and that girl too. I don’t care about any other undead to give them, special treatment.”

“Peter,” Flecity spoke up. “Maybe it’s not such a good idea to keep her here.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” He approached Briar and she reacted by hoarsely growling in his direction. Peter tackled her with the shield which sent her tumbling back. He stood beside Flecity and the two shared a moment of silence.

“Butler!” Peter suddenly yelled. The man bounded to him from the steps of the manor, taking a crescent route to avoid all the bodies.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Yes?” he said trying to hold in his vomit.

“Open up the gates,” Peter said as he grabbed Flecity’s staff and began pushing Brair back.

“Where are we going?” Flecity asked.

“I’m going to get her out of here. I also need to get this,” Peter took out an evelope and waved it around. “To the Willus family so they send reinforcements-woah.”

Brair was able to get past the stick and was only a few inches away from Peter’s chest before he jumped back. He responded with a wack on her head and pushed her out the open doors held open by Bertrand.

“Close it!”

Brair tried jumping back inside but the iron bars crashed into her, causing her to stumble back. She howled and growled without any real voice forming due to her decayed voicebox as she struggled to get past the gates. He held her on a pedestal and seeing her fall so far from grace sent a single tear down his eye. Flecity leaned against him for comfort and despite the fight they had a few minutes ago Peter felt obliged to forgive her under the circumstances. Bertrand went away, saying he needed to check on Mathilda when another individual joined them in their watch. The oldman stood beside them as he watched Brair’s flow-controlled body smash against the bars, slobering everywhere as her hands tried reaching in the air to pull her prey closer.

“I’m old…” the old man began. “I’ve travelled to Yikensworth from Barkilth when I was just your age. I rode in on a carriage with all my belongings from my father’s house to get here. Along the way one of the wheels broke and I was forced to stop at the side of the road to fix it. Now soon after I had begun repairing that damn thing a couple of people rode in on horses. They were nice enough at first, chatted me up into believing I actually knew one of them from before while one of them helped me with the repairs. I became too relaxed around them and by the time I realized what was happening it had been too late. They took my carraige and horses and rode off with all my belongings, leaving me with just the empty road on either side. You know what I did after that? I laughed. I laughed because I refused to believe that all of this was just a coincidence. That my wheel would break at the same time as when they were passing by and that I would choose the exact moment to let my guard down when the repairs were almost complete. There wasn’t anything that couldn’t be replaced in there, except for the scroll I needed get into Yikensworth and lord knows that when those slimy Barkilth guards were gonna give me another permit. Even till now, I believe it was a play by god, a test of the strength of my fate in him. So I turned back and went home. I prayed for the next few months for my things to return; working in the morning and praying everynight. Things seemed …bleak but I continued praying. On the fourth month, after I had finished praying, a man came to my house on horseback. He claimed to be a guard from Yikensworth but didn’t wear any insignia for it nor did he have proper armor on. I gave him my name and then described the incident which caused me to lose my scroll of entry. Before I could ask him anything he handed me a scroll and rode away. That scroll was what was stolen from me four months ago. Anyways, What I’m trying to say is; I had faith in my god and I was given my reward for my belief. God does things that are beyond our comprehension, but we gotta have faith and let things be as they are.”

“If you think I am going to let them kill her-” Peter began.

“I didn’t say that. God has allowed all of them to die but not one of us; the guards have not so much as a scratch on them from this. He allowed your girl to not get cut by the hands of Hamish because he knew you would protect her and others from her. God has a plan for you two, just have faith in him.”

“Listen-”

“Also,” he continued. “Hamish lost his mother in the last war ’cause of the undead made by the flow readers of Chimereans.”

“I didn’t know-”

“Well now you do!” the oldman said gruffly. “So I’d like it if you could apologize for what you said, on a weak old man’s request. Hmm?”

“…What’s he to you?”

“His mother had been dear to me.”

*Sigh* “Fine,” Peter said and without turning around apologized to Hamish. Fortunately for him the oldman accepted it as it was and let the matter drop.

“God isn’t picky with believer and non-believer son, not until judgement day anyway but that’s a long way away. You just do what you can and have faith that he will help with the rest, that’s all. Now what do you want to do with her?”

“I…” Peter looked at Flecity. “I want to save her.”

“And what’s this talk about delivering an evelope?”

“I, uh, got this envelope from Natravi saying that the duchess has written a letter for help to her brother Baron Willus and this is it. I gotta deliver this to them so that we can get some re-enforcements here and stop this mess.”

“Hmmm, you’ll need a horse to get that far, a big one if you’re gonna take her with you,” The old man grabbed his chin in thought.

“I need you to help out here Fliss. But I’ll come back soon enough, with her cured.” Peter lazily held a finger pointing at Brair. “Do you have a horse around here oldman?”

“Peter, don’t you have a ventus scroll?” Flecity asked.

“Yeah but it can’t get us all the way,” Peter took out the scroll he’d taken from the treasury.

“Maybe I can…” Flecity said, deep in thought. After a moment she held out her hand and Peter, after raising an eyebrow, gave her the scroll and staff.

*Sigh* “Just…get be ready, okay.” She said nervously.

“What do you mean?”

But before he could ask further Flecity began murmuring a spell. The winds suddenly picked up around them, clearing out the fog. The scroll suddenly lit up as blue light began flashing from within and when she unscrolled it Peter saw the light turn from a blue one to a dark green one. Flecity kept on murmuring the spell, even as her figure began to shake and beads of sweat began rolling down her face.

“[Fluunt in, vim Ventorum]”

The wind’s suddenly stopped and Flecity fell down to her knees. She leaned against her staff for support as she tried to stop herself from puking. Peter quickly knelt beside her and helped her up but with her knees so wobbly like lard he had no choice but to set her down. The scroll she held in her hand began to burn in green flames, turning into black ashes as the winds picked up around him.

“Hey what did you do?” Peter asked as he began to panic.

“Get her,” Flecity whimpered before she puked at his legs.

“Hey! What do you mean-” Peter said as he felt himself lift off the ground. “Oh shit!”

The oldman held open the gates just as Peter began running towards Brair, but the further he travelled, the  more he levitated untill he was just free floating in the air. Fortunately, Brair met him half way or was it unfortunately. She rushed him and grabbed his left foot just as he was beyond reach. Before he could react she chomped down on the leather shoe, digging her teeth in.

“AHHH Fuck!” Peter yelled. He held his leg as he kept rising and glared at Brair still chewing on the leather. “Marian ‘tumbleweed’ Brair Rose, when ya get fixed I’ll be the first t’ kill ya for that, hear me!”

*Whoosh*

The same whirlwind that had flung them towards Yikensworth appeared beneath him, except this one was much bigger and was pulling in the fog around them making it look like they were standing on clouds. A loud sucking sound emanated from beneath them as they were slowly lowered to ground, dangerously slow. Hamish and the other young guards tried to restrain Brair but Flecity’s shouts rooted them to the ground. In the short time they’d touched the ground, Peter was able to kick Brair off and restrain her by locking her arms behind her back.

“Not now Red, we’ll do this when you’re cured.” Peter smirked as he dodged Briars attempts to bite his face. “Hey, Fliss! What ha-”

*Shhhaaaw*

Without warning the winds suddenly blew Peter and the corpse off into the sky, shooting him into the distant east. Though the man was gone his curses still lingered, layered alongside the ringing in everyone’s ears.

This, again, pushed Flecity over the edge and she was forced to paint the grassy courtyard with her sickness. While her ordeal was still afoot the remaining guards came over to help in whatever useless manner they could; patting her back or just standing close by. The oldest guard amongst them called for Bertrand to fetch water.

“That idiot!” Flecity huffed. She was hunched over in exhaustion and coughed vehemently as she tried to pull herself together. “Marian-tum? Orientum? *Sigh* He went the wrong way.”

Hamish quickly pulled her up as she fell unconscious, narrowly missing the vomit beneath. The senior guard looked her over and sighed in relief as he directed his attention at the dissipating fog in direction of Peter’s flight.

“If that fool went where I think he did…then may the lord have mercy on him,” he said.

“He took an undead with him to the baron’s doorstep, right? He doesn’t need the lord if he’s stronger than he is stupid,” Hamish frowned as he princess-carried Flecity. “Everything’ll be fine here now that he’s gone.”

“Oh, you idiot. You, fucking, idiot,” The old man gave Hamish one look and exasperatedly yelled at the skies in despair. “God! Why am I stuck with this buffoon? Why must you test and torment me so?! ‘Cause of you! I’m certain we’re doomed. Haven’t I taught you anything, boy? ‘Don’t tempt fate!’ You said ‘nothing happens around here’ and then this happened. ‘Everything’ll be fine here?’ You want us going to war? God almighty, Hamish, just leave, alright. Go, shoo, go, go help Betrand in the manor.”

Hamish hung his head in obedience as he carried the boyish girl by the pile of bodies. He stopped at a particular corpse and offered a prayer to the heavens before continuing. The butler and his wife were sitting at the bottom of the stairs deep in conversation. He had to stomp close to them before they noticed his presence. The butler quickly took the girl and retreated to a room in the east wing, accompanied by the headmaid. Hamish exited the manor soon after and looked at the reforming fog before joining the old guard atop a watchtower overlooking the city.

“Why did you defend him?”

“I didn’t defend him. I criticized you and tried to stop you from commiting the sin of hypocrisy. He helped us with those bastards and you turned on him because what? He did the same thing you did before I killed her in your stead? Haah, lets hope you didn’t jinx us with what you said before. I don’t think I’ll be able to survive another war.”

“If a war does happen, sir,” he spoke in a somber tone as the old guard clasped him on the shoulder. “I hope my old man doesn’t have the chance to see it.”

“Heh, thanks for caring son.”