Steve rushed up the steps, the time for subtlety had passed. The only thing he had to do was get Ryland and himself out. His heart was pounding and the world blurred as he rushed for their room. Heavy footsteps echoed in the wooden structure much to the chagrin of the innkeeper.
“You’ll pay for any damages!” He cried out.
But Steve ignored him, turning the corner he noticed the mythical incense leaking from the door. He tried to grab his keys, only to remember his deadend arm. Using his other hand, he awkwardly fiddled in his pocket to pull out the keyring. It took a few attempts for the key to fit into the slot. A quick turn and he flung the door open. A wave of billowing smoke poured from the room and sunk to the floor. The creeping tendrils sticky and heavy. Using his shirt, Steve covered his face and charged in.
“Ry! RY!” He called out.
The ghost was nearly nonexistent. Just some stray bits of light floating on the bed. Whatever Khul had done nearly killed him. There was no waking the man, he had to move fast. Reaching for the zombie, he felt the skin crumble from his touch. The creature was in the late stages of decomposition and turning to dust. If it weren't for the subtle eye twitches, Steve would have thought it was over. Grabbing the pillows, He began to fan the smoke out of the room. Hopefully with the smog cleared, they could start to recover.
“What the hell is this!” The innkeeper called out.
The angered footsteps rushed up the steps adding more problems for Steve. Thinking fast, He grabbed the bedsheet and tossed it over the corpse. They were about to get kicked out and adding a corpse would only land him in jail. With the zombie covered, he began packing his bags, prepping for the inevitable. The owner turned the corner, coughing from the pungent cloud of vapors.
“Do I have to call the guard! GET OUT!” He screamed.
Steve didn’t need to be told twice.
“I’m leaving, I’m leaving. Sorry for your troubles, Just a brew gone wrong. No need to get authorities involved. Let me pack and I’ll pay an extra night”
Seeing there was no fire, the innkeeper calmed—slightly. Gold was always the answer. While he wasn’t happy with the situation, his greed won.
“10 minutes, I don’t want to ever see your face again” He held out his hand and Steve quickly paid the bribe.
10 minutes. Heading down the stairs, he grabbed the barrel from the front and hoisted it onto his shoulder. With care, he placed the corpse into the container and capped the top. Walking to the bed, he knelt by the fading man.
“Ryland, I know you’ve dealt with worse than this. I just need you to wake up buddy. We need to get you out of here”
Ryland felt horrible. That strange smoke was draining, nearly his entire pool was siphoned in seconds. Through his bond, he could feel the same happening with his body. A shared sense of panic resonating between the two. He tried to phase through the door, but was too weak to do so. The zombie tried to crawl to a higher spot, anything to avoid the choking haze but the desiccated limb snapped under the weight. Only a few seconds had passed before the world went dark.
But nothing annoyed Ryland more then nagging and Steve was a master at it. With his name called over and over, Ryland began to stir. He could hear the muffled voice of Steve, the man begging for him to get up. But he didn’t want to, all thoughts were on sleep. To rest and recover. Yet, he knew he couldn’t. Forcing the thoughts away, Ryland began to sit up. His vision was hazy, his body weak. Ryland didn’t know what Steve wanted or was doing, but he had to trust the man.
His vision zeroed in on Steve. His friend constantly glancing back to make sure he was following. Normally that would annoy him, but in this moment he was grateful for the man. Just one step at a time, each one more laborious than the last. He was so weak, he was so tired. Everything was pulling at him to stop, that if he used up his energy he’d collapse. But Ryland powered through, he had come all this way and refused to give up. Glancing up, he felt the lingering stirs of his body. The creature is doing its best to motivate Ry through their bond. But he couldn’t do it, Ryland collapsed once more. He was too weak and the darkness came once more. With the last moments of consciousness, that wonderful voice spoke.
[[My Body and Me – Level 5]]
–Skill Gained–
[[From Death to Undeath]] - Removed
[[Shared Strength]] – Gained
Only a second had passed when Ryland awoke. He felt a surge of energy press into his very soul. His weakness faded and some color returned to his ethereal form. With renewed vigor, he continued forward, he was so close to the exit. As they pushed onward, he felt the bond weaken. It was then he realized what the skill did. His body was nearly gone as it sacrificed its own strength to help him. The pool of energy was near empty and Ryland wasn’t sure what would happen when it emptied. But for now, he had to do it for both of them.
Stumbling past the door, Ryland kept to the shadows. Thankfully the sun had begun to set and the purifying force was significantly weakened. He could hear Steve trying to say something, but in his state, it was only muffles. Instead, he just slid against the wall and sat. He needed to focus up and conserve their energy. Unless they fed soon, he wasn’t sure they’d make it through the night.
With the two of them out, Steve sent for a delivery man. A sense of paranoia filling his brain as he scanned the various streets. . Khul had surprised him twice and he couldn’t afford a third. Especially now that he was traveling with a zombie in a can. Through the window, he saw the innkeeper angrily staring. He did feel bad for the guy, hopefully that incense wouldn’t cause much damage.
“Come on already” he mumbled as he felt his dead arm.
Finally, the cart arrived. It was a hand-pulled wagon with a bit of a cover. Loading up the barrel, he saw Ryland crawl onto the back and sprawl out. At least he was safe in the shade. Tightening his cloak, Steve joined the cart-walker as they headed towards the loading zone. For all the rush of the day, the sunset was much more peaceful. People were stepping out to light the lanterns and the faint glow illuminated the streets. He breathed deep, they were almost clear. Just get through the gates and all would be well.
As they arrived, the owner quickly flagged him down.
“Ey load up on the back. I still got some room for ya. Just the two of us tonight. Road should be safe this close to the capital”
Steve nodded and began to put the barrel onto the back.
“Let me help ya with dat” he said. Steve didn’t decline. One arm was terrible to work with.
Once the package was clearly secured, the two hung their lanterns. Steve hopped into the passenger’s seat and they took a slow ride to the front gates..
“What bring’s ye to our little town” He asked.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Oh my teacher sent me out to collect some herbs. Part of my training for potion making.”
“I see, I see, always good to have a good brew! I’d lost my leg if it wasn’t for that healing potion!” He lifted his leg to show off the gnarly scar.
“Got it when the horses were spooked. Damn things ran me over! Can’t blame em though. Wasn’t the safest place and glad we made it through. Ain't that right boys” He leaned forward and gave their back a rub.
The two continued to casually chat as they approached the gate. They were one of the last ones to leave the village. Once their names were signed and marked, they hit the main road. It was a cool night, the crickets chirping, and the sound of crunching twigs under the hooves. With their worries behind, Steve could finally relax. It wasn’t the most comfortable of seats, but for all the hells he went through, it was the best cushion in the world. Laying back on his arms, he started to drift to sleep. The bumpy road rocking the sorrows away. His thoughts filled with pride, once he arrived at the capital with his prize; he’d get promoted within the cult. Just a few more days and his journey in Necromancy would take a huge leap.
“Apprentice!” that familiar, deep voice called out.
Steve shot up and panicked. It couldn’t be, it shouldn’t be, but it was. Standing in the middle of the road was Khul. Even in the dark, his glowing eyes pierced the shadows.
“You know him?” the driver asked.
“Go around and ignore him” Steve whispered.
“Aye, I can’t go round? What if he needs help? Sides, he is in the road. This cart aint good in the mud”
Why couldn’t this man just leave him alone. He’d already escaped death twice and was not prepared for a third. As the driver approached, the wagon slowed to a stop.
“I see you are a man of worth. What a fine student you must be! We are always looking for our sect. For one so obsessed with…death, I’m sure you’d make a marvelous pupil” He grinned.
A wave of goosebumps arose across the skin, the hairs sticking up as adrenaline took hold. It took all his will to not flee on the spot. He was prey once more and this wolf was toying with him. Thankfully; With the driver next to him, he knew Khul had to be careful. Killing an innocent was nearly beyond redemption. Only in the most extreme cases would it be passable. Besides, It wouldn’t be the first time he’d used a living shield. Still, Khul was a towering presence. Even sitting in the cart, the man was a good two inches taller. He wore a friendly expression that betrayed the intense aura emitted.
While Steve kept his cool, The driver was shaking. The [[Cleric of Deas]] was an emulation of the god of death. A walking vassal for the lord below the ground. While Steve was somewhat used to the darker side of humanity, the driver…not so much. Khul must have noticed the hesitation and just reached into the cabin.
“Calm yourself, I’m just chatting with my good friend” He placed a hand onto the man’s chest and whispered a skill. A flash of light emanated from his palm and he was knocked out.
With the witness gone, Khul turned back. His once friendly demeanor shifted to something far more sinister.
“Now…Steve. I don’t know what you are, but I know what you have done.” The billowing cloud began to arise once more.
“Strangely, I don’t feel the urge to smite you on the spot, but that only makes me so much more curious. Now, be a good little apprentice and show me your secrets”
The fuming incense wrapped around his limbs once more. The cold chill of death immobilizing him with ease. A psychological lock preying on the most instinctual fears of the mortal mind. He could hear the footsteps behind as Khul opened the trunk. He needed to break the spell, there had to be something. Anything to overwhelm the magical bindings. Scouring the seat, he saw the faint reflection of a nail. A nasty, rusty piece of metal partially poking out from the wood. He might get infected, but that would be a problem for later. Gathering his strength, he closed his eyes and started to shift his weight. Back and forth he began to rock, building up what little momentum he could muster. All the while, Khul was tearing apart the wagon’s contents. The various containers torn apart, the cracking of wood as he ripped off the lids. If he found the zombie, this journey would end. Feeling his balance falter, Steve fell to his side. His body crashing into the rusty spike and impaling his arm with a deep wound. It hurt–a lot. But Steve pushed away the pain, he needed to act.
Khul glanced up and the two made eye contact.
“Apprentice…” his tongue dripping with venom.
But Steve ignored him. Before the smoke reinforced the spell, he grabbed the riding crop and smacked the horse. The creature was not happy and reared up. Steve grabbed hold of the driver and kept him from falling out as the horses flew forward. The sudden movement caused a few of the cargo to fall out behind forcing the priest back.
But this wasn’t Khul’s first escapee. The Cleric flipped backwards, avoiding the burst containers and began to chant. His legs dug into the ground for support as he raised his arm. Using his other hand, he grabbed the elbow to brace himself. The man had pissed him off and he wasn’t going to hold back. As the chanting intensified, waves of pressure radiated from his body. His censor burned with a cold light as his incense was rapidly sacrificed to his god. His body began to glow as the various tattoos energized from the gathering magics. His scriptures unfurling and floating behind him like writhing tentacles.
His eyes focused on the fleeing man as his lips spoke out a prayer of death. It was these moment’s that Khul felt close with his divine patron. That thin line between life and death, one wrong word and the magic could backfire. He repeated the prayer over and over. His sect was built on ritual and sacrifice. Each subsequent repetition is harder to perform but amplifies the effects. Halfway through the third prayer; his mouth was dry, his lips chapped, His mind struggling to force out the next word, and his body quaking from the gathering energy. Most could only perform a twice chanted prayer, but Khul refused to be average. He had to shout the last bits, enduring the pain rippling through his arm. With the spell primed, he took one last look at the man.
“Goodbye Steve, I shall ask for Deas to spare you the worst” and he fired.
Ryland felt something primal bubbling within. An intense sense of doom intertwined with fear. The only other time he’d experienced this was at his death. It was a sense of wrongness, a horrific feeling warping the brain. He knew he had to react, whether he died from the spell or from using up his life essence–he was a goner. Stealing the last bits of energy from his body, he forced himself to set up.
“What the…” he was awestruck by the raging magic on display.
A swirling vortex of negative energy warping the air before him. The antithesis of life coalescing into a writhing mass of filth. A goopy, heavy sludge that dripped from the Cleric’s hand, tainting the ground below. Slowly, the tarry substance shifted and hardened. He watched as the man struggled to contain the raging energy. But a second later it was done. A deep void held by his palm, it wasn’t a thing of darkness but the essence of nothing. With a flick, the bolt of negative energy shot forth. A jagged void traced the path leaving behind artificial darkness. A creeping frost stretched across the ground as the spell absorbed the warmth of the realm. He knew who the target was and had to make a decision.
“Thanks for trying Steve…I hope to see you in the next life” he muttered
With the last bits of strength, Ryland lept from the cart and into the spell's path. The sphere of negative light engulfing his body and cutting him from this world. Yet…he didn’t perish. Instead, he felt the essence of death filling his very soul. What took life only served to help his, it was as if he was back in the cave…only stronger. His nearly translucent body solidified once more, his pool of energy rapidly filling with the lingering magics. His mind cleared, his lethargy faded, and his skin gained color once more. But it was becoming too much, he could feel his very soul being torn apart by the overflowing might. Quickly using his new skill, he redirected the remnants into his body. The zombie greedly siphoned the dark magic to repair itself. The muscles regrow, the rot fading, and a surge of strength causing it to bust through the container with ease. His body never looked better, Not a single hint of rot touched the flesh. With the last bits absorbed, Ryland turned to look back at the priest. Clearly the man wasn’t prepared for THIS and stood there in complete shock.
“THAT’S RIGHT CAN’T BEAT US!” He flicked off the Cleric, laughing at the failed shot.
But Ryland forgot about one thing, he and his body were connected. In his moment of triumph he shot backwards. His ghostly form bounced along the ground as the cart made its escape. He tried to call out for Steve to stop, but the [[Friend of the Dead]] cared about his own life more than a bobbing spirit. He was tethered to the zombie whether he wanted it or not.
Khul just stood in the darkness processing what happened. Even in the darkness, his enhanced vision easily tracked the wagon. But what stopped the spell? It appeared to hit a wall of air…but in the last moments he could have sworn there was a vaguely humanoid shape. Whatever that man was hiding he’d never encountered before. As he walked back to town a grin stretched across his face. He’d remember Steve, but for now there was a [[Necromancer]] to attend too. He knew they’d meet again and this time, he would be much more prepared. The strands of fate were strange, but where death walked; He was sure to follow.