He winced and stayed perfectly still. I slapped the roosters away from the lad. The roosters attempted to attack me, but a few well placed kicks sent the overzealous monstrosities away. The hen I left where she was. I could already tell she had a clutch of eggs laid in that helmet. She wasn’t going to be doing anything aggressive as long as nobody tried to attack her. I saw Bozo looking at the helmet and didn’t have the heart to tell him that piece of armor was as good as gone.
“I see you got your farm growing!” Ursula observed as she caught sight of us. “I was wondering where you both were.”
She bent to grab one of the brains and broke it off at the base of the stem where it met the main plant. She took a bite from the pink flesh with relish. She caught Bozo’s disgusted expression. “Oh, don’t act so repulsed. You lot eat the muscles of animals, put their bones into soup for stock and it is all normal as long as you’re doing it. Do you think the cows are all excited that you are dining on their family?”
Harquin popped out from a crypt he had been hiding in to take one of the brain stems for himself, Ursula slapped his hand and put her broadsword against his throat “Somebody forgot to mention there were Red Slashers here.”
“An innocent mistake.” He gulped, feeling the warm metal start to turn his skin to ash.
I sat down beside Bozo, picked up the helmet with the hen inside and placed it on my lap “That should have been reported to the Bone Order as soon as the Red Slashers showed their boney heads in this Necropolis.” I gently stroked the hen’s feathers as I looked at the Crypt Butcher “Judging by the amount we just fought they have been here at least…” I paused doing the calculations “What do you think, Ursula. A year?”
“Oh, three at least. The two I fought had resistance to my stars, they also didn’t burn from my daylight. That resistance takes a long time for them to gain. Lots of mortals they would have to eat.”
Bozo nodded in agreement “Maybe more like ten. Mine was barely bothered by my magic. Should have turned to dust with my first attack. Only reason I’m alive is because those chickens popped into existence. They took one look at the Red Slasher and attacked with claws and beaks and wings. Total bloodbath. There were twenty chickens originally. Just these ones left.”
“Did they now?” I shot the chickens a curious glance. I hadn’t realized they had that sort of strength, three whole survivors should have been impossible. I looked at the flesh, bone and visceral strewn among the foliage and stone. That was unexpected. One of the roosters flapped up beside Bozo and proceeded to climb up his shirt onto his shoulder. Once it was perched it screeched again into his ear. I sharply rapped a knuckle on his beak “Knock it off, or I’m having rooster stew tonight.”
The chicken looked offended and fluffed his feathers before settling down on the knight’s shoulder.
“Um, can you take that sword off my throat?” Harquin asked, the skin had started to burn and flake around the sword, and his eyes had started to turn milky white. “It wasn’t my place to report the Red Slashers. The local magistrate was supposed to do it.”
“Oh, it wasn’t your responsibility.” Ursula’s voice was accommodating.
“Yes, yes. If it was I would have reported it right away.” Harquin said in a rush. I held my breath as Ursula withdrew her broadsword from his neck shrugged, it was casual, relaxed.
I could feel the danger in the air. “Ursula.” I warned, “I need him alive to find out about Bozo’s classmates.”
Harquin jumped backwards, his eyes darting between me and Ursula, uncertainty written in his eyes as they changed back to their normal dark color. “I didn’t tell you once you got here because I thought you wouldn’t help. Everyone else has just turned a blind eye to them. Wandering Grave Guards and everyone else just made a point to avoid the necropolis when they visited. I thought you all already knew and didn’t care! When you didn’t mention the Red Slashers I figured maybe they hadn’t told you lot. And well… thought maybe with a Wight in tow you would take care of them if you were forced to.”
I shared a look with the Plain One and tapped my skull “With that train of logic it makes sense. Can’t fault him.”
“No, I can’t.” she turned towards the relaxing Harquin. “Any other little surprises you want to tell us about? Because if we get another surprise I will not be so forgiving.”
The Crypt Butcher shot a look at her broadsword blade and paled “Oh, well. In that case you may want to sit down, there is a bit more you may want to know.”
-
Laslilus caught my calloused hand at the door. Her hands weren’t soft like told in stories of her in the city of snow. Hers were softer than mine, but there was still some roughness to them. She worked as hard (or harder) than the farmhands on our large farm. Her grip stopped me.
“Please.” That single word almost turned me back. Almost made me stay home, crawl into bed with her and fall asleep with her head on my chest.
“It’ll only be for a few hours. Find the lich shove a spear in his chest and back home before noon.” I promised making an effort to sound carefree, squeezing her hand gently. And I turned back to look at her. It was just a small thing. She had long dark hair; tied in a braid and then pinned to the top of her head. Beautiful yet rugged. Strong but soft. My mouth quirked slightly, hinting at a grin. She caught the facial tick, grabbed the collar of my shirt peeking up from the armor and pulled me in for a kiss. She had to lean down slightly to do it. I only let it last for a moment, taking her hand and gently unclenching it from the fabric. I looked in her eyes and saw an uncertainty that was alien to her face. I smiled, pushed a few stray hairs from her face and tucked them behind her ear as I promised again. “Only a few hours, hun. And then this nightmare will all be done. I promise.”
Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.
She pulled me in and gave me a kiss on my cheek as she whispered something that kept me going after all these years. I held my breath waiting to hear them.
There was a blood curdling screech in my ear.
I jolted awake to lay a haymaker of a punch into the face of the rooster screaming atop my chest. The bird went flying with a loud squawking and flapping of wings. Molding feathers floating in the air around me as I shook the dream from my mind. Ursula was still standing in the same place she had been all night. Like the others of the Bone Order, she didn’t sleep. Didn’t need to breathe or eat. She still did all those things, simply because she enjoyed the luxury.
I shot her a glare “You let him do that!” my tone accusing.
“It seemed funny.” Her tone was lighter than it had been recently. Her bubbly personality returning.
Brushing the black feathers from my shoulder I stood up and stretched. I shook my straw hat and placed it upon my head as I surveyed the farm still forming from the pumpkin seed I had planted in the raised coffin yesterday. “Someone is more chipper today.”
“You finally used your powers, so I am feeling a modicum of silliness is appropriate.” The rooster wobbled over to her and made a series of hissing words to her. She leaned down to speak with him.
“Stupid birds only ever talk to you.” I grumbled. A shovel formed of bones sprouted in my hand at a thought, and I started to dig up and move various necrotic plants around; like all plants they were fickle, some needing more sun than others, some needing to be planted in a coffin vs a mausoleum. I could create them and mutate them but there were still requirements of environment that I couldn’t breed out of the derned things.
"There is a simple reason they don't talk to you." Ursula looked at me blithely “It’s cause you’re a surly old skeleton that punts them across the farm.”
“You are a bit of a grouch.” Bozo agreed, the smaller rooster following on his heels,.
My hat fell forward as I was jarred hitting a rock with my shovel. “We’ve known each other for less than a week. You haven’t known me long enough to say that.” I said with a hint of humor in my voice as I adjusted the scratchy hat then worked the offending rock out of the way to continue digging the hole for the Ossis vine.
“It’s only after you’ve made a successful murder attempt on Elric that you can call him surly.” Ursula advised. She watched the birds circling Bozo. “I think these chickens have picked you as their new favorite. Though you could probably use a break.” She called the roosters over to her and went into one of her deep conversations with them. I still didn’t get why they would only talk to her. They clearly could understand me and Bozo.
I returned to my gardening and completed the task in silence, placing a skull at the bottom of the small pit and placed the tiny seedling atop it. Then poured the dirt pack in and left only a tiny sprig jutting up above the tight packed earth. Another few hours of this type of work and everything was more organized and sorted. “There, that should do it for the start of this Gloom farm. Now just give it a month or two and you should have three to fifteen acres of necrotic veggies to feed any undead in the region.”
“Much appreciated.” Harquin answered from his seat in the branches of a small Blood Creeper sapling. He waved a slip of paper in the air. “As promised I got you a name.”
“And?” I asked.
“Apparently the cloaked figure that has been luring people to their deaths is none other than Warren.”
I exchanged a look with Ursula. In unison we both said “Warren?”
“Yep, Warren. It took quite a bit of work to find that info.” Harquin added. “He has been incredibly clever with hiding his tracks, exterminating anybody that he spoke with mortal or undead alike. A subtle master of subterfuge.”
Ursula spoke first “Warren doesn’t do clever. Or subtle. He’s about as subtle as a punch to the nose.”
“Agreed.” I muttered rubbing my chin thoughtfully, a piece of skin and muscle peeled away with the gesture. I looked at it for a moment before tossing it to the ground. The chickens raced over to fight over who got to eat it. Bozo turned an interesting shade of green and looked away. “Welp, if it’s Warren we just gotta storm his stronghold and kick his beak in a few times.”
The Plain One wasn’t so convinced “I agree on kicking his beak in, but we may need to wipe all his simulacrum out, if he is getting this power hungry it may require burying him in a deep grave.” She tucked the hen in the helmet under her arm. “Bozo, you and I are going to work on your fighting technique and teach you some different magic; it’s useless against Warren. And it’s obvious you aren’t going to be able to use any of your goldie magic for the next few months.”
The Knight raised a questioning eyebrow “How’d you know that?”
“Oh, please.” The woman of the Bone Order quipped “You’d been storing up that magic reserve for months. It was clear to everyone that saw you. And your magic artifacts were practically sparkling with light. You are fully tapped out.”
The blonde blushed “I can still fight. Even without my magic.”
“That’s why I’m going to teach you some stuff.” The undead woman responded as she grabbed her broadsword and nodded her chin towards an open area among the graves. “Come on. We gotta leave the farmer to his Gloom farm anyways. He has to move that outhouse and move the seedling foundation for the new farmhouse. Otherwise it is gonna grow crooked, ruin the beds and kitchen and displace the rows of all the nice little plants that he just setup.”
I turned my back towards them and faced the outhouse and said with a patient voice that once reserves for sheep that are adamant about running headfirst into fences, “Okay buddy, let’s get you moved before you start planting roots.”
-
The trek out of the city and into the undead territory was mostly uneventful. ‘Mostly uneventful’ because the new undead chickens refused to leave Bozo’s side. Despite all of Ursula’s arguments and coaxing. They had decided that Bozo was their mother and they were not about to let mother dearest go to a battle without them at his side. I was amused. Ursula was delighted and best of all Bozo was displeased. He was even less pleased when he discovered that he had to carry them out of the city gate. The hen hidden in his helmet beneath his cloak. One rooster hidden within his pack and the other hidden behind his shield. He was grumbling the entire way.
Once outside of the city we paused to let Bozo evict the birds from his person.
Ursula asked me in a quiet voice “Why aren’t we leaving the kid behind. I like him but I don’t want to endanger him by taking him into a slaughterhouse with Warren and his armies.”
My voice was as gravely as ever. “Harquin said that Warren’s been killing mortals, if we leave our knight in shiny armor he will likely be dead before the sun sets.”
“Fair point.” She relented.
I adjusted the straps on my pack and added. “Besides if I leave him be then that stupid epic quest is going to happen and I’m—”
“--going to miss harvest season.” Ursula interrupted as she rolled her eyes. “There is more to life than thwarting quests and farming, Elric.”
“Shut thy mouth, thou sacrilegious heathen!”