Ehrir was starting to get creeped out by the blind man’s unseeing gaze. It was fixated on him for the last ten minutes now. He couldn’t call the man out for it – he was doing it unconsciously, after all. But it still made him shiver.
The Undone One stood with his back against the wall of Ostrias’ building at the shore. The place’s innards were well-lit and cozy, especially the living room which he was in. Green flames danced within the fireplace, creating figures and whole battle scenes under the Ashen Gaze’s control.
Ehrir, along with his fellow apprentices, were positioned in one end of the vast living room. On the other werethe group of strange looking people under the witch’s wing. Between those two parties stood a table with three richly ornamented chairs around it. Upon them sat Sevrian, Ostrias and the witch – Salelia. They were discussing the possible path to Tarha-Nan for some good hour and a half now. Ehrir could barely stand their complicated, unending chatter. He led the witch here, but hadn’t done anything much since. He was more or less forced to stay silent during all this time (except for the occasional whispers between him and Nalia). Boredom had already overtaken him. He longed for the vastness and freedom of the fields and the time sinks which his training sessions with the magical sword quickly turned into. Hell, reading the damned tome of transmogrification was more enjoyable than this… Except for the headaches.
He spent some time gazing at the witch’s apprentices during the last hour, but he got disinterested with them after in the end.
Even so, the disciples were a unique bunch. The albino and the tattoo-covered girl were the least bizarre amongst them. The blind old man’s face was tickly covered in scars, along with at least his arms up to the elbows, as everything else was hidden by his clothes. The disturbing marks were definitely made with the same weapon, as they had the same texture, depth and width. The other disciples consisted of an extraordinarily tall man that could barely stand upfront within the room and a bald youngling no older than sixteen that had scars from brandings all over him. His ears were covered in more earrings than Ehrir could count and he had dozens of piercings on his nose, eyebrows and lips.
Still, that made up to just five people overall. The Undone One didn’t know if he could even refer to the other two as people.
They were non-humans.
The first one was a member of the ratkin – short, skinny and mice-like creatures with red eyes and grey hair all over them. The thing had the ability to speak human language and to wear suitable clothes. It could even to hold a walking staff properly despite the three fingers with long claws on its hands. Its massive front pair of teeth could probably bite off a finger or two without problem.
The other non-human… He was truly freaky in many kinds of ways. His appearance was previously obscured by a long dark-grey cloak and hood that drowned his face in darkness. But once they got inside Ostrias’ building, he took it off and revealed a really grotesque sight.
The man’s face was half-rotten and his dried eyeballs could barely stay inside their sockets. His ears, lips, nose and eyelids were missing and his bare skull was bald. His flesh was dried and the stench of death didn’t emanate from him (surprisingly). Only his vaguely male physique suggested the presence of a gender. Sevrian informed Ehrir that this… creature belonged to the race of the Unliving. They were animated corpses, result of a failed experiment of the most powerful non-human race – the goliaths – in the days of old. The older race managed to somehow affix the soul to an already dead body, but the result was far too unsatisfying for them to continue doing the process. Because of that they left the small amount of Unliving to live by themselves outside the borders of their empires.
Yet, the corpse standing at the opposite end of the room wasn’t from this first generation of Unliving. The ritual to create such things wasn’t lost through the centuries. It was actually memorized and passed down within the race through the millennia. As the Unliving’s appearance seemed mostly human, he was likely created during the current era. And probably in the last decades, too, as the older ones of his kind rarely served under anyone.
The old man bombarded Ehrir with this kind of information in the matter of minutes.
“What a fascinating group of weirdos, right?” whispered Nalia. She was still staring at the Unliving with eyes full of amazement.
“I couldn’t have said it better myself”, murmured Varhel and then sank in silence.
Fortunately, the discussion between the three wizards soon came to a close... Sort of. Ehrir felt like he could fall in slumber, but it happened just in time for him to retain consciousness.
“You can wake up, young people”, said Ostrias loudly while smiling. “The old people finally finished their stupid blabber, am I right?”
His words invoked some smiles and giggles from the two groups of apprentices. Even the humanoid rat grinned. It was a creepy sight.
“Be at ease – I won’t make you stand here any longer”, added the Ashen Gaze cheerfully. “Go and rest now. Your masters will say the important things to you. I want you to be out of this place by tomorrow morning. You have matters to attend you and I'll be more than happy if you succeed as soon as possible."
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Sevrian and the witch just nodded to last sentence and left the room after bowing to their master. Their disciples followed them in silence, as the two groups awkwardly exchanged glances. Once outside they separated quickly after the old man and Salelia said their goodbyes.
“You weren’t lying when you said that her apprentices are a bizarre bunch, master”, exclaimed Varhel when they returned to their own stone cube.
“Her previous ones were the same kind of people… Easily sticking out in the crowd. She seems to like being surrounded by such types of humans... and non-humans, too.” Sevrian shrugged his shoulders. “I can’t understand it personally, but… Who am I to judge?”
At the point of time the sun was already hanging lower and lower in the heavens, obscured by legions of steel clouds. Only vague hints of light suggested its position, but darkness would soon rise from the east and embrace the world. This was the last day in the camp and the Undone One knew it well. But he didn’t know what to make of the remaining hours until going to sleep, except for dining.
Well, this time the answer found him by surprise.
***
“I know it was a bit sudden, elder Sevrian… But you don’t have anything against it, do you?”
“No. And don’t call me elder. I’m just about twenty years older than you, despite my appearance.”
“Yes, yes… I guess that the blood of the Inner Fantasy is a precious gift, really…”
The chatter between Salelia and the old man sounded so ordinary (if one was familiar with magic and its basics) that it was almost hilarious at times.
Ehrir yawned. He was in a (previously) empty cubical building that wasn’t divided into rooms. Now it was well-lit, warm and full of people. Both the apprentices of the witch and Sevrian were here, along with the two sorcerers. There were several tables covered with food and bottles of alcohol, a couple of sofas (not looking very comfortable and probably made with Manipulation) and half a dozen chairs. Most of them were occupied, but a few of the disciples (including Ehrir) preferred to stand around.
This whole meeting was organized by Salelia in an attempt to ‘bring our parties closer to one another’, as she stated herself. It was going quite nicely for Nalia – she was already engaged in a dialogue with the branded boy and the tattooed girl, along with the unnaturally tall man. The albino was focused on eating and drinking booze, but he was also in a deep discussion with the ratman. Varhel himself was exchanging some sentences with the blind man. Ehrir could understand why the young man preferred the mutilated elder to talk with. The scars on his neck and arms were similar in nature to that of the witch’s disciple, albeit slightly different.
As for Ehrir… He didn’t really know how to engage in a talk with any of these people. They seemed just a little bit too strange for him to be confident in such a situation. Their mannerisms, gestures, way if talking and even poses... They were all bizarre. Regardless of that, he would butt in just for the sake of it. But all the people around seemed so deeply sunk in their own discussions that he didn’t dare to do it.
Then, for good or bad, his eyes accidentally met those of the Unliving, who seemed disinterested in everything going around. And yet, the creature quickly walked towards him afterwards. The Undone One couldn’t guess his intentions – emotions couldn’t be shown on that decayed face with the barely hidden skull beneath it.
“Why aren’t you talking with everyone else?” he asked. His voice was barely understandable, but his dried-up tongue still managed to produce words. He spoke in a quiet, almost whisper-like manner.
“I don’t really know.” Ehrir swallowed up the disgust welling in his throat. The memories of the corpses scattered across the meadow where he first awakened returned and the urge to throw up rose. Fortunately, he managed to stay mostly calm on the outside and fend off his memories. Still, he had to make some kind of excuse for the not very talkative behavior.
“I don’t really know what to do in such a crowded place and with whom to talk.”
“Well… I can’t say that I’m very experienced, either.” Strange sounds came from the Unliving’s throat, like he was choking on something. Was that supposed to be a laugh? “I stand out, but not in a good way. My friends over there and my master are the only ones I communicate with… Why don’t you know what to do?” He went silent for a second. “Oh, excuse me. I know it’s a rude question. But you seem like a good man. Hell, you aren’t hostile towards me and I’m… very unique. You should be mighty fine at creating friends. You look well, too.”
“I wasn’t always a well-looking man.” Ehrir’s brows furrowed. The undead man was definitely quick to jump to conclusions, but that wasn’t the most spectacular thing about him. Obviously. “I actually lived on the streets for long amounts of time. That's not the best place to become a smooth talker." Why was he telling him all of this bullshit?
“Oh… That seems tough. I’ve never been on the streets myself… At least in life. After I became as I am now… Well, let’s say I had some lows in my… should I call it an unlife?”
Those words got a slight smirk out of the Undone One. The zombie was... surprisingly cheerful for someone in his situation.
"So you had a normal life some time back?"
"Yeah." The Unliving shrugged his bony shoulders. "I would've set myself on fire a long time ago if it wasn't for my comrades and the pleasant memories from before my body became a pile of rotting flesh."
That sounds grim, thought Ehrir. But he pushed on and continued talking, changing the subject. Soon he and the Unliving man were in a deep dialogue and quickly got to know each other. The name of the zombie was Zaster and he seemed to like drinking wine (although he couldn't really feel the taste of it nor the alcohol's effects), reading poetry and wearing fine cloaks. At the end of the night, when the two groups of apprentices went their ways, the Undone One and Zaster separated with a friendly handshake. Ehrir could sense the coldness of the man's touch through his silk gloves.
Even in his wildest dreams he couldn't predict about getting to know a living corpse.
The beginning of his journey was coming. On the next morning they were to finally head towards Tarha-Nan.