Chapter 43) Puppet Master. Or, Same story, different dead guy.

I drifted back towards the rear of the group. “You want to take this Matt? Seems executivish.”

He shot me an annoyed look, but he nodded. Stabbing his spear into the ground he left it behind as he took a few steps away from the rest of us, and bowed.

After a moment, the dead man waved his hand at our spokesperson. "You may raise your head and speak."

Matt swallowed nervously, then looked up. “I would guess people on this world don’t have skin as dark as Josh, or any people here called Moors.”

The crowned skeleton went stiff for a moment, then clenched its fist. "You are from my home then. England by the words you use underneath the translation magic. But so changed, I nearly don’t recognize it.”

Our guy started to speak, then hesitated a moment. "A colony of England, now its own nation. How long has it been since you came here?"

The Dark lady laughed, in a tone that held no humor, only cruelty.

The master of the undead waved his hand at her, no, at the birds above her which suddenly burst into motion, leaving her exposed to the sun again. Instead of fleeing for cover, she just stood there for a moment as her flesh burned then lifted the edge of her dress into a curtsy.

I whispered, "No love lost there huh?"

Josh tried to turn Drew away from the smoking hot undead girl, but he pulled himself free from the larger man and watched her burn with a fascinated look on his face.

Yeah, I don’t want to know what’s going on in his head.

The Liche began to speak again. “I was pulled to this world in the year of our Lord fifteen ninety eight, I had hoped that somehow the years may have passed slower back home and I could somehow return to life and go home, but that was never more than a forlorn hope…”

“Speak without fear living man. Tell me how long.”

Drew whispered, "That was what she said."

Matt stood up straighter. “Over four hundred years sir. My condolences.”

The Liche went still for a long moment and then sighed.

"Tell me, how do men of England come to this otherworldly shore, I know you were not called by the King. He has other duties these days than ruling and stealing away men from their homes."

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The dark lady laughed again, her voice giving out on her after a moment as the deep burns in her skin finally reached deep enough into her chest that she wasn't airtight anymore.

The birds flocked above her again to shield her from the sun as she collapsed to the ground, nearly covered by a dense tangle of her long hair.

Matt gave her a nervous glance before snapping his head over to the lord of the city.

“We died sir, and were told we had to pay a debt. But Tex can explain this better since he heard it first hand.”

He stepped aside and gestured at me.

I hissed at him. "Thanks a lot, Matt."

He whispered back, “You’re the Guide for us dead people. He qualifies, so guide him.”

I drifted forward in the air and began to explain.

The Liche leaned back in his throne and sat then motionless as I nattered on, desperately offering up more and more minor details as took it all in without a word.

Finally, another skeleton in plain blackened armor stepped forward, rubbing at the front of its helmet with one bony hand.

It spoke in the same voice as the Liche, “I am Fortune’s fool.”

Then raised it its fists into the air, and screamed.

And nearly every other skeleton around us did the same, and from the sound of it all throughout the city as well. At least the fists raised part, some of the rest either lacked voices or weren't under the Liche's control.

I think people have been getting screwed over by the gods for quite some time. But then if we owed a debt since our creators made Earth, than every single person who had ever been born must have been stuck paying off the debt since forever.

There must have been interest too, that’s where they get you.

The skeleton soldier dropped to his knees as the crowned one's hands fell limp at its side, along with all the rest of them that now stood motionless.

Then the one in the black armor who I was guessing was the real Liche began to speak again.

“It was a cycle. The Lord of Darkness would summon his champion who would slowly build up his forces all unopposed by the nations which bickered and fought against each other until he and his hordes began to gobble them up one by one. Then the Lady of Life, the Lord of Darkness’s own sister would call her Champion of Life to bring the Champion of the Dark down and take over the rulership of the survivors as one people united in her faith.”

“Until they once against grew in numbers and split apart, so corrupted by self interest and their loss of faith that they would allow another Dark Lord to rise and continue the cycle.”

He looks up at the slowly healing princess. "Her father claimed to want to break the cycle. Instead of marrying me to his daughter, and naming me his heir, he claimed that I sought to take the Dark Lord's place and cut my throat himself in front of the people I had fought so hard and so long to save... and they cheered.”

The Liche slowly stood up. “It was all just a game between two gods, but the cycle was forever broken, with one of them leaving the playing field. I had thought she was just bored with her game…”

He clenched his fists. “But now I find out she just started a new game… And made me part a part of it... Used again.”

Slowly he began to turn in place, locking gazes with the Princess, the armored gaunt figure who had rode us down with his flaming sword, the dead man from the mansion, and all the others who stood there staring back at him. Here under their own free will rather than being puppets of the Liche.

“And none of you bothered to tell me… Betrayed once again.”

The flaming sword guy stepped forward. “We owed you nothing Terrance. You have held us here in endless torment, trapped in forever rotting flesh while letting the souls of the others you trapped dream of their lives even as their remains wandered the streets.”

Its shoulders slumped. “This… Secret. It was our only way to defy you. Our rebellion. But now that you know… what else can you possibly do to us?”

The Liche turned to the undead standing at his back.

“You never did have faith in my creativity Elker.”

He beckoned at us, all of us, over his shoulder. "Everyone with an interest in ending this. Follow me.”

Down the winding path, my three guys walked along with several dozen dead men and women, giving them nervous glances. But the dead hardly paid attention to them.

A few random living people wandering around their city was something they had gotten used to. Whatever the Liche was up to was at least something new.

Through the upper city, and past the gatehouse. Down the steers and avenues of the lower city, and right up the grounds of the Temple of the Goddess of Life.

The Liche came to a stop. “I have not been here since the day after I died. I wanted to see if it was true that she was gone.”

He stepped through the open gateway.

“Let us see this portal.”