Rise of the Dead Prince (27 page)

“Not remotely! Meier, this is all very
…
weird stuff. It’s outside the scope of raven knowledge, and that means that almost no one knows it, if anyone. You are completely unique, Meier, and the things you have done are quite possibly things that have never been done before. Do you understand how incredibly important tha
t is?”

Meier just shrugged. He had no real comment. Dor sighed. Something was bothering him. “Raven, I think we may be losing sight of somethin’ important here,” he said. “Knowledge for its own sake is all fine and good, but we got us a job to do out here.” Raven clicked his beak indigna
ntly.

“Now don’t take offense there, Raven,” said Trent. “We all want to understand things happenin’ out here, but that don’t alter the fact that we got to stop what’s ahead, else none of the knowledge will matter anyhow.” Raven clicked at him as well. Did he have no allies in this camp of he
roes?

“Don’t you want all these deeds recorded and understood for those who go after you? A raven never forgets, you know. You all will be immortalized!” Raven said emphatically. Meier chuckled. The others exchanged glances as well. They were thinking the same thing, but Trent said it f
irst.

“We done died once already. Anything we got now is a gratuity. Can’t be goin’ around trying to make history like some self-serving narcissist when there’s work needs doing.” Meier and Dor nodded in agreement. Raven looked at them and just sighed. His own ego disallowed the belief that anyone would willingly deny eternal fame by being intentionally negligent in the recording of vital f
acts.

“Humans,” he said with an exasperated shrug. Meier took a deep breath and let it
out.

“Shall we carry on until dark?” he asked. Dor nodded. Trent just started walking southeast, stopping to grab another two-handed sword from a skeleton, giving him a total of two. He flicked them through the air as though he was waving f
lags.

“Let’s go on and go if we’re goin’,” said Dor with a s
mile.

“You know what I’m gonna to do come dark?” asked Trent. He then answered. “I’m gonna to make us a big ol’ fire. Let ’em come on and get us. I reckon we can take a bunch.” The other two men laughed and agreed with Trent’s inten
tion.

36
Sins of the Father

L
otho and the others came to a general consensus that it was best go until dark then wait through the night before attacking their quarry. The enemy was still perceptive during the night, and whatever it was they were tracking was something they hadn’t seen yet. Theories abounded, and these were shared among them. Lotho and Bain had started a chain reaction. The men were now more connected as a whole. Each man had a name. They had just let themselves forget them in the face of certain destruction. There was still nowhere to go but forward. The plan changed. There would be no more fighting as a scattered and sundered force. If they wanted to get as far as they could, they would fight as a team. They were the last of the Karavunians, after all. No more were coming. They knew they were going to certain doom, but they had accepted this when they set out. They often joked about the difference that twenty-one could make. It became a contest to see how much they could do before the end. They had all proven themselves a hundred times over. Each man knew that the man beside him was capable and ironclad. It made it much easier to trust each other and think like a team. In part, it was the respect they had for each other’s ability that had finally had united them. Warriors such as these were of the rarest kind. It had all started with a laugh. And so they had marched on toward the dark call. It had to be impor
tant.

The cry had gone for miles in all directions, and while they knew what basic direction it had come from, they could not be precise. They spread out like a net to find the source. They moved as quickly and quietly as they could until the sun started to fade. They crossed several sentries, and these were eradicated with such alacrity and ease that it bordered on pathetic. The dead were behaving strangely. They came across a band of around twenty armored bonewalkers that seemed to be wandering around aimlessly. What followed wasn’t even remotely fair. The Karavunians charged in, and before the skeletons could even hiss and advance, half of them were missing arms and the other half had been snapped like branches by Bain and the other big men. The assault took under a minute to resolve. It made a lot of noise, but not nearly as much as it should have. No Karavunians were killed or wou
nded.

“Too easy,” said Bain laconically. The others nodded and kept moving. That was when it happened. They heard a massive rustling in the distance and then a soft wind hit them. They looked in the direction it had come from. The green men looked at the sky. There were no clouds above the canopy. Somehow they simply knew it. They looked at the others and shook their heads. This was no s
torm.

The sharpest eyed among them looked ahead with a slight squint. He turned to face the rest, who were also looking ahead, but then they all turned to him. The man’s name was Jax, but the men had taken to calling him “Strafer” or “Strafer Jax,” owing to the rhyme another man had coined, “the Strafer makes ’em pay from long and far away.” He was a bowman and a deadly accurate long shot, but his bow had been broken in one of the fights, and he had yet to find a replacement. They were not much good against armored skeletons an
yway.

“There’s a pinch of light from a hole in the roof. Sun’s coming down through it. Downed tree maybe. Not sure,” he said without breaking his gaze. He then pointed, and together they m
oved.

The wind suddenly came again, stronger than before. It blew hair back and moved leaves. It kept coming for a short while. They exchanged glances and smiled. It was cover noise, and they would use it. They started to lightly run forward to take full advantage. Another blast of wind passed, harder and longer than the others. They ran faster. Lotho ran past a
strigoi
sentry and gave it the knife without even slowing down. The others just looked over at him, and a round of light laughter went out. The men had made fun of his dagger sidearm on several occasions. Useless weight, they had said. “Well, I carried it all this way,” he had replied. After his effortless dispatching of the
strigoi
, he held the dagger up triumphantly as he ran, as if to throw the joke back at
them.

Once the wind died down, they slowed to a more practical speed. In the waning hours of the day, they came upon the source of the winds at last. What they found was puzzling to say the least. More than puzzling. It was unfathomable. The Karavunians studied the scene a dozen times before discussing it. They saw the scattered remains of the dead everywhere. They saw the trench, and Strafer confirmed that it went well beyond his ability to see. He saw chunks missing from the trees as well as several that had fallen. The leaves were all blasted away from what had to have been the source of the winds they had felt. One of the trackers came for
ward.

“A lot of movement right near the center. Two lying down, and one
…
kneeling. They got up, walked around, then took off southeast,” he said, pointing to the trail. The other green men agreed. One posited his addi
tion.

“Something weird here,” he said, looking a set of tiny marks in the ground. “Looks like a bird
…
hopped around? I don’t know,” he said. Lotho looked at the tracks left by R
aven.

“Pretty big bird. Doesn’t seem right. We haven’t heard a bird call since we got here.” They all agreed that they hadn’t heard anything ei
ther.

“Magic,” said Bain, nodding. No one had a better explanation. What else could it have
been?

“Look at this,” said Jax, holding up matching pieces of plate armor. “Clean through. No nicks, no bends. Just clean through.” Lotho took the pieces and held them together. A perfect fit. No weapon he knew of could have made such a
cut.

“Definitely magic. So it is real after all. Not that the dead hadn’t proven that already.” The men looked to where the tracks
led.

“What does it mean?” asked one of the soldiers. Bain spok
e up.

“Looks like we have an enemy of our enemy just ahead, and a powerful one.” Lotho scrutinized the area for the twentieth time. He was thinking
hard.

“Problem is that they might be, and probably are, just as bad as the enemy. Might be even worse. Can’t see how all this magic would be a good thing.” The others agreed. There was no way to
know.

“Magic destroyed Karavunia. I won’t ever trust it,” said one of the green
men.

“Agreed,” said a soldier. There were nods of assent on all sides. Strafer Jax spoke up a
gain.

“Don’t know who they are. Or what. But they did a lot of damage. I say we follow them. See what we can see.” Lotho looked ar
ound.

“Sounds good to me,” he said, putting the sundered armor down in the mud. He shook his head at it in disbelief. It was incredible. The men seemed to be in agreement with what Jax had
said.

They set out down the trail that the three men had left for them. They caught up just after dark had fallen and they were about to stop for the night. Strafer kept trying to put off making camp, all the while wearing his far-gazing stare. The light had failed, but there was a dim glow from the canopy that could only have been cast by a full, clear moon. Then he saw them. More specifically, he saw their fire, far, far ahead. Once it grew, the other men saw it as
well.

The group was divided. Some felt they should get closer and learn what they could that night. Others thought it best to stay where they were and not take the chance of being discovered in the night when they might be at a disadvantage. It was a pretty even split. The men looked to Lotho. He was genuinely baffled b
y it.

“Go or stay? Up to you,” said Jax in his typically terse manner. Lotho shook his head and laughed exasperat
edly.

“I’m not in charge any more than you are, Strafer, or anyone else. I don’t care what anyone else says about who I am or what honor I’m due. Those things don’t matter now. Twenty-one of us? Let’s vote and then go or stay as a group.” The men looked quietly amused but then nodded and proceeded to
vote.

“First to eleven wins it then,” said Bain. Hands were raised and counted for each option. “Twelve to go, nine to stay,” he said at last. Strafer started moving forward as quietly as a jungle cat on the prowl. The others followed
him.

“Let me get close. If they see, we’ll know,” said Strafer. At his behest, the others fell back and let him lead. Once Strafer got close enough to see what he needed, he motioned the others up. He got down on his stomach and crawled a dozen paces or so forward. All followed his lead. No one else could make out as much as he could, but they all saw a couple of interesting th
ings.

“They look like normal folks to me,” whispered Lotho. Strafer shushed him gently. He put his hand to his ear and pointed to the camp. Lotho nodded. Silly mistake. If they were anything like skeletons, they’d hear even that whi
sper.

Meanwhile, Meier, Dor, and Trent were shooting the breeze. Raven was trying in vain to sleep, despite their promise to be as quiet as poss
ible.

“This here strength is downright handy,” said Dor, motioning to the giant fire. He was referring to the acquisition of firewood that Trent had essentially invented some hour or so earlier. All the branches of the surrounding trees were too high to chop off. Trent took a couple of looks; and then with a massive throw of his sword, end over end, the branch was hacked cleanly off. The only problem was finding the sword, because it most certainly did not stop at the branch. Once that was done, he repeated the gesture a few more times at a better angle and with less force. It took a few aims on each branch to hit it just right. Trent was no knife thrower. In any case, once the branches were all downed, Dor took over with his hatchet and made the pile in no time flat. Meier made the fire but had a hard time propping the large logs. Couldn’t he have given himself peerless strength? In any case, the men sat around the fire and idly cha
tted.

“I reckon we won’t ever feel the heat off a fire like we used to, eh, Meier?” asked Trent. Meier shook his
head.

“No, I don’t suppose we will. Good thing we don’t get cold. Wait, are you cold, Trent?” Meier asked with concern. Trent shook his head with a s
mile.

“No, I ain’t cold. I just used to like the heat off a fire. That’s all.” Dor no
dded.

“Tell you what I
don’t
miss. Eatin’ all them snakes and frogs,” he said with a chuckle. Trent joined
him.

“You said it there,” Trent answ
ered.

Back in the dark, Jax finally spoke. “Can’t hear us. Would have by now,” he said softly. Lotho and the others gathered around
Jax.

“What can you tell us, Strafer?” asked Lotho in the same hushed tones. Jax sighed and shook his
head.

“Doesn’t make sense. They act like men, talk, laugh, joke, like men. Look like walkers though. Pale skin,” reported Jax. Bain inched forward with difficulty. He took up a lot of s
pace.

“What are they talking about? Might be a clue,” he whispered. Jax shru
gged.

“Beats me. Good eyes. Plain ears,” he said, gesturing to himself. The men all smiled. Bain felt shee
pish.

“What about all that joking and laughing then?” he asked. Jax just smiled and shrugged a
gain.

“
Saw
their faces, Bain,” he replied as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. Bain was initially incensed but then sniggered with the rest of
them.

Meanwhile, back at the fire. “And that’s when he said, ‘Mister, I ain’t
got
a horse!’” Dor finished the joke. Trent started laughing and slapping his thigh, and Meier nearly fell off the wood pile. Dor took a bow and looked at his other undead compan
ions.

“Who’s got another one then?” he asked expectantly. Trent sat and thought for a second. Meier just shrugged and shook his
head.

“All right then, I got one,” said the big man. “A woodcutter, a fisherman, and a soldier all walk into a tavern. Not a one of them has any money. Not a coin. They belly up to the bar, and the woodcutter says, ‘I ain’t got a coin, but for a glass of ale, I’ll chop up a nice stack of firewood for you.’ The barkeep says all right and gives the man some ale. Next, the fisherman says, ‘I ain’t got a coin, but for a glass of ale, I’ll give you the biggest fish I caught today.’ The barkeep nods and says, ‘Fair enough,’ then serves the old boy some ale. Now the soldier, he gets to thinking, and he says, ‘I ain’t got a coin to trade, but I’ll tell you what. If you give me a glass of ale, I promise not to
stab you when I’m drunk!
” Dor fell over backward, laughing and grabbing his stomach. Meier laughed lightly and then looked to T
rent.

“Did he give him the ale?” he asked innocently. Dor shook his head and kept laug
hing.

“That there was the end of the joke, Meier. I swear I bet you didn’t get out of Targov too often!” Trent chuckled as well then patted Meier on the back ever so lig
htly.

“Well, Meier, I can’t say as I know if the barkeep served that old surly soldier or not, but
…
I reckon I would have!” This time, they all laughed. Meier got it, he supposed. Raven had finally all he could take; he woke up and c
awed.

“You execrable cullions! It’s impossible to sleep with all this hooting monkey nonsense! You want a joke? Here’s one: There once were three idiots, and being impossibly dim, they woke up a raven, and then they all caught on fire, and the raven lived happily evermore! Get it? You get destroyed, and I get some sleep!
HA. HA. HA
. The end.” The raven pointedly tucked his head into his wing again. The three men looked at each other for a few seconds and then exploded in uproarious laughter, even louder than before. Raven started mumbling horrible, hurtful things about them under his br
eath.