Zombie Mage (2 page)

“Mister – please hurry.  It’s all my fault. I dared
him to climb higher even though he’s scared of heights.”

Olligh reached the boy and knelt by his side.  He
poked his shoulder but there was no response.

“Umm!” he said, poking harder.

The boy's head moved slightly to the side and he
wheezed.

“Is he alive?” yelled his friend.

Olligh raised his thumbs and nodded.

“Mister, I can’t get down – the rope’s snapped.  Can
you take him to the village?”

Olligh shrugged.  He wished he knew where to find the
village.

“Mister?”

He shrugged again, hoping the boy would understand. 
Noticing he appeared confused, the boy pointed along the forest track. “It’s
that way – just follow the path. It’s not far.”

Olligh stood and shook his foot, trying to resolve the
numbness.  Satisfied with a slight tingle, he lifted Seth over his shoulder and
lumbered along the forest track.  He struggled with the extra weight, and his
legs felt heavy, but he persevered knowing it was the only way to save the
boy’s life. 

In the distance he spotted a long wooden fence with a
few cottages scattered behind it.  Discovering civilisation strengthened his
resolve and he quickened his pace.  As well as helping the boy, he had other
motivations; he hoped that someone in the village would be able to remove his
stitching and shed some light on his unusual situation.  Unfortunately for
Olligh, he was concentrating more on the village than the forest trail.  He caught
his foot on a tree stump, stumbled and fell to the ground releasing Seth from
his clutches.  The boy landed with a bump on the track and wheezed loudly. 
Olligh groaned and tried to stand, but discovered he couldn’t get up properly. 
Glancing back, he was startled to find his foot completely twisted on its side.
Oddly, there was no pain. In fact, his whole leg now felt completely numb. 
After a brief struggle, he managed to stand on his good foot and hobbled over
to Seth.  As he leaned over to check the boy, he noticed a handful of villagers
approaching to investigate the commotion.  One of them noticed Olligh’s vile
features and screamed.

“Umm, umgh!” Olligh said, holding his arms in the air
to show he meant no harm.  He wondered what the villagers would be thinking,
seeing a decrepit old man hovering over the boy’s body.  He shuffled forward
towards them, hoping they’d realise he wasn’t a foul beast.

“It’s my Seth!” screamed a woman. “That creature’s
killed my son!”

Olligh shook his head and waved his hands in the air.
“Umhhh!”

The villagers retreated to the gate and Olligh could
hear lots of screaming and shouting.  The woman returned, wiping tears from her
eyes. She pointed over at him and Olligh wondered if it would help calm her
nerves if he merely smiled and waved. Deciding against the idea, he stood still
and motioned over to Seth.  He hoped somebody would be able to help the boy, if
it wasn’t already too late. It didn’t look promising; Seth remained flat out on
the ground, unmoving.

“Look, it’s gloating!” shouted someone else. “I can’t
bear to look.”

“It wants to eat him!  Call the guard!”

Olligh wasn’t impressed, expecting more of a heroic
welcome for returning the injured boy to the village.  As for eating him,
couldn’t they see he had his mouth stitched up?  He couldn’t eat the boy, even
if he really wanted to.

“It’s evil!” yelled the woman. “Hurry up and kill it!
Avenge the death of my son.”

Olligh couldn’t believe his ears.  Why did everyone
perceive him to be an evil fiend and bent on killing him?  Obviously, he
understood that his skin condition was rather unsightly but he didn’t imagine
for one moment he could possibly be that hideous.  Before he had a chance to
ponder further, five crossbowmen approached the village gate. Olligh realised
they weren't part of a welcoming committee when they rushed to fit bolts to
their weapons.  He shook his head and turned to run, trying to escape into the
forest.  A bolt thudded into a tree by his side so he quickened his pace,
struggling to navigate through the thick undergrowth. As he ran, a burning pain
in his ankle forced him to the ground.

“Ummmmhhhh!” he screamed. 

The pain from his wrenched foot suddenly hit him,
travelling all the way up his leg.  He squirmed in agony, not able to
understand why he was feeling the pain now and not earlier when he fell with
Seth. Glancing down at his foot, he stared in disbelief as it began to twist
back to its original position.  Olligh felt faint and sick, not to mention
confused. He tried to blank out the pain but it was unbearable. His vision
became blurred with bright colours and his head began to throb. The crossbowmen
were in hot pursuit and rushed through the forest towards him.

“I've got the filthy beggar!” said one of them,
motioning to his friends.

They all met up and circled Olligh.  His eyes were shut
tightly and he thrashed his arms wildly in the air.

“He’s an ugly blighter, isn’t he?”

“Ugly isn’t the word I’d use.”

“Hey, is that a zip on its mouth?”

For a moment, all went quiet.

“No, look, someone’s stitched him up. It’s probably to
stop him biting.”

“Hurry up, let’s put it out of its misery!”

They aimed their weapons at him and released a volley
of bolts which penetrated the soft earth.

“What the-”

 Olligh had once again vanished.

Sebastian Denlik sat at his desk, his head planted firmly in his hands,
pondering over the day's events.  It had been one of those days where nothing,
absolutely nothing, had worked out as planned.  He wondered why he had to rely
on fools to try and complete the simplest of tasks but the answer continued to
elude him.  Still, putting his misgivings aside, he was grateful to have their
support.  Times were difficult and he needed all the help he could muster over
the coming months, even if sacrifices had to be made.  His quiet moment of
contemplation was disturbed when somebody knocked gently on his door.  He
quickly sat upright, wiped his bearded mouth with the back of his hand and
grabbed his quill from the desk.

"Who is it?" he asked, turning slightly to
face the door.

"It's Warden Philips, Revered One.  Might I have
a moment of your time?"

"Yes, yes - do come in, but this had better be
important.  It’s my rest time you’re disturbing now."

The door was pushed open slightly and a young
red-headed male poked his head through the gap in the doorway. "Indeed,
it's of the upmost importance, High Warden. I wouldn't dare to disturb you
otherwise."

"Well, do come in, I'm not used to discussions
with floating heads."

Warden Philips managed a weak smile and entered the
chamber.  He wore the same dark, elegant robe as Denlik; the only difference
was the purple sash around his waist. In his right hand, he held a simple
wooden staff by his side.

Denlik eyed the door. "If this is good news then
please leave the door open, otherwise shut it.  I don't wish for any of our
less devoted followers to overhear and lose faith in our teachings."

"Of course. We wouldn't want that to occur."

Warden Philips closed the door and returned his gaze
to Denlik, a sombre expression on his face.  "High Warden, I've come to
speak to you about the priestess."

Denlik shook his head. "Oh, no! Just when I
thought nothing else could go wrong today. Has she finally managed to convert
one of our own to her ways?”

“Not quite.”

“Wait, don't tell me. Have the fools forgotten to lock
that side door again? Did she escape?"

Warden Philips turned his gaze to the floor
momentarily.  "No. Actually, it's far worse than that. You're not going to
enjoy hearing this."

"Well, spit it out, man!"

"Sister Warren is no more.”

“No more what? Has she relinquished her sisterhood?”

“Oh my, no. When I say no more, I merely mean no more
is she in this physical realm."

Denlik shut his eyes and sighed.  "She's
dead?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so. She somehow managed to break
free from her cell and it appears she may have took pity on the
afflicted."

"The afflicted? Why ever would someone take pity
on them?  They're beyond saving."

"Her faith in the old gods may have something to
do with it.  Perhaps she thought she'd be able to help them."

"I still don't understand why you continue to keep
them locked up.  You won't find any answers to our problems from them.  I
would've had them destroyed by now."

"Well, from time to time I do continue to glean
useful information by studying them.  It's done no harm until now."

"Did Sister Warren manage to release them?"

"No, High Warden.  They're still secure but
there's not much remaining of the sister.  She ventured a little too close to
their cells."

Denlik shivered. "That's a terrible way to perish
but, nevertheless, it's of her own doing. We must hold a ceremony later to
assist in her passing."

Warden Philips nodded. "Yes.  I will see to it.
What should I do with her remains?"

"If there's any flesh remaining, gather it up. We
can use it in the ceremony.  It should help us to obtain a stronger bond with
the cosmos.  Also, send her clothes to the scullery for cleaning."

"Yes, High Warden. I must also mention that this
does now put us in a rather difficult situation with the local community.  With
the priestess now dead, it'll be more difficult than ever to convince the
nearby towns and villages of our sincerity."

Denlik placed his quill in a groove on the desk and
stood. "We will manage.  Perhaps it's for the best. Sister Warren was
difficult to persuade and I was doubtful of her willingness to reason with us. 
At least now we can tell the truth and declare that she has passed away.
There'll be no need for further falsehoods."

Warden Philips nodded. "Then I will see to her
remains and organise the ceremony, High Warden."

Denlik edged closer, his hands clasped together at his
waist.  "One more thing.  Have any more of the Walkers returned since the
incident with Veldrigg?"

"No.  Veldrigg was the last Walker to reappear
although he's rather sporadic of late and doesn't remain here for long.  He's
deteriorating rapidly and I'm not convinced he'll retain his faculties for much
longer."

"Damn it.  What lengths do we have to go to in
order to claim them all before it's too late?"

"We're doing better than expected.  At the last
count, we believe there's about twelve remaining."

Denlik frowned.  "As far as I'm concerned, twelve
is twelve too many.  This has a significant and most detrimental effect on
everything in both a physical and spiritual sense.  We need them back and dealt
with before more damage is caused."

Warden Philips nodded. "I assure you, Revered One,
we're doing everything we can.  At least we now know that the potion is
effective at dealing with this unsettling situation."

"Indeed. All is not bleak and it's good to remain
positive. The difficult part is the wait and then getting them to drink
it."

Warden Philips tapped his staff on the stone floor and
turned to head for the door. "Only with Chektri's help and blessing will
we achieve this goal but it's certainly within our sights.  Have faith, High
Warden."

"Indeed, may Chektri guide us through these
testing times."

Warden Philips left the chamber and pulled the door
quietly shut behind him.  Denlik stood a moment longer, deep in thought before
returning to his chair.  He sat in silence for a while, staring at some blank
parchment, his thoughts flitting between his duties and the difficulties he now
faced.   Reaching for his quill, he dipped it into an ink pot and waited for it
to stop dripping.  Satisfied that it was ready to use, he scrawled the number
twelve at the top of the parchment. 

"Twelve too many," he muttered and shook his
head.  "Even one is bad enough."

Somebody forced a sack over Olligh’s head.  He felt
hands all over his body, holding him down.  He squirmed frantically and kicked
wildly but there were too many of them.  Thoughts raced through his head at an
incredible pace, and he wanted answers. He wondered who they were, what they
wanted and what he’d done to deserve all this torment and suffering. 

“We’ve got him.”

“Tie his filthy hands!”

Someone grabbed his hands but he managed to break free
from their grasp. They held him again, firmer this time, and bound his wrists
together tightly.

“Quickly, we don’t have much time.”

Someone yanked the sack up a little but he still
couldn’t see anything.  They stopped short at his nose and tightened the rest
with rope.