Zombie Mage (4 page)

It didn’t take long to reach the farmhouse.  Thinking
back to poor Horace in the graveyard, Olligh was grateful no bulls were lurking
in the field.  Instead, a few sheep were huddled together grazing on the long,
wet grass.  After the walk across the field, his trousers were now soaked
through and he desperately needed a change of clothing.  Unfortunately for
Olligh, it wasn’t going to be a simple case of going in and taking what he
wanted; somebody was inside the house.  A candle flickered behind some closed shutters
near the entrance; a sure sign that someone was home. 

Not wanting to attract attention, Olligh crept to the
rear of the farmhouse and clambered over a fence into the backyard.  The yard itself
was most untidy, cluttered with bundles of wood, rusty farming tools and empty
sacks.  Some outbuildings caught his interest but the doors were padlocked so
he decided to concentrate on the farmhouse instead.  To his left, he noticed a
closed door and window.  Above it, near the thatched roof, he spotted another
window with open shutters and another faint glow from candlelight.  Trying the
door, he was surprised to find it unlocked so gently pushed it open.  
Something inside the room moved and growled.  Olligh gulped and stood still. 
For a moment, all went quiet.  Peering in through the doorway, he spotted a
huge black dog lying in the corner of the room.  Not recognising him, it
snarled and lurched forward.  Olligh instinctively brought his hands up to
protect his face but was relieved to find it couldn’t reach him. The dog yanked
frantically on some chains, baring its teeth and snarling ferociously. 

 “Umm,” Olligh said, holding a finger to his mouth in
an attempt to calm it and show he was friendly.  The dog didn’t appear to care
or understand. It continued to bark loudly.  Elsewhere in the house he could
hear muffled voices and movement so he decided to make a hasty retreat before
he was discovered.  Back outside, he froze. 

“I can’t see anything, father,” said a woman. “It
might just be a fox.”

Looking up, he noticed somebody with long hair leaning
out from the upper window.  He pressed his back against the wall, hoping she
wouldn’t be able to see him.  The shutters closed and he heard a man’s voice.
“I’ll send Belter outside – he’ll soon chase it away.”

Rather than attempt to escape over the fence, Olligh
crept around to the side of the house. He stood on a barrel and began to climb
an adjoining outbuilding.  As he struggled to pull himself up, the dog was
released into the yard.  It immediately spotted him and leapt to attack,
grabbing the bottom of his trousers, yanking them straight off.  Spurred on by
the thought of losing more than his trousers, he quickly reached the top of the
building and glanced back over the edge.  The dog appeared content chewing and
slobbering over his dirty clothes; it lay on the ground, engrossed in its
mindless savagery.   Unfortunately for Olligh, the walls of the house limited
his escape route.  There didn’t appear to be another way to go except back down
with the fiendish dog.

As he pondered what to do next, a heavy-set man joined
the dog in the yard.  He carried a lantern and a large club. 

“Have ya spotted anything yet, Belter?”

Belter glanced at its owner and wagged its tail
happily but quickly returned its attention to the trousers, trying to rip them
to shreds. The man approached the dog and gently patted its head.

“Whatcha got there, boy?”

Olligh began to panic. If the man looked up and
spotted him, he certainly didn’t want to be introduced to his nasty looking
club.  Hoping to find a way out of the predicament, he glanced around and
spotted another previously undiscovered window above him with one of its
shutters open.

“Where’d ya get that, boy?”

The dog growled. 

“Come on, give it ‘ere!  It best not be something of
mine.”

Olligh reached for the window ledge, heaved up and
clambered inside to somebody’s bed chamber.  Thankfully, the room was
unoccupied. A single unmade bed stood next to a chest of drawers and an open
door led to the landing.  Poking his head through the doorway, he noticed
another bed chamber to his right with a flickering candle on a dresser. Olligh
crept along the landing and peered into the room, relieved to find nobody
lurking about. Another single bed stood in the corner of the room and a large
cupboard next to it.  Hoping to find some new trousers, he tiptoed across to
the cupboard and opened the doors.  One side was filled with dresses and the
other side with riding gear.  Olligh removed a plain looking dress and held it
to his body.  After a moment’s consideration, he shook his head.  As desperate
as he was for new clothes, he just couldn’t bring himself to wear a dress. 
Returning it to the cupboard, he removed some jodhpurs and tried them on but
they were too tight and wouldn’t pull up over his thighs.

A door slammed shut downstairs and Olligh could hear
muffled voices.  Realising he was running short on time, he removed the
jodhpurs and flung them onto the bed.  If he couldn’t find some trousers, he
needed to find something sharp to remove his stitches.  Noticing a small
jewellery box on the dresser, he walked over to it and shook the contents out;
he hoped to find a pair of scissors or nail clippers. Instead, he discovered
only a brooch and a small selection of rings. In a last desperate attempt to
find something useful, he concentrated on the drawers.  As he removed a corset
and some bloomers from the bottom drawer, somebody screamed.  Olligh looked up,
horrified to see a young woman standing at the doorway of the room; she raised
her arms in shock.

“Umm!” he said, dropping the clothes to the floor.

Her gaze fell below his waistline. She screamed again
and ran down the landing stairs.

“Father! Father!  There’s a dirty old man in my room,
looking through my undergarments.”

Olligh couldn’t believe his misfortune.  His eyes
darted around the room, looking for the quickest way out.

“What?” roared her father. “Upstairs, you say?”

Olligh quickly reached the landing and returned to the
room with the open shutters.  Something slammed downstairs and he could hear
movement and more yelling.

“It was terrible, father.  He’s half naked.  I could
see his horrible bits!”

 Olligh reached the window and clambered back out.
Pondering over the woman’s words, he was grateful he still had his bits intact
considering his body was now wracked with a terrible skin condition.  Returning
to the outbuilding, he was relieved to find that Belter the dog was no longer
in the yard.  More importantly, he also spotted the remains of his trousers
stretched out in a muddy puddle.  Easing himself to the ground, he retrieved
his filthy trousers and gave them a shake before hurriedly pulling them back
on.  As much as he disliked them, he decided they’d be better than nothing;
trying to communicate his good intentions with a sewn mouth was bad enough, but
being half naked certainly didn’t appear to help matters.

“Father! He’s outside!”

Olligh looked up and noticed the woman pointing at him
from her bedroom window.  He could also hear Belter snarling from behind the
back door, frantically scraping to get out. Not wanting to overstay his
welcome, he clambered over the fence and ran back through the field towards the
safety of the forest.  Glancing back, he was relieved to find nobody following
him.  He continued walking along the forest track.  His body ached and he felt
tired.  Things seemed to be going from bad to worse with still no insight into
his true identity.   As he walked deeper into the forest, he hoped his
misfortune would soon take a turn for the better.

Veldrigg didn't feel too good.   Something horrible was happening to
him and he didn't understand what it was.  As well as a burning temperature and
a terrible ache in his stomach, he had the shakes and he couldn't stop them. 
Worse, he felt as though he hadn't eaten for weeks.  He needed food ever so
badly.  Anything would do.   Given half the chance, he'd have already devoured
his own hand but it was shaking so badly that he couldn't fit it into his
mouth.

He opened his dry eyes and gazed around the room,
suddenly realising that he was sprawled out on the floor.  There was nothing
familiar about this new location, probably due to the blurriness in his eyes,
but he knew he was still in danger.  Each time the green mist claimed him,
there was only turmoil waiting for him when he reached the other end.  It
wasn't all bad though.  Along with the turmoil there would also be food to
eat.  Oh, how much he craved for a chunk of flesh. His red, swollen tongue
poked out from his mouth and he licked his lips.   He didn't care where the
food came from, whether man or beast. The demons appeared in many different
forms and he wasn't picky, nor did he particularly mind which body part he
ripped the flesh from.   It wasn't for the taste.  Everything tasted the same
these days - bland and flavourless.  But, as well as comforting him, it helped
to temporarily satisfy his appetite and release him from the surging ache in
his gut.  Thinking about the possibility of devouring some food strengthened
his resolve.  He leaned against a set of shelves and clambered to his feet.

"Are you okay?"

Veldrigg thought he heard a voice.  Perhaps a young
boy or girl but he couldn't see anyone.  His mind often played tricks on him,
trying to convince him that he was still alive and well.   It often tried to
lure him into a false sense of security, playing on his emotions and waiting
for him to let his guard down but he knew he was stronger than that.  The
demons wouldn't get him.  He'd destroy them all before they had a chance to
claim him.  Nothing would get in his way because he was special.  He knew why
he was here.  This was repentance for the crimes he'd committed in a previous
life.  He wasn't proud to be a murderer but at least he now had approval from
the gods to destroy the demons that dared mock him. It made complete sense and
he'd happily do anything to stop the ache. 

"Is this your first time here?"

There it was again - that voice. Why did they torment
him so?  Veldrigg strained his eyes, trying to get a clearer view.  Briefly, he
saw a boy's face directly in front of him; it was all ripped and bloody,
staring at him with piercing eyes, mocking his very existence.  The face then
twisted into nothing.  Just a blackness.

"I'm sometimes sent outside as well but it's
better here.  There are less people here and it's much safer."

Veldrigg shook his head in rage. He roared and flayed
his arms in the air, trying to see where the voice was coming from.  His huge
hand slammed into something so he gripped it tightly before it had a chance to
escape.  It felt soft and fleshy but made no noise as he squeezed the life out
of it.  Bringing it closer to his face, he sniffed curiously.  It smelt
distinctly meaty but it wasn't what he was looking for. He wanted live demons,
not dead muck.  Infuriated with his find, he flung it to the floor and
staggered forward hoping to find something different.  His hands gripped a door
handle so he tried to pull it downwards but the door wouldn't budge.  Furious
that things weren't working for him, he kicked the door and tried the handle
again. This time he yanked it upwards.  Veldrigg heard a loud clunk so he
pushed against the door, opening it wide. 

"Better!" he yelled, wiping slobber from his
mouth.

Everything was bright, causing him to squint, and
there was a lot of annoying screaming.  He didn't like the sound of screaming. 
It grated against his ears, making him cringe.  The demons had obviously
spotted him and therefore he needed to destroy them all.  He would offer them
no mercy.  They would all be mashed into a pulp like the dead muck he squelched
earlier and then he would feed on them.

"Food!" he shouted, lurching forward. 

Although his eyes deceived him, he knew he could rely
on his nose and ears.  Within seconds he had grabbed a demon by its neck and
squeezed it with all his might.   Veldrigg found it difficult to squeeze
properly these days.  The shaking didn't help matters.  Rather than just merely
squeeze the life out of people he would often, more than not, lift them up from
the ground and relentlessly jiggle them until they stopped moving.  Still, they
never lasted long once he got a good grip of them.  His new teeth weren't very
effective either.  No longer could he chew on bone.  On last count, he only had
five teeth remaining but, hey, at least they were sharp enough to tear a
demon's throat out with relative ease.  More importantly, he was glad he could
still count.

The demon he currently held certainly wasn't giving up
without a fight.  Although everything was still blurry, he could tell it was a
woman; well, a demon disguised as a woman. Veldrigg knew the truth of her vile
deception.  She had long hair that smelt particularly fruity with a hint of
pear and apple and she wasn't very strong.  He knew children that could hit
harder than her pathetic attempts at escaping from his grasp.  As he continued
to squeeze, another demon woman hurriedly rushed to his side and battered him
with a bread stick; this obviously wasn't the most effective weapon to beat off
an attacker with but at least it amused him immensely.

"Let go of my husband at once!" she screamed
into his ear, sobbing and wailing as she struck blows with her mighty loaf. 
"He's done nothing to harm you. Somebody, please help me!"