Zombie Mage (8 page)

Olligh returned to familiar surroundings. Staring down at him with
madness in their eyes were the two stone gargoyles.  Realising he was back in
the crypt, his thoughts quickly returned to Lara.  He struggled to his feet and
turned to speak to her but she was gone.

“Lara?”

There was no answer but he heard a faint scream in the
distance.  Following the direction of the sound, he noticed the door between
the gargoyles was now slightly ajar.  Olligh hesitantly opened the door, half
expecting to see someone lurking in the passageway waiting to ambush him. 
Thankfully, there was nobody around so he crept through the doorway and along
the passage to the next door. Trying the handle, he was surprised to hear a
solid clunk as it opened.  Obviously, security wasn't top of his captor's
agenda this day.  Pushing the door wide open, he entered a dimly lit corridor
with a stone floor and cells to each side.  The floor was damp and bits of
bloody skin and bone were brushed into a heap by the door, mingling with the
wet dirt.  It was as though somebody had half heartedly begun to wash the floor
but couldn't be bothered to finish the job.  At the end of the corridor, some
stone steps led up to another door with a stained glass window and bright light
behind it.

Olligh edged closer to the bars of the first cell,
looking for any sign of life.  A pile of rags were stacked inside against the
far wall, half hidden by the dark shadows from within.  Just as he was about to
turn to investigate the next cell, somebody grabbed the bars from inside.  A
woman’s face pressed against the bars, her skin ripped and shredded with a
bloody gash.  Her wild eyes darted around the room, searching for something –
anything that dared to move.  Olligh attempted to back away but this caught her
eye. She snarled baring her black chipped teeth and drool dribbled from her
mouth.  She reached out for him but he managed to step away from her grasping
hands. 

“Erm... Hello,” he said. “Do you understand me?”

She shook her head savagely while pressing her whole
body against the bars, reaching out, trying to grab him.

“I take it that’s a no then?”

“Hun...” she moaned, her eyes making brief contact
with him.  Olligh shivered.  He never expected to find somebody else more
hideous than himself and he felt pity for her.

“No, I believe you’re mistaken.  I’m certainly not
your honey.  You poor, unfortunate woman.”

“Hun... gry!” she snarled, grabbing for him again.

Olligh took another step backwards and wiped some
spittle from his tunic. “Yes, well, I can see you aren’t in the mood for idle
chatter. You’ve obviously far more pressing things on your mind.”

Just as he was about to walk away, somebody grabbed
his ankle.  Olligh turned and noticed the occupant of the opposite cell lying
on the floor, peering up at him with cold dark eyes from behind the bars. He
couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman. A chunk of its skull was missing
leaving an exposed brain crawling with maggots. Olligh shuddered and tried to
pull his foot away, but it was held too tightly.

“Let me go immediately!” he shouted.

The creature gripped tighter, attempting to pull
Olligh’s foot closer. Its face now pressed against the bars, quivering with
anticipation.  Olligh gasped.  A sudden realisation struck him. The creature’s
mouth had also been stitched shut.  Something odd was happening and he didn’t
want to be a part of it any longer.  With his hands against the wall, he yanked
his foot away, tearing the creature’s hand off from its wrist.  The hand flew
through the air and landed in the opposite cell, much to the delight of the occupant
inside.  She grabbed it and bit greedily, as if uncertain when her next meal
would be.  Olligh stepped away from the cells and watched as she began to
devour it.  He wrinkled his nose in disgust as she bit off some fingers, not
even caring about the filthy fingernails, and swallowed without even chewing
them.

“Now, I normally like a woman who enjoys her food but
that’s just plain disgusting.  You haven’t even wiped your mouth afterwards.”

The woman quickly finished and reached out for more. 
She grasped hungrily at Olligh, her eyes fixed firmly on him.  Meanwhile, the
creature in the opposite cell remained stretched out on the floor.  It had a
blank expression on its face, seemingly oblivious to its missing appendage.

“Well it was... Erm... nice meeting you both but I
haven’t got time to chat.  I’ve got a missing wife to find.”

Just as Olligh was about to take a step forward, he
heard voices and the rattling of keys from behind the door at the end of the
corridor.  He didn’t want to be discovered just yet; at least not until he knew
the identity and motives of his captor.  Instead of waiting to see who it was
he decided it would be best to retreat to the stone chamber.  He glanced back
one last time at the occupants of the cells.

 “Well, I’ve got to go now but I’ll be back.  At least
it’ll give you both a chance to get to know each other better.  You can share
stories and more body parts if you wish.”

There was a heavy clunk from the door at the other end
of the passage and Olligh quickly returned to the passageway which led to the
stone chamber.  Unfortunately for Olligh, he wasn’t quick enough and somebody
noticed him.

“We’ve got a Walker!” someone yelled from the cell
area.  “Grab the rope and find a potion.”

Olligh lurched forward, desperate to not be caught. 
Whoever these people were, he didn’t think much of their general accommodation
and he certainly didn’t want to be locked up in a cell next to those vile
creatures.  He reached the stone chamber and shut the door behind him,
desperately looking for something to wedge the door in place. Time however was
pressing and he gave up in frustration.  Instead, he rushed to the rear of the
chamber and crawled out through the hole into the graveyard.

Outside, the cemetery was a mass of activity.  A loud
bell clanged nearby and people in hooded robes rushed from the adjoining
building and scattered throughout the graveyard into the evening gloom.  Olligh
stood with his back pressed against the wall, looking for an opportunity to
escape. Obviously they weren't taking any chances and were desperate to secure
the area.  He scrambled for the safety of some nearby bushes and reached them
just as a man poked his head out from the hole behind him.  “Warden! It gets
worse.  The Walker’s on the loose.”

Somebody inside the chamber cursed.  “Whoever is
responsible for this lapse in security will be punished.  The holding area
should be checked daily.  I’ll flog each attendant personally for this.”

Olligh didn’t wait to hear any more.  He rushed out
from the bushes and through the graveyard, trying not to trip on the many
gravestones and mounds that got in his way.   He spotted the entrance in the
distance but it was well guarded.  Cursing, he changed direction and headed for
a nearby fence which led into dense woodland.  As he got close, a red-haired
man jumped out from behind a tree in front of him.  Olligh stopped in his
tracks and watched warily.  The figure was cloaked like the others and held a
wooden staff in his hand.  Around his head, he wore a metal circlet with a
skull engraved upon its centre.

“Don’t run, Walker,” he said. “There’s nothing for you
out there but darkness and danger.  Come back to the sanctuary and let us help
you.”

Olligh blinked.  “Help me?  What do you mean help me? 
It’s your kind that needs help.  You’re all demented.”

The man shook his head. “Alas, I wish this were true,
my friend.  Your mind is deteriorating, thus why you would think such vile
thoughts.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you. I’ve seen what you
do to people.  I’ve witnessed those poor, mindless half-dead souls that you
keep locked up in your cells.”

“This isn’t you talking, my friend.  You’re suffering
from mind-rot.  We’ve no cells as you describe, nor would we bear witness to
such loathsome practices.”

“Liar! Let me pass or face my wrath!”

Olligh could hear footsteps behind him.  Turning, he
noticed another two figures approaching.  Noticing an opportunity, the man
blocking his way hesitantly stepped closer.

“We can’t allow you to leave our cemetery.”

“What do you mean your cemetery? Since when did you
become owners of it?”

“I’m Warden Philips of the Dark Cloaks.  We manage the
cemetery and watch over it, including all those fortunate’s that are buried
here.”

“Never heard of you and, if what you say is true,
you're not doing a good job here. The grass desperately needs cutting and the
fence is falling apart.  Now move out of my way!”

“Walker, I would ask you to reconsider before we're
forced to hurt you.”

“Ah ha!  Now your true colours are emerging.  You like
inflicting pain, don’t you?”

“Not at all, but-”

“You enjoy stitching people’s mouths shut and beating
them with clubs and slashing them with small blades don’t you?  Come on, admit
it.  You’re all sick, twisted individuals.”

A net was flung over Olligh from behind.  He struggled
to remove it but two of the Dark Cloaks leapt onto him, holding him down.

“We don't wish to do things this way,” Warden Philips
uttered, “but you’ve left us with no other alternative.”

Olligh grunted. “Oh, yes.  Three against one.  You
must be ever so proud of yourselves.”

Warden Philips reached over and retrieved a flask from
someone. “Good,” he said. “You've brought a potion.  It’ll help calm this one
down.  Hold his head for me.”

Someone grabbed his head and held it firmly to one
side.

“Oh wonderful, why don’t you stitch me up again while
you’re at it?”

“Before we give this to you, would you be good enough
to let us know your name?”

“My name? It's Olligh... Olligh Selthnik.  What do you
want my name for?  It's a bit late to try and make friends."

"We just need to adjust our records."

"Adjust your records? Does this involve
humiliating your victims?  I’ve got some overweight fiend straddled across my
legs and I’m gaping up at somebody's groin here. This is becoming ridiculous.”

“The High Warden likes to know the name of each Walker
we find. Now, please continue to cooperate with us or you’ll have more than a
groin in your face.”

“Really? Well, I’ve had enough of this!”

Olligh’s thoughts returned to the security guards that
he’d dealt with earlier.  He focused once again on manipulating the energies
and spoke the word of power –

Therintk!

His body pulsed with energy and he flung his arms out
forward, ripping through the net.  The two Dark Cloaks that dared to hold him
down were hurtled through the air with tremendous force and crashed to the
ground in the distance.   Noticing his two companions out of action, Warden
Philips thrust his staff forward and mumbled an incantation.  Within moments,
Olligh felt his legs stiffen as though they were encased in solid ice.  He
couldn’t move or feel them anymore.

“What dark magic is this?” Olligh asked.  “Free me
from this spell at once!”

“This is no dark magic, Walker.  This is merely divine
intervention bestowed upon us by our deity, Chektri.  Soon you’ll understand
his eternal power and how he can help you.”

Olligh struggled to stay on his feet, wavering before
the remaining Dark Cloak.  He stumbled forward and with his remaining strength,
thrust out towards Warden Philips tossing him through the air.  The warden
smashed through the fence and landed with a dull thud, somewhere in the
woodland. 

“Told you the fence needed repairing.” Olligh sneered.

Unable to stand, he collapsed to the ground and smacked
his head hard against the earth.  Disorientated, he heaved forward trying to
reach the broken fence and escape before more Dark Cloaks arrived.  He hoped
the warden’s magic was only temporary and that it wouldn’t spread to his waist
and beyond.  Trying to live with his decrepit form was difficult enough without
having to crawl everywhere all the time as well.  Olligh struggled across the
fence and into the woodland.  With the last of his strength, he crawled a bit
further before collapsing under the cover of some bushes next to a dead tree
stump.  With a heavy sigh, he rolled on his side and succumbed to
unconsciousness.

Olligh felt someone hold his hand and stroke it gently.  Opening his
eyes, he noticed a young, attractive Lara kneeling by his side.  She peered
down at him, her eyes sparkling with humour.    "Are you okay?" she
asked.  Her face looked flushed and she was trying not to laugh. "Or is
that a silly question considering recent circumstances?"

Olligh blinked, trying to fathom what had happened.

"Don't give me that wicked stare," she
continued. "You can't blame me for this."

"Lara?"

She sighed and nodded.  "Yes, who else would it
be, silly?”