Zombie Mage (16 page)

The journey took longer than anticipated and the walk
up the hill tired Olligh immensely.  He couldn’t remember being this unfit in
the real world and blamed it on his decrepit form.  By the time he reached the
top, dark clouds were forming trying to blank out the sun.  Standing by the
fort entrance, two guards in blue hooded robes appeared to be watching him. 
Above them, on the battlements, more guards patrolled but they seemed oblivious
to his approach.  Olligh walked closer, prepared for an encounter but, oddly,
nobody advanced to interrogate or threaten him.  It wasn’t until he reached the
fort entrance that he realised the guards were skeletons.  Their hollow eyes
appeared to follow his every movement, gazing at him with intrigue.

“Hello,” Olligh said. “Can you talk?”

Convinced he'd never been involved in animating a
skeleton from the dead before, he wasn’t sure if they had vocal capabilities or
not; the eerie silence confirmed his suspicions.

“Obviously you can’t talk but you can somehow sense
me. This is most interesting.”

He watched the skeletons for a short while, fascinated
by the magic that bound them together.

 “You know, it’s quite refreshing to not be attacked
on sight.  I may have to consider opening a social centre for skeletons when I
next return home.”

In response, the jaw bone from one of the guards came
loose and fell to the ground.

“Indeed, well – it was nice meeting you too.  We
should chat again a bit later.”

The inside of the fort was a mass of rubble.  Broken
furniture, chunks of metal and other debris lay scattered throughout the
courtyard, amassing in one big mound near the centre.  Sitting comfortably on a
throne at the top of the mound was a dark bearded man wearing a red hooded
robe.  He watched, unmoving, as Olligh approached.

"Hello there!" Olligh called.

The man didn't respond.  Olligh walked closer,
preparing himself for the worst.  Glancing from side to side at the
battlements, he noticed the skeletal guards had stopped patrolling. Instead
they all stood still, following him with their sightless eyes until he reached
the bottom of the mound.

"Hello again," Olligh said, peering up at
the throne. "I'm searching for a dead person.  Have you seen one
recently?"

The man unfolded his arms and laughed sharply. 
"Indeed you do, Olligh Selthnik.  Indeed you do and I can tell you in all
honesty, I've seen more than my fair share of dead people in my time."

"Excuse me?  How do you know me?"

"Well, it's a small world, isn't it?  Or should I
say worlds?"

Olligh frowned. "Enough of the puzzles and answer
my question. How do you know me?"

The man leaned forward and pulled back his hood
revealing a pale face with a full head of bushy dark hair.  "Does this
answer your question?"

Olligh studied his face; it looked strangely
familiar.  He had a round face with dark piercing eyes, an impressive hooked
nose and full lips.  He certainly didn't appear dead and Olligh wondered if
this was the missing Walker or not. 

"I know you, don't I?  I've seen you somewhere
before."

The man shook his head slowly. "Oh, dear Olligh. 
What’ve they done to you?"

Olligh frowned, frustrated with the dark haze that
continued to cloud his mind.  It seemed particularly stubborn when trying to
remember faces and memories, rather than words and incantations.

 "Enough! I've had enough puzzles and torment to
last me several lifetimes.  Would you please just put me out of my misery and
explain who you are and how you know me?"

The man stood and smiled, pondering his request. 
"No. That wouldn't be wise.  Now is not the right time."

"When is the right time?  Why all this secrecy? 
It's driving me insane!"

"Olligh, my dear Olligh. What's happened to all
of your patience and understanding?"

 "What patience and understanding?  If I had any
then it died with me."

The man chortled and began to walk down the mound,
balancing himself on a protruding chair leg. 

"Patience has always been at the very core of
your being.  Now, what was it you used to tell everyone? Oh yes, a mage without
patience is like a storm without lightning.  How very true."

A memory flashed in Olligh's mind.  He remembered
sitting in a dark room with a log fire burning by his side. The smell of wild
cherry wood, and the gentle crackling sound as it burned, felt familiar and
comforting.  Outside, the rain pelted savagely against the building but he
didn't mind.  If anything, it helped to relax his mind, allowing him to
concentrate on his task at hand. As he gazed at the dancing flames, someone
tapped his shoulder.

"You not done yet, Olligh?" a man asked
gruffly. "I don't have all day to wait around for the dead to speak."

"They'll speak when they're ready.  Don't worry,
I'll find out what you need to know."

"You've been here for hours.  I don't understand
how you've got the patience to sit here with only a skeletal hand for
company."

"It's either that or we go outside in the dead of
night to try and find the rest of his remains.  At least we won't get soaked
here. Besides, this hand makes for an ideal back scratcher."

"Hrmph. Rather you than me."

Olligh chuckled. "You don't understand and most
probably never will.  A mage without patience is like a storm without
lightning."

At those words, sparks spat out from the fire and the
flames soared brightly. A haunting, rasping voice resounded around the inside
of the cottage.

"Ultrimm Alley!  Ultrimm Alley!"

They both peered over at the cottage window and
discovered the dead man they sought, his face pressed against the glass.

 "And there's your answer," Olligh said with
a smile.

At the bottom of the junk pile, the man stood to face
him. He leaned forward and smirked slightly. "Oh dear.  Death hasn't been very
good to you, has it?  I barely recognised you from my throne until you got
closer.  It was your prominent chin that gave the game away in the end."

Olligh felt his chin, assessing its length and girth. 
"What? There's nothing wrong with my chin.  It's not overly lengthy."

"Oh, my.  You're much more sensitive dead than
alive.  Has the rot afflicted your brain yet?"

"How dare you.  If you continue to mock me, I
guarantee you'll soon be missing that brain of yours."

"You've become ever so touchy and aggressive.  Nothing
like the Olligh I used to know.  I assume the Dark Cloaks have got something to
do with this dramatic change in your personality.  Have they force fed you something?"

Olligh shook his head. "I'm warning you.  I want
answers.  I've no time right now for patience. What do you know about me and
the Dark Cloaks?"

The man turned and began to walk away. "Come with
me.  I'll explain as we walk."

Olligh followed behind, trying not to stumble on the
debris underfoot.  "What happened here?"

"War... violence.  We're simply in a troubled
land where outsiders are not welcome."

"That's my life story.  Everywhere I go people
are trying to kill me. They all seem to follow the mentality of hit first and
ask questions later.  Mind, it's hardly surprising considering how I now
look."

The man led Olligh through an archway at the side of
the fort and up some wooden steps to the battlements.

"Yes, unfortunately, not many people wish to
communicate with the dead, unless they're trained specifically for that
purpose.  Fear consumes all sense of reasoning and they often presume the
worst."

Olligh reached the top of the steps and peered over
the edge of the battlements, admiring the view.  Woodland stretched for miles
around with the odd clearing and glassy lake thrown in for good measure.  In
the far distance, an impressive mountain range with peaks reaching up to the
clouds bordered the land.

"Beautiful view isn't it?" the man asked.
"One day it'll all be mine.  It's a land mostly untouched by man and,
apart from the warring tribes, a fine place to settle, don't you think?"

"Indeed, however, the company of mindless
skeletons would drive me insane.  Do you not miss polite conversation and the
company of others?"

The man stared inquisitively at Olligh. "I'm
surprised you still long for the company of others in your pox-ridden form. 
The skeletons are much more polite and endearing than people."

"Yes, well at least they haven't tried to kill me
yet.  I should be thankful of that.  I'll have to turn down any offers of
emotional involvement with them though."

The man smiled."It's unfortunate that people in
other worlds have shown a tendency towards aggression with you. You can blame
the Dark Cloaks for that.  You're fortunate they haven't gotten to you yet and
transformed you into a mindless, slobbering fiend."

Olligh recalled the cells he encountered in the Dark
Cloak's abode and the two creatures that tried to grab him. "I've
witnessed some of their creations.  Do you believe they're responsible for all
of this?"

The man nodded. "Their hearts hold shadows deeper
and darker than you could possibly imagine."

"But they blamed me for all of this.  They
suggested that my tampering with the cosmos was the main reason for the dead
now walking again."

"Lies! All Lies. They blame anyone but
themselves. You may not understand this yet but I guarantee they want rid of us
and the only way they can do this is by messing with our minds."

A sudden thought struck Olligh.  "What do you
mean they want rid of us?  You're not dead, are you?"

The man's raised his eyebrows slightly. "Ah,
you're still a clever fellow.  Yes, I'm dead like you but, unlike you, I've
accepted my new life and therefore I'm living happily once again.  Obviously,
my state of decay is kept under strict control.  No offense intended but I do
prefer the fresh faced look to the pus filled boils and cavities that plague
your skin."

"Interesting," Olligh replied, stroking his
chin. "Well, in that case, I'll need to take you back with me.  No matter
how you feel about them, the Dark Cloaks still need us."

Much to Olligh’s surprise, the man laughed sharply.

 "What's funny?" Olligh continued. "I
understand you've got personal issues with them but we need to clear the air
and hear what they've got to say for themselves."

"Have you not listened to a word I've just said
about them?"

 "Of course, but, regardless of your thoughts, it’s
quite possible that you’ve simply misjudged them.  I'm also sceptical of their
practices but, unlike you, I know no different.”

"You won’t be returning with me, Olligh.  I've no
intention of spending any more time with the Dark Cloaks and would prefer to
keep it that way."

Olligh shook his head.  "Unfortunately, I'm left
with no choice.  They’ve somehow blocked the way back. They won't let me return
to die and rest in peace until I’ve got all five missing Walkers with me."

"Tragic," uttered the man.  "Still,
what it does show is their lack of knowledge and understanding.  You can't
completely block a cosmic trail - there's always a way to reach your
destination."

"You seem to know a lot about the cosmos."

"I'm a mage like you.  It's to be expected."

"Well, are you going to come back with me or
not?"

"I'll tell you what, let's compromise.  So as to
show my cooperation and good intentions, why don't you find the next four
Walkers first and then we’ll search together for a solution to this unfortunate
situation?"

Olligh considered the proposition.  "Hmm... Very
well.  You have a deal.  It was interesting meeting you... Erm... you didn't
tell me your name, did you?"

"No, I didn't...  It's Cuthbert."

Olligh felt Cuthbert's eyes studying him, watching him
intently as if searching his face for a reaction.  He knew the name.  It felt
strangely familiar but he tried to not show it.  It was something he could
dwell on later.

"Very well, Cuthbert.  Until we meet again."

Cuthbert smiled cheerfully. "Yes, safe
travels."

Olligh concentrated on the cosmos, stretching his
hands out flat to the earth.

Veretois Cortisam!

The words of power activated the pull to another world
and a throbbing sensation of pure energy swirled around his hands.  Feeling his
head pounding, he closed his eyes and concentrated on the trail of energy that
led to the next walking corpse.  Where it was, and how it would react to his
presence, he could only guess.

Once everything had stopped spinning, Olligh found himself in a fenced
field next to a huge red and white striped circus tent.  Music blared from
somewhere in the trees above and a crowd of people were queuing near the
entrance to watch the performance.   Thankfully, nobody noticed him.  The field
where he lay was cloaked in darkness.  The only nearby light came from above
the tent, lighting it like a beacon to the world.