Zombie Mage (25 page)

"Ah, so you're the person responsible for that
spell?"

"Well, kind of.  They have strange switches on
the walls which make the light appear."

"Fascinating," Olligh said. "It certainly
helped-"

The creature groaned loudly behind them.  Turning,
they watched as it faded away back to wherever it originally came from.  Gull
was next to the creature, heaving himself along the floor towards them.

"It's another foul beast!" Michael yelled.
"Quickly, kill it!"

Marvin chuckled. "Well, you're on the right
track, boy, but unfortunately, we can't kill this one."

Michael gaped at the skull before returning his gaze
to Gull.

"Don't worry," Olligh said.  "That
hideous creature heaving itself towards us is actually a friend.  His name's
Gull.  As for the skull here, I'm not certain if it's friendly or not but, I
assure you, he doesn't bite.  His name's Marvin."

"The pleasure's all mine," Marvin said,
"but, I do bite sometimes so don't dare try prodding or poking me.  Pick
your own nose, not mine."

"Oh," said the boy, a look of relief in his
eyes. "Well, it's nice to meet you all. So, why did you decide to come
back here?"

"We've come for you," Olligh replied.
"Something's gone horribly wrong with the cosmos and we shouldn't be
here.   The Dark Cloaks in Ekelton have a way to release us from all of this
but you have to come back with us."

The boy stood still, quietly trying to absorb all the
information. "Oh, but what about my father?"

Olligh placed his hand on the boy's shoulder. "If
your father hasn't been here by now then I don't envisage he'll be passing this
way anytime soon.  So, are you up for it?"

The boy nodded. "I guess so.  I suppose I can't
stay here forever. Besides, look at the place now - it's a ruin.  When we get
back, do you think I'd be able to visit my home one last time and say goodbye
to my parents?"

"Oh, Michael.  I would really advise against
doing that.  Your parents would be horrified to see you again.  As far as
they're concerned, you're now at rest."

"I'm not sure. Do you not think they'd be happy
to see me again?"

"Michael, please understand that this is all
wrong.  We shouldn't be here. This situation shouldn't exist. What I'm
attempting to do here, with the help of the Dark Cloaks, is to put all the wrong
to right."

Michael lowered his head. "Okay, I guess you know
best."

Gull finally reached his destination and collapsed
next to Olligh, his arms outstretched on the floor. "I really need to
exercise more.  My arms are so weak. What happened back there?  I thought you
were a goner."

"Well, the cosmic pull proved too strong for me
to resist but I had a trick or two up my sleeve.  Rather than follow their
trail to the next destination, I managed to deviate from it and back track
here."

"Cheeky," Marvin said, "but
clever."

"And, on that note," Olligh said, "we
should be off.  We've got to collect Hetty and get some help from Cuthbert. 
Once we've done that, we can all expect a well deserved rest.  It’s certainly
something to look forward to."

 "Sounds good to me," Gull said.

"Yeah," Marvin agreed. "It's not easy
living with an empty head."

Olligh grinned at Gull.  He looked pathetic and
helpless on the floor. "Come on, Gull. We need to strap you up once
again."

Marvin laughed. "Watch out. He might grow to
enjoy it."

Gull didn't respond.  He was far too tired to bicker.

Sebastian Denlik was
quite nearly lost for words.  Visiting local villages to convert the local
peasant population from worshipping their pathetic gods to following the all
powerful Chektri was something that he didn’t enjoy doing anymore.  It was more
of a chore than it used to be and Denlik knew he would get asked the most silly
and absurd questions which only a half-wit could possibly devise.

Today
though was different.  The crowd were all huddled together in a circle around
the High Warden and they surprised him by asking the most taxing of questions,
even if some of them were rather stupid.

 “So,
what happens when we die?” asked one particularly overweight boy who’d just
finished picking his nose.

Denlik
coughed. “Yes, that’s a very good question, boy and one which I’ll endeavour to
answer in a way that you’ll understand clearly.”

“Well hurry up then,” somebody else said loudly from
the back of the crowd.  “It’s blinking freezing out here today.”

“Indeed,” Denlik continued, glad he was wearing his
fleece lined robe. “Well, when you die your physical shell is basically left to
rot until it becomes food for worms.”

“Eww!” a peasant woman said.

“But, during this process you’ll be whisked through
the cosmos to a new life somewhere else.  Perhaps even to a new world – a
better world.”

“Hah! He’s a bit heavy to be whisked away, ain’t he?”
a tall man asked.

“Watch your mouth, Timothy,” said a plump woman with
wild hair. “That’s my Horris you’re talking about there.”

“Well,” Timothy continued. “It’s a valid point,
Marge.  He’s quite a size to be whisked anywhere.”

Denlik sighed and folded his arms. “Look, it won’t be
him getting whisked away.  It will be his essence.  Did you not listen to me
when I said the physical shell rots?”

Timothy chortled. “Oh, right. Well there’ll be lots of
essence in him.  I hope there’s enough room in the cosmos for it all.”

“I’m warning you,” Marge said, her dark eyes watching
Timothy carefully.  “You say another bad word about my Horris and I’ll be
pummelling you with this here pastry roller.”

“How delightful,” Denlik said, attempting to change
the subject. “You left your home baking and other chores to come out here today.
You’re a dedicated mother and that’s wonderful to see.”

“Aye,” Marge replied. “I’ve got to make certain that my
Horris here doesn’t get into bother.  He’s always landing in trouble.”

“I see. Well, maybe, if Horris decides to join the
Dark Cloaks, we can help him stay out of trouble.  Now, does anyone else have any
more questions?”

A few people murmured amongst themselves trying to
think of interesting questions to ask.  Meanwhile, Horris removed his finger
from his nose and put his hand in the air.  “Erm, Mister, I haven’t finished.
I’ve got another question for you.”

“Oh, sorry. Do please continue.”

“What do you mean by essence?  What is essence?”

“It’s on the tip of your finger lad,” announced an old
man standing next to him.

Horris glanced at the lump of mucus sticking to the
end of his finger and squealed loudly.  Embarrassed, he quickly wiped his hand
on the side of his trousers, much to the disgust of those gathered near him.

Ignoring the old man, Denlik replied, “Oh, that’s another
good question, boy.  The essence is the real you, not merely the skin or bone
that encases you.”

Horris looked bemused. “I don’t understand.”

“Well, let me show you.  What do you eat with?”

“Eh?”

“When your dear mother bakes cakes for you, how do you
eat them?”

“Quickly by the look of him,” Timothy interrupted.

“That’s your last chance, Timothy Bragdon!” Marge
yelled. “Any more nonsense and I’ll be whacking you.”

Horris fidgeted. “Well, urm, I’d use my hands to pick
it up and my mouth to eat it.”

“Exactly,” Denlik said. “You use YOUR hands and YOUR
mouth but they aren’t you.  They just belong to you. Think of them as on loan
while you’re visiting this world.”

“Oh!”

“Yes, the real you is your essence.  It’s the bit of
you that remains once you die.”

“Okay... I think I understand.”

“Seriously, the mortal body is nothing.  It doesn’t
matter how you physically look.  It doesn’t matter how tall you are.  It
doesn’t matter how small you are.  What really matters is how you act and what
you do in YOUR life.  That’s the important bit.”

“Why’s it so important?” Timothy interrupted.

“It’s simple.  How you act determines where you are
taken when you die.”

The crowd murmured loudly, especially interested in
this new revelation. The only person who didn’t appear convinced was Timothy. 
He stood near the back of the crowd with his arms folded, the cold wind
ruffling his curly locks.

“Sounds like complete bollocks to me,” Timothy said
loudly over the chatter.

Denlik frowned. “And why is that?”

“When you die, everything ends.  You rot into nothing and
that’s it.  There is no cosmos and there is definitely no other place to go to. 
Life ends and you only live once. What you see is what you get, everyone.”

“I see.  Well, as you’re so knowledgeable about the
after-life, please do enlighten us and tell everyone how you know this.”

“Why should I? How do we know what you’re saying is
the truth?”

“Aye!” someone else shouted. “I haven’t seen your god
before. Where is he?”

“My god is the cosmos!” Denlik yelled. “You will all
meet him when you die and I hope for your sake that your life in this world has
been well spent for you will be judged!”

The crowd went quiet.  The only sound was a crow
cawing in the distance.

After a short while, Horris broke the silence.  He
waved his hand again and said, “I’ve got another question.”

“Yes?”

“Have you died before?”

Denlik wasn’t expecting such an absurdly interesting
question like this.  He stood, staring at Horris, quite taken aback that a
young boy could think such thoughts. “Erm... Well, that’s yet another good question
and, to be honest, it’s not one that I’ve really dwelled too much on.”

Horris beamed. “Thanks.”

“You see, young Horris, it’s not that simple to
comprehend.  When you’re first born your memory is clouded and new because,
don’t forget, it’s only a your and not a you.”

Horris looked genuinely confused.  In contemplation,
his finger edged up to his nostril again until he realised that everyone was
staring at him so he scratched his nose instead.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Well, similar to the metaphor that I used before,
think of your body as a cake.  Ignore the outside and how it’s made.  Instead,
think of what delightful, juicy bit could be stuck in the centre of the cake. 
That juicy bit is you.”

“Eh?”

Denlik realised he was struggling to explain. “Look,
nobody really sees the juicy bit of the cake until they take a bite.  The cake
is what it is but the inner essence is the important part that defines what
sort of cake it is.”

“Ah – I get you now,” Horris said with a smirk. “I’m a
cake and I have a juicy bit in the centre.  I wonder what sort of cake I am?”

“Definitely a fruit cake if you believe him,” Timothy
scoffed. “And, if you were a cake you’d probably not last very long because
you’d be too busy eating yourself.”

Marge wasn’t having any more of Timothy’s insolence. 
She spun round and elbowed her way through the crowd until she reached him. 
With one fell swoop, she knocked him on the head with her pastry roller.  He
didn’t have time to react and the glancing blow sent him straight to the ground.

“I know what cake you are!” Marge screamed at him. 
“You’re a cheese cake, just like your cheesy jokes and I won’t have you saying
anymore bad things about my Horris.”

Timothy didn’t retort with a witty remark, nor did he
try to defend himself.  He remained slumped on the ground, his head to one side
and his eyes wide open.  A pool of blood began to form around his head and many
of the villagers began to scream and panic.

“Oh!” Denlik said, “It looks as though you’ve killed
him.”

Marge dropped her roller and her arms dangled by her
side in shock.  She didn’t mean to kill him.  She just wanted to teach him a
lesson.

“He’s a deader,” somebody else uttered.

Denlik decided to take advantage of the situation.  He
reached into the pocket of his robe and retrieved the special crystal. 
“Everybody! Please don’t panic. This is an ideal time to show you the true power
of Chektri.”

Those that hadn’t fled the crime scene watched
tentatively as Denlik held the crystal arms length above Timothy’s head.  “Keep
watching, everybody!”

“What we waiting for?” a woman asked.

Before Denlik had a chance to explain, a green mist
emerged from Timothy’s mouth and slowly rose up towards the crystal where it
was eventually absorbed inside.

“That,” Denlik explained, “was the YOUR.  Timothy has
now been claimed by Chektri and is now, as we speak, drifting through the
cosmos to a new and better life all thanks to Marge.”