The Lady of Hope pulled into the island port at dusk. The tropical seaside town was alive with energy. Fishermen who had worked hard during the day had come to drink and forget their troubles around the night bazaar. Bonfires and torches were lit, musicians played uplifting music on wooden horns and bongos, women danced, and the men drank their fill. The oppressive heat of the daytime tropics gave way to a cool breeze which whistled through the numerous swaying palm trees.
“Ain’t she a sight to see lad! I always try to make a port call ‘n Coconut Bay whenever opportunity strikes!” proclaimed the Captain.
“It certainly has its charm…” Robert responded.
Coconut Bay’s peace was a welcome change from the cruel seas he had spent the last few days riding upon. He never imagined a skeleton could become seasick.
The crew laid the gangplanks and rushed to enjoy the pleasures of their port call, scrambling hurriedly over one another. Robert walked uneasily to the docks below. Fortunately, the islanders often wore ornate wooden masks during the evening festivities, one of which Robert cloaked his undead visage with.
“Oi! Seamus! Ye best be stayin’ away from the chief’s daughters this time!” The captain yelled, shaking his fist as he disappeared after his men.
Robert felt anxious at the thought of interacting with civilization again. Captain Morrison had been clear: fair treatment for fair work. As long as the Captain trusted a man, so did his crew. However, last time Robert was in a town, half of it got razed to the ground by fanatics, although admittedly he helped a bit himself.
The town’s main avenue was awash with merchants and vendors peddling their wares. Further down the sandy streets, cooks roasted large cuts of meat and fish over an open bonfire. A particularly boisterous chef was manning a cooking apparatus far too large to be called a pan, more like a large hulk of iron formed into a wok. He sang a loud, jaunty tune in his native language as he flipped vegetables and rice, the flames illuminated his merry face, and the contrast of the light collided with his sun soaked skin.
“I should come to the tropics more often! It’s been ages since I’ve had fresh huli fish,” Augustus exclaimed. Robert’s rodent companion looked around in a child-like awe.
“Big into crowds, Augustus?” inquired Robert.
“Of course! Not only are bazaars like this an excellent place to market my wares, but there’s always a selection of exotic items to discover and plenty of good food to fill my belly!” He patted his stomach in emphasis. “Why one of the best festivals I’ve been to was a harvest festival with livestock competitions, games, and endless food stalls. I was there with two of my companions, Charlotte and Wilbur. How I miss them so much!” Augustus reminisced.
“I can’t say I’m a fan. All it takes is for one person to see who I am and then we’ll be on the run again,”
“I’m sorry, my friend. I wish they could know you as I do,”
Robert continued to observe from afar, keeping his distance and watching just far enough to not arouse suspicion. He wandered around the edges of the bazaar, looming in the back of the crowds until the bright moon above shone and the crowds had begun to thin.
A twinge of envy shot through his body as he watched the locals dancing. They were so full of energy and life, something that Robert had neither of. Their moves were wild and chaotic, yet deliberate and choreographed. The bongos kept the rhythm and the wind instrum directed the melody.
“Why not ask a madam to dance?” Augustus offered.
“Are you joking?” Robert deflected.
“Most certainly not. I can see you yearning to join them.”
“Wha-”
“Body language, dear boy. A crucial language to speak in the merchant world.”
“Let’s say I did, it’s too much of a risk.”
“I’d say with how much rum everyone’s drunk so far, I doubt they’d notice even without your mask,”
Robert was silent for a moment.
“…I can’t dance.”
“Apologies, I couldnt quite make that out…”
“I can’t dance, alright!” Robert grunted.
“You can’t dance?”
“No…”
“Have you tried? You never know, you could have been quite the terror on the dancefloor in your past life,” Augustus chuckled.
“I’m an actual horror in this life. Besides, I wouldn’t even know what to do,” Robert pointed at one dancer. The indigenous woman wore a revealing, yet elegant halter top and short linen skirt whose bright primary colorings contrasted with elegant bronze skin.
She took a partner, a muscular male with a bare, powerful chest who took her hand. He held her hand in front of them, then through subtle movements, guided her direction as she rotated around him in time to the bongo. In the climax of the dance, the man lowered their hands and the woman crouched. As he lifted his hand, they separated hands at the finger tips as he guided her to his shoulders where she cartwheeled along his broad frame and was gracefully guided back down to the ground.
“How much rum do I have to drink to do that?”
“Er- I suppose those moves would be outside of the skillset of someone who hasn’t learned the local arts,” Augustus frowned. “Still, it wouldn’t kill you to do with some interaction. Sailors make for loyal company and great conversation, but you should consider expanding your contacts. You never know what kind of friends you’ll find!”
Robert grimmaced. As much as Augustus tried to reassure him, he still felt anxious.
“You win,” Robert relented. “Not tonight, though. I want to get to know the island first before I get to know the people,”
“I’d say that’s a fair compromise!”
“Time fer ye to pull yer weight, lad,” said the Captain as he approached Robert in his hammock. August had developed a habit of sleeping on Robert’s chest while he read, unable and unneeding to sleep. Both stirred and turned their attention to the large sailor.
“Defending the ship wasn’t enough?” Robert huffed.
“‘Fraid not, Dead Man,” the Captain grabbed Robert by the wrist and pulled him to his feet, “Ye might not have muscle but ye can still move a crate,”
“You’d better help out, Robert. I’ll wait for you here! I might as well get some more rest until your return,” Augustus stretched out on the hammock.
“Not so fast, Mister Pierre. I’ve got a special task for ye.”
“Oh? I’m sure I’m not well suited for manual labor.”
“Nay, yer comin’ with me to market!”
“Oh dear! I can’t say I’d be much better sold to a butcher either…” Augustus patted his plump belly poking out underneath his velvet vest. “Though I could stand to lose a gram or two…”
“Believe me Mister Pierre, were ye only worthy of being an appetizer I’d have you roasted long ago.”
“What a relief! What do you need me for then?”
“That silver tongue of course! The islanders have always given me a fair price for our wares, but them foreign traders always think they can play against my good nature. As I would prefer to remain diplomatic, I could use a creature of such skill as yerself.”
“If I could put my silver tongue to use, then I shall do just that!”
“Then hop aboard, lad!” Captain Morrison leaned down to allow Augustus to scurry onto his shoulder. The Captain turned his attention back to Robert. “As fer ye, go find Bosun Quinco on the dock,”
Captain Morrison turned and headed for the gangway back up to the top deck. Robert grumbled and cleaned up his belongings and placing them in his knapsack. He was already wearing his white blouse and black breeches, but since he would be going out in daylight he slid on a pair of gloves and wrapped up his head with a cloth covering.
When finished, Robert clambered up the ladder, across the deck, and down the gangplank. The bosun was already on the wooden docks below, directing the crew on where to place their wares.
“Quinco? The Captain sent me to help,” said Robert, striding up to him.
“Good, we could always use another hand,” the Bosun pointed a tattooed hand towards a stack of barrels and boxes to his left, “These are bound for delivery to Haven, in the Victorian Empire. Captain Morrison said you were looking to journey there,”
“It’s my best lead so far,”
“I have some contacts in the city, I’ll pass them on before you leave us. For now, load these aboard.”
“I have to bring all of these all the way into the hold?” Robert eyed the large and heavy containers with some concern.
“No offense intended, but I don’t think you could carry a single barrel all the way to the hold,” the Bosun pointed at some of his crew members who had formed into a line, passing sacks and barrels to each other all the way up the rear gangplank of the Lady of Hope.
“It looks like they have it covered,”
“Fill in where you can. If everyone’s giving a little bit of effort, it makes the job easier and faster.”
“Robert groaned to himself and complied, filling in a space between two of the men just at the base of the gangplank who moved aside to allow him to enter. From the front of the line, One of the crew picked up a boxed and handed it to the man next to him and passing it up the line. Robert watched as the item approached, feeling some anxiety as he had not carried something so heavy just yet.
I hope my arms don’t fall off…
When the box was passed to him, he felt the heft of the dead weight, but only for a moment as he brought the box close to his abdomen and passed it of as quickly as he’d received it. They repeated the process for a multitude of items, each time being passed up and carried to the hold. Robert’s worries vanished, as he spent more time waiting for the bags and barrels to make their way up to him than he did hefting the items.
“Last crate!” said the sailor at the front of the line. As it passed, the men broke ranks and scattered. Robert took the box, passed it on, then walked over to Bosun Quinco as it was sent up the chain.
“That wasn’t so bad,”
“Remember well that it’s not weak to rely on others. Even for someone in a state such as yours, there are those that will accept you.”
“Do you have anything else for me besides the morality lesson?”
Bosun Quinco huffed, “No. I’ll tell the Captain you helped out,” his face turned from an irritated scowl to a friendly smile, “Some of the men are heading into the village for lunch. Why don’t you join them?”
“Thanks, but I don’t eat.”
The crew finished their job just around noon. With only time on his hands, Robert wanted to see what the island was like in the daylight. He set off through the streets, awash with an entirely different tone. The air hung with the pleasant whistling tunes of the laborers who were still hard at work around Coconut Bay, but all were focused on their jobs with intensity. The bazaar stalls of last night were closed; however, some islander vendors could be seen hurriedly organizing their place of business in preparation for the evening rush.
One structure caught his eye. A bamboo hut with a thatch roof sat towards the end of the gravel-marked avenue, dwarfed and nearly concealed by the neighboring adobe structures. Charms and other arcane items hung above the entrance, along with an elegant curtain embroidered with unfamiliar symbols. The odd decorations had a familiarity that piqued his interest.
“Augustus did say I should try interacting with the locals…”
Inside, an old woman tended to her hut, dusting off bookshelves and reorganizing items. She was dressed in gorgeous flowing robes, dyed in bright vermillion and red, with ivory binds woven into her silver-streaked raven hair. As she went to reshelve a book, she noticed Robert staring timidly into the hut from the doorway.
“Ah, a new customer! Yobaba knew you’d be coming about this time! Please don’t be shy; come in and sit!”
“Oh no, I was just looking. I’ll be on my way…” said Robert as he turned to leave.
“Nonsense, you were destined to be here!” She jogged over to Robert and took him by the shoulders, guiding him to a carved mahogany chair to which Robert found himself submitting to her direction. She took a seat at the opposite end and smiled at him.
“What can Yobaba do for you today?”
“I’m not really sure. What is this place?” Robert looked around at all of the occult items decorating the interior.
“Ah! Travelers with questions are Yobabas favorite! You’re not a traveler from this life, though, are you?”
Robert was stunned. “W-what do you mean?”
“Yobaba’s home is a safe space. You may remove your mask, traveler. Yobaba can see everything the universe allows her to view,”
Robert reluctantly removed his head coverings, slowly revealing the bleached skull of a dead man come back to life.
“I need to know who I am,” he declared.
“You wouldn’t believe how often Yobaba hears that!” She waved her hands, and the flames of the candles illuminating her shack were extinguished by an unseen force. Yobaba took his hands and closed her eyes, humming a deep and mysterious tone.
“There is a great darkness inside you, Surkaan,” she groaned, her eyes shut tightly as she channeled some manner of clairvoyance.
“Surkaan? What’s a Surkaan?” Robert asked with confusion.
“It is your true name!”
Robert was struck by a rush of energy. His vision went black momentarily until his sight was overcome with a tidal wave collage of horrific scenes. Twisting towers, scorched landscapes, eviscerated bodies, razed cities, humans torn apart and impaled on pikes, endless rivers of blood, and pools of gore.
Finally, he caught a grasp of a longer vision. This time, he watched without control as the vision played out from a personal perspective, as if he were in another body being controlled like a puppet. He looked upon the aftermath of a skirmish in a meadow. Long-dead bodies lay upon the lush grass, dried blood soaking into the ground, having nearly been cleansed by the flow of rain in the spring weather.
One of his arms raised with a sickly, elderly hand at the end holding a twisted staff that appeared to be made from bone and flesh. The staff appeared to be moving, the leather writhing around the length of the rod and culminating around a glowing emerald at the head. Flowing black, violet, and golden robes covered his arms and draped down to the green grass of the meadow.
“Toh kah’so mah’lech!”
The jewel began to glow with sickly green energy and emitted a field that spread to encompass the meadow. The morning sun was temporarily dimmed from the competing light which moved over the vegetation, browning the verdant grass and withering the nearby shrubbery. Miniscule blue particles floated from the now-dead plants and absorbed into the macabre staff.
“Haman lek’esh nariah!”
The jewel began to glow brighter, and arcs of fiery green lighting shot from the staff and made their way into the corpses on the ground, which began to twitch and jerk with new life. Slowly, the slain soldiers rose to their feet. They were in various states of decay, most with exposed bone after being picked over by local scavengers. They turned to look at Robert with soulless flaming eyes.
“Yes!” Robert shouted with an unfamiliar tongue, a gruff and ragged voice, “Rise my children, for you are now my Legion!”
His vision jumped again.
Robert now strode along a burning highway pocked with catapult-impacted craters. A rotten army numbering in the thousands marched in front of him, unflinching as arrows rained from the sky and into their decrepit bodies. The vanguard had reached a village’s hastily constructed trenches and fortifications, where the undead warriors had drawn blades and had already begun to overrun the defenders.
The humans blew a horn, signaling a retreat, doing their best to enter through the closing gates while most were mercilessly struck down with a sword or rotten arrow in their backs. The massive timber and stone gate slammed closed, leaving stragglers to be consumed by the horde.
Robert felt a rush of ecstasy as he moved closer to the carnage. His staff drank the ambient mana emanating from the freshly spilled blood of his army’s victims, and by proxy, he could feel his own power flare inside. The prominent veins on his once sickly, aged hands began to recede, and the pale color returned to healthy young tones and textures.
“Mana always tastes so sweet…” Robert remarked out loud.
Robert watched the undead army, his army, throw themselves at the gate, pushing and hacking at the adjacent palisades in search of weak points in the structures. Fallen defenders, compelled by the power of Robert’s staff, joined the attackers they were slain by just moments prior.
Finally, something gave in the defenses, and a gap in the walls was opened. The undead pushed into the hole, widening it until the relentless legion was pouring into the village. Robert laughed, not one of humor, but a malicious laugh delighting in the sounds of screams and the clang of metal on metal, which grew louder from the other side of the gates.
His vision jumped once more, and Robert found himself standing in the plaza of a keep. He still had his army by him, but they were in conflict with a much stronger military force. From his time in Freistadt, he recognized the presence of the Holy Knights by their armor as they traded blows with the undead soldiers.
Robert held a grimoire in his left hand and chanted incantations, summoning fire and ice that struck down the Knights. He felt himself smirk, as he knew with every enemy he fell was another ally he gained when he raised them from the dead. The crusaders were putting up a good fight, but he felt he had the upper hand.
Robert strode through the carnage, casually casting out a spike of ice as a Knight tried to break through the conflict to strike him down. The ice struck him in the belly and pinned him to the muddy floor of the keep’s courtyard. Robert turned his attention to the fallen Knight and put his staff to the warrior’s throat.
“Where is the reliquary in this fortress? Your cohorts have an artifact I desire,” Robert said in the same unfamiliar voice.
“I’ll… never tell you…” the Knight croaked as blood filled his lungs.
“Tell me, and I’ll put you out of your misery,”
The Knight held defiant, even in his suffering, but his gaze betrayed him as the Holy Knight rolled his head up to the cathedral spire.
“Much obliged,” Robert cackled.
He pushed the gem of the staff to the Holy Knight’s forehead. The Knight screamed in agony as the gem began to glow and drained the young knight into a husk. His face became wrinkled and sunken, his eyes shutting tightly until his body fell limp. Suddenly, his eyes opened again, the white orbs having been encompassed by the sickly green fire the same as the rest of the undead thralls. The reincarnated Holy Knight took to his feet, expectantly staring at Robert for orders. Robert felt himself cackled as he pointed to a cluster of human warriors already engaged in battle. With a rattling screech, the transformed Knight charged toward the humans.
“ This is too easy… Now, about retrieving the Arc of Palemon…”
Roberts’ vision flashed forward as he strode up the marble steps towards the reliquary tower. He took his time, feeling invincible despite the melee proceeding below him. Smugly, he decided to turn and face his handiwork, breathing in the aroma of the deceased from below.
“Foolish humans. You are helpless against me while I am only a man. Let’s see how well the empires fare against a god!”
Robert cackled as he turned back and began walking up the steps leisurely. His victory was nigh; why not enjoy it?
Suddenly, a sharp pain appeared in his chest. Startled, he gazed down to see the spreading crimson soak into the violet vestments of his robes, and he collapsed on the stairs, his breath ragged. Stricken with pain, he tried to turn to face the courtyard below him but struggled to move as an object impeded his movements. He reached back to feel the flight of the arrow, which had pierced him through a rib and penetrated through to the right of his sternum.
Fear spread through Robert’s body with a cold sensation as he began to go into shock.
“No! No, I can’t be stopped!”
His eyes searched madly for any sign of his attacker until he saw a young knight, barely an adolescent, with a mousey face, blue eyes, a crooked nose, and tangled brown hair, readying his bow for another shot. He was far away, barely in view and much further away than any bow could fire. Yet, Robert lay struck.
“Damn you! I can’t perish before I become a god!” Robert cried out. “Gragh! I had hoped I wouldn’t have to use this spell…”
Robert opened the grimoire and flipped to a page towards the back of the tome.
“Here we go! A spell to save the mind and soul with the loss of the body…” Robert cleared his gravelly throat “Nak’to me bin’ur… Grom ullur mediko… Hakon rem tu-”
Robert saw the arrow let loose as he chanted the dark spell. He felt a tremble as the projectile flew towards his face, encompassed in a glint reflected by the light of the sun, almost giving it a heavenly aura. He felt the tip of the arrow penetrate his skull, and the world erupted into an inferno of green flame before fading to black.
Robert awoke with a gasp, snapping back to once again examine the interior of the bamboo shack. Night had fallen, and entire day had passed in his trance, and Yobaba was nowhere to be seen. She seemed accepting of him at first, but Robert felt a sharp spear of panic in fear that she may have alerted local authorities.
He left the hut in a hurry. Now that it was nightfall, the villagers had all come out to celebrate the end of the day as usual, and the crowd had reformed. Robert donned his mask and slipped into the large cluster of people walking up and down the main avenue. If he still had sweat glands, he could fill buckets. All he could feel was fear and anxiety. Robert kept glancing behind him to see if anyone was following him. As he did, he bumped into villagers and unwittingly drew much more focus on him than he had wanted.
Robert scrambled up the gangplank and made his way to the hammock inside the ship, which had been made his quarters. He had no lungs, but he imagined if he did, they would be hyperventilating at this moment.
“Robert! There you are! You made me absolutely sick with worry!” Augustus emerged from a tiny roost in the window where he had made a tiny nest.
“Sorry, Augustus,” Robert said, easing himself slightly at the sighting of his friend.
Augustus came running up onto Robert’s shoulder and immediately sensed his discombobulation.
“What’s the matter, my boy? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”
“I might just have,” said Robert. “I went to see a mystic woman while you were out, and she showed me some terrible visions with dark magic. She had this power over me like I was spellbound by her will. She called me by the name Surkaan,”
“Perhaps that’s the name you had before you died? Can’t say it’s very common,” Augustus offered.
“Maybe. She was gone before I snapped out of whatever trance she put me under,”
Robert turned over in his hammock and tried to collect his thoughts.
All those horrible things she showed me. That couldn’t have been me, could it? No, surely it was a trick…
He didn’t feel he was capable such evil, however he certainly couldn’t claim he was innocent in this life. The people he’d killed put him in a fight or die situation, but he still felt some remorse over their deaths. That feeling when they died, though…
A flash of pleasure shot through his mind as he remembered the sensation of their lifeforce flowing into him. The joy, the tingling, the excitement-
Robert shook his head and pushed it from his mind.
That’s wrong. It’s one thing to kill in defense, another to revel it…
His intrusive thoughts disturbed him greatly. To try to alleviate them Robert decided to focus on the here and now, choosing to remain sequestered in the hold and continue to practice maintaining control over his strange abilities.
The truth would come sooner or later.
5711 Writing 