XXV

  Call of the Dead II

  Miranda ascended the stairs to the castle’s main office. They were a bitch in high heels. This is the last goddamned time. For a woman that was built like a man, the so-called Warden was indecisive. Over the last few days, she had summoned Miranda at least ten times to discuss “the terms of our deal”. Yet Miranda couldn’t name a single one the woman had set during their last meeting.

  She’s buying time. Miranda knew this. But what could she be buying time for? The warden knew she couldn’t go against them. Perhaps…could it be to find their hideout? Miranda scoffed. She wished the Warden good luck if so. Better Lords before her had tried and failed.

  When she traversed the last step into the hallway, she breathed in, preparing herself for what she knew would be there, then continued. Two undead, a human and orc, stood beside the oakwood entrance to the Warden’s office and Miranda stopped a little ways away from the pair. The human had changed since last time. The pristine black and blue shield on his back appeared part of his very flesh, like it had been forged from within and called into being. Similar was the black blade at his side, from which the putrid reek of death rose like steam.

  The human’s gaze fell on her and Miranda gulped.

  She cannot kill me, she reminded herself.

  But the cold, dead stare remained on her, and she began to doubt her reasoning. It was funny. Things you didn’t notice normally jumped at you when staring death in the face. The minute eye-movements, the hooded raising of their shoulders and chest, the twitch of a facial muscle. The undead lacked all. Only when it meant to, did it move. And it did so now, stepping aside to allow her entry.

  Miranda looked at the floor as she hurried past. It’s why she felt the change in atmosphere before she saw it. Her head snapped up and found the giantess lounged in her chair with her back to the entrance, staring at the shadow of the massive structure in the distance.

  The door clicked shut behind her.

  She cannot kill me, Miranda gulped, and she willed her rushing heart to slow.

  ‘Take a seat.’ The woman’s voice nearly made Miranda jump out of her skin. It had never been warm. But it had never been this cold either.

  Intimidation tactics, Miranda filed it away as and seated herself. ‘Wa—Warden,’ she swallowed. ‘…thank you for making the time to see me. I know how busy you are.’

  The Warden didn’t turn towards her, which unnerved Miranda more. When the room stayed silent, Miranda fidgeted in her chair, not knowing where to look.

  ‘Is…is something the matter, Warden?’

  The seat creaked as the Warden leaned forwards, but there was still no response.

  Fuck this. I’m not spending another day in this place.

  ‘Warden,’ Miranda said tentatively. ‘About our terms…I regret to inform you that the window for our deal is closing. Our company will leave, should we fail to come to an agreement by tonight.’

  Miranda thought for certain the silent spell would continue, but then the Warden spoke.

  ‘How deep does your loyalty run, Miranda?’

  ‘Sorry?’ The question caught her so off-guard she couldn’t do anything but blink. ‘My loyalty…Warden?’

  The giantess finally turned towards her, and Miranda froze. The gaze of the guard had been cold and piercing. That of the Warden was frigid and saw into her soul.

  ‘Your loyalty to the Black Heart Company,’ the Warden specified.

  A pause.

  ‘Are—’ Miranda stopped a hiccup trying to clog her throat. ‘Are you asking if I’d give you a discount…?’

  The Warden’s hands slowly linked under her chin. ‘What I’m asking, is what you’re prepared to do to save your own life.’

  A moment passed, one wherein Miranda couldn’t comprehend what she was hearing.

  The Warden stood and strolled towards a cabinet on the side of the room, where she removed two bottles of wine that she placed on her desk.

  Miranda stared as the bottles oscillated to a standstill. Something dark and sinister hummed within that seemed to call her name—Miranda wrenched her gaze away.

  The Warden was back in her seat, patiently waiting for her attention. ‘I’ve decided to kill and raise your party,’ she said like she was sharing a fact about the weather.

  ‘You can’t,’ was the first thing out of Miranda’s mouth.

  ‘I can’t?’ The woman’s head tilted before her frown lightened. ‘Ah, you mean because of the deal. This is not about that.’

  ‘It isn’t…?’

  The Warden shook her head. ‘I need manpower.’

  ‘Manpower,’ Miranda repeated.

  The Warden nodded. ‘More undead, to be specific. Your party happened to be at hand.’

  Miranda leaned back in her chair, beside herself. She had been threatened with her life more than once. It was the last refuge of any swindled noble, after all. But their statements, though they were always screamed with fervour, never carried any true intensity. Their owners didn't actually plan to kill her, not even if they caught her. A beating? Imprisonment? Rape? Possible. But killing was a line they wouldn’t cross.

  The Warden’s words didn’t carry any of the anger of a swindled noble. Yet Miranda knew the Lord in front of her would do exactly as she said. And the worst part? Miranda suspected the reasoning she gave was true—it was a decision based on pure chance and necessity. Nothing more, nothing less.

  ‘I’m just a negotiator,’ Miranda said with a sudden sense of clarity and calm. ‘Not even really a part of their clique. My death would mean nothing to them.’

  ‘Then I offer you an opportunity.’ The Warden pushed the two bottles across the table. ‘I’ve infused these flasks with my power. No one who drinks from it will survive the night.’

  Miranda reached out before stopping herself.

  ‘You may touch it,’ the Warden said.

  But when her hands fell upon the glass, Miranda wished she hadn’t. Cold didn’t begin to describe it. She let go immediately, yet couldn’t feel her fingers anymore.

  ‘I suppose you should wear gloves,’ the Warden said. ‘Return to me when the deed is finished. Should you think of running or telling anyone…well, you’ll see.’

  Miranda was silent on the way out.

  Morning had come, leaving the mountain shrouded in fog. The lack of ambient sound was ominous, Leah thought, surveying from a hill. Apart from a few trees, the white expanse was barren. And cold. Her lips tutted. What do you see in this place, Xun? If it was her decision, she would’ve left this dump behind ages ago.

  She shook her head. Hopefully his tomes were accurate, she thought, or her entire assignment would end up being a waste.

  Her slender finger reached for the rune in her satchel. It was warm but not hot. It must be near the peaks.

  ‘See anything?’

  She covered the rune with her sleeve, returned it to her pouch, and turned. ‘Nothing,’ she said.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Jaeger and Varrick trudged up the hill in their thick boots and hooded cloaks.

  ‘Has the mountain always been this quiet?’ Jaeger asked Varrick, now standing beside Leah.

  ‘No,’ Varrick said. ‘Just this lately.’

  Jaeger hummed. ‘Makes our job easier, at least.’

  ‘Do you truly think they’re here?’ Varrick asked. ‘No one spotted anything and they couldn’t have crossed from the other side of the mountain.’

  ‘Ask our expert,’ Jaeger said, nodding towards Leah.

  Varrick turned towards her, but Leah didn’t explain. ‘How long until we reach your base camp?’ she said instead. They’d climbed quite far already.

  Varrick eyed her but didn’t comment on her silence. ‘Two kilometres—so around half an hour. The camps are closer to each other once we reach the higher elevations.’

  Her chin dipped and she descended the hill.

  ‘…she always like this?’ the breeze carried Varrick’s question to her.

  ‘…you learn to deal with it.’

  Leah trod on.

  The base camp wasn’t more than a single, wooden shelter made of thick logs. Not very inviting but it was better than nothing.

  Leah watched Varrick roll out a map over the sole table. ‘There are a total of eight camps, including this one. I’ve marked their location.’

  Jaeger studied the drawing. ‘Should be more than enough for our purposes.’

  ‘Right.’ Varrick said. ‘Still, I advise not to underestimate the mountain. A stray blizzard or storm is enough to snuff out someone’s light.’

  Jaeger turned to Leah. ‘Where exactly are we headed?’

  ‘West,’ she said.

  The room paused to allow her to speak further. She didn’t.

  Drake, at the end of the table, coughed and Jaeger’s lip drew a line. ‘Look, I know you’re playing the aloof beauty, but I’ll need more than that if I’m to plan our journey and ready my men.’

  ‘I don’t have an exact location,’ Leah said, refraining from rolling her eyes. ‘All I know is that we need to go west.’

  ‘That’s not a lot to go on,’ Jaeger said.

  ‘It isn’t,’ she responded.

  Jaeger sighed. ‘So we make our way further up the mountain while keeping an eye out for anything suspicious.’

  Michael raised his hand and Jaeger motioned for him to speak.

  ‘How are we going to stop the orcs from spotting our approach?’ he said.

  ‘Besides keeping low?’ Jaeger said. He glanced at Leah.

  ‘Impossible if their magus is present,’ Leah said.

  The frostguards grimaced.

  But Leah had already been thinking of a solution. ‘I can cast a scrying spell and maybe catch a hint of their presence.’ She’d cast it a wide net since avoiding the magus’s detection wasn’t possible no matter what she did.

  ‘How long do you need?’ Jaeger said.

  ‘About an hour.’

  And so Leah got to work.

  The sky had faded from dusk to true dark. Malakai’s group had split up. One, counting Gregory, Ian, Martin and a few guards, was headed to the other towns to ensure their safety. But also, if any townsfolk had survived the massacre and hadn’t reached the castle by now, they would’ve travelled there.

  The main group (consisting of Malakai, Rider, Wraith, and some other frostguards) was headed towards Giantswood. Giantswood was north of the Weeping Lake, and they would have to pass by it if they were to make their way to the woods in a timely fashion.

  And they were making good time.

  ‘The marks are getting fresher!’ Rider said.

  They were. The caravan had either left Frosthollow late, or taken many breaks. Either way, we’re closing in. And given the direction of the caravan, it was most likely a bandit company.

  The marks grew deeper and more recent with every mile until their search party reached an area of flat land shrouded in moonlight. The caravan was there.

  ‘I count a little over a dozen,’ Rider said, squinting at the humanoid figures and four wagons around the campfire.

  There were women in the group, Malakai noticed, but he couldn’t tell if they were captives from this distance.

  ‘How do you want to approach this?’ Rider said.

  Malakai thought for a moment. A quick attack could decide this battle instantly, but it left them at risk. They had a mission to complete in Giantswood. Too many casualties would deter that.

  His hand went to the crystal core in his pouch. ‘I’ve got an idea.’

  Gerald sat in front of the dancing orange and yellow campfire that was their sole solace in the cold. He glanced to his right. The women they’d taken with them from Frosthollow trembled despite being huddled together.

  Hemmel whispered in the ear of a petite blonde lass, who kept her face as far away as possible from Hemmel’s crooked nose and yellow teeth.

  Gerald frowned. Hemmel had been annoying her the entire trip. Best to nip that in the bud before anything unpleasant happened.

  ‘The lady needs some space, Hemmel,’ Gerald said.

  ‘Bugger off, Gerald.’ Hemmel waved him away. ‘We’re enjoying ourselves! Right, Crystal?’

  The girl whimpered something indecipherable.

  ‘Give her some space, Hemmel,’ Gerald said. He locked eyes with the other bandit. A second went by and Hemmel remained in place. Gerald’s brow raised.

  …

  Hemmel clicked his tongue, and moved to another bench, where he began conversing with another bandit, no doubt badmouthing his leader.

  Gerald didn’t care and turned back to the campfire.

  ‘Thank you,’ the girl said. It wasn’t Crystal (she had used the space to retreat to the other women), but the one the girls had designated as their leader, Sarah. The hems of her blue dress stuck out underneath the white coat she wore, but didn’t cover her boots, which were full of holes from all the walking she had done these last few days.

  Gerald huffed. ‘Save your thanks for people that are worthy of it.’

  ‘And you are,’ she said. ‘We’d all be dead if it weren’t for you.’

  Gerald was still staring at the fire. In the dancing, the fluttering, he saw the swaying of the shadows he’d seen that night, could hear the wails of anguish riding the sky above the town. Rushing into that unknown had been the toughest decision of his life.

  ‘I didn’t do it for you,’ he said.

  ‘Even so, thank you.’

  The two stayed quiet for a while.

  ‘Have you been a bandit for long?’ she said suddenly.

  He glanced from the fire towards her. The white of her skin burned like the lanterns in a temple., but her pupils were dark and clouded. Maybe she, too, could hear the cries.

  ‘Too long to count,’ he said. ‘Why?’

  She smiled ruefully. ‘Do you get homesick?’

  The campfire crackled along with the soft grunt of quiet conversation.

  He huffed. ‘You’re asking the wrong person. I don’t have a home anymore.’ And because that made her ask the obvious, he added: ‘Frosvyre.’

  She released a breath. ‘The town destroyed by giants?’

  ‘That’s what everyone believes,’ he said. The thought soured the taste in his mouth. ‘But we’re not living in a fairy tale.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You don’t need blame the supernatural for monsters—we’ve got enough rulers.’

  She was about to ask for clarification, but a shuffle in the darkness beyond their camp caused Gerald and the others to leap to their feet. His sword cleared the scabbard in a blink.

  ‘It’s a single person!’ came the cry from the bandit sent to keep watch.

  A single person? Was it a lost townsperson? Gerald could see the man walking up to their encampment now. His hands were quite high in the air and far apart, so he was tall and well-built. Gerald squinted at the badge on the chest. The blue shield of house Vrost punched through the shadows.

  ‘Not another step!’ Gerald snarled.

  The man stopped right inside the illuminated ring of their camp. Now the others saw his insignia, too, and the women released a sob.

  Gerald cursed. He’d thought they’d made decent distance, but their pace had been too slow after all. He knew he should’ve left the women behind.

  ‘Is there a leader amongst you?’ the guard said.

  ‘That would be me,’ Gerald responded. ‘Why don’t you take a seat so we can have a nice little chat—after leaving behind that weapon of yours.’

  The guard eyed their caravans. ‘Those are the towns’s food supplies?’

  ‘Drop the weapon,’ Gerald said.

  When the guard still didn’t respond, Gerald reached out to the side. Sarah yelped as he yanked her by the hair. He put the blade against her throat.

  The guard quietly watched, his facial muscles shifting as if something he had expected had been confirmed.

  ‘Are you aware of who the Warden is?’ he said. He slowly reached for his belt and unstrapped.

  ‘The woman?’ Hemmel laughed. ‘She’s got giant knockers from what I heard.’ He leered at the well-endowed blonde he had pestered all night.

  ‘You don’t have to do this,’ Sarah whispered, careful not go speak too animatedly lest she cut herself open.

  ‘Shut up,’ Gerald snarled. ‘Hurry it up!’ he yelled.

  ‘That’s the one,’ the guard said, throwing his blade on the floor. ‘You may not know more about her, so I will offer you a piece of advice. Drop your weapons and surrender.’

  The dozen or so bandits guarding the caravan cackled, Hemmel the loudest amongst them. Gerald’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. After that night in Frosthollow, his instincts had been working overtime. There was something off about the man. Why was he here all alone? Surely, House Vrost had other guards?

  ‘I told you to take a seat,’ Gerald said. The knife pressed on Sarah’s throat, but the guard remained where he was. Gerald saw it, then: the pure relaxation in his stance. This was not a man under threat of being taken hostage or killed.

  ‘Heed my warning,’ the guard said. His tone was solemn, almost like he was pleading. ‘Or you won’t make it out of this alive.’

  His voice put Gerald on edge. Was the man crazy, to threaten their lives when they outnumbered him so? Even if he had reinforcements right behind him, he would die before they reached him.

  But often, when man lacked answers, it was because nature or time had swallowed them whole.

  A freezing sensation assaulted his feet, so Gerald looked down. Mist drifted over the ground. Confused, Gerald followed the direction of the fog. It had surrounded their campfire and was curled around the flame like a set of wet fingers.

  A snap, and their campfire was snuffed out like a matchstick.

  ‘What?’ Hemmel cried.

  ‘Everyone alright?!’ Another went.

  Gerald whipped back to the guard…and froze. Shadows as thick as the moonlight blocked all sight. And yet.

  From where the guard had been, an apparition rose from the frozen earth. Gerald could see it because shimmering lines ran down the length of its silhouette like meandering rivers and its eyes glowed icy blue in the blackness.

  A chill crept up from the floor. Cold, Gerald’s body screamed. It was colder than any natural breeze had any right to be.

  Gerald dropped his blade and let go of the girl. He turned and ran—

  But his feet didn’t move with him, so he fell over instead, his arms saving his face from crashing into the floor, and with it the mist. What the fuck? He glanced at his feet. The dark blocked his sight, but when he tugged, he felt something restraining them. They were stuck. Instinct stopped confusion from delaying, and Gerald’s hand shot out towards his feet to free them of whatever it was. Even as his mind gave the command, however, he noticed the distinct lack of feeling in his arms.

  Realisation turned to shock and horror. His arms could no longer move either.

  A low rumble crawled through the fog like laughter at the expense of another.

  He had been right, Gerald thought as the numbing cold climbed the rest of his body and his sensation vanished. One needn’t turn to the supernatural for monsters.

  But that didn’t mean the supernatural didn’t have them.

  His heart rate and breathing had already slowed down to a trickle. The cold was now at his throat. His eyes closed as he listened to the cries riding the night. They reminded him of something he couldn’t quite remember in the moment.

  Just as well, for the world fell silent before long.

  The Lich Queen despite the slow release, and especially those who decided to support me monetarily.