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Everyone stared at the necklace in Nosmas’s hand. The red eyes of the dragon pendant had become dull where before they had shined brightly.
“What do we tell Sam?” Ria asked.
“Nothing,” Tor replied. “It will only upset her and I want to avoid that as much as possible right now. Besides, she and Dean seem to be finally working things out and announcing that he was the cause of her nightmares might undo all of the progress they have made.”
“I agree,” Mama Rose stated. “I will return the necklace to her and hopefully she will not notice that it has changed.”
Sam, however, did notice. As soon as she awoke and her gaze fell on the pendant, she saw that the eyes no longer shone. When questioned, everyone acted innocent, claiming they had no idea what the cause could be. Eventually Sam had no choice but to let the matter drop.
“I am glad it means so much to you,” Dean told her. He did not notice Nosmas wince at his words.
Mama Rose interrupted, stating that she needed to assess Sam’s recovery. Tor had indicated that he wanted to leave as soon as possible, but the elderly witch refused to give her consent for Sam to depart unless she was sure the journey would not be detrimental to her health, or that of her unborn child. Ellen went with them, in case there was anything she would need to do for Sam, should they be given permission to leave.
While Mama Rose and Ellen were with Sam, Brodin caught Tor’s eye and tilted his head towards the door. Taking the hint, Tor followed his brother into the garden.
“There are a couple of things we need to discuss,” Brodin said as the two Princes walked slowly next to the flowerbeds. “Queen Tibia has started to think about marriage and I told her we could make some suggestions, once this quest is over.”
“I take it you already have some ideas,” Tor stated.
Brodin smiled. “Just one.” He told Tor the name of the man he thought would make the ideal husband for the young Queen. Tor could not keep the grin off his face when he voiced his agreement.
“I think between us we can make this happen as soon as we are in a position to do so. You are sure that Tibia will agree.”
“Pretty sure, yes,” Brodin confirmed.
“So what else is on your mind?” Tor asked.
The smile dropped from his brother’s face. “What happens when the quest is over? Who will be King?”
Tor laughed. “That is easy. You will be.” Brodin started to argue, but Tor silenced his protests by raising his hand. “Think about it. Do you really think it would be a good idea to put either me or Cirren on the throne?”
“You have a good point about Cirren,” he conceded, “but you will make a good King.”
“Who knows? Stanger things have happened. But the point is, I do not want to be King.” Tor squeezed his brother’s shoulder affectionately. “You are the only valid option I am afraid, your Majesty.”
“Cut it out,” Brodin ordered. “I am not your ruler yet.” The look that accompanied his words told Tor all he needed to know. Brodin knew he was right and would take the crown when the time came. If the time came.
“Will you do me a favour,” Brodin continued.
“You know I will do anything you ask.”
“If I die before we finish this quest, promise me you will do what needs to be done.” Tor wanted to assure his brother that he was worrying about nothing, but he knew he would be lying if he said the words. Instead he just nodded his head.
The mood had turned somber, so Tor attempted to lighten it. “I know one thing for certain. If I live through this, so will either you or Cirren.”
“What makes you so sure of that?”
“Because if I am left alone with mother, I will have Mama Rose reincarnate one of you. There is no way I am going to suffer alone.”
The two Princes were laughing once more by the time they returned to the kitchen.
Once darkness had descended, and Hawk had awoken, the group said their goodbyes to Mama Rose and started what they hoped would be the final leg of their journey. Both Mama Rose and Ellen had certified that Sam was well enough to leave the cottage, though they did force her to promise to ride in the wagon instead of on Thresnine’s back. It did not take them long to reach the Great Highway and head in a westerly direction.
Dean drove the wagon. He wished to be close to Sam and was constantly checking on her, making sure she did not need to take a break. His concern, though understandable, soon began to feel more like smothering and when he asked how she was feeling for what seemed like the hundredth time, she snapped her reply at him. Thresnine, who had insisted on pulling the wagon, turned her head back and Dean was sure she was grinning at him.
“What is so funny?” he asked the horse.
“Nothing,” she replied, turning her attention back to the road.
“Is it possible for a horse to snigger?” Dean asked Sam, who smiled at him. “I was over doing it a bit wasn’t I?”
“Just a little,” she confirmed. “The word irritating definitely springs to mind. If I am feeling unwell or need a rest, you will be the first to know.”
A sound came from behind them as Hawk landed in the wagon. “How are you feeling?” he asked.
Sam sighed dramatically. “Not you as well.”
“She is obviously recovering,” Hawk commented to Dean, ignoring the glare Sam directed at him. “The sun will be up soon so I am going hunting. I just stopped by to let you know that there is a bridge over the next hill. You may want to take a break before crossing. The land becomes rather barren on the other side, so it is the last shelter you will have for a while.”
“Thanks,” Dean said. “Speak to Tor. I’m sure he will agree with you.”
The stop was brief, just long enough for the horses to drink and graze and the humans to take care of ‘bathroom needs’, as Seth put it.
“Bathroom needs indeed,” Sam could be heard muttering as she made her way into the trees for some privacy. “You need an actual bathroom to have bathroom needs.”
“How long till we reach the next town?” Dean asked Tor as he watched Sam disappear from sight. Ria and Ellen had both gone with her so he was not concerned about her safety.
“We should reach Camal in a few days. Why?”
“I think Sam is getting fed up with peeing behind a tree now that she is having to go so often. We may want to consider leaving her at an inn somewhere before her complaining becomes unbearable.”
“She has never had a problem travelling long distances before,” Tor commented, concerned that Dean was being serious.
“But she has never been pregnant before, has she.”
“I will speak to her as soon as she returns.” Tor did not see the grin on Dean’s face as he turned away to head into the woods himself.
Sam did not react well when Tor suggested that she might wish to stay in Camal while the rest of the team continue on to Orion. She calmly listened to his reasoning as he pointed out to her that either she or Dean had to enter the mysterious city, but not necessarily both. Also, at some point before reaching the mountains, they would have to find somewhere to leave the wagon, and therefore Hawk and his coffin, and he was sure that Hawk would appreciate her company. She did not say a word until he had finished his logical argument. She then proceeded to explain, in great detail, exactly what he could do with his suggestion. Ellen, overhearing the commotion, ran over and attempted to calm her down, stating that she was upsetting the baby.
“I think you were right,” he whispered to Dean, who was standing near by, watching the show.
“What did you just say?” Sam asked, overhearing the comment.
“Dean suggested that, due to your pregnancy, you might become unpleasant to travel with.” Tor was quite happy to redirect her anger away from himself.
“Did he now?” she said, reaching out to grab Dean’s ear. “Come with me,” she ordered, pulling him into the woods. Nobody could hear what was said, but when they returned, an abashed looking Dean apologised to Tor.
“I am sorry I set you up. I thought she was more likely to listen if you suggested she remain behind than if I said anything.”
“Do not worry about it,” Tor said. “Now, we should get moving.”
“Smart move,” Seth said to Dean in a hushed voice as he walked past him. “I will have to try that next time I want Dal to not do something dangerous.”
“I heard that,” Dal said, elbowing her husband in the ribs.
Once they were safely across the bridge, the scenery changed. Where on one side of the river were trees, grass and other plant life, the other side had nothing living as far as the eye could see. Though it was night, the moon provided enough light to see adequately. When Hawk had described it as barren he had not been exaggerating. There was nothing but dry muddy fields, stretching out on both sides of the highway.
“What on earth caused this?” Sam wondered aloud.
“War,” Brodin said sadly. “Not far from here there used to be a great stone fortress. It was said to be impenetrable. Whenever an invading army arrived, the local villagers used to hide inside the fortress with enough supplies to last a few years. The various sieges never lasted that long though. The attacking army soon ran out of food, or patience.”
“So what went wrong?” Ellen asked with interest.
“One commander, a long time ago, was given orders to take the fortress no matter what the cost. He had his magicians create a chemical that would burn fast, with thick black smoke, and he had his soldiers spread it over the entire land surrounding the fortress. When he set light to it, his magicians took control of the wind, making it blow towards the fortress from all directions.”
“So he smoked them out,” Seth observed. “Not a bad tactic.”
Brodin shook his head. “I wish you were right. That was his intent, but his plan went wrong. He did not realise that the chemical the magicians created was poisonous. The smoke it produced when ignited was deadly. Everyone inside the fortress died within minutes, men, women, children. Even their pets and cattle. Thousands died. When the commander’s men scaled the undefended walls and saw the devastation they had caused, it is said that many threw themselves off the fortress walls. It would take too long to bury all of the corpses and the risk of disease was too great to leave them in the open, so the fortress was destroyed and all of the bodies were buried under the rubble.”
“So why has nobody claimed the land and replanted if this all happened so long ago?” Dean asked.
Patrick, who also had heard tales of the land’s history, answered the question. “Two reasons. Firstly the land is poisoned. Nothing will ever grow here again.”
“And the second?” Dal asked.
Patrick looked around at his friends before answering. “I am sure there is no truth in the tale, but the story goes that the poison that killed all of those people had a nasty side effect.”
Seth scoffed. “The people died. How could there be any sort of side effect?”
“They did not stay dead.” Everyone looked at Patrick, expecting him to start grinning, but he didn’t.
“You’re not serious,” Dean said in disbelief. “Are you saying they turned into zombies?”
“I am saying nothing. I am merely repeating what I heard. Once the sun had set on that fateful day, the dead rose from the ruins of their fortress and attacked the enemy soldiers, eating them alive.”
Quartilla shivered. Nosmas put a comforting arm around her shoulders. “That is just a silly ghost story told to frighten children,” he announced confidently.
“You may be right,” Patrick agreed. “All I know is that nobody has ever tried to live in this area since, and travellers will avoid this part of the road at night if they can.”
“I think that is enough talk for now,” Tor said loudly, breaking the eerie atmosphere. “We have a long way to go and the sooner we reach our destination the better.”
Dawn was in the process of arriving when the group rounded a corner and saw ahead of them the fortress ruins. As they approached, it became evident that the road they were following veered away from the ruins.
“Can we take a closer look?” Sam asked.
Brodin looked apprehensive, but Tor agreed. He, too, wanted to see the remains of a building that had once withstood multiple assaults many years previous. He helped Sam down from the wagon and escorted her towards the stonework. Dal trotted after them, followed by a reluctant Seth.
“This place has a really bad feel to it,” Dean commented as he joined them. It was uncomfortably silent, the only sounds being the ones made by their footsteps.
“That’s strange,” Sam said in surprise when they drew close enough to see the ruins clearly. “There is no sign of decay. No moss or lichen is growing anywhere.”
“Patrick did say that nothing grows here due to the poison,” Tor reminded her. “It looks like he was right.”
“Do not touch that,” Seth suddenly called out. Dal, who had been about to place her hand on the edge of the remains of what looked like a tower, quickly withdrew it. “It is probably safe after all this time, but there is no point in taking risks.”
“I wonder if there was any truth behind Patrick’s zombie tale.” Sam said speculatively.
“Who knows? Anything is possible,” Tor replied.
“It feels colder here than on the road,” Dal observed, shivering. “Or is it my imagination?”
“If it is, I’m imagining it too,” Sam told her. “I think I have seen enough. This place does not have a nice atmosphere. I know it’s impossible, but I almost feel like the ruins do not want us here.” Without waiting for anyone to comment, she turned around and walked back to the wagon.
The others soon rejoined their friends and headed off down the road, leaving the ruins and the oppressive atmosphere behind them. Once they were out of sight, a lone figure emerged from where he had been hiding behind the remains of the fortress. He pulled back the hood of his cloak and smiled.
“So, you have heard the tales about the undead have you?” he said to himself. “But you doubt that they are true. I think I may have to make them a little more real for you.” He pulled his cloak tighter around him, whispered a few words and vanished.
He materialized in a small room at the top of a tall tower, which he was currently using as his workroom. He took down a large book from a shelf and leafed through it until he found the page his was looking for. Grinning broadly, he began his work.
The group continued travelling for a few hours, determined to put the ruins far behind them before stopping for some sleep. A nervous atmosphere surrounded them, so a double guard was posted. The rest of the day passed uneventfully and the journey continued long before sun-down. The first sign of life they came across was a lone bird, which flew overheard on silent wings. Dean called out to it, but it did not answer, choosing instead to deposit its excrement on his shoulder. Swearing loudly, he tried to wipe it off with his sleeve, but only succeeded in spreading it around further. Nobody noticed the bird as it suddenly veered to the right, as if it had been called, and it was impossible for any of them to see it land on the outstretched arm of a cloaked figure standing behind a small mound that they had recently passed.
“Good girl,” the man said as he softly stroked the bird’s feathers. “You did well.” He reached out and gently picked the bird up, holding its wings against its body with his hand. He kissed it on the beak before taking hold of its head with his other hand and twisting violently enough to break its neck. He opened his hand and let the dead body fall to the ground before turning his attention to the creature crouching beside him. “I created you for one purpose and one purpose only. When darkness falls, kill the man my bird has just marked.”
The creature looked up at its master and slowly nodded its head.
––––––––
Hawk awoke as soon as the sun set and volunteered to scout ahead. He flew forward, following the path of the road on which they were travelling, so he did not notice the creature that was following the group a short distance behind. It held back far enough to keep its quarry in sight without allowing the horses to sense its presence.
Hours slipped by and eventually, when the creature was beginning to get impatient with waiting for the right opportunity to perform its task, the group stopped for a short rest. As soon as Dean dismounted, it attacked, its teeth reaching for his throat.
Quartilla was the first to hear movement behind her and turned around, screaming when she saw what was launching itself at Dean’s back.
“Jesus Christ, the stories were true,” Sam exclaimed as Dean turned at the last minute and the creature flew past, landing in a heap on the ground. “It’s a zombie.”
It stood up and looked around, grinning when it spied Dean. It looked like a short, emaciated human, with grey skin, sunken eyes and thinning hair. Combined with its tattered clothes, it was exactly how most of the group had imagined the reanimated corpse of one of those who had died horrifically in the fortress would look.
“That is not possible,” Nosmas said. “There is no such thing as zombies.”
“Whatever it is, it is about to die,” Patrick announced, drawing his sword.
“Be careful,” Tor warned. “You are mortal now remember.”
The zombie snarled as Patrick approached. He circled it, sword pointed to the ground, ready to raise it at any moment. Unexpectedly, it ignored him, watching Dean instead, trying to calculate if it could reach him before anyone could stop it. Standing behind it, Patrick lifted the sword and took aim. There was no resistance and the blade sliced through the creature’s neck with surprising ease. The severed head flew through the air, landing close to where Dean and Sam were standing. The body, instead of crumbling to the ground, remained upright. Quartilla screamed once more when the headless corpse started walking forward.
“What type of monster is this?” Brodin asked as he drew his sword, closely followed by both of his brothers. Between them, the three Princes and Patrick hacked at the zombie, chopping it into pieces. Dal turned away from the gory sight as bits of flesh and bone slid bloodlessly off the swords onto the ground. The undead monster had no beating heart so the outpouring of blood that usually accompanied such a vicious attack was not present. One dismembered arm sailed high into the air, the long fingernails on the hand scratching Cirren’s face on its way down. He kicked it away from him, drawing back in horror as he watched the hand clawing in the dirt in an attempt to drag the arm along the ground.
“What do we have to do to stop this thing?” Tor wondered aloud.
“Allow me,” Nosmas volunteered, stepping forward. He spoke a spell and the pieces of decaying flesh ignited. They burned quickly, with bright blue flames, and soon all that remained were small piles of ash.
Everyone’s attention was on the burning bits of body, so none of them noticed that the head had been left untouched by the fire. Nobody saw a long green tongue flick from the mouth and curl around Dean’s boot, just below the ankle. Hearing a sickening slurp as it came into contact with the leather, Dean looked down. Before he had chance to call out in surprise, the tongue contracted, pulling the head towards it at great speed. As it made contact with Dean’s leg, the mouth opened wide, then closed down hard, biting through the material of Dean’s trousers and deep into his flesh.
Instinctively, Dean reached down, grabbed the head firmly in his hands and pulled it off him, ripping out a large chunk of his calf muscle, which remained dangling from the zombie’s jaws as he threw the head away from him. Nosmas incinerated it as Ellen and Sam rushed towards Dean, who had collapsed onto the ground, blood pouring from his leg.
“Will he be alright?” Sam asked in panic, the sight of his severely wounded leg making her feel faint and light headed. She knelt down beside him, holding his hand and cradling his head in her lap as he thrashed about in agony.
Ellen looked at Dean’s leg, then at Sam. “I do not know.”