A Different Kind of Deadly (9 page)

I thought about the years I'd
spent avoiding necromancers and their minions through the servant
tunnels in Nethermount. My paranoia was a hard-earned skill, one
that I'd practiced religiously to mitigate the times anyone saw me.
Diana may have superhuman senses, but she wasn't an exception to
the rule.

"Just tell me where the pits are,"
I said, confident in my lack of presence.

Duck smirked. "I'll do you a favor, Rook." He
reached under the counter and brought out a dark coat. "Those pits
have a name: The Harpy Den. If you don't want to be mistaken for
monster kibble, you'll need to act like a local."

"The Harpy Den," I repeated, freezing a bit on
the inside. "Anything else?"

"Just follow the road to the left once you
walk out the door," said Duck. "All streets in Krisenburg lead
there. The place is neutral ground for us undead, but don't make
the mistake of thinking your life isn't in danger once you step
foot outside. Got it?"

"Yeah." I pulled the coat off the table,
slipped it on, and was startled by how cool it felt against my
skin. Duck winked.

"Spent a small fortune to get that imbued.
Consider it my bet that you'll live long enough to return it to
me."

"You've got it." I turned to Leo. "You coming
along?"

"Always." He polished off whatever he'd been
drinking, and headed to the door.

I looked to my immediate left, as
Duck suggested, and laughed a bit at the sign hanging from the wall
of his establishment.

The inn was aptly
named
The Dead Man's
Tale
.

The streets closely resembled snake skin, or
burnt snake skin if I was being specific. The charred earth formed
a natural pavement, and the buildings seemed to be formed from the
same substance at a glance.

I caught sight of a skeletal laborer dipping
one of these flat stones into a limy, acidic canal, one that
branched into numerous smaller veins across the side roads. He
proceeded to slap it onto the side of the building in front of him,
and I realized that he was using it to sculpt the stone, melting
portions to shape it.

Zombies, golems, more skeletons, and undead
animals moved through Krisenburg as naturally as the barbarians did
on the surface. Those without the ability to speak often had
companions that could; others used a frantic sign language I'd
never seen.

Death mimicked life in a very peculiar
way.

This town, which was more of a city now that I
saw it, was dark, crooked, dirty, dangerous... and filled with more
life in a busy afternoon than I'd seen in my entire twenty six
years on this earth. The thought saddened me, but I maintained my
smile, because I felt a sense of admiration I didn't know
existed.

Were necromancers really so different from the
creatures we raised?

"In a way..." I said slowly, as Leo and I
walked down the street. "I think I'm starting to get why we do what
we do."

"Do what?"

"The whole necromancy thing." I waved my hand
at the subject. "It's... in a really, seriously disturbing way,
kind of beautiful."

Leo looked as though I'd just swallowed an
insect. A broad grin spread across his face.

"I thought this would've scared
you."

"It does," I admitted. "It
terrifies me. I think, if it's possible, a part of me fainted the
minute I walked downstairs. But..."

"But?" asked Leo.

"I have to adapt to the Moor of Souls if I
want to live long enough to find a way out of it. Diana said this
to me not that long ago: I'm not afraid of dead things, just things
that look dead."

"There's a difference?"

I motioned the world in front of us, at risen
bodies pushing carts, sweeping, and shopping.

"Everything in Nethermount was so
regimented. Necromancers kept their servants on a leash. If they
weren't being used, then they just sat around on display. If these
people had some skin on them, then they'd be just like you and me."
I reconsidered what I'd said. "They already are just like you and
me."

Leo slapped me on the back. I tripped
forward.

"You're weird, Marvin."

I made a face.

"But I like weird."

It didn't take long for us to spot the Harpy
Den. As the name suggested, it held a statue of two harpies, the
monstrous, bird-women locked in combat. One sneered upon her
opponent, pinning her to the blackened platform. Curiously, the
second wasn't frightened, nor was she enraged. The sculptor, for
whatever reason, had chosen to portray an expression that went
beyond the obvious; serene, even... merciful.

All my life, I'd thought that nothing good
could come of the cold earth, and to an extent, I was correct.
There were many terrible things about the Moor of Souls, but in
between its seeming cruelty, is archaic kill-or-be-killed nature,
there were snippets of wonder.

I felt embarrassed at my own short
sightedness, being more like most necromancers than I'd realized.
Undead, to us, were tools, slaves, unfeeling and disposable... and
I'd bought into it without question.

Leo grabbed me by the wrist and walked over to
a stone board, where an undead dwarf was chiseling. We weren't the
only ones there; it was clear by the clinking sounds and passing
satchels that there was some gambling going on.

"Look, Marvin," Leo said, pointing. "Diana's
name is up there."

"What about Uhh?"

We skimmed the board, finally discovering Uhh
was set for two matches in an entirely different bracket. My
stomach churned with anxiety. I knew Uhh was good in a fight, and I
knew Diana was stronger than she let on, but I would've been much
happier if they were together. As it stood, it would take six
rounds of fighting before they would tag together for dual
matches.

It wasn't long after we registered this
information that the crowd was soon hustled through the arch
leading into the Harpy Den. Leo served as a bulwark to prevent me
from getting crushed. Everyone found seats immediately, leaving us
staring like doe-eyed infants.

"Act like locals," Leo reminded me of Duck's
advice.

"Well do you see any seats?" I
asked back, snappish.

The tiers were packed; to call
this entertainment was an understatement. Judging by the
expressions around us, fights at the Harpy Den were a
religion.

"Pardon?"

We turned around to spot a normal looking
man.

Well, not normal, exactly, more like... out of
place.

He was the definition of handsome by surface
standards, with strong, masculine features, blonde hair, and a glow
that suggested he just stepped in from a soak in the
sun.

"Are... you talking to us?" I
asked.

"Yes." His smile was dazzling in its
whiteness. "You see, I was wondering whether you'd join me in my
viewing box. It isn't often that I see live necromancers in
Krisenburg."

Leo and I exchanged questioning
looks.

"It's up to you, Marv," he said.

I turned to this beautiful stranger, so
ill-suited to the surrounding area.

"We'll take you up on that offer."

"Wonderful!" He swept his arm as he turned,
sending the purple robes flying.

Purple was notoriously difficult to find where
dyes were concerned. The color was a bit of an oddity when it did
show up in Nethermount, often in the plumes of exotic birds or the
occasional nightshade flower. Once, or so the story went, there was
a body in the Pit, dressed in purple vestments. We later learned
that she was one of the leading matriarchs of Isoviel.

In short, to be dripping in this
color said a lot about this man's station, especially that he was
willing to make such a blatant statement without a shred of concern
for his surroundings. One look at Leo told me that we were on the
same page; this was not a man to trifle with.

The viewing box was luxurious by
Krisenburg standards. There was room to stretch, for starters, and
the seats had cushions. Our host sat in the largest chair, flicking
his wrist at a pitcher. It immediately tipped and neatly filled a
golden goblet with a sweet smelling liquid.

"You're a mage," Leo said dumbly.

Our benefactor's eyes twinkled a bit at the
statement. "Oh... I wouldn't go as far as saying that."

"But what you did takes an incredible amount
of control!"

"What? This?" He repeated the procedure for
two more cups, floating them to the arm rests of our seats. "Parlor
tricks, that's all."

Something wasn't right.

He was too perfect.

And this sweet smell... I knew it.

A horn blew from somewhere in the stadium
below, bringing all conversation to a halt. A hulking mass,
stitched to form a giant human male, stepped out into the
arena.

"
For our first match
," his voice
thundered across the stone. "
We have a
face that has not appeared since the Era of Inval! The Doll, Diana
Galatea, now under a new Contractor!
"

I shrank into the chair, swishing the liquid
in my cup. Questions roared across the seats below, demanding to
know who Diana's Contractor was.

Our host arched his brow at my obvious
signal.

"My, my... I figured it was one of you two,"
he smirked. "I wonder how it is you've caught her? Lady Galatea is
a legend in our bleak little halls."

I wanted to ask what kind of legend he was
talking about, but was smart enough to realize I'd given up too
much already.

"You could say she caught me." I thought of
all the times she'd picked me up and saved me from making a fool of
myself. "Over and over again."

Leo snorted, "That's one way of putting
it."

"
In
our other corner,
" the giant continued
once the excitement died down, "
we have
Formos!
"

"Formos?" I wondered.

"A minotaur," said our host. "Quite rare, but
a fan favorite. Most bets are stacked in his favor this evening as
Lady Galatea is unproven these days. Not for long, I
imagine."

There was a confidence in his words that I
wished I felt.

Chains rattled as the gates opened on either
side of the pit. I spotted Diana immediately, her pale skin like an
opal in soot. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and her
chest was covered by a metal cuirass, both ancient and
heavy.

Opposite her was Formos, a beast
at nearly twice her height. His cloven hooves shook the dry earth
beneath his weight. Impossibly large muscles strained beneath his
leathery skin. Even his tail flicked around like an angry rattle
snake, prepared to whip an unlucky bystander into
submission.

Leo, who had been so certain of a Doll's
power, paled at the sight of this match up. He avoided my gaze, as
though trying to hide some truth in his eyes.

This did nothing to reassure me.

The announcer stepped back,
climbing up to a flat platform above the fighting area. The
combatants approached one another.

The undead minotaur, Formos, cast
Diana a bloodthirsty grin.

Diana yawned.

"
Fighters... BEGIN!
"

No sooner than he'd said it, Diana
disappeared. Everyone, myself included, gripped the edge of the
railing and leaned forward. No one was more baffled than Formos,
who started stomping about wildly.

Diana didn't magically poof out of
existence.

She'd instantly run between his
legs.

Some members of the crowd caught onto the same
fact, and began screaming at Formos, who looked down in time to see
her slide out from under him.

Diana latched onto his tail, and Formos began
to flick it wildly. Her body thrashed against the floor, and I felt
a dull version of every impact, making me feel sore and
ill.

Then, when his tail lashed up,
Diana released it, flying nearly fifteen feet into the air. Formos
readied his hands, prepared to crush her once she came within
range.

Once she was close enough, and the minotaur's
hands came together for their deadly clap, she did something only a
Doll could do... and spun her joints in midair.

The portion of her that would have been
smashed suddenly twisted in a way that would leave a normal human
broken. Then, with her ridiculous strength, she used her momentum
to grab hold of the minotaur by one of his horns.

His neck twisted so hard as she dropped that
it made a full revolution, sitting backwards on his broad
shoulders. Blood sprayed everywhere, coating Diana's porcelain
features in scarlet rivulets.

She hopped off the body. It fell shortly
thereafter. The crowd was silent.