Rosalia led them away, making sure they followed in single file, with Cleo sandwiched in the middle. Kalak’s face was etched with a grim smile, because it was as if the undead knew the trio was fleeing; more and more of them emerged over nearby hills and from the shallow, winding valleys and gullies all around them.
“Still only husks out there, for now,” he said. “And still no goblins, which worries me.”
Husks must be the basic undead type she’d seen. “What other kinds are there?” Cleo asked as she stepped around what looked like a fossilized tree stump. And why did no goblins worry Kalak? Had they all been eaten by the husks?
“Oh, I forget you princesses grow up sheltered.”
“I’m not a princess.”
“If you say so. Anyhow, these husks are the lowest of the low. And some of them preserve better than others, that’s the best I can describe it.”
“They were people, once,” added Rosalia.
Kalak nodded slowly, scratching the stubble on his chin. “Yeah, but not any more. Best to put them down when you can. Then there’s other types we don’t really know how they come about: skwarms and ghuls and revenants and worse. Pray you don’t meet a death knight or the Silent Legion, or the like. Above them are the… not much is known, so I don’t know how to describe them.”
“Whatever living things created the corruption and command the undead,” Rosalia said. “The Barrow Kings and their Sorcerers.”
“Fraking carded beings made of hate. And then there’s the corruption… a corrupted death knight or Sorcerer would be… yeah, pray you never meet one’s all I can say.”
“The husks have our scent now,” Rosalia said. “Let’s hope they don’t gather enough numbers to swarm. Cleo, would you please do the honors and put the nearest ones down. My magic is a great deal more noticeable, and we should avoid drawing more attention to ourselves. I’ll keep scouting ahead so we avoid the deeper crevices and caves.”
And your wand is running out of charges, and… you might be trying to drain my mana in order to kill me for my cards. She couldn’t be certain what these two intended, one way or the other, but she resolved to be careful with her words and keep an eye out for any suspicious behavior. Transmigrated to a world with magic and all I can do is try to stay alive until I’m somewhere safe. Then I can figure out what the hell’s going on and how to become stronger. Thoughts of her family and friends, who she might never see again, rose unbidden, and Cleo swallowed a lump in her throat and brushed her hair over one ear with a shaking hand. And where’s Mau? Saskia said the cat is meant to be my guide! Though explaining why I have a talking cat would be a problem… still, I’m not sure I can manage on my own.
There was nothing else she could do but swallow her fears and keep going. If she wanted to survive then she had to figure things out for herself, and make herself stronger. Somehow.
Cleo only nodded and began to cast her Despair curse every few seconds at the approaching undead, which already numbered more than a dozen. As the dead things spotted the group, they sped up, gaining even more speed as they drew closer until they came at a fast walk. She knew she’d better remain alert or one might come at her from behind before she knew it. That's assuming Kalak didn't put it down, but she wouldn't risk her life with someone who thought she was a useless novice. If he let an undead slip through, then he wouldn’t have to do the dirty work himself. Or maybe you’re too paranoid.
Curiously, at this casting rate, she could sense her mana depleting in small doses, but calculated it would be some time before she’d run out of mana and unable to cast. If skill tiers functioned similarly to ones she was familiar with, at such a low level it would be sufficient against these simple undead, but wouldn’t be as effective against anything more powerful unless the skill tiered up. I guess I can just stack curses then and hope that works, she decided.
Before she’d put down half a dozen, the wind shifted, and Cleo gagged at the vile stench of putrid meat which burned her nose and throat. She staggered, almost retching, as her stomach churned and sour saliva flooded her mouth.
“You never get used to it,” Kalak said, chuckling. He pulled his handkerchief up to cover his nose and mouth. Ahead, she saw Rosalia doing the same as she looked back at them, before turning and continuing on.
“I don’t suppose you have a spare one of those?”
“No such luck. If… when we make it to Ankratur you can buy one. Spend a little more, like I did, and they can magically infuse the cloth with lavender, or sandalwood, or whatever scent you prefer.” He pointed his chin at the closest undead. “These don’t preserve well. It's about being farther from the corruption, or something like that. Rosalia could tell you more. Magic’s her specialty.”
Cleo buried her face in her inner elbow, hoping to ward off at least some of the odor. And then a horrifying thought struck her. These used to be people. Real people with hopes and dreams, families and friends. And now they’re just… this was awful. No wonder Rosalia referred to it as ‘putting them down’. It was the best that could be done for them, putting the dead things out of their eternal misery.
Her foot slipped on a loose rock, and she almost tumbled onto the sandy scree. “What’s yours?” she choked out, doing her best to breathe as little as she could. At least casting Despair didn’t require speech, or she’d have to breathe more often. Cleo put down a couple more undead approaching on their left, and lifeless corpses fell to the ground. The numbers grew behind them, as more undead followed the path of the fallen, and presumably smelled their living flesh. This is heartbreaking… and gruesome.
“Spears and close work. Though I keep as far away as I can with the undead, mostly because of the smell. Husks are the worst for that. Sometimes it’s better to be close when it’s demons. Their magic hits hard at range. Getting in their face is usually preferable.”
Demons? Now there’s demons, too…
“What’s your class card?” Cleo asked.
Kalak eyed her and then looked away. “All right. I guess we know yours, and you’ve kind of earned it. Warrior Indurate. If you had an Identify skill card you’d know already anyway, I guess. My grandfather was an adventurer, and he put the class card together, but my da didn’t want it. He preferred the quiet life and became a cobbler. So, he saved it and offered the card to me when I was old enough. Making shoes and boots never interested me. And magic, well, sitting around meditating and cycling mana and enduring the pain of it didn’t appeal either. And all mages are a little… off.”
[Party updated: Rosalia (hidden) and Kalak (Warrior Indurate)]
“Thank you,” Cleo said. Maybe the man’s gruff exterior hid a softer side. Time would tell. She noted that there was still no class tier information, but at least Kalak had thawed enough to reveal his class and some of his background. If what he said could be trusted.
Was she being too paranoid? Maybe, but you could never be too careful. The ‘gift of fear’ her dad called it—safety is survival, and trust is earned. If—when—she saw him again, she vowed to thank him for the valuable lessons and behaviors he’d instilled in her.
Kalak went quiet then and let Cleo move farther ahead, as if he’d had enough of talking.
She wanted to ask for more details about Warrior Indurate and ‘putting cards together’, what mana cycling was—Rosalia had mentioned it before—and why it hurt, but she knew when to leave things be to avoid looking ignorant and unintelligent. They were aware she was new and a 'hero', but unaware she was from another world. It was probably for the best to keep it that way.
One undead came at them faster than any of the others; a woman with tangled hair and bald patches, her arms snaking with swollen black veins that changed to glowing indigo and bottle green close to her joints.
“Corruption,” Kalak spat. “Put her down quick, Cleo. If it spreads we’re going to be in a world of hurt. Or dead. Or both.”
Cleo cast Despair on the undead woman, but she didn’t react to the curse as the others had. The woman slowed a bit, but not as much as the others, and after a few seconds continued on without crumbling. She panicked a little and cast twice more before the void damage overcame the resistances and health of the dead woman and she finally succumbed.
Kalak strode toward the unmoving corpse and jammed his spear into her head, then withdrew the steel tip and struck again. Nausea brought bile to Cleo’s throat and she had to look away. She wondered who the woman had been before, and how she’d come to be here among the other undead.
“Ah!” Kalak exclaimed. “At last, some good news.”
Cleo turned to see a faint white mesh of light surrounding the undead woman. Kalak used the butt of his spear to flip the body over onto its back and then made a deliberate gesture over the desiccated skin of her chest with his right hand. A curling wisp of smoke rose from the woman’s chest and gathered in Kalak’s palm. There was a subdued flash of light, and then he held what appeared to be a fragment of paper.
A card fragment, Cleo suddenly realized. Loot! So sometimes they drop, and you put them together somehow?
“It’s not much, but it’s something,” Kalak said. He drew a flat, metal tin from a pocket and deposited the fragment inside before stashing it away again. “Only common, but they all add up.”
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
Cleo had so many questions she thought she might burst. Why did some undead drop card fragments and not others? How did you assemble them into a card? Were there class fragments and skill fragments or were they all the same? Was each fragment from a specific class or skill or were assembled cards random?
She swallowed and held her tongue, focusing on cursing a couple of undead that had scurried closer while she’d been distracted. Survive first, then questions later. Maybe in Ankratur she’d find answers. Asking Kalak and Rosalia was fraught with potential danger. Perhaps she’d be able to find basic educational books on how the card system functioned, or an unsuspecting information source.
Some Legend you are, learning from children’s books.
Kalak grunted, narrowing his eyes at Cleo. “Don’t touch that one. Corruption’ll infect you and spread fast, and out here there’s no healers to help you. Then we’d have to put you down like the rest. Like Scrubby. I’m sure you don’t want that.” He waved a hand at the other undead that were undeterred and still ambling toward them. “No slacking. We fight until we can’t.”
I’m the only one fighting! Still, she shouldn’t be too hard on them, as they’d been exhausted a short time ago, and were probably only just managing to keep going, drawing on whatever reserves of strength they had left. And maybe skills. Did he just say they’d had to kill Scrubby? They hadn’t just lost him to the undead, he’d been corrupted and they’d had to kill him. No wonder Kalak’s in a foul mood. Cleo couldn’t imagine having to do the same to someone she knew. It must have taken a great deal of inner strength and conviction, and hurt them both, deeply.
They walked for over an hour, with Kalak murmuring to Cleo to keep her eyes peeled every few minutes, even though she was still putting down any undead that came close. It would have been annoying, but she was glad of the interruptions and the reminder from an almost-friendly voice.
Behind them, the trail of lifeless undead stretched out of sight, but still more came.
The gray sandy hills were featureless and desolate. Nothing moved unless driven by the wind or undead corruption. And Kalak kept telling her to report anything out of the ordinary. Anything, even if she thought it might have just been the wind. Occasionally, Kalak would scurry to the undead she’d cursed and put down, always the less rotten ones, and search through pockets and pouches. He stashed any valuables away without a word. The undead wore and carried whatever personal possessions they’d had on them when they’d succumbed, which usually wasn’t much. Earlier, one had clutched the rotten remains of an apple.
She wondered if this was how they made their living—trips into the Blighted Lands to put down and loot undead, or whether there was more out here than met the eye. A few coins or card fragments surely couldn’t be worth risking your life over.
The initial pleasure of her magic only slightly diminished as they progressed toward the pyramid and she culled a good number of undead—or ‘put down’ as Rosalia would say. Cleo’s head had begun to ache, as did her knees and ankles and feet. She clenched her jaw and continued, hoping her lupus wasn’t about to flare up. Out here, among the undead, falling by the wayside in agony and unable to walk would lead to her death. She was under no illusions that Kalak and Rosalia would put their own lives in danger to save her. Adventurers hard enough to put down a friend would surely leave her to die if she couldn’t keep up with them.
Rubbing her temples and the back of her neck, Cleo started taking more time between curses, hoping that her aching head was a side effect of too much mana use that she wasn’t used to. When she sent her senses inward again, she noticed that what she thought was her mana pool—or reservoir—wasn’t reducing anymore. It seemed her regeneration was able to keep up with her mana cost, but only if she took more time between curses. But the less she cast, the more the undead numbers grew. And Rosalia had said something about them swarming. She wondered what the tipping point was.
What would Kalak and Rosalia have done if I wasn’t here to cast and take down so many of the undead… Probably just kept running.
And was she gaining experience from killing the undead? She hadn’t received any notifications, but tiering up from F– to F surely wouldn’t take too long. The early levels in any RPG were the easiest to progress through. And she’d noticed Saskia hadn’t mentioned ability points, which was a shame. Cleo wouldn’t have minded spending a few points on charisma and glowing up—but perhaps it would be better not to do that, in order to avoid unwanted attention and keep a low profile.
Perhaps gaining experience is a hidden aspect of the system. More questions I can’t ask right now or I’ll look dumb and raise suspicions. Where’s that cat?!
Just then, two undead broke into a sprint and came for Kalak. He skewered one and tossed it to the side, before clubbing the other with the butt of his spear. Cleo cursed another that broke into a trot and rushed him. It collapsed a few paces shy of the man as he repeatedly jabbed his spear into the heads of the first two. She noticed they had the swollen black veins that changed to glowing indigo and green at the joints. Corrupted.
“Ah ha!” Kalak said as another mesh of light surrounded one body. He gestured atop it, there was a flash of light, smoke gathered in his palm, and then he held another card fragment.
Suddenly, from behind them, Rosalia cried out in alarm. Cleo turned her head just as the woman fired two scorching blasts from her wand. Multiple explosions ripped through the air, shredding undead flesh and sending limbs and viscera flying. Smoke and dust from the explosions swirled around them.
Cleo gagged at the gruesome sight. Pull yourself together! No hero would throw up at the sight of a few dismembered undead!
Kalak swore and shoved the card fragment in his pocket as he raced over to Rosalia, who crouched low beside a boulder. When the smoke cleared, Cleo saw a few dozen undead ahead of them, crammed into the valley they’d been following. Rosalia had put down a group of the closest, but their path was blocked. And worse than that, the loud blasts and smoke curling into the sky must have riled up nearby undead. Guttural cries and scrambling emanated from the surrounding hills.
Backing toward the two of them, Cleo cast curse after curse at the undead coming up behind. They fell lifeless to the ground, but more kept coming, far outnumbering those she’d seen before. She kept up her casting as sweat trickled down her face.
Despair… Despair…
“Corrupted,” Rosalia stated with a grim expression. “Three were infected.”
“So were two behind us,” Kalak said. “They’re getting more numerous.”
Despair… Despair…
The undead kept coming, trampling over the ones she’d put down.
Despair… Despair…
Cleo sensed her mana slowly depleting as she cast curse after curse after curse. At this rate, casting each time as soon as she could, her low tier meant she’d run out of mana soon, even with the plus five-hundred percent bonus from her Legend class card.
Despair… Despair…
Last second level up, please? I mean tier? No? F minus my life, she thought, and not for the first time.
“They can run? The corrupted, I mean,” Cleo said, her voice sounding panicky to her ears.
Despair… Despair…
“Yes,” Rosalia said. “When they congregate and get worked up, even the lowly husks have bursts of energy.”
Despair… Despair…
Sweat slicked Cleo’s skin, and her head throbbed with pain. “I’m not sure I can keep this up much longer.” She could cancel her energy shield skill, which would unreserve a large amount of mana, but at the expense of losing all her defense. But if her mana regen wasn’t even keeping up with the cost of her curses then there was no point in doing so—her available mana wouldn’t replenish at all unless she stopped casting.
Despair… Despair… almost out.
“I’m almost done!” she said, voice cracking.
Rosalia nodded and then stood, arms extended ahead and behind them at the surging undead. Kalak roughly grabbed Cleo’s arm and pulled her to the side.
“Fire Storm,” the woman said calmly, and coruscating lines of energy erupted from both hands. Fires blossomed, erupting against undead flesh. Concussions and fiery balls exploded, and animated corpses burst into flames. Many of the undead blew apart while others keened shrilly and collapsed onto the sand. Flesh sizzled under intense heat, and the sweet scent of burning flesh filled the air, overlaid with rot. But this time Cleo was able to ignore the now familiar stench.
In the aftermath, Kalak darted among the survivors with preternatural speed, spear weaving in a blur, tearing out throats and plunging into skulls. An undead foe hit his side with a rusty sword. A blue glow flared, and Cleo felt a shift within herself, different from mana drain, which then swiftly returned to normal. Kalak flowed among the injured undead, moving with effortless grace, finishing off as many as he could. Before all the undead were put down, one landed a lucky blow with a dagger, which Cleo felt her energy shield ward against.
It was as if Kalak’s fighting style left him open on one side. Like he was used to fighting alongside someone, a comrade to ward off blows. Scrubby, Cleo realized.
“Flame-ball of Arcing!” Rosalia said, and again a second time. Two beach-ball sized balls of flame materialized out of nothing—one between Kalak and the undead behind them, and one between Rosalia and the dead things surging toward them from the front. Tendrils of fire whipped out from the spheres, lashing any nearby undead, flaying skin and cracking bones. Whatever primitive sense of self-preservation the undead had must have triggered, as they began to mill about, unwilling to come close to the flaming balls.
Much more impressive than my spells, thought Cleo. Showy, but noisy and imprecise. I want one!
Kalak backed away from the carnage and came alongside Cleo. His chest heaved, and sweat saturated his clothes, mixing with the dust to create a muddy film. Rosalia blasted a few more undead with her wand, but quickly broke off, wiping her brow with a hand that shook with exhaustion.
“Kalak,” she yelled. “We have to get away from here! Cleo, curse when you have the mana! There’s no point in saving it if we’re overrun.”
Goblins, more undead, whatever could command these corpses, wouldn’t miss the commotion they’d made. Anyone, or any thing, would hear the explosions for miles, and dark smoke plumed high into the sky as corpses burned. They may as well have lit a signal fire and shouted, “Fresh meat over here!”.
Cleo sensed that she’d regenerated a decent amount of mana since she’d last cast, though it was a slow process, it was a steady increase.
Despair… Despair…
“Let’s go, people!” Rosalia said. “With me! I’ll drop spells while we run. Kalak, you know the drill. Take out whatever you can without putting yourself in too much danger. Cleo, just keep cursing and for all that’s holy keep that energy shield up!” She scampered up the side of the valley, boots slipping on the sandy slope.
Kalak muttered something, and Cleo found her footing became firmer and the slipping stopped. They hurried up the hill, Rosalia leading them up a steep slope that Cleo thought they wouldn’t have managed without Kalak’s ability to steady their steps. Below them, the flame-balls fizzled out.
At least they had an escape plan.
Despair…
After her last curse, Cleo held off casting any more when she noticed Rosalia drawing deep breaths and waiting for them to pass her.
“Flame-ball of Arcing.” Rosalia tossed a third flaming sphere into the undead attempting to scramble up the slope behind them. Cleo averted her eyes as fiery tendrils lashed out, scouring flesh and bone and putting down dozens of undead.
“Come, Cleo,” Rosalia said, stumbling over and leaning on her shoulder.
Cleo almost staggered as she took the woman’s weight. “Are you all right?”
“I’ll be fine in a bit. The spells took it out of me. A lot of mana drain in a short time, and I haven’t slept for a couple of days.” Rosalia kept moving, drawing Cleo along.
Kalak eyed Rosalia with concern. “You overdid it.”
“We didn’t have much choice.”
“Missed a few card fragments down there.”
“Couldn’t be helped. There’ll be more.”
He grunted and gave a wry smile. “Scrubby would cuss you out for leaving them.”
“Yeah, he would. Well, he isn’t here now.”
“No. No, he’s not.” Kalak leaned on his spear. “Swap?”
“Yes, I’m in no condition to scout ahead. We’re too visible up here; let’s get down off this hill. You okay to get us away?”
There must have been another unspoken question implied, as Kalak glanced at Cleo, then down at the ground. After a momentary pause, he gave a curt nod.
“No point in not using it and getting eaten. And if I use it now, the cooldown might be up if we need it again.”
They were talking about a spell or skill card that Kalak possessed. One, obviously, that he was reluctant to show to strangers. “I won’t say anything,” Cleo said. “I think I’ve shown enough of my cards and how reliable I am in a fight to be trusted.”
“That wasn’t a fight,” Kalak said. “Maybe a skirmish. A scuffle at best.”
Cleo wasn’t sure, but she thought that may have been the man’s first joke.
