Revenant's Resolve Chapter 24

“Excuse me?!” the necromancer shouted after Reznik as he leapt off the side of the plateau, sounding deeply offended. 

He ignored it. 

In fact, he was working at ignoring everything except exactly where and how he wanted to land. 

Specifically, the shoulders of an armored skeleton holding a long, rusted spear just out of reach of Zarah’s saber. 

As he landed, the skeleton felt like it offered zero resistance under his boots right until he landed on the metal breastplate, which crumpled an instant later. 

Surveying his surroundings briefly, Reznik found the area littered with re-dead undead in various states of dismembered. 

In addition, there were others with no visible wounds, simply lying on the ground in a heap. 

He glanced at Zarah just in time for her to deftly dodge around a charging ghoul and bring her saber down to sever its head. 

“Where… have. You. -Been-?” Zarah growled breathlessly, in a way that sounded like it took some effort. She scowled even deeper as she brought her unarmed hand up to a red-stained slice in her greatcoat. “Are you deaf?” 

Reznik grabbed the closest zombie to him by an arm, removed the arm, and then swung it back at the rotting creature’s head hard enough to stave it in. 

I… what? No! I came as soon as you called!

How did you kill so many so quickly? I was only up there for a couple minutes…

“Nnno.” He groaned, watching the corpse flop bonelessly to the ground. 

Now that he looked at Zarah, she was covered in small, ragged red holes in her clothes. 

In addition to the dense scattering of nearby bodies, it left him feeling with an odd sense of vertigo as he tried to correlate the amount of time he’d been on top of the plateau with the level of carnage on the hillside. 

“Oh, so you just-“ Zarah lunged to the side and skewered a zombie’s eye socket with her saber, twisting it deeper with a grinding squelch before flicking it out and smashing a skeleton’s arm. The rusty axe it held fell to the ground with a muted clatter as Zarah stumbled back with a snarl on her lips. “-Didn’t hear me in your head or with your ears for almost a quarter hour?” 

The corpse of the zombie liquefied and began to flow back up the hill as Reznik paused confusedly before resuming his clobbering of ghoul that was most likely already very dead. 

A quarter of an hour?

That… does explain why she’s so mad at me. 

Reznik punched into the chest of a Zombie that shambled at him, gripped a shattered rib, and flung it further down the hill before glancing up at the edge of the plateau’s cliff. 

The necromancer was there, waving both hands like an orchestra conductor as tendrils of luminescent dark purple energy flowed from her fingertips only to dance down to oblong masses of rent flesh and viscera. 

One of the masses birthed forth another Zombie as it took in ever more biomass from the corpses Zarah and he had made. 

“You have something I want.” She proclaimed from the top of the mount as a ghoul practically tore its way out of one of the summoning spheres. “Someone, I believe. Do as I say, sell him off like the property he is to you, and all this stops.

“Goes away, like the end of a song.” The necromancer snapped her fingers, and the spheres spewing undead simply ceased to be, spilling to the ground in a soupy mass. 

The undead around Zarah and Reznik also stopped moving, stopped attacking. 

The horde took two steps back in near unison, and simply waited.

Zarah coughed once before flicking remnants of past kills off her saber, watching the woman with an open-mouthed, thoughtful stare.

“And… why would I want to do that?” Zarah questioned archly, leaning over to tap Reznik on the breastplate with her saber demonstratively. “Clearly, you can’t throw anything our way that can harm him.”

“Oh, he -is- a ‘him’ to you, then?” the necromancer snapped back in harsh, accusatory tone. “I did not believe you could see that nuance beyond the utility.”

The woman on the cliff made a small grunting noise as she stared off to the side thoughtfully. 

“I wish to have him for my company. I will pay you… a full gold talent for him. That, or kill you and take him anyway. Is your choice.” 

Zarah took in a sharp inhale as her saber dipped fractionally when the woman mentioned a full talent of gold. 

Reznik had no real knowledge of how much that was, but assumed it was a lot, given Zarah’s reaction. 

“That’s…” Zarah blew out a breath, grimaced, and shook her head.

“Enough to change a life. Even a king’s.” The necromancer smiled wickedly down at them. “Perhaps even make one - place power in the hands of a new queen, one who understands the needs of both commoner and noble.”

Okay. 

I know I’m somewhat unique, but why on earth am I worth that much?

“Www…Wh-y m-mn-me?” Reznik’s voice followed his thoughts several seconds later into the silence, bringing the necromancer’s attention to him. 

“Because, my new friend, yo-ARRGH” the necromancer began in a confident, conspiratorial tone before abruptly screaming and keeling over. 

Zarah ripped her pistol out of the holster on her hip, aimed, and fired right as the necromancer looked back up. 

A spray of black blood sprang free from the her eye socket a moment before the necromancer collapsed backwards without a further sound. 

In addition, all the undead around them began to melt - burning away into the cool night air with the scent of stale piss and rot. 

“F-fin… Finally, she… shuts. Up.” Zarah got out between deep breaths before she collapsed to her knees, rubbing fervently at her temples.

Looking down, Reznik felt an upwelling of concern for the woman - not only had she been mildly wounded several times during the fight, she also looked far more pale than usual.

Pale, with a faint greenish pallor to her skin. 

Zarah? Can you hear me? Are you listening?

Are you alright? What can I do to help?

Zarah seemed to realize a moment later that she was still holding a pistol in her left hand, holstering it after several missed attempts a moment later. 

She looked up to Reznik with a pained smile before wincing and turning back to the ground. One of her pupils looked far larger than the other, which probably meant something was wrong. 

“Ow… moon… bright.” Zarah groaned, pushing her unoccupied palm into her dilated eye. “I might have pushed… too far.” 

Then, she leaned forward and puked onto the ground like she was expelling a demon before falling face-first into the puddle. 

Not good. Not good.

Definitely not fucking good.

Uh.

Fuck. 

What do I do?

Reznik looked around thoughtfully for a moment before coming to the realization that there was nothing he -could- do. At least not directly. 

There was a town near that farm we stopped at. 

They probably have a doctor, or at least an inn. 

Somewhere for her to get better, either slow or fast. 

Reznik prodded and cajoled his body into kneeling down beside Zarah before pushing her onto her back. 

She made a pitiful noise that sounded somewhere between a groan and a whine as Reznik shoved his plan through to his body. That he would push his arms under her, pick her up, and begin walking back down the mountain towards the path they’d left at the base of the hill. 

For a moment, Reznik fumbled as his palms faced the wrong direction. He thought at the problem, turned them upward, and picked Zarah up in a princess carry. 

Then he began to walk steadily back the way they’d came. 

More than once, he had to backtrack after getting turned around in dark, dense woods at the base of the foothills and it ended up taking him far longer to find his way back to the path. 

The only indication he had during this time that Zarah was indeed not dead was the sound of her mostly steady breathing. 

Occasionally, it would be broken by her coughing, or even just a sudden intake of breath, like she was about to sneeze. 

After the sun had rose, but before it had climbed to the center of the sky, Reznik saw a sign on the road just after he turned around a bend. 

Dalgu. 

I think that was the village’s name, but we never really went inside. Just to that farm that made the report. 

Eh, either way - they still will likely have an doctor, healer, or at least an inn for her to rest up. 

When he neared the town, more and more farms and homes became visible from the road, but still not nearly as many as the outskirts of Bratsow. People also crossed his path, but they all gave him a wide berth, often times stepping off the trail when they saw him approaching.

It wasn’t until he was within eyesight of the main that someone actually decided to talk to him. 

Unfortunately, the someones were in fact, guards. 

Three men in that had most of a set of leather armor between them came rushing forward from the front of the town gate. Calling it a gate in and of itself seemed like something of a misnomer, as in reality it was far closer to a pair of watch towers with a suspended bridge between them.

Alright. Zarah can’t talk.

That means this is on me. 

Gotta make complete sentences, and try not to be weird.

Don’t be weird. 

Just tell them you need a doctor. Or an inn, at a minimum. 

Glancing up to the towers as he began to work at exactly what to say, and how to say it, Reznik spied the distinctive barrel of a rifle protruding between the wooden panels of the left tower. 

Just… act natural.

Natural for someone alive. 

Yes, all normal here guardsman, nothing suspicious!

The three men that approached him with weapons drawn were all eying Reznik and Zarah with varying degrees of uncertainty. 

“Oi, you. ‘Ell ‘appened to ‘er?” the oldest one, the one in the lead with a pike questioned sharply, coming to a stop several yards ahead of Reznik. 

Come on.

I can do it.

Just say the word “fight,” its simple.

Fight!

“Ffight.” Reznik answered in a low, rumbling tone that resembled a growl. Thankfully, his stutter and slur were far less noticeable than usual. 

He was improving.

Ahh, okay! Now we’re getting it. 

Doctor!

We need a doctor!

“Daahck-tor.” 

Eh, maybe there’s still work to be done. 

The guard in the lead flicked his eyes down to Zarah, then back up to Reznik as his eyes narrowed fractionally. 

“Hrm, caught in that big ambush on the east road last night, wuz ya?” 

Reznik slowly shook his head, to which the man grunted again. 

“Eh, wha’ever. Just take her to the healer, do what you’ve gotta do, and don’t cause trouble.” The man shrugged after a moment longer, still eying Reznik skeptically, but now with a heavy dose of boredom and frustration. “’Ealer’s shop is the third building on your left.” 

The guard stepped aside and waved for Reznik to pass him just before the other two stepped aside, watching him with the same suspicious glare. 

I should mind my manners here. 

Not that they could really hurt me, but I’m sure Zarah doesn’t want “mass murder” as a title for her subordinate. 

  *

Reznik had taken Zarah’s coinpurse from her belt just after he’d brought her to the healer, which was little more than an apothecary. The old crone had looked over Zarah, and tried to pry more information on what exactly had happened from Reznik.

Which, Reznik would have loved to have given her, but really couldn’t manage words with too many syllables. 

Thankfully, he had managed to pronounce the word “Telepath” with significant effort, and that seemed to spark the woman’s curiosity and instinct. She’d poured several foul-smelling tonics down Zarah’s throat before summarily kicking him out of her shop. 

The woman had instructed him to take Zarah to the inn, rent a room for several days, and that she would visit each day for treatment, provided he could pay. 

Given the hefty large amount of assorted copper and silver coins she’d handed back to him after giving her a large silver coin from the leather sack, he assumed he would be able to. 

Now, he was working at his next most important task - somehow unstrapping his helmet, getting it off his head, and going downstairs to order food. 

Somehow. 

His stomach was gurgling and growling its protest that he had not yet eaten, so loudly that it felt almost like an unscratchable itch inside of his mind and gut. 

Zarah was fast asleep on the bed, which was really just a large bundle of thatch wrapped in a tight-fitting blanket atop a crudely-constructed wooden frame. 

After another few minutes of fidgeting with the clasp in a way that felt second-hand, Reznik finally got the buckle to unclasp. 

Off came the helm a moment later, landing on the floorboard with a resounding thud. 

Reznik briefly glanced over to Zarah, making sure the sound didn’t wake her up before turning to the door. 

For a moment he fidgeted with the handle before getting a good grasp and twisting it open. He shut it behind him with a far louder thud than he had hoped, but he reasoned that he at least -knew- it was shut.

I really should start doing more to practice my coordination, especially since Zarah’s been so busy the past week and hasn’t had many chances to work on me. 

See if I can find a way to get better control of my hands and arms, at least. 

Reznik thudded his way downstairs to the main room of the inn, all the eyes of the few patrons turned to him as the room grew silent for a moment. 

Then, he was quickly dismissed, as everyone quickly looked away back to whatever conversations, foot, and gambling they were doing before. 

Reznik guided his body to the bar, where he waited patiently for the old man behind it to finish bringing tankards to several patrons further down. 

After a minute, the man stopped in front of Reznik with a neutral, lopsided grin on the side of his face that didn’t have a long knotted scar. 

“What can I get ya, ser?” the man asked in a gravelly voice, eying Reznik’s armor with his good eye. “Perhaps a turn in the washroom?” 

“F-food”

The balding, faintly green-skinned man let out a deep, throaty chuckle, resting his palms on the counter as he leaned forward.

“Aye, you look like you’ve worked up a ‘ell of an appetite. Not to mention the rumor mill goin’ on about you carryin’ your woman all the way back into town from wherevers ya’ was.” 

Reznik didn’t really have a good reply for that. At least not one he could effectively say. 

His previous interaction with the man had been when he asked for a room, which had simply involving him saying “room” once, paying, and taking Zarah upstairs. 

The barkeep nodded, chuckled quietly again, and shook his head.

“Man of few words, I see.” The man scratched at his jaw and eyed Reznik knowingly before continuing; “Well, I’ll guess you don’t care about the lighter fare, given…”

The man nodded at Reznik’s armor, still coated in irregular flecks of blood and viscera. 

“We’ve got...” 

“M-meat.” Reznik offered plainly, accidentally interrupting the man as the words escaped his lips before he expected. 

The man froze, snorted, and nodded. 

“I can give you choices, or I could just pile a plate full of sausage and mutton. It’ll cost ya more, but… Reckon you can ‘andle it. A small silver.” 

Reznik grunted and set the coinpurse on the counter in front of the man, the same way he had when he’d paid for the room. 

A room which cost less than the meal he was about to eat. 

The man reached into the sack, pulled free a small silver coin, and briefly looked it over before pocketing it.

“It’ll take about half an ‘our to make, you can wait ‘ere, or I can have it brought to your room.” 

Reznik grunted in a way he hoped sounded thankful, nodded, and exited.

As expected, just over half an hour later, there was a knock at his door, and a young serving girl brought him his meal with an almost fearful expression that quickly morphed to relief when he simply took the tray and closed the door behind him. 

Pleasantly full, Reznik returned to his seat on the floor next to the bed and waited. 

All through the night, Zarah slept soundly, sometimes moaning and saying things that almost sounded like words if he wasn’t listening carefully. She also sounded panicked, like she was having nightmares. 

Reznik couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept, let alone the last time he’d had a nightmare.

Probably back when he was alive, he reasoned.

Or at least, when he wasn’t a Revenant. 

Sun rose on the next day and painted radiant light into the room through the cracks between the shutters, slowly shortening in length as the sun climbed higher into the sky. Reznik watched the rays grow shorter absently, finding that in a way, he could manage to retreat partially back into his own mental world and keep the control he had over his body. 

He glanced up as a whistling gust of wind rattled the shutter loudly for a moment, mentally frowning at it.

I wonder if a storm is rolling in…

Winds like that tend to com-

Behind him, Reznik heard a sharp breath. 

Then the bed creaked. 

“Wh… what?” Zarah croaked, sharply jerking up into a seated position as she frantically looked around the room. Her eyes landed on Reznik, who had turned over his shoulder to watch her, putting on his best impression of a smile. “I… Rezni- ow…” 

Zarah winced and squeezed her eyes shut, covering one of her eyes with her hand. 

Reznik turned himself around with a clanking thud of his armored knees landing on the wood, and prompted his body to speak.

“Z-Zaa… Zzaaarah… ohhkay?” 

“Mmmph…” Zarah winced tighter before exhaling a sigh and slightly opening her eyes. “I must’ve really outdone myself… bucket?” 

Reznik cocked his head as Zarah took on an odd expression in her face that he didn’t recognize. 

“Bucket, bedpan… please?” Zarah looked and sounded like she was fighting something back as the words finally registered to Reznik. After a second, he grabbed the foul-smelling bedpan from under the bed, and passed it up to her. 

She wrenched it out of his hands immediately and began to heave violently into it, expelling little but some off-yellow juices. 

Well…

That’s a sight.

And smell, goodness, that’s almost as bad as my own. I wonder if she could melt things with it like I can right now.