Revenant's Resolve Chapter 23

The air tasted increasingly foul as Reznik and Zarah followed the talismans beckoning trail of smoke. 

Like they were getting closer to a mass grave, the sickly sweet sulfur began to permeate Reznik’s nostrils. 

Then his tongue. 

Memories flitted behind his eyes of days spent wandering through crumbling ruins full of shambling zombies, rattling skeletons, and ghouls that stalked the shadows. 

Fuck.

I guess I really have gotten used to the good life, eh? 

The city, and even just the lands north of the river all smell… different. 

Even the death at the siege of Carcal smelled far different than this. 

Reznik took a step higher up the sparsely-wooded side of the flat topped hill. They were most of the way up it now, and Reznik was beginning to believe that his earlier, teasing thought of an army of shambling undead milling about the top wasn’t entirely wrong. 

The smell had only grown stronger. 

“You know,” Zarah strained as she vaulted across an overturned log, breathing heavily from their non-stop pace up the side of a short mountain. “I’m beginning to think that your idle thought of undead atop a mountain may not have been entirely wrong.

“This necromancer will have hell to pay. Not just because they’ll be imprisoned, executed, or worse - buried in fines, for grave robbing and unlicensed necromancy, but also for making me climb this damned mountain.”

Taking a stilling breath, Zarah stopped and pulled free the wooden talisman from the pouch at her belt, eying the red fumes that had ceased billowing in any particular direction. 

Clucking her tongue, she eyed the land around them thoughtfully. 

“Wherever they are, they’re close. Keep your guard up - Necromancers are an odd lot.” Zarah stuffed the fuming object back into its pouch before withdrawing her sword and pistol. “In the east, they’re most often simply wandering traders, marketing their hordes as cheap manual labor. 

“Though, there’s no small number that seek to use the dead as a battering ram to take power for themselves. After it was realized that they couldn’t control the undead from the wastes, the late King made the practice illegal in Wallach, at least without prior approval. There’s still a few fringe tribes that hold to the practice ceremonially - a way to talk to lost family for years after their death.” 

Reznik continued forward as he considered Zarah’s statement and explanation. 

Given what little he knew, he would assume that the kind of person to sic their undead on innocent farmers livestock, and illegally exhume the dead would likely not fall into the “friendly tribal” variety. 

That just means that this is likely to turn into a fight. 

It’s been a while since I’ve fought another undead, and that time was simply because the zombie was trying to eat the week-old corpse of a dog that my body wanted.

I wonder how I’ll do.

Another thought entered Reznik’s mind abruptly, that perhaps he should try talking to Zarah, even if it took significant mental effort. Likely, speech would be similar to how he was able to easily direct his direction of travel now - it would take repeated, forceful effort on his part to get comfortable enough to string full sentences together, let alone larger words.

He had to start somewhere, and trying to talk to her via telepathic link took her focus away from scanning the minds of those around them. 

“Wwwwuuh…” he tried at first, his throat sounding dry and scratchy. He swallowed, licked his lips, and began again as Zarah glanced over at him with raised, expectant eyebrows. “Wwe… ffight… uun-uuuhn- liike… m-mee?” 

Reznik tried to point at himself when he realized the futility of trying to pronounce the word “undead”, but only ended up awkwardly slamming the tips of his fingers into the opposite shoulder. 

Zarah watched him for a moment longer before a wry smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as her near-black eyes twinkled. 

“I doubt the necromancer will be employing a Revenant.” Zarah answered a moment later, the faint grin on her face reaching her tone. “Even if they somehow figured out how, I doubt they’d be a real match for you. Now, if you’re asking about undead in general - then yes. You will likely get to slaughter your fair share if this gets out of hand.” 

Reznik nodded slowly, a part of him happy that he’d likely get to fight other undead.

To the top of the hill then. 

Just have to scramble up those rocks ahead, and we’ll be at the summit. Even if the Necromancer isn’t there, we’ll likely be able to survey our surroundings well from up top.

Reznik shoved the idea at his body that he should sprint ahead, run like he was on a hunt for prey, scramble up the short cliff and take the high ground. 

He stumbled once before pressing the idea again down on his body again, and this time it took. 

As if struck by lightning, Reznik sprang forward, taking long, galloping strides that made his armor clatter. He neared the short cliff after ten or so seconds of running and gaged the distance.

Then, his body leapt. 

It soared for what felt like several seconds, but in reality was likely less than one, and slammed into the side of the stone wall with a muted thud. 

But he had his handhold. 

Without any conscious input from Reznik, his body scrambled and floundered for footing for a moment before his boot found purchase. With one foot and one hand settled, Reznik pushed off and up, slapping both of his hands down on the top of the ledge. 

He struggled for a second longer, legs flailing as they tried to find a loose brick, or a vine before his right foot found purchase in a crack, and he pushed over the edge in a sideways roll.

Coming up to a knee, he was greeted with an odd sight.

Standing in rows were various undead, neat and orderly in formation on either side of a woman, who watched Reznik with entirely black eyes.

No sclera, pupils, or irises were visible. 

Just two twin seas of midnight. 

The woman snapped closed a book that looked to be bound in haphazardly-stitched skin, watching Reznik with a confused, curious expression. 

Her mouth opened, closed, and opened again as her ashen grey skin seemed to be almost translucent under the moonlight’s color. 

“Did they send a fellow necromancer after me after all?” the woman questioned quietly, cocking her head and narrowing her eyes. “No… you’re… Different. You don’t have a master - don’t need one. You’re your own. Now that you’re finally so close, I can see that.

“Though, still trying to catch me, if you’re here in that suit of armor. Still trying to kill me, like everyone on this heavens-forsaken continent. Just like I thought.”

Her words itched at his mind, melodic and scornful in a way that resonated with some deeper part of him. 

A place in his mind he couldn’t touch. 

Reznik tilted his head, hesitating on his earlier inclination to simply charge headfirst into the weak-looking undead. The woman had an air about her that left Reznik feeling a sudden abundance of caution. 

“Ah, right. You can’t speak.” The woman smiled in a sad way as her head tilted fractionally downward, her solid black eyes giving no indication as to where she looked. “I suppose I’ll just wait for your counte-“

“Ahhh-I… T-t-tahhlk.” Reznik forced through his teeth, feeling mildly insulted that she would simply dismiss him out of hand. Right now, Zarah was inevitably doing something… creative to find her way up to him, and that meant that this woman should be paying him far more attention. 

The woman, for her part, froze mid-sentence, tilted her head one way, and then the other before slowly closing her mouth. 

Her head dipped down as she seemed to re-evaluate Reznik, an intrigued, predatory smile spreading across her lips. 

“Different indeed.” The woman’s smile grew in intensity, and Reznik could’ve sworn that it actually brightened the barren hilltop between them. "Let’s see just how unique you are, undead.” 

The woman extended an open hand forward before she curled her fingers and jerked back, as if pulling at a leash around Reznik’s neck. As she did, Reznik saw the world fade into a blur around him. The moon became hazy, spilling into a milky white blob in the sky. 

The company of undead to either side of the woman became almost immaterial, more a large off-brown semi-square than anything tangible.

There were only two things left tangible in the world of nothing around him: himself, and the woman. 

“You will approach me, servant of the abyss, and recognize my authority as your master.” 

The woman’s voice reverberated and echoed between Reznik’s ears as if it were spoken by a thousand different mouths, speaking calmly at a volume equal to shouting even as she didn’t move her lips.

Huh.

Neat trick…

Reznik slowly panned his head around, looking for the sources of the extra choir of voices the woman spoke with. 

Looking back to her, Reznik cocked his head and watched her distractingly sharp face against the backdrop of blur. Her witheringly-pretty smile fell away into an unreadable flat line as she appeared to wait expectantly. 

I wonder, was something supposed to happen with that? 

Maybe she was trying to add me to her undead horde, and it didn’t work? Zarah did mention that undead from the south weren’t able to be controlled by necromancers, so maybe it’s related to that?

Reznik sniffed the air experimentally, a faint, almost fruity scent wafting on the breeze to him. Like a fresh pie on a windowsill, the aroma called to him - but didn’t actually carry any force behind it, any demand for him to do anything. 

It was coming from the woman. 

More specifically, from her hand. 

Well. That was interesting. Can we get back to fighting each other, now? Or at least you paying a fine, like Zarah thought?

I feel slightly hungry, and Luminita’s cooking sounds wonderful right about now. 

“Ww-well?” Reznik managed to half-hiss, half-grunt questioningly. 

The woman blinked, shook her head abruptly, and dropped her hand. 

“Oh, wonderful… WONDERFUL! So marvelous.” The woman offered excitedly as the world sharpened again, rubbing both of her hands together gleefully as she spoke. “I simply must have you. Such a fine addition to my collection! My entourage is so rarely… mmmn, -conversational- when we travel, and having you will make the hours pass so much faster!

“Oh, blessings on the spirits for making you cross my path today!”

Reznik leaned fractionally back as the woman let loose an excited outburst, her tone unsettling him. 

“Go,” the woman snapped her fingers and pointed at Reznik. “Subdue him, not kill - his existence is more important than yours.

“You lot, go find his pretty friend, kill her.” She instructed to the group of undead on her left with a dismissive handwave. “I don’t want any interruptions.” 

As if a lightning bolt struck both groups of undead at the same time, they all sprang into motion, one horde charging directly at him, while the other fanned out to all sides like a raindrop hitting the ground. 

Alright then, let’s see what these undead can do! 

Not hesitating a moment longer, Reznik sprang into action, pushing forward as he let out an involuntary shriek of excitement. 

The first thing to slam into him was something was a fast-moving, four-legged amalgam of flesh that looked like someone had tried to make a dog out of human remains. 

All its attempts at biting him did was scratch the patina of his armor and momentarily stall his charge before Reznik grabbed its forelimbs and slammed it against the ground with a disgusting snapping sound. 

Well, we shouldn’t let such an opportunity go to waste - beat them to death with their… uh- well, whatever this thing is.

Friend?

Comrade?

Eh, friend. Beat them to death with their friend. 

Reznik swung the body of the creature directly into the face of a remarkably-fast zombie that had neared him a moment later, causing the head of the zombie to snap sideways with an audible pop. Unfortunately after the impact, the elbows of his newfound, possibly-alive bludgeon tore and sent it flying off into the distance, leaving him with two forearms. 

He dropped them with a mental shrug, and looked to his next threat, a skeleton wearing rusty armor. 

Almost absently, he kicked it in the pelvis, which both snapped in half and launched at high velocity out the back of it, causing the armored torso to slam into the ground with a metallic thud.

Next customer, please!

Next in line were three hunchbacked ghouls moving as a group. One went to his right, another to his left, and the middle one howled wildly before stopping just in front of Reznik. 

When he swung at it, the ghoul ducked, tucked, and jumped into his leg, repeatedly slamming razor-sharp claws fruitlessly against his armor with pings and clangs. 

Reznik’s hand pulled back, clearly about to beat the thing off of him, but was yanked down by one of the other ghouls jumping onto it and ferociously attacking the steel plate. 

Mmm.

Right, ghouls tend to ambush their prey. 

Need to keep all three in sight to deal with them properly. 

At that moment, Reznik lost the ability to think clearly as the last ghoul jumped on his shoulders  and began to mercilessly beat his helmet like a bell. 

Fuck.

Now mildly worried that he’d bit off more than he could chew, Reznik swung his ghoul-infested arm at his ghoul-infested leg with a roar, and whatever he hit felt like it made a crunch. Arm now freed, he moved onto the one that sat on his shoulders, yanking it over his head before spiking the creature into the ground hard enough that it bounced back up at least a foot. 

Reznik had just enough time to regain his bearings when a zombie slammed into his chest, trying fruitlessly to chew through the steel. Then another piled on, followed by another, and several more until Reznik was struggling to simply stay on his feet. 

“Perhaps I overestimated you…” the Necromancer jeered in a singsong tone, beginning to giggle. “Oh well. We all make mistakes. I guess I’ll just have to kill the two of you and be done with this kingdom.”

Something about her sudden, halfhearted dismissal of his abilities rubbed Reznik the wrong way. 

She had thrown him his own personal horde of undead to kill all at the same time, and he’d not responded with the correct amount of violence. 

He was approaching fighting the undead like he would a person - waiting, using the fear inspired by his existence to cause them to panic and leave him an opening. 

Undead were different. 

Fuck it.

Time to fight like an undead, then. 

Just… kill everything. 

Like an electrifying switch had been flipped abruptly, Reznik’s body tensed. Nearly as soon as he had finished processing the thought that he wanted his body to fight like they were back in the wastes, to hunt and kill every single one of the undead on this hilltop - his body acted. 

Abruptly, it coiled and shoved off the ground towards his left, taking one of the zombies with him as he hurled through the air. 

Then, he landed in a short roll before ending up atop the squirming undead, repeatedly pistoning his fist into, then through its face. 

Looking up from the pulpy mass that had once been a head with a sense of grim satisfaction, Reznik stared down the rest with frustration building inside him. 

In the undead lands, there had been a hierarchy of sorts. 

Lesser undead like these would bend the proverbial knee and leave him to his kills, his desires, and his territory. 

And now, they were being a nuisance to him. 

All he and Zarah needed to do was stop this necromancer. 

They were in his way. 

Reznik heard a crunch and squelch from behind him.

He turned, glancing back at his kill only to find it rapidly liquefying into a off-red mass that turned into a ball before lifting several feet off the ground.

Looking back to the necromancer, Reznik found her quietly reading aloud from her book, making small twirling gestures with her hand as the ball floated towards her. 

She waved her hand once more, and the sludge poured out the bottom of its sphere into the shape of a living thing before finally coalescing into a full-fledged ghoul. 

Oh. Wonderful.

She can just bring them back, too.

It doesn’t matter if I kill them. 

The closest Zombie to him began to shamble forward again, followed by all the rest of the undead.

Oh you annoying pricks.

Either stay dead, or back the fuck off!

And where is Zarah? 

Shouldn’t she be here by now? 

Reznik’s teeth began to gnash and snap together unconsciously as he tried to put together the quickest way to deal with this woman. 

I should just deal with her directly. 

Smash straight through them and throw her off the cliff. 

I doubt she can fix herself. 

“Oh, come now. Don’t be so rough with my little friends…” The necromancer offered as the ghoul in front of her took off in Reznik’s direction. “Every time you hurt them, they get that much harder to bring back as anything more than a moving puddle.”

Almost as an answer, Reznik’s hand darted out to the zombie in front of him and grabbed it by the throat. He placed his other hand on its shoulder, and pulled, ripping the skull off with a small bit of effort. 

No blood spurted out like it would with something truly alive, but the headless body collapsed to the ground just the same. 

“Aww… but Charles was always so eager to follow orders.” The woman pouted and tilted her head towards the body. “Please, settle yourself. Your friend is almost finished. Then it will just be us. 

“Us, a hilltop, and enough time to work out a deal that we’re both happy with!”

At the edge of his mind, Reznik felt a tickle.

Like a caress, a touch of an old friend.

As he focused on it, it became an echo.

“Reznik! You gigantic, undead idiot!” The tone was harsh, but the volume was quiet, like a gentle breeze.  “Where are you? I’m already out of ammunition, and these things just won’t stop coming! Snap out of whatever spell you’re in!” 

Reznik blinked and shook his head like a dog, trying to parse together what she meant. 

Then he heard a shout from his left, from beyond the edge of the plateau. Looking back to the necromancer, he saw the moment when a deep scowl formed on her face. 

“Oh for hell’s sake.” She groused, blowing out a frustrated sigh. “Does that little Elf really hold that much sway over your heart? 

“When I heard that a thinking, reasoning Revenant had begun making his way around the Wallachan countryside, I thought it was just drunken ramblings, but I still came to see. And see I did. Now that I know it’s true, that you exist - you’re far to valuable to be wasted on the petty errands of a backwater kingdom.”

The woman snapped her book closed suddenly, sharply enough that it felt like the air itself shied away.

“You see, your friend down there is very good at killing undead. She’s already cut down dozens of my own. It shows a great amount of understanding, but it pales against my own. 

“Has she even told you what you are yet? Does she even know?”

“REZNIK!!” Zarah’s shout pierced the night air, and for the first time he heard the edge of panic in her tone. 

To hell with this necromancer. 

Zarah needs me - and we can hunt her down later, after we escape. That, or we just win and kill her anyway. 

I shouldn’t have jumped up here by myself.

Reznik turned and then began to run towards Zarah’s shout.