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Revenant's Resolve chapter 31

“Wh-where’s Bo-te-zatu?” Reznik asked, batting away the hands of the woman with rabbit ears as she tried to unclasp a piece of his armor. 

The tiny woman bounced a step back, eying him nervously for a moment before she gulped. 

“He is being fetched… along with other guests, Master Reznik.” The woman informed with trepidation in her tone, bowing her head and fixing her eyes on the floor. “My mother and I were tasked with getting you ready for the banquet by her grace.” 

Her grace? I wond- no, I know who that is. 

This is the Queen’s doing. Oh well, best I let them do as they will. 

Reznik grunted by way of reply, lifting his arms out to the side to make the servant’s job easier. 

They seemed to take this as tacit approval, and began to skillfully strip him of his armor, setting the heavy plates in a velvet-lined chest. Piece after piece they stripped off of him, even taking his chainmail and the leather padding underneath. 

Reznik was left completely naked after what seemed like less than a minute. 

Standing there, he was passingly aware of a door snicking open behind him, and noted when the young woman with rabbit ears bent forward at the waist towards the sound. 

“Your grace…” she offered in time with another voice, who Reznik assumed was her mother. 

Oh shit! 

Royalty. 

Maybe it’s the Queen - I should bow too, right?

Reznik bowed forward in much the same way as the attendant who had just finished stripping him of his armor. 

He heard a deep, frustrated sigh behind him. 

“Reznik, I beg you. For the love of the gods, please turn around.” Zarah begged in a tired, frustrated tone. 

Not rising back up, Reznik began to take small, shuffling steps to turn around and face her voice. 

He hazarded a small glance up and found the Queen watching him with raised eyebrows and an amused expression, along with a slight pink to her cheeks.

Zarah currently was pressing her palm forcefully into her face. 

“At least he bowed.” The Queen added with her lips twitching at the corners. “But I can’t say I’ve ever had a champion… present himself to me like that before.” 

She tilted her head as she looked down at him for a moment longer, then commanded;

“Please, rise.” 

Reznik slowly stood back up straight, making eye contact with Queen Dzvina the whole time. 

She merely stared back with an odd twinkle in her eye. 

“For all his progress, he still lacks some… context in finer ways of society.” Zarah informed Dzvina with a sigh. 

“You’ll remember, Zarah - in his early years, my husband did as well. It was me that guided diplomacy, and him that secured our power.” Queen Dzvina offered with a small giggle. “Being born into lands of blood and death will do that to a man. 

“Well, anyway. Do you think he’ll be able to manage a banquet tonight with the nobility when we return?” 

“Mmmn, maybe.” Zarah and the queen continued to talk about Reznik as if he wasn’t even there. “If we feed him a pile of meat beforehand. From what I’ve learned, his sanity begins to scatter when he gets hungry.”

“Hmmm, interesting. So, he’s simply a normal man, then?” Dzvina’s voice held a twinge of humor, and her sunlight-yellow eyes sparkled when she turned back to Reznik. “My husband was much the same. If he forgot breakfast because he was planning an invasion or the like, he would spend the whole morning trying to find the cubby he’d left his brain in.” 

Then she sighed sadly, a memory seeming to play behind her now-closed eyes. 

“My husband was the kind of man who listened to wise council, but always went with his gut.” Dzvina explained with a tone that had diminished in brightness significantly. “When I first saw you after you returned from my son’s task, my gut told me I should have laid the charge of his rescue at your feet.” 

The Queen closed her eyes and apologetically bowed her head. “I see now that I should have listened to that instinct.

“All this pomp and circumstance just to end where I should have been at the start.”

Queen Dzvina met Reznik’s eyes again, something seeming to solidify behind them.

“In two days, we will be in Kraikov. We will meet the Czhan there, and you will duel his champion, on his terms. I imagine he has some kind of surprise, a trump card we’re not seeing. He wouldn’t offer otherwise” 

Something behind the Queen’s eyes changed, like a mask being pulled to the side just enough to see the person underneath. 

“Can you do it?” she questioned in a much softer tone, despite the fact that the women who had been undressing Reznik had fled the room, leaving just her, Zarah, and himself. “Can you win - and free my boy?” 

The question felt like a dam holding back a sea of emotion that swirled just beneath the surface, and cracks were beginning to show. 

“I will go.” Reznik answered, staring levelly into her eyes. “I w-will sssave him.” 

Dzvina exhaled raggedly, her eyes dipping from Reznik’s for a moment as her shoulders slumped. She took in one more steadying breath, and looked back up to him with a polite smile, the mask of the Queen returned to its place. 

“Wonderful. Now, If you’ll excuse me, I have a rescue to prepare, and a war to plan.” 

  *

Reznik rode in the back of a carriage with Zarah, and oddly enough, Luminita. 

The night before, he’d had dinner with the Queen, Botezatu, Zarah, and Luminita, and had done his best to stay out of the back-and-forth that seemed to jump around the table. 

There had been food for him to focus on, after all. 

Though, he’d been surprised when Luminita advocated for herself to be brought along with them as part of his entourage. 

The woman had argued, respectfully, to Queen Dzvina that as both Zarah’s handmaiden, and Reznik’s friend, that she should be allowed to accompany him - in no small part so he’d never have to be alone with strangers and cause a major diplomatic incident. 

Counter to the worry on Botezatu’s face and tone, the Queen seemed amused by her bold nature, and allowed it. 

Now the carriage trundled along to their destination; the neutral city state of Kraikov, which was sandwiched between the borders of Bessarba, Prussany, and Wallach. 

“So.” Zarah broke the silence with a playful smirk at the edges of her lips. “Luminita tells me you gave her a rather… opulent gift the other day.” 

Zarah pointedly looked down at Luminita’s chest, the necklace clearly visible above the low cut of the garment. 

“I… I th-thou-ght it w-w-was p-pretty.” Reznik admitted, looking down to his feet. He was worried that Zarah would rebuke him for using the silver coins she’d given him for emergencies. 

“And pretty it is. I would almost imagine it’s a courting gift.” Zarah quirked a brow and steepled her fingers. “Is it a courting gift, Reznik?” 

Reznik felt a weight pressing down on his mind, and it wasn’t Zarah’s telepathic presence. Though she was clearly there, the weight was the press of making a snap decision with major consequences, and making it fast. 

His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again several times as he tried to wrap his mind around just exactly how to respond.

Why is Zarah pressing this issue… in front of Luminita no less?

What is she going for?

“It is a courting gift.” Luminta answered for him, wrapping an arm through his. The gesture startled Reznik completely out of his thoughts, and he passed a concerned glance over to her before turning back to Zarah. “I know that he still has a while to go before anything more will be true, but…

“I’ve felt attached to him in a way I couldn’t describe since that night in the woods. He protected me then, protected me in Carcal, and I don’t have any doubt that as time goes on, he will grow into the man I know he is inside.” 

Luminita’s words carried a finality behind them that indicated she was sure in her belief. 

Zarah smirked. 

“I see.” 

Though Zarah’s tone was teasing, and her smile looked genuine, something about it still gave Reznik pause. 

Just the faintest flash of an emotion behind her eyes.

She looked as if she were about to reply for a moment, before the carriage rolled to a halt. 

Zarah rested her hand on her saber in a way that looked reflexive to Reznik before a knock sounded from the door.

“Open it. What is it?” she demanded before a liveried footman opened the door and bowed. 

“Dame, your champion is requested to attend the Queen.” 

“Ah, very well.” Zarah nodded, beginning to rise from her seat along with Reznik. 

“Just… your champion, Dame.” The servant added a moment later.

Reznik was thoroughly confused why his presence was requested, instead of Zarah’s, or even Luminita’s. 

He wasn’t exactly a conversationalist, though at least he could talk now. 

Why on earth the Queen would want to see him, alone was a mystery to him. 

Reznik exited the carriage slowly, stooping to climb out the door before dropping to the ground. Behind him, the carriage shook side to side as it adjusted to the sudden lack of weight. 

He allowed himself to be led up to the equally opulently decorated carriage, being watched pointedly by every one of the large contingent of guards. 

When the door opened, he found the inside of the carriage to be redesigned from his. 

The seats had been stripped away in favor of a large and plush futon spread over the floor, giving just enough space for the Queen and her massive rear end to sit, or lie, comfortably. Which it was for her, he wasn’t sure. 

At the servant’s beckoning, he entered, carefully avoiding the legs of the spider-woman which looked almost delicate. 

A moment later, two different servants brought two trays into the cab, setting them in recessed holders by the door. 

One held a small pile of dried meat, and the other held bread and a large cup of steaming, fragrant tea. 

“Thank you. The journey may resume. We are not to be disturbed until we reach our destination or I call for it, understood?” Dzvina commanded authoritatively, but not impolitely. 

“Yes, highness,” both servants bowed in unison before shutting the door. 

Reznik decided he should probably sit, so he flopped down onto the opposite side of the cab from Dzvina. 

The carriage rattled to life again as the journey resumed, the royal spider seeming to watch him and wait. 

Her six golden eyes were all focused on him, and he wasn’t sure which he should look at. 

Dzvina opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again.

“I feel as though you are… not one for political backstabbing.” Her statement also seemed to be a question in and of itself. “Nor are you one for useless words. The kind of person I can talk to openly”

Reznik gave a slow, cautious nod.

“Then please, eat. All the jerky is for you.” Dzvina smiled brightly, waving an open palm at the silver tray piled with dried meat. 

Reznik stared at the food for a moment before glancing back to the Queen and her kind smile. 

Then, he grabbed several strips and put one in his mouth. It melted on his tongue, the taste of delightful spices greeting him. 

Quickly, he finished the handful. 

“W-why am I h-here?” Reznik asked after putting his thoughts into a manageable order. 

“This is the first I have left the capitol in over five years. In part, I wished for some company - and the kind who won’t twist what I say into rumors for other nobles.” Dzvina answered with a weighty sigh. “The ability to speak freely is a… luxury to someone of my station. Even nobles like Zarah and Botezatu, being raised from the commoners hold risk to speak with. 

“Additionally, I wanted to get to know the man whom I have selected as my champion more. Zarah told me precious little about you, and what little she did reminded me much of my husband.” 

Reznik cocked his head thoughtfully.

Her husband?

Was he undead too?

“W-wasss he u-u-unn-dead too?” Reznik’s words mirrored his thoughts a moment later.

“Hah, no. No he was just a human.” Dzvina smiled sadly, all of her eyes seeming to glaze over for a long moment as if lost in a memory. With a small shake of her head, she returned to this world. “But he was born to a barbarian tribe in the mountains, and lacked much of the tact required for ruling a kingdom. Even if it was one forged by his conquests.”

Reznik shrugged. He hadn’t known the man, but from all he’d heard, the late king sounded like he was a good man and a good ruler. 

Either way, it wasn’t really Reznik’s problem. 

All Reznik wanted was his friends safe, and food in his belly. 

At least he could be sure of one in this carriage, he imagined as he devoured another strip of the spiced dried meat. 

Then he froze, with the meat halfway to his mouth and frowned. 

There had to be more to life than that, just being safe and fed. 

Memories of Botezatu’s talk about choices, about not letting his destiny be controlled by the changing river of fate. 

If the Queen, the single most important person in the country, wanted to talk with him for a time, he would let her, and -then- eat. 

“It’s not poisoned.” The Queen looked confused as he set the handful of jerky back on the tray. 

“W-wouldn’t mat-ter.” Reznik smirked back. 

He wasn’t lying either, as far as he knew. 

Many of the corpses he’d feasted on in the past were well beyond what could be considered “rotting” and would likely have been the death of most other living things. 

Moving with his own thoughts, Reznik asked a question that had been bothering him. 

“W-w-why co-me with us-s?” he asked the Queen, his head rolling to his shoulder. “Y-you’re the Q-Queen. You shou-ld b-be in the c-cast-le.” 

Dzvina inhaled deeply, her lips turning down into a scowl. 

“The Czhan’s offer to return my son was balanced down by an equally weighty cost if my champion lost.” Dzvina stared at Reznik with hostility in all six of her eyes. “Myself. 

“To become his concubine, and surrender my kingdom to his empire.”

Her gaze flicked down to the floor as she continued;

“As I have no other heirs by my late husband, I must choose between risking everything I built with him through a succession crisis, or through a hail-mary gamble of a duel.” Dzvina’s eyes came back up to his, the hostility gone, but the iron remaining. “I come because I fear for my son, my kingdom, and myself - in that order.

“I’m using these two days of travel to… reassure myself that I’ve made the right decision putting my faith in the undead madman that one of my inquisitors brought back from the wastes. There will not be a second chance for me.” 

Though Reznik could see and hear the resolve in her words, Reznik knew that this was a moment of incredible vulnerability on her part to him. 

A massive olive branch extended, as Reznik was sure that showing even the smallest hint of weakness and self-doubt was tantamount to suicide among the nobility. 

Reznik considered it for a moment, and then accepted the olive branch by way of grabbing the handful of jerky and stuffing it in his mouth. By the time he swallowed, he had put together his next words. 

“I c-come fo-rrr my f-friends.” He stated bluntly, the words feeling unfinished on his tongue. 

Dzvina watched him for a moment longer, her eyebrows raised expectantly as if waiting for something to happen. 

Then, she snorted and shook her head. 

“Were my late husband still here with us, he would have made a dirty joke from that.” She chuckled absently. “In fact, he likely would have loved you. Honestly, he probably would have gone over my head and knighted you for what you did in Carcal, the other nobles and their opinions be damned.”

Reznik heard a loud pop, likely from a stone in the road. Then a second one came with a shower of splinters. 

A small, finger-sized hole spilled sunlight into the side of the carriage a shouts rang out around them.

“Ambush! Push out!” came a muffled yell before the world devolved into a cacophony of small explosions.

The carriage began to rattle and jostle in earnest, likely as the driver pushed the horses ever faster. 

With a thud, the carriage dropped to the ground in one corner, then stopped moving, spilling the tray of jerky across the carriage floor. 

“Fuck, they hit the wheel!” another voice shouted. “Buy me time to fix it!” 

With a mental sigh, Reznik knew his chance at a peaceful ride to their destination just went out the window. He knew what he had to do, and reached for the door latch as Dzvina looked concerned. 

“S-stay s-s-safe.” He gave her a small nod before throwing open the deceptively heavy door and stepping outside. 

The carriage had come to a stop in the middle of an open patch of field that the road snaked through. A small distance away to either side was a wall of trees, which was where the shooting was coming from. 

A crouched royal guard in the same gold-trimmed black coat as everyone else fired a round back at the trees from just in front of Reznik. 

“Get down!” he shouted, briefly turning over his shoulder at Reznik. 

Instead, Reznik let his instincts guide him. 

He shot forward, sprinting at full tilt across the open field, directly at the muzzle flashes. 

Not only had they interrupted his conversation, they had spilled his jerky - which was actually quite good. 

Not Luminita’s cooking good, but enjoyable. 

It felt like the air around him began to snap and pop, before the pinging started.

Rounds glanced off his armor, sending showers of sparks this way and that as he closed the distance with the ambushers. 

He saw the first one, a stocky woman in a mottled green cloak not far from him. 

Her eyes were wide and fearful as she ran the action of her rifle and fired again, sending sparks from her shoulder.

She didn’t get a chance to fire again as he was upon her. 

He ripped her arm from her socket, twisting the flesh until it discolored, then shredded at the joint. He ignored her screams, hurling her at a nearby tree and cutting her wail off with a crunch. 

Another round pinged off of him, and he saw the pointy-eared man a short distance away, running the action of his rifle.

Reznik leapt and swung the severed limb at his skull, hitting with enough force to pulp the Elf’s head. 

Reznik heard a gurgle behind him, then another muffled bang. 

He turned to find Zarah with a sword through a green-skinned woman’s gut, the barrel of a pistol under the larger woman’s jaw. 

Reznik had a brief moment of confusion, as neither weapon was hers, or at least he didn’t recognize them. 

Nor had she been armed in the carriage. 

When he saw the empty holster at the Orc’s hip, he understood. 

Zarah ripped the sword free and spun to face at Reznik. 

“Shall we?” she asked with a wild grin, pointing the tip of her sword deeper into the woods. “Imagine the meal Luminita will cook tonight if you save her again.” 

The small waggle of the Elven telepath’s eyebrows was more than enough motivation for him.

Revenant's Resolve Chapter 30

Reznik turned after Botezatu onto the long walkway that led to his home. As he walked, Reznik noted the birds in the trees - more specifically, the nests in nearly every branch. He still needed to ask Luminita how exactly her connection with them worked. 

Regardless, Reznik thought it was nice. 

The air here was never silent, not like the wastes. It was always full of song and life, and the amount of nests sent an odd, fleeting pang of something into his chest when he thought about them.

He didn’t really understand it, so he simply ignored it. 

There were far more pressing matters to think about, such as the duel coming tomorrow, and the wax paper-wrapped bundle of spiced meat that Botezatu kept close at hand. Kept close at hand and wouldn’t allow Reznik to munch on before they got home. 

Criminal was what it was, dragging Reznik along for almost an hour’s walk, forced to smell the succulent meat-on-a-stick from the city without an opportunity to taste it. 

Reznik’s stomach growled loudly, noticably enough for Botezatu to turn over his shoulder with an entertained smirk. 

“Not gonna go completely feral on me, are ya?” Botezatu chuckled, turning back to the path. 

“M-may-be.” Reznik grumbled under his breath, causing Botezatu to laugh boisterously. 

“Mmm, is that so?” Botezatu stopped in his tracks and turned to stare at Reznik. Reznik also halted, eying the older man with concern as Botezatu seemed to decide whether or not Reznik was joking.. “Tell you what, son. I’ll give you a lesson and a choice.”

Botezatu’s humor had fled almost in an instant, replaced by a stern frown. 

“Zarah believes you’re a man. Luminita believes that you’re a man. But sometimes, you seem act like little more than a tamed beast, a slave to your urges. 

“Hunger, violence, even curiosity.” 

Botezatu took a step towards Reznik and held out the package of meat with a raised eyebrow and an expression that made Reznik wonder if accepting the offered item was a good idea.

“Men make choices, sacrifices for delayed benefit. They aren’t paper boats being carted down a stream. So I’ll let you choose.” Botezatu jiggled the package demonstratively, causing small rivulets of meat juice to drip out the side enticingly. “I can give you all of this now, and you can stay out here with the other beasts of the wild, or, you can make a decision to go hungry for another hour, ten minutes, maybe even three hours until whenever lunch is ready. If you do that, you can come inside. You can take off that armor, eat supper with me and my family.

“So make your choice - man, or beast?” 

Reznik stared at the food for a long moment, and almost reached out to snatch it. After all, he’d spent thousands of nights out under the stars. It wasn’t anything to him to spend another night out here. 

But something deeper in himself caught, latched into place, and refused to let him reach any further for the food. 

Looking down to his hand with a bit of frustration, Reznik saw it was clutched around the silver pendant of the necklace he wished to give Luminita. 

No. 

I must be patient. I’ve spent a million nights under the stars, but just as many going hungry. 

Luminita is more important than food, giving her this necklace is more important than food. 

Reznik breathed in deeply, lowering his hand back to his side as he met Botezatu’s pointed glare. 

“I am a man.” Reznik answered with an air of firm finality to his tone that surprised even him. He barely even stuttered, instead, only a slight quaver was in his words. 

Botezatu’s chin lifted fractionally, dipping down in a nod after a moment. 

“Good.” He waved the hand holding the meat over his shoulder, beckoning Reznik to follow. “Now. Let’s go see what the women are up to. I’m sure they’ll be surprised to see us back so early!”

Reznik held the necklace a little tighter in his hand, following Botezatu to the front door, which he threw open with a flourish. 

From within came harmonizing voices, and Botezatu quickly grabbed the door before it could slam into the wall. Whatever he was about to yell into the home died on his lips as he turned to Reznik with a grin, putting his finger to his lips. 

Botezatu crept deeper inside, followed by a mesmerized Reznik. 

The song was a call and response between Luminita and her mother, with shared choruses that the tunes blended together in. As he grew closer, Reznik made out the words clearly. 

The song was between two women, complaining about their idiot husbands, and how much they loved them - no matter how much they complained in the verses, the chorus always ended with them being happy that their men were home and safe. 

Reznik and Botezatu successfully snuck into the main central room that branched off to many of the others. Oona’s voice came from the kitchen, and Luminita’s came from the washroom. 

Reznik closed his eyes and simply let himself be wrapped in sound that seemed to fill the room like a warm summer breeze. He didn’t even know she could sing before this, and yet it felt like a salve for his soul. 

In one of Luminita’s verses, the volume of her song changed, growing louder for several moments before it fell away. 

Reznik opened his eyes and found her halfway to exiting the laundry room door, staring at himself and Botezatu with rapidly pinking cheeks. 

“Oh… I-erm didn’t expect you two to be home yet!” Luminita chirped nervously, glancing towards the entrance to the kitchen. 

“Please, don’t stop on our account.” Botezatu chuckled happily, waving his hand towards where Oona’s voice had come from. “It’s been years since I’ve heard your mother sing.” 

Botezatu looked to Reznik with a raised eyebrow, as if to ask - don’t you agree?

Reznik nodded deeply, missing the feeling the sound gave him. 

“S-s-son-g pre-tty.” He quickly added with a bob of his head, not having time to think of a longer compliment. 

Luminita blushed even deeper, briefly glancing to the floor before her eyes widened and she looked back to Botezatu. 

“The duel!” she both informed and asked in a panic. 

“Is finished. Reznik’s opponent forfeited before the fight started.” Botezatu soothed with a small chuckle. “We stopped on the way back and grabbed some ingredients for lunch, along with… other things.” 

Botezatu’s mustache tweaked up at the corner as he finished, his twinkling eyes settling on Reznik. 

“I’ll go give these to your mother, Luminita. While I do - I think Reznik here actually picked up something for you, believe it or not.” 

Botezatu delivered a small salute with his unoccupied hand before making a speedy exit into the kitchen. 

Luminita watched him go with a briefly bewildered expression before she turned it on Reznik. 

“Something for me?” she asked, a curious grin spreading across her face. “What is it?” 

Reznik gulped, his feet suddenly feeling far more unsteady than they had any right to. Slowly, he raised his hand, still curled around the pendant. 

“F-fou-nd at t-the m-mar-ket.” He opened his fist, revealing the glittering silver and sapphire. “It w-was p-pret-ty.” 

Luminita’s breath caught when she saw the necklace, her eyes briefly going wide as her pupils also dilated before they shot down to pinpricks. 

“L-like y-you.” Reznik added as she began to reach for the gift. 

Luminita’s cheeks went scarlet, her hand frozen just above Reznik’s as she seemed to consider something that was a mystery to him. 

She breathed in and let it out in a shuddering exhale as she took the necklace and began to inspect it. 

“I… didn’t know you felt that way. Didn’t know you -could- feel that way.” Luminita noted with a small nod, smiling happily down at the shiny hunk of metal in her hand. “Here, help me get it on?” 

She spun, turning her back to him and pulling her hair to the side. Then, she lifted both sides of the unclasped, delicate chain around to him. 

Okay. I can do this. 

I can.

Reznik gave himself a small pep talk as he mentally prepared to use the finest of movements to open the delicate clip and fix it around her neck. 

It was a task that for some reason felt far more daunting than any fight he’d experienced. With shaking fingers, he tried in vain to actuate the toggle several times before he finally managed to catch it. Gingerly, he brought the open hook to the metal loop on the other end, missed, and tried again. 

This time it caught, and with deliberate focus, he shot both of his hands open as wide as possible, letting the toggle snap into place as the necklace fell to her back. 

“D-done.” Reznik said, letting out a rush of air as he smiled at his work. 

Luminita turned around, a blisteringly bright smile on her face as she clutched at the gift protectively. 

“It’s beautiful.” She beamed up at him. “Thank you.” 

Luminita let the pendant hang before she stood to her tiptoes and planted a small kiss on Reznik’s cheek. 

When she fled the room a moment later, it left Reznik in a stunned silence, his thoughts sloshing back and forth in his head like a wild sea blown by a tempest. 

The small gesture also left him wanting… more. 

  *

“Master Reznik - if you’d follow me?” the servant asked, rousing Reznik from his contemplative stare at the floor. 

This was it - the final fight in the tournament, and the servant was about to lead him to the coliseum entrance as he had every other time. 

The difference was that this time, Botezatu wasn’t there. He was in the stands with Luminita and Oona, who’d decided to come inexplicably for this fight. 

Reznik wondered why the two women had been reluctant to attend his other two fights, but today had decided that this one, specifically. 

He set those thoughts aside for the time being as he stood to his feet and waved his hand, indicating for the man to lead him to the entrance. 

When Reznik stepped out into the blistering sunlight of midday, squinting for a moment as his eyes adjusted. Then, a wave of sound crashed down upon him - the cheering and boos of hundreds of people. 

He panned his head this way and that, seeing that a great many in the audience were cheering not for his opponent, but for him. 

His opponent hadn’t even shown up yet. Who else could they be cheering for?

As Reznik scanned the crowd, he couldn’t see Luminita, Botezatu, or Oona. Instead his eyes fell on an opulently-decorated box of seats, sequestered from the other citizens. 

The Queen herself rested on a futon, dressed in immaculate golden robes and jewelry. He made eye contact with her for a long second before she smirked, and turned to talk to the man on her left. 

Tarron whispered something in the Queen’s ear that made her laugh. 

On the Queen’s other side was a hooded figure. Reznik couldn’t see their face, but he felt something as he squinted to the mystery person. Something familiar. 

“Hello, Thinker.” Reznik heard Zarah’s voice in his mind, using the nickname she’d had for him before she knew his name. “My, how far you’ve come in such a short time. You’re doing well, well enough to impress the Queen. 

“She even let me out of that box for this.”

“-And for the houses of Tarron and Ketracz, we have master Ferrin!” an announcer boomed, just barely audible on the edge of Reznik’s mind. 

Looking across the field briefly, Reznik saw a Centaur trot out from the gate, absolutely brimming with armor and weapons. 

“I should go now. It’s taxing to hold the connection for this long, this far.” Zarah sighed in Reznik’s mind, before adding; “And Reznik - don’t lose. I know you can do this.” 

Zarah’s comforting presence left his thoughts then, but her words didn’t. 

The confidence she placed in him left Reznik with his own sense of confidence, looking back to the mountain of a Centaur with a set jaw. 

Reznik’s opponent glared down at him from several paces away now, clearly just waiting for the call to start. The Centaur was easily ten feet tall, with a powerful muscles rippling coiled up and down his horse side.

His human side wasn’t anything to ignore either, and would have easily dwarfed Reznik if he just had normal legs. 

Ferrin’s hoof stomped the ground. 

“You don’t look like half as intimidating as he said you would.” Ferrin snorted at Reznik with a heavy accent. “Just another puny man.”

Reznik simply stared back at the Centaur, not having any reply that he cared to make. 

“Fighters ready!” the announcer shouted, and Ferrin took a new stance, holding his massive sword aloft. “BEGIN!” 

With blinding speed, the centaur ripped free a sword that would have been comically large for anyone else, and swung out at Reznik. 

Reznik was suddenly flying. 

He hit the ground with a clatter of metal, skidding along the dirt until he rolled to a stop in a heap, shaking his head. 

Reznik pushed to his knees, distantly aware of his body feeling pain in his left arm. 

Looking over to it, he found the armor over his bicep was bent inward, with a deep crease where the Centaur’s blade had impacted. 

He frowned, mildly irked that Ferrin had actually managed to damage the plate. 

Okay. This one isn’t like Velyonis. No showboating, nothing fancy. 

We kill him, and kill him as dead as possible. 

His frustration trickled into a building wrath as Reznik stood to his feet, his head lolling back as a wild, piercing howl escaped his lips. 

Ferrin slowed his run to a gentle gallop, then a trot a few feet away as he circled Reznik with a curious expression on his face. 

Almost experimentally, Ferrin poked out with the giant sword, and Reznik instinctively grabbed it by the blade, jerking with all the force he could muster. It came free of Ferrin’s hand, who sprang back instead of trying to hold onto it. 

Instead of curiosity, Ferrin’s expression was now one of disdain, like Reznik was a bug in need of squashing. 

Reznik whirled around and flung the blade back to Ferrin with a whistle of steel cutting air. 

Ferrin only barely dodged the majority of the sword by ducking, but the tip still caught his cheek, leaving a small upwelling of blood. 

The Centaur let out a small chuff of air, touching his cheek with a gloved hand and inspecting the blood there. 

“Fine then.” Ferrin growled, hefting a large axe over his shoulder. “Perhaps I underestimated you, besjmeryiny. I will fight you as you have decided. 

“You will lose with your honor intact.” 

The centaur spun the axe in his hand, now having the pointed end facing out. 

Reznik considered his next course of action, how he should go about attacking his opponent. 

No. I need to stop thinking, stop trying to plan ahead. 

Reznik inhaled and steadied himself as he sank down almost to his haunches. 

I need to fight like I did when Zarah found me. 

Unhinged and undead. He won’t expect that. 

Instead of attacking head-on like Ferrin likely expected, Reznik sank into his mind and tried to stifle his thoughts, to shove them down in a deep box and act entirely on instinct. 

Ferrin was food. 

Was enemy. 

Then, he sprang up into the air with a wild howl. 

A part of Reznik was delighted at the slack-jaw the man had when he watched Reznik sail over him in an arc. 

Roaring, Reznik finished his dive, preparing to bring his fists down on Ferrin’s head, only to feel the sting of the Axe’s spike driving into his chest before flinging him. 

Reznik hit the ground but rolled into a crouch, sliding across the ground for several more feet before he started to sprint back towards Ferrin. 

Ferrin readied the axe, holding it over the shoulder as he clearly intended to cut Reznik in two. 

Reznik dropped into a slide at the last possible second, the blade whistling over him as he slid under the horse part of Ferrin. He brought his fist around and slammed it into Ferrin’s leg, being rewarded with a loud crunch and a whinnying scream from the man. 

Ferrin stumbled away, but not before delivering a powerful kick to Reznik’s chest in the process that sent him rolling away. 

When Reznik came to a stop, he rose to his knees, then his feet. 

Ferrin’s hind quarters were still up in their, though his forelegs had lowered to their knees as he leaned on the halberd. 

Ferrin breathed heavily, a deep scowl on his face. With a groan of effort, he tried to rise - pushing up on the polearm with enough force to bend the haft, only to stumble back to his knees. 

“Been a long time since I needed to see a healer, moyi brata, and even longer since someone brought me to my knees without a weapon.” Ferrin gave Reznik a slow, respectful nod without taking his eyes off him. “Thank you for exposing my weakness - it will be fixed.”

Ferrin chuckled throatily before shoving himself forcefully back to standing. In his left hand, he gripped the halberd like a cane, keeping his injured leg off the ground. In his other, he drew a short sword and held it up in a guard. 

“Well… -if- I live.” 

Reznik was caught off guard by Ferrin’s bright, feral smile. 

Almost if the man was frozen in between glee and pain. 

Reznik decided he would offer the man a proverbial olive branch, and give him a chance to forfeit now. At least once. 

“G-give uh-up.” 

Ferrin laughed again, his grin growing wilder. 

“Come over here and make me, soldyachti.” Ferrin flicked the tip of his sword up and to the tip of his nose before whipping it back out. “I haven’t surrendered in fifty winters, and I won’t start now.”

Reznik shrugged. 

“Oh-kay.” 

Without further ado, he shot forward in a mad dash before jumping as high as he could. Ferrin watched him, clearly trying to anticipate where Reznik would land so he could strike him. 

As Reznik reached the zenith of his arc, Ferrin covered his eyes suddenly, squinting and grimacing. 

Reznik came down like a shooting star, aiming for the center of Ferrin’s back, much like Zarah rode her horse. Ferrin tried to swing, but missed as it was wild in a way that told Reznik he hadn’t seen where he would land. 

Reznik crashed down on the Ferrin’s horse-part, bringing Ferrin’s haunches to the ground in a crunching thud. Recovering from the fall quickly, Reznik proceeded to grab Ferrin’s neck with one hand, and punch the back of his head repeatedly with the other as the man groaned, stunned by the impact. 

Ferrin tried to reach back and grab Reznik, but his hands fruitlessly just slapped at Reznik’s armor. After more and more blows, Ferrin’s hands stopped struggling and slid down to hang loosely at his sides.

Reznik swung a final powerful blow with a growl, and then sprang off the man, slowly circling around to see Ferrin’s front, wondering if the Centaur was out of fight yet.

Ferrin’s head lolled to the side as he wheezed, then the rest of his torso followed, falling to a heap in a billow of dust. 

Silence reigned for several long seconds before the audience roared in a chorus of cheers. 

“Reznik the Deathless wins!” the announcer boomed as Reznik watched Ferrin for any signs of life.

He didn’t see any, even as he was herded off the field by a small throng of attendants, two healers rushing to the badly wounded or dead centaur. 

Revenant's Resolve Chapter 29

“H-hat oh-off?” Reznik asked Botezatu as they stood in one of the private areas just for fighters and their entourages. 

Little more than a stable with crown-provided chairs and tables was all it really was. 

“Not until we’re back home, with food in your belly. Luminita’s told me all about how you get testy unless you’ve eaten, especially if you’ve been hurt.” Botezatu grunted from where he leaned back in his chair. “I’d like to avoid any risk of you snacking on the poor people gathered for the tournament. Too much is at stake for a little slip up like that.” 

It was a fair point if Reznik was being honest with himself, but something was frantically itching at the back of his skull. 

He couldn’t scratch it through the thick metal of the helmet. 

As if summoned by Botezatu’s words, a man in a royal house servant’s tabbard stepped through the front of their stall. 

“Sir Botezatu, congratulations on your fighter’s victory today.” The man offered with a deep bow, righting himself to pull free a seal-studded scroll from the satchel at his side. “Lord-Commander Tarron was deeply impressed by it, and has decided to grant Master Reznik the opportunity of sponsorship in the tournament. You’ll find the details in this.” 

Oh? A gift for me? But I’m already being sponsored by Botezatu - can I be sponsored by both, or is it an either/or situation?

With a mental shrug, Reznik figured that Botezatu would explain it in time, likely after reading through and considering the merits of what he was reading. 

“Thank you, son.” Botezatu nodded graciously as he accepted the proffered item. 

Then, the messenger clacked his heels together, bowed, and quickly fled the stall. 

Reznik’s thoughts turned to food, more specifically, the various food carts he’d seen in and around the tournament grounds. 

This morning, he’d seen a man setting up what looked to be a giant chunk of meat on a stick, and wondered if he’d still be there. 

Two birds, one stone he imagined. Food and a chance to get at the fucking itch at the back of his skull. 

“That’s… odd.” Botezatu murmured, drawing Reznik’s attention back to him. Now, Botezatu was flipping the scroll around, back to front. 

Both sides seemed to be blank. 

“Gods dammit, Tarron, what new nonsense are you up to?” Botezatu groused, setting the paper down on his lap. “It’s blank.”

Blank? Is this some kind of threat because I beat his champion?

Reznik looked back and forth, waiting patiently for Botezatu to add to the statement. 

“Blasted Satyrs. Let’s wait a moment longer here, I’m sure -something- will happen. Why on earth would he leave it blank?”

“I left it blank for this conversation, Thomman.” The voice that came around the corner was physically grating to Reznik’s ears, dripping with an energy he didn’t recognize. It was as if the man’s words were a form of magic antithetical to Reznik’s existence. “For us to… negotiate. 

“Velyonis has been a prize fighter of mine for… seven tournaments now. A shoe-in for victor, fighting what’s sure to be a decisive battle for the stakes of the kingdom. 

“And yet… Zarah’s pet here trounced him, proceeding to publicly embarrass him in front of a massive audience.” 

Lord-Commander Tarron wore a dark uniform similar to Zarah’s, but with gilded embossing and tassels around the borders of the fabric. The half-goat, half man leaned up against the side of the stall and seemed to ponder for a moment, running his tongue along rows of square, flat teeth. 

“Many in my position would be… upset. Likely take that as a personal insult of one form or another.”

Tarron’s odd, oval-shaped eyes fell on Reznik as lopsided grin overtook his face. 

“Luckily, I wasn’t born into nobility. I was born into war, and know when to change tact.” Tarron shoved himself off the wall with his elbow and began to approach Reznik, circling him as he continued; “Know where and when to hedge my bets. 

“What Botezatu holds, my dear undead, is a blank check - so to speak.” Reznik cocked his head at the odd man, the phrase ringing a bell in his mind but he couldn’t fathom from where. “Zarah was very much in the right to see potential in you, and I’m deeply sorry that it’s taken this much for me to notice the same. 

“You see, I also want your lovely Elven maiden back and free. She’s too powerful of an asset to be wasted on a cell, gilded or not.

“So I have a proposition. An offer, and just to demonstrate my beneficence, I’m going to let you set your terms. If you wish, you can even have the knight here advocate on your behalf. Zarah told me little of you, as we didn’t have much time to speak since you were allowed to exist, but I do know a thing or two. 

“I think you’re very much your own man in there, though words may come slow or not at all. Tell me, can you speak in full sentences yet?” 

The way Tarron asked the question felt heavily weighted. As if it were a test in and of itself, and he wasn’t actually curious. Biting back on his initial urge to say something snarky in return, Reznik reasoned that this man was Zarah’s boss, and she would appreciate him not burning her bridges. 

“W-word-sss are h-h-hard.” Something flashed behind Tarron’s eyes as Reznik answered. “Figh-ting is ea-sy.” 

Lord-Commander Tarron began to chuckle boisterously leaning back as his smile seemed to grow a little too wide. 

“Oh my oh my, undead -and- a philosopher! I never would’ve expected… but yes, if that weren’t the case, we’d have a million nobles, and seldom few soldiers. But I do applaud you, that kind of realization takes many men years to come to.” 

Reznik didn’t answer that statement with anything other than his continued stare. 

Something about the man still rubbed him the wrong way, as if he were staring at the very top of a deeply buried rock. There was far more beneath the surface to this man than how he portrayed himself. 

“Why? What do you want out of this?” Botezatu questioned, setting the blank piece of paper that was little more than a piece of set dressing on the poorly-crafted table beside him. 

“You know, if it were anyone but you asking, Sir Botezatu, I’d probably lie.” Lord-Commander Tarron’s jaw set and his brows furrowed as he turned to the man. “I want what everyone wants. Power.

“Ever since we came to the conclusion that the undead lands were the result of a curse far older than the kingdom, we’ve been sidelined. Much as your beloved Riverguard has, too.” 

That admission caused Botezatu to lean back in his seat and raise a curious eyebrow, as if to say “go on.”

“By supporting the champion I think has the best chance of winning, and therefore freeing the prince, I have nothing to lose but scant time and coin, while standing to gain so much.” Tarron turned back to Reznik and fixed him with an intense frown. “Given that you’re here, doing all this - I imagine you understand the value of loyalty, a favor owed. 

“And when those debts are held by the Queen, the Prince, and the most powerful telepath in my employ… well, many doors can be unlocked.

“Think on my offer. I’ll be by before the next duel to talk about it. Good day!” With a flurry of his overcoat, the Lord-Commander spun and exited the sad excuse for a room, waving over his shoulder. “I hope to hear good things.” 

Odd man. 

Very odd, but powerful. I probably shouldn’t cross him if I can avoid it. 

Hopefully I can take just enough help from him to make him feel like he has some credit, and then be able to forget about it. 

  *

Now that’s odd. 

Why would they do that? Just, withdraw without even fighting. 

Why even enter the tournament, then?

Reznik currently read the missive over Botezatu’s shoulder. The opponent of his next fight had forfeited abruptly that morning, and without reason. Which meant that Reznik’s final fight would be the one that made or broke their plans to free Zarah. 

"It appears your stunt the other day panned out better than you thought.” Botezatu chuckled throatily, shaking the paper out with a small pop before he set it on the table and shrugged. “I never would’ve expected Sir Karavecz to pull out that easily. He’s been a greedy, stubborn little shit ever since he was a squire.”

Botezatu clucked his tongue and shrugged before taking a swig from the small flask at his belt. 

Then, Reznik smelled it, long before he saw the man. 

A faint musk on the breeze. 

Lord-Commander Tarron neared. 

Reznik turned his head this way and that, awaiting the man’s assured arrival. 

Moments later, the man stepped around, then leaned up against the wall of the stall with a broad, self-assured smirk.

“And just like that, another domino falls.” Tarron proclaimed proudly, extending his arms wide to his sides. “I hear your reputation has spread through the people of this city, o’ Deathless Knight. The rumors in the pubs, the gambling dens, and even in the noble quarters all say that you’re unkillable. 

“Unstoppable, even. So much so, that convincing a brash young knight in the employ of a mercantile house was probably easy. A splash of coin, and a tincture of mushrooms. Clearly, he’s forfeited not because he’s intimidated, but because he’s come down with such a horrible flu.” 

Reznik cocked his head, unsure if he should trust the insinuation that Tarron was behind all that. 

“Mm, how fortunate for us.” Botezatu noted with a pronounced frown. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it sounds like we have someone powerful working on our behalf.” 

“Funny how that works.” Tarron replied almost immediately, his smile growing a shade brighter. “But now, I ask; have you thought more on my offer?”

As it turned out, they had. 

And we’re gonna go with no for you, Tarron. 

Mainly because you seem slimy, and Botezatu doesn’t trust you. 

“Lord-Commander, respectfully, I believe we need to decline.” Botezatu offered with a polite nod. “I’ve had little use for my own pay for years, and have more than enough to see us through to the end of all this.”

While that was true, there was another reason why they were declining the offer of sponsorship from the man. 

Botezatu had explained that he was a political shark, and not the kind of man to be indebted to. Working for him as Zarah did was one thing, but owing favors to a man like him would likely lead to Reznik getting sucked into things he really didn’t want to do down the line. 

Honestly, the number of conflicts between factions in the nobility made Reznik’s head spin. 

Tarron sighed and shook his head disapprovingly. 

“Well, can’t fault me for trying. Just remember, when the time comes - you could’ve had my backing.” Tarron pushed himself off the wall and simply turned away. “Ta’!” 

The man threw a hand over his shoulder as he exited without a further word. 

There was something ominous to the tone of his farewell, but Reznik couldn’t actually tell if it was just his imagination or not. 

“That goat is up to something…” Botezatu murmured with notable frustration in his voice, pushing out of his chair. “My guess is that he’s about to go offer his support to our competition. 

“Too bad all the money in the world can’t fix simply being unprepared for the fight ahead of them.” 

Botezatu thumped the pauldron of Reznik’s armor with the meat of his fist, grinning proudly. 

“Just remember. No reason to hold back in the next one. They’ll mean business, and you don’t need to keep any of those tricks up your sleeve for later.” Botezatu began to lead him out of the stall as he continued: “The only thing that matters tomorrow is victory. 

“Today, however… hmmm. I think the lovely ladies that have been doing such a good job of caring for us need to be thanked properly. Let’s hit the shops before heading back, yeah?” 

Reznik allowed himself to be led by the man as he put together his question. It was one that had been brewing for several days, but in some ways had itched at him since Carcal. 

“Y-yoou lo-ve Oooo-nah?” Reznik asked as they walked, causing Botezatu to stiffen and take a deep breath. 

He turned his head fractionally back to Reznik, exhaled a breath that seemed relieved, and nodded.

“Since I was just a young Lieutenant in the Riverguard. The entire reason I stepped into my first tournament was to provide her a better life than just a butcher’s son could provide.” Botezatu sighed deeply and slowed his pace down to match Reznik. “I didn’t even get the chance to enjoy my new title by the time the old King squirreled me away on campaign.” 

There seemed like there was more on the way from the man as he seemed to stare blankly ahead of them. 

Knowing Botezatu, there probably was. 

The man was always a font of stories and information, asked for or not. 

“I called off the wedding from inside the healers tent. I didn’t want her to be left a widow before her twenty-first winter.” Botezatu groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose before shaking his head. “I was an idiot. 

“A scared little idiot who’d never seen more than the inside of this city.” Botezatu smiled in a sad way over to Reznik as they exited the restricted area of the arena, the sounds of battle coming from just beyond the gates to their left. 

They turned right, and into the merchant’s quarter. 

“Wasn’t all bad, in the end. Fifteen years or so, they give me my own section to command, and set me down in Carcal, where they’d just paid for a bunch of settlers to relocate to, and who’s there but her?

“And with a young girl, curiously close to fifteen years old, at the time.” 

The way Botezatu had said itched at Reznik’s mind. 

Wait. Is Luminita, Botezatu’s daughter? 

Is that why they they feel so strained around eachother?

Reznik decided that asking couldn’t hurt. 

“L-Luminita is y-yours?” 

Botezatu looked him in the eye with a resolute stare, and nodded.

“Yes.” The singular word carried with it a weight that felt like an axe being raised. 

However his next question felt like the axe was being dropped. 

“You know, she seems to have it in her head that the two of you are meant to be something more than… friends.” Botezatu quirked a brow as an amused grin tweaked the corner of his mustache. “I think she gets her taste in men from her mother. A literal knight in shining armor? Positively irresistible. 

“Though it does beg the question, is that even something you can do?” 

Botezatu let the question hang as they approached one of the food carts. 

Reznik’s joy that it was the mystery-meat-on-a-stick cart was overshadowed by his introspection. 

Was he capable of something more than just friendship? 

Inside himself, it felt like he was standing at the edge of a chasm where whatever he was used to be. 

A bottomless pit in his soul, shouting questions into it only for his thoughts to echo back distorted and unintelligible. 

Whatever was there was gone now, sleeping or dead. 

For years, the lie that whatever he did wasn’t him but this nebulous thing, like a spirit possessing his body wasn’t believable any more. 

All that was left was him, alone in his own mind. 

He followed Botezatu silently as the man perused the stalls, picking a piece of jewelry here, a bouquet of flowers there. When they neared the end of the gaggle of merchants and citizens, Reznik’s eyes caught on a nearly-empty stand, and something that sparkled there. 

Going over to it, Reznik found it was a necklace. 

Artfully crafted from silver and blue gemstones, the pendant depicted a bird in a death spiral with a serpent. 

It was beautiful, and he slowly reached out for it. 

“Ahh, customer!” an old crone pushed herself off a crate nearby as she croaked out a sputter of laughter. “And here I thought my wares had already been picked clean for the day.”

Her sightless eyes seemed to pin Reznik in place before she glanced down at the necklace. How she could see with her eyes full of milky white cataracts, he wasn’t sure. 

“Ah that one… so beautiful. Pretty. Shiny! Many birds chase what shines the shiniest, and oh…” she began to cackle in a way not that different from one of the crows that nested around wherever Luminita spent most of her time. “How death glitters.” 

Reznik looked back to the piece of jewelry that touched his finger, inhaled, and realized that it would look wonderful on Luminita. 

“H-how m-m-much?” 

The crone cocked her head to the right, then the left, sniffing the air once. 

Her pupils dilated wide once before they shot to pinpricks. 

“For you? Mmmm? For wife? Mistress?” her question felt searching in a way that was far more than mere curiosity. 

“F-forrr f-frien-d.” 

The woman narrowed her eyes, grunted in a croaking way, and shook her head dramatically from side to side. 

“No, no, no, no, no. Mn-mn. Not for friend. Not for -just- friend.” She countered, snatching the pendant from his hand. “Is special, for special.”

“Sh-she is sp-spec-ial.” Reznik pushed out, almost without his input. As if the words came of their own volition. 

“Mmmn, so -is- friend, seek more? Mmh-hm, yes. Yes thats okay - for you then? Three silver shinies! Only three, today only!” 

Reznik assumed that meant silver coins, and instinctively felt around his waist. 

On their trip back from fighting the necromancer, Zarah reasoned that he might actually have need of his own money on rare occasions, and had given him a small pouch with a handful of coppers and four silver coins for emergencies. 

This… wasn’t an emergency, not by any means. 

However, Reznik felt that Luminita would appreciate it, much in the same way he genuinely appreciated her cooking, and all the time she’d spent reading him stories. 

A little bit of appreciation like this would go a long way, I think. 

Given how much she gets on with birds, something like this will fit her perfectly. 

And besides, it’s really pretty, and so is she. 

Reznik fidgeted with the clasp on the pouch for a moment, his thick leather gloves not helping with his lack of dexterity. He managed to get it open, and pulled out a myriad of coins, using his other hand to fish out the silver ones before placing them on the table. 

With a smile, the woman placed the necklace in his hand, and closed his fingers around it. 

“She will like, yes yes.” The crone nodded before shooing him away. “Now go, you have places to be, woman to woo.” 

Reznik nodded thankfully, and spun to find Botezatu watching him with an odd, bemused expression. 

Reznik fell in beside him and they continued their walk down the street. 

“Find something interesting?” Botezatu asked with an amused bent to his voice.

“Y-es.” Reznik nodded, holding up his hand and opening his palm just enough for the man to see what he held.

Botezatu leaned over and viewed the item before he snorted, which turned into a chuckle. 

“Ah. I was wondering what you were talking with her about. She always has odd things at her stall - I think she’s a wilder, who comes in from the mountains whenever theres a big market. 

“That’s for Luminita, I assume?” 

Reznik nodded.

“Interesting.” Botezatu’s one-word reply held an air of finality and judgment to it, like he just got an answer to a long-held question, and wasn’t sure how he felt. 

The rest of the walk was silent. 

Revenant's Resolve Chapter 28

Death or forfeit. 

Those were the only ways out of the this tournament.

Botezatu had explained that this was why there was a decidedly somber tone in the air to this tournament, as opposed to what Reznik had been told was usually a fairly lively event.

Even still, as Reznik stood on the muddy, open field between two sets of hastily constructed stands, he could feel the excitement of the many occupants of the stands. This included the non-noble class that had decided to attend, chattering exuberantly with one another from the ground level. 

From the noble families, there were ninety-six entries into the tournament. 

Six of them stood across the field from him in yellow tabbards, while five more stood in green ones to either side of him. 

His first fight was a team one. A team bout that served more to weed out the weak early in the tournament than anything else. 

Surveying his opponents, he wasn’t too worried about his chances. Most of them looked fairly average to his estimation, no more special than the soldiers from Bessarba he’d killed and eaten. 

Armed, to be sure. Dangerous, most likely would be for many. 

There was a gnawing feeling at the back of his mind that some of his opponents would be just like him - trying to use a win in the tournament and against the Bessarban Czhan to help someone they cared about.

In the grand scheme of things, the people across from him would likely be friends, or at least allies most of the time. Provided they didn’t know what he was, of course.

Reznik pushed the noise out of his mind with a small shake of his head. 

He was here to rescue Zarah. That was it. 

Keep fighting until she’s back home and safe. 

Give people a chance to surrender and forfeit, but don’t give anyone an opening. 

Reznik sized up the ocher-skinned man that faced him directly as they waited for the start of the fight. He wore thick leather armor, and fought with a dinner plate-sized shield and short spear. 

If the man didn’t have any surprise tricks like magic, Reznik thought he had a great idea for how to deal with him. 

Reznik would simply impale himself on the mans spear, get close, and repeatedly bring his opponent’s face in contact with the ground. 

It seemed like a great option. 

Simple holes weren’t that big of a deal, after all. It was when limbs got removed that Reznik would likely encounter problems. 

“Fighters! Begin!” shouted a thunderous voice, cutting through the soft din of the crowd like blade through flesh. 

Huh.

Weird. 

I thought there would be more to it than that… some big fancy words or something.

Reznik’s opponents started to cross the distance. Some sprinted for their fight, others walked. 

Unfortunately, Reznik’s rust-skinned friend was one of the latter.

The man seemed almost giddy at the prospect of fighting Reznik, likely because Reznik didn’t actually bring a weapon. 

Nor was he dressed in flowing robes like the Mages he’d seen. 

The man was likely smiling as he charged because he thought Reznik was just some cannon fodder entered into the tournament by a poor family, as he’d heard gossip of from the stands.

Several meters away, the man leapt for Reznik - arcing his spear back before he brought it down at Reznik’s head. 

Reznik simply tilted his head to the side and let the spear pierce into where his neck met his shoulder. 

Then, he grabbed the haft of the spear. 

When the man landed and got his footing, he tried to yank it back.

Neither the spear nor Reznik budged. 

“Shit.” The former spearman lamented, springing back and releasing the spear right before Reznik ripped down and to the side, freeing the spear. 

Now, he had a weapon. 

Reznik was about to toss it to the side when an idea struck him. 

Pointy things can be thrown. 

He adjusted his grip as the man with the tiny shield circled him from a short distance, seeming to be calculating how he could reacquire his spear. 

Then Reznik hurled it at the man, hoping to skewer his chest. He didn’t, instead missing by almost two feet and piercing the man’s thigh. 

Then it continued its downward angle and buried the entire point of the weapon into the ground. 

“Fuck! Aw! Gods!” the pinned man screamed as Reznik rushed him. “No, nonono, wait I fo-“ 

Reznik reached him just in time to not be able to stop what he was about to do, leaping into the man at full force. 

When they both landed, the spear lodged in his opponent’s leg made a sickening tearing sound. Then, Reznik’s armored knee slammed into his enemy’s chest, crunching something there.

Hold on.

Stop!

I think he was trying to surrender!

Reznik pushed at his body to stop what it was doing, stand up, and find someone else to clobber. 

Even if the man wasn’t about to forefit, Reznik could still tell that he’d had enough. He smelled blood. Lots of it. 

There was a ringing ping that shook Reznik’s world from behind as he rose to his feet. Something had glanced off his helmet, and it turned out that something was an axe. 

With a confused frown, Reznik spun around, trying to figure out who had thrown it. It was a woman in yellow. 

Then, before Reznik really had a moment to process how he wanted to go about attacking her, she was ran through by a man with with a sword, and taken screaming all the way to the ground. 

Then her head was removed swiftly after the green-clad man pulled his sword from her gut.

Well.

Thank you friend! 

In the end, Reznik came out on the winning team, along with two others from his cohort. One of his team was dead, three were for the other group, and the remainder had all forfeit their place in the tournament.

As it happened, Reznik’s fight had been one of the more one-sided and bloodless fights of the day. 

Many others had come out with three or less survivors, and no one forfeiting.

“You know. I find it telling that the Queen would hold a tournament like this right now.” Botezatu grunted, having approached Reznik from behind without being noticed. Reznik’s head whipped around to look at the grizzled man, who simply smiled and stared up at the backside of the tournament grounds like Reznik had been. “It’s how the King used to hand out the smaller titles. 

“Knighthoods, and if you really impressed him, sometimes Baronies from his new conquests. I was barely twenty when I stepped into the ring.” Botezatu explained with a heavy exhale that turned into a chuckle. “Stepped in as a commoner, walked out as a knight with a posting in his newly-formed Riverguard. I wonder if she intends to do the same.” 

The idea of himself being made a knight by the next time he saw Zarah was amusing, but he reasoned that out of all the possibilities, it was unlikely to happen.

More than likely, his best possible outcome was just winning, and coming out with himself, Zarah, and everyone else unscathed. 

That was much more reasonable after all. 

“Iihh j-jusss-t… w-wan-t Z-Zaah-rah s-s-safe.” Reznik countered after Realizing that Botezatu was waiting for him to reply with a curious look. 

“Mmn. I’m sure you do. And the good news is, you have three duels between yourself, and that possibility. First one is tomorrow, an hour after sunrise.” Botezatu grunted, whipping a piece of paper up in front of Reznik with a hand-drawn set of brackets for his upcoming fights. “I ever tell you how her and I met?”

Reznik briefly glanced over the sheet of brackets before plucking it carefully from Botezatu’s hand. Then, he shook his head at the man’s question. 

“Her and her company of Prussanian mercenaries were hired by the King to aid in clearing the undead lands once we’d secured the border up to the river. They ended up becoming the foundation for the inquisition. 

“A collection of a hundred-and-fifty occultists, clerics, telepaths, necromancers, and paladins. The thought was at the time, that the undead lands were cursed, and that the curse could be unraveled, somehow.” Botezatu snorted, slowly shaking his head. “We had just pushed the undead back across the river then, and were barely holding the line…”

Reznik tuned the man out as he read the paper in his hand. Realistically, whether he listened or not didn’t matter. Botezatu would tell his long-winded story, and hold a conversation by his lonesome all on his own. 

It wasn’t as if Reznik had much he could reply with. Long words were still a stretch farther than he was comfortable with. 

His next fight however, was something he was comfortable with. 

A man named Velyonis Aaloyic. 

The name didn’t ring any bells for Reznik, but he reasoned that he likely would be a similar caliber to those who survived his team skirmish. 

Dangerous, but only if Reznik didn’t actually put any effort in. 

Looking up from the page, Reznik found Botezatu was still talking. 

“-She popped the Revenant’s skull like a grape. From then on, I’ve been indebted time and again to her for saving my life. So I think its only fair that I start chopping away at that mountain of life debt.” Reznik realized he’d tuned in at just the right moment - right before Botezatu was about to finish. “So believe me when I say, ensuring Zarah’s safety is as important to me as you.” 

Well, that’s good to know. 

Initially, Reznik questioned why Botezatu wasn’t fighting himself in that case, but then realized that it probably had more to do with Reznik’s own victory over him, and his rather advanced age than desire. 

He dropped the initial accusatory thought, realistically thankful that Botezatu wouldn’t be fighting him again - he imagined that with time, Botezatu would’ve thought of a more efficient way to dispatch him. 

Instead, he held out the page to Botezatu, and pointed at Velyonis’ name. 

“Wh-who?” Reznik asked, putting in extra effort to quirk a brow questioningly. 

“Oh, him.” Botezatu acknowledged after squinting down at the sheet. “He’s a personal sponsor of Lord-Commander Tarron, and is usually selected by him for any tournament that’s held. From what I hear, he fights with a trident, so as long as you get in his personal space and stay there, you shouldn’t have too much of an issue.

“Still, he’s here for a reason, and if Tarron selected him personally, it means he likely has a trick or three up his sleeves. Be careful.” 

  *

Reznik felt a pang of disappointment as he was lead out into the wide tournament dueling grounds. There were many people in the stands and on the ground surrounding the short fence around the arena. 

But Luminita wasn’t among them. 

He wasn’t entirely sure why her absence from his fights bothered him, but he was consciously aware that it did. Friends were supposed to support friends - or at least he thought so. 

As he had that thought, another entered his brain. 

Perhaps Luminita was simply deciding to use her time and effort to reward his actions today in a different way. 

Her mother and her were both excellent cooks, and it was her mother that had monopolized Luminita’s attention that morning 

Maybe that was why they’d stayed behind to -talk- instead of coming with himself and Botezatu to the tournament. 

He shook the thoughts off like a wet dog, working to pull his mind back to the matter at hand - which currently was the flamboyant trident-wielding man across from him. 

A man that apparently had quite a following, as a number of people in the stands had their faces painted with the colors of his tunic and leather armor. Reznik wasn’t an expert by any means, but he reasoned that Velyonis would likely be relying on speed. 

Certainly not muscle, given his skinny, beanstalk-like frame. 

If Reznik did get in close enough, he imagined he would likely be able to pick the man up and hurl him over the crowd. 

Velyonis extricated himself from the throng of hangers-on and made his way to the center of the dirt arena, watching Reznik with a broad, toothy smile. 

“It’s always a fun experience when they bring fresh meat to the tournaments!” he proclaimed almost as a greeting to Reznik. “Let me guess. You were always the strongest and fastest in whatever no-name frontier village you came from, and thought you could hack it in the big leagues, eh?” 

The man’s smile turned mocking and hostile as he slammed the base of his trident against the dirt, igniting tongues of electricity that arced between the razor-sharp points.

“So you spent all your money on a shiny set of armor, and realized that you don’t even have enough left over for a real weapon!” Velyonis rolled his eyes and shook his head before laughing: “Just give up, man. I’m not sure how you convinced that geezer to sponsor your entry, but the only way you’re leaving this arena alive is if you throw in the towel - right here, right now.”

Oh. 

So he’s a prick. 

Reznik wheezed out an exhale, doing his best to sound entirely bored of the mans words. 

In truth though, he was now imagining stuffing the haft of the trident down Velyonis’ throat. 

Velyonis for his part blinked, raising an expectant eyebrow as he seemed to wait for a reply. 

“Fighters, ready?” boomed the duels administrator from a raised tower at the edge of the arena. 

Reznik glanced to the tower pointedly, then nodded once. 

Velyonis threw up a raised thumb over his shoulder, taking a defensive stance with his electric trident. 

There was a long, silent pause where even the wind seemed to still and watch the ring.

“Begin!” 

Reznik sprang forward, hoping to follow through with his plan to simply pick up his opponent and hurl him far outside the ring, but Velyonis was fast. 

Fast to the point where it felt unnatural, blurring as he leapt sideways out of Reznik’s view. 

“Oop, gotta be faster than that!” Velyonis laughed as Reznik laid eyes on him, off to his left in the same defensive stance. “Or the only place you’re going in a hurry is a grave!” 

Reznik tilted his head at Velyonis, simply waiting. 

Velyonis furrowed his brows and pursed his lips as he seemed to consider Reznik for a moment. Then he shrugged, lifted his trident, and hurled it at Reznik. 

The central tip slammed home through a chink in Reznik’s armor just above his knee, sending an odd tingling sensation through his entire body. 

His movements, his thoughts, and even his vision felt like they were all sluggish. 

Oh come on! 

Just grab the trident, and break it in half. Then break him in half!

Reznik tried forcing his body to comply with every ounce of thought he could muster, but his hands only twitched their way slowly toward the haft of the weapon. 

“Just forfeit! You’re out of your depth!” Reznik could hear Velyonis shouting at the edge of his mind. 

As soon as his hand was about to clutch the trident, it launched itself out of his leg and whipped its way back into Velyonis’ waiting hand. 

“Give up, farm boy - next one hits your heart.” Velyonis commanded, a darker tone coloring his voice as he growled: “Last chance.”

Reznik smacked his lips, his tongue tasting dusty and staticy. 

“T-that tic-tic-tickled.” 

Velyonis snorted and shook his head before it turned into a nod. 

“At least you got balls.” Velyonis praised, his cat-that-ate-the-canary grin returning. 

Reznik rolled out his shoulders, finally shaking off the last of the itchy, dusty feeling of electricity. He then abruptly shot forward, hoping to catch Velyonis off guard with the sudden haste of his attack. 

It seemed to work, as Velyonis jumped fractionally upward before springing back and hurled his trident in an entirely reactionary way.

Velyonis managed to elude Reznik’s grasp, but only barely - letting out a small “guh” sound when Reznik’s hand gripped and ripped the fabric on his side. 

As the man continued to spring further out of Reznik’s reach, Reznik realized that the trident had actually hit him, and buried one of its points just beneath his ribs. Realizing that he had an opportunity to force his opponent into surrendering, Reznik stopped chasing the man and grabbed the haft of the weapon. 

He ripped it out with a small screech of metal on metal, and looked back to Velyonis a short distance away. 

He looks nervous. 

I wonder - can I scare him into forfeiting? 

Wouldn’t even have to kill him, then.

“Pret-ty.” Reznik complemented, lifting the trident demonstratively. “Use-l-less-ss.” 

Then, he brought the points down through a gap in his armor at his neck. He ripped the weapon out, then lined it up with the bottom of his chest plate and pushed in. 

If he were human, it likely would have skewered his heart and lungs, killing him instantly. Instead, it just left Reznik with an odd feeling of vertigo and wooziness before he ripped it back out. 

Now, Velyonis looked positively petrified, backing away with wide, fearful eyes and shaking his head. 

Now for the final act.

Reznik took the spear in both hands, and shoved at his body that he wanted to bend the weapon until it shattered. 

To leave Velyonis with simply the haft and points, instead of a functional weapon. 

The metal-reinforced wood creaked, sputtered, and finally shattered in his grasp before a shower of sparks burst free. 

Arcs of electricity swirled around Reznik like a thunderstorm entirely focused on him. 

He blinked. And blinked again. 

Reznik could’ve sworn the lightning sparked into the outline of a person before it returned to chaos, then dissipated. 

“Yield! Yield! I yield - nope, no! Fuck that!” Velyonis shouted, throwing his hands up after scrambling to his feet with a wide-eyed stare. 

Reznik sniffed the air, finding that it oddly smelled like a storm. 

“I forfeit!” Velyonis whipped his head towards the duel’s proctor, clearly expecting something to happen. 

“I- well… It is finished!” the older man proclaimed from his raised seat at the edge of the arena. “Botezatu’s champion, Reznik wins by forfeit!” 

The audience, for the first time in the fight, was silent.

Mud, Blood, and Magic 2 Chapter 4

Ellie awaited him in the second trench, directing a throng of medics and their assistants while Mountainbreaker worked at setting up a detonator box. 

As soon as Sam crossed the boundary of the connecting trench into the secondary line, Ellie nodded to Mountainbreaker, and he connected a wire. 

“Brace yourself.” He warned calmly to those around him before bellowing: “EXPLOSION! EXPLOSION! EXPLOSION!” 

The Dwarven sapper pushed down on the plunger, and Sam turned over his shoulder just in time to see the dirt several hundred yards behind him bulge and lift up like a wave as the entire trench ceased to exist. 

As if triggered sympathetically by Mountainbreaker’s detonation, a wall of dirt began to branch out from either side of the outer trench he’d blown, slowly winding its way around the plains of Gerra like a moat. 

‘I wonder how many Darabadians that blast took with it?’ Sam idly wondered, being more or less forced along by Kara to one of the medics. 

It took several hours, but he and the many other wounded were all ferried back to one of the medical buildings hastily established in Gerra, his wounds were treated, and he was released back into the wild. The entire time, he was also having to talk with Ellie, Amy, and Kara regarding coordination and future plans. 

Supplies were low, but there was a plan for that. 

In a weeks time, General Keyrinnjha would organize a positively massive logistics operation to resupply the Regiment. 

The entire Lenitian front line would press the attack and fix the Darabadians in their current positions as a small army of wyverns airlifted supplies to them, then extract the wounded back to safety. Just to top it all off, more wyverns would be providing air support while the supply units were completing their task. 

The entire operation likely fell under the sphere of “top secret”, or whatever the Lenitian equivalent was. The General was pulling every available air asset from the front, leaving only the ones that were actively engaged with Darabadian wyvern units. 

He believed he could reasonably hold out that long, especially now that the lines were a lot more stable after the retreat to the second set of trenchworks. 

From here at the top of the semi-destroyed keep, the old lines looked like a knotted scar on the earth, no longer having any depth to them. They looked rounded off and rough at this distance. 

Sam heard footsteps coming up the stone steps, turning to see Henfri standing in the doorway with a hard-to-read expression on her face. 

“May I… enter?” she asked in a voice that felt far too small for her. 

“Yeah, sure Henfri - what’s wrong?” Sam accommodated, waving his hand at the pile of building stones beside his creaky chair. 

It worked better as a seat for her than anything else. 

Henfri set Procjze down on its bipod, then sat down herself, hunching forward as she took in a deep inhale through her nose. 

She seemed to take a moment longer to decide what to say, or more likely, how to say it. 

“I am… sorry for my outburst today.” Henfri apologized, still not looking him in the eyes. “I was upset. There were soldiers I knew holding that section of trench. When we got there, they were just… gone.

“Every day, more die - people I share a jezelotz with - a battle-bond.” Henfri hung her head, clenching her fists tight. “You send me to every section of the line when you find a fearsome enemy Mage. I wait for hours, days in the dirt beside these men, kill the spell-caster, and return to you. 

“In doing that, I make friends in every crater, every bend of these trenches.” 

Henfri scratched at the back of her head and growled. 

“Where is there glory, what meaning does bravery have if the men I save get ground to paste as soon as I leave?” 

Sam’s breath caught as he considered how to answer her. 

This was by far the most serious he’d ever seen Henfri, and her words felt weighted with an uncharacteristic wisdom that was almost counter-intuitive to the bubbly, exuberant Drake-Kin he knew. 

In truth, there wasn’t a good reply. 

Sam was dealing with a remarkably similar weight bearing down on his own shoulders. All those men Henfri was talking about were dying on his orders. 

Things were simpler when he was just a sergeant on his homeworld. 

“My mother once told me that war was not a good place to find glory, honor, or friendship - that it was only a haven for those who sought power.” Henfri continued as Sam tried to put together his own thoughts and experiences into something she could connect to. “I did not believe her. When Darabad killed my cousin at his schoolhouse in Sulesti, I sought vengeance. 

“I ran to the recruiting office on the border of Lenit, seeking to right that slight against my family.” Henfri’s jaw muscles flexed as her eyes finally lifted to the vista of death and destruction out the destroyed wall of the tower. “Instead, I have only ended up losing even more. But I have found you, found Ellie and the others - a family I wish to call my own, and I fear every day that loss. 

“Am I really of such little morals that I care less for my men than you? Am I… selfish?” 

Henfri turned to Sam with a confused and hurt expression, her right eye searching his face. 

Her left was an empty socket. 

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t dealing with something similar, Henfri,” Sam offered after a long moment of eye contact. He looked back out to the view beyond the tower, and pulled out his revolver. “When Darabad first encircled us, we took a lot of losses. We would lose a trench, a squad here, a platoon there. 

“I thought I could fix it, reshuffle the deck and save them. So, I’d hear the news, put this to my skull, and pull the trigger.

“I must’ve done it a thousand times.” 

Sam snorted derisively and shook his head. Running his tongue along his teeth, he finally put the next pieces of his thoughts together in a more suitable way. 

“For you, it’s been two or three weeks since we left the pass.

“For me, it’s been months. 

“Months of fail, die, fail, die, fail, die - mostly by my own hand.” 

Sam popped open the top of the revolver and extricated a round, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. 

“I swear, this gun has killed me far more than any of them.” Sam stuffed the bullet back into the weapon, closed it, and re-holstered it. “After the umpteenth time, I realized something. 

“I’ve been approaching this fight like it was my old world. Like I was still training resistance fighters in the desert, fighting a weak force of insurgents or an apathetic third-world government. 

“This war is different than the one I was trained to fight - there’s no medivac helicopter coming to save me, no air superiority, just the meat-grinder of humanity. It’s far closer to wars that were fought almost a century before I was born than the ones I was a part of.”

Henfri’s expression had changed by the time he looked back to her. Instead of confusion, there was understanding in her slow nod. 

“There’s an ugly math to this kind of fight. The men here are soldiers, and soldiers realize that we might die. It’s just the nature of the job. If Senire is right about the future, then every Darabadian we kill, the longer we stall them, the less they can do later. 

“Hell, we fight them hard enough here, we might be able to prevent another Sulesti.”

Henfri’s forehead furrowed when he said the name, the faintest hint of anger visible there. 

“I’ve heard a lot about what happened to the people that lived there. It was genocide.” Sam explained, rising from his seat and walking towards the blown-out hole. “Trading a regiment to stop another city being burned to the ground, hundreds of thousands of civilians killed? 

“Yeah, I’ll take that deal.”

Henfri leaned back in her seat and raised her chin at him, a curious brow raised. 

"Will the lives of these men be worth it?” 

“God I hope so.” The words left Sam’s mouth before he could put together a better answer. With a sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose and added: “that was the… hardest realization of the last few months of dying and trying again. 

“That I can’t even save my own men. I might be able to save them for a day or two, postpone an attack, position a gun in the right place, but eventually, it’s just going to turn out the same way.

“The only thing I can do in the end is make sure I spend their lives wisely.” 

Henfri’s expression steeled, but after a moment she nodded deeply. 

“My mother has said very much the same.” Henfri noted, pushing herself off the pile of debris she used as a chair to walk towards him. She leaned against the wall on the opposite side of the gap from him and exhaled deeply. “I simply wish there was a way to get back at them. To take the fight off the shoulders of our men.” 

Sam smiled wryly as he met Henfri’s good eye, an idea coming to mind that would do just that.

“You know, Henfri, if you’ve got a minute - I just might have something.” 

  *

“Corporal, open it up.” Sam instructed to the armory door guard with a nod as he led Henfri down the last steps to the basement. 

The man complied, snapping to attention before inserting a key into the lock of a solid metal door and pulling it open. 

“I have… been to the armory before, Sam.” Henfri informed in an intrigued but nonetheless confused tone. 

“Yeah, but I’ve been putting together something I think would fit your skillset really well.” Sam answered, leading Henfri to the back of the long, hallway-like room. 

“Ah, Cap’n Volkjel, that ya oot there?” the thickly-accented voice of the unofficial regimental armorer echoed through the thickly packed weapon racks. 

“It is, Ironleg! Did you get that project finished yet?” Sam called back, steering himself between the helter-skelter organization of Kerajim Ironleg.

Kerajim Ironleg was something of an oddity in Gerra. 

He wasn’t military, in any way, shape, or form. 

From what Sam had gathered in their talks, Ironleg was a weaponsmith that had lived in Gerra his whole life, not to mention his family, who had apparently also inhabited the area for generations. During the final evacuations, the man had forced his whole family to leave, but had chosen to remain himself. 

Ironleg was old, with Kara explaining that he was likely well into the early triple digits. This was the crux of why he had not left yet - he’d already had his children, and them their children. 

Gerra was Ironleg’s home, and he would not leave it in its hour of need. 

For Sam, it was a good thing too, as the man had immediately set to work with a plethora of tasks for the Regiment, including modifying rifles for the more slightly-built races under Sam’s command, repairing damaged equipment, and the reason Sam was here today:

“Special Projects.”

“Oh aye! An’ she’s a beaut’!” Ironleg guffawed as Sam turned the corner to see a series of interconnected workbenches covered in orderly rows of freshly-cared for weapons. The man himself sat in his wheelchair, poking at something on a rifle with a red-hot metal dowel. 

Ironleg looked up with a bright smile beneath his bushy white handlebar mustache. 

“Ah, tha’ project, hmm? Oh it’s ready, a’ight.” Ironleg gripped the wheels of his chair and threw them in opposite directions, whirling around wildly to a shelf behind him. “I refined the contraption a bit since we last talked, ended up usin’ a Darabadian scope instead of one of ours, as it had more magnification. 

“You’ll ‘ave to go’n sight ‘er in, but this should make that lass beside ya’ even more terrifying than she already is…” 

Leaning over, the ancient Dwarf handed Sam an odd, hinged contraption with a scope attached to the top. 

“Henfri, your rifle?” Sam asked, pointing to a small patch that was cleared off on one of the workbenches. “Did you manage to figure out the magazines, Ironleg?”

“Mmmn, those were a… bit more complex to figure out, but yes. Right now, I’ve only four of ‘em.” 

“More than enough.” Sam nodded affirmatively to the man as he pulled a wooden box off the shelf that rattled as it moved. 

Henfri set her weapon down with a thud on the spot, looking to Sam with a curious brow raised. 

Sam set everything down beside the rifle, and chuckled. 

“Oh yeah, this is gonna work out just fine.” 

Then, he got to work. 

After racking the bolt to make sure the rifle was clear, he pressed down on a small metal tab, releasing the box of ammo on the side of the rifle. Then, he slotted the odd contraption Ironleg had made into it, wrapping the hinged piece of metal around to the other side and closing a robust clasp. 

It felt loose, so he undid the clasp, tightened a bolt several turns, and secured it again with far more effort. 

“Ehrr, there we go,” he groaned, straining with the torque required to close it. “Now, for the final touch.”

Sam pulled out several rounds of the magic-penetrating rounds from the ammo box, and began to load them into one of the magazines from the box. 

Apparently, they were slightly-redesigned magazines from a heavy repeating cannon that used the same ammunition type as Henfri’s rifle. Each held seven of the beer-bottle sized rounds. 

Grinning proudly, he rocked it into place on the side of Procjze, and racked the bolt, hearing the satisfying tactile report of a round chambering, then being cast out the other side of the weapon. 

“What is this?” Henfri inquired in an enthusiastic tone. “What have you made for me, Captain?” 

“Honestly, it’s not just for you, Henfri - but you do get to try out the prototype.” Sam answered, stepping back from the weapon and indicating for Henfri to inspect it. “We have a dozen or so AMR gunners left in the Regiment, and from what I’ve seen, their effective range isn’t hindered so much by the round or the weapon itself, but mainly by the lack of magnification. 

“I think this fixes the problem. It seems obvious to me, so I can’t really figure out why no one has tried it before, but - eh we’ll see what happens.”

Henfri ran her hand down from the barrel of the weapon, to the new attachment, and then the buttstock. Snatching it up, she ran the action once, then twice, launching shells out the side that clattered noisily on the workbench. 

“With this… I may be able to surpass even Sergeant Noiesjel.” Henfri murmured with awe in her voice. Then, she racked the bolt once more, removed the magazine, and set the weapon back on the workbench. “I am curious though, why me? I imagine you have… plans, giving me a gift such as this.” 

“I do.” Sam noted with a nod. “But we’ll talk more about that in a bit. Mr. Ironleg, do you have anything else for me?” 

“Heh,” the old man chuckled when Sam turned to him, displaying a broad smirk. “Oh you bet your finest copper I do, lad.

“I haven’ been able to get ‘em up to snuff for your rifle yet, but for a pistol I’ve managed it.” 

The man picked up two handguns next, both of them equipped with massive suppressors. 

Sam chuckled as he accepted the weapons, passing one to Henfri. She cocked her head at it, but took it nontheless. 

“You’re a gift to Lenit, Mr. Ironleg.” Sam thanked the man, before herding Henfri out of the room - still staring at her weapons.

Henfri was silent as they walked through the streets of Gerra, the rumbling sounds of distant battle echoing between the claustrophobic buildings in a haunting way. Eventually, he brought her to the regimental shooting range, which was really just a long, straight avenue that backed up against one of the walls that they’d sectioned off. 

Often, it was empty now, with all the men who would be training on it either frantically resting, or on the line. 

Turning this way and that, he made sure the coast was clear, then racked the action of the pistol Ironleg had given him. He aimed it down to the targets, and fired. 

It wasn’t exactly quiet, but it was a far sight better than a bare muzzle. 

With a smirk, he turned to Henfri and pointed his finger down at the sandbag line. 

“Go ahead, let’s get her zeroed.” 

“There is no one here now.” Henfri noted, setting the rifle down at the line, but not getting behind it. Instead, she turned to face Sam. “What are you thinking? There is something on your mind, and I wish to hear it.”

“I’ve been thinking, the times I’ve come out on top in this world is when I don’t  play into other people’s expectations. Frankly, the command staff have the strategy for holding the city well in hand, and my skills would be better served somewhere else.” 

Henfri crossed her arms under her chest and seemed to wait for him to continue. 

“Instead of waiting for them to come to us, I want to fuck with them. Your rifle is part of that. We’re gonna be sneaking behind their lines in small teams, hunting their officers, poising their food, gathering intelligence.” Sam explained before he remembered a description that Henfri had used previously. “The end goal is for us to be spies that fight like shock troops.” 

That got Henfri’s attention. 

A malicious smile spread across her face as she cracked her neck this way and that. 

“This… mmmmn, this brings me joy.” 

Mud, Blood, and Magic 2 Chapter 3

Sam kept low on the crest of the trench, peering out over just enough to see the sights of his rifle. 

To his right was Henfri, and her booming rifle several yards away. 

To his left was a crater. 

Sam rested his head against the ground and took a moment to compose himself before opening his eyes again. 

Upon opening them, he noticed that the small hill he rested his rifle on was not, in fact, a mud covered log, but the barrel of a water-cooled machine gun coated liberally in dirt. 

‘I wonder…’ Sam thought, briefly setting his rifle aside to brush off the debris from the weapon. 

There was a chance, however small, that it might still be operable, even if its crew wasn’t. 

With a tug, the MG came out of the ground with a slurping sound, taking its belt of ammo with it. 

“Oh, this is gonna jam like a motherfucker.” Sam lamented, seeing that his prize seemed to be in good working order, if you discounted its newfound paint job. 

Hastily cleaning off the outside of the weapon, then its belt of ammunition, Sam wondered where its tripod had gone. It had no stock or bipod, just a butterfly trigger on the back, leaving him to figure out how to deploy it properly.

‘I’m gonna need more ammo too. I wonder if there’s any nearby.’

Searching the trench, Sam found what was left of the crew in the sump, but also found several wooden cartons of ammunition shattered with their belts partially spilling out - resembling their crew in a macabre way. 

Dropping off the step, Sam grabbed one of the boxes and hefted it up beside the machine gun, ready for him to use when he finished off the belt that was currently in the weapon. 

The enemy neared, and he was out of time to prepare. 

He gripped it by the handles, lined up the sights on a group of enemy soldiers charging the line, and squeezed, the recoil of the weapon slowly rattling him backwards as his hands began to feel numb. 

Letting off the trigger after he cut down several Darabadians, he set about looking for collections of the enemy. 

Squads grouped together, men taking cover in a crater, anything that a large volume of rounds would be better suited for than his men’s bolt-action rifles. 

As it turned out, he had been wrong about the weapon jamming - even after what was left of the mud-soaked belt, it ran like a sewing machine, simply grinding through round after round as it did its job.

When it ran dry, Sam briefly paused to figure out how the gun actually worked, beyond the semi-familiar trigger mechanism, trying to figure out how to open the top cover. 

After a moment, he twisted a toggle on the top and it simply popped up at him. Grinning proudly, Sam ripped it all the way up, pushed the remainder of the cloth belt off the feed tray, and rested a new one atop it before gingerly pushing the cover closed and twisting the knob back. 

Sighting back in, Sam lined up the next group of people, only for them to scatter as an explosion went off in their midst that was preluded by the boom of Henfri’s rifle. 

Smirking, Sam squeezed the trigger and proceeded to mow down the two closest of the enemy squad with a long burst of automatic fire. 

So he held his section of the line for the next ten minutes - emptying the box of ammunition for the belt fed, forcing him to return to his toggle-action rifle. The numbers of Darabadian infantry charging his trench had fallen drastically, now only a trickle of those who remained popping out of craters to fire one or two rounds before ducking back down.

Many times, it was just enough time for him to send a singular round through their chest or head. 

Many times, he simply had to wait for them to re-emerge from cover to send a shot at them.

A man popped up out of a still-smoldering crater from a fire spell for a split second, hucking what looked like a stick in Sam’s general direction. Sam tried to line up the shot, but the Darabadian ducked behind cover a second too soon. 

Worse still, the “stick” landed several yards away from Sam, just outside the trench. 

As his heart raced and his body felt entirely too sluggish, Sam pushed back off the embankment at the top of the trench and tried with all his might to fling himself into the bottom of the trench, lest the grenade do it for him. 

The shockwave came all too soon, sending him into an inky blackness that felt as if it lasted forever in an instant. 

His eyes felt heavy.

Opening them, he saw nothing but darkness. 

Then, his helmet was ripped off his face, and he found himself staring into the blurry face of Henfri. 

“Sam! Sam! Can you hear me?” Henfri panicked, shaking him by the shoulders. “Get up! We need to leave! They just sent another wave!” 

“I… fuck… fuck, okay. Goddammit.” Sam groaned, trying to push himself up to his feet, before he was literally picked up fireman-carry by Henfri. 

“Kara! Can you hold for one minute? I will get him to the rear, then cover your retreat!” Henfri demanded, adjusting Sam’s torso on her shoulder and rising to her feet. 

Forcing his neck to cooperate, Sam lifted his head up and turned to see Kara running toward them through the trench, coated liberally in blood. 

She spat a wad of something onto the ground, brushed off her nose with her wrist, and nodded. 

“Aye. Get him out of here.” Kara grimaced, snapping her fingers and sparking to life a spike of fire in her right hand. “I’ll keep the line just long enough for you and the others to move to the next trench.”

“Wait…” Sam wheezed as Henfri merely nodded, turned, and ran to a T in the trench, and turned back for the city. “Just… let me die. I can do it again.” 

“You will learn more the longer you are awake, yes?” Henfri demanded through heavy breaths, waiting for Sam’s reply that didn’t come. “Then wait a time longer, Sam.”

She was right. 

Sam knew it, but struggled with the instinct to free himself from Henfri’s back and run for Kara. Provide a tiny bit of overwatch for her. 

Even if all it would to is suppress the enemy long enough for Kara to cook up more spells. 

“Here. We set here.” Henfri informed, carefully dumping Sam off her back less than a minute later. “We shall cover her. The second line is just behind us, I believe.” 

Henfri rested Sam gingerly against the wall of the trench, patting his aching shoulder before unslinging Procjze from her back. Not that his aches were anything unusual, his entire body felt like one big bruise at the moment. 

Turning his head in the direction they’d come, Sam found he could indeed see down the long, snaking trench to the first line of defense - just barely. 

“KARA! TO US!” Henfri bellowed over the din of gunfire. 

Sam heard no reply. 

‘Come on, Kara…’ Sam hoped inside his thoughts. ‘You can do it. Just turn and run. Block off the trench and make sure no one follo-‘

Sam saw her. 

Half-running, half-limping through the trench, Kara ran for them, occasionally hurling a ball of fire, or a boulder over her shoulder. 

“Go! I’ll block it off!” Kara shouted through deep lungfuls of air, waving a hand to pressure Henfri and Sam to keep going. 

‘Well, that’s good at least.’ Sam thought, pushing himself to his feet from where he leaned. ‘Now we can wait and see what they do for the rest of the day. Then I can resta- oh fuck!’

Sam caught the moment when a stocky member of the Darabadians turned around the corner with a long, heavy-looking rifle, lined up Kara, and pulled the trigger. 

Kara’s chest disappeared a blink later, vaporized into nothing even as she tried to raise a barrier of fire behind her. 

‘Nope.’ 

Sam wrenched the revolver from its holster as Henfri raised her own AMR and pulled the trigger, returning the greeting in kind to the enemy soldier. 

He then put the pistol to his head, exhaled a breath, and pulled the trigger, lamenting the fact that he would have to do the day over again.

  *

His eyes felt heavy.

Opening them, he saw nothing but darkness. 

Then, his helmet was ripped off his face, and he found himself staring into the blurry face of Henfri. 

“Sam! Sam can you hear me?” Henfri panicked, shaking him by the shoulders as he tried to put together what just happened. “Get up! We need to leave! They just sent another wave!” 

Then it clicked. 

He’d been knocked out by the grenade’s blast, however briefly. 

‘Fuck!’ 

“Henfri… wait. Get Kara.” Sam hoarsed, shakily pushing himself to his feet. 

Or at least, trying to. 

All his efforts resulted in was him slipping painfully back into place against the wall of the trench as his hands lost their purchase. 

“Come, nest-mate. It is time for us to leave - this trench will be lost until reinforcements arrive.” Henfri explained with a deep exhale as she tried to pick Sam up under his armpits. 

“Hen! Wait! This is an -argh- Reset point.” Sam practically screamed through gritted teeth, noticing the jagged piece of metal lodged in his left shoulder. “Kara got vaporized by a Darabadian with an AMR last time.”

Shakily, Sam reached up to his left shoulder and ripped the long, thin piece of barbed wire remnants out before throwing it on the dirt several feet away. 

“Choizina!” Henfri spat under her breath, glancing quickly to the side and then back to Sam. “Can you walk? Fire your weapon?” 

Sam experimentally rolled one leg, and then the other. After a moment, he nodded.

“Yeah, slowly.” 

“Very well. Kara and myself will hold this section of the trench for another three minutes, at most.” Henfri explained, pulling Sam up to his feet carefully, before leaning him against the wall of the trench. “You will get to safety.”

Sam nodded, turning and walking along the inside edge of the trench wall before he was pulled forcibly into Henfri’s chest, where she began to violently rumble. 

It lasted a touch longer than would be considered appropriate for a goodbye hug, but as she pulled back, something in her eyes told him the gesture held far more meaning to her than a simple hug. 

A thunderous crack from beside them snapped Sam out of Henfri’s locked gaze, and he caught Kara pulling another pebble from the ground with her thoughts, before launching it out with another supersonic pop. 

His movements were slow, unsteady as he stumbled through the trench, and around the corner into the connecting trench that led back to Gerra. 

‘Where are you, Ellie? Shit just went somehow even more sideways over here, and I’m locked into a shit loop right now.’ Sam demanded in his head, hoping that the two could stall long enough for the reinforcements to arrive. 

‘We’ve reached the innermost trench, just beyond the Blackstreet.’ Ellie replied clearly, casting a mental image of the trench she ran through before it transitioned to the men behind her. 

From Sam’s best estimate, it was closer to two or three squads, rather than his hope of a company or more. 

‘Ellie, I don’t think we’re gonna be able to hold long enough for you to get here. I also don’t think that’s enough to retake and hold the outer trench.’ Sam stopped and turned around just behind a bend in the connecting trench to peer around and see where he’d come from. ‘Get the order to Amy - scuttle the outer trenches, collapse in and add extra fortifications to the secondary line. 

‘We need to condense our firepower if we want to have any chance at taking a real chunk out of them.’

‘I’ll let her know.’ Ellie acknowledged telepathically. ‘I’ll also tell the reinforcements to hold at the second line, and cover your retreat.’

‘You always know just what to say to make me happy!’ Sam shot back as he reached for the satchel at his side, stopping in his tracks as Kara tried to drag him along. 

From it, he withdrew a small, break action pistol, and loaded a yellow-striped round into the action before pointing it up and firing. 

Quickly, he flicked the action back open and stuffed an orange flare into it, repeating the process. 

‘Yellow, then orange for an orderly retreat.’ 

“We’re retreating, then?” Kara queried, raising a brow. “We’re not even going to try and retake the trench?” 

“No.” Sam answered with a small shake of his head, leaning against the wall of the connecting trench as he stuffed the flare gun into the satchel. “No point. We don’t have the manpower.” 

Sam grit his teeth as he heard the boom of a powerful rifle behind him, hoping it was Henfri’s. 

Slowly, with Kara’s help, he hobbled deeper into the trench before stopping again, much to Kara’s dismay. 

“Wait,” he struggled against the Dwarf’s attempts to get him further away from the line. “We wait here for Henfri. When she catches up a bit more, then we get moving again.

“I’m not leaving her behind.” 

He waited for a lull in the gunfire, ripping the revolver from its holster and grabbing a board at the edge of the trench, pulling himself up just enough to peer over.

Sam saw the second wave crossing no mans land and exhaled a ragged breath. 

The first wave was barely a probing force by comparison. 

When the lull came, he inhaled deeply before bellowing:

“HENFRI! FALL BACK!”

Then, he blew a whistle around his neck, hoping at least one of the calls would make it through the howling firefight. 

He leaned the revolver into a gap in the mud, and waited, mentally zooming in the sights as he waited for that fucker with the AMR. 

The stocky man came up over a short mound, stopped, and aimed towards Sam, but not at him - likely at Henfri. 

Sam exhaled and pulled the trigger - the round ripping a basketball sized chunk out of the Darabadian’s chest as it sent him flopping back ass over teakettle. 

Sam heard her before he saw her, thudding footsteps approaching across the wooden boards at the base of the trench. 

Henfri rounded the corner looking to Sam and Kara confusedly after sliding to a stop. 

“Why have you not gone further? They are right behind me!” 

“Not leaving you-“ Sam cut off as a blast of magical artillery shot muck and stone over the side of the trench, pelting his helmet and shoulders. “-Behind.” 

Henfri sighed, shaking her head before glancing back over her shoulder. 

“Continue deeper - I will hold this bend for sixty seconds, then retreat to you.” She instructed, looking back to him as she drew the pistol that had once been his from its holster. 

Henfri leaned her AMR up against the side wall and nodded her head in the direction Sam was supposed to go.

Sam nodded, wishing his restarting worked more on-demand than simply when he slept - like a save-state from a videogame. 

He dropped down, grunting as the fall of less than a foot hurt his right hip. In fact, his entire body felt like a bag of broken glass right about now.

Sam hobbled deeper down the straight trench, slowly but surely until another round of that magical artillery slammed home behind him, the blast knocking him to his knees and pelting him with earthen shrapnel. 

“Fuck.” Sam groaned, spinning around onto his rear and hoping that Henfri hadn’t just been vaporized by the explosion. 

Instead, as the billowing smoke cleared, he saw her holding her forehead and stumbling into the wall of the trench. She looked up to Sam briefly, revealing that there was a large cut over her left eye that spilled blood down her face and neck. 

An odd pinging noise sounded, and sparks danced on Henfri’s right shoulder, her stumbling coming to a slow halt as the world greyscaled. 

The sounds of gunfire stilled. 

Falling debris stopped where it fell in the air. 

Sam waited, not sure what he’d see. Not sure who he’d see. 

On the left side of the trench stood the Princess, staring down with a sad frown at Henfri, not saying or doing anything immediately. 

On the other side materialized a mountain of a woman, even by Draconic standards, scales of a vibrant vantic black that absorbed the light around her and glossy blood red. 

“Why do you insist on blocking my bond with her, child?” the black and red Dragon questioned into the still wartime air. “On blocking my power from manifesting?” 

“I will not have you try and corrupt her as you wished to do to me, mother.” The Princess answered, not looking up from Henfri. “As you succeeded with my sisters.”

“You deny her her birthright - the last gift I can provide my womb-fruit purely to spite me for centuries-old power struggles?” the Queen scoffed, looking down to Henfri, then back up to the Princess. “You know as well as I that she will not live through this without it - the threads of her fate are spun and woven without my aid. 

“You wish for her and her chosen to live? Then so be it, I will cast my shadow over her and their union, and shade them from the blinding light of war. All you need to is let me.” 

The Princess closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, looking up to the sun overhead. 

“Treachery - what end to you play at?” The Princess asked in a rumble, her mouth twisting into a scowl. “All those centuries ago, we fought because my chosen was human. Yet wi-“

“She is not in line for any throne save for that she makes herself.” The Queen answered matter-of-factually, extending broad, black wings wide to the side and up. “And besides, there was something I took far more to heart about your mate than his kin.

“He was weak.”

The Princess’ head shot up, eyes sparking dangerously. 

“He lacked the heart to rule by your side.” The Queen turned her eyes on Sam, tilting her chin up to stare down over her nose at him. 

Sam knew the expression from Henfri - it was a challenge, a choice between submission and rivalry. He’d seen it often when Henfri instructed new recruits with Noiesjel, if they argued with them. 

Sam could move nothing but his eyes, and chose to meet the dark Dragoness with equal bravado. 

“Look. Even now, knowing that he witnesses two deities, he does not turn down his eyes.” The Queen stared at him for a moment longer before she dipped her nose in acknowledgment and turned back to her daughter. “Had you brought a man like that to the palace, I may have been more… understanding. 

“So yes, for her I will gladly bend the accords to my will and shoulder any consequence. Just let me in.”

The Princess flicked her eyes to Sam momentarily as she seemed to weigh the situation. Then, she smiled sadly, looked back to her mother, and nodded once, making a dismissive wave at Henfri that seemed to do nothing. 

“So be it.” 

The Queen smiled, and from her hands flowed a smoke as black as her scales, coiling itself around Henfri. 

The smoke stilled and stood in the shape of wings over her shoulders, the vanished as the world resumed. 

Henfri’s lips curled up into a snarl and she let loose a wild howl just before a Darabadian made the mistake of rounding the corner behind her. 

Henfri whirled, grabbing the poor soul by the shirt and throwing him into the wall of the trench. 

“DARABADIAN SCUM!” Henfri roared, slashing the man’s face to a bloody pulp with her claws. “YOU HAVE STOLEN FRIENDS FROM ME.”

More soldiers flooded behind her, and she charged them too. 

“YOU WILL NOT TAKE THEM TOO!” Hefnfri shouted, ripping the face off the second man. Her voice seemed odd, as if it were actually two people using the same mouth. “MY FRIENDS, MY PEOPLE, MY HOME!”

Her neck darted out to the third man who tried to lift his rifle, jaw unhinged, biting off and swallowing his head whole. 

“COWER AND RUN. FLEE!” four soldiers around her shakily aimed rifles, seeming to be unwilling to fight or flee. They simply stood there, looking unsure what to do. “You are outmatched.” 

The soldiers obliged, simply dropping their weapons and sprinting back around the trench from whence they came. 

Henfri picked up Procjze from where it leaned against the wall and began to walk back towards Sam and Kara with a flat expression. 

Kara picked Sam up by his arm, hefting him to his feet wordlessly as Henfri neared. 

“Let us be rid of this place. The sappers will see to the burial of our fallen.” Henfri rumbled darkly, referencing the explosive charges lain beneath the trenches. 

Sam nodded and turned, leaning on Kara as he hobbled back towards the second line. It was clear that Henfri didn’t want to talk at the moment, nor was this the place to do it. 

-----------------------------------------------------------

Sorry I've been inactive. Been going through... some personal issues that all happened at once, as well as overtime at my day job.

I'll keep billing turned off until I get a chance to really dig into writing again, which hopefully will be soon.

Revenant's Resolve chapter 27

Something felt… wrong to Reznik. 

Familiar in a way he couldn’t quite articulate. 

He couldn’t help but feel that he was being sized up by a hawkish creature that was equally as dangerous as himself. Oona, Luminita’s mother, watched him from her seat at the table warily. 

Meanwhile, Botezatu and Luminita brought the various dishes she’d cooked out to the table in her stead, and Reznik could see why. Apparently, at some point between now and the last time he’d seen her in Carcal, she’d lost a leg.

A leg that was replaced by an artfully-painted wooden prosthetic. 

It made complete sense to Reznik why she wouldn’t be bringing out the food, given the cane and all, but he couldn’t quite understand her seeking, intense stare. 

More importantly, why the stormy eyes both her and her daughter shared were focused entirely on him. 

Okay, this has gone on long enough. 

Maybe she’s concerned about me being what I am, too. 

I should break the ice, at least just try and get conversation going. 

“H-hi.” Reznik greeted, pulling his lips back in what he hoped was a good smile. 

Oona cocked her head all the way to one shoulder, then halfway back to the other as her eyes narrowed. 

“Lumie didn’t tell me you could talk.” Her brow arched and she leaned back in her seat with a thoughtful expression. Oona’s eyes flicked down to Reznik’s chest and arms, then back up to his head in a way that felt like a recalibration.  “It does make sense, though. With everything else - if you can talk, walk, and reason like a man, what else ‘like a man’ could you do?”

There seemed to be an element of humorous hostility to her open-ended question that left Reznik feeling like it deserved an answer. 

What else can I do? 

Uhh.

Hmmm. 

Well, I can read, I just can’t turn the pages without ripping them.

Eh, I’ll save that for later. 

Eat? Yes. Eating seems like a good answer. 

I can eat like a real person - with my hands and everything!

“Eeeat-t?” Reznik felt the answer seemed fitting enough. 

Oona blinked owlishly, snorted, and flicked her gaze exasperatedly to the ceiling as she began to giggle. 

“Aye, fair. I’ve never once met a man that wasn’t like a coin. They’re either focused on their stomach or their sword, and seldom anything else.” Oona’s piercing stare returned to meet Reznik’s eyes just before the kitchen door slammed open. 

Botezatu emerged, carrying a large silver platter piled high with bread, potatoes, stewed vegetables, and a large roast. Behind him came Luminita, carrying an albeit smaller platter with an entire roasted bird, slices of the roast, and eggs. 

Knowing his own diet, he reasoned the one she carried was likely his. 

Luminita stopped and squinted oddly at her mother, who merely smiled brightly before taking a sip from her wine glass. 

Slowly, Luminita began to walk back towards the table, setting the platter before Reznik, then taking her seat. 

“Interesting company you keep, Lumie.” Oona broke the long moment of silence with a faint smile and amused tone. “Familiar, even.” 

Luminita hesitated a moment before she continued piling a plate with food, then handed it to her mother. 

“You know, speaking of being familiar…” Luminita glanced at Botezatu before staring pointedly, smiling back at her mother. 

Reznik was thoroughly confused, so he looked to Botezatu for help. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but hoped something from Botezatu would clarify the sudden tension in the room. 

Instead, Botezatu picked up his wine glass, fractionally shook his head side-to-side, and took a long drag. 

Reznik understood the warning when he saw it, but couldn’t fathom why Botezatu would be warning him. 

Instead of digging further, he decided that this was another conversation that really didn’t need his attention - but there was a perfectly good meal in front of him that did. 

So he ripped off a drumstick, brought it to his mouth, and crunched off half the limb. 

Okay. I now see where Luminita gets it. Gods above, this is so juicy…

And the spices, dear lord, the spices!

“G-good.” Reznik thanked just after swallowing, but a moment before he took another crunching bite away from the leg. 

Luminita’s mother was watching him with an ill-contained smirk. Luminita pinched the bridge of her nose exasperatedly. Botezatu was deeply focused on his glass of wine. 

“You know, at least with him, I doubt there will ever be a complaint about dinner.” Oona chortled, then took a bite of her own meal. 

Nope!

No complaints here! 

Reznik popped the last of the drumstick into his mouth and picked up one of the thick slices of roast as Luminita glowered at her mother. 

“You mean like how dad used to?” Luminita quipped back with a smile that looked entirely false.

“Exactly like how Velis used to.” Oona affirmed, pointing the end of her fork at her daughter before taking a bite. 

Reznik scooped up a wad of fluffy eggs, tilted his head back, and dumped them in. 

The meal was good. 

To him, it ranked among the finest of Luminita’s meals. 

Not like the pile of mutton and borderline crunchy sausage that inn had served. 

Granted, the inn food was marginally better than eating a stinky corpse in the field, and definitely served its purpose, but he noted with some amusement that he was beginning to develop an appreciation for the finer things in life. 

I wonder how I’d feel if this was all taken away from me…

Yeah… I wouldn’t be happy if I had to go back to eating whatever dead thing decided to die on the trail ahead of me. That, or being forced to rely on eating people all the time. 

So… I -really- need to get Zarah back. 

I doubt Botezatu’s goodwill will last as long as Zarah’s - but that’s also because she gets something out of it. 

I think. 

Am I just a curiosity to her?

Reznik poked at that last thought as he picked the de-legged bird up from the platter, pushed his thumbs into the center, and ripped the carcass in half. Then, he stuffed one half down his gullet. 

You know… Oona made an entire chicken for me. Not to mention a whole quarter of the roast, and eggs. 

I don’t see eggs anywhere else on the table - that means they’re special for me. 

And she really didn’t have to…

I should thank her. 

Thanking people for going out of their way to help is the right thing, after all!

Reznik swallowed deeply, smacked his lips, and pushed the words to his lips.

“T-hank yoo-oou.” He cheerfully rasped, trying to pull his lips back into the largest smile he could muster. 

Oona’s eyes went wide for a moment before she glanced to her daughter, then back to him - now with a wide smile of her own. 

A smile that felt like it had an undertone of superiority, as if she’d just won an argument. 

“You’re very welcome…” Oona replied with a small nod of her head, leaning her chin on her hand. “So. My daughter tells me that you’re the one who protected her from bandits in the woods a few weeks back - and that you helped keep the town safe when it was sacked.

“That, and the time that she’s spent with you working for the Lady Inquisitor has given her… the impression that you’re actually a perso-“

“Mother!” Luminita snapped, causing Oona to raise her hands in mock surrender. 

“I must admit - I’m curious myself. Just what are you?” Oona continued despite Luminita’s protests. “On the one hand, you talk - but so can some kinds of birds, so can wraiths and ghouls when they want to lure prey.

“Maybe I’m just… suspicious because I worry for my daughter, and I’m having a hard time reconciling what I see and what I’ve heard.”

Oona waved her hand first to her daughter, and then to Botezatu, who seemed to want nothing to do with this conversation - peacefully and pointedly focusing on his drink. 

Reznik thought about the question as he lifted the second half of the chicken to his mouth, opened it wide, and stuffed it in. 

Rationally, he reasoned, he would also be concerned if he had a daughter in the same position - having her safety more or less relying on the whims of an undead monster that had eaten people before, and very likely might again. 

But… how do I put this into words. 

I’m conscious, and after many years, I finally am starting to reclaim control over my body again. 

Even if I’m not a human, or an elf, or whatever Oona is… I think I’m on the same level of thought. 

I am, as far as I know. 

I’m not a telepath, so it’s not like I can really compare my own mind to theirs…

“I… thhink, I a-am.” Reznik’s mouth missed the majority of his thought, but still managed to squeeze words out as he was putting together the best way to respond.

Oona blinked abruptly, shook her head out, and then rolled it far to one side. 

“I… think, therefore I am.” Oona chuckled, leaning back in her seat as if astonished by his half-processed answer. “I never thought I’d hear philosophy come out of an undead.”

What?

Reznik picked up another slice of roast to try and disguise his confusion with chewing. 

How was what I said philosophy?

Oh well, whatever. 

If she’s happy, and will stop asking me questions, it’s good enough. 

I just want to polish off this food. 

“Table manners aside, Lumie, your Revenant friend seems more well-read than your father…” Oona complimented as Luminita pressed her palms into her eyes. 

“Well, I’m so glad he’s passed your tests, mother!” Luminita threw her palms down in a snap into her lap as she spoke with an exasperated tone. “But there’s bigger things to worry about. Like Zarah, and the Queen?” 

“Yes, there is. However, Thomman will be going to advocate for her tomorrow - there’s no use worrying ourselves silly when there’s nothing we can do for the moment. We are safe, we are fed, and we are free, here. 

“I spent almost two months in a foul, dangerous refugee camp after your father died in Carcal. I, for one, am grateful for the hand fate and Azretu have dealt me, regardless of the troubles it came with.” Oona’s smile was warm, despite the tension in the room. 

Tension that Reznik was currently doing his best to ignore as he had a wonderful idea. 

If he took one of his slices of roast and put the eggs atop it, then rolled it up, he could eat it all in one bite, and the flavors might compliment each other. 

So he nudged the piece of meat over until it lay flat on the tray, then worked his hand into scooping the eggs atop it. 

“So please, Luminita, give me this reprieve - my daughter is safe, I am happy, and for the first time in a long while, the world seems to be getting better for me. Let me enjoy that.” 

Reznik’s idea was a success, and he reveled in the flavor of well-salted eggs and spiced, tender meat as they combined on his tongue. 

I need to keep working on my speech. 

Imagine how good it would be if I could just ask for this! 

Yes, good morning Luminita! It is I, your talking Revenant asking for eggs and roast for breakfast again!

  *

“Good news, and bad news.” Botezatu grumbled, shutting the door behind him. 

He’d spent most of the day at the castle, apparently waiting for an audience with the Queen, and now he was returning with what was supposed to be the basis of their plan. 

“Good news is that your path forward will be relatively simple.” Botezatu informed, working off his overcoat with a grimace before Oona flew forward, helping to pull it off him. For a moment, it seemed like he tried to shake her of before he relented and let her help him. “The bad news is that there is precious little I can really do to help.

“Queen put out word. The Bessarban Czhan has the Prince hostage, and he’s issued a challenge. To send anyone that can beat the Czhan’s chosen man, his best warrior in single combat. If Wallach’s fighter loses, we surrender. If we win, then the Prince gets returned alive and unharmed.”

Botezatu moved to sit down in a plushly-upholstered chair beside the front entryway with a groan. As he stripped off his boots, he continued:

“Queen Dzvina has requested that every noble house submit a candidate to be Wallach’s champion - there will be a tournament, and whoever wins is promised the Queen’s favor.” Botezatu pulled off one of his boots and dropped it on the floor beside him, sending flecks of mud skittering away from it. With a faint twinkle in his eyes, Botezatu looked first to Reznik, then to Luminita. “I’m guessing that you two can see where I’m going with this…”

Oh! 

You’re telling me that all I have to do to free Zarah is fight a few people, then fight a Bessarban? 

Simple is right! 

I wonder if they’ll throw me another mage. Or, better yet, maybe a centaur! It’s been ages since I fought a centaur, and the last one was just too fast. 

“You mean you’re planning to submit Reznik as your pick, then?” Luminita questioned, casting her eyes up to Reznik, then back to Botezatu. 

“In the good old days, I would’ve leapt at the opportunity for myself,” Botezatu laughed throatily as he tore off his other boot. “But I’m long past my glory days, as Reznik demonstrated not too far back. 

“I think he has a real chance at winning, knowing how much of the nobility go about selecting their tournament champions.” 

Botezatu stood and looked directly into Reznik’s eyes with the same pointed stare that he’d given him in the Carcal dungeon. A look that felt like it weighed, measured, and sized up his very soul. 

“If you want Zarah back quickly, without having to wait years for this war to end - this is really your only option that doesn’t end in the headsman’s axe.” Botezatu sniffed once, likely from the cold rain outside, and briefly seemed to take stock of his physicality. “You impressed me in Carcal, then in our duel. 

“Let’s see if you can do it a third time.”Botezatu smiled in a lopsided way before patting Reznik on the shoulder. “Hopefully you ain’t gone soft in Zarah’s dusty lair, because you’ve got two days until the first fight. 

“After the tournament ends… well, I would guess at it being less than a week before you go and meet the Czhan’s challenge on the Queen’s behalf.” 

Reznik knew at some level that he was supposed to be feeling anxious about the news. He didn’t. 

Instead, he felt excited - giddy, even. 

He liked it when he got to do good things, using his abilities to help those around him. 

As much as he felt pride and gratitude towards Zarah for the self-improvements she’d helped him achieve in their time, the excursion with the necromancer had helped him realize that at some level he -missed- actually doing things. 

And while a tournament was no defenseless village to save from an invading, marauding army, it was still a chance for him to help the people closest to him. 

You know… 

I think I’m going to make an exception to my rule about eating people. 

Whoever the Czhan picks as his champion - I’m going to enjoy eating him. 

Maybe even in front of the Czhan himself. 

Kill him, eat him, then take Zarah and Luminita home!

Oh! Then see if I can talk Luminita into making me more of that brisket! 

Reznik felt an idle stirring at the back of his mind as Oona herded their group into the kitchen for supper. 

Maybe food wasn’t the only thing he wanted, maybe his life could run deeper than eating and fighting. 

I mean. I’ve already figured out how to talk, even if it’s hard and I’m bad at it.

What else can I do with time?

Revenant's Resolve Chapter 26

Reznik stared at the wall. 

In his mind, he ran through ideas like he was chasing a herd of deer that perpetually scattered in every direction. 

Zarah had been taken by the Queen and her men to some dungeon. 

He needed to free her, somehow. 

Reznik was sure that in the moment, he could’ve easily torn through the guards, killed the queen, and possibly escaped safely with Zarah and Luminita in tow. He had been about to, in fact, as Zarah was removed by the black-clad men. 

Instead, she had simply shaken her head while making direct eye contact. For some reason, she didn’t -want- him to fight back, to free her. 

Then, she’d smiled in a way that pulled emotions he couldn’t quite parse up from the depths of his chest and into his head. 

There were a great many terrible options on what to do now, and scant few truly good ones. In addition, those ideas that might genuinely be good were buried under the sea of awful ideas that always seemed to leap to the forefront of his mind. 

Like storming the castle to free her. 

That was, in fact, a bad idea - Revenant or not. 

Thinking of a good idea felt like searching his way through a haystack to find a needle. 

No, not just a haystack - a veritable hay mountain. 

Reznik heard a thud from the second floor and turned fractionally to eye the stairwell. 

Should he go check on Luminita? 

She’d stormed abruptly up the stairs as soon as the Queen’s men had slammed the door behind them with punctuative finality.

She’s probably taking this… not well. 

I… fuck. I don’t know how to comfort a woman! 

I can barely string a sentence together! Granted - far better than I was a month ago, not to mention a year. 

But still. 

What good will I do, she’ll probably sort out her own feelings by herself, and then can tell me what to do. 

A door upstairs slammed. 

Boots thudded.

And then Luminita emerged from the staircase. 

Ah. I may have misjudged this. 

Luminita was wearing one of Zarah’s spare, pouch-laden belts cinched around the waist of her dress. She also wore a steel breastplate, and a sword belted at her hip. 

In her hands, she held a crossbow with a bolt racked and loaded. She looked like she’d been crying. 

Luminita sniffled once and nodded her head towards the door. 

“Well? Let’s go.” She stated matter-of-factually before exhaling a shaky breath. Her knees also shook just enough to rustle the folds of her dress. “We-we’re not leaving her to rot in some dungeon. If we leave now, we might be able to take some back alleys and catch them off guard while they’re heading back to the castle. 

“From there we… uh-uhm… we’ll get out of the city and try to make it to Prussany - or, or, Francia. Somewhere not… here.” 

Reznik watched her for a moment longer, head tilted thoughtfully before he simply said:

“Nnno.” 

Luminita blinked confusedly, then scowled and took a step towards him. 

“No? NO?!” she balked, staring him down with an incredulous look. Luminita lowered the crossbow to her side, holding up her left arm in a gesture that further communicated her frustration and confusion. “You just want to leave the person who took you in, fed you -WEEKS- of expensive meat, paid for shiny high end armor, and made sure you could live without being killed out of hand to rot in jail?

“You know, I’ve talked a -lot- with Zarah about you. About what she saw in your head, about what she thought of you - all of it.

“She said you were brave, had a natural protective inclination, and to top all off - somehow, after years of -eating people-, you still had, in her words, ‘an unnatural level of altruism’.” 

Well, that certainly does stroke the old ego. How do I tell her that I would love to free Zarah.

Be a true knight in shining armor, storm the keep, and rescue the pretty Elf from evil queen’s clutches! 

But we can’t - we have to find a different way - preferably one which doesn’t involve us trading a life for a life - mine or hers. 

“Where’s the man who leapt through the trees to save me when I’d never even met him?” Luminita questioned in a much softer tone, one that was tinged with grief instead of wrath. “He wouldn’t leave her to her fate like this…” 

Mmm. Yep. 

That hurt. 

Zarah said no, though. Whatever way we get her out, I’m sure she doesn’t want it to be with a proverbial sledgehammer.

“Z-Zaahh-rah s-saaid nno.” Reznik rumbled a moment later, trying and likely failing to add a comforting note to his tone. 

Luminita stared at him unblinkingly for several long seconds after he spoke before she closed her eyes and exhaled through her nose. Then, she sat down against the wall behind her, setting the crossbow aside and curling her knees into her chest. 

“We have to do -something-.” Luminita explained in a volume barely above a whisper. “But I don’t know what to do - I’m just… a farm girl that can talk to birds. I don’t know what’ll happen if we try and save her, but I know without Zarah, all that’s going to happen is me out on the street - or worse.” 

Luminita sounded outright defeated. 

Hmm… 

People find contact comforting, right? 

Maybe I should give her a hug, or at least not stand all the way across the room. 

Yes, I’ll just go and sit down next to her. If she wants to hug me, she can do that. 

Reznik crossed the room, turned his back to the wall, and pushed the idea at his body that he wanted to sit down. 

The back of his armor hitting the wall resulted in a loud bang, followed by an odd grinding, scraping noise as he lowered himself to the floor, resulting in an almost comically quiet thud as his rear hit the floorboards.

Luminita watched him with a hard-to-read expression for a moment before she snorted and shook her head. She pressed a thumb into each eye and wiped before sniffling and saying;

“Thank you… I needed a bit of laughter.” 

Well… yeah, I suppose being clumsy can be a bit entertaining. 

“But that doesn’t change the fact that we have to do something to get Zarah out of this.” 

Reznik began to slowly nod his head as he pushed through his next words to his body. 

“W-weee d-doo.” He acknowledged, trying to come up with an idea that they could reasonably try. 

Nothing came to him. 

He wasn’t nobility, nor was Luminita - and he believed that some kind of noble backing would be the key to any non-violent means of freeing Zarah. 

The only question was how to get it…

Reznik tried to remember the names of the nobles Zarah had introduced him to, but drew a blank. 

Then, there was a knock at the door. Luminita leaned around Reznik and stared at it with furrowed brows, before she groaned and began to push off the floor. 

The door was gingerly opened and pushed inward, revealing the backlit silhouette of a tall, broad-shouldered man. He had a hand resting atop the pommel of a long, straight sword as he surveyed the room with a slow, deliberate pan of his head. 

The man took two steps into the room, eying Reznik and Luminita when Reznik’s eyes adjusted to the abrupt change in brightness. 

Sir Botezatu clucked his tongue before he hooked his thumbs in his belt, eyes jumping to the weapons Luminita brandished, halfway to standing and frozen still. 

“Is this a bad time?” Botezatu grunted, lifting an index finger to point at the crossbow on the ground. His face was cleanly shaven, save for a bushy mustache, and it prominently displayed the deep scars covering his face that looked to still be in the process of healing. 

Scars that Reznik had likely caused in their fight. 

Well. I honestly forgot about him. I wonder if he’s here to try and settle the score.

“I… Sir Botezatu. I-I’m afraid that Dame Bukewicz is, well, unavailable at the moment, an-“

“I’m not here to see the Dame, Luminita.” Botezatu shook his head as he softly interrupted Luminita with a short wave of his hand. “Believe it or not… your mother actually sent me to check on you. Said she had a ‘bad feeling’ and wanted me to check in.” 

Luminita finished standing up and looked at Botezatu with a half-open mouth. 

“My-my mother?” she questioned a moment later, sounding stunned. 

Botezatu’s eyes dropped to the floor briefly as he reached up to scratch absently at the back of his head. When he looked back up, he wore an odd expression between that of a smirk and a grimace. 

“Yes… I tried to help her more after Velis died, but I was clapped in irons for helping our friend there. When I was set free after the fight with him, I decided that it was time to retire, but not before one last adventure…” the smile on Botezatu’s face grew wider, deeply pronouncing the crow’s feet on his eyes. “I actually just returned the other night from the road.” 

Oh. Well that’s interesting - I wonder if she’s doing okay.

Though… does this mean if there’s something more between them. Maybe that’s why there was such tension between him and Luminita’s father.

“I- well, is she okay?” Luminita demanded, stepping forward as she too began to smile. “What city is she in?” 

Botezatu guffawed and nodded as he crossed his arms over his chest, a faint air of pride coloring his smile. 

“Yes. She’s very much okay. At least now. I found her in a refugee camp to the west of Crai. As for what city she’s in… well, considering I’m retired, with such weary bones, I figured I would need an incredible cook for my kitchen.”

“That’s… wonderful!” Luminita cheerfully exclaimed, before she quickly waved her hands and pressed them to her eyes as if to reset her train of thought. “Wait, wait, wait. I need to tell you something. The… the Queen - she came and took Zarah away. She said it had something to do with her brother kidnapping Prince Vezemir.”

Botezatu’s smile dropped flat and he looked to Reznik, then back to Luminita. 

“Pack your things. Both of you. If you can carry it, and feel like you might need it in the next day or three, make sure you bring it.” Botezatu instructed calmly, nodding to the top of the stairs. 

“O-okay.” Luminita stuttered then turned to run up the stairs, leaving Reznik and Botezatu to eye one another. 

“Don’t have anything?” Botezatu asked with a raised brow as soon as she’d left the room. 

Reznik started to shake his head, but then realized he -did- have something, his sole possession.

By way of reply, he thudded his fist against his armor demonstratively. 

Botezatu closed his eyes, inhaled, and let a hint of a smile tug at his lip.

“In that case, go and help her.” He pointed to the top of the stairs. “I don’t know that many women that are good at packing light.” 

  *

Reznik lifted a finger towards the flickering green flame. He’d never seen a candle that let out a green flame. 

Nor had he seen green fire in general before. 

As his finger hovered above the flowery-scented candle in an elaborate wall sconce, he wondered they managed to shape a wax flower inside of the clear wax body. 

He reasoned it must’ve been done in many, many layers. 

Then his finger began to sizzle, and he pursed his lips with a frown. The fire felt unusually hot, at least compared to the candle in Zarah’s basement. 

Ah yes.

Fire hot. 

Such powerful news, a true marvel of discovery!

We must tell the Czar. 

Reznik paused and tilted his head.

Just what was a Czar? He could feel the answer at the edge of his mind, just painfully out of reach.

“H-hot-t” he said without prompting, as if his body had randomly decided to state that singular thought on its own. 

As it turned out, Botezatu’s home was actually outside the walls of the city, and it dwarfed Zarah’s by a wide margin. 

It was two stories, and nearly twice as wide, and seated on an almost fake-looking picturesque plain. 

The inside was also cluttered with trophies, tapestries, and oddities that seemed to have little connection to one another, save that they clearly held some value to Botezatu himself. 

While he was making his rounds around the home, exploring, smelling, and likely touching items he was not supposed to touch, Luminita, Botezatu, and Luminita’s mother - whose name he had forgotten - were in the library, plotting. 

Reznik wasn’t good at plotting. 

He didn’t feel his input was needed, not in any of it. 

But poking weird things he hadn’t seen before? Now that was a task worthy of a Revenant such as himself. 

Though, probably not a lit candle that seemed to burn at an unreasonably hot temperature. 

“Decided to try out life as a candle?” Botezatu chortled, causing Reznik to jump slightly as he turned over his shoulder to see the man standing behind him with a knowing smirk. “You know, I’d be lying if I said that I hadn’t done the exact same thing when I bought those. 

“You’re lucky you were wearing your gloves when you did, unlike myself.” 

Reznik felt his cheeks get slightly warm, and didn’t fully understand why. 

He also tried to think of a reply, but in the moment, only one word slipped from his mouth. 

“Hot.” Reznik lifted his finger, still burning, demonstratively. 

Botezatu blinked several times.

“Godsgivemestrength. Yes, so I gathered… those candles are enchanted to burn hotter, brighter, and as far as I know, indefinitely longer than normal.” 

Reznik grunted thoughtfully as he stared at the fire on his finger. It was far less hot, but also far more orange than the candle. 

“You should probably put that out.” Botezatu instructed in a tone that felt tired. 

He’s right. 

It’ll probably burn through my glove here shortly. 

But uhh… I don’t think there’s any water nearby. 

As if a candle sparked to life inside his mind, he had an idea. 

Reznik simply plopped the finger inside his mouth and closed around it, sucking gently. 

“Uhhh. Okay, yeah. That one’s my fault.” Botezatu sniffed and scratched at his temple as he continued to eye Reznik with a concerned stare. “Luminita and Oona are going to make supper. The two of you will sleep here tonight, and possibly for the next few days. Tomorrow, I’ll go to the castle and request an audience with the Queen on what’s happening with Zarah and see what I can do. We’ll adapt from there, but thankfully she’s in the noble dungeons, so she’s likely more comfortable than many of the inns she’s stayed at over the years. 

“As for you, I don’t know if my dining chairs can support the weight of that armor, and I really don’t want to find out. Can you take it off by yourself, or would you like help?” 

Reznik glanced down to his arms as he thought about the question for a moment, then nodded. 

“H-help.” He answered after he gathered the thought together for his body. 

Botezatu grunted, shrugged, and beckoned over his shoulder. 

“To the armory, then.” 

Reznik followed the man through his house, and into an offshoot of the front entrance that was sealed behind a thick, heavy wooden door locked with three separate locks. 

When the man threw it open, Reznik wished that he knew how to whistle.

Botezatu’s collection of guns, swords, spears, shields, and other odds and ends was a sight to behold. 

Neatly organized on racks, mannequins, and shelves, the man had enough to equip an entire team of soldiers, if not more. 

I wonder if he bought all these, or if they were taken off of dead foes. 

Or maybe he just took them from whatever armory was under his care. 

I wanna learn how to use a sword. 

“Come on.” Botezatu grumbled, waving Reznik deeper into the room and pointing to a clear spot in the center. When Reznik reached it, Botezatu reached out and lifted Reznik’s arms up and began to deftly remove his gloves and gauntlets. 

The man worked quickly, in an effortless way that told Reznik that this was not his first, second, or even hundredth time taking off a set of armor. 

“You know, I have to give it to Zarah, putting a Revenant in armor is a creative and terrifying idea on its own.” Botezatu set a pauldron on the ground with a thud. “But putting you specifically in a set of heavy Dwarven plate - now that’s a thought only she would have.”

I hope she’s doing alright… and that you can find a way to get her out, Botezatu. 

I should ask him what his plan is for her. 

Or at least meeting the Queen.

“W-whaat… i-is thhe pla-an?” Reznik rasped as Botezatu removed the breastplate. 

“For Zarah?” Botezatu clarified, walking behind Reznik to work at the back of his armor. 

“Uhh-huh.”

“Well. That’s the problem, lad. Situation’s complicated. There really is no plan - other than to ask the Queen and make one from there.” Botezatu growled, struggling with one of the buckles before it finally came free and Reznik felt a weight leave his back. “But whatever comes tomorrow, I fear Zarah’s path to freedom may take time, violence, or both.

“We’ll take it as it comes, though.” Botezatu chuckled before it turned into a rattling cough that let out in a groan. “Well. This is good enough for my dinner table. Let’s not keep the ladies waiting, mmh?” 

Reznik missed the reassuring feeling of his armor, but the prospect of food quickly drained any lamentation he felt being simply his normal self. 

Food could heal any wound, after all. 

Revenant's Resolve Chapter 25

Zarah let out a long groan as she leaned over the bedpan before coughing up some more bile. 

She spat once, not lifting her head where it hung loosely above the receptacle. 

“Where… where are we?” Zarah questioned barely above a whisper between deep breaths. 

The inn! The town of… what was this place called again? 

Dalbu? Baldu? 

Dalgu!

Yes.

We’re at the inn in Dalgu!

Reznik couldn’t feel Zarah’s presence in his head, so he pushed the words at his body. 

“I-innn… Dal-allgoo.” 

“Dalgu…” Zarah repeated a second later, as if the name was confusing for some reason. “That’s… more than twenty miles from the hill.”

Reznik nodded enthusiastically, feeling marginally proud of his ferrying of Zarah. At some level, he had saved her. 

Or at least that’s what his ego was telling him. 

“I’m guessing I have you to thank for that.” 

Again, Reznik gleefully bobbed his head as Zarah sighed deeply and frowned sideways. 

“Well. I guess that kills the last of my doubts, then.” Zarah began to shake her head slowly before abruptly wincing and quickly leaning back over the puke bowl. After a moment, when nothing further seemed forthcoming, Zarah continued: “How many days have I been out?”

Reznik pushed at the idea that he wanted his body to lift his right hand, fold his ring finger, pinkie, and thumb down. A moment later, his hand shakily rose, fingers extending into something that vaguely resembled a V. 

“Two days?” Zarah chuffed and lifted her head further to look Reznik in the eyes. “So you carried me here, somehow paid for a room at an inn, and then waited for me to wake up, all on your own? Is there anything I’m missing?”

Reznik chewed at that thought for a moment before he felt a candle light inside his mind. 

“Dock-t-tor.” 

Zarah laughed barkingly once, rolling her eyes at him with a hint of a smile. 

“You’re joking.” 

Reznik blinked twice.

“You’re… not joking.” Zarah deadpanned, watching him with an expression that grew more concerned by the second. “You… actually did all that.”

Zarah watched him for a moment longer before turning away, stuttering with an open mouth as if she was about to say something and scratching the back of her head. 

No words came out, and she closed her mouth. 

As if wordlessly changing the subject, Zarah began to look around the room with a frown and bunched eyebrows before glancing down at herself. She raised a finger, pointed at the rough-spun, single-piece dress the apothecary had put her in after seeing to her, and asked:

“What am I wearing, and where are the rest of my clothes?” 

Reznik didn’t feel nearly confident enough to answer the first part of her question, so he pivoted directly to the second part, pulling out the burlap sack that contained Zarah’s bloodstained trousers, shirt, and overcoat, along with her belt and everything in it. 

He also retrieved her saber from under the bed. 

Zarah set the chamberpot to the side and accepted the proffered items, looking like she was struggling to lift the sack as she set it to the other side. 

“I -really- overdid it. I haven’t popped that many consciousnesses back-to-back in many years, and the last time it nearly killed me.” Zarah mused, rummaging through the bag haphazardly. “I’m a little fuzzy how it all ended, my mind was starting to fail by the end, there. Any chance you could tell me, since you’re suddenly so chatty?” 

Reznik thought on that for a moment, sliding his jaw back and forth as he thought on how exactly he could explain what happened. Once he had his idea firmly locked down, he raised his hand like holding a gun, and mimed a shot before pointing to his eye. 

Zarah clucked her tongue as she withdrew her pistol from the bag and inspected it. 

“I’m surprised I managed to hit that shot. I’m even more surprised that I used my last bullet for it. That’s… not something I try to make habit of.” She set the empty weapon to the side and continued to rummage for another moment before she snapped her head over to Reznik. “You wouldn’t happen to have my coinpurse on you, by chance?” 

Reznik nodded and pointed to where it sat on the chair on the other side of the room.

“You really did take charge of everything…” Zarah muttered thoughtfully as she seemed to burrow her eyes into a point in Reznik’s chest. “You know, it took a lot of trust to fire that shot. 

“I’ve always saved it for myself. I know what happens if I get captured by men or undead.” She let the words hang heavy in the air as she pulled her hands out of the bag and set them on her lap. “I thought that even if I over-exerted my telepathic abilities that you would just stand watch… like a guard dog. Wait for me to wake up, if I ever even did.” 

Reznik cocked his head curiously as Zarah bit down on her tongue and sighed deeply. 

“I guess you could say that I’m impressed, and it’s made me think that maybe I’ve been looking at you all wrong. You’ve a lot more autonomy and drive than I thought, and perhaps you’re capable of far more than just being my own personal cudgel and fighting dog.”

Zarah flipped the blanket off of herself abruptly and slid forward until her feet touched the floor. She attempted to push herself off of the bed, but only ended up flopping back a moment later, causing a sloshing noise to emanate from the puke-laden bedpan. 

She sighed deeply, scowled, and cocked her head to the side before raising her left hand. 

“Help… would you help me stand?” 

  *

Reznik stole another glance up to Zarah on her freshly-purchased horse. Once more they moved through the outskirts of Bratsow on the main road, though this time Reznik marched beside her instead of towed behind her horse. 

Something about the way the sun behind her head scattered light through her brown hair in a way that left it looking like the orange flickers of a dying fire itched at the back of Reznik’s mind. 

I think I understand why that Lord’s cousin is so smitten with her. 

She radiates strength, even covered in bandages from head to toe. Not to mention that she’s pretty.

Zarah brushed a flitting lock of hair behind her long, pointed ear and smiled fractionally out of the corner of her mouth. 

“You’re staring.” She noted, turning fractionally to look at him with a curious smirk. “If you’re thinking something at me, I can’t hear you. My telepathic abilities are still… drained.” 

Reznik abruptly looked away, feeling a twinge of embarrassment that he’d been caught looking at her. 

He wasn’t entirely sure why. 

“S-ssory” he pushed out a moment later.

Ah.

Still haven’t nailed down the “S” sound, have I?

“No need to be sorry, just something for you to know. I personally don’t mind it - in my homeland, prolonged eye contact more often than not leads to establishing good rapport with someone. The conversation of souls, my grandmother called it.” Zarah chortled amusedly before she ducked forward with a groan, narrowly avoiding a low hanging branch. “People here though, staring tends to make them uncomfortable.”

Reznik grunted understandingly as he stared down the road ahead of them, along with the distant farms that had grown far less so since they’d left Dalgu. 

I wonder what Luminita will say when we get back. We’ve been gone far longer than we thought we would, just under a week, in fact.

Oooh.

I wonder what food she’ll make!

Hopefully that brisket again, or at least a roast. 

Honestly, I’d kill an army for a roast like that. Wouldn’t even snack on them, just kill. 

Reznik glanced back over to Zarah, only to find her eyes waiting for him. 

They twinkled a rich golden brown in the bright sunny day, watching him in a piercing, intense way that left him with an odd sense of velvety vertigo. 

He stared back, caught off guard by the sudden intensity of the gaze and tried to think of something to say. Nothing came forth in his mind as his thoughts seemed to catch and stumble over themselves. 

Then, his foot hit a dip in the road, and he proceeded to stumble forward, breaking the eye contact as he attempted to right himself. 

Zarah began to laugh boisterously as Reznik pulled himself out of the near-tumble, shaking out his head like a wet dog as he caught his footing. 

“Perhaps eye contact and walking isn’t something you’re cut out for, yet.” Zarah got out between ripples of dying laughter. “That, or you’re just naturally clumsy. Were you like that before you became a Revenant?” 

Reznik thought on that for a second before he shrugged.

“D-don’t r-r-remmm… re-me- k-know.” He answered, having to change words mid-sentence as his mouth struggled to work out the longer word. 

It was true that in the past weeks, he’d been having tiny flashes of memory that didn’t line up with the wastes, but he couldn’t tell anymore what was just active imagination or not.

“Hm.” Zarah acknowledged in a chipper tone. “I like to imagine you were someone far less… Revenant-like. Maybe a scientist, or a painter. Your thoughts are often… backwards from other people. 

“You’ve heard the saying ‘breadth of a sea, depth of a puddle’ before, yes? You’re the opposite. Tall, focused ideas - like your mind is set up to solve the world, one singular problem at a time.” The woman on her high horse smiled beatifically again before she leaned over to him and added; “Perhaps that’s why you’re so bad at multi-tasking. Maybe it has nothing to do with your condition after all!” 

Reznik narrowed his eyes at her lighthearted teasing before he decided it wasn’t worth the effort to jab back. 

He was clumsy, after all, so it wasn’t like she was lying. 

More and more as they approached Bratsow, Reznik spotted patrols of armed city guards patrolling the offshoot roads across the plains, not to mention the several they passed. They sold the horse to a stable just outside the wall, and continued on foot to their destination. 

Though Zarah told Reznik that she was more than healthy enough now to walk, she still did so with a faint limp and a far slower pace than usual. 

When they reached the gate, there were far more guards atop the walls and inspecting the people entering than there was when they’d left. They eyed Reznik and Zarah with suspicion, one even running into a door inside the gatehouse when Zarah mentioned her name and station. 

After what felt like far more of a hostile questioning than the last time, he and Zarah were allowed passage through to the inner city, though not without many wary and suspicious glances from the guards as they passed.

“Something’s wrong…” Zarah murmured quietly after they’d made it a block into the city. She walked fractionally closer to Reznik as she slowly panned her head back and forth and eyed the other denizens of the city. “The streets are never this quiet at this hour. I’m hearing thoughts of something… a raid, maybe?

“Somewhere near the city, and apparently it’s got the guards riled up.” 

Zarah clucked her tongue and exhaled a breath. 

“We should pick up the pace. Whatever’s happening, I should go inform the Lord Inquisitor of the success of our mission, at a minimum.” 

Reznik’s unease grew as they turned onto the row of old townhomes that contained Zarah’s residence. 

A quartet of armored men in black tabbards stood at the gate to Zarah’s home. All four turned their heads in unison to face Reznik and Zarah, watching them with weapons in hand. 

Oh. 

Someone’s coming to kill us, then? But why?

And why not just stop us at the gates?

Reznik heard a footfall to his left and turned, noticing a man with a rifle atop a nearby roof. 

“Dont.” Zarah hissed, continuing at the pace she had been before, jerking Reznik along with her by his arm. “These are not men to be trifled with. I know them, or at least of them.”

She paused a moment longer as the four at the gate fanned out in the street. One of them raised an open palm at her door, indicating for them to enter Zarah’s home.

“They’re the Queen’s chosen men. Don’t do anything… brash.” Zarah instructed, reaching out to gently squeeze Reznik’s forearm. “I’m only just getting my strength back, it wouldn’t be wise to start something we couldn’t finish.” 

As they turned into Zarah’s small front yard, the four men behind them collapsed in and began to follow them. 

Reznik tilted his head, hearing faint yet bright laughter from inside the home as they approached. When the door opened, it carried through bright and melodic. 

“…And so, I had to send the Prussanian ambassador back to his parliament without any pants! I sent those separately, in a gift-wrapped box addressed to the Arch-Duke personally, along with a note detailing every moment of his peon’s impropriety!” Reznik saw the source of the voice seated at the kitchen table as he entered the room, and understood why the Queen’s chosen men were at Zarah’s home. 

Queen Dzvina sat across from a resoundingly nervous Luminita at the dining table. Dzvina’s smile was bright as she laughed at the end of her own tale, in stark contrast to the flat, emotionless expressions of her guards. 

She turned fractionally, her smile changing tone as her yellow eyes found Zarah. 

“Ah, so you bothered to return. How kind of you.” The Queen offered in a tone that dripped with a kindness that did not fit the tone of everyone else in the room. “It’s no matter, your lovely handmaiden here has made for exceptional company in your absence.” 

ROYALTY!

Right! 

Kneel!

A moment later, and Reznik’s armored knee thudded into the floorboards loud enough that several guards raised their weapons, and even the Queen herself jumped slightly. 

Then, she laughed abruptly, what felt like a genuine smile returning to her face before the smile grew chilly again. 

“Oh, Zarah, your companions are so… quaint - no, charming.” Dzvina offered as she composed herself, before waving with an open palm at the seat to Luminita’s right. “Please. Sit. -Now-.” 

Reznik tilted his head fractionally, wondering if he should stand yet. 

Zarah inhaled through her nose and slowly crossed the room to sit at the directed chair as Reznik began to stand.

“Oh no. I did not give you permission to stand. You will stay right there, like that, or my men will kill those two first, and then find a way to deal with you. Trust me, they are -very- resourceful.” 

Reznik had his answer. He wasn’t supposed to stand yet. 

A dark part of his ego screamed at him to stand up out of spite, but Zarah faintly shaking her head at him as she took her seat quashed the final bit of resistance he had for the queen at that moment. 

“Thank you. Now, Zarah. Have you any reason why I’m here yet? Have you properly scoured their minds, or should I explain details for everyone?” the Queen asked with the same hostile grin, leaning forward on the table and quirking a brow. 

“I… haven’t done any deep dives yet, your majesty, but from what I can tell, Vezemir has gone missing, yes?” Zarah offered after clearing her throat nervously. 

“No… no not missing. Captured.” Queen Dzvina corrected with a waggle of her finger. “An ambush. Coordinated, informed, and executed near-flawlessly. They killed everyone. Except for my son, of course. An entire convoy of royal guard overwhelmed and slaughtered to the last man. They even went so far as to kill several peasants that crossed their path - wrong place, at a very, very wrong time.”

Does… Does she think Zarah had something to do with it? 

She’s been with me the entire time - not to mention that we don’t have the ability to take down a regiment of royal guards… I think.

Could I?

I’m hard to kill in this armor, after all. 

I wonder, what would be harder, that Necromancer and her army of undead, or a regiment of royal guards protecting the Prince…

“Except one, that is. A boy, who managed to survive after his parents shoved him into a thicket. When a local patrol found the site several hours later, he came running to them. Told them everything he saw. 

“Then I had my own psychers tear into him. That’s where you come in, you see - both you and I know one of the men who kidnapped my son. My -only- heir.” 

Dzvina’s smile had turned into a snarl as she let her words hang dramatically. 

“Your brother, Szymon.” 

“Oh.” Zarah gulped and somehow sat even straighter in her seat than before. 

Zarah has a brother? 

And he’s a bad guy? If there weren’t a bevy of armed guards around us, I’d probably be excited. 

Seems like a story from one of the books Luminita reads to me. 

“So, you see position I’m in, even if by some miracle you weren’t involved. My son has been stolen from me, leaving me not only without an heir, but without the most valuable treasure that my husband left me.” Even though Dzvina’s tone dripped with hostility, Reznik heard a slight hitch as she spoke about her husband. “And given that you’re a viciously talented telepath yourself, I don’t wish to risk putting my psychers in danger probing the depths of your mind. 

Reznik tilted his head curiously as he thought about Dzvina, and what he would do if he were in her position. 

Honestly, I’d probably have thrown us all in a dungeon by now. 

Maybe killed one of us, too…

Raised every soldier I could and sent them out after my son. 

I doubt I’d really be talking - I’d have other people do that for me. 

Dzvina took in a long, deep breath, closing her eyes and blowing it out in a rush as she seemed to recompose herself.

“You are… lucky it is I that is widowed, not my husband.” She opened her eyes and glared down the bridge of her nose at Zarah. “He was a brute, as you know. A good man, but a brute nonetheless. I prefer to fix my problems with words, not steel. 

“Dame Zarah Bukewicz, you are under arrest, and you will spend your days in the noble dungeon until my son is returned to me, your brother is dead, and any guilt that could be laid on your conscience is cleared.” Queen Dzvina stated in matter-of-fact tone before waving her hand at one of the soldiers in the room. “Guards, take her away.” 

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.

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.

Revenant's Resolve Chapter 22

Well over two hours had gone by with Dzvina addressing notable matters of politics, the kingdom’s finances, and mediating inter-nobility disputes peacefully, before it could result in bloodshed. Each point of order had flowed cleanly and almost artfully into one another, despite how disparate the topics seemed.

Finally, the discussion turned to war. 

Dzvina read off generalized reports from the generals in the field to those gathered, assuring everyone that the matter of conflict was being taken well in hand by the army they’d raised to fight the invading Bessarbans. 

“And with that, I believe the boring matters have finally come to an end for the day.” Dzvina offered with a demure smile and a light, knowing chuckle. “Again, I thank you all for hearing the state of the kingdom, and lending the strength of your houses to its continued stability. That said, I believe we can call this to an en-“

“A moment of everyone’s time, actually!” Prince Vezemir interrupted his mother, who’s smile went suddenly wooden. “I have a rather momentous announcement to make.” 

Oh, I bet he’s going to make that announcement now.

This will certainly be interesting. 

Dzvina’s pale skin turned a shade lighter as she slowly turned her head to watch him with a completely frozen expression, save for her eyes, which clearly communicated her frustration. 

Oh. That’s exactly what’s happening!

“As you all know, our borders were grossly violated by Bessarba. Though we have sent many soldiers to quell the threat in our east, I feel as if the situation lacks the proper touch to demonstrate to our enemies, adversaries, and other neighbors that our borders are sovereign and not a matter of negotiation.” 

The Prince rose from his seat as Reznik heard Zarah sigh deeply beside him, briefly pinching the bridge of her nose before looking back up to the youth’s speech. 

Reznik briefly glanced around the room, searching the expressions of the nobles he could see around him curiously. 

Most were intrigued, some were skeptical, and several seemed to be grinning predatorily - as if they were waiting to hear this announcement. 

“I need not spend extra time espousing the strength of our nation and army, nor do I need to expound on my own ability. I may be a Prince this day, but on another, I will be your King. As my father lead our soldiers to glory in his time, I too, intend to display my capability and fitness for the throne. 

“In the coming fortnight, those who have been left alone by the specter of war will see their levies called up to task, and I will lead the army on the field of battle. I will send missives to the counts, lords, and dukes who have been passed over for the first wave tonight, and I expect your responsibilities to be met dutifully.” 

Reznik noted the moment Dzvina’s expression faltered. 

The woman closed her eyes and dropped her smile as she exhaled a heavy breath. Notably, what chased away her frozen smile wasn’t wrath, as Reznik expected, but a look of severe melancholy that dissipated quickly to return to placid calm. 

Vezemir surveyed the assembled nobility with an arch look of pride, a wry smile touching his lips before he turned fractionally over his shoulder towards his mother.

“With that, now we may adjourn this address, mother.” 

Dzvina looked down on Vezemir with a flat expression before she closed her eyes, licked her lips, and inhaled.

“Yes. I believe today’s business is… concluded.” She offered, opening her eyes to look back out on the audience. “Unfortunately, due to the rather frenetic goings-on, I believe the usual banquet is not in good taste. My apologies, and best wishes in wherever the winds of fate may carry you.” 

At that, she rose from her seat, turned, and exited the room through the door she’d entered through. 

Prince Vezemir, on the other hand, remained, greeting and shaking hands with several nobles as the majority of the audience stood and began to file out the exit of the great hall. The din of conversation steadily grew from a rumbling murmur to a continuous roar, and Reznik glanced over to Zarah hoping for instructions. 

“Prince Vezemir asked for us personally in that summons.” Zarah explained after she noticed his questioning stare. “That means he’ll likely schmooze for a bit, and then collect us to tell us whatever it is that he needed to. We can just sit here, and avoid the… -ahem- others.”

Offering an internal shrug, Reznik leaned back in his seat and patiently waited. 

And waited.

Eventually, after the vast majority of the room had emptied, Vezemir finally approached Zarah and him. 

"Ah, good, I’m happy you could make it, Zarah!” Vezemir greeted with a warm smile as Zarah rose to her feet before respectfully bowing. 

Oh, right.

I should probably kneel. Eh, or at least bow. 

Royalty and all that. 

Alright, let’s just bend at the waist, and…

Reznik slowly stood to his feet before tilting ever forward at the hips. 

Then, he overshot his goal, and kept bending forward until it became a stretch - pieces of his armor pushing at each other on his abdomen as he apparently tried to touch his toes with his nose. 

He didn’t even stop moving when his head slammed loudly against the back of the pew in front of him. 

“Prince Vezemir, that was an impressive speech you delivered just now.” Zarah complimented politely as Reznik attempted to work himself out of the position he’d stuck himself in without slamming the back of his helmet against the pew in front of him. “Your missive said you had some work for me, am I correct in assuming that it’s related?” 

“Mmm, not really, beyond it related to the general stability of the kingdom.” Vezemir nodded his head sideways and turned slightly to grab a folded, wax-sealed letter out of a pouch at his waist. He handed it to Zarah with an excited, almost-evil smile. “This should contain all the instructions and context you need to execute your task. It was too… sensitive to be handed to a courier, even a trusted one, and it’s entirely in-line with your skillset.”

Reznik twisted slightly at his neck and hips and managed to stand back to his feet without loudly slamming his head into the back of the pew. 

“I already sent a notice to Lord-Commander Tarron that I’m tasking you for this personally, and not to disturb you with any other tasks until it’s finished. I’ve already had a count and a baron complain to me about the… suspicious disappearances, along with a constable in the countryside informing me of an irregular sighting of undead, so I expect your best for this.” Prince Vezemir nodded respectfully at Zarah, then at Reznik. “Now, you’ll forgive me, but I have many preparations to make for my coming campaign, and little time.”

“I understand, your highness.” Zarah bowed briefly at Vezemir after placing the letter inside of a breast pocket in her coat. 

Oh, I guess I need to bow again.

Well, lets see if I can do it without getting stuck this time!

Vezemir’s hand shot out as Reznik began to bow again, seizing him by the shoulder and pushing him back upright. 

“Please… stop making an ass of yourself in front of my nobility.” Vezemir instructed in a hushed, low tone. “I understand bowing is difficult with your unique situation, and I will take no offense to you withholding. Believe me, on behalf of your master - silent and imposing is far more becoming for you in that armor.

“You work for the Inquisition now, your public actions reflect on both her and I.” 

Vezemir smiled in a way that felt forced and slightly pained as his eyes darted to one side of the room, then the other. 

After Reznik remained standing for a moment longer, Vezemir nodded, smiled, and sidestepped around Zarah, heading towards another group of conversing nobles and their attendants. 

*

Reznik sniffed the air suspiciously as Zarah prodded at the ground around the de-boned, de-brained, and de-fleshed corpse of what they’d been told was once a pig. All that was really left were a few flecks of bone, a coagulated patch of bloody dirt, and a rather-neatly removed hide. 

It looked like it had been removed with an incredibly sharp instrument, though the farmer’s testimony would imply otherwise. 

The air smelled like death. Like his home in the wastes. 

“… yep, ‘round the middle of the night, when the moon was at it’s highest, about twenty of them came and tore through anything that was outside.” Said the weathered half-human, half-goat man before snorting and spitting off to the side. “Shamblin’ all over, groaning ‘n moaning loudly. Would’ve thought it an orgy if the hogs weren’t screamin’ so loud.”

“Twenty of them, you said?” Zarah questioned with a raised brow, turning over her shoulder to eye the farmer as she reached into a pouch at her belt. 

“Give or take.” The farmer shrugged noncommittally. “It was the middle of the night, and a rabble of undead ‘uz tearing my livestock to bits. I was more concerned with hurrying my family under the floorboards, and how I’m going to feed them this winter.” 

Zarah didn’t reply immediately, instead placing a small talisman onto the ground, which began to let off a glowing red steam that floated through the air away from the farm. 

She sighed, nodded, and put it back in a pouch on her right hip before standing back up. 

“Well, you’ve done right calling this to your constable’s attention.” Zarah noted as she reached into her breast pocket and withdrew what looked like a notebook. She flipped it open to a point in the middle, snatched a pencil from her sleeve and began to write. “Luckily, all signs point to this being an undead attack - and because of the late King’s law, damage to your property by undead is covered by your taxes.” 

She withdrew a small pendant from her neck, bit down on the tip of her pinkie with one of her canine teeth, and proceeded to smear the blood all over the face of the pendant. Then, she simply pressed it against the front of the page. 

“Here, take this to your local Baron, present it to him, and he will compensate you either with money equal to your lost property, or replacement livestock. Good day.” 

Zarah nodded politely as she handed off the sheet of paper to the surprised-looking man, spun, and nodded her head directionally at Reznik. 

Well, fuck. He looks stunned! 

I don’t think he even knew that was a law.

Reznik began thinking in clear sentences as he felt Zarah’s presence settle back into his mind. More and more, it felt like she was carving out a part of his mental bunker that could reasonably be called her own. 

Like a friend visiting your home, and sitting in the same chair they always did. To the point that it became “their” chair. 

“Hmm yes, well, that surprised expression you’re thinking of is probably because most of the peasant folk aren’t really educated on the tax laws of the kingdom. Tax assessors simply show up around the same time every year, tell them what they owe, and leave - that’s usually that.” Zarah thought at him as they made their way out of a wooden gate at the edge of the property. “Thankfully, the number of undead he saw ties in nicely with the number of grave robbings reported so far. And, apparently the pigs didn’t go entirely quietly - some of those shreds on the ground were from one of the undead.”

Zarah glanced over her shoulder, grunted, and continued aloud in a quiet, conversational tone, apparently confident that they were out of earshot. 

“I can track the undead that left it behind, though without much precision. The general direction, and square kilometer or four.” Zarah patted the pouch the talisman had been placed in and pointed up to a series of distant foothills. “The undead we’re looking for, they went that way. The question I have is whether their source is that direction too, or if they’re just mindlessly wandering from place to place, snacking opportunistically.”

The same whiffs of red smoke that had exited the talisman were now coming through the gaps in the pouch, being blown by an unfelt wind around Zarah and towards where she aimed her finger. 

That looks… far. 

Like a day or more of walking, if we take breaks. 

Which I’m assuming you need. You do need to eat and sleep right?

“I think you’re somewhat right - it’ll take a good bit of time to follow them. If they were nearby, the guard patrols likely would’ve come across them by now.” Zarah explained as she clearly caught the drift of his thoughts. “Given the circumstances, I would probably try to send a message to Luminita, let her know that we won’t be back for a night or two. 

“However, I don’t think that’s necessary.” 

Zarah lifted a finger and pointed off to a small flock of crows sitting on the lowest branches of a clump of trees beside the road. 

Reznik felt Zarah’s presence leaving his mind abruptly as she halted mid-step and watched the birds with a flat expression. 

“Are you normal crows, or do you serve that strange god that Luminita worships so fervently?” Zarah questioned with a slight teasing edge to her tone. 

The closest bird cocked its head quizzically, cawed once, then took off, flying over Reznik’s head. 

Zarah watched it go with a concerned frown before grunting and turning back to the other birds. 

I… was that important? 

Like the one that brought me to you guys?

Zarah sighed deeply and began to walk forward again. 

“We should go. If for no other reason than the fact that flocks of birds whose minds are shut to me is… disconcerting.” 

Zarah’s presence settled back into its place in his mind once again as they continued down the road, and Reznik could feel something unusual. Emotion was bleeding through the connection.

A twinge of frustration, almost like a wafting scent from an adjacent room. 

On top of that, there was also a touch of fear. 

“These damned birds. They won’t leave Luminita alone, even in the middle of the night.” Zarah groused telepathically, sending him a mental image of a dark ceiling accompanied by loud, squawking noises. “I’ve lost count of the number of times they’ve appeared in the wee hours, shouting away until she wakes and opens the shutters to shoo them away. 

“Some of them I can read their thoughts. Others are closed to me. The ones that I -can- understand all seem to want to pay her tribute. Like she’s some kind of avian royalty. 

“And it’s not even simply corvids anymore! Yesterday there was a goose honking at her window!”

Reznik listened to Zarah’s mental tirade, hoping to hide the amused nature of his thoughts as they went. 

Oh, I remember hearing that from downstairs. 

I was trying to read that book you left on the kitchen table, and thought we might’ve just had a flock that landed out in the street. 

We didn’t really get large birds that often in the wasteland, so I couldn’t be sure. 

Zarah’s head turned back and forth like it was on a swivel, her expression looking agitated as she eyed the company of birds that sat on the lower branches beside the road. 

“Honestly, that girl needs to start talking to that god of hers. Whatever spirit it is that owns the birds of this part of the world. I tried to talk to one of the birds around the Inquisition’s office the other day, and just ended up looking like a madwoman.” Zarah informed him, sending him small mental flashes of odd stares from passers by. “One second I could read its thoughts, the next it was like a wall was formed. 

“The wall felt like the necklaces the royal family wear to keep telepaths out of their heads. Whatever that god is, it won’t talk to me, and there’s a part of Luminita’s mind that I also can’t access, at least, not without risking her sanity.” 

Several hours later as dusk settled in, Zarah and him stood at the base of a towering craggy foothill that climbed skyward at nearly a forty-five degree angle. With a grimace and a long-suffering sigh, she pulled out the small wooden talisman from the pouch on her hip and stared at it before looking back up the slope. 

“Well. At least this can confirm my suspicions that we have a necromancer. Undead don’t usually go uphill unless they’re chasing prey, or under the control of some higher power.” Zarah offered in a tone that held an edge of frustration. “Ahhh, there go my hopes of not having to climb a mountain today.”

I mean, we could always just go around. 

We’ve been following that trinket for a while now, I’m sure a little deviation wouldn’t hurt. 

It’s not like there’s just an army of undead milling aimlessly around the top of the plateau.

Reznik conjured the somewhat amusing image of a shambling horde milling about the top of the mountain ahead of him, bumbling and stumbling into one another as they walked up to the edge, reconsidered the idea of tumbling off of the short cliff, and randomly selecting a new fruitless direction to amble in. 

It was a lifestyle he was intimately familiar with. 

In the past, it had been his - absent of people to consume. 

Zarah giggled brightly, glancing back at him with with a lopsided smirk. 

“No, I imagine there isn’t anything like that waiting for us up there. However, these hills are full of caves and hidden cuts that would make for a serviceable necromancer’s camp. Which means, we get to follow the path it sets for us.” 

Zarah clucked her tongue and climbed up a short terrace in the hillside. 

“And that means up.” 

Revenant's Resolve Chapter 21

“That was… an impressive fight, Reznik.” Luminita broke the silence she’d kept on the carriage ride home with a deep breath. “I… I thought for sure you were going to kill Sir Botezatu at the end, there.”

Well.

I almost did. 

Apparently, even with as much control as I’ve gained over my body, the brakes still need some work.

Reznik’s replying thoughts were almost conversational, like he was speaking directly back to Luminita. 

Unfortunately, Zarah was not present, having been pulled away by the Prince for a discussion that would take at least an hour. That meant that there wasn’t anyone present to read his thoughts and act as a mouthpiece on his behalf. 

So, in lieu of being able to string together a reply, Reznik simply nodded slowly. 

“But… you didn’t. You stopped when I shouted.” Luminita observed slowly, nodding her head sideways as she continued to stare at Reznik’s feet on the bottom of the carriage. 

Mmm, I don’t know about that. 

I think it might’ve helped, though. A distraction that was just enough to break the momentum I’d gained up until then. 

I was also trying to get my body to stop, but it just wouldn’t listen. 

“Does that mean you stopped because of me? Because I wanted you to?” 

Reznik paused, considering how best to answer the question. 

He hadn’t stopped purely because of Luminita, nor had she really been a thought at the time. However, her shout did seem to have a physical effect on him, and could easily be lumped in with everything he’d done to force the breaks on his pain train. 

Additionally, he was hungry, and being nice to Luminita usually resulted in food and/or storytime.

Slowly, Reznik nodded. 

"I thought so.” Luminita’s smile grew incrementally brighter as she leaned back against the wall of the carriage. She seemed to wriggle contentedly deeper into her seat before adding: “I’ve been thinking I should make spiced brisket for dinner tonight. I already have the spices rubbed in and everything. It seems like it would be a nice reward for your win.” 

Reznik wasn’t entirely sure what brisket was, but if Luminita was cooking it, he was sure it would be phenomenal. 

What Reznik wasn’t prepared for was the agonizing hunger he felt at the slow-cooked, abundantly fragrant meat and spices that came from the oven as he waited for Luminita to finish. The fight had left him ravenously hungry, and all the smells did was further drive the feeling of a stake piercing his abdomen to maddening levels. 

Just as Reznik’s hold on his sanity felt like it was about to break, he heard the distinct sound of the front door opening.

Turning where he stood beside the table, Reznik saw Zarah standing in the doorway blinking in an odd, stuttering way as if she’d just been hit by a blinding light. 

“Gods, Luminita, did you use the entire spice cabinet?” Zara blinked again before coughing once and shaking her head. “It smells like a Tursijj bazaar in here.”

“Not the whole spice cabinet, but I did use a good bit of the ones in there for the rub! It’s an old recipe my mother taught me.” Luminita replied cheerily as Zarah shook her head further before closing the door behind her. “It was something we only really had on special occasions, or when my father could talk the butcher into a good deal.” 

“Mmn, well. Reznik, in two days, the royal family will be holding court. Our presence, both you and I is… strongly requested.” Zarah frowned and took in a deep inhale as she moved to sit down at the table before continuing: “The Prince was resoundingly impressed with your performance in the duel earlier, and made a point to stress how much he wishes to see what you can do for the kingdom by my side. 

“With the reputation that Revenants have, it’s no surprise, really. What is a surprise, to myself at least, is what we’re going to be doing for the foreseeable future.” Zarah scratched idly at a small scar on the underside of her lip as she stared unblinkingly at the table. “Apparently, there’s been some tomfoolery with graveyards around the city, and the rumor mill is hard at work spinning tales of a Bessarban necromancer trying to wreak havoc on the country.

“It looks like we might get personally assigned to put them to rest, either through investigation or force.” 

Neat. 

But… where do I come in? 

I’m not exactly subtle in this armor.

An investigation doesn’t sound exactly like something I would be suited for.

Reznik imagined himself hunched over, loudly crouchwalking through a wide open, dark alley as he tried to follow a set of muddy tracks

Zarah snorted and looked up at him with a bemused grin. 

“Well. As much as I’m sure you’ve grown attached to that suit of armor, if there is any sneaking of us required it won’t be happening with you in full plate. Honestly, the best way to sneak around a city like this is by pretending to be a vagrant or day-laborer.” Zarah’s grin took on a small, malicious edge a moment later. “And I know how well you can pull off the whole ‘insane vagrant that smells like body odor and month-old sewage’ spiel.” 

Hey.

I like to think I’ve turned over a new leaf. 

Besides, I’m far less insane than I once was - I haven’t eaten a human in weeks!

Or an Elf. 

Or even a… what the hell are those spider people that Vezemir was? 

“Oh, if only it were that easy to be considered sane.” Zarah quipped as Luminita opened the oven, releasing a practical torrent of wonderful smells into the room. 

As Reznik ate dinner with the pair, he recognized the taste of the meat. 

It was the same as what Luminita had left as an offering in the woods after he’d rescued her. 

The thought behind it, that it was a special meal left Reznik feeling warmth in his heart, even as the message failed to reach his body, who simply guzzled the meal down as if it were nothing more than a common breakfast. 

She cooks for us all the time. 

I should find a way to properly thank her. 

Maybe talk Zarah into a nice night where she doesn’t have to cook. 

That would be nice, I think. 

*

Reznik waited for the gate guard to finish searching him for weapons, staring up and marveling at the towering walls of the central keep. 

Zarah had turned over her pistol but was allowed to keep the sword belted at her waist, and now stood several feet ahead of Reznik, patiently waiting with her hands interlocked behind her back. 

She also wore a light grey tabbard over her dark grey overcoat, the same one she’d put him in before they’d left. 

It was unlike many of the similar garments he’d seen in and around the castle, all of which were decorated with elegant filigree and opulent crests emblazoned in the fabric. 

Zarah’s by contrast, was strikingly spartan. 

There was no motto, no artistic designs of great creatures. 

Instead, the only embroidery was solitary black eye, surrounded by half a dozen ears. 

“You’re free to enter, sir.” The guard instructed, waving his hand dismissively towards Zarah and the open front doors of the castle, having finished searching Reznik for weapons. 

Reznik felt no small amount of amusement that the fact he was a Revenant in a full suit of plate armor wasn’t considered a weapon, but he wouldn’t say anything to that effect to the man who had already turned to search the next party of nobles trying to gain entry into the castle. 

Well.

I guess I’m moving up in the world. 

 Zarah gave him a curt nod and a flat smile as he fell in beside her, approaching the palatial banded oak doors at a fast walk. 

She’d given him many instructions on how to act while here, both on the way in and at her townhome. 

It all boiled down to acting like wallpaper. 

Stay by her side, stay silent, and most importantly, stay out of other peoples way. 

She’d also fed him one of the largest breakfasts he’d had yet, all in the hopes that he could behave and control himself without risk. 

Climbing the steps, Reznik panned his head from left to right, eying the number of guards standing rigidly on the steps, and the many weapons they carried. 

“Did I ever tell you how much I dislike events like this?” Zarah whispered from beside him as they entered the receiving hall, which already had several groups of finery-laden people that Reznik could only interpret as other nobles. 

Quite a few times just on the way over, actually. 

“Well, you’re about to find out why. Everything’s a pissing contest, a veiled threat, or a backhanded insult.” 

A man stepped out from a group of chattering people dressed in fine silks and gold - or more accurately, slithered, heading towards them at a pace comparable to a fast walk. 

“Oh there you are, Dame Bukewicz! How are you? It’s been too long…” the man greeted with a plainly fake smile and a tone that sent a shiver up Reznik’s spine. “I was worried that something had happened out there after you weren’t present at the last few royal addresses.” 

“Wonderful seeing you as well, Lord Sarpe,” Zarah greeted the half-man, half-serpent politely with a small curtsy. “And I’m sorry to worry you - I have been on several expeditions, and a brief foray on campaign to rescue some border settlements the past year or so. My time has been monopolized by duty, I’m afraid.”

“Ah, that would explain your recent absence.” Lord Sarpe scratched at his jaw thoughtfully before adding with a slimy smile: “However, it doesn’t quite explain why you haven’t responded to any of the letters and missives my cousin has sent you. He’s most anxious and hopeful for your reply!” 

“Ah, I -did- receive them, Lord. I’m afraid I just haven’t had time or confidence enou-“

“Nonsense!” Lord Sarpe interrupted with a dismissive wave of his hand and a hint of a scowl coloring his smile. “I’m afraid you’ve struck quite the impression on him, and he’s not willing to let you slip out of his grasp, Inquisitor. 

“He’s… well, I guess you could say he’s positively smitten with you.” Sarpe finished with a pleased smile, staring down at Zarah with an eyebrow raised. Then, he turned fractionally to Reznik, narrowing both his eyelids and his slit-like pupils. 

“Perhaps this is why you haven’t replied to his attempts at courtship? You’ve taken a lover?” 

“Oh, Reznik?” Zarah asked, nodding her head at him. “Well, I’d be lying if I said that he hasn’t grown on me since our introduction, however, the reason I haven’t returned your cousin’s contact is because I don’t feel the same way. 

“He’s a fine man, and certainly one of the premier eligible bachelors in Bratsow, however, I’m afraid he simply hasn’t captivated my attention - as I’ve told you before.” 

“And -I’m- afraid that simply won’t do.” Lord Sarpe’s tone abruptly went flat and cold, though his polite smile remained. “Now, I have a great many men at my command, and I could simply levy challenges at your… consort here until the day that you formally engage my cousin, if you like.”

Oh. 

Can I kill him now? 

That sounded an awful lot like a challenge! I dislike him, and I bet he can’t fight half as well as Botezatu. 

“You are… welcome to try.” Zarah offered, her tone unchanged from before - polite and conversational, as if completely unbothered by Lord Sarpe’s ill-veiled threats. “Though, I worry for the embarrassment that could cause - how many of your ‘best’ fighters would my man-at-arms here have to tear limb from limb before you conclude that my hand isn’t worth a hundred of theirs?” 

“Fantastic confidence. We’ll see how long that lasts.” Lord Sarpe nodded politely at Zarah, shot Reznik a scowl, then turned and returned to his group of nobles, who had been overtly watching the byplay. 

“I was honest about him being a nice enough man, I just… I just can’t get over the idea of twin, prehensile cocks.” Zarah offered from inside his head as she began to walk forward again. “More power to whatever woman wants that in her bed, but I find that my desire for mechanical equipment is far more in-line with my own race. I only have one hole that needs filled, and besides, my work takes up far too much of my time - not to mention, I have no intention of ever being a mere housewife to a count.”

Reznik thought a moment on the idea, shuddered at the idea of two dicks that could move independently, and mentally agreed with Zarah. 

Completely understandable, actually. 

I honestly wonder what I’d do in your shoes. 

It seems like your not-so-secret admirer has powerful friends. 

“Well. It seems the clarity of your thoughts is steadily improving - I actually understood most of that.” Zarah noted with an amused edge to her telepathic tone. “And yes - he does have some powerful backing. Unfortunately, he’s been leveraging that to try and pressure me into joining his gaggle of sycophants.

“But that’s a story for another time. We should take our seats for the address.”

Deftly, Zarah weaved between the grouped throngs of people dressed in the colors of their various noble houses deeper into the front hall before they went through another smaller-but-still-massive set of banded-oak doors. 

Reznik followed several steps behind her as she led him to the middle outside edge of the rows of resplendently-upholstered pews. She took the seat closest to the edge, and gestured for him to sit beside her. 

While he attempted to sit down slowly and carefully, his body seemed wan to comply, and instead flopped into the pew with a resounding thud and creak of wood that echoed around the great hall. 

Well…

Shit.

Looks like I still need to get used to the weight of this armor. 

Zarah snorted once, then coughed as she slowly shook her head.

“Subtle.” She quipped, flicking her eyes over to him, then back to the front. 

In front of the rows of pews stood a raised dais with two opulent red velvet futons. 

There wasn’t a throne in a traditional sense, but given what Reznik had seen of Prince Vezemir, he wouldn’t be able to use one regardless. 

A fancy futon made of the plushest and softest material would suit his needs far better. 

Zarah leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, calmly awaiting whatever they were there to do. 

“Ahh… you know, I’ve found these audiences a little boring. Especially when there’s no one to have genuinely good conversation with.” Zarah offered quietly beside Reznik, tilting her head fractionally towards him.

“I imagine you will too… so, let’s see if there’s anything interesting happening around the castle.” Zarah continued her conversation from inside of Reznik’s head. 

Abruptly, Reznik’s mind was filled with internal monologues, snide thoughts, and lurid imagery of people in the room. 

All of them felt garbled, scrambling over one another like a tumultuous river current of a hundred different subconscious thought trains before it focused in on one mental voice. 

Then the voice became an image, playing through the back of his eyes like vivid imagination, but somehow more tangible. 

Reznik watched through the eyes of someone unknown as Prince Vezemir argued with a woman inside of a large antechamber, who shared his spider-like appearance. 

Though the woman was taller, with a far larger spider abdomen than him with starkly brighter colors. A bright golden yellow contrasted with stark, almost-iridescent black stripes that ran up the center of her abdomen to her back, fading almost imperceptibly into her dress-like silken black shirt.

“My son, taking on direct control of a campaign is an undertaking far more suited for one of our generals. Risking yourself, even proximally to the front lines is simply asinine.” Vezemir’s mother advised in a calm, assertive tone. “I simply cannot allow it.” 

“It doesn’t matter what you think, mother.” Prince Vezemir snapped back in an acidic tone, pulling a black and red dress coat over his vibrantly dark silken undershirt. “I will be taking the throne as early as the second summer from now. We have some of the best officers on the continent, and our infantry vastly outclasses the Bessarbans.

“I doubt I will be at any real risk, and even if I am, Captain Harvish and my royal guard will easily decimate any saboteurs and assassins that might make it near me.”

“You’ve never shown any desire to take the field before, Vezemir. Why have you so suddenly woken up this morning and proclaimed that you’re going to announce extra levies and go lead the army from the front?” Vezemir’s mother’s voice held an edge to it, despite its soft and warm overtone. 

“Oh. That’s not good.” Zarah noted in Reznik’s head as he observed the private byplay. “I was hoping he wouldn’t do something stupid like that. Even for a noble, Vezemir has a wonderful understanding of economics and statesmanship, but I doubt he truly can comprehend life at the front.”

So…

What, then? 

Is there something we can do to help? Talk him out of it?

“I don’t believe we can help, no, if that’s what you’re thinking. He gets his stubborn streak from his mother.” 

“Great leaders are made in times of trial, mother. My father was a great leader, unifying our lands even as Prussany tried to twist their iron tendrils into us, just as they do again.” Vezemir answered resolutely after a long, thoughtful pause. “I must follow in his footsteps. If breaking Bessarba over my proverbial knee is what it takes to return a measure of stability, then so be it.” 

The Queen Regent took in a long, calm breath as she clearly pondered the best way to respond to her son’s words. 

“Vezemir, I care for you dearly, much as I loved your father. But he was a vastly different man from you.” She began to explain with clearly ever-fraying patience. “He was born into a land of warlords and collapse. He grew up on campaign, leading soldiers. 

“You’ve grown up in the safety of a castle. Long after the bloodshed of your father’s youth. If you are so confident in our army’s ability to quash the Bessarbans, then let our generals and nobles do what they are paid and duty-bound to do.

“The front line is not your plac-“

“What? Because I’m a child to you? Because I lack some esoteric, made-up knowledge on war that can only be learned through years of trial and error?” the Prince cut off his mother’s speech with a harsh, biting tone, spinning abruptly to glower at her. The pedipalps on the front of his body that looked vaguely like a pair of human legs briefly lashed before demurely folding again. “You want to know what I think, -mother-? I think you simply don’t wish to cede the throne to your son until after you’ve left this life, and you’re using some ill-founded notion of inexperience to justify your plan. 

“I think you crave the spoils of absolute power so much that you would spite your own son his inheritance.” 

Vezemir’s mother took in a long, sharp inhale of breath as Vezemir brushed forcefully past her, storming out of the room with clattering footfalls. 

The image being beamed into Reznik’s mind abruptly cut off as Zarah sighed deeply and shook her head. 

In the time that she’d been exploring the minds of others with him, the great hall had quickly filled with people, both seated and standing. There were even nobles seated beside Reznik, clearly trying to watch him inconspicuously. 

“Those in attendance will be seated and be silent!” a thundering voice echoed through the hall, silencing the din of conversation with an accompanying crack of halberd on floor. “Presenting their royal majesty’s, Queen Dzvina Albescu, and Crown Prince Vezemir Albescu!”

The door beside the armed, armored herald was opened by two royal guardsmen, allowing Prince Vezemir to exit and make his way to the dais. 

Despite his earlier anger, Vezemir’s face was a mask of calm. He walked up to his futon on the right side of the dais, and lowered himself down onto the plush fabric. 

Several long moments later, and he was followed out by another. 

Reznik hadn’t gotten a good look at Vezemir’s mother through the eyes of the man that Zarah had hijacked, but still hadn’t expected to be surprised. 

The woman who followed Vezemir was dressed entirely in black silks, with silver jewelry so finely crafted that it appeared to almost be a jewel-studded metal lace clasped around her neck. 

The queen also observed the room with six almost-luminescent blue eyes - a stark contrast to the Prince’s measly two resoundingly-human brown ones. 

Her face also seemed crafted by the finest painter, with high, sharp cheekbones and full, red lips atop olive-toned skin. 

The Queen’s starkly pale blonde hair was equally as elegant as the rest of her outfit, being artfully woven into a tight bun from which dangled more silver jewelry. 

It gave the woman who ruled the land an entirely alien appearance. 

As if she simply didn’t belong with the common rabble on virtue of presence alone, not to mention her position as a head of state. 

“Thank you, chamberlain.” Dzvina nodded respectfully at the man who had heralded their arrival after she lowered herself down onto her own futon. Then, she turned to the room with a captivating, focused stare from each pair of eyes that independently scanned the room. “I call this body to order, and greet all in attendance with thanks.”

---------------------------------------------------------
Hello everyone!
I am sorry for the lack of posts the past month, I was busy with stupid nonsense, testifying before the house judiciary committee, and helldivers!

the regular posts will now resume, and I thank you all for your patience

Revenant's Resolve Chapter 20

Botezatu stalked forward, pulling the sword’s tip free of the ground soundlessly.

“What is he, then? Some kind of Mage? A telepath friend of yours, Zarah?” the Knight demanded, glancing between Reznik and the observation box. “To merely give the facade of a trial by comb-“

“Silence, Sir Botezatu.” Prince Vezemir spoke at a volume loud enough to be heard in the arena, but without a hint of the wrath that Botezatu displayed. “Your exploits are well-known. My father spoke so highly of you, and so I have set before you someone I hope will be your equal in combat. A… test, I suppose you could say.

“The aging Eastern Shield himself versus a man who threatens to take that accolade as his own mantle.”

“May the gods watch over your father’s soul, Prince.” Botezatu briefly closed his eyes before smirking and adding far quieter: “At least he wouldn’t have allowed this farce under his rule - he even kept your mother in line.”

“ENOUGH!” Vezemir roared, slamming his fists against the wooden wall of the box. “Botezatu! You allowed a Revenant to walk free in our lands - a beast you are sworn to kill on sight, still at large! Were it anyone else in my entire kingdom, I would have them hung from the walls of the keep!

“Your honor and your experience are what has earned you this bout to prove your innocence, along with my own personal gratitude. I pray that if there were anyone in my lands with the sense to bend the right rules, that they stand in my presence right now.

“My mother wanted you flayed alive! I sacrificed another half-year until I ascend to the throne to have you here under -my- judgment today.”

Botezatu stared up at the box with a resolute, stony expression. Most of the previous wrath painted there had either been hidden, or fled upon Prince Vezemir’s explanation.

“I… see. So be it, then.” Botezatu gulped and nodded solemnly, the sword’s tip bouncing once from where it pointed at the ground.

Then, he looked back to Reznik, lifted the sword in front of his face, and flicked the blade back out again.

Oh hell…

Reznik stood motionless, trying to decide on a course of action.

Something, anything that would stand a reasonable chance of sparing him his life, Sir Botezatu’s, and the two women in the stand next to the Prince.

Botezatu also appeared to be considering him curiously, with a noticeable tilt to his head.

“Strong, silent type, mh?” Botezatu quirked a brow at Reznik that held a hint of humor.

Reznik, devoid of any other reply, simply nodded.

What can I say?

It’s kind of my -thing- by now.

“I like that in a sparring partner. Most nobles won’t shut the hell up.” The corner of Botezatu’s lip quirked up as the faintest indent of crows' feet formed around his eyes.

Then, he struck.

With speed that felt inhuman, Botezatu crossed the short distance between them, dodged under Reznik’s instinctive haymaker, and plunged his sword to the hilt through a gap in the armor of Reznik’s side.

With a spin, Botezatu ripped the sword free and sprang out to Reznik’s right.

Before he could realign his thoughts, Reznik was already following the man with a wrath-filled roar.

He closed the distance, swinging out in an attempt to likely grab Botezatu’s skull and crush it between his hands. Instead, Botezatu smacked the flat of his blade against Reznik’s armored wrists with enough force to send his arms whipping around the opposite direction.

As Botezatu bounded back, Reznik finally managed to wrangle control of his body again - demanding that it stop for a second and let him think.

No!

We can’t kill him, not yet!

He doesn’t deserve it! If he does, then so do those two up there!

“I admire your fortitude. Takes a tough man to get ran through and go on the offensive!” Botezatu praised, circling around behind Reznik as Reznik followed the man with his head and eyes. “What are you? Orc? Dragonnewt?”

Nope! Try again!

Now… how in the fuck do I keep you alive through this?

Wait - are all duels to the death?

The king didn’t say this was to the death, just trial by combat!

Maybe I ca-

Reznik’s thoughts were interrupted by a lightning fast overhead swing by Botezatu that he managed to block with the steel gauntlets on his wrist at the last possible second. Then, without hesitation, Reznik’s opponent yanked the blade back from Reznik’s crossed forearms and deftly brought the tip up and under one of the plates on Reznik’s chest.

Likely, if he were still human, it would’ve torn through his heart, or at least mangled a lung.

Unfortunately for Botezatu, the well-executed maneuver did not go in his favor.

Instead, Reznik grabbed Botezatu’s forearms, howled, and attempted to bite off Botezatu’s face.

Which, because of the helmet, ended up with a remarkably powerful headbut that earned a crunch from Botezatu’s nose.

With a short grunt, Botezatu scrambled back, holding a hand to his nose with a pain-filled wince.

Reznik gnashed his teeth, ripping free the sword still buried in his chest with a rasping shriek, before flinging it off to the side.

Wait!

Hold!

I know you want to eat him but we literally can’t right now!

Botezatu’s eyes followed the sword through the air before it landed in the dirt on the side of the arena that Reznik had entered from.

They landed back on Reznik with a narrow stare as Botezatu slowed his breathing and righted his posture. The former Riverguard commander glanced up to the stands, blew out a spray of blood from one nostril, and smiled grimly.

“Fitting.” Botezatu began to chuckle darkly, slowly fading into a deep sigh. “I am to die by the consequences of my own actions, then.

“You’ve come a long way since that jail cell, haven’t you, Revenant?”

Botezatu smiled grimly, then pinched his nose and pushed it sideways with an audible pop before slowly walking to where his sword had fallen.

Ah. Good, he recognizes me!

Deeply, Reznik hoped that now that Botezatu understood what he was up against, and that a resolution ending with both of them alive and whole could be found.

“I told you once that I’ve fought several of your kin before. Killed them too.” Botezatu explained calmly, picking up his sword. “And that I couldn’t promise your safety after the battle - that someone may force my hand.

“I don’t know if you can feel pain, but I will still do my best to make it quick.”

Oh, fuck, he recognizes me.

Botezatu didn’t waste any more words, sprinting across the distance between them, bringing his sword down over his head with enough force to whistle the tip.

Reznik attempted to block, but right before he expected to feel the rattling impact of his opponent’s blade, it instead slammed into a gap in his hip armor. The blade bit into the leather underneath, cutting a short distance into Reznik’s skin as Botezatu ripped the weapon back, dodged underneath Reznik’s swung fist, and then slammed the hilt of the weapon into Reznik’s helmet.

The vicious attack sent Reznik stumbling forward, confused as to how the old man could move so fast.

Before he’d had time to process, Reznik felt the impact of the sword behind his left knee, glancing off of his shoulder, and then plunging deep into his back.

It was ripped free a moment later, and Reznik barely had enough time to raise his hands when the blade was placed against his neck and Botezatu began to pull back.

Reznik had managed to grip the sword on its blade with his thick leather gloves, fighting against Botezatu’s attempt to shear off his head. Or at least through his throat.

Fuck!

Botezatu I really don’t want to kill you!

Fine, we’ll do this again.

Reznik’s body let loose another wild howl and pushed the blade forward, overpowering Botezatu’s strength at the same time as Reznik slammed his head back into what he hoped was Botezatu’s nose. After moving, the blade gave an inch, Reznik suddenly found himself pushing against empty air as his opponent dropped the blade and kicked him roughly on his back.

Reznik dropped it and scrambled to his feet, spinning wildly on Botezatu, who watched him with a curious expression.

“I must hand it to Zarah, the armor does make this problem a lot harder to solve.” Botezatu mused gruffly, snorting in through his nose and blowing a wad of bloody phlegm out through his mouth. “Normally, I would just cut off all your limbs, then your head, and then burn everything to ash. But that’s not really an option, now, is it?”

Alright.

So we beat him within an inch of his life.

Until he capitulates or can’t move.

The we hope Zarah can negotiate for Botezatu’s release.

He glanced a moment up to the box and found that Zarah was already arguing in a hushed, harsh whisper with Vezemir.

Vezemir, for his part, continued to watch the spectacle before him with an unbothered, intrigued expression.

Then, Botezatu began his attack again, walking calmly towards Reznik with an unreadable expression.

Reznik attempted to strike first, leaping forward at Botezatu as he brought his armored hand down in a wild slash aimed for Botezatu’s head.

Botezatu narrowly avoided it, bouncing to the side in a lightning-fast dash that left Reznik spinning to try and find him again.

Only, Botezatu had begun to sprint directly for the sword that Reznik had pulled free from him earlier.

On instinct, Reznik pursued his prey as Botezatu slid to a stop, grabbed the sword, and curled into a ball.

As Reznik leapt upon Botezatu, he found the pommel of the man’s longsword slammed into his gut, and instead of taking the former knight to the ground, Reznik was carried by his momentum forward into a flopping roll.

“You need finesse!” Botezatu growled as his blade darted out at Reznik’s arm while he was pushing himself up to his feet.

It clanged off of Reznik’s gauntlet harmlessly, but it did knock his arm out of balance enough that Reznik stumbled to find his balance.

Gotta get some breathing room!

Jump!

Go backwards! Or forwards!

Just away!

Reznik’s body sprang nearly ten feet into the air as it leapt abruptly backward, having just barely enough footing to do so. Landing with a dense thud, Reznik found Botezatu approaching him quickly, but with a faint limp in his right leg.

“Let’s put an end to this, shall we?”

Agreed.

Attack the sword, not him.

If we remove the weapon, we can just take him to the ground, and end the fight quickly.

Use that finesse he mentioned.

Then, Reznik shoved the idea at his body.

At the same moment as Botezatu came into range, whipping his sword around to bite at Reznik’s neck, Reznik sprang forward, bringing his left hand down at Botezatu’s face.

Botezatu attempted to dodge to the side, but only ended up leaping into Reznik’s outstretched right arm. Botezatu’s sword still clanged off of Reznik’s pauldron, but Reznik gripped the back of Botezatu’s coat with his right hand and wrenched back, effectively slamming Botezatu against his chest plate.

Then, with a shriek, Reznik threw Botezatu to the ground, following him with a raised fist.

Finesse!

Only hit him with a quarter of our strength!

Reznik felt the moment that Botezatu’s jaw crunched under his knuckles.

Then he felt one of Botezatu’s ribs crack as he brought a blow down there a moment later, followed by a deep wheeze from from his opponent.

That’s enough!

“NO!” Reznik heard the feminine scream a moment later as his body wrapped its hands together and prepared to stave in Botezatu’s chest.

With a mental push that felt like him bringing a sledge down on his own body, Reznik tried to halt the attack.

Almost to his own surprise, his body moved a moment longer, then froze stock-still, arms midway into the killing blow.

Whew. That was close.

Botezatu made a small groaning noise before his eyes rolled back into his skull and he stopped moving. With that finished, Reznik looked up to the viewing box to find Luminita leaned over the parapet, watching with wide fear-filled eyes.

Reznik also noted the unusually high number of crows in the air. And on the walls of the arena.

And also the ground around Reznik.

All were focused on him with rapt attention.

More unsettlingly, they all remained perfectly silent. Which, as far as Reznik understood, was not something this many crows did often.

Or ever.

In the silence, Prince Vezemir began to clap slowly, rising out of his seat to also lean over the edge.

“Well done!” Vezemir laughed with a bright smile on his face. “Oh, very well done! I was at the edge of my seat the entire time! Now, I think you’ve earned a reward, friend! Feel free to enjoy a meal, if you like!”

Prince Vezemir waved a hand at Reznik, glancing downward to the unconscious man beneath him, much to Luminita’s clear horror.

“Pri-“ Luminita began, but was cut off by a wave of the Prince’s hand.

“Silence, please.” Vezemir smiled in a flat, polite way that felt out of place with the scene before him.

Luminita looked to Zarah, who also shot her a glare that seemed to go on a moment too long.

Those two are up to something…

Zarah probably just said something in Luminita’s head… but what? And why isn’t she speaking to me?

“So go then. Feast upon your vanquished if you so desire!” Vezemir presented with a pride-filled grin.

Something about it didn’t feel right.

If I so desire?

Well, as hungry as I suddenly find myself - I don’t.

Get me a steak, a dead deer, even a convicted murder, maybe… but not Botezatu.

Slowly, Reznik shook his head side to side.

The Prince raised a brow curiously, leaning forward against a small crenelation.

“And why not?” Vezemir demanded, resting his jaw on the palm of his hand. “The man just clearly tried to kill you, after all. He’s also killed a number of your race. If you hadn’t pulled that little switch-up at the end, you would likely be quartered and burning to death right now.

“I know you’ve also eaten men before, so why is it such a problem all of a sudden? Ah, does my presence make you squeamish?”

The Prince’s glare was intense as he waited for Reznik’s reply.

Come on Zarah…

Get in my head!

Translate for me, please!

Reznik turned his head and stared at Zarah with a pleading hope.

“Ah-ah, not you.” Vezemir lifted a waggling finger and turned his head fractionally back to the telepath. “Revenants do not speak. They do not hold compassion, or kindness.  That is reserved for Men alone.

“I wish to hear his reasoning, simple as it may be from his own lips. If he fails, I will have my guard and Captain Harvish kill them both.”

From my own lips.

Fuck.

Goddamnit.

Reznik knew what he would have to do. He would have to speak. And not something simple, intuitive such as his own name.

He would have to put together a semi-complete sentence.

Something understandable, otherwise this would have been for nothing.

I really should’ve just stayed in the wastes.

Damnit.

Okay.

I know I’m hungry, but this is something that needs to be done.

Reznik took in a deep breath, closed his eyes, and focused his will into pointing his finger down at Botezatu.

Gradually, twitchingly, his pinkie, thumb, ring, and middle finger curled inward to the palm, leaving only his index extended.

Slowly, it lowered down until he was more or less lined up with Botezatu’s bleeding nose.

He’s a friend!

A good man, damnit!

“Ff-ff-ff…” his lips curled and sputtered as Vezemir tilted his head and put a finger to his ear.

FRIEND!

“FF-rr-end. Frrrreen.” Reznik managed to get out the word with considerable effort.

He protects the Kingdom! Protects you!

He nearly died to protect the citizens of Carcal!

He fought to keep everyone safe from the Bessarbans.

“Pp-pp-ro Tekt.” Reznik continued to stutter wildly, and hoped he would at least be partially understandable at this distance. “Aaa-ll”

“Oh my… Are you saying we have this all wrong, servant?” Vezemir questioned almost rhetorically, presentingly as if there were an audience around them. “That your good -friend-, Sir Botezatu, clearly recognized that the thing in his cell was not in fact, a Revenant, but something completely unknown from the southern wastes? And that while his decision was hasty, he did it to protect his citizens and the kingdom as a whole?”

Reznik’s train of thought caught for a moment as he tried to put together just what the Prince was up to.

Slowly, he nodded.

“Well, that is most interesting! You see, master, oh- what was your name again?” Vezemir questioned after Reznik finished nodding, again leaning his ear forward.

With a mental sigh, and another thrust against his psyche, Reznik pushed his own name towards his lips.

“Rrrreeznik.”

“Ah, that’s right, Master Reznik! So terribly rude of me to forget.” Prince Vezemir waved a dismissive hand and smiled politely at nothing. “You see, your benefactor, my head Inquisitor, Zarah informed me that you were a Revenant.

“Clearly both she and Sir Botezatu were woefully mistaken by your appearance and personal manner. Obviously, you are no Revenant! Revenants do not speak or make friends, least of all with those duty-bound to end their existence!”

I…

That’s actually not an unfair stance to take, really.

I hardly resemble what I was just two months ago - I mean, fuck, I haven’t eaten a person in over three weeks now!

No more mindless violence either.

Reznik saw the validity in Vezemir’s train of thought, but also how he was bending the letter of whatever law was in place in his, Zarah’s, and Botezatu’s favor.

“Now, we’re no strangers to strange new things here in Wallach. I mean, gods above, why else would we send inquisitors into the wastes to learn anything we can?” The Prince smiled and looked for approval from Zarah, who squinted but slowly nodded along with him. “Therefore, I find Botezatu not guilty of treason, and will allow Zarah’s sponsorship of Reznik as a common citizen with a writ of royal approval.”

I… a citizen?

Does… does that mean I won’t have to hide anymore?

Or at least that I can go out sometimes?

“Now, Harvish, can you dispatch the healers for poor Sir Botezatu down there? I fear that our armored friend did not take it easy on him.” The Prince said a moment later, reminding Reznik that he was still crouched atop Botezatu’s unconscious body.

Ah. Right! I should probably exit through the door I came through, then.

And hopefully eat - I could do with a whole leg of pork right now. Or a leg of cow.

Hell, I would eat an entire live chicken if one crossed my path, feathers and all.

Revenant's Resolve Chapter 19

“I must say, your handmaiden’s cooking would be well at home with the royal chefs, Zarah.” Vezemir complimented as Luminita removed his now-cleaned plate. The youth was “seated” at the head of the table, where Zarah usually sat. Most likely, this was because he didn’t actually use a chair.

Instead, he merely lowered the underside of his spider part to the floor, and rested upon it, which from the other end of the table looked almost like he was seated.

But the silver and brown carapace also happened to extend a solid five feet behind him, well beyond the space offered by the other end.

His long, tan and brown legs also needed room to spread out to either side, so the sides of the table were out of the question as well, given that it was only as long as a man was tall.

“Though, that does beg the question; why after all these years have you taken a slave and a servant?” Vezemir tapped ponderously at his lower lip as he eyed the space above and behind Zarah. “It did come back to me that you traveled through the inner gate with a slave - though, your well-protected friend over there doesn’t exactly look like a man forcefully indentured.”

Zarah pursed her lips and leaned back in her seat as Luminita cleared her meal as well, seeming to consider Vezemir’s question. The spider-king briefly glanced over to Reznik and watched him with a set of entirely brown eyes. No sclera, pupil, or iris, just a deep, almost black earthen color.

“Perhaps I find that slaves are far more understanding when you give them chains of gold, no? That, or I just lied to the guards on the gate as to my true intentions with Reznik to avoid suspicion.” Zarah delivered a wicked smile to Vezemir before taking a deep sip of her wine.

Vezemir placed his own glass down on the table and idly ran his tongue along his upper lip as he looked from Zarah to Reznik, and back again.

“Knowing your stance on the laws of the land, my guess would be the latter.” Vezemir’s head tilted curiously to his left shoulder and his eyes narrowed. “Which means that his identity is likely a secret, or a surprise…

“And you know how much I love my secrets.”

“Then a secret you shall have. The reason why I’ve requested you here is to obtain a writ of royal authority on this matter, as… well, depending on who would find out, I might be hanged as a traitor.” Zarah pushed her seat back and stood, rubbing her hands together exuberantly as she continued in an authoritative tone; “For years, we’ve struggled with being hemmed between Prussany to our north, and the untamed, -undead- wasteland to our south.

“Dozens of necromancers have tried their hand at seizing control of the never-ending wave of undead - only to fail, and many times end up as part of the horde itself. We’ve erected forts, stood up a small army of guards specifically to handle the threat, and even partnered with our most bitter enemy over the shared bank of the river that, in reality, is our only bulwark against death itself.

“Your father employed my company of mercenaries to venture far into the wastes and find the source of the horde - we failed. In doing so, though, we learned how vulnerable the undead was to psychers and telepaths as a whole-“

“Zarah, I am well aware of our efforts in the wastes, you can spare me the grand presentation.” Vezemir offered in a warm tone that held a small edge of bite to it. “You needn’t waste both of our time.”

“Imagine my surprise when, weeks ago, the inquisition I now lead - that your father commissioned - finds something… unique in the wastes.” Zarah stopped just in front of Reznik, meeting his eyes as he stared slightly down into her eyes. Then, intuiting what she was about to do, he lifted his chin high so that Zarah could unbuckle the strap that held it to his head. “The team of Riverguard elite I led were set upon by a disconcertingly large horde of undead, but the final nail in our coffin was a Revenant the likes of which I had never seen.

“One with the spark of consciousness within it. It was dim, like a candle about to die, but something I hadn’t seen before.” Zarah unclasped the leather strap and pulled free the helmet, turning and tucking it under her arm. “I left to make my report on the failure to you and your mother, and imagine my surprise when I find that not only has this… monster followed me, but in fact is standing in defense of the town of Carcal during the Bessarban assault!”

“Forgive my intrusion, highness, Dame, but… aren’t Revenants usually uncontrollable, mindless, lumbering monstrosities?” the Captain interjected, pushing himself off of the far wall behind Vezemir and resting a hand on his saber. “Why would one be defending one of our frontier towns? Maybe it was just a case of it following you, and the Bessarbans happened to be the most plentiful food source in the area?”

“Normally, I would agree with you, Captain.” Zarah nodded understandingly at the man before tilting her head back at Reznik as if it was a pointed finger. “But I have evidence. The man behind me is named Reznik. I have spoken to him in his mind, and while there is still far to go - the four of us have been standing and dining in a room with a live, unbound Revenant for over an hour without being attacked.”

Eyes going wide, the Captain quickly drew his saber and pistol, aiming the firearm at Reznik’s head.

“And you brought it within -The Crown Prince’s- presence? Are you mad!?”

“Hold, Anato.” Vezemir quickly raised his hand and commanded quietly, but forcefully. “Now Zarah, I may not have your knowledge of the undead lands, but before me I can’t see anything that resembles a Revenant.

“All I see is a very pale vagrant posing as a man-at-arms. And while he looks remarkably intimidating, a Revenant that does not make.”

I’m sorry, vagrant?

I- okay yeah, that’s fair.

I really do need a shave, don’t I?

“So please, explain.”

“Well, in the weeks I’ve had him here, I have performed a battery of tests, both on his mind and his body.” Zarah began explaining at an increased clip compared to her previous part of the presentation, no doubt due to the King’s skepticism, and his guard’s drawn weapons. “I am led to believe that the reason why he still looks largely human is due to that spark of consciousness.

“The samples that I took from his skin continued to grow and regenerate on their own like a tumor for a long while after they were separated from him. I think that Revenants without a consciousness - a set of mental instructions on how they should regenerate often do so in the way we see everywhere else, leading to the hulking -things- we so often see.”

“Fascinating.” Vezemir’s grin grew several shades brighter before he turned to Captain Harvish with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Put those away, Captain. Like I said before, I trust Zarah implicitly, and have complete faith that if the Revenant meant us harm, both you and her would expediently deal with the threat.”

The Captain glanced over to Vezemir, who was in the process of rising to his feet with eyes wholly focused on Reznik. Then, Harvish holstered his pistol and sheathed his sword after a further moment’s hesitation.

“With protest, Prince Vezemir.”

“Noted. Now, as for whether or not I will approve his continued existence, I have one question for you, Zarah: do you intend to use him against the coming challenges of my dearest mother’s simpletons?” Vezemir asked, coming to a stop several feet in front of Reznik without breaking eye contact. The way his all-black, glassy eyes watched Reznik made him feel as if he was being sized up for a meal.

“That was a large part of my plans for him, yes. The other part has more to do with my inquisition into the undead lands. He may have important memories and knowledge we can use to effectively pacify, or even outright eliminate the undead problem outright.”

“Wonderful! I would like a… demonstration of his abilities before I wholly approve anything, however. Tomorrow, at first light, you will bring him to the Yard.” Vezemir stared down at Reznik with an unreadable smile, turning his head fractionally over his shoulder before raising a thoughtful finger. “I will arrange for one of the prisoners to have his trial by combat. I want to see just what your Revenant is capable of, and then decide his fate.”

Trial by combat?

Eh, fight is a fight.

If I’m to survive and be useful enough to be worth the risk, I’m sure that things like this will be a big part of my life going forward.

So much for that peaceful existence, eh?

* * *

Reznik would rather be walking.

Or even running.

Instead, he and Luminita were seated across from Zarah inside a carriage that rattled its way along through the pre-dawn gloom.

The suit of armor he wore added a surprising amount of bulk to Reznik, leading to the inevitable situation where Luminita was pushed up against his side in the small carriage.

Zarah’s eyes had closed nearly the instant she’d sat down, most likely due to the fact that she’d been up most of the night after Vezemir left tinkering and cursing loudly in her study. He wasn’t entirely sure what she’d been doing, but he knew it involved chemicals and glass, given the frequent clinks that emanated through the door.

And the acrid scent that had followed her out of the room when she’d gone to bed.

“I wonder what she was up to last night,” Luminita murmured from beside him, resting her head on his pauldron. “Whatever it was, she sure was frustrated. I struggled to fall asleep until well after she’d gone to bed.”

I mean… I was wondering the same thing, if I’m honest.

I just don’t have to sleep, so it’s not an issue.

I wonder, can I shrug? Is that something I can do yet?

Let’s try.

After all, she made us such a lovely breakfast - I don’t think I’ve ever seen an omlette that big before.

Pushing the idea to his body, Reznik attempted a shrug along with a quiet, unknowing grunt.

His shoulders didn’t move, but his head tilted until his ear was pinched between his head and the shoulder armor. Additionally, he did manage a small “Guhh” sound from the maneuver.

Close enough.

“Oh, hehe, was that a shrug?” Luminita quietly giggled, turning her head and smiling brightly up at him before brushing an errant lock of raven-black hair out of her bright eyes.

Now that Reznik looked closely, something was odd about her hair.

Each strand had an odd quality to it, as if smaller, fluffier hairs branched out from the coarse  main strands.

Almost like long, wavy down feathers.

Interesting… I wonder, is Luminita human?

I think I ate a bird-lady once upon a time - she looked almost human, but had wings and talons…

She was really slimy… and the feathers got stuck in my teeth.

But the hair on her head was kinda close to this.

Reznik’s head tilted the other direction, towards Luminita as his hand lifted up from where it rested in his lap. As if it was moving on its own, his hand gripped a clump of Luminita’s hair and lifted it to right in front of his eyes.

Luminita made a small, open-mouthed squeaking noise as she watched him grab her hair, blinking owlishly.

Then, Reznik sniffed the hair experimentally.

Hey!

Stop.

That’s weird… I think.

Let’s put it down.

I think she’ll get the idea.

With a grunt, Reznik’s  hand dropped back to his side and he released the strand of hair.

Luminita stared at Reznik with furrowed brows and an open mouth for several seconds before she began to stutter:

“Uhhh- I, oh! You’re curious about my hair, aren’t you?” Luminita asked with an amused chuckle after she made the connection to the meaning of his abrupt gesture. After he gave a small, slow nod, she smiled and picked up a strand of her hair and held it up for him to see. “Well… my mom is a Harpy.

“Dad’s a human, but I got my hair from mom.”

Ah.

That explains it.

Harpy… those were bird-women right?

Reznik had no idea who the Greeks were, and why the sudden idea of their mythology popped into his head, but it all had something to do with what Luminita was.

“It’s part of the reason why crows seem to flock around me - at some level, they see me as one of them.” Luminita further explained after the pause seemed to draw on for a moment too long, shaking her head and smiling in a forced way. “They wouldn’t leave my mother alone either - it’s part of how we always had enough to buy food. The crows would just… show up one day with a piece of silver or shiny jewelry they’d sto-“

“Mmh, not to mention someone known as the Crow-Maiden smiles upon you, apparently.” Zarah grunted, making an annoyed scowl without opening her eyes. “Haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep in a week because they keep landing on my windowsill and screeching.

“Keep trying to bribe me for information on the chosen one and the protector.” Zarah opened one eye and squinted at Reznik. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you? I hate being simply a tool for fate.”

“I… well, not really, no.” Luminita responded, her tone only half-convinced by her own answer.

This prompted Zarah to open her other eye with slow reluctance, blink once, and then raise her eyebrows expectantly.

“Well? I can just pull it from your mind if you’d prefer. But honestly, that almost seems like a waste of my energy, considering that I like to think we’ve all grown rather close over the past weeks.”

“I- it was just a story that my mother used to tell me before bed, that’s all. Just another made-up story about heroes for children.” Luminita sniffed and shrugged her shoulders absently, staring blankly across the carriage as she clearly worked at remembering the tale. “Except it was a princess the way she told it, rescued from bandits by a werewolf.”

“Oh, so just the two of you in another life, then.” Zarah snorted and rolled her eyes, glancing out the window to the newly orange sky. With a snort, she shook her eyes and pointed above the carriage. “That would explain why we have an escort of birds flapping over us.”

Luminita glanced out her window, turned back to Zarah, and blushed slightly.

“They- ah, they always do that when I travel anywhere. I usually just ignore them.”

Zarah made a small grunt of understanding as she continued to stare out the window. Scratching idly under her jaw, she seemed to be considering something.

“Alright. We should be arriving in the next minute or so. Those are the gates to the bastille up ahead.” Zarah’s tone abruptly changed to serious as she stared pointedly at Reznik. “Don’t let me down out there today. Prince Vezemir is about as good as noble-borne come, but he got a crafty, vindictive streak from his mother.

“He’s going to have a genuine challenge out there for you today, most likely a prisoner from the Riverguard. Someone that knows how to fight a Revenant.” Zarah picked up Reznik’s helmet from beside her, leaned forward, and secured it to his head. “I have faith that you can succeed - no one’s ever faced a Revenant like you before.”

Reznik wasn’t certain, but he almost felt like he could hear a nervous tilt to Zarah’s tone.

As if she wasn’t entirely certain that whatever was about to happen would go entirely in their favor.

Well.

That’s encouraging.

I bet the Prince has some all-powerful sorcerer or necromancer for me.

Maybe a Dragon.

It would be cool to fight a Dragon.

Maybe eat its heart.

No, not the heart - they’re always too chewy… maybe the brain, perhaps?

Reznik nodded slowly at Zarah as she eyed him curiously.

No.

A Dragon would probably destroy me in a heartbeat.

The carriage slowed to a halt before the door was roughly yanked open.

A portly man in his late middle age stared back at them from under a wide-brimmed metal helmet.

“Dame, Miss, I’m supposed to escort the two of you to the officiators box. Your fighter goes with my Sergeant over here.” The man offered in a tone that sounded abundantly bored.

“Ah, thank you warden.” Zarah nodded and stepped out of the Carriage before being followed by Luminita.

Alright.

Let’s get going.

I should avoid cracking my skull on the doorframe.

Reznik stood to a hunch and stepped out of the carriage several seconds later, dropping to the ground with an audible thud, not to mention the creak and sudden rise behind him.

Fuck.

This armor is heavy, isn’t it?

“Hell, you’re a big’un, aren’t ya?” the Sergeant, who had stayed behind as the women and warden left, chuckled at Reznik. The man pulled in a deep snort of air, gurgled, and spat a wad of phlegm to the side. “I wouldn’t wanna go against ya’, that’s for sure.”

Reznik, unable to respond any other way, simply nodded at the Sergeant in a deliberate manner.

“Right. Talk is cheap. Come with me.” The Sergeant rolled his eyes as he turned and waved over his shoulder.

Reznik was led to a large oaken door set into a windowless brick and mortar wall, through a short tunnel, and out into what vaguely resembled a square, open-topped amphitheater.

“A’ight, stay here and wait for the duel to be called. Don’t throw any spells towards the top of the walls, or aim a gun up there. Beyond that, best of luck.” The Sergeant nodded at Reznik, stepped past him, and closed the door behind him with a thud.

He was inside of what looked like a fifty-by-fifty meter square, with walls high enough that the only people who could view the inside of it would have to sit inside of stone turrets on either side. Both held several seats, each looking opulent and well-upholstered, at least from this distance.

Patiently, Reznik waited until he saw movement out of the corner of his eye.

Talking quietly, the Prince, several members of his guard, Zarah, and Luminita climbed to the viewing turret on his left, with Zarah and Captain Harvish sitting in the only two available chairs. The Prince seemed to lower himself down upon something, though Reznik couldn’t see what.

Reznik reasoned that it was likely to be some sort of pad or futon, something that would cooperate with the different way his body worked.

After a further moment of talking that ended in a boisterous laugh between Zarah and the Prince, Vezemir turned and nodded to Harvish.

“Bring out the prisoner to be judged!” Harvish boomed, echoing around the arena.

A man was brought out of the single door on the opposite end from Reznik, bound in wrist and ankle chains with a bag over his head.

He also wore a disheveled, unbuttoned tan overcoat that Reznik instantly recognized as belonging to a member of the Riverguard. He found it interesting that the man also wore a large stack of medals pinned in rows on his chest.

To the point that it actually weighed that side of his coat down in an imbalanced way.

Ah.

So Zarah was right.

Well, this wouldn’t be a test if they simply threw some random bandit at me, would it?

I wonder what the man did to end up here?

Murder? Rape? Maybe he colluded with the enemy and spied for them?

The guards beside the man forced him to his knees before undoing the chains on his wrists and ankles. Then, they left as quickly as they’d entered.

It was clear they’d done this before.

Reznik noted that they’d left a longsword stabbed into the earth several feet in front of the man, clearly the item he would be defending himself with.

The man across from Reznik stood to his feet and slowly pulled the brown bag off of his head.

That…

Dammit.

Fuck!

Hard grey eyes focused at Reznik with disdain and contempt.

“So this is it, then, my Prince?” Sir Botezatu scoffed loudly, turning for the box that held Vezemir and the others. “An execution? For trying to protect your eastern lands and subjects by any means necessary?”

Revenant's Resolve Chapter 18

Foreword: Sorry for the gap, it was my birthday last week, as well as my my mother's birthday, so I was busy with things and didn't really find time to write - that said, here story:

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Reznik’s door was left ajar after dinner, and Zarah made it clear that he was allowed to wander freely around the home if he so desired. And so, Reznik took it upon himself to explore the home after the pair had finally gone to bed.

In truth, to call it exploration may have been a bit of an exaggeration, as many doors were still shut, behind handles that Reznik didn’t trust his abilities enough to open.

So he ended up spending the majority of the night simply staring out the window in the second floor study - one of the few doors that had been left open for him - and watching the city streets of Bratsow that never seemed to fully still, even in the wee hours of the morning.

As the sun rose over the looming hills in the distance, so too did the people of the city rise. Horses clopped up and down the street, some with riders and others with carriages - all going about their day to day.

Idly, he wondered what had become of the people in Carcal. Had they been relocated? Did the conflict push further and cause them all to become fodder?

I should ask Zarah about them. She knows enough to make a report to the King of all people, I’m sure she can tell me what happened in the end.

I should ask her next time we have our session.

Reznik heard footsteps treading down the hall behind him but kept staring out the window at the morning light. Particularly, he was rather enjoying the birds that fluttered back and forth from rooftop, to fence, and then back to the rooftops, singing cheery songs that were barely audible through the window.

It wasn’t long before Reznik smelled food, and then heard a second set of feet in the hall behind him.

“Ah, Reznik. You should come downstairs and eat breakfast - we have a big day today, after all.” Zarah invited with an audible smirk to her tone. “I have a gift that I ordered when you first got here that should be arriving soon, and then we can explore the town a bit while I run errands.

“Then tonight, we have a… notable guest for dinner.”

Ah. So I get to stay in the basement all night.

Is that what this is? You’re buttering me up before you lock me away again?

Reznik’s thoughts were tinged with a healthy dose of bemusement and sarcasm, hoping that if Zarah was listening to his thoughts, she would understand that his reply was merely meant to be teasing.

He didn’t actually mind spending a night in the basement.

Especially if he was fed beforehand, a point made clear by the fact that upon the mention of breakfast, he was already in the process of turning around and shambling towards Zarah.

“Believe it or not, the guest is actually interested in seeing you, more than anything else. They wouldn’t be coming here otherwise.” Zarah answered with a hawkish grin before exiting the doorway of the study.

Breakfast was simple, and more than filling for Reznik. Two slabs of pork, a small pile of eggs, and more than enough sausage to feed a medium-sized group of hungry men.

All of it set before him on a platter by Luminita as soon as he managed to cajole his less-than-responsive limbs into actually sitting down.

Something about it tickled at the back of his mind. For the briefest fraction of a second as Luminita had placed the meal in front of him, her face and her smile had been that of someone else - as if reality itself tore and replaced her with another.

It left him with an odd feeling of vertigo and deja vu as he finished his meal.

Before he felt like he’d had enough time to really consider what he was experiencing, a loud knock sounded from the door.

“Ah! Wonderful timing!” Zarah exclaimed with an enthusiastic smile and a small flourish of her hands after setting down her fork. Turning fractionally, Zarah fixed Reznik with a predatory grin. “Reznik, your gift is here.”

“Oh! Is this the-“ Luminita began before Zarah interrupted with a sharp nod and a shush.

“Shh. Yes, it is.”

“Sh-Should I go and hide him?” Luminita glanced nervously at the door as Zarah pushed up from her seat with a soft squeak of wood on wood.

“Nonsense. I rescued Alondra and her family from Espana almost fifty years ago, now. Imagine my surprise when I find they’d put their roots here, back when I decided to settle down.” Zarah waved her hand dismissively as she made her way to the door. “If there’s anyone in this whole nation that I can trust unconditionally, it’s her and her family.”

Huh. Apparently, Zarah’s a bit of a bleeding heart.

Zarah practically flung the door open and extended her arms wide to hug a blonde, diminutive woman who laughed brightly as she embraced the Telepath.

“Ah, is so good to see you, dear!” The woman hugging Zarah greeted warmly, with a thick accent that sent flashes of imagery through Reznik’s mind. Picturesque red-orange shingles, bleached white walls, priests calling their flock to mass with a backdrop of rolling hills.

Worse still, whatever place Reznik associated with her voice left him feeling an odd sense of apprehension and uncertainty - like whatever was happening there might come here very soon.

“You as well, Alondra! Please, come in - I take it you brought my order?” Zarah asked as the embrace broke, stepping aside to bid the young woman in.

Stepping inside, the curvaceous woman briefly flicked her eyes to Reznik with a harsh, appraising stare. Alondra had a deep, knotted scar that went up her cheek, through a milky-white eye, and onto her brow, and finally ended just below her hairline.

She sniffed the air once, then turned back to Zarah as a stout, bearded man followed her through the door with an oddly spiky-looking duffel bag on his shoulder.

“Ah! You look like the kind of man who’d nee-“ The Dwarf saw Reznik and smiled broadly before Alondra slapped a hand to his chest, stopping him mid-stride.

“Wait.” Alondra instructed as a woman with bright red hair followed the Dwarf into the room and stopped, shutting the door behind her. She was missing her right hand, only a stump remaining where it had been.

She tilted her head, the long, rosy curls spilling down over her shoulder as she watched Reznik with a concerned scowl. The Red-haired woman also sniffed the air exploratorily, her eyes narrowed.

Well, shit.

Oh this is going to go south in a hurry, isn’t it?

Neither of them look pleased to see me, and I bet it’s because they know what I am.

Do they have Revenants where they’re from?

“Zarah, I did not realize you’d took up necromancy for fun,” Alondra glared at Zarah with a pointed frown. “Care to explain… this?”

Alondra waved an accusatory hand at Reznik before Luminita stepped up behind him and rested her hands on his shoulders, almost protectively.

“Gladly.” Zarah chuckled happily, staring into Alondra’s eyes with glassy ones of her own. After several long moments of silence that in the moment felt like hours, Zarah blinked abruptly, looked to Reznik, and then back to Alondra.

“I take it that explanation was… enough?” Zarah questioned with arched eyebrows.

“Oh.” Was all Alondra had to say in that moment. After a second of clear, open-mouthed thought, she withdrew her hand from the Dwarf’s shoulder and smiled at him. “Go ahead, Marcello, make sure it fits. I thought I smelled something off, and I was wrong.”

“As you wish, my love.” The stocky man beamed up at Alondra with a toothy grin before standing on his tiptoes to give her a quick peck on the cheek. Then, he turned his attention on Reznik.

The other woman continued to stare at Reznik with hostile, almost luminescent green eyes.

“Sister, it’s…” she got out before Alondra interrupted her.

“A cursed one, yes. But he’s alive, in there.” Alondra stepped past her husband as he set down the bag of metal with a powerful, clanging thud, stopping several feet in front of Reznik. “Just look at his eyes, Catia. He’s no more a monster than a scared puppy.

“Now, can you tell me your name?” Alondra asked, smiling broadly at Reznik as Catia looked on with a confused frown that told him that she in no way bought the story of him being safe.

Fuck it.

Alright, now’s the moment.

Reznik!

My name is Reznik!

“He’s Reznik.” Luminita offered with a defensive edge from behind him, squeezing his shoulders gently. “He’s a Revenant who did everything he could to save my town, and even saved me twice.

“He’s not a child.”

Alondra briefly glanced up to Luminita as her smile deepened and changed to something hard to read, then turned back to Catia.

“Rrreezz… Nik.” Reznik’s voice was shaky and hoarse, but he correctly got out the syllables of his name.

Catia let a brief expression of astonishment cross her face before she smirked and nodded at Alondra.

“Interesting.” Catia mused before shrugging absently. “Alright. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this before. I’ve only seen undead in the control of a necromancer.”

“Undead in custom armor? Heh, now that would be a sight.” Marcello grunted as he abruptly grabbed Reznik’s hand and began to pull, having unloaded the contents of the bag - which happened to be a large set of near-polished metal plates and leather. “Come on, lad, let’s get you fitted. I need to make sure I got the sizing right.

“Ms. Zarah was very particular about not allowing you to come to the shop, so I didn’t get the chance to make sure she got the numbers right.”

“Marcello, you should know by now that I’m far better with numbers than people.” Zarah chuckled as Reznik was pulled to his feet with a surprised, almost-startled wheeze.

Marcello then pulled him over to the laid-out suit of armor, stopping just shy of it before grabbing a chair from the dining table.

“Do you know how many nobles have come screaming into my shop, claiming that I screwed up the numbers that -they- gave me?” Marcello grumped as he drug the chair back beside Reznik. “I’ll trust your numbers when the suit fits.”

Zarah simply rolled her eyes and smirked at Alondra.

Over the next half-hour, Reznik was put into a suit of heavy plate armor, piece by piece. From his neck down, it felt like there wasn’t a single inch that wasn’t covered by leather, chain, or steel. In truth, even though it gave him a feeling of mild claustrophobia, the armor didn’t feel all that heavy.

Each piece of plate was inscribed with odd, flowing sigils and patterns, like the armor itself was made to be as decorative as it was functional.

When the helmet was lowered onto his head, the fitting was done, and it gave Reznik an odd feeling he hadn’t felt in recent memory.

Confidence.

Apparently, even his body agreed. As Marcello jumped off the chair with a resounding thud and waved his hands as if Reznik was a presentation to the women in the room, Reznik rolled his shoulders and moved his arms curiously. Like testing the weight of a new weapon.

The women had long since poured themselves glasses of wine, and were seated around the table, chatting and watching the armor be attached to Reznik.

Blessedly, likely because he’d been fed recently, he hadn’t accidentally lost control and threatened to attack the Dwarf.

Or worse, tried to eat him.

Two things that usually went hand-in-hand.

Reznik had, however, been somewhat of an annoying client, much to his dismay and Marcello’s frustration, as he simply could not remain completely still. This had made Marcello’s job far more difficult, and had earned Reznik several chastising glares.

But after the helm was set on his head and secured with a leather clasp, he caught the stares from the women. Both Catia and Alondra looked proud, most likely directed at Marcello’s handiwork.

Zarah watched him with a smile that looked positively feral, no doubt already imagining all the ways she could put him to work in a duel.

Luminita’s eyes were like saucers, and her smile was brighter than the sun as she watched Reznik.

“He’s… he’s like something out of a storybook.” Luminita said in a breathless tone.

“A literal hero in shining armor for you, I’d imagine.” Zarah chuckled as Luminita suddenly blushed a deep scarlet.

“Alright, I’ll give it to you Zarah, your numbers were right.” Marcello looked at his handiwork with a smirk after huffing loudly. “Plate fits him, and I don’t think any tailoring really needs done.”

Reznik spent most of this time admiring the gauntlets on his arms.

This…

They’re going to have to drop a fucking mountain on me if they want to kill me in this.

“I’m glad I was, Marcello. That being said, your work is always top-notch.” Zarah replied with a small nod and a pleased smile, setting a bag of coins in front of Alondra. Then she stood from her seat and rounded the table to inspect him.

“Oh yes… this will do wonderfully for what I have planned.” Zarah looked Reznik up and down with a wicked smile. “This will be perfect.”

* * *

The borderline frantic pace in which Luminita and even Zarah worked at tidying up their home over the next several hours was odd to Reznik. The only thing he had to connect the rather sudden flurry of activity to was the apparent guest joining them in the evening.

When Reznik tried to send thoughts at Zarah, she apparently wasn’t listening. No reply came, either vocally or mentally.

So, Reznik spent his afternoon getting himself used to the feeling of the heavy armor he’d been “gifted” by Zarah.

Movement in it was far different than he was used to, and he realized that in this, he would lose all semblance of stealth. Not only was the armor shined, but walking around the house simply resulted in an endless thrum of weighty footfalls on floorboards.

Like an ever-present drumbeat wherever Reznik went.

He was sure it would get annoying for the women in time, if it wasn’t already.

He was also fed as the sun set and painted the sky outside a brilliant orange, but only he ate. Zarah told him it was for “insurance” - but he knew what that really meant.

Zarah didn’t want him getting antsy around whatever guest she had over.

Reznik’s meal was simple, as usual - mostly consisting of a pile of meat and eggs.

When he finished, Zarah placed the helm back on Reznik’s head and secured it tightly.

When night finally settled, close to what Reznik would have imagined the women’s bedtime to be, Zarah tilted her head and stood up from the immaculate, artfully decorated dining table.

“Reznik. Listen. The royal guard do not take chances.” Zarah watched him with a pointed stare. “Even with someone as close to the royal family as I am. Whatever happens, they’re not here to hurt us, so please - behave and be calm. The time for explanations comes after they search for anything that could hurt Prince Vezemir, okay?”

Royal guard?

Vezemir?

I…

Oh. Fuck.

Is the surprise guest the FUCKING PRINCE?

Zarah nodded before exhaling a shuddering breath.

She opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the door thudding loudly three times.

Luminita practically scrambled over to it after a brief, startled jump. When she opened it, two men in polished metal breastplates flicked guns upward.

“Hands up, stand against the wall. Dame Bukewicz, you are of course, excluded.” One of the men commanded in a calm, gravelly voice. “Jarod, go, I’ll cover.”

Luminita’s eyes were wide as she backed slowly away from the door with her hands up. The man who spoke remained in the doorway with his weapon pointed slightly downward as his counterpart stepped into the room, his weapon up, but not pointed directly at anyone in particular.

“Face the wall.” The man commanded firmly, but without any hostility in his voice. In fact, he seemed almost bored.

Luminita’s breath caught, and for a brief moment, Reznik saw a glint of something in her eyes. He wasn’t sure if it was hatred or disdain, but it certainly wasn’t joy.

After a second though, she complied, turning to face the wall behind her.

The guard then lowered his weapon and slung it over his shoulder before grabbing her hand and pressing it against the wall.

Quickly, the man patted Luminita’s entire body, clearly searching for anything that could be a threat.

Does he not see the steak knives on the kitchen table?

Thankfully, the man didn’t linger, nor did he spend any unnecessary time investigating Luminita’s feminine assets.

Stepping back from her, the guard turned to Reznik.

“You too, sir. Face the wall.”

Reznik willed his body to turn about and face it with an idle thought of why the man was doing this.

Facing the wall, the man repeated his process, gripping Reznik’s thighs, arms, and chest - making sure to search every crevice that something could reasonably be stored before stepping back.

“He’s clean too. Captain, what about his armor?”

“Mmm. It’s odd, to be sure. Dame Bukewicz, can you explain why your servant is parading around the house in full plate?” the man with the gravelly voice inquired with a mildly confused tone.

“Ah - I just bought the set for him today.” Zarah quipped back in a bright, cheery tone. “He’s still breaking it in and getting used to the feeling. Since wearing it is part of the reason I’ve hired him, I thought it best for my guard to wear it from dawn ‘til dusk, until he’s satisfied with it.”

“Mmm. I get that. Well, since he’s not armed, or carrying any explosives, it’s not illegal, but for future reference - it is highly unusual.” The Captain groused as Reznik turned around. The man had now lowered the small odd-looking rifle in his hands to a less aggressive position. He stared pointedly at Reznik for a moment longer before grunting and waving over his shoulder.

A moment later, Reznik heard a door slam shut.

“Kneel as soon as he enters.” Zarah’s voice rang out in Reznik’s mind, leaving him to wonder if he even would be able to kneel.

Well.

Hell, time to find out.

He’d been fed, so he should reasonably be able to kneel with enough of a mental push behind the idea.

Reznik heard footsteps coming up the cobblestone path to the home, but something about them seemed off. It wasn’t the normal pace of a human, nor did it share the tone of boots on stone.

No, the sound he heard sounded a lot more like the skittering of an insect.

As it turned out, he was right.

Stooping under the door came a hooded figure, with the rear end of a large, five-foot high spider.

Though the front of the person was odd, looking for all intents and purposes like a normal human torso, just superimposed onto the place where the spider’s head should be.

Zarah dropped to a knee and bowed her head, as did Luminita a moment later.

Oh!

Shit!

Right!

Kneel you fuckwit!

Reznik threw the idea at his body with all the force he could muster.

Shakily, he lowered down until the plate on his right shin thudded against the wood floor.

“All may rise.” A calm, boyish voice announced to the room. “Captain, you and your men are to remain outside - this is a conversation between friends.”

“My lord, I mus-“

“Captain Harvish, must we have this same fight every time I meet with friends? I trust the Dame implicitly. Therefore, you do as well.” Reznik looked up, but hadn’t yet decided on standing. The spider boy pulled the hood of his cloak back and revealed the face of a youth that couldn’t have seen more than twenty winters, on the far end.

The boy pushed a pair of glasses into place on his nose and looked at the Captain with a pointed, bemused expression.

“No, your grace.” The Captain replied with a flat expression. “However, this time it is different. If it was just the Dame, I would acquiesce. However, it’s her servants that are cause for concern.

“I’m afraid I must insist that either they leave, or I stay.”

“Hmm, very well, Anato. -You- may remain, the rest of my guard will wait outside, at the ready if we call. Is that an acceptable compromise?” the royal spider watched the Captain with raised brows and a polite but demanding smile.

The “compromise” was in fact, an order.

“Yes, my lord.” The Captain acquiesced with a small snapping noise coming from his heels before waving the guard who had searched Reznik and Luminita out with a pointed finger.

The door closed behind him, leaving Reznik to simply watch the newcomers in a dense silence that could’ve been broken by a pin dropping.

“Auntie Zarah!” Vezemir chuckled brightly and scuttled across the floor to seize the telepathic Elf up into a powerful hug, actually lifting her off the ground several inches. “It’s been too long since I had a chance to come over! Unfortunately my mother takes up all my time, now.”

“Prince Vezemir, it’s good to see you too.” Zarah grunted in a slightly strained tone, before the arachnid set her gingerly back down on the ground. She rolled one of her shoulders and smiled slightly woodenly before adding; “You’ve gotten stronger!”

“I have! Now, why don’t you introduce me to your friends!”  Vezemir smiled and nodded sideways at Reznik and Luminita. “I’m guessing they’re part of the reason your note was so… direct in requesting my attendance.”

Revenant's Resolve Chapter 17

It felt like weeks that Reznik was locked in that basement.

Weeks of abject boredom and silence every hour of the day as he had nothing to do but wait. Wait and be idle, save for the few bright points where Zarah came in to “work” on him telepathically.

Each night, after light ceased streaming through the floorboards, she would join him, feed him dinner, and gently prod at his psyche.

The daily touches felt far and away less painful than that first session, but likewise also felt respectively less impactful. As if whatever progress she made was intrinsically linked to the amount of pain he felt in his head.

Though, the pain itself was also new and worth enjoying in its own right. For the first time, the aches and stabs he suffered felt like they were actually happening to him - instead of dulled, like a bad memory.

The pain was his, and not his body’s.

Luminita often joined him in the mornings, but had recently taken up a new activity for his benefit. After she placed his tray of food on the ground, she would open a book and begin reading aloud to him.

What fascinated Reznik to no end, though, wasn’t the stories being told - however enjoyable. No, what fascinated him was the way his body reacted once it finished crudely stuffing its face with food.

It would sit and watch.

Merely sitting cross legged on the floor, much like it did for Zarah, watching Luminita tell what was surely a collection of stories for children. Periodically, when she would change the pitch of her voice to emulate a character or cough from a dry throat, Reznik’s head would tilt curiously.

More and more, it all began to feel like an extension of himself as he noticed that more and more of his body’s ticks were happening in concert with his own related feelings.

When he would feel curious and intrigued by the plot of a wisecracking rabbit exploring a hidden world, his body would lean forward and lend Luminita an ear.

When an evil witch would be on the precipice of overcoming the heroes of the story, his body would unleash a quiet, rumbling growl that had more in common with a cat’s purr than any semblance of real hostility.

At least, not hostility in the sense of actively seeking someone to rip limb from limb.

In truth, over this time, Reznik had grown far fonder of Luminita than he already had been, and eagerly awaited her presence in the mornings, almost longing for the sound of her voice in the same way he would feel hunger.

So when he was suddenly deprived of both of his friends one day, the change felt stark and sudden.

At times, Reznik could hear Luminita and Zarah talking from the floor above, so he didn’t worry that something terrible had happened.

But one day of abandonment turned into two.

Then three.

Then a week without company or food.

Ever more, his body grew agitated.

Instead of waiting patiently, or even a slow, meandering pace around his one-room world, his body would erratically squirm and twitch, reacting to the smallest of sounds with nothing less than overwhelming hostility.

Reznik’s body once saw a mouse, and with a howl, shot after it - all without Reznik having the ability to react fast enough to catch it. By the time he’d managed to grip the sluggish thought and hurl it like a stone at his body, he was already attempting to reach with bound hands through a small hole in the wall.

Reznik lost count after a week, time becoming rather meaningless without a clear indication of morning and night.

At times, he would try and direct his body to do things as he had before - things as simple as lifting his arms to grasp at an imaginary plate, or book, or anything in vain. It felt like he’d returned back to the state that he’d left the undead lands in.

Which was, to say the least, less than ideal for his hopes of becoming a functional person again.

They couldn’t have forgotten about him, or written him off - could they?

No. Of course not.

I am making progress.

I… I was.

Reznik stared fixedly at the flickering candle that had yet to dim or burn to the base since he’d arrived, just like he’d been for hours now.

His head and shoulders twitched and shuddered randomly, like his body was trying to do anything but stand still.

Then, a bucket of water was thrown over his psyche - he heard the latch be thrown.

The door open.

Then two pairs of footsteps clopping down the wooden steps.

Zarah was first, holding a white, carved pipe in one hand, and a notebook in the other.

Luminita was close behind, and Reznik smelled the seared meat long before he saw it. She carried a massive platter piled high with cooked poultry, fish, pork, and steak that looked almost like she was struggling to heft the weight of it.

“You must think I’m cruel right about now.” Zarah stated bluntly when she made it to the bottom of the steps, moving to sit atop the small wooden table that held the candle. “That… I’ve done this to punish you for screwing up, somehow.”

Well… the thought was on my mind.

But…

Can I have that food before we talk? I don’t know if I can hold him back anymore…

His body uttered an overwhelmingly hostile growl, snarling as it bent at the knees. Clearly, it wanted to pounce, or sprint wildly at the women. His cuffed hands raised before him, struggling against the weight he tried to place on his body.

It wanted to be fed.

“And I’m not going to feed you. Not yet.” Zarah shook her head as she apparently read his thoughts, or at least predicted roughly what he was thinking.

Zarah set down her notebook beside her, then produced the lighter from before out of her pocket, and sparked it up - proceeding to suck the flame through the pipe.

She exhaled a ring of smoke and stared levelly at Reznik while he struggled.

“Do you know what happens to most telepaths, Reznik?” Zarah questioned after a second, his name drawing the whole attention of his body for a moment before it resumed its fight against Reznik’s will. “Most go insane. Turn into a driveling mess of a creature that argues with the voices in their head, never knowing the power they actually possess until it’s too late.

“Many of those end up becoming monsters in their own right - frying the brains of the people around them, simply severing consciousness from body in an attempt to get a fraction of peace in their own head.

“Others kill themselves.”

Reznik continued to work at reining in his body’s attempts as Zarah monologued at him, forcing himself to not allow himself to be transfixed by her words lest he lose control.

“I was lucky enough to be found by an experienced psycher when I was young, and was taken into his tutelage.” Zarah took another puff of the pipe as Luminita moved to go back up the stairs, watching Reznik with a nervous look. Zarah raised her unoccupied hand to stop her, turning fractionally towards the young woman and saying: “No. Stay here. Believe it or not, you are instrumental to this.”

Luminita paused mid-step, looked to Reznik, looked back to Zarah, and then to Reznik again.

“Okay. Can… I help?” Luminita questioned after a short exhale that looked to be more for nerves than breath.

“No. Not more than you already are.” Zarah shook her head brusquely, continuing her staring contest with the Revenant in the room. “But as I was saying, when I was young, my master struggled to teach me how to control my power.

“He… was a great man, but at times a lackluster tutor.”

Zarah smiled sadly and dropped her eyes for a moment, drifting to a different place and time.

“He… brought me to a crowded market, packed with people after months in a library, with only my thoughts in my own head - the first peace I had experienced in my life.”

With those words, it finally clicked for Reznik.

Just why Zarah and Luminita had left him alone without food for so long.

“I… was overwhelmed, panicking, a thousand thoughts and emotions pouring into my mind without anything to stop them, or even slow them down. Like trying to plug a river with a stone.

“So, he gave me something that I desperately wanted - his knowledge. In the middle of that crowded square, my master knelt down, looked me in the eyes, and told me to focus on him. Then, he dropped the walls that had kept me out of his mind for close to a year at that point.

“If I wished to hear a fraction of the secrets that I wanted to learn so badly, I would need to shut out the noise of the world, and focus my power on one point - an impossible task up until that point.”

Zarah pushed herself off of the table and began to walk towards Reznik.

His hands darted up, instinctively reaching for Zarah’s throat before he clamped down on himself.

“Reznik. I will need you at my side very shortly. And to do that, I need to know that even at your worst, you -can- control yourself.” Instead of reeling from the stunted attempt at an attack, Zarah reached up and took his hands. Then, one of the manacles clanked. Then the other wrist was freed.

And before he knew it, Reznik was absent of any restraint.

“You’ve divided your consciousness and your body to protect yourself from the curse that overtook you, and it has served you well until this point. But you need to remind your body that it is -not- a separate thing.

“You control it. You -own- it.”

Zarah let his hands go, and the shackles fell to the floor with a loud clatter of metal on stone, causing Luminita to jump.

This triggered Reznik’s body to snap its head at her and shove Zarah aside as it leapt for Luminita.

No.

NO!

Reznik dropped the entire weight of his consciousness against his body as it was mid-air, refusing to allow any harm to come to either of the women, let alone the one who wouldn’t be able to defend herself against him.

With a stumbling stutter-step, Reznik’s body tried to stop the landing but only ended up tripping into Luminita.

Fuck! Fuck!

Reznik had accidentally slammed her into the wall, and now she stared wide-eyed up into his eyes from less than an inch away. So close, he could feel her breath on his face.

Reznik felt his lips pulling back into a snarl, his body about to take a chunk out of the woman.

STOP!

Not her.

Food!

There, right behind us!

All the shit you spilled on the floor, more than enough and better than her!

We- no, I can eat that instead.

Reznik’s jaw snapped shut and his head pulled back.

Pushing himself off the wall with a low, confused-sounding groan, his body turned around.

Then he looked down at the meat on the tray. And the ground beside the tray.

Only a couple of sausages and a steak had managed to get booted off by an errant foot.

Zarah stood in the middle of the room, watching Reznik with an almost wrathful glare. Finally, he felt a twinge of pressure against his mind, as if Zarah was holding a proverbial telepathic gun to his temple.

“Ah. Good, I was worried for a moment.” The Elf said, straightening back out and blowing a breath out through her nose. “Now. Grab your plate, and join us upstairs for dinner.”

I can do this.

We just… squat down and grab the handles of the platter.

Just… down… okay, down!

Slowly, awkwardly, with eyes only for the meal, Reznik squatted down.

His hands shook.

His fingers twitched.

With an utterly massive amount of willpower that felt sisyphean, Reznik’s palms reached the handles on either side of the platter.

All of Reznik’s senses felt alight, ratcheting up in tension higher and higher as he exerted control of his body.

Finally, his fingers wrapped around the grips and he lifted off the ground.

To his amazement, the tray came with him, spilling another sausage, but otherwise no worse for the wear.

Looking back to Zarah with what he hoped was a surprised expression, if he was even making one, he waited for instructions.

With an amused smirk, the woman raised an open hand towards the door, beckoning him to finish the second half of her instructions.

Up the stairs and eat dinner with them.

Yes.

We’ve come this far.

I can do that.

Luminita was still breathing heavily when she ascended the stairs a moment later, making room for Reznik to follow.

Taking the first step up felt sluggish, but he managed to succeed, followed by another after another, until eventually he was back upstairs inside of Zarah’s house.

Mildly surprised, Reznik found that the home had been significantly tidied since the last time he was up here.

Books still occupied the shelves of the room, however they were all now in organized rows on shelves, the backs of tables, and small stacks beside lounge chairs instead of their previous, helter-skelter organization.

The room also lacked the previous coating of dust.

Everything now had a clean, almost vibrant tone to it, as if every item had been polished to perfection.

It felt like a home.

Can…

No.

Reznik shook off the immediate hope that it could be called his home.

The basement however - given how long he’d been down there, he absolutely could consider it his home.

The basement didn’t count as part of the house, did it? No, it couldn’t, no more than a shed.

“Come on, stop balking. Table’s over there.” Zarah gently tapped Reznik on the shoulder and pointed to his right from behind. “I would like to eat dinner too, before it gets cold. Luminita here is a wonderful cook, and is a large part of the reason behind my change in routine.”

Change in routine?

Reznik absently turned and slowly meandered over to the table, realizing that the herculean task of coordinating his body to carry out fine motion was not quite finished.

He would have to set the tray down on the table.

As he approached, Luminita pulled out a chair in the middle of the four-seater table and smiled woodenly, most likely unsettled by his unprovoked attack earlier.

Sorry, Luminita.

I hope this doesn’t mean the end of storytimes in the future.

We were just getting to the good part of that one too.

Reznik bent slightly forward at the waist and leaned the tray over the tabletop. He had it right where he wanted it, and just had to wait a moment longer to let it go.

Then, he dropped it too early, and it clattered onto the wood raucously, but thankfully without spilling any more food.

Internally face-palming, Reznik decided to ignore the small fuck-up and just try to sit down. He imagined he would find it far easier now to control his movements once he finished eating.

At an arduously slow pace, Reznik lowered his rear onto the chair, finally making contact before Luminita pushed it in.

Without waiting, Reznik finally dug into the food - and blissfully, his body didn’t need to be battered into submission for this. Instinctively, one of his hands shot out and seized up a whole steak before taking a massive bite, tearing meat away from meat.

“Well. I suppose your manners need a bit of work, but the progress you’ve shown is… remarkable.” Zarah offered with a genuine smile as she pulled a bite of steak off of her plate with a fork. “I’m sure within a year or three we’ll have you ready to dine with nobility - not that I’ll ever torture you like that.

Ah right.

People use utensils.

Well… I guess this just means there’s room for improvement.

I don’t think I could figure out how to even use a fork.

“I think he’s doing a great job. Other than that little slip up down there…” Luminita offered from the other end of the table before taking a deep swig of wine from her glass. “I mean, you’ve seen how hard it was for me to adjust to life here after my parents… well. After everything that happened. I believe in him - he can do it. We can fix him.”

Reznik polished off the small pile steak, and was halfway through deconstructing a whole chicken when the latent gurgling in his gut finally began to settle.

“Oh? Pray tell, my little assistant, what do you mean by ‘fix’?” Zarah quipped with a raised brow, leaning back in her seat and interlocking her fingers above her stomach. Glancing back to Luminita as he stuffed a whole sausage into his mouth, he caught the moment her eyes flicked down to her lap and her cheeks went a deep scarlet.

Reznik looked back to Zarah, who now wore an ill-disguised smirk.

“I mean- well, he’s clearly alive. He’s not some zombie, he’s shown that since day one, from what you’ve told me!” Luminita blurted in an abrupt, defensive way. “I’m sure we can get him back to normal, or something close to it. He said his name, and you can talk to him with thoughts - imagine what he could do in however long it takes. If he can say his name, he can say other words too, right?”

Zarah’s smirk had only deepened by the time Reznik glanced back, giving Luminita a look that clearly communicated amused suspicion.

“Ah. Sure, if that’s really what you mean.” Zarah quipped with teasing eyes, taking a long pull of her wine. “I’m sure there’s nothing else you have in mind for your undead hero other than scintillating… conversation.”

Luminita’s gulp was audible even to Reznik as he chomped away at a piece of crispy bacon.

“I do admit, he is certainly easy on the eyes for a Revenant, easy enough to be mistaken as a Human.” Zarah offered before taking another bite. “However I think a full… conversation is still a long ways off.”

You know what…

No.

I -can- say other words.

Sorry, Luminita.

I really didn’t want to do that down there, but hunger is a force to be reckoned with.

Sorry.

SORRY

“Shhhs” Reznik hissed between bites. He swallowed the last of his platter, which had been put away before the women had even finished half their plates. “Ssssrrreee.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Zarah quickly leaned forward in her seat, a curious smile spreading across her face as Reznik felt her presence in his mind, gently, as if merely viewing his thoughts through a proverbial window.

I’m trying to apologize.

I attacked her, and I really didn’t want to.

“Ssssoreee.” His body half mouthed, half-hissed.

“I- is he saying he’s sorry?” Luminita looked at Zarah with a pleased and mildly self-satisfied grin.

“He absolutely is.” Zarah nodded slowly with an entertained chuckle. “Like I said, conversation is still far and away, but he’s certainly trying.”

“See?” Luminita beamed over at Zarah, crossing her arms confidently over her chest. “I told you so.”

Revenant's Resolve Chapter 16

The sound of the latch being thrown broke Reznik from his imagination-filled blank stare at the nearby wall.

Turning towards the stairs as the door creaked open, Reznik was bathed in the scent of seared meats, spices, and fire.

Oh dear gods, Luminita, your cooking smells like it is fit for a king - if not the heavens themselves.

Luminita came down the steps with a large tray in hand, packed to the brim with food. She made eye contact with Reznik and watched him carefully as she took the last few steps slowly, before placing the tray of food on the floor just within Reznik’s reach.

Perfect! Alright, friend - dig in! The wonderful woman has brought us dinner, and it’s cooked!

Reznik mentally pointed his body at the offered meal, to which it almost tripped over itself trying to scramble the short distance to the meal.

Luminita let out a small, startled noise as he practically leapt upon the food like a fox pouncing on a gopher before tearing the chicken in half.

With a rather disgusting slurping noise that made Reznik feel suddenly embarrassed for unknown reasons, he tore off the chicken breast with his teeth and swallowed it whole.

Wonderful.

It was practically the only word his mind could process as he continued to devour the carnivorous meal that Luminita had prepared for him.

Wonderful spices, wonderfully cooked, wonderfully warm.

Reznik had eaten a chicken raw, once before. The fact that this was even distantly related to the off-tasting slimy, feathery beast was almost incomprehensible.

“Well, mother always said the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach…” Luminita giggled and trailed off, slowly shaking her head as an auburn lock escaped her tight ponytail. The way she’d ended the sentence felt heavy, like there was more to be said.

As Reznik crunched away the last of the first half of the chicken, he was already reaching his shackled hands to the second half. Luminita looked up as he snatched it from the tray, meeting his eyes.

The orange-hazel of her eyes was illuminated a sparkling gold by the candle burning beside Reznik, almost to the point they felt as if they glowed in the dim basement.

“Well, at least I know my cooking is appreciated. Makes me worry less about what Zarah will have to say when she gets home.” Luminita continued with a deep sigh, crossing her arms under her chest and seeming to fold in on herself on the stairs. “I don’t even know why she recruited me to be her apprentice, handmaiden, squiress, or whatever.

“But here I am, further away from home than I’ve ever been. I… I don’t even think I have a home now.”

Reznik was listening intently over the sounds of his body consuming the last of the second half of the chicken.

Well, at least you actually have a home. Or at least had.

I don’t even remember a time when I wasn’t a mindless freak, let alone when I could have a conversation with someone.

Reznik’s body let out a small, chuffing grunt before shrugging absently, almost in-line with Reznik’s thoughts. As if it were mirroring his monologue.

“I… can you do that again?” Luminita eyes lit up and she dropped down a step with a suddenly excited smile. “Can you shrug again? Even say a word? Your name, maybe?”

I… I don’t think so.

Reznik.

REZNIK!

See?

I don’t even know what I di-

“Hrrmareezh-crunch-arr.” His body wheezed out something between mouthfuls that sounded vaguely, maybe like it was trying to pronounce his name.

“Uhh… hmmm…” Luminita tapped a finger against her bottom lip cutely as she clearly worked at a thought. “Maybe… maybe after you eat? Talking with your mouth full isn’t polite, after all.”

Reznik waited for the moment his body swallowed the last of the chicken and reached for the steak, which to him was the prize of the plate. A meat-based dessert if there ever could be one.

No. Stop.

Say our name.

You don’t get to eat until you say “Reznik” okay?

REZ-NIK

“Rrraeehzzniik” his body begrudgingly wheezed, as if using his vocal cords and tongue at the same time was a wildly uncomfortable act. “Rrreeznnnik.”

“Reznik?” Luminita cocked her head and raised her eyebrows questioningly as the smile on her face grew brighter.

As if his name on someone else’s lips were a trumpet call, Reznik’s head snapped up and away from the steak, watching Luminita fixedly.

Good job, friend.

Okay, go get the steak!

You eat that steak and enjoy it!

His body took a surprising second longer to watch Luminita before it reached for the steak. Calling the massive chunk of meat a steak felt like a misnomer, given that it was close to the size of one of Reznik’s calves.

“So, Reznik,” Luminita put extra stress on his name, enough to cause his body to freeze midway to putting the steak in his mouth. After a split second of waiting, he continued eating. “It was you, that night in the woods, wasn’t it?”

Yes! Me!

All me!

Well, and this lug, but my body is almost more of a very dangerous horse that I cruise around on at this point.

Reznik’s body took a bite of the steak and chewed at the phenomenal-tasting meat at the same time as making a wheezing grumble.

It all ended up in a rather disgusting-sounding chewing/growling sound, but he hoped he got his point across.

“I knew it.” There was a smile evident in Luminita’s whisper as she stood and brushed off her tunic and backside. “Well, Reznik, I’m glad you like my cooking. I look forward to cooking more for you - especially if you like potatoes.”

With that, Luminita shut the door at the top of the stairs and threw the latch, leaving Reznik with his dwindling supply of steak and a healthy supply of silence.

* * *

Reznik had heard Zarah arrive sometime late in the night, but she hadn’t come to talk to him. Nor had Luminita, though Reznik assumed that was because she was asleep.

In fact, he couldn’t really hear anything from upstairs, other than the rattling boom that came from a door being shut forcefully. It took a significant amount of willpower to not fall into the trap of retreating into his mental bunker, and entertain himself there.

The boredom of this basement was excruciating.

But, easily counteracted by anything happening, such as the lock being thrown and the door being opened.

Zarah’s thick, leather-soled boots snapped commandingly down the steps as she descended with a plate in her hands.

“Luminita tells me you have a name. One you gave yourself.” Zarah’s smile was faint and slightly playful as she stepped onto the floor of the basement and held out the tray. “She also said that you spoke it - with some effort, admittedly.”

Reznik waited patiently for Zarah to place the plate of food on the floor like Luminita had the night before, but instead she simply continued to hold it out, like she was expecting him to take it.

Breakfast looks wonderful, but I really doubt my ability to eat eggs, sausage, and steak without spilling it everywhere. Not without it already on the ground.

“A dog eats off of the floor.” Zarah’s face lost its smirk, instead replaced by a stern frown. “A man takes his plate and sits down to eat.

“Are you a dog, or are you a man?”

Zarah’s eyebrows raised skyward as she finished the question, holding the plate out for Reznik to take.

He also felt Zarah’s presence in his mind, far more omnipresent and oppressive than it had been on the trip in. It felt like she was currently trying to shine the sun into the darkest corners of his mind, but for what purpose, he couldn’t fathom.

She could at least partially understand his thoughts with far less effort on her part, as evidenced by the last day of their journey.

I don’t know how to do that! I can barely control the direction he walks, let alone picking up a plate and eating from it!

Do you want me to use a fork and knife too? Maybe give me a quiz on what utensils I should eat with at a fancy dinner?

Zarah’s eyebrow twitched, but otherwise remained flat as Reznik’s body slowly began to shamble towards her.

Then the question she’d asked hit him.

Am I a man?

I am.

I…

I can be.

Reznik focused himself and tried to send his body a clear message of exactly what he wanted it to do. To gently take the plate from Zarah’s hands, sit down on the floor, and scoop up a handful of food.

I… oh to hell with it.

We’ve got this.

We killed two mages, and a good chunk of an army!

We can pick up a plate.

Go, friend! Get the food!

He pushed the plan as forcefully as he could to his body. To walk up to Zarah, reach out with -both- hands, and pick up the plate.

His body completed the first step just fine, sauntering up to the waiting Zarah. The second step was where it became an issue, as instead of gingerly accepting the meal, his body attempted to snatch the plate away from the Elf.

Zarah deftly dodged away, merely lifting the plate with the food up and back over her shoulder, out of Reznik’s Reach.

“Ah-ah-ah,” Zarah shook her head slowly but kept her eyes on Reznik the entire time. “Do it right, Reznik.”

She lowered the plate back into position as she spoke, and Reznik felt a solid thrum of magic course through his psyche when she said his name, as if she were pinning something in place with a hammer.

It wasn’t a powerful attack, or the gentle presence of a friend, it felt like a weighty, precise impact on a part of his mind he didn’t recognize.

Or even remember having.

“Now take the plate.”

Do it. Gently.

Gentle!

Is hold, not grab.

Reznik pushed his command forcefully to his mind, in a way that felt like lifting the sky itself.

Slowly, painfully, with shaking hands, Reznik reached out and took each side of the plate in his hands. A piece of egg fell off from the rattling of his body trying to carry out fine motions, but after a moment, Zarah let go.

As if peeking at a disaster waiting to happen with one squinted eye, Reznik watched as his body simply held the plate in place shakily.

Good.

Uhh. Now.

Uhm, sit.

Sit down on the floor carefully!

Criss-cross applesauce.

When he pushed this idea down the pipe to his body, he felt another thrum, this time on the idea itself - as if Zarah were helping him send the message.

Reznik slowly squatted. Then dropped to a knee. Finally, he rolled back across his thigh into a seated position, only managing to spill a sausage onto the floor.

“See? I knew you could do it, Thinker.” Zarah dropped the stern expression and replaced it with a glowing smile. “I don’t even expect you to use utensils - gods know how many times I’ve had to eat with my hands while out on expeditions.”

Reznik’s body crossed its legs and set the plate between them. Then, losing its momentary dexterity, it took a fistful of the sausages and stuffed them into its face.

Well, shit.

You know, we had a real moment to impress her, there.

And then you-

“Mmm, don’t be disheartened, Thinker.” Zarah stopped him in the middle of his train of thoughts, sitting down cross-legged opposite him, like a mirror. “The point of a test like this isn’t to get unrealistic expectations. It’s to push yourself, and for me to learn more about your capabilities.

“The good news is, now that I’ve had time to focus, I believe I’ve figured out your… inner workings far better. What makes you tick. But for us to have a clearer conversation, I needed you to be able to let off the reins for a bit.” Zarah continued, but her voice came from inside his mind this time. She’d done this a time or two before, but it had always sounded hollow, distant, like someone shouting through a tunnel.

Enough for him to easily make out what she said, but the tone lacked clarity.

Now, she was as clear as his own thoughts.

Well, hello there, Zarah!

You feel a lot more… everywhere than before.

“Not untrue, really.” Zarah replied telepathically with a tone that held a shrug. “Honestly, everything inside your head is tied up completely wrong. Like a suspension bridge, but all the cables go to the wrong place. I have to put in far more effort than I should just to talk to you.

“It’s why I arrived with food. I needed your body to be… docile while I worked on you.”

Reznik could easily see the logic in the statement, and agreed wholeheartedly. Though, what she meant by “work on him” he didn’t quite understand.

I’m sorry - work on me? What exactly are you trying to do?

“Several things, actually. The reason it takes so much effort from me to talk to you is because your consciousness is still incredibly weak.” Zarah informed as Reznik felt like his soul was being prodded by a sharp finger. “My first goal is to change that, either by studying every inch of your mind to find a way to strengthen it, or if I can’t, then see if I can’t establish a psychic link while we wait for it to grow in strength on its own. I’ll also be making and giving you various tinctures over the near future, just to see if any of them have a noticeable effect.

“Honestly, it’s incredible how far you’ve come on your own, and given enough time, I imagine you might regain a semblance of the control you had before you became a Revenant.”

The prospect being dangled before him was exactly what he’d been hoping for.

Yet, in the back of his mind, an instinct screamed at him to dig deeper. That Zarah, no matter the amount of benevolence in her heart, wouldn’t help him like this without an ulterior motive.

She wanted something from him.

“You’re absolutely correct.” Zarah answered the doubt in his head clearly and without prelude. “The Kingdom of Wallach is… at something of a crossroads. The whole continent is, honestly. The court is split between those who are loyal to the old King, and by extension, his son, and those loyal to the Queen Regent.

“Things have gotten rather… heated as of late.”

How do I fit into all of that? I can’t even really control my own limbs, let alone do anything you need to-

A gentle pressure on his psyche cut his train of thoughts off cold. It was as if she put a finger to the lips of his thoughts and shushed him kindly, but forcefully.

“I don’t need you for your speech. With things being heated, challenges have been thrown around the nobility. Duels of champions, mostly.” Zarah’s words were accompanied by flashes of memory from her perspective. Men in and out of armor swinging swords, pikes, and even shooting each other with pistols on occasion. “I need a champion to fight on my behalf when the bickering inevitably crosses my path. I’ve chosen a side, and it’s going to lead to conflict at some point.

“I can fight for myself if it comes to it, but direct challenges are rarely called for. Thus, you come in.”

Reznik took a moment to soak in exactly what she was saying.

It sounded like she wanted him to be her champion, should it come down to it. A prospect that he honestly didn’t mind all that much - despite his hopes to somehow, eventually live a peaceful life.

I… I’m listening. What does being your champion entail, exactly? What do I have to do?

“Not much, really, but you’d be ready to fight to the death at my beck-and-call. That’s it. In exchange, I’ll keep working at you in depth and try to bring you back to some semblance of normalcy.” Zarah laid out the terms simply and plainly for Reznik. Honestly, the offer was more than fair in his opinion. All he would have to do is fight some people, which honestly, seemed like all he had done since crossing over the river.

“The other option is that I can sneak you back outside the wall, let you go about your own devices, and see what happens naturally. Likely there will be raiding parties sent after you, a bounty will be placed upon your head…even if it took a while, you’d likely end up dead. Revenants are hard to kill, not impossible. You just have to keep hacking until their regeneration gives way. Not hard for an army to do.”

Reznik initially recoiled at the sudden pressure being applied by Zarah, as if she were attempting to twist his arm into this decision, before realizing that she was right on some level. Feeding him would likely be expensive, not to mention the risk of keeping him in her basement. If he didn’t sign on with her, it’s likely she would have to send him away - and that would result in much the same ending as it had in Carcal.

Fine.

Alright Zarah - if you keep trying to fix me, I’ll fight whoever you want, whenever you want. Just say the word, and I’m there.

“Lovely. Now that that’s settled, I’ll make my first… payment for your services. This will hurt, by the way.” Zarah happily announced inside his mind, before a series of sharp, stabbing pains sent his vision white.

The telepathic Elf seemed to be prodding at every individual synapse of his mind with a wicked scalpel of energy.

She hadn’t been wrong, either.

It hurt.

Hurt like nothing else he’d experienced before.

This wasn’t repeated psychic blows like when she’d put him to sleep. These felt precise, small, and purposeful.

That didn’t make the experience less painful, however. After a minute or two, Reznik found he was able to tune out the pain to some extent. By the time he regained his vision, he found that his body wasn’t even reacting - simply licking the grease off the plate greedily.

With a deep breath, Zarah opened her eyes, and Reznik felt her presence in his mind diminish, along with the pain. It left him with an oddly weightless, blissful feeling, like his whole psyche was wrapped in a soft, velvet blanket.

“Okay.” Zarah exhaled tiredly before pushing to her feet and taking several unsteady steps back towards the stairs. “That’s all that I can do for now. It might not feel like much, but I made progress. I think, -think- that if you focus hard enough, you can control your neck. You can look around wherever you want, now.”

I… what? My neck?

Reznik tested the waters of his mobility. His halfhearted first attempt failed outright, but as he pushed more and more mental energy into the idea that he wanted to look over his shoulder, that he wanted his body to - he was surprised as he slowly turned towards the right, before stopping at a craned position overlooking the stone wall several feet behind him.

Huh.

Neat!

Reznik turned back to Zarah, who brushed a hand over her sweat-drenched forehead and shook her head.

I don’t know what I’m really going to do with this, but thanks!

“Well, I’ll be off then. Hopefully I won’t need your services for some time, as I have to get some kind of armor ready. Hopefully one that disguises your face, and what you are.” Zarah announced as she climbed the steps with an white-knuckled grip on the banister.

Perhaps that took more out of her than she anticipated.

I wish I could thank her, but I think she already left my head…

Zarah, say something if you ca-

The door shut behind her, and the lock was thrown.

Fuck.

Did I do something?

Revenant's Resolve Chapter 15

Reznik felt a pain like the spike of a red-hot poker being shoved down his spine.

“Ah, good, he’s waking up.” A voice rattled through his ears and into his mind like an echo. “Rise and shine, thinker. We’re a short ride off from Bratsow, now, and I can’t have you riding through the city on the back of my horse like a corpse.”

Reznik’s eyes opened to a picturesque blue sky and white clouds wreathed with green foliage.

His entire body felt… odd.

Scratchy, even.

With a slow, groaning wheeze, he sat up.

Well…

Shit!

How long has it been since we wore clothes?

Did they take the time to dress me after all?

Oh this is wonderful, I just wish it didn’t feel like it was crafted from an old sack of grain.

“Shhiii” his body wheezed, blearily blinking and looking around the mostly packed campsite.

Luminita was loading up saddlebags with various incidentals, the horse was happily drinking water from a nearby babbling brook, and he was currently seated nearby the smoldering remnants of a small campfire.

His hands were also bound by metal cuffs covered in unfamiliar runework.

Well.

I suppose that if I had a man-eating Revenant in my camp, I would lock him down too.

“Pay the cuffs no mind. Consider them… part of your disguise, Thinker. I need to get you through the checkpoint, and the only real way to do that is to convince the guard that I’m simply back from campaign with a newfound out-of-character slave.” Zarah slapped him on his back and stepped around to his front, dressed in her somehow immaculate outfit, even after days of travel.

In response to her gentle pat, his body made a short, growling chuff before attempting to nibble at the hand as it passed.

“And that’s why, in part. I would like to avoid any… mmm, unfortunate accidents before we even make it home.” Zarah chuckled brightly, before reaching behind a log and pulling free a skinned rabbit on a spit. “Here. Consider this your… consolation prize, since I won’t allow you to snack on one of us.”

Near-immediately after Zarah placed the carcass into his bound hands, Reznik’s body began to greedily take bite after bite of the seared and juicy meat.

“Well, it’s good to know that you can eat other types of meat, instead of the screaming, squirming type.” Zarah teased with an amused grin as she watched him eat from several feet away.

I would’ve done it more often if this body of mine would’ve let me.

God, the taste of actual cooked food is a godsend after all this time - I hope things get better, and I’m able to get more of it more often.

Raw person is so stringy. I had a piece of mage lodged in my teeth for almost a day after the battle.

“Mmm, I wish my father enjoyed my cooking as much as you…” Luminita muttered as she secured a leather strap on the horse’s saddlebags with a snap.

Zarah’s eyebrows crept slightly skyward as she glanced over her shoulder and snorted.

“From what I can glean, he’s enjoying your rabbit a lot! The… specifics are a little fuzzy but…” Zarah clicked her tongue and took a moment to inhale as she clearly pieced together what she was about to say next. “I believe he’s thinking something along the lines of how much he’s missed eating cooked, real food, and that his past meals have been less than ideal.”

Yup! Close enough for me!

“Uurghp.” His body grunted in a way that felt decidedly like an agreement, as if attempting to vocalize a fragment of Reznik’s thoughts before it took another hasty bite.

Zarah’s head snapped back to stare pointedly into Reznik’s face.

Luminita also turned around to watch him with a slack-jawed expression.

“Di… Did I just hear him… -talk-?” Luminita questioned in a deeply concerned tone.

“I think? Maybe? No… Talk is a little too far, but that was communication of a kind.” Zarah inhaled through her nose before snorting and shaking her head. “It would seem I have found a very special Revenant indeed.

“I’ve fought several Revenants over the years, and their heads are always… empty. Devoid of anything that could be described as a soul, a living thing. Not even like a dog, or bird. Just a pit where thoughts should be.

“It’s why telepaths such as myself are so uniquely useful for fighting them. No defenses. No armor, nothing for them to cling to and fight back against from the inside.” Zarah explained before blowing out a breath through her nose. After a long, contemplative thought, she added: “Though, you, Thinker continue to interest me. The first time we met in the wastes, what I felt - that little spark in the back of your head was… dim. Just enough light in the empty halls of your mind to convince me to take note.

“Now, you’re like a candle. The growth you’ve shown on your own is… impressive, to say the least.”

And what is… a normal person like?

If I’m a candle, then are they the sun?

“I have a question, Zarah,” Luminita interjected a moment later, raising a hand to speak like she was in a classroom. “If he’s a candle, then what is everyone else like?”

“Ah, well, to use the same metaphor, most people are like a large bonfire of thoughts, emotions, memories, and beliefs. Constantly crackling and popping away with new thoughts, views, and judgments.” Zarah answered with a short, pleased nod at the other woman. Then, with a long sigh, Zarah pushed herself to her feet and glanced behind Luminita at the horse. “But I’m afraid this really is a conversation for another time. I would like to make it to Bratsow by nightfall, or earlier.

“You’ve done a good job preparing the horse, given how little experience you have, by the way. So, let’s get Thinker’s hood up, and tie him to the saddle - then, we’re off!”

* * *

Being pulled along behind a horse was an unfamiliar, unexpected, and decidedly uncomfortable experience for Reznik.

As was wearing clothes.

However, it was a tiny frustration in the back of his mind - far outshined by the fact that he was actually able to have a conversation for the first time in his memory.

Or at least a reasonable approximation of it.

Periodically, as he stumbled and shambled some distance behind the horse that the women rode upon, he would feel a presence that made no effort to hide itself inside his mind. It wasn’t like the previous sledgehammer-feeling wallops that Zarah used to put him to sleep, but instead felt comfortable, like an old friend sitting upon a mental couch.

Reznik felt a tinge of gratitude after he picked up on a pattern after the first hour or so of travel. Whenever Zarah and Luminita would set into a conversation longer than one or two sentences, the presence would arrive.

Zarah would offer him opportunities to join in their conversation, if to a hindered degree. He still couldn’t speak, or even truly communicate all that clearly with the telepath, but she understood his broader strokes.

She would be explaining towns in the distance, nearby mountains, or even the expected duties of Luminita as her handmaiden, and attempt to answer the general aim of his thoughts as if he was merely another traveler in their party, instead of an undead monster, or even the slave he was currently pretending to be.

Though, I suppose until I manage to… get better, if I even will, I kind of am.

Still an upgrade though.

They’d come down from a vast collection of rolling hills into a comparatively flat plain, on which a city sprawled.

Bratsow, capitol of the kingdom of Wallach.

As they drew near to the distant city, Reznik couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer amount of people. It was a far cry from the wastes, and even the town of Carcal paled in comparison.

More and more farms dotted the lands beside the road as they approached, and passing travelers grew ever more common of a sight. Even the small towns they had avoided on the way in had a fraction of the travelers that this road carried.

As the city of Bratsow grew from a series of distant specks to an omnipresent mass of red, black, and thatch-roofed buildings that dominated the foreground, the road transitioned from a well-kept but still dirt path, to a cobblestone highway.

Reznik’s nerves felt like cords pulled to their maximum tightness, fraying and close to snapping as more and more of the pedestrians and riders they passed shot speculative glances at the women on the horse ahead of him, then disdainful, wary glares to him.

Do… Do they know what I am?

No.

No, that’s not possible.

I would have far more blades at my throat if they did.

I- is it because they think I’m a slave?

The idea felt far more in-line with what he felt.

They scorn he felt from the particularly wealthy-dressed riders and pedestrians they passed felt far more in line to someone looking at a pile of manure they’d just spotted in their front lawn, as opposed to the fear that came with recognizing what he actually was.

This settled many of the rising anxieties in Reznik’s gut, but left him still decidedly uncomfortable.

“Calm yourself, Thinker. This is just the way life is in Bratsow.” Zarah’s voice was clear and reassuring inside of his mind, likely sensing his mental state. “Slaves aren’t viewed highly here. You will see far more of these looks as we actually get inside of the city walls. Out here, many aren’t even wealthy enough to afford one. Inside the gates, it becomes much more of a divisive issue.

“Be calm, and let me handle everything.”

Reznik looked up to the Elf just in time to catch her turning back to the stone gates they approached. Her demeanor changed, far closer resembling the admittedly terrifying telepath he’d met in the wastes, rather than her teasing, conversational personality he’d seen the past day.

She rode on her horse with a straight, confident posture, one hand holding the reins, the other rested on the hilt of her saber. An aura of violent promise felt as if it spilled off of her like a miasma of undesirable consequences to anyone who would test the steel on her hip.

“Luminita. Get off, and lead us in on foot. I will answer any questions the guard have.” Zarah commanded with a gentle wave of her hand, like she was merely dismissing the woman out of hand. As the horse came to a stop, Luminita brought a leg around the back of the horse, dropping to the ground with a snap of her leather soles hitting the cobblestone.

As they waited in the short line of people looking to enter the inner city, Reznik continued to take in eyefuls of the fantastic sights.

He couldn’t remember ever seeing a city of this scale before, and it was as alien a land to him as his would likely be to anyone here.

Outside the gates, traders had set up stalls selling all kinds of wares - food, tools, animals, even cheap-looking jewelry.

Who knew that all this lay just a short distance across the river.

It’s rather terrifying to think of - all those undead just a few days ride away.

I wonder if there’s ever been a major issue with that before?

Given the presence of the Riverguard, I’d imagine so. They seem fairly trained and organized, and that doesn’t usually happen without a good reason.

“Name and business?” one of the guards asked almost apathetically, waving their group over to the gate.

“Dame Zarah Bukewicz, returning home from the east, along with my handmaiden and slave.” Zarah snapped back in a sharp, acidic tone - as if the man questioning her arrival was an insult. Reaching into her coat, she withdrew a palm-sized round token and presented it to the guard.

“Apologies, Lady,” The guard snapped to a rigid, ramrod-straight pose with his spear-like axe clattering against his shoulder with the speed of it. “Your seal is noted, please, carry on!”

“Good.” Zarah snorted, stuffing what was apparently a seal back into the inside of her cloak and nodding to Luminita, who blinked owlishly before stutter-stepping forward and pulling on the horse’s reins.

A moment later, and so too was Reznik being pulled along behind the horse by the rope wrapped tightly around the metal links of his cuffs. Making eye contact with the guard as he passed, the soldier’s helmeted face turned to a sneer.

“Fuck you lookin’ at, slave?” the guard hissed, adjusting the grip on his weapon threateningly.

Looking away before the insult became a real, unavoidable threat, Reznik did his best to push the hostile man at the back of his mind.

Heh, a week ago, he might’ve been a snack.

On this side of the wall the shops abruptly transitioned from the mobile market stalls outside the wall and into genuine stores, taverns, and even what looked like a proper bakery.

He couldn’t remember ever eating pastries or bread, but the smell wafting from the storefront elicited memories of his tongue and the feeling of a full stomach.

Though, it was outside a butcher’s shop with the scents of raw and spiced meat where his gut began to rumble excitedly.

Perhaps the rabbit he’d had this morning wasn’t actually enough.

As the quality of the shops increased, so too did the dress of the people visiting them. Gone were the blandly-dressed citizens outside the gates, replaced with colorfully-dressed men and women of what felt like dozens of races moving to and fro, having conversations, and purchasing goods.

This… this doesn’t feel like I’m even on the same planet anymore.

It might as well be an entirely different universe from my home and even Carcal.

Like something out of the middle ages…

Reznik’s thoughts squirmed over that thought, unable to identify what the concept of “middle ages” even truly meant.

A concept he couldn’t understand beyond the idea that this place looked like it.

He abruptly felt Zarah’s presence in his mind again, gently prodding at his thoughts in a way that felt curious.

Like the telepath was just as interested in his lacking memories as he was.

“Turn here.” Zarah commanded from atop her horse, pointing to the right, down a wide and populated street at the intersection ahead.

Among the white noise of a thousand voices in the street, it was barely discernible to Reznik, almost three meters behind them.

Luminita nodded and complied, gently tugging on the lead to pull the horse in down the instructed path.

Eventually, the shops gave way to a series of tall, thin, multi-story homes with long lawns fenced with iron.

The word “townhome” sprang into Reznik’s mind, but he couldn’t fathom from where.

“This one.” Zarah said, pointing to one of the buildings that had seen better days. “Tie off the horse here, I’ll have it stabled at the keep when I go to see the Queen Regent and the king.”

The horse was tied off to a pole at the front gate of the property, and a moment later, Reznik was untied from the horse’s saddle by Zarah.

“This… this is a big house, Lady,” Luminita nodded at the home as Zarah pulled a ring of keys from her pocket and unlocked the wrought-iron gate. “It feels like it’s nearly as big as the mayor’s mansion!”

“Mmm, I am Dame, after all…” Zarah muttered frustratedly when the key she’d selected failed to work. Selecting the next one in the series, she successfully unlocked the gate, opened it, and led the trio in. “Honestly, I feel as if I’ve spent far too many weeks on campaign or in the wastes to care whether my home is a shack or a castle.

“It has food, a hearth, and a bed - several of them, in fact! More than enough for humble, humble me.”

Zarah led them to the front door, successfully unlocked it on the first try, and threw it open.

The inside of Zarah’s home was sparsely decorated, coated in a faint layer of dust that gave it an almost abandoned feeling. In fact, the only indication that this was, in fact, an occupied home was the slew of open and haphazardly stacked books on nearly every flat surface.

“So many books…” Luminita whispered in a borderline awestruck tone.

Glancing over to the woman, Reznik saw that she was staring with wide, almost hungry-looking eyes at the scattered literature around the room.

Zarah chuckled and slowly shook her head, gently tugging on Reznik’s lead as she trekked deeper into the home.

“Luminita, how confident do you feel making your way back to the market we just passed, and buying foodstuffs for tonight and tomorrow on your own?” Zarah questioned as she led Reznik to a door inside the main front room.

If Reznik had to guess, it was a door to some kind of basement.

“I’ll be paying, of course, but do you feel you remember the main streets well enough to make it back safe?” Zarah inserted a key into the lock and opened it to a dark, almost foreboding stairwell.

“I believe I can do that - it’s only a couple turns after all!” Luminita affirmed confidently as Zarah began to descend the steps, pulling Reznik along behind her.

Zarah pulled a rectangular lighter from a belt pocket when she made it to the bottom of the stairs and sparked it, lighting a candle that looked brand-new, other than the charred wick. It was made from an odd, red wax, decorated in unfamiliar sigils that made Reznik wonder if it was really a normal candle.

It lit the space of the small, single-room basement more than brightly enough for Reznik, but he imagined that at least Luminita would struggle to see.

He didn’t actually know if Elves could see better in the dark.

Zarah knelt down and tied the lead to a metal eyelet in the far corner, giving Reznik just enough distance to touch the tip of his foot to the base of the stairs, but no further.

“I must go make my reports to the King.” Zarah deftly dodged past Reznik and approached Luminita, who stood halfway down the steps. She pulled a pouch from within a larger pouch on the back of her belt and pressed it into Luminita’s hands. “Go to the market before it closes, and get items to prepare dinner. Luckily, we know he does eat cooked food so…

“Hmm, just get him a large steak from the butcher’s shop, and a plucked chicken, and whatever else you’d like for the two of us.” Zarah wrapped an arm around Luminita and began to herd her upstairs. “Relax, you have little to worry about, the inner-city is decently safe before da-“

The door shut with a resounding thud, and the lock was thrown, leaving Reznik in an empty, stone basement that had more in common with the prison cell he’d been in in Carcal.

For the first time in ages, silence felt uncomfortable to him.

It felt less like the comfort of empty space, without threats to worry about, and closer to the absence of anything to hold onto.

Mud, Blood, and Magic 2 Chapter 2

Sam took a seat on the lounge chair that he’d dragged up the stairs over a week ago, staring through the massive hole in the wall that overlooked a large swath of the city, and the trench network beyond. The central keep had a fantastic view of the surrounding land, and the fight going on out there.

In truth, he felt far more at home in those trenches than he did playing ‘decision-man’ as he’d taken to calling his role since the bombing.

But until things got significantly worse, he had his role to play.

Bleed the Darabadians dry in Gerra. Make them sacrifice an unreasonably high number of soldiers for every inch of trench, every alley, and any building they managed to get their hands on. And the best way for him to do that was by creatively and intelligently leading his men.

Pulling out the magical revolver he’d purloined from the late Captain Jarrus’ body, Sam pointed it out towards the distant stalemate. With a thought, the air atop the sights of the weapon magnified to a borderline unrealistic degree, giving him more than a clear view of the outskirts of the city.

Old farmhouses turned to rubble.

Entire swathes of forest charred, shattered, and broken until the land resembled nothing but a soul-consuming swamp.

Then, on the other side of moon-like field of craters, bodies, and wire lay the few visible edges of the Darabadian lines.

Sandbags stained almost black with mud, the tops of helmets sticking fractionally over the edge of the trenches, and periodic machine guns facing into the muddy hellscape between.

‘Really is just like the first world war.’ Sam noted with a dark chuckle, before a house sized ball of fire jumped from the Darabadian trench, up into the sky, and down just behind his own lines. ‘Except I have to deal with a whole new layer of bullshit.’

Not only was Sam vastly outnumbered, but many of the regiment’s Mages had been ripped to shreds by the bombing along with their officers.

If Sam had had artillery, or even mortars, it wouldn’t be nearly as much of a problem.

However, he didn’t.

The constant bombardments left him with a distinct lack of any fire superiority, not even really able to position mages to fire back when the enemy lobbed their spells.

Blessedly, the enemy mages never launched anything with a larger explosive force than a mortar shell, but the problem was that their fire was far more accurate.

First-shot hits wherever they were aiming, like a gun that had already dialed them in.

‘At least there’s no gas.’ Sam snorted and rolled his eyes at the fortune. ‘I’m glad that even with all the bullshit, they still haven’t figured out how to make mustard gas or chlorine.’

Sam re-holstered the revolver and sighed, crossing his arms as he felt a gentle presence in his mind.

‘Gas really is the least of our worries, love. At this point, I’m worried far more over why we haven’t seen any wyverns as of late.’ Ellie offered in Sam’s head, reminding him for the however-teenth time that he was in no way alone in his thoughts. ‘Honestly. The fact that we haven’t seen any, even from our side is rather concerning.

‘It either means that we’re such a small concern that they’ve been tasked somewhere else, or that they’re holding them in reserve for something big.’

‘Yeah, well. I gotta make do with what I’ve got, right?’ Sam quipped back neutrally before adding: ‘speakin’ of what I’ve got, has Kara managed to gather everyone up? Meeting’s soon, and I’d like to have your logistics team with me when I debrief the General.’

‘We’re coming up the stairs right now, actually.’ Ellie answered with a cheerful tone before she sent him a small mental giggle. ‘Did I ever tell you that you have such a lovely flair for the dramatic? Holding this chat in the bombed-out penthouse of the keep will certainly set a tone for our dear General.’

‘I just figured a little ambiance would help communicate the situation to a pencil-pusher.’

Ellie didn’t reply, but Sam heard the footsteps climbing the towers spiral staircase behind him. Sam stood, picked up the chair by the back, and spun it around to face the door.

Henfri, of course, was first into the room - her long AMR resting atop her shoulder like a battleaxe as she held the barrel like a haft.

Following her was the diminutive-by-comparison Kara, then the even further tiny Goblin, Zee.

Ellie was behind them, having a effervescent conversation with Amiaranthae, or Amy - the Elven Mage that had once been their enemy.

Following the small flood of women was First Sergeant Stahlbrecher, a grey-haired, no-nonsense noncommissioned officer who had taken over much of Sam’s own duties for running Fox company while Sam attempted to organize what was left of a Regiment.

Part of the reason Sam had requested the man join them was to try and convince the General to promote him to Sergeant Major, and more or less give the man a rank that actually represented his responsibilities.

It likely wouldn’t matter to the man, but he imagined he would have a far easier time wrangling the lower enlisted.

At least, Sam hoped so.

Sergeants Major could have a hell of an imposing presence, as Sam remembered several occasions from early in his career where one had managed to organize an entire unit simply due to their proximity alone.

“Afternoon, sir.” Stahlbrecher nodded respectfully as he caught Sam’s eyes on him.

“First Sergeant, glad to see you’re still kicking.” Sam smiled warmly and sat down in his chair. “How’re the boys from Fox doing?”

“Well as can be said, given the shitshow out there.” The First Sergeant groused, crossing his arms over his chest. “The closest thing we give anyone to rest is patrolling inside the walls, looking for saboteurs.

“That’s where they were until Baker company lost the outer fighting positions in the northeast. Most of first and second platoon went out to retake the lost trenches.”

“Weird. I could’ve sworn I gave the order to fall back and hold stronger positions.” Sam grunted and raised an eyebrow at the First Sergeant, who shrugged absently.

“Must not have got it in time, eh?”

Sam smirked, shaking his head before turning to Kara.

“Alright. Let’s get the General on the horn, give her the report.” Sam nodded at the Dwarf, who already held the stones in her right hand. Idly, Kara directed the gate over to Sam’s left atop a small pile of debris that would give the General a view of not just the occupants of the room, but also the massive chunk missing from the wall.

When the greyscale oval of magic shredded to life before them, Sam was greeted with a view of a surprising number of people on their side as well.

General Keyrinnjha was flanked on her right by the Mr. Minehammer, a waifishly-thin pale man with a face that made Sam immediately think of a skull, and a well-muscled, absurdly well-armed Orc.

On her left was another Orc with a significantly lighter shade of green to his skin, smaller tusks, and a greying handlebar mustache. On top of that, he was immaculately well dressed in a fine suit with a fur cape clasped over his chest with a golden chain.

Behind him was a woman that felt achingly familiar.

A powerful-looking Drake-kin in a neatly-pressed black and gold military dress uniform, decorated with a slew of medals that was sure to weigh well into the low pounds.

She eyed the portal with a stoic frown, seeming to look for something before she smiled with a row of razor-sharp teeth. Her slit-like pupils widened until they were nearly round as she her eyes slowly panned to Sam.

“Capitan Volkjel.” The General greeted with a polite smile and a nod.

“General Keyrinnjha.” Sam returned the favor before idly gesturing at his fellows. “I’d like to introduce you to my headquarters team, if you don’t mind.

“If I’m not available to chat with, any one of those here is more than capable of dealing with whatever you need, so I figure you should know who you’re chatting with ahead of time.”

“Please do.” The General quirked a brow and interlocked her fingers on her desk.

“Alright, so, you’ve already met Warrant Officer Coalbelt, my magical advisor, but from there on, We have Staff Sergeant Elanor Vezir, my aide - she handles most of the manpower assignments for the defense along with supply and logistics.

“We also have Chief Veserik, no relation, currently in charge of magical defenses and countermeasures in the field. Corporal Vomfreet’zee runs a uhm… rather unique crew of goblins in the city’s sewer system, performing counter-infiltration operations down there.

“The giant wall of meat you see next to her is another Corporal performing far above their pay grade, Henfri Razkjec. She’s second-in-command for Sergeant Noiesjel’s scouting detachment - he couldn’t be here unfortunately, but him and his men are stretched rather thin and he’s one of the best shots we have.

“Last and certainly not least is First Sergeant Stahlbrecher, who does a bit of everything for everyone. I’d like to promote him to Sergeant Major of the regiment, effective immediately. Given how he keeps everyone in line and in check, I think it’s the right play to make.”

“Done.” The General nodded, turning fractionally on the other end of the Mage-Gate to smile warmly at Stahlbrecher. “It’s good to meet you, Sergeant Major. We’ll have the promotion ceremony once this war is a little more… calm.”

“Understood, General.”

“Now, I have my own fair share of… introductions to carry out. On my right is Duke Cordell, and his butler, Mr. Stebaen.” The General offered as the Orc slammed a fist against his chest.

“Well met, Captain.” The Duke grinned in a way that put his tusks on proud display. The skeleton-like man behind him simply nodded silently.

“He has taken something of a passing interest in your defense, and is has campaigned before the Ducal council on your behalf. On my other side is Representative Vol’Rashem, of the Shamalian Republic.” General Keyrinnjha steepled her fingers and bounced them forward at Sam. “The Republic have sent three brigades of volunteers to us, effectively halting the advance of Darabad just south of you, at least in part.

“Your continued existence in spite of their assault is the other half of that. The numbers they dedicate to trying to crush you are likely responsible for the severe manpower shortage we’re seeing on the front lines.”

‘Shamali.

‘I know that name from somewhere, don’t I?’ Sam halfway thought to himself and Ellie.

Then it hit him.

‘Henfri’s mom. She’s a colonel in the Shamalian military, right? Shock troops or something?’

The General turned her hand fractionally to the deep forest green Drake-kin just behind and to her left, and Sam decided to take a gamble.

“Colonel Razkjec, it’s nice to finally meet ya’.” Sam greeted in a far more informal way, gaging that Henfri’s mother would likely be an older, slightly more wizened version of her daughter. This meant, by his estimation, that she would respond far better to clarity and honesty, as opposed to rigid military politeness. “I’ve heard a lot about you from your daughter, along with the reputation of the Twenty-Third. I take it that they’re one of the units joining the fight?”

With a slightly shocked expression, General Keyrinnjha glanced over her shoulder to the Colonel, who lifed her jaw slightly and smiled.

“My men currently shred through the Darabadian lines just north of Kelarrin city.” Henfri’s mother offered with a deep, prideful rumble and a toothy smile that shared so much in common with Henfri’s, it made Sam wonder how he hadn’t seen the resemblance as soon as she was in view. “I volunteered to tip the spear that pierces to your southern line, and I intend to hold steadfast in that duty.”

‘It’s like if Henfri studied a dictionary…’

“That’s what I like to hear, Colonel. As much as I’d love to catch up, though, we’ve got some bigger problems to deal with. We’re running low on supplies. That goes for both ammunition and sustainment. Way I see it, we’ve got a little under two weeks left of food, and just over that of ammo, provided operational tempo remains the same.

“I don’t think it will. They’ve dug in hard recently, and have begun probing our defenses at an increased rate.”

Sam stood up from his chair and waved a hand over to the missing section of the wall.

“As you can see, we’re dealing with a lot over here.”

When the portal slowly meandered over to the vista, as if punctuating his words, the Darabadians launched a positively massive wall of spells.

Fire, air, and earth magic all arced over the battlefield like a tidal wave before it crashed into the trenches of Sam’s men. Then it was followed by another wave.

Sam watched as a third, then a fourth came down, and realized what was happening.

The Darabadians rarely, if ever launched more than three rounds of magical artillery.

This was clearly an attempt to concentrate fire and soften up that particular line for an assault.

‘Fuck.’

“Chief Veserik, you’re in charge of our logistics team. Continue to brief the general as you see fit.” Sam ordered, feeling that he’d finally had enough of simply waiting around in the “safe” parts of the city. “Henfri, Kara, on me. We’re going to the line.

“Stahlbrecher, Ellie, I need you two to run circles, gather up anyone not currently tasked and bring them out to the trenches.” Sam grimaced as the first rumbling rattle reached him from the barrage. “I have a feeling that this attack is gonna be a big one.”

* * *

Near immediately, the sparse, mostly-demolished buildings of the Blackstreet gave way to several trench entrances.

Deep cuts in the earth made by shovel and, once closer to the line, Earth magic. Many of the ones here, closer to the Blackstreet, had been constructed as or before Sam arrived after the battle of Gerra pass.

Jogging forward, Sam made his way deeper into the trenches and past the men working in the rear.

What few Mages were left were often stationed here, just behind the front itself.

Less than three hundred yards was left between him and where the spells had hit the very front trench networks and fighting positions.

Thankfully, in the ten or so minutes it had taken him to make it from the central keep to the Blackstreet, the barrage had quieted somewhat.

Spells still came, but fell at far less frequent rate, about one every thirty seconds now.

‘Gotta hustle. If they’re calming down, that means they’re gonna start throwing infantry here soon enough.’

‘Most likely. I was just up on the wall, and Noiesjel has spotted the first waves coming towards you - be ready, they may already be in the trenches by the time you arrive.’ Ellie informed him via their telepathic connection.

“Alright. Looks like they’re crossing over, might even be there by the time we arrive.” Sam told the women behind him with a passing glance backward, before waving his hand beckoningly. “Let’s pick up the pace for the final stretch.”

With that said, his jog became a sprint, twisting and turning through the trenches as his rifle rattled in its sling, smacking against the wall.

It was far too long for these close quarters, but it was what he had.

A magical spell that he couldn’t identify slammed into the ground ahead of him as he turned into the next section of trench, showering him with debris, mud, and viscera from the poor unfortunate soul that had once been standing there.

It also flung him back, stopping him dead in his tracks and leaving his vision blurry.

Grunting, Sam was helped to his feet by Henfri. He wiped away his eyes and looked ahead to a now-wounded squad of soldiers.

He couldn’t recognize them under all the mud.

The men simply looked like walking terracotta soldiers with stunned, wide eyes as they stared at the place where their compatriot had once been.

Sam had to bite back the instinct to simply put the gun to his head and try the day over again at the sight. He might still do that later, after he learned everything that would happen and how to counter it, but now was not the time.

“Make a hole!” Sam commanded as he started back forward, this time at a much slower pace, given the fact that he had the spins after an explosion went off so close.

The men complied, looking up to him with wide, confused eyes.

They likely hadn’t fully taken in that their friend was just… gone.

Sam shook it off, trying not to think about what he’d just witnessed. This was war and he had a very simple job to do right now.

Get to the line, and hold it as best he could while he waited for reinforcements.

If there even would be any.

‘Senire protect us.’

Another spell slammed home nearby, this time blessedly above the trench’s crest. It only served to shower him in falling mud and pebbles.

Sam approached the front line trench just as the ringing in his ears abated, greeted only with the sounds of screaming and gunfire permeating the air alongside the smell of burnt gunpowder.

Sam’s boot slipped on something slimy, and he only just barely stopped himself from completely landing face-first in the muddy sump. Looking to see what he tripped over, he discovered it was a long trail of intestine from a corpse. The top half of a body, to be exact - with no bottom half to be found.

The corpse goaned, lifted a hand towards him with a wheeze, and he found himself staring into the eyes of Sergeant Corella, who currently commanded what remained of Fox company’s first platoon.

Or had.

Then the hand dropped back to the ground, moving no more.

“Fuck.” Sam blinked and shook his head as he growled to himself. “Gotta stay the course. See this through. I can just… die and do it all again. Make sure this doesn’t happen.”

So he pushed onward to the outermost trench.

All he found there was more of the same.

Shredded bodies by the dozen, blood coagulating in the mud beneath his feet in a way that made walking feel like a herculean task.

The ones who were still whole, or at least coherent currently held positions on the crest of the trench - firing, reloading, and firing again.

“Kara. Kara! Start working on getting our defenses back into shape! See if you can repair the spikes and make some fatal funnels for our boys!” Sam shouted over the din at the woman, who’s eyes were as wide as saucers. The Dwarf’s skin had also taken on a greenish pallor, in the few places that weren’t liberally coated in mud.

Sam was about to turn to Henfri and instruct her to get on the line and start taking shots, but as it turned out she was already doing that.

She grabbed a rifle out of the mud, shook it off, and then ripped several pouches of ammunition off the belt of a dead soldier. Henfri jumped up to a step on the wall and tossed the much smaller rifle and ammunition beside herself before she pulled Procjze off her back and rested it atop a sandbag.

Nodding at the Kin’s back, Sam turned to Kara again, who still looked shellshocked.

She probably was.

“Kara!” Sam shook the Mage’s shoulders gently, causing her eyes to dart back to him. “Kara! Get those spikes back up! We can help the wounded later!”

“A-aye!” Kara’s voice was shaky, much like her entire body.

“Get going - we have to hold until Stahlbrecher and his reinforcements get here! I need you for that, there’s no other Mages here!”

With that said, Sam patted Kara on her shoulder, turned, and set up several yards down the line from Henfri, resting his rifle in a small mound of mud.

In the distance, he could see them.

Darabadians crossing no man’s land like ants swarming a kill.

Sam grit his teeth when he realized how close they were likely to get.

“Company!” he bellowed, loud enough to cause a momentary lull in the gunfire. “Fix bayonets.”

Mud, Blood, and Magic 2 Chapter 1

Preface: I do this because I got caught in writers block for Revenant's Resolve and had a wild hair. The chapters will be uploaded at irregular, unexpected intervals, based purely on my own whims and amount of writers block.

with that being said - enjoy >:)
---------------------------

“Sir, Baker company just sent a runner!”

Sam scratched his nose and glanced up at the disheveled-looking Sergeant that burst in through the doorway. He vaguely remembered the man and attempted to remember his name as well.

“And… where is he Sergeant Zellin?” Sam asked, rolling his head to the side quizzically.

Sergeant Zellin straightened out, licked his lips once, and extended a hand with a blood-stained letter.

“He… bled out.” Sergeant Zellin gulped and seemed to look everywhere but Sam’s face. “The doctor is working on him now, but…”

“Snipers again?” Sam frowned and let out a barely-audible curse. He knew the answer - the Darabadians had been making his life a living hell as of late, sending small teams of scouts that had no orders other than to cause chaos, and return to the line.

The scouts would creep past the outer line of trenches around Gerra, hide in some obscure nook, and fire at people they believed were important. Sam had even been on the receiving end of a large fire spell hurled his way last week, and it slipped past Kara’s defenses.

“Y-yes, Captain.” Zellin stuttered as Sam snatched the letter from his extended hand.

“We manage to catch ‘em this time?”

“No sir.” Sergeant Zellin shook his head fractionally. “I believe Sergeant Noiesjel or one of his men got a shot off at them from the wall, but they were too far out.”

“Fuck, okay - thank you Sergeant, that’ll be all.” Sam nodded his thanks with a thin-lipped smile and returned to the large table in the center of the room, covered by a large map that had more in common with a tablecloth.

Unfolding the small piece of paper, Sam scowled and moved a small game piece back from one hastily-scrawled line to the other.

“Did someone flee the field again?” Henfri asked in her telltale, constantly-amused tone. Sam glanced over to her and snorted before shaking his head.

The mountain of a Drake-Kin woman sat in a chair that was altogether too small to support her frame, creaking loudly as she shifted her weight. Henfri had her long, prehensile tail tucked through the back of the chair, and one leg folded demurely atop the other as she squinted at the page of a book.

“They fell back to a more advantageous position, Henfri; they didn’t ‘flee’.” Sam tossed the note into a small trash can beside the table. “And besides, shouldn’t you be up on the wall with Thom?”

Henfri glanced up from the page of her book as her tail lifted and curled around her front, resting across her lap to present the large bandage wrapped around it.

“I was wounded in the line of duty,” Henfri practically beamed up at him. “The Sergeant ordered me to return to the city.”

Sam frowned and approached the woman, who set the book down on her lap and smiled confidently up at him. In truth, she watched him from nearly the same height as Sam stood normally. Even sitting down, Henfri still cut an imposing figure.

“Wounded in the line of duty, eh?” Sam clucked his tongue and knelt down in front of Henfri before grabbing her tail with one hand, and the bandage with the other. Gingerly, he peeled it back just enough to take a peek inside.

He didn’t want to hurt her further if she was actually wounded, however - this was Henfri.

Sam wasn’t buying the sob story one bit.

Peeking inside the bandage, he found more or less what he expected; several torn scales, a decent-sized gash, but nothing even close to something that would take her out of the fight.

“Hmm,”  Sam grunted and gave Henfri a nonplussed glare.

“As you can see, my tail has been woefully injured!” Henfri said in a melodramatic wail, flopping back in her chair. “My center of balance, I may never recover! Do you see why Sergeant Noiesjel has removed me from the line?”

“I can see why the Sergeant would send you to the medic for a bandage - we don’t want that getting infected.” Sam stood back up and folded his arms across his chest. “Let me guess, the Sergeant’s orders were something along the lines of: ‘go get that patched up, don’t want you bleeding all over my post.’ Eh?”

“I believe he said ‘wall’, but yes.”

‘Ah, the specialist mafia exists even here. Shamming is just a way of life for them.’ Sam thought with an internal roll of his eyes.

‘I believe they exist everywhere, darling.’ Ellie chimed brightly in his head, a soundless giggle present in her tone. ‘And may I remind you-‘

‘No you may not.’ Sam cut her off firmly, but warmly.

“You know, there may actually be a treatment for what ails me so!” Henfri snapped her fingers and smiled toothily. “I believe human mothers often say that a kiss will fix all injury.”

“Well, I believe that you’re also full of shit. You’ve had a nice two-hour break, Henfri, the men need you and your Procjze on the wall.” Sam nodded towards the door of the small storefront he used as an impromptu command post. “What with Baker falling back, the other lines are going to need cover while they blow the trench connections.”

“There are other rifles and Mages for that work.” Henfri scoffed and waved a dismissive hand, clearly intent on staying in her seat for a while longer. “Besides - the Darabadians have been casting spells far too close to your command post lately! How would you escape if one hit the building and caused it to collapse upon you without your bodyguard here?”

Sam chuckled and rolled his eyes as he set her tail back in her lap with a small degree of care.

“Alright, fuck it ‘Bodyguard’,” Sam stressed the name with a teasing tone as he grabbed his flat-brimmed helmet off the desk. “I’m gonna go check out the situation from the wall myself. And since you’re my bodyguard, then I guess you’re just gonna have to come with me.”

Henfri’s eyes narrowed slightly, both in eyelid and pupil before she chuffed and lifted her tail off her lap.

“Well played.” The Drake-Kin groused playfully as she rose to her feet, towering over Sam.

“Mmm, come on, let’s see what Thom’s got on the wall for us today.” Sam said after slapping the helmet down a smidge too hard on his head with a soft clang. He grabbed his rifle from where it leaned next to his desk and slung it over his shoulder before turning for the door.

Opening it, he found the hemmed-in streets of Gerra as frenetic as ever.

Soldiers hustled to and fro, carrying weapons, ammo, and other supplies to different points around the city, and likely the trench network beyond. Distant gunfire and explosions also sporadically rang out like an ever-present drumbeat, almost rhythmically scoring the movements of the soldiers operating inside of the city.

“Oh! Sam! I was just coming to see you!” the distinctive, almost-scottish accent of Kara rang out over the din of the soldiers boots and shouted orders.

Turning his head in the opposite direction that he was heading, Sam found the Dwarf slowing down from a jog. She looked red-faced and slightly winded as she slowed to a fast walk and braced her hands on her hips.

“What’s up, Kara? Something wrong?” Sam asked with a quirked, inquisitive brow.

“No, good news, actually!” Kara stated with wry grin and a short shake of her head. “Warrant Officer Telum just woke up - it looks like whatever the doctor did actually worked. From her, we can contact high command again!”

“Out-fuckin-standing!” Sam smiled widely and smacked Henfri on her upper arm. “Alright, big girl, change of plans, looks like we’re headed to the clinic.”

With the same hand, he gestured for Kara to lead the way, to which she did - though at a far more sedate pace compared to her earlier run.

Less than twenty minutes later, and they were at the bunker-like building that had been retrofit as a hospital by the company doctors of each respective unit under Sam’s command.

Out front were several lower enlisted with wounds that were most likely superficial, but still needed treatment.

One wore a bandage over one eye, another had a slightly blood-soaked bandage wrapped around a leg, and a third wore his jacket over a bare, bandaged chest. It looked to Sam like the trio were playing a game of dice.

“Oh, shit. ATTE-“

“Nope!” Sam barked with a short chop of his hand, cutting off the soldier’s call to attention short as Kara held the door open for him.

In reply, the soldier let out a stuttering squeak before nervously looked to his compatriots as Sam passed by them at a brisk pace.

Pulling off his helmet more out of instinct than desire, Sam wrapped the strap around the hilt of his long bayonet at his belt and continued inside, pausing for a moment to let Kara lead him to Telum.

“She’s in the recovery ward now,” Kara informed as she stepped past him, pointing to a crossroads in the hallway ahead.

Sam didn’t reply, instead simply following her to a door that she opened without knocking.

A medic was gently daubing a towel onto Telum’s forehead, and as soon as Telum laid eyes on Sam, she attempted to shoo the woman treating her away.

“Leave, I will deal with this, and then you ca-“

“Miss, there are other wounded that need to be tended to, and I don’t have room in my schedule until I check in to-“ the nurse interrupted, before being interrupted by Telum herself.

“Fine then, I have more important matters to attend to. Such as the success of the entire regiment.” Telum shot back, causing the medic to sigh dramatically and step back from the bed. Turning to Sam, she gave him a pointed look before speaking in a tone that the corporal’s stripes on her arms in no way justified.

“Do not let her get out of bed, or even try to sit up any more.” The medic instructed with a deep frown. “She will be good to move around in a few days, but until then, her stitches still need time to heal, particularly the ones inside of her. Am I clear?”

Sam was momentarily taken aback by the direct order from someone so far down the proverbial totem pole, but then realized that she knew far more about medicine than he did, and thus she was in the right.

‘Goddamn, these bars are going to my fucking head.’

“Will do, doc.” Sam nodded deeply once before asking: “Anything else I should know about Ms. Telum here? Things to avoid?”

“Not really.” The Corporal shook her head quickly. “Just make sure she doesn’t move anything but her arms and mouth, and only moves those sparingly. She’ll likely make a fast recovery if she doesn’t undo the work of my superiors.”

“Understood.” Sam smiled thankfully at the woman before she squeezed past him, Kara, and Henfri, shutting the door behind her.

“Captain, it’s good to see you.” Telum gave Sam a brisk nod as he turned back towards her with a bemused grin. “I would salute, but…”

Telum gestured to her bandage-wrapped stomach with an ill-contained smirk.

“Don’t start that shit with me, Telum. I’m here to check in with high command, not to have my ego stroked.” Sam chuckled and moved to sit down in the chair beside her bed. “You got enough juice in you to make a call for me? We haven’t heard shit since we got encircled, and no one seems to know anyone they can call over the mage-gate to get me to higher-ups.

“Kara and Amy even tried to read your stones while you were out, but she couldn’t recognize any of the signatures that weren’t part of this company.”

“Oh, I have more than enough ‘juice’ to open a portal. In fact, I’m overflowing with Mana right now, and if I don’t do something with it, I will go stir crazy.” Telum snorted with a scowl and roll of her eyes. “These doctors wont even let me outside to throw out a couple of spells.”

Sam frowned and looked to Kara with raised brow, unsure of what the woman meant.

“Mages constantly take in Mana, Sam. If we overfill the reservoir, it can lead to feedback issues. Like your ears ringing after a loud noise, but your entire body.” Kara explained with a warm smile. “Usually when we hit that point, we’re just constantly throwing up a low-power spell around us to burn off the excess. Warming up the air around us a degree or two, creating a small breeze, that sort of thing.”

“Huh, okay. Is that why the room you’re in is always warmer?” Sam queried with a thoughtful expression.

“It is.” Kara nodded and then pointedly looked back to Telum.

Getting the point, Sam also turned back to the older woman, who watched Sam and Kara with an almost sad smile.

“What?” Sam asked after a moment of awkward silence.

“You two remind me of myself and Edwin, when we were younger.” Telum snorted once and her gaze fell into what felt like a thousand-yard stare. “There was a time, those years ago when we had such grand adventures…”

For close to ten seconds, nothing further was said as Telum clearly watched a memory no one else was privy to.

Then, she blinked the mist away from her eyes and shook her head, returning to the flat, impassive expression she normally wore.

“Anyway. Yes, high command.” Telum raised a hand and pointed to the far corner of the room. A bag, belt with an array of pouches, and a rather crispy-looking uniform were piled up on a chair there. “My stones are in the back belt pouch. Ms. Coalbelt, if you would tap into this discussion so the Mages at command can learn your signature, and you theirs, that would be optimal.”

Before she had even finished speaking, Henfri was already lumbering over to the pile, returning to the other side of the bed with Telum’s belt in hand. She set it beside Telum before opening a pouch on the back side of it, withdrawing a small cloth bag.

“These are them, yes?” Henfri asked, holding out her hand to the Warrant Officer with a broad, toothy smile.

“Correct,” Telum nodded as she took the proffered stones. Then, she simply upended the bag into her hand and stared pointedly at them. As if her glare had caused the opalescent red rocks to start working out of fear, they began to rattle, then lifted off of her palm in lazy circles.

Slowly, the Mage-Gate stones increased in velocity, bolts of black lightning snapping between the edges of the growing oval until it became a flat, black pane of energy.

Then, the color white flooded into the image from the edge of the oval, and a greyscaled image of an office was displayed before Sam and the trio of women.

“Ah, Ms. Telum!” A deep, resonating voice boomed over the connection from a stocky man with broad beard. “It’s good to know you still breathe. After three weeks without contact, I had feared the worst. What is the situation in Gerra? Does the regiment still stand?”

“Mr. Minehammer, the regiment does still stand. Is General Keyrinnjha present? Myself and the ranking officer need to make… several reports.” Telum answered simply as the man on the other end of the line pursed his lips, then nodded. “Mm, she’s in a meeting currently, but I believe this will take precedent.”

With that, the man of clear Dwarven descent rose to his feet and began to walk with his end of the portal trailing along behind him like a lost puppy. With three solid knocks on a door at the other end of the room, the man opened it to reveal a long meeting table crowded with officers.

“General Keyrinnjha, I have word from High-Chief Warrant Officer Telum, and the Thirteenth Infantry Regiment at Gerra.”

“Ah, that’s wonderful news Mr. Minehammer!” an Elf at the far end of the table smiled broadly from the head of the long table, raising both her hands exuberantly. “Now, if you all will excuse me for a while, our favorite unit needs me.”

A series of grumbles and acknowledgments came from the table as General Keyrinnjha rose to her feet and rounded the table before stepping into the room that Minehammer had come from.

She closed the door behind her with a quiet -snick- and sighed exasperatedly before turning back to the portal.

“Ms. Telum. What the hell happened over there?” the General interrogated sternly, snapping over to the Mage-Gate with a scowl. “I haven’t heard hide nor hair of anyone from the Thirteenth for nearly three weeks! I would’ve thought you overrun were it not for our spies telling me that Gerra, somehow, still stood.

“And even then, we couldn’t be sure if what we were hearing was old information or no-“ The General stopped mid-sentence and seemed to process the image she was seeing through the portal as her face shifted from consternation to concern. “Vera, why are you covered in bandages?”

“A bomb went off in the Colonel’s chambers while we were meeting with the subordinate officers of the Regiment, General. There were… not very many survivors.” Telum answered in a hollow tone, blinking and shaking her head before continuing: “We lost… most of the senior officers in the regiment, along with their magical support. As it stands, the current ranking officer of the regiment stands beside me.

“This is Lieutenant-Captain Volkjel, along with his Mage, Warrant Officer Coalbelt.”

“Vera… I-“

“Respectfully, General, this is not the time to grieve.” Telum shook her head in a snappy way before sucking in through her teeth and reaching a hand to the stitches on her abdomen. “We grieve when the war is over. Coalbelt, I’m passing the spell over to you now. I trust you can handle the Mage-Gate from here?”

“Aye, I can.” Kara waved her hand in a pulling motion and drew the portal nearer to her. “Apologies, General, but I believe Ms. Telum needs her rest. She was caught in the explosion. If you don’t mind, I’m sure there’s a room nearby we can use to coordinate and plan.”

The bedridden Warrant Officer opened her mouth to speak before exhaling and nodding gingerly.

“Alright, General, let me see if I can find us a meeting room or something in this hospital. Maybe a nearby building that isn’t packed with ammo.” Sam offered when Kara glanced pointedly and gestured with her eyes towards the door.

“No need.” General Keyrinnjha waved her hand dismissively as she looked over her shoulder to the meeting room she’d exited. “I will have my Mage make contact in an hour, after my current coordination meeting with the field marshals. If you have somewhere high, somewhere that I can get a decent lay of the land through the Mage-Gate, that would be preferable.”

“Understood, General.” Sam nodded snappily, having just the place to show exactly what they were dealing with here. “I’ll see you soon.”

Revenant's Resolve Chapter 14

Days went by in a blur as Reznik dodged patrol after search party after death squad, all looking for Bessarbans.

Or at least that was what he hoped.

If these were all for him, or even searching with him as a top priority, Reznik was surely in trouble. In trouble in a meaningful and dangerous way, that left him little option to escape from without killing people he frankly didn’t want to.

Soldiers defending their home from an invasion didn’t deserve to be eaten by a monster, regardless of the danger they posed to Reznik.

It wouldn’t stop Reznik from defending himself if left no other option, but he sincerely wished it wouldn’t come to that.

Prayed, even.

The first glimmers of dawn on a new life for him had cast their hopeful gloom on his heart, and he wouldn’t be giving that up, for any reason.

Stumbling through a dense bramble, Reznik found himself - for the third time since escaping the town - back at the crumbling statue.

How do we keep going in circles?!

How?

Did we lose our left foot back in the city and it grew back wrong?

Why here?

With a short, sharp “Caw”, a crow hopped down from a branch and landed on the statue’s shoulder.

As Reznik’s body continued to meander into the clearing, the bird refused to cease its nagging, shouting at him in a way that felt decidedly chastising.

Oh for fucks sake.

What is it with this land and these damned birds?

You know, I actually used to like crows. Before you assholes kept showing up everywhere and shouting at me!

Why is it the only ones that are willing to actually hold a conversation with me are damned birds?

With a deep mental sigh that was surprisingly echoed in a hoarse wheeze by his body, Reznik felt like scoffing at his body.

That it was its fault that he was forced to flee the town.

That if it had just allowed Reznik an ounce more control, he could have changed the situation for their better.

Then he dropped that idea.

No. No that never would’ve worked, would it?

It might’ve taken an hour longer, at most a day, but eventually someone would’ve ordered my head on a pike.

Yes, that’s exactly what would have happened, isn’t it?

Feeling somewhat defeated, Reznik only had a moment to lament the fact that his hopes wouldn’t have been realized even had everything gone perfectly.

Then the bird began to shout again.

Oh my lord, what do you even want, crow?

Reznik made direct eye contact with the animal as he thought angrily at it.

The corvid cocked its head and squawked rhetorically. With a small flap and a hop, it leapt from the statue’s shoulder to its head.

Surprisingly, Reznik’s body had stopped in the clearing to ogle the petulant creature.

The whole experience put an idea into Reznik’s head. A consideration that perhaps this bird, or maybe all the crows of the area were something more than just mindless beasts.

The crow jumped down to the outstretched hand of the statue and pecked, then pecked again. It came up with a scrap of paper in its teeth.

I… is that the piece of paper that Luminita left with the sacrifice?

How is that even still here?

It’s rained no less than twice since then, not to mention the winds…

The crow flapped up into the air and landed on a low-hanging branch on the opposite end of the clearing. It leaned down and secured the paper beneath a talon before making a chirping noise that sounded almost like a “hey.”

Then it snatched the paper back up in its beak, and flapped skyward. The bird climbed above the trees, circled twice, and then set off away from the town, barely visible in the pre-dawn gloom.

Reznik felt a strange inclination to follow it, that wherever it was going, he should follow. He couldn’t explain why, but began to cajole his body in the direction the bird had flown.

Well, I mean…

If the birds are going to be this annoying on a regular basis, I might as well see if I can get something out of it.

Perhaps he’s headed towards a carcass I can eat.

We passed quite a few dead the last few days.

I’m pretty sure by now this entire area is one big battlefield, or at least the remnants of it.

Screw it, what’s the worst that could happen?

It’s not like Zarah could save me if she tried, now.

* * *

It was now clear to Reznik that this bird was indeed heading somewhere.

Reznik didn’t have the foggiest idea where that was, and worried in part that neither did the bird, but he kept trekking along into the rising sun, his body carrying along at a steady trot.

Two days he’d been walking now, following the crow that clearly wanted him to follow.

It could have left him in the dust dozens of times, but instead he often found it floating on the firmament’s winds, waiting for him as he found his way out of a dense wood or tangled bramble.

He had many questions for the animal, none of them he could reasonably ask, nor the crow answer.

Reznik crested a hill, then down into a valley, doing his best to quell the boredom that was now actively consuming him. The novelty of his predicament had worn off the first day, and now he was at war within himself as to whether or not he should even be following the creature.

Perhaps he would be better suited meandering back to the undead lands and waiting for Zarah’s return there, or even finding an unsettled piece of land to haunt like a wraith and live out his days.

Without warning, the crow dove down behind the swell of the hill Reznik was climbing.

It hasn’t done that yet…

Perhaps it is tired after three days of flying.

I would be too, were I not what I am.

Pulling back on his mental reins, Reznik attempted to slow his body’s pace to a walk.

Instead, it slowed to what could at best be described as a trudge.

Making it over the hill, Reznik could see a winding road in the next valley. It looked wide, and relatively well-traveled.

Hmm.

I wonder if there’s a town nearby, or at least a waystation of some kind.

It’s doubtful that the crow would land after all this while for no reason.

That, or there’s a dead thing nearby.

It’s probably a dead thing.

Reznik shambled down into the wide, wooded valley, following in the rough direction that his avian compass had dived.

He began to worry as his body continued to shamble ever deeper into the wood - no sound could be heard, not the caw of a crow, or the flutter of feathers frivolously flapping.

I… is the bird dead?

The dive didn’t look like aimless falling, though.

He looked like he was diving for… something.

Reznik continued on his no-longer-guided trudge until he heard something on the edge of his perception.

It was a quiet, almost-muffled sound that as Reznik grew near clearly distinguished itself as voices.

Is this what the crow was trying to guide me to?

People.

But who?

Why?

Reznik’s body also recognized the sound of voices and instantly changed its movements, going from a borderline directionless shamble to a hunched stalk in a snap. Steadily, it crept towards the sound of voices, and would have likely been intent on ambushing and eating whoever lay deeper in the trees were Reznik not ready to belay it in a flash.

Shortly after, he grew close enough to discern what was actually being said among the party.

“…But- but why me? I have no experience being the assistant to an inquisitor.” The voice pushed at Reznik’s memory, but he couldn’t quite place it. “I’m not opposed to a job, now that master Geralt is… well, dead.

“But that doesn’t explain why you’d simply pick me out of the crowd and pull me along with you like some adventuring hero rescuing the lowly serving girl.”

“Oh, darling, I assure you - I am no hero.” A brassy, authoritative woman argued with an amused chuckle. “And I haven’t been for some time now. As to why I recruited you? Well, being a telepath offers me some unique opportunities that others might miss.”

-That- voice Reznik knew.

Seared into his memory like a brand on his soul.

Zarah.

But who was the other woman?

“I imagine I know more about you than anyone other than your parents, Luminita. Perhaps even more than them.” Zarah continued as Reznik managed to see the dim light of a fire that was sunk into the ground. “By Elven standards, I’m not all that old.

“By human standards, I’m more than old enough to be your grandmother, possibly even with a great or two thrown in there. I like to think I have an eye for talent.”

“I’m afraid I don-“ Luminita began to say before she was cut off sharply by Zarah.

“Don’t play stupid with me. I know you know what the word telepath means. You’re far too smart a woman to be wasted on an outpost town like that. Far too brave as well.

“I’ve taken a peek through your memories, I know that you hide yourself from your equals, and have since your parents brought you out of Crai to live in Carcal.”

There was a long pause as Zarah appeared to wait for Luminita to respond to the remark.

Zarah and Luminita… here?

But why?

And why alone? I don’t hear anyone else around us.

“I… people don’t like being told they’re wrong. Or that I know better on something because I read a book on it in the Lord’s library.” Luminita huffed in a way that held quite a bit of bitterness in reserve. “But there’s plenty like me in the world, what I’m asking is why me? If you wanted someone to help you with research, there’s more than plenty back in the capitol, I’m sure!”

“I wish I could say that it’s out of the benevolence of my own heart, or that I have means to rescue every diamond in the rough from the gutter, but no.

“You see, we have a, mmm… friend in common. And no, it’s not Sir Botezatu - though he is a good man. No, fate has played yet another confusingly fortuitous hand for me, as our mutual friend is actually nearby.”

“I- friend? I don’t know anyone outside of Crai, and we went around the city to avoid the Bessarbans.” Luminita scoffed in confusion as Reznik finally found himself a small gap in the trees and forced his body to a stop. He saw both of them seated on an overturned tree beside a fire dug into the ground that released no smoke and little light.

“That night when your caravan was ambushed, you saw something - someone. A hero to you, a hideous monster to everyone else - no offense.”

Why would she take offense to that?

Reznik briefly looked around and took in the surroundings. Only a single horse was tied to a tree in the camp, blissfully eating out of a bucket around its head.

The place where Luminita and Zarah had set camp was in a low draw, and wouldn’t be visible to anyone from the road, or even nearby until they stumbled directly into the pair of women.

“I- I, well he could have ea-“

“I already know, Luminita.” Zarah interrupted with a quiet but nonetheless bright laugh. “I have met our dear eavesdropping wanderer myself. In fact, I believe it was I that caused him to find his way to your city.

“What brought him here confuses me, however.” Zarah paused just long enough for Reznik’s heart to pulse a steady, punctuative drumbeat in his chest. “You can come out now, Thinker.

“No use hiding in that bramble on our account. She believes you a hero, and I can feel the thoughts grinding away inside your head. I can’t quite grasp them yet, but I understand that you mean no harm, unlike the Baron.”

I… oh… um… fuck.

We ate this morning, snacked on that Bessarban cavalryman we found dead.

You’re going to behave, yes?

Receiving no reply from his body, Reznik reasoned that this was his opportunity. This was his only real hope at changing, as Zarah had put it, the hand that fate had dealt him.

Go. To the camp. No eat.

No eat.

No fight.

No killing.

Not even a single hair on their heads.

His body shambled forth through the trees and into the open air of the small, walled draw.

As Reznik approached the women, Zarah stood and folded her hands behind her back with an expectant grin. Luminita stared at him with a mix of wide-eyed fear and happy shock.

“Oh my, look at you. I must say, you’ve done quite admirably since we met in the south. I can admit, had I known you would end up pursuing me like a puppy all the way into nearly the center of eastern Wallach, I would have made a larger effort to acquire you. I’m impressed.”

Zarah approached Reznik with her hands still folded behind her back, looking him up and down in an appraising way.

Reznik pulled back the reins on his body and came to a stop. His body let out a quiet, bored wheeze as it simply stood still, staring off into the last magenta hues of the sunset.

“Goodness, you are a specimen, aren’t you?” Zarah half-spoke, half-murmured as she stepped around Reznik, her eyes trailing up and down his body. Appearing off his left shoulder, Reznik caught the moment her eyes trailed beneath the nonexistent belt and back up. “Impressive indeed…”

Reznik suddenly found himself somewhat embarrassed. If he still had control of his hands, he imagined that at this moment he would be using them to close the proverbial curtains on the show.

Like I’m a damned piece of meat to her…

Maybe following her wasn’t such a bright idea after all.

“Oh come now, no need to be bashful. You’ve been running around eating people while in the nude for years now!” Zarah smirked and raised her eyebrows in a way that screamed “Really?” to Reznik. “I do have a question, though. How did you find us? I like to think I chose this spot to camp rather well.”

Well, you see, I ju-

“Not by talking to me in your head. I don’t really understand why, yet, but your words are a lot like someone shouting down a tunnel to me from far away. Think in pictures for me, if you would be so kind - it will make this a lot easier.”

Mentally shrugging, Reznik obliged, simply sending her a visual account of his past few days.

Zarah pursed her lips and furrowed her brow, seeming mildly confused at the information.

“Either you’re one astoundingly lucky birdwatching fanatic, or something else is going on. Because you’ve just given me a hundred and one wonderful thoughts of a singular crow. And several corpses. And a statue…”

Luminita took in a sharp breath that was loud enough for Zarah to turn her head and watch her for a moment.

Reznik felt something drop onto his shoulder, followed by a loud squawk.

“What did you bring me?” Zarah asked with an inquisitive grin, extending out her hand. The crow on Reznik’s shoulder deposited a slightly weathered strip of paper into her palm. “Oh, well, thank you friend. Tell me, what master do you serve?”

The crow squawked twice in rapid succession, took a small hopping step to the right, and then crooned.

“Mmm, well, it’s a shame I’ve never had an audience with your benefactor. I imagine the king would love to know of a minor god that protects his eastern lands, regardless of how weak he is currently.” Zarah bowed her head respectfully at the bird before holding the scrap of paper between her index finger and thumb. “Luminita, it appears the deity you pray to has… taken note of you. Very interesting indeed.”

Luminita was sitting on the overturned tree with wide, almost mortified eyes.

“Does this ring any bells?” Zarah questioned, extending the small scrap of paper to Luminita.

“I… I wrote this. I wrote this after that night in the woods.” Luminita offered in a stunned tone, staring blankly at the strip in her hand. At the same time, the crow on Reznik’s shoulder hopped away, flying off into the night. “I… I thanked the spirits of the wood for sending a protector to me in my time of need. A-an offering of thanks. It was my mother’s idea.”

“Interesting. Would have been enlightening to meet a god in person. I do hope his messengers come about again, I have questions to ask. But, we have priorities.” Zarah spun sharply back to face Reznik. “Such as what to do with the Revenant in our midst.”

Reznik did his best to push a mental shrug at Zarah in the hopes that she was listening.

“I feel the same. Were it my primary objective to capture and study you, I would’ve come with the proper equipment. However, I am unfortunately bound by duty to a different matter.

“I’m returning to the King to inform him of what is happening in the east. This leaves me with a conundrum, Thinker. How on earth am I to get you into the capitol in your state without a writ of passage?

“It’s likely that if anyone sees you as a Revenant, you’ll just end up in the same situation as Carcal, with the Baron ordering your death.”

Reznik didn’t have an answer to that.

At least not a good one.

Of course, he could try and sneak in over the wall, but an unhinged naked man was likely to cause a commotion, even at night in a city that was likely far larger than Carcal.

“I mean… he doesn’t look that far off from a Human or Elf. If we could squeeze him into some clothes, I imagine we could talk our way past the guard.” Luminita offered after a brief shake of her head, looking back up from the note in her hand. “Convince them that he was kicked in the head as a babe or something. A mute simpleton that you’ve taken in as a stable-hand or something.”

Zarah frowned, smirked, and then began to nod.

“I think it will take a little more work than you’re expecting, but the image of him getting his hair done like a girls slumber party is certainly an amusing thought.

“Though… truth be told, you actually could be on the right train of thoughts.” Zarah pondered out loud. “He really shares little resemblance to the legends of Revenants that are told over campfires. Only those truly experienced with crossing the Dan, or those close to them would be able to identify him. Especially given the fact that he currently shares little in common to the wild, shrieking, warped monsters they become.

“If we put him in a good set of clothes, untangle that mop on his face and head a bit, and make sure he doesn’t soak himself in a sea of blood, it might be possible to bluff our way back to my home.

“I have the necessary facilities to test and experiment on him there.”

“Then we do that.” Luminita nodded sharply before Zarah stared at her with an amused and mildly nonplussed expression. Hastily she added: “My lady.”

“No need for honorifics when it’s just us - that being said, I do agree with you. However, I personally don’t want to deal with the risk of putting a live Revenant into a cloak and ill-fitting pants.” Zarah admitted, chewing on the inside of her lip and turning back to Reznik. “Now. Thinker. I’m going to warn you - this will hurt, and I’m sorry. Trust me that it is, in fact, necessary.”

Zarah smiled kindly at Reznik.

Then, Reznik was hit by a wave of power on his head that felt like a thousand hammers clanging together inside his skull.

Another wave came, then another.

Then, for the first time in many, many years, Reznik passed out.

Revenant's Resolve Chapter 13

Most of the electric mage had been consumed.

You’d think that after all these years, I’d be numb to your actions…

Reznik once again had to quell a rising sense of disgust as his body slurped down the gelatinous contents of the mage’s grey matter.

Haven’t you had enough yet, you fat fuck? Our wounds have long since healed. Our hands are even back to normal now!

We need to return to the town, and help them fight off the soldiers.

Besides, the party of guards the Bessarbans sent to check on the mages haven’t returned yet, clearly, so it’s likely we’re going to fight a much larger group of them.

That or they just write the spell-casters off as a loss.

Sounds of gunfire and the clashing of steel still rang out distantly from the town.

Clearly, the townsfolk and their guards weren’t going to give up the fight anytime soon. That meant he needed to make his way back to them as soon as possible

Reznik had hoped that by now, the attackers would have given up, or at least pulled back to re-think their plans. Especially given the fact that night was soon to fall. Fighting over control of the town would be made even more complex and dangerous after dark, for both sides.

Alright.

That’s enough food.

We’re fine, and there’ll be more than enough food in the town for when we finish.

His body froze for a split second before it shoveled another bite of brain matter into its face with a squelching slurp.

I saw that. You heard me.

It’s tim-

His body grabbed a fistfull of bloody viscera from the abdomen of what had once been a woman and stood to its feet.

Oh.

Oh!

Are we listening now?

Wonderful!

Off to the town we go!

Setting off at a slow jog, his body took a bite from the remainder of intestine as it began to pick up pace through the trees - bursting out into the open field that surrounded the town.

Smoke billowed from the edges of the city, open flames licking at gaps in the palisade wall as the invaders clearly had begun to set fire to the structures on the outside of the town.

Shouts and screams could be heard, whoops and hollers of excited soldiers running amok as others fought for their lives.

Just like the wastes, eh old friend?

Hordes of undead chasing after your quarry, scrambling for a share themselves.

Shame for them we’re here.

Reznik’s body had sprinted across the field in a short burst, leaping up and over the palisade wall where it hadn’t yet begun to burn.

Slamming home into the muddy street on the other side with a squelching thud, Reznik found himself beside a group of soldiers - one of which holding a torch to the thatch roof of a home beside him.

The small group of about a dozen men all looked startled and bewildered at his sudden presence, nervously looking to their other compatriots, as if for advice.

Having taken a split second to look at their mud and bloodstained uniforms, Reznik understood they were Bessarban. The attempt at arson would’ve given it away alone, but Reznik took the extra moment of thought just to be sure.

Ripping apart enemy soldiers in front of someone would be terror enough - but Reznik wanted to be absolutely sure that anyone he killed absolutely deserved it.

Being killed and eaten by a Revenant was a punishment that should really only be wished on someone’s worst enemies.

Alright.

Kill them all.

Take a few bites as you move through, but we can’t linger too long.

Leaping for the closest man with a wild howl, Reznik’s body didn’t even give him time to consider what had just happened before lashing out at the soldier’s throat.

Reznik felt and heard the man’s neck snap under the force of being ripped off his feet and hurled at the next closest man like a meat spear.

Internally snorting at his body’s antics, and the group of soldiers immediately turning to flee, Reznik reasoned his body had this fight well in hand. Most of the men before him only had swords and axes. The only two with rifles were the one Reznik had flung, and the one he’d been flung into.

So…

Those fires weren’t started by accident.

These men were intentionally going through and setting the town alight.

Maybe that’s their plan, after all.

Fight wasn’t going well enough for them, or taking too long, so they’re going to spark the place up and leave.

Smart…

Evil, but smart.

“NE! NE! Poshal mo-” the last of the fighting soldiers clearly began to beg for his life, throwing his weapon to the side, along with the torch and falling to his knees.

Apparently, surrender was not good enough for Reznik’s body, however, as he simply leapt atop the soldier’s armored chest, grabbed the soldier’s jaw from the inside of his mouth, and began to pull down and out.

With a pop, followed by a wet tearing sound, the jaw came free from the soldier’s face.

Most of it anyway.

Kill him quick - just put the man out of his misery.

Whether or not it was by instinct or his command, Reznik’s body complied - bringing both his fists down like a hammer on what remained of his opponent’s face with a deep crunch.

Like a switch being flipped, the gurgling screams of the man died out.

Before we start taking the streets one by one, we should go see how Sir Botezatu and his soldiers are doing at the… what should I even call that building?

The keep?

Fuck it, good enough.

Take the roofs, get to the keep, or at least a place we can watch it.

If he’s kept up a good defense, I don’t want to be running into it - the only reason I even managed to make it out of the defenses was because so few were actually looking in my direction.

Like pulling on the reins of a mental horse, Reznik directed his body towards a nearby roof. If he knew the town as well as he thought he did, he would simply have to leap from the wooden apex of the thatch roof, down into the street, and then onto the one of the two-story shops that overlooked the town square.

My oh my, Sir Botezatu and his men put up one hell of a fight, didn’t they?

The road ahead of Reznik was strewn with bodies. Some were clearly laid into orderly lines, ruts in the muddy street from where their feet had been dragged back from the firing line, where they had fallen.

Others appeared to simply have been left where they fell.

Hundreds of men had died for inches of ground into the town square.

While Reznik couldn’t see the square itself from where he perched, he could see the top two floors of the keep, and what he saw didn’t inspire hope. Large scorch marks, pockmarks where bullets had hit, and worst of all an outright lack of the sounds of fighting from that direction.

Oddly enough, it sounded like the main fight was now happening outside the town.

Perhaps they escaped, and are now on the run?

Reznik pondered the possibility as he directed his body towards the roof of the general store ahead of him.

The thought felt like it was something Botezatu would do, from what little Reznik knew of the man, but the fact remained that he likely wouldn’t have had the opportunity.

Not with as many men as Reznik had seen surrounding the square when he’d left.

I should’ve just stayed and fought, instead of running off for the mages.

Leaping upward nearly as soon as his body touched ground, Reznik scrambled the final few feet to the roof of the general store.

The carnage stretched to the rooftop as well, it seemed.

Two dead riverguard laid dead on the roof, which had a large hole blown through the center of it near where the hatch had once been.

Glancing down as he passed, Reznik found the culprit; a carriage-sized chunk of ice that had carved through the roof and second floor of the building before lodging itself solidly into the first floor.

I guess it wasn’t such a bad thing that I dealt with that ice mage, was it?

Proceeding past the hole as if it wasn’t anything of note, Reznik’s body slowly jogged to the other side of the roof, giving Reznik a perfect view of the square beyond.

Oh… they didn’t make it, did they?

A slew of bodies, both Bessarban and not, were strewn about the town square. Men and women alike were lain over defenses, curled into limp fetal positions, and some were simply lying on the ground, as if sleeping.

The copious amount of blood pooling beneath them quickly shattered any hope of that being the case.

Worse still, of the dead here, the Bessarbanss were in the minority.

Four Bessarban soldiers also stood by the front entrance that Reznik had left from not so long ago, armed with rifles. Given the fact that they were facing out, Reznik could assume that the only threats they were worried about were external.

That meant they likely had taken the building.

Fuck.

Shit.

Damn them all.

To hell with you, too, body of mine!

If we hadn’t spent so long snaking blissfully away in seclusion, we might’ve made it in time.

Gods da-

Reznik heard a muffled pop, then a brief shout from inside of the keep.

The guards apparently also heard it, as one of them turned his head over his shoulder and shouted something that sounded like a question.

Someone’s still alive in there!

Yes!

Okay, body of mine, it looks like we have work to do!

Cross the square, kill those guards, and then go inside the building!

Go!

Kill!

Reznik’s body was off in a flash, vaulting over the facade in a wild, shrieking scramble.

Clearly, it had intuitively understood Reznik’s command.

A short drop into the blood-soaked dirt of the town square later, and he was off at a full sprint towards the guards at the door.

All four were currently in the process of raising their rifles to shoot him.

Zig and zag!

Confuse those little shits!

Mentally altering his concept of attack, Reznik was delighted when his body suddenly pushed off one foot and sprang to the side right before a volley of shots rang out.

None hit him.

Continuing to run at the soldiers, Reznik’s body vaulted over a stack of sandbags midway through the square, then dodged again as the first of the soldiers finished reloading his rifle. A second shot rang out a moment later, snapping uncomfortably close to Reznik’s head. By the time the third and forth rifle fired, Reznik was close enough that it was nigh impossible for them to miss.

Both rounds slammed home into Reznik’s chest, but so too did he slam home into the second man from the right, tackling him into the concrete side of the building. After the soldier’s head cracked loudly against the wall, Reznik’s body jerked back and hurled him into the two soldiers on the left.

When two men and what was likely a corpse stumbled back before falling down the steps, Reznik’s body turned for the last standing man, who was frantically trying to work the stuck action of his rifle.

He never got the chance to get it working again.

Reznik’s body leapt at the soldier, grabbing his shoulders and biting off his nose before hurling multiple blows down onto the open wound. The soldier went limp - though from shock or simply the repeated punches to the face, Reznik wasn’t sure.

Reznik’s head snapped to the side at the sound of a rifle being chambered behind him.

One of the soldiers he’d sent sprawling was trying to aim at Reznik from where he laid as his counterpart worked at pushing their unconscious friend off of him.

The soldier never got the chance to pull the trigger.

Not while he was still living at least, as his head jerked to the side with most of his grey matter leaving expeditiously out the left side of the soldier’s skull.

Somewhat confused, Reznik looked for the direction of the shot and spotted over a dozen tan-uniformed soldiers spilling into the town square with weapons raised.

A-are those reinforcements?

They look like reinforcements.

They certainly don’t like Bessarbans…

To hell with it, forget the soldiers out here! Let them handle it.

We’re going inside!

Leave it! Inside! Go!

Reznik’s body turned a moment later and sprang through the shattered doorway, only to find the atrium strewn with bodies. Over a dozen Bessarban soldiers were huddled around the entrance to the dungeon that Reznik had exited from earlier, with several of their number dead or dying in pools of blood nearby.

You know what to do, friend.

Reznik jumped over a corpse of a civilian as several of the soldiers around the door separated from the group.

The first man was a large orc with a two-handed sword, which he brought up and over his head to slash down at Reznik.

Reznik’s body merely stepped to the side and let the blade cut through the air where his head had once been. Without missing a beat, it stepped in close to the orc, grabbed his shoulder, and shoved its hand just below the ribcage of its opponent.

Reznik’s body curled its hand around one of the lower ribs and wrenched back sharply, ripping a bloody section of rib from the orc’s abdomen with a sharp pop. Then, it simply shoved the jagged, broken edge of the bone into the mountain of a man’s eye.

It was at this moment that the next man in line, a human with a short sword and a round shield faltered in his steps and looked a lot less sure of himself.

Then, he dropped his weapons to the floor with a ringing clatter.

The clatter was followed by a chorus of shouts from behind Reznik. A chorus of every voice all demanding the enemy surrender and lay down their arms, that the Bessarbans’s were surrounded, that their fellows-in-arms had fled and abandoned them.

One by one, the soldiers crowding around the door to the dungeon began to throw down their weapons one by one, slowly cascading into a cacophony of surrender as each capitulation seemed to influence the man behind them to give up faster.

No! Stop!

Leave it!

They’ve surrendered, that means we can’t kill them.

Reznik forced his body to stop its advance towards the former shield-bearing man ahead of him, as the act of surrender on its face meant absolutely nothing to it.

Coming to a stop with a faltering stutter-step, Reznik waited absolutely still in the center of the hall-like atrium. Orders were still being shouted, and Reznik hoped they weren’t directed at him.

The likelihood of him convincing his body to fall to its knees and put its hand behind his head was low, at best.

The door to the dungeon cracked open a tiny fraction.

“This is Sir Botezatu, of the King’s Riverguard!” Botezatu shouted wheezily, breaking into a fit of wet-sounding rattling coughs before continuing; “Identify yourselves!”

“Dame Zarah Bukewicz of the King’s inquisition, leading a regiment of the army to bolster Carcal’s defenses! We got your message, Thomman!”

The voice hit Reznik like a lightning bolt to the psyche.

He knew it.

Remembered it.

The door to the dungeon was thrown open and a bloody bandaged, haggard-looking Botezatu stepped out into the atrium.

Blinking heavily, he looked from the soldiers, to Reznik, then behind Reznik before snorting and shaking his head.

“Uh… what is that?” Reznik heard a question on one of the soldier’s lips behind him.

“I really can’t tell under all that blood.” Another man replied in a hushed tone.

“Well, hell. Nice of you to finally show up!” Botezatu quipped as soldiers stepped around Reznik and began to secure the surrendered Bessarbans as he heard other boots climbing up the nearby stairs. “I honestly didn’t expect to make it out of this one. Do you have any healers with you? We have wounded, and our town doctor isn’t entirely up to the task.”

Botezatu gestured to a bloody corpse on the ground.

“Ah, we do.” Zarah replied as Reznik felt something tickle the back of his mind, like a feather brushing his psyche. “Bring your people out to the square, and we will care for them.”

Reznik suddenly felt uneasy.

There were far too many people around him that he didn’t want to eat.

I should try and squeeze out, at least into the square.

We really shouldn’t be here anymore.

Internally, Reznik plotted a mental course out into the town square, then into a nearby alley.

Zarah was here, and that meant that he could easily find her again.

After shoving his plan to his body, it turned around and began to shamble through the sea of soldiers, who all glanced at him, then immediately glanced away and seemed to part around him.

A look down at his hands and chest answered why.

Reznik was coated, head to toe in blood.

Enough blood that these men probably didn’t even recognize what he was.

It was a blessing.

One person clearly knew what he was, however - Zarah.

Zarah’s dark, near-black eyes focused pointedly on Reznik as he walked up to her. Her golden-brown hair was pulled back tight to her skull in an orderly bun, setting her long, pointed ears on prominent display.

Just as the last time he saw her, her grey overcoat was cinched tight around her waist by a tall belt that held a pistol, a saber, and an assortment of pouches.

Her head turned to follow him as her eyes narrowed - looking equal parts curious and hostile.

She probably was.

The last time they’d met, Reznik’s body had tried in vain to eat her, after all.

He felt the silken touch of something at the back of his mind again.

I… is that you?

Are you doing telepath things on me?

CAN YOU HEAR ME?!

Zarah blinked and pulled her head slightly back as he passed her, like he’d just shouted directly in her ear.

Perhaps he had.

Then, a sudden, brief headache overcame him - like a microcosm of the attacks she’d thrown his way in the undead lands.

As quickly as it came, the headache left and Zarah turned back to Botezatu.

Reznik didn’t catch what was said as he shambled out into the square. Here and there he could hear sporadic bouts of fighting, but it had clearly died down from when he’d entered the town initially.

Most likely, the sounds he heard were just soldiers mopping up the remaining stragglers of the Bessarban army.

I might not have saved as many as I wished, but I imagine the fight would’ve been a lot rougher if I hadn’t dealt with those mages.

We did good today, friend.

You didn’t even eat anyone you weren’t supposed to!

“Hold, you!” a man shouted before a hand gripped Reznik’s shoulder and jerked it back to face a tan-uniformed soldier. Reznik didn’t have time to stuff down his body’s instinct, and it resulted in  Reznik’s own hand clamping down on on the soldiers extended arm before pulling him in close.

Reznik barely had time to let out a mental “NO!” before he was already taking a large bite out of the soldier’s neck.

The man screamed, frantically trying to push away as a chorus of shouts sounded from around Reznik.

No!

Fuck! You idiot!

You’ve gone and pissed away everything we just did!

With the second forceful no, Reznik’s body released the unfortunate soldier, who stumbled away clutching the left side of his neck as blood poured from between his fingers. Quickly, Reznik found himself surrounded by a circle of steel.

“What the hell!?” one of the soldiers pointing a rifle at Reznik shouted.

“The fuck is that?” another questioned in a booming baritone.

“I think it’s an undead, a fuckin’ zombie or something!” a third speculated before asking; “Did the enemy have any necromancers? I didn’t see anything like that on the way in here!”

“It’s a Revenant.” Zarah informed as she pushed through the edge of the circle of soldiers that had quickly surrounded Reznik. “A powerful kind of undead. You should all stay back, as that bite is the least it can do. I think the Corporal just frightened hi-“

“A Revenant?!” a sententious, nasally voice demanded from far behind the line. “In MY barony?! I thought the entire purpose of the Riverguard was to keep the likes of them out! Kill it! Kill it NOW!”

Reznik’s heart dropped at the sudden order, just barely able to see the pudgy man dressed in finery that stood at the tops of the stairs.

“Hold,” Zarah countermanded the order and turned to the man who Reznik presumed was the Baron. “Both myself and Sir Botezatu have seen the likes of them before, if he wanted a fight, we would have more casualtie-”

“I. Don’t. Care! Kill it!”

Reznik saw Luminita step out from the atrium of the building, then around the Baron. With wide eyes, she watched him.

“Very well, Baron. On your head be this.” Zarah inhaled sharply and turned back to Reznik with a flat expression.

“Run, little Revenant. Run fast. I’m going to try and kill you, now.”

The unfamiliar voice in Reznik’s head caused him to freeze for the tiniest fraction of a second before her meaning was processed.

Go!

Go now!

Jump, leap, run like our life depends on it!

Go you lout! Into the woods!

“Fire!” Zarah shouted and made a chopping motion with her hand.

The command seemed to touch an instinctive nerve in his body, and without warning it sprang forward, vaulting over one of the soldiers head before it took off at a flat sprint, shoulder-checking several of the soldiers in its mad dash to the edge of town. His body leapt onto a roof, then into a street, before eventually exiting the town through a hole smashed into the palisade wall by a massive chunk of ice.

And it was going so well…

We should stop by the mages we killed and snack up a bit.

I think we got shot a couple of times on our way out.

I know how hungry you get after getting shot.

Revenant's Resolve Chapter 12

“CHTO?!” one of the Bessarbans had just enough time to watch in abject horror as Reznik leapt from a rooftop onto his shoulders.

Tackling the man to the ground, Reznik’s body grabbed the top of the Bessarban soldier’s skull, twist, and wrench down to the man’s chest with a satisfying crunch of bone and sinew popping.

Little could be heard amongst the din of fighting around Reznik, but he could clearly see the sheer terror on the faces of the other Bessarbann fighters that had made the mistake of crossing into a street on Reznik’s path.

So, logically, immediately after Reznik’s body tore the soldier’s head from its shoulders, Reznik hurled the severed head directly into the face of the nearest man.

HAHA! YES!

Wonderful throw!

It seems the past weeks of rest have not troubled your aim!

Now, cut through them, quickly!

We need to go after those Mages!

In answer to Reznik’s prodding and plotted mental course directly through the soldiers, Reznik’s body let out a shriek and leapt into the next man - sending him sprawling away into two of his compatriots. Given the substantial crunch Reznik had felt from the impact, he imagined the man wouldn’t be getting back up anytime soon.

Our right!

Reznik barely dodged out of the way of a massive bearded axe swung by a diminutive man in thick leather armor.

The Dwarf had massively over-swung the weapon, and Reznik saw the moment in his eyes where he realized his mistake. Reznik’s body simply kicked out and sent the Dwarf flying away, into and then through the stone wall of a nearby house.

Oh, so you can learn new tricks, it seems.

I’ve never seen you kick before!

As if replying, Reznik’s body chuffed once, and then turned towards the remaining two men.

Two men who, coincidentally dropped their weapons, turned, and ran away like the devil was chasing them.

To be fair, they probably think he is.

Reznik glanced down to his blood-soaked arms and rolled his eyes.

Oh well, if they didn’t want to die, they shouldn’t have invaded.

Now, off to the Mages, friend!

Palisade wall is just down there - we simply go over, and then out into the field.

I can’t be certain, but that is where it looked like those spells were being hurled from.

Reznik’s body set out for the wall, but not before taking the time to stave one of the sprawled soldier’s skull in with a bare foot.

Oh wonderful.

Now we’re going to have slimy brains between our toes for weeks!

His body customarily didn’t have a reply as it sprinted down the lane to the wall. Reznik wondered why it wasn’t broken in more places.

From the rooftops, it only looked like they made a couple of holes besides the gates themselves.

Hmmm…

It might be so they could concentrate on less angles to attack from.

That, or less ways for people to escape.

Can’t call for reinforcements if you’re dead.

Reznik leapt over the palisade fence with ease, a queasy thought settling into Reznik. He was more than aware that armies would frequently conquer each other’s territory for any number of reasons. Resources, political slights, territory - a thousand different reasons for a million different conflicts.

Unfortunately, extermination was one of those reasons.

Now where would our Mages be?

The were somewhere ove-

Oh.

Oh no.

Reznik’s body blessedly dove out of the way of a column of pure white fire that careened from the heavens towards him. Landing just far enough away to listen to the sound of his right arm sizzling, Reznik’s eyes focused on the steep, diving arc of the spell, and tracked it back to a spot just beyond the treeline in front of him.

Ah, the clearing where we fought the bear.

With an internal grin, Reznik mentally pointed at the spot for his body, which had already begun running in a straight path directly for the clearing.

In the middle of crossing the open field between himself and the treeline, Reznik’s body suddenly ducked down and rolled underneath a hurled, jagged spike of ice that snapped past his head with a weighty snap of air before crashing through the palisade wall behind him with a resounding crunch.

Oh.

Mmm.

It’s been so long since we fought a mage.

We’re rusty.

No more straight lines.

Zig, zag, and run amok like the wild thing you are, friend!

With a wild howl for a reply, his body made a sharp right turn, running nearly parallel to the forest edge for several seconds before it hooked sharply back towards his objective and leapt skyward again.

Crossing far further than any man had the rights to, Reznik landed in a tight roll several meters in front of the closest tree. Beyond it, he could see a terrified-looking pale-skinned Elf.

Incredibly pale, with alabaster skin and somehow whiter hair.

This man was paler than any Elf Reznik had seen before.

He also looked downright terrified - whipping a staff around in his hands to point the tip at Reznik.

The Elf would be too late, as Reznik’s body had already leapt into the gap between trees at the man.

A flash.

A crack of thunder.

A gap of memory later, and Reznik found himself to be flying away from the pale Elf as a dark-haired woman with glowing blue eyes stepped out from a tree behind the man, holding a crackling ball of lightning in her left palm.

He was also flying the wrong direction, in a path perpendicular to the one he’d been running.

Oh that’s just wo-

Reznik slammed through the branch of a tree.

-nderful. So, we have an ice mage, a lighting mage, and th-

Reznik slammed into the ground and tumbled over a root. Then across a boulder. Then finally came to a stop at the base of a tree.

-en whatever that thing was that shot the sunbeam at me was.

I might be a bit outclassed here.

To punctuate his thoughts, a pillar of ice slammed into the trunk of the tree above him, showering his body and the ground with frigid shrapnel.

His body pushed to its knees and cracked a bone in Reznik’s neck back into place.

Ah, that’s better.

Reznik realized that he couldn’t see the Mages anymore. He also followed the path of destruction in the underbrush with his eyes out for a short ways, realizing that not only had he’d been flung over fifty meters away, he’d also lost most of the muscle on his left arm.

Much of the meat of the limb was left on a broken branch protruding from the ground in the path of broken brambles.

Glancing down to the wound itself, he found the muscle slowly knitting itself back together again at a pace that felt painfully slow for a fight like this.

At least they don’t hit as hard as Zarah.

With a wild, whooping roar, Reznik’s body shot through the smashed gap in the bramble to where he’d been flung from. It was clear that his body had not taken kindly to being hit while in the process of attacking the ice mage.

Slow down, simply charging in didn’t work last time, so why would it work this time?

His body continued to sprint through the brush, intent on seeing the mages dead. Apparently, it cared for little else.

Ahead of him, he could see the ice mage preparing another spell that formed an array of person-sized icicles before him. Much to Reznik’s surprise, the man also did not seem to notice the coming approach of a Revenant.

In fact, the spellcaster’s only worry seemed to be the current project he was working on, and not at all his security, or confirming that the monster his counterpart had just lightninged away into the forest  was actually dead.

In fact, Reznik heard laughter and conversation ahead of him.

Likely, the mages were confident that whatever had struck Reznik had in fact killed him.

Which, if he were anything close to human, it likely would have.

His entire body held a phantom ache to it, like every muscle just got done running a marathon.

We should flank around. See if we can catch that lighting-slinger off-guard, or at least deal with her before him.

He seems to take a while to cast things.

Hers was almost instant.

Reznik’s body ignored him, instead choosing to screech loudly and leap towards the ice mage.

Reznik sighed deeply, mentally preparing himself for the sudden flash of thunder as he sailed towards the man, only to be surprised when none came.

Instead, his body slammed squarely into the youth, tackling him down to the ground in a rolling heap.

Somehow, Reznik landed underneath the elf, who began to scream for help.

Reznik’s body began to pull in opposite directions on the elf’s arms, eliciting a sinewy series of snaps before Reznik ripped the sorcerer’s right arm off.

“Ne!” a woman screamed somehow louder than the wailing elf on top of Reznik. A black-booted foot kicked the pale, disarmed man off of Reznik before he found himself staring down a ball of lightning aimed at his head.

Roll! Get out of th-

Another crack of thunder and gap in his memory, Reznik found himself only barely able to make out the sound and sight of the mage shouting at her friend.

She’d taken her focus away from Reznik just long enough for his body to regain its senses, and swipe up and out at her.

The sorceress leapt back as his hand swiped at nothing.

Oh. Oh that’s not good.

If our skin looks like that, I don’t want to think what our insides look like.

Reznik’s flesh was charred, blackened, and covered with open sores and wounds no doubt caused by a prolonged exposure to lightning.

Seemingly unaware of the pain it felt, Reznik’s body rolled onto its stomach and jumped to its feet, just in time for another bolt of lightning to slam home into his back.

Turning around after the brief shock to his system, Reznik faced the mage, who didn’t look that much better than him at the moment. She was drenched in sweat, her uniform disheveled, and her hair clinging to her face in black stringy clumps.

The lightning-flinger snarled at him and said something in a language Reznik couldn’t understand.

The meaning, however, was easy to hear.

She was -pissed-.

Another blue ball of lightning began to form in her hand as Reznik’s body flexed its muscles to pounce.

No, don’t attack! Jump out of the way, that way!

Reznik did his best to force his will at his body, shoving the mental concept with all his might towards whatever consciousness, or lack thereof, controlled him.

At the last possible second, even as the sorceress moved her hand forward to hurl the lightning at Reznik, his body sprang to the side and narrowly avoided the thunderous strand of lightning cast by his opponent.

Oh! You’re actu- shit! To the left!

Left, GO!

Reznik’s body obeyed and sprang out to avoid another searing bolt that roared through the space he’d just been.

The mage’s hand dropped as she took in a sucking, heaving breath of air, doubling forward as she instead clutched at a stitch in her side.

Now!

Go, spring towards her and nibble her face off!

Reznik’s body jumped towards the woman with arms outstretched like he was going to give a long time friend a bear-hug.

Right as it looked like he was about to succeed in his attack, the woman stepped back and pulled out a short sword belted on her hip, slashing out with it in an attack that felt too quick to be normal.

Thankfully, the attack was wild and largely imprecise, merely severing Reznik’s left hand at the wrist and carving a small slit into his upper chest.

Reznik’s left hand darted out towards the woman’s throat, clearly intent on grabbing her, or ripping it open.

Unfortunately, the woman wasn’t entirely drained, it seemed, as she pulled the blade back and came for his other hand. The blow took off most of his fingers, but came too late for her as Reznik’s body sprang forward.

Both him and the sorceress tumbled to the ground in a heap, her trying to push his body off her. She placed a hand to his chest, and Reznik felt a spell begin to build -inside- him.

She’s going to try and hit me from inside my own body, isn’t she?

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck fuck!

Okay.

Body.

Puke on her.

Give her some of the old black bile!

Do it, now!

Reznik forced the idea into his body, trying with all his might to convey the feeling of upending his woefully acidic guts directly onto the woman’s face beneath him.

Reznik’s body paused in the struggle to try and shove a piece of protruding bone into the woman and cocked its head.

Then, it sucked in, arched its back, and heaved.

A torrent of black filth poured out from between his lips and onto the caster’s face, eliciting a wild, gurgling scream from the woman as Reznik felt the spell in his chest fade away to nothing.

Shortly after the spell faded, so did the woman’s consciousness - her going from a scream, to a rasping gurgle, to silence as most of the meat on her face sluiced away.

Oh thank the gods.

Honestly, I forgot we could even do tha-

Reznik’s thoughts cut short as what felt like a cudgel slammed against his head, only to shatter into a kaleidoscope of glassy shards of ice, knocking him away from the woman.

Rolling across the ground for a short distance, Reznik’s body managed to come out of the roll into a crouch.

The snowy elf was watching Reznik with a horrified expression, another spell of sharpened ice forming in front of his staff.

A staff that was held by a lone arm - what remained of the other currently fountaining blood out in short pumps.

Wait for him to get close to completing the spell, then leap to the side and close the distance. I don’t think he’s as fast as the other one.

Wait for it…

Wait for it…

Aaaand NO- uh…

Well, okay then!

The snow Elf’s eyes went glassy a moment before his body went limp.

The ice mage dropped the staff he was holding shortly after the icicle fell to the ground.

Toppling like a wet bag of sand, the Elf landed face-first in the blood-soaked grass of the small clearing, likely dead.

Well, it looks like you did a good job today, old friend.

We should get back to the town.

See if we can help anyone, and-

Reznik’s body was stomping towards the mage seasoned with his bile - or more accurately, limping.

Looking down to his hands, or to be accurate, the outright lack of anything recognizable as a hand.

His right hand was completely severed, and beginning to bubble back into place with a reddish-green froth.

The fingers and part of the thumb on his left hand was also removed, now growing back in the same way.

Also, his entire body felt like it was on fire.

In the many years that Reznik had been party to his body’s misadventures in the wastes, he’d never seen it come this close to death.

His flesh had been cooked by lightning, his limbs removed, and had been launched through a forest in the last ten minutes alone.

Fuck.

Okay.

Well. It’s time to eat, isn’t it?

You’re honestly more of a risk to the citizens if I don’t feed you than the soldiers attacking the town right now.

With their magical support gone, I hope the riverguard can hold the line long enough for you to eat, heal, and begin to listen again.

So go, chow down, friend.

His body knelt beside the seasoned mage and took a bite out of her throat.

It didn’t even take its customary howl over a successful kill.

It was focused purely on the meal.

When you’re done, and we head back to town, I need you on your best behavior, friend.

We’re a monster to the enemy.

Not Sir Botezatu’s men or the people.

Reznik knew he was on a timer to affect the outcome of the battle in a more concrete way, and made the conscious decision to not mentally check out as his body consumed the flesh of its prey.

As revolting as it was to watch as his body devoured what had once been a living person, he needed to be ready to get it moving as soon as he was healed and it had had its fill.

Gods, you could do with a little less noise, couldn’t you?

Chewing with your mouth closed is the first step to civility, after all.

No?

Mmn.

Fine, I won’t pester you about it this time.

You certainly worked up an appetite, didn’t you?

Revenant's Resolve Chapter 11

Of all the odd experiences I expected to happen upon crossing the river…

I can certainly say this wasn’t one of them!

Reznik was currently bound tight around his limbs, an obfuscatory bag over his head that prevented him from seeing anything.

Keeping his body from struggling, trying to fight, or generally do anything felt almost like continually plugging leaks in an ancient ship. An endless game of shutting down his body’s instincts before they came to fruition.

“You know, if you told me that we’d be hauling a fucking Revenant back to the dungeon like a common bandit this mornin’, I’d’ve smacked you upside the head.” The guard holding Reznik’s right arm quipped in a hushed tone, clearly trying to keep the conversation from someone. Likely Sir Botezatu. “All the tales of these fuckers are used to scare recruits in training. Am I the only one who thinks this is a bad idea?”

“Nah. You’re not.” The soldier holding Reznik’s left leg hissed back before adjusting his grip. “Orders are orders, though. I may not trust this idea, but I trust Botezatu.”

“What about you, Sergeant?” the first soldier queried in a curious tone. “You’ve been weirdly quiet this whole time. Any thoughts?”

“Mmm,” an older, gruff voice grunted from Reznik’s right shoulder. “I’ve seen enough to make me willing to give this a shot. I’ve never seen a Revenant like him before. Most of the time, they get all… wrong.

“They mutate, get twisted into shapes that’ll give you nightmares.” The Sergeant sounded slightly out of breath, and like he’d been gargling sandpaper for the past decade. “But ‘im? He looks damn near human. Only thing that really gave it away was the eyes and skin. Even then, I saw his eyes - they’re a Revenant to be sure, but there’s something else there.

“The way he looked at me, and the commander, well… Even without the lad clearly talking with Botezatu, I’d believe it if you told me that there was still a person there. Lines up with what Geralt said, too.”

Well, that’s nice to know.

Whatever gods are out there, thank you.

I might not be able to really pray like this, but you’ve certainly done me a service.

This is the first step to really being a person again, isn’t it?

“So you really think we should be hauling him back to the town?” the first soldier scoffed back at the Sergeant, eliciting a throaty chuckle from the man.

“Oh, gods no. It’s just a bad idea. We should be taking him to one of the gatehouses on the river, and figuring out more there.” The Sergeant hung his sentence for a moment, as if to properly put together what he was about to say.  Reznik was enthralled with the conversation, however - any information was good information to have at the moment. “As you know, the Riverguard isn’t supposed to be fighting the King’s wars, technically.

“We can defend the border in the event of an invasion, but that’s it, at least according to the treaty.

“With the information that we’ve found, it looks like war is coming right for us, and it’s gonna take time for the King to get a real defense up. We’ve only got a few hundred men in the town that are trained to fight.

“Whatever the Bessarbans throw at us, we’ll need any advantage we can take. Like an army of our own. Or Prussan mercenaries. Or, in a pinch, a Revenant with a working brain."

The soldiers quieted down after that, much to Reznik’s dismay.

Reznik spent the remainder of the albeit short journey back to the city gates quietly focusing on doing absolutely nothing.

Nothing in the hopes of continuing his run of good luck, of not being seen as an immediate threat by the soldiers carrying him. He ignored the small, nagging voice that told him they were bringing him back with the intent to find a way to destroy him.

To kill him, and be rid of the problems he could cause.

He hoped that what he had offered Sir Botezatu was enough to buy understanding of his predicament - what little he could communicate of it.

* * *

Being a prisoner was a novel experience for Reznik, but he imagined it would’ve been far more comfortable in this dungeon if he wasn’t bound tight with a bag over his head.

He was beginning to worry, as his body began to struggle more and more despite his attempts to keep it quiet and tame.

It was hard to keep track of time like this, but Reznik would guess he’d been down here about a day, maybe two at most. Unfortunately, the amount of time he’d been down here with no one coming to talk to him felt… bad.

Though, I suppose Sir Botezatu and the Baron are probably busy figuring out how to defend the town, or even planning an evacuation.

If I was about to get attacked, I would probably try and get as many people out as possible, if for nothing else than they would be underfoot in a fight.

A door slammed open.

Or shut.

Then Reznik heard voices.

Worse, he smelled blood - human blood.

“…Of course I understand the situation we’re in, Captain. This is one that calls for drastic measures that the Bessarban’s aren’t expecting.” Sir Botezatu’s voice echoed into Reznik’s cell with a firm determination in them, despite the clear pain. “My scouts told me that we have close to two thousand soldiers bearing down on us from the north and the west right now. We -had- six hundred at most with the reserves I pulled from the river forts, and we couldn’t even hold the northern quarter. I stress the word -had- because it’s likely that that number has been more than halved now that they’ve breached the town wall.”

“Then why the -hell- are we in the dungeon, Sir?” a second, raspy feminine voice questioned archly. Her accent was thick, words rolling off her tongue in an almost liquid way. “Both your men and mine are out there fighting and dying, and yet we’re down here for some reason that you’ve thus far refused to tell me.”

Reznik felt the ground shake beneath him briefly. He listened carefully, but could hear nothing more save for the loud footsteps of the approaching pair echoing around the hallway.

Then, he heard the sound of a metal lock being thrown, followed by the quiet creak of a door’s hinges opening.

Ah. So they’ve finally remembered I exist.

Wonderful.

Sharply, Reznik was jerked up by his shoulders and set on something that felt like a bench. Then the bag was jerked off of his head.

Reznik found him staring up into the face of Sir Botezatu, who was flanked by a light-green skinned woman with bulging muscles that Reznik had only seen once or twice. She appeared to be wearing what looked like a nicer, cleaner, and better-made version of the town guard’s uniform.

“Officially, the Revenant you see before you is a secret of the King’s Royal Riverguard, and the inquisition of the undead lands.” Botezatu backed away from Reznik with a stern face, crossing his arms over his heavily-armored chest. He turned to the woman with a hard-to-read expression, and continued; “He’s also the one who warned us about the approaching army.”

“I’m sorry, I must not have heard you correctly.” The woman grabbed Botezatu’s pauldron and jerked it back so he was fully facing her. “Because to me, it sounds like you were illegally using my town to house an undead monster without my or the Baron’s knowledge. That can’t possibly be what you meant, was it?”

“It can, and was.” Botezatu reached toward her arm on his left shoulder with his right hand, but stopped midway through with a grimace, instead moving it to a spot on his side. Then Reznik found where the smell was coming from - Sir Botezatu had a large cut through his chain mail just below his ribcage that was dumping blood in a steady dribble onto the floor. “Argh, we have no time for this. I’ll deal with the King’s justice when it comes for me.

“For now, Revenant, I am placed in a precarious position.” Botezatu kept his hand pressed against the wound and turned to Reznik with a stony expression, his hard grey eyes locked with Reznik’s own. “I could be hanged for letting you free. I could be hanged for even keeping you alive, should the Inquisition disagree with my judgment fervently enough.

“I could also be shot by the Bessarbans as they pillage the town I’ve come to know as home.”

Certainly a damned if you do, damned if you don’t problem.

Though, I think I know where this is going.

Protect the town, and I’ll protect you. Or something like that.

“I’ve recruited enough young men to know that this is the time to be honest, and not to fill your head with lies. I have much to ask of you today, and little to offer in return.”

“I’m sorry, you’re drafting him?” The woman asked with a befuddled expression.

“Agatha. I brought you here because I know you’re level headed in a time of crisis. Don’t prove me wrong. Trust that I believe in what I’m doing.” Botezatu turned his head fractionally back towards her with a heavy exhale.

Agatha stopped mid-reply with a half open mouth, closed it slowly, and inhaled deeply through her nose.

Then she nodded.

“It’s on your head.”

“Always is.” Botezatu turned his stony eyes back to Reznik before they momentarily softened. “I’ve fought many of your kin before, and I know what you can do. The enemy is at our gates, and as my men die, the people are at the Bessarban’s mercy.”

Slowly, Reznik moved his eyes up and down, a slow, understanding nod.

“What in the…” Agatha muttered under her breath as her jaw quickly went slack.

“I ask that you do what you do best, and tear into the Bessarbans. I can’t promise your safety during or even after you’re done fighting, as the Baron or even the townsfolk may force my hand.”

Botezatu’s eyes flicked to the floor for a moment before he grit his teeth and looked back to Reznik.

“But you can do good this day.”

Reznik felt an immediate pang in his chest, something that echoed in every part of his mind. He lacked control over his body, but if all that was required of him was to stop a marauding force, something his body had done aplenty in the wastes - he could do that.

We’re -going- to do this, body of mine.

You’re going to be fed well today.

Just do as I say, and I’ll lead you to all the food you can eat.

And more.

You can stand up now, and break out. No eat those two, okay? Friend. Not food.

Reznik again bobbed his eyes up and down twice before his body stood from the wall-mounted bench. Practically every limb on his body was bound tight with finger-thick rope. His wrists were manacled to each other, cord was wrapped multiple times around his chest and abdomen, and down around his legs. There was also a pair of manacles around his ankles that was connected to a chain anchored on the floor.

“Good, now let me jus-“ Botezatu got out, reaching for something at his hips as Reznik’s body steadily began to push out. With a low, hissing groan, Reznik strained against the cord wrapped around him.

Oh, well, this is embarrassing.

Looks like we’ll have to wait for him to cut us ou-

The rope snapped with a loud pop.

Botezatu watched him with a concerned frown as Agatha gazed on in what appeared to be a mix of horror and confusion. Botezatu snorted and finished pulling the keyring from his hip before kneeling down to undo the manacles on Reznik’s legs.

Reznik’s body was currently struggling with the manacles at his wrists, however. As Botezatu removed the ones at his feet, Reznik’s body twisted its arms against one another and pinched the chain of the cuffs.

Quickly, they gave way with a sharp ping.

Then, his body turned its hungry eyes to Botezatu and began to gnash its teeth.

No, stop it. Bad.

Reznik blinked once, growling in a disgruntled way, and brushed past Botezatu.

“So that’s how it’s going to be then, eh?” Botezatu chortled as Reznik heard his heavy footfalls fall in behind him. “Keep straight and up the stairs. I’ll get the door for you.”

Reznik made it to the top of the stairs without sprinting, and his body came to a stop with a short, wheezing rumble. It faced the door ahead of it motionlessly, as if waiting for something it didn’t fully understand to happen.

“Sir Botezat-oh SHIT!” a voice shouted as the door was ripped open ahead of Reznik, a tan-skinned youth in city guard clothes sprawling then scrambling back after coming nose to nose with him.

“Don’t mind him, boy, he’s on our side. I think.” Botezatu informed with a touch of humor before falling into a rattling fit of coughs.

With the door opening, however, came sounds.

Barked orders.

Gunfire.

Screaming.

The air also smelled acidic - like it had become the vented gas of a fired gun.

Holy hell, that dungeon was incredibly soundproof.

How in the world did we not hear all this? If we couldn’t heal as fast as we do, I imagine our ears would be ringing for weeks just by standing here!

“Pas- -augh- Past that door, Revenant!” Botezatu choked out, stepping around Reznik and pointing to a door on Reznik’s left. “You’re free to kill any Bessarbans in the city. I would appreciate it if you could find and kill their Mages as well.

“They’re a nuisance and keep hurling spells over the walls, where my men struggle to return fire.”

Reznik took a moment to analyze the hallway he found himself in. It was crowded with women and children huddled tight to the edges, as if praying the walls would protect them from whatever destruction lay outside.

And right now, every eye in the linear atrium looked to him, wide with fear.

How much of that is just them scared of what’s outside?

Another explosion shook the building, sprinkling white dust down from the ceiling as dozens of heads hunkered back down reflexively.

I must be in that big administration building by the square. It’s where I would send the people in an emergency like this. It looked sturdy enough from the outside.

As Reznik slowly panned his eyes around the room, he caught a pair of wide, dark blue eyes.

“You…” Luminita muttered from where she knelt beside her wounded father a short distance away. The man looked unconscious, and was bleeding through a set of bandages wrapped around his otherwise bare chest.

Right.

Soldiers nearby first.

Then we get to go hunting.

I know how much you love hunting, friend.

It’s been a while since you ate a Mage, years I think.

Go now, food on the other side of that door!

Reznik’s head snapped to the left and tilted before sniffing the air quizzically. Then, as if jolted on the rear with a bolt of lightning, it sprinted towards the door through the clear aisle in the center of the throng at full speed.

“No, don’t break the door! We nee- oh for…” Agatha shouted after him, but unfortunately for her, it was too late. Reznik slammed through the front door of what he recognized as the concrete administrative building in the center of town.

One of the doors remained in place, but the other snapped off its hinges, fell atop Reznik’s head briefly, and then clattered mightily to the floor.

Oh hell.

Smoke billowed from multiple fires in the town, and multiple craters were blown into the cobblestone square. Dozens of soldiers knelt behind short sandbag walls set up seemingly with no rhyme or reason in front of the building. Rifles poked out of the windows of buildings, and dead men seemed to simply be left where they fell for now.

There was also an odd menagerie of fighters in the square. River guard, town guard, citizens all armed with an eclectic assortment of weapons.

Swords, rifles, axes, pitchforks, pistols, and even a man in flowing robes who held nothing but a torch.

Most of the men here looked to be hastily-inducted volunteers, bringing whatever they had on their person or in their homes.

The fight sounded like it was coming from everywhere around Reznik, as if death lay just beyond the buildings at the edge of the square.

"What the-” one of the town guardsmen at the base of the steps was watching Reznik with wide eyes, jerking between the Revenant and the shattered door. Shakily, along with other soldiers, weapons were turned from the coming fight and towards Reznik.

Food!

Food on the other side of those buildings!

An entire feast of Bessarbans!

Leave the guard alone!

Like pulling sharply on a set of mental reins, Reznik put concerted effort into directing his body away from the guard with the sword pointed his way. As if to punctuate his mental command that the people in the square weren’t his prize today, a spiky column of ice slammed home into the center of the square in a steep downward arc, shattering the gallows.

Yeah friend, that’s right…

Reznik’s entire body turned towards where he thought the wintry spire had been flung from with a low growl, the threat from the guards seemingly forgotten.

Big, scary Mage over there. We should take those rooftops, maybe grab a snack along the way, eh?

Reznik’s body let out a low, rumbling growl that slowly grew in intensity to a wild, shrieking howl before leaping out into the square.

Revenant's Resolve Chapter 10

-Note: I changed the name of the enemy nation from Zerbajia to Bessarba as I wrote. nothing else was really changed in the long run, just wanted to avoid confusion! 

Chapter 10

Reznik took in the sight laid before him with a spine-tingling sensation.

After a long night of running through the woods, crossing over roads, and clearly doing everything in their power to avoid notice, the scouts had led him here.

On the opposite side of a steep hill that Reznik would almost call a cliff, sat a massive encampment of soldiers.

Hundreds, possibly thousands of men in tents, behind sandbag fortifications, and milling around the cramped lanes of what felt like a hastily-constructed city as dawn broke in front of Reznik, illuminating the army.

Instead of following the men through the cramped ravine, Reznik had elected to climb the hill and watch them from above, and that single snap decision was probably the only reason why Reznik had avoided detection.

As Reznik had climbed higher along the slope, trying to keep an eye on his quarry below, he’d spotted a pair of torches close to the other end of the draw’s mouth, which was in reality, something of a gate to the camp in the valley beyond.

This… this is an invasion force, isn’t it?

That’s what the scouts were doing, they were watching the town, sizing it up to take it by force.

Fuck. Hell.

I can’t… I can’t stop them alone, can I?

Reznik knew that if he chose to simply sprint down into the enemy camp and start fighting, it wouldn’t end well.

He might kill a dozen.

Maybe a hundred.

But it wouldn’t stop the army, not even close.

It wouldn’t be long before they threw something at him that he couldn’t handle.

A part of him shuddered when he remembered how easily the Elven telepath had beaten him. With a single thought, she’d simply kicked him to the floor.

I Need to warn the town.

Somehow tell them all to run, call for reinforcements, something!

You hear that, body?

Reznik tried for what felt like the millionth time in his life to rationally communicate with his body. Talk to it like it was a person, communicate with it on a level beyond the base hunger that it felt.

Summoning his imagination, he sent it images, thoughts, and feelings of what an army like this would do to the people of the comparatively defenseless town.

He’d ran far over the night.

Not far enough that this army couldn’t cover it in a day or three, however.

Reznik could also smell their horses from here.

They would likely be coming far faster than it took the scouts to get here.

As usual, his body gave no reaction to his thoughts.

Reznik couldn’t waste time bumbling through the woods in the way he normally would without some kind of stimuli before him, either. He would have to run at full speed back to the town and do… something to let them know of the impending danger.

Fine.

If you won’t listen to reason, perhaps you’ll listen to this…

Reznik then mentally visualized two thoughts. A choice for his body.

One thought was of him starving on this mountain. Wasting away as Reznik refused to let his body eat even a single bite.

The other was an image of him consuming the enemy army outside the gates of the town. Reznik put all his effort into showing and feeling the concept of the largest meal that his body had ever seen. Every single soldier in the enemy camp, all free for consumption.

A full belly in the bottomless pit that was his body.

Then, as if stomping his foot down with all his force on the idea, Reznik cast it to his body. Shoved it through the same little gate that let him force his body to stop whatever it was doing.

It would run, or it would starve.

No room for argument or discussion.

As if struck by lightning, his body snapped ramrod straight.

Then, Reznik repeated the process.

His body listened to suggestion when there was food right in front of it.

Reznik could convince his body to stalk, to hide, and even to an extent, how to fight.

His head snapped back in the direction it had come, tilted in the same way it would when it saw food.

Then, Reznik mentally shoved the idea a third time.

With a wild, screeching howl, his body leapt down the steep hillside, bouncing off a rock, then a tree as it haphazardly tried to run on a forty-five degree angle.

Now that’s what I like to see, bud!

Reznik would be smiling if he had control over his face.

His body slid the final distance down the hill and set off into the trees like it was pursuing a fleeing animal, wholly focused on its task of going “there”.

Not for the first time, Reznik felt something coming back to him from his body. Not a thought in the traditional sense, but a feeling, faint as a gentle summer breeze.

Reznik probably wouldn’t have noticed it if it weren’t for the fact that he was actively focusing on what his body was doing.

It was single-minded and simple, lacking nuance or clarity, but Reznik could feel the confusion and raw fear that the idea of starvation so forcefully thrown at his body had elicited.

Reznik remained quiet in his own mind as his body ran through the gloomy, foggy trees - following something Reznik didn’t understand. Reznik didn’t actually know where they were, as the woods looked completely different now than they did hours earlier.

But his body seemed to know.

It dodged over fallen logs, around trees, and burst through bushes without care.

The only way Reznik could actually tell that he was actually on the right path was the occasional footprint left in the mud, likely by the scouts he’d followed.

He even found one of his own along the way, screaming past with just enough time for Reznik to recognize the barefoot print as being his doing.

In what felt like the blink of an eye, Reznik found himself passing by the scout’s camp, noting that apparently the town guard had found it.

Nearly a dozen soldiers were searching the location, clearly looking for anything of note.

Wait! Wait wait wait!

Stop!

Those aren’t the town guard, those are Riverguard. Sir Botezatu’s men.

He… he knows undead, doesn’t he?

I wonder if we just showed up and did nothing threatening, could we convince him not to kill us?

Show him that I’m not a threat to him?

Reznik considered the idea carefully. It would either turn out wildly successful, or would just end up with him needing to feed after being riddled with bullets.

His body had slowed its running, but didn’t stop moving.

I said stop! No!

Stand here and let me think.

That did it, and his body came to a stumbling halt, staring directly at the soldiers as if debating to have a snack today.

It was good enough for him.

The idea was a gamble, but if Sir Botezatu was the man with the most experience wrangling undead, it would likely be his best shot at distinguishing himself from the other monsters that lie on the other side of the river.

Even if he went to Luminita, who clearly had ideas about what he was, and how he was protecting her that night, he would still have to get through the gate. And the guards. And then somehow convince her that he wasn’t a threat, likely while being shot at, stabbed, or possibly having magic hurled at him.

Going to Botezatu was a gamble, but less of one than that.

Let’s hope you have half a brain on you, Sir Botezatu.

Fuck it, looks like we’re in for the whole pound.

No pennies allowed.

Reznik directed his body to slowly shamble towards the Riverguard with a tight hold on what little reins he had. Even if Botezatu could see that he was different than other undead, his men might not be so discerning.

Reznik slowly approached and internally prepared himself for either running or forcing his will to not kill the soldiers on his body. One of the men searching the camp clearly noticed Reznik as he stepped into a gap between trees, squinting into the dark of the trees at Reznik.

“You! Stop! Identify yourself!” the man shouted, standing from where he was crouched and raising a rifle at Reznik in a snap. The others searching clearly picked up on what he saw, as Reznik suddenly found himself at the mercy of no less than a dozen rifles pointed directly at his skull.

Well.

Here goes nothing.

Reznik continued batting down all the small jumps of desire his body presented as he approached in a slow shamble.

Then, he stepped out from a canopy in the trees, making eye contact with the soldier aiming at him as the light from the sky spilled over him.

Stop. Stop here!

Do -nothing- at all.

Just stand completely still.

His body came to a stop.

“You there! Identif-…I… oh fuck.” Reznik’s head turned slightly as a different soldier spoke. “R-REVENANT! OPE-“

“Quiet!” Sir Botezatu hissed as he leapt forward, Grabbing the soldier’s muzzle and wrenching it skyward. “This Revenant is either blind or something we’ve never seen before. If it wasn’t, we’d have been dead long before now. So keep. Your. Voice. -Down.-“

The soldier turned and watched Botezatu with wide, fearful eyes for a moment before Botezatu nodded sharply once and turned to face Reznik, pistol raised.

Reznik followed him with his eyes, trying to communicate that he was not, in fact blind.

“Spread out, surround him and keep your distance.” Botezatu ordered his men in a low voice that was honestly harder for Reznik to hear than a sharp whisper. “If he turns on us, it’s easier if we’re spread out.”

The Riverguard slowly fanned out wide around Reznik, not lowering their guns for even a moment as they moved.

Botezatu, however, kept eye contact with Reznik - seeming for all the world as if he was sizing him up.

If Reznik understood the point of the Riverguard correctly, their entire job seemed to be keeping the undead at bay across the river. It was a job that likely ended many men early. Given the scars, deep crows feet, and salt-and-pepper hair of Botezatu, it was clear that he had what it takes to survive fighting the undead long-term.

Botezatu fractionally raised his chin and regarded Reznik with a mix of curiosity and determination, like he was mentally psyching himself up to put Reznik down by any means necessary.

He probably was.

As his men finished their wide, half-circle around Reznik, Botezatu tilted his head fractionally and grunted.

“Damnit Zarah.” He growled, slowly shaking his head with an annoyed expression. Then he sighed and adjusted the grip on his handgun. “You know, I almost wish Zarah hadn’t told me about the little ‘friend’ she made in the land of the dead.

“Then, instead of a fucking massive question mark, I’d just have to fight a Revenant.”

Reznik caught the moment Botezatu’s finger tensed a fraction harder on the trigger, as if arguing with himself on opening fire regardless of Reznik’s lack of action and whoever this Zarah was.

Don’t do it, Botezatu. Don’t fucking do it, please.

The more I get hit, the more I have to heal and eat.

And right now, my body is fat, happy, and compliant.

Then another thought came screaming into his mind. A thought that slammed home with a resounding mental impact that felt equal parts a light in the dark and a club across the forehead.

Wait.

She’s someone who made a friend in the land of the dead.

I… Zara is miss Elf, isn’t she?

Who else would make a friend like me?

“Can you talk? Wave? Do something besides stand there menacingly?” Botezatu demanded, still watching Reznik like a wild animal to be put down.

I’m not being menacing.

I’m just standing here.

Reznik rolled his eyes as he remembered that him being who he was was a threat in and of itself.

Then realized that he rolled his eyes.

He had control of his eyes.

He tried to blink.

He couldn’t blink, but he could move his eyes of his own volition. This wasn’t him suggesting a movement to his body either, he realized - He was in -direct- control of his eyes.

Botezatu also seemed to notice the roll, and raised an eyebrow skeptically.

Botezatu opened his mouth as if to speak, breathed in a deep breath of air, and paused.

“Huh. Never seen that before.” Botezatu squinted and took a step forward towards Reznik. “Okay, Revenant, I want you to look to your left, your right, and your left again if you understand me.”

Pointedly, Reznik pointed his eyes left, right, then left again before refocusing on Botezatu.

“I’ll be damned! H-he’s actually doing it!” one of the soldiers, a younger Elven man, exclaimed with a broad smile. He was cut off by a sharp look from Botezatu.

“It would seem he is, Aerhin. Don’t lower your guard yet.” Botezatu instructed sharply as he looked back to Reznik. “I’ve dealt with Revenants before. Never once without losing over a dozen men, but more often than not, entire squadrons, Mages included.

“Count yourself lucky for now, but realize that he could turn at any moment.”

Botezatu maintained eye contact with Reznik for several long seconds, scratching at his short beard with his unoccupied hand before inspiration seemed to strike him.

“I’m guessing you can’t talk, can you, monster?” Botezatu waited briefly for Reznik to respond before continuing: “I thought not. You can move your eyes, but not talk. Very well. Look up and down like you’re nodding with your eyes for yes, side-to-side as if shaking your head for no, understood?”

Oh thank fuck.

Yes, yes!

I understand, Sir Botezatu!

Reznik began rapidly pulling his eyes up and down as his body let out a slow, bored-sounding wheeze.

“It would seem that you were right, Zarah…” Botezatu slowly shook his head and lowered the pistol to his side. He didn’t put it back in its holster, but lowering it in and of itself communicated to Reznik that he was making progress. “I suppose I have you to thank for dealing with those bandits a week or so ago, and the… Bessarban chew toy left on my doorstep the other day, eh?”

Gleefully, Reznik replied with his eyes in the affirmative.

“Very well then. You did good work there, apart from sending the town rumor mill alight with tales of monsters.” Botezatu gave Reznik a small, respectful nod as the corner of his mouth ticked up. “I take it you don’t mean us harm, because you would have done so already, so I’ll ask a different question.

“The men at this camp, did you see them?”

Reznik nodded his eyes again.

“Did you see where they went?”

Reznik found it interesting that Botezatu was asking questions about the scouts, instead of what Reznik wanted or intended, even as he answered in the affirmative.

Perhaps he’s sharp enough to put together that I’ve been trying to help, and to some extent believes I’m on his side.

Therefore, the main problem becomes the enemy soldiers.

“Can you lead us to them?”

Reznik paused at this question.

Yes, he was able to lead Botezatu to the enemy camp, but doing so was not the right move. Or at least, he didn’t think so.

They were likely to set out soon, given that one of their men had gone missing in the field.

Whatever attack they were planning could even happen while Reznik was leading Botezatu to them.

It was an answer far too complex for a simple yes or no.

Let’s hope you can ask follow-up questions.

Reznik shook his eyes in the negative.

Botezatu cocked his head to the side and frowned spectacularly.

“Why not?” Botezatu asked as Reznik froze, considering how to reply. then, he simply crossed his eyes in the closest approximation of a shrug he could manage. Botezatu pinched the bridge of his nose and nodded, seeming to realize his mistake. “Very well, let’s do this another way… Is it because you can’t find your way back?”

Reznik shook his eyes no.

“Is it because they went somewhere we can’t get to?”

Reznik’s body gnashed its teeth as he shook his eyes no, causing several of the men who had slightly lowered their weapons to snap them back into position.

“Mmm. Is it because the scouts are coming back here?”

Reznik almost moved his eyes in the affirmative, but paused. The scouts weren’t coming back to their camp. The army was coming back, likely for the town.

Fuck. Okay. Town is… that way, right? Right.

Come on, Botezatu, see what I’m looking at? They’re going there.

Botezatu grunted once, causing Reznik to look back at him.

“Town’s that way. Are you saying they’re coming back for the town?” Botezatu questioned, leaning his head forward with raised eyebrows. “This looks like a small camp, I doubt the soldiers here would have what it takes to overtake the town… so… then there’s more?”

Frantically, Reznik bobbed his eyes up and down, to the point where his eyes actually began to unfocus.

Yes! A whole army to our west!

If I had control of my arms, I’m sure I could paint you a picture.

Even if Reznik’s thoughts didn’t make it to Botezatu, the message being sent by his eyes certainly did.

Botezatu watched Reznik with a somewhat hollow expression, chewing thoughtfully at the inside of his cheek. With a deep exhale, Botezatu holstered his pistol and cursed under his breath.

“Fuck. Gentlemen, it would seem that Bessarba might be electing to strike while Prussany is busy in the north.” Botezatu announced, taking his eyes off of Reznik and looking to both sides of his men. “The Baron needs to be informed about this. Along with the king, and the regency council.

“As soon as we’re back to town, I’ll pen a letter. Aerhin, you’re our fastest rider, so you’ll be setting off to the capitol with my letter. If you ride fast enough, you might even stand a chance of beating the Baron’s messenger that left the other day.”

The boy looked unsettled at the instruction but nodded regardless.

After a brief moment of pointed staring at Aerhin, Botezatu nodded in return and looked back to Reznik.

“And as for you, Revenant… you’re coming with us.” Botezatu ordered with a sharp finger pointed at Reznik. A split second later, and Reznik heard two sets of boots approaching from either side. “You’ve done us a service today, but I still don’t trust you to be out and about on your own.

“From now on, you’re officially property of his majesty’s Royal Riverguard. More importantly, you’re the ace up my sleeve if Bessarba does make it to Carcal. So please, don’t fight my men.

“It would be a shame to turn you over to Zarah as a corpse.”

A loop was placed around Reznik’s chest as he processed what Sir Botezatu had said. Quickly, and before Reznik could process what was happening, he was bound tight with rope wrapped around his arms, chest, and hands.

Then a bag was thrown over his head.

No!

Don’t move!

Let this happen, body of mine.

It’s the best way of finding our Elf friend.

On top of that, Botezatu clearly doesn’t want us dead or harmed, he likely wants to keep the town safe from us.

That or use us as a weapon.

Probably both, come to think of it.

Revenant's Resolve Chapter 9

Reznik felt frustrated with his current predicament.

On one hand, he was exceptionally used to hours on hours, on top of days of mindless tedium. Days where his body did nothing but shamble aimlessly through an empty ruin, stare hollow-eyed at a piece of glittering glass on the ground, transfixed by a sparkle, or even fight his own shifting reflection in a puddle of water.

In those times, he often checked himself out of reality and retreated deeper within himself, entertaining what was left of his wandering mind with wild fantasies and ideas. It was the only way for him to hold onto the last vestiges of sanity.

But right now, he couldn’t.

He couldn’t retreat back to the little safe hole within his mind and pass the time. Giving his body full and complete control in the middle of the town wouldn’t end pleasantly for anyone.

Nor could he reasonably listen to anything of note around him like he had in the morning.

As afternoon had fallen, so too had fallen a torrential downpour of rain and thunder. All the people and citizens of the town had returned to their homes, or some form of shelter where they worked. The few people that did leave buildings left in a hurried shuffle, often with cloaks, baskets, or other objects held above their heads to keep them dry.

Reznik would have left by now and waited for the rain to cease, however there were no shadows for him to creep through, and the guard seemed unconcerned with the rain, still marching their patrols around the town.

This left Reznik with a lack of options, other than to wait.

What I wouldn’t give to simply read a book.

At least this is a lovely shower.

Look at all the dirt that’s come off since it started.

Reznik mentally pointed at the reddish-brown puddle of murk that sat beneath him, lazily running off towards a nearby hole in the parapet, just large enough for the water to flow effortlessly through. A thunderous boom that shook the building beneath him following a bright flash mere moments before.

Been a while since I’ve seen a storm this powerful.

It’s almost like the sky is angry at us, just throwing lightning here and there without a care in the world. And here I had hoped that the guard would retreat like the people did.

But no, they just had to keep patrolling.

Why? It’s not like anyone is committing a crime in this weather. There’s literally no one out on the streets to mug or steal from, nor is the mud sure to come a good option for fleeing.

Perhaps they’re on alert for something else…

Me, maybe?

A part of Reznik was happy, proud, even, that he was so much of a local power that it could affect the guards shifts, but he felt like that wasn’t right.

Like he wasn’t the source of the double-shifts alone, and nor were the bandits.

The Baron was surely worried about something else. And judging from the guard’s conversation the night before, they were worried about it before Reznik had found the uniformed men in the camp.

Reznik heard the steady pace of marching feet and the soft rattle of equipment beneath him again.

The guards were making another pass.

Then, they stopped, and Reznik heard the front door of the shop being opened.

“Master Geralt, a word?” a voice half-shouted, half-talked over the sound of pouring rain.

“Of course, Sergeant! What can I do for the guard today?” Geralt offered back in a jovial tone, his voice slowly clearing as he probably approached the door.

It was hard for Reznik to distinguish the voices in this weather, let alone footsteps.

“New orders from the Baron. As of today, we’ve been officially placed on alert and thus, a curfew has been enacted.” The Sergeant, or so Reznik assumed, replied with a firm but polite tone. “From dusk ‘til dawn, all civilians have been ordered to stay in their homes or place of business.

“No one out on the streets after dark. Anyone who is will be arrested by the guard, questioned, and held in the stockade until morning at the earliest. No exceptions.”

“Oh my, well, thank you for letting me know, Amon! I’ll be closing my doors a bit early today, if that’s the case, give myself and my apprentice enough time to be safe in our homes by nightfall.

“If you don’t mind me asking, though…”

Geralt the shopkeep seemed to consider his words, and Reznik internally imagined the portly man making an over-exaggerated thoughtful expression before he continued in a tone that Reznik could just barely hear.

At the edge of his ears, being picked up between the droplets hitting the ground, Reznik listened closely.

“What… what’s the reason for all this? Is it the monster we saw a few days back?”

“You didn’t hear it from me, Geralt but…” Amon, the Sergeant replied in an equally hushed tone, clearly trying to keep what information he was about to give out of prying ears. “This morning, there was a body outside the gates. Badly torn up, I couldn’t make heads or tails of ‘im. But Sir Botezatu thinks he was a Bessarban scout. Said the uniform matches.

“Has the Baron all up in a tizzy, he even sent for aid from the capitol.”

So I was right.

Ha!

I was fucking right!

Tonight, I should go hunt the rest of them down.

Drag them all to the gates and leave them for the guard to see.

I could show them that I’m on their side in all this. Luminita seemed to think I was some type of guardian spirit sent by that idol, maybe I can convince the entire town.

Convince the entire town and be hip-deep in those steaks.

Never have to eat another person again, or even a raw piece of deer!

“Aye, I’ll be out of the streets by the time that dusk rolls around, Amon. Been good seein’ ya’.”

“You as well, Geralt! Stay safe, and keep that apprentice in line, alright?” Amon chuckled and stepped off the wooden deck, landing back in the mud with a wet squelch.

“Ha!” Geralt replied as the door closed behind him.

Reznik heard the man throw the lock back into place and then internally began to debate how to escape as soon as the night grew dark again.

Sneaking out in the same way he snuck in would be made difficult with the amount of rain that had fallen, as the ground was sure to be slick with mud. It would make traversing the town treacherous, not to mention the increased presence of guards.

Though, if the rain kept up, it would offer him a unique opportunity to disguise the sound his footfalls made, providing him more opportunities to simply sprint through the streets to the wall, then over it.

I just wait for a break in the guards, then take the path of least resistance outside.

Reznik heard a thud, followed by what sounded like a lock clattering to the floor from the middle of the building.

Perhaps the roof is leaky, and Luminita or Geralt simply slipped and fell.

No, that’s not right. That sounded like a lock.

I wonder what they’re getting up to in the-

Reznik’s train of thought was severed clean in two as a hatch that he hadn’t seen opened in front of him.

Staying completely stock-still, Reznik would’ve gulped if he had control of his throat.

The back of the hatch was to him, blocking his view of the person who’d opened it.

A metal bucket was placed on the roof, followed by another, and then another.

In total, ten metal buckets were placed in a half circle around the hatch. As Reznik’s thoughts resumed, he imagined they were there to collect the rainwater, probably to drink.

So Reznik waited patiently, silently from his place at the corner of the roof where the facade met the parapet, hoping that the person really didn’t want to get wet today. That they would simply leave the buckets, close the hatch, and leave.

From the hands, it looked like the person placing the buckets was Luminita.

Please don’t turn around.

Please, pretty please don’t turn around.

The hatch closed with a solid-feeling thwump, causing Reznik to breathe an internal sigh of relief. His hiding spot wouldn’t be discovered, and hopefully, he would have more than enough time before Luminita came back to check the buckets to escape into the night.

Likely, she wouldn’t come back to check them until the morning.

Or at least, that’s what Reznik hoped.

A bird hopped out from a gap in the parapet on the opposite side of the roof.

It seemed the crow had built a nest inside of a hollow where several bricks were missing.

In an odd, bouncing gait, it jumped through the pouring rain to one of the buckets. It rolled its head this way and that, clearly staring at Reznik. Then, it pecked at the side of the bucket.

No, nonono, don’t you dare little crow.

Leave that bucket alone until after the sun sets.

It pecked the bucket again. Then it cawed loudly and jumped up to the rim of the bucket, looking back and forth between Reznik and the metal.

Oh fuck, I really don’t want to kill you.

Don’t make me eat you, bird.

Because I swear, if you don’t stop-

The bird squawked, and began to angrily flap its wings, rocking the bucket back and forth before tipping it over.

Reznik didn’t move, hoping that the rather loud clattering sound of the bucket falling over wouldn’t attract Luminita or Geralt’s attention.

The roof hatch slammed back open, and then Luminita let out a disgruntled growl.

“Oh for- Geralt! The blasted crow is back again! Shoo! Go, off with you! These are our buckets!”

The crow seemed not to care all that much, hopping out of reach of Luminita’s shooing motion, landing back on the roof, and squawking angrily at Luminita. It lifted a wing and wiped off its beak before waddling back towards the bucket as Luminita waved her hands angrily again.

Fuck. Fuck this is not good.

You little shit! Stop drawing attention to me!

“Oh for heaven’s sake! What is with you! If you want a birdbath, just stand on the wall! It’s not that hard! Why do you even want my buckets?” Luminita demanded of the bird, seeming for all the world as if she actually expected a response. The bird simply cawed, hopped back at the freshly-righted bucket, and tried to peck it before being shooed away again.

It looked to Reznik, then back to Luminita in a way that felt pointed.

Oh. You’re just a fucking cunt, aren’t you?

You’re actually trying to get me caught! Why?

What did I ever do to you?

Is that bird in the woods your family or something, did I offend your ancestors?

“Oh just leave it alone, Luminita!” Reznik heard Geralt shout from within. “If it wants the shop’s rainwater, it can have it! No use getting yourself soaked over a territorial bird. It’s probably just worried about its eggs, or something like that!”

“Fine.” Luminita huffed back before pointing at the bird and continuing in a hushed, threatening tone; “But if you spill another bucket, so help me, I’m getting the broom.”

The roof hatch closed again behind her.

* * *

Reznik stalked through the woods, trying to remember exactly how he’d gotten to the camp before.

If the guard hadn’t found it yet, Reznik hoped to either kill all the scouts, or better yet, follow them back to who was in charge of them.

Reznik was no soldier, at least not that he could remember, but scouts wouldn’t just wander into an unfriendly country’s borders without orders.

Without someone giving them commands.

Beyond that, they wouldn’t just be scouting for no reason, either.

There had to be a -purpose- to why they were here.

And if they had a goal, that was something that Reznik hoped he could dig up, regardless of how useful it would be in the long run.

Reznik knew that if he just let his body do its thing, he could easily overwhelm a team of seven scouts alone in the dark woods. That was if they were still in the same camp, or left a trail he could follow.

And so he went, mentally pointing his body this way and that like an animal being led around by a carrot on a stick.

Given that it was a moonless night, with heavy clouds still overhead, Reznik was struggling to see even with his inhuman vision. He knew he was in the right section of forest, but what he didn’t know was whether or not he’d made the right turns.

He wasn’t exactly paying attention on his meandering walk the night before.

And the way back to the village looked remarkably different in this different direction, let alone the darkness that enveloped him. What little ambient light there was left him little to see but the dark trees ahead of him.

He imagined this was the kind of night used to scare little children in horror stories.

Cautionary tales about leaving the homestead after dark, being chased by snarling hungry monsters that hunted in the safety of the shadows.

Monsters like him.

He couldn’t actually remember the details of any story like that, but he remembered a feeling. A feeling from long ago, unaccompanied by mental image or even distant, old conversations.

But that feeling pulsed in his mind, of being a scared child fearful of the dark.

It felt alien to him.

But it also felt like it was connected to a memory that he couldn’t actually touch.

Reznik placed his thoughts to the side as he heard voices ahead. Sharp, harsh whispers that carried just far enough for Reznik to pick up.

Slowing his pace just enough to move through the brush near-silently, Reznik bid his body to follow the direction of the voices.

As Reznik drew near, he could clearly make out that these men weren’t speaking his language.

In fact, Reznik remembered the harsh, flowing language from the camp before.

Even before he reached the voices, he was sure he’d found the same group of men, or at least, those who were in league with them.

Navigating his body to a small gap in the trees, Reznik could make out two figures quietly arguing with each other, pointing at things in the camp as they clearly made some kind of point.

Others in the group were positioned in all directions, crouched on their knees with weapons at the ready as they scanned the trees outside the camp.

Reznik would have to be careful in how, even if he decided to approach these men. In the dark, Reznik could hardly tell who was who, but he was sure of the centaur that stood in the middle of camp, arguing with someone that looked human in this darkness.

Whether it was the human, the elf, or even the greened-skin mountain of a man, he wasn’t sure.

The centaur sighed, brought a hand up to his forehead and said a single, disdainful word before nodding.

“Tuvai!” he spat in a razor-sharp tone, waving a hand towards the opposite side of the camp. As he spoke, it seemed it was an order for everyone, as all the men pointing guns into the woods stood and fell back to the inside of the camp.

Then, the centaur began to lead the group away, leaving the camp behind and taking nothing that Reznik could see.

They left the trunks, remnants of the fire, and even the pack of the man Reznik had mauled. It seemed they carried only what they’d brought with them upon returning.

Wonderful.

I’m right on time, it would seem.

Okay you fuckers, lead me to your boss.

Reznik decided that he would leave the men alone, not immediately killing them to drag them back to the gates. His curiosity had been struck.

After years, decades, possibly even centuries of being trapped inside his own head with nothing to do but watch, the prospect of further inserting himself into the middle of what was likely to turn into an armed conflict seemed almost fun by comparison.

Of course, I also am worried about the townspeople.

I need to do this to make sure they’re safe, after all!

The fact that I’m getting to be a part in some actual intrigue after all this time is merely a fringe benefit.

Reznik’s body moved through the underbrush in short, rapid dashes. To a tree there, crossing in a hunch to a short hedgerow, staying just close enough to keep the group of scouts in view. If Reznik could still feel his heart beat, he imagined it would be slamming out a crescendo of a rhythm in his chest.

For hours Reznik spent like this, pursuing the scouts in the dark, downwind and unknown to them.

He hoped they would lead him to their camp, or at least whatever power they reported to.

His worry, however, was that even if they did lead him to their main camp, their leaders, or even their homes, that he wouldn’t be able to do anything with the information beyond simply be a nuisance to them.

Once again, he found himself lamenting the fact that he’d lost the trail of the Elven telepath. The faintest of hopes in his heart that somehow, some way she could break through his mental wall and actually speak with him.

Not to mention that she held with her the real possibility of fixing him.

Refocusing his thoughts, Reznik focused on pursuing the men and keeping the reins tight on his body, lest the scouts be killed and eaten without being able to learn anything.

Revenant's Resolve Chapter 8

No matter how much Reznik tried to cajole his body into opening the trunks, bags, or even just searching the corpse of the lone soldier, he couldn’t manage to get his body to do anything beyond eat and wander aimlessly around the small camp.

You know, I’ll grant it to you. We’re quite effective in a fight.

Unfortunately, this wasn’t just for the sake of killing them like it was with the bandits.

Gods, I’m an idiot, believing I could somehow convince you to actually search a bag.

As usual, his body simply ignored any of his criticisms, preferring to gnaw curiously at the index finger of the soldier’s right hand.

Reznik had gotten ahead of himself in his own estimation, it seemed.

Of course he couldn’t search a camp, he was still a Revenant.

And without the Elven telepath’s help, likely always would be.

There’s nothing I can do… is there?

I can’t even walk up to the gates and point in a direction, let alone waltz up like a knight in shining armor.

‘Ho the wall!’ -psh- imagine that. Just walk up with whatever information may or may not be in these crates and tell them all about a possible incursion, or even just someone they aught to know about.

Like some kind of heroic scout, or ranger.

Someone with a name like… gods, what do people even name their children these days?

Do people even name their kids the same?

I don’t remember whether or not there even were Elves, gnomes, and all the others before I became… this.

Perhaps the culture has shifted.

Somehow I still speak the language though, or at least understand it.

So it must be roughly what I spoke before I was Revenant-ified.

Reznik partially returned to the safety of the box within his mind as he considered how he would go about notifying the village of “hey, more weird people. You should do something.”

As his body crunched down on an index finger experimentally, Reznik initially had a small sense of frustration and disgust before a new idea came to mind.

Reznik had been trying to solve the issue like a human.

For worse more than better, Reznik was not a human.

Not anymore.

How would a Revenant solve this problem?

You listen to me, and understand vaguely, I think.

We should get going before more people traipse in and interrupt out meal, yes?

Grab him by the leg, and let’s take him somewhere better. Look, you can even pull off an arm and eat while walking!

It will be fun!

Reznik’s body grunted once, smacked its lips, and wrenched the hand it had been gnawing at off the wrist of the dead man with a sickening squelch of tearing sinew. Then, it let go of the arm and grabbed the foot of the dead man before trudging off back in the direction Reznik had come from.

As it walked, bumbling between Reznik’s no’s to change direction, it munched away at the disembodied hand in a way that felt almost content. Like a child enjoying a snack on the walk home from school.

Reznik had a different plan in mind, however.

He would march his body back to the main road, and then to the gates, ordering his body to drop the corpse and inevitably fleeing.

Hopefully the Riverguard commanded by Sir Botezatu, or even the regular town guard for however little Reznik trusted them would be able to identify what the corpse was, and follow the clear, somewhat blood-smeared trail back to the camp.

It was the only real way Reznik could come up with to notify them. Part of him wondered if he even -should- be informing them of the unfamiliar military presence.

It wasn’t like he owed them anything, in fact -they- owed him for dealing with the bandits the prior week.

I did good work with them, after all.

It would be a shame for whatever nonsense they’re playing at to hurt the town and undo all my hard work.

By the time Reznik made it to the main road, dawn was already beginning to paint the skies around the tops of the trees a faint blue.

Gotta hurry if I want to actually be able to disappear back into the trees.

Now, how close is right for me to leave this guy?

Ideally, I would want to put it in view of the gates, but I don’t want to risk them shooting me.

Reznik could heal unnaturally quickly, and was very resistant to damage, but would likely feel the need to eat again after getting shot or stabbed.

His body always got hungry after an injury.

Though…

I wonder if I could approach the gates without them attacking, given how dark it is?

We look human enough from a distance.

Could use it to show them that I’m not a threat to -them- if I play my cards right.

Reznik came upon the gates of the town a short while later, rising out of the ground some distance away. The sky above lighter than he would like, but the road was still more or less dark enough for him to be confident in dropping the corpse and leaving without issue.

I think this is close enough.

Once the sunrise comes, they’ll be able to see this body easily.

A small rustle on a tree branch ahead of Reznik shook him from his thoughts. A crow was perched on a low branch, watching him with a cocked head. It rolled to the other side before cawing loudly once, then twice at him.

Be quiet! I don’t want to be seen, bird.

We’re already too close, but fuck it.

We should drop the body here.

The crow squawked loudly another time, hopped closer to the road, and made a small, strangled grunting sound.

Apparently you agree with me, friend.

Alright, so drop the corpse now, body. No, no, bad.

Leave the corpse here.

No corpse.

Reznik’s body made a small, huffing whine followed by a grumble that sounded almost frustrated in nature. Then, as if resigning itself to its fate, Reznik’s body released the corpse onto the road.

Good. Now, let’s… we should get inside the city. See how they react when dawn breaks, and if we can learn anything.

Think of it this way, friend, the more we learn, the easier we can find more food.

As much as it sickens me, I don’t worry about you chowing down on a bandit or two.

Imagine all the lovely things we might hear in the city, though we’ll have to be extra sneaky, since dawn approaches.

Internally, Reznik began plotting a course out through the treeline, around the side of the palisade wall, then over.

Blessedly, his body complied with his desire, turning sharply to the left and sprinting into the trees. Through the dense foliage and underbrush he went, his body running like it was on the hunt. It responded to his small tweaks and suggestions, dodging low branches, leaping over bushes, and slowly arcing around the city in the dim morning light.

There was a small part of Reznik that enjoyed this, being able to move as fast and agile as he could, not to mention the distance that he could leap should he desire.

If it weren’t for him being what he was, he could imagine a life full of adventure, and friends.

I miss having someone to talk to that actually talks back.

As Reznik rounded to the eastern side of the treeline, his body darted out from the forest, running at full tilt across the open plain devoid of trees. Unfortunately, it wasn’t quite devoid of the stumps yet, and they were oft covered by the high grass. Even with his ability to see quite clearly in the dark, they were hard to notice.

Thankfully, he only stumbled into one while crossing, and had just enough time to right himself before taking a running leap up and over the wall, his rear end passing uncomfortably close to the sharp spikes atop the palisade.

Unfortunately for him, however, he wasn’t expecting the ground inside to be muddy.

So when his feet found purchase, then immediately lost said purchase, Reznik momentarily mentally locked up.

With a wet splut, Reznik landed directly on his rear end and proceeded to careen into a small ditch.

Sniffing the air, Reznik recoiled internally.

Gods, is this… is this piss?

Fuck.

Pushing himself up to his feet, Reznik realized his miscalculation, having landed himself squarely in the latrine ditch, surrounded by the waste of what was surely a large portion of the town’s population.

Of course.

Because it was going too well.

Shaking himself out like a wet dog and then scrambling up to the top of the short ditch, Reznik debated where the best place to set himself up would be.

It wouldn’t do for him to be meandering around town, listening in like an actual person.

Wherever he went, it would have to be hidden, and well hidden.

Not a lot of shadowy nooks enough to really be out of the way.

Should probably get on a rooftop somewhere.

Most likely the big concrete building in the center of town, by the square.

It looked like it had a flat roof.

Peek over and listen closely, watch what the guards do with the corpse.

Reznik gave himself a mental nod at his own plan and then instructed his body to leap onto a nearby roof. On top of the single-story dwelling, he spied the central building, got his bearing, and plotted out a course in his head.

Rooftop to rooftop he would go, until he got to the square. From there, he would cross under the gallows, then scramble up the side of the big building.

It seemed a good enough plan.

He landed atop the second roof, quickly crossing it before leaping onto a third with a soft pat of his feet.

At the last roof before the square, Reznik lurched to a halt, coming to a full and complete stop and hunching low to the thatch.

Not only were there more guards in the square this time, but it appeared someone had already come to his idea long before him.

A guard was posted on the roof of the three-story concrete building.

Thankfully, he seemed far more focused on watching over the gate and field beyond, but Reznik knew he couldn’t sneak his way up there.

Nor could he reasonably think of killing the man.

This man was supposed to be there, and clearly didn’t pose a threat to the people of the town.

Fuck.

Okay new plan.

Find a place to watch where I won’t be discovered, and hopefully can watch the guard.

Where would that be?

Reznik looked to each of the buildings around the central square in turn, immediately disregarding any homes.

However, two of the shop fronts were also large, two-story rectangular buildings.

More importantly, one of them had what Reznik believed was a parapet wall, as well as a front-facing facade that would give Reznik enough room to hide behind.

Hide behind, watch, and listen.

Reznik’s body slowly, quietly, and carefully stalked backwards off the roof and onto the shadowed street beneath.

Creeping along the sides of each building, Reznik would pause at every deep shadow to watch and listen for patrolling guards. As Reznik leapt up to the second floor window of the building he wanted, he froze stock-still, hearing voice come his way.

“Sorry about the double shifts, lad,” a torch-carrying guard said as he loudly crunched his way down the alley, turning into Reznik’s street just below him.

The team of three guards turned sharply, walking underneath Reznik’s not-so-hidden hiding place.

“You know how it is, the Baron hears one word about bandits and now there’s some monster lurking in the shadows. I imagine we’re gonna be up to our necks in shifts for the next few weeks until the man calms down and realizes this isn’t some secret ploy from Zerbajia to take another chunk of land away from us.” The rotund older guard in the lead said with a heavy sigh, seeming bored by everything. “Besides, I don’t really believe all the nonsense. Bandits come every winter, and I’m sure the old shopkeep just saw that bear that got killed the other day. Makes sense, really, if you think about it.

“River guard takes their duty seriously, and if there was an undead incursion, all the alarm bells would be raised. We need to worry more about those Null cultists from the north than anything across the Dan.”

“Are you sure, Sergeant?” a younger guard walking abreast of the Sergeant countered, sounding incredibly doubtful of the older man’s calm demeanor. “I’ve been with the guard a year now, and I’ve only seen double shifts once. That was when Drobeta got conquered by Zer-”

“Eh, nothin’ to worry about, boy. Just be glad for the extra pay and meal. I’ve seen this happen a hundred times before, and each time it just ends up being rubbish that don’t concern us none.”

Reznik breathed an internal sigh of relief as the guards passed beneath him completely unawares.

If they had turned out from one street over, I would’ve had to make a quick exit.

Maybe taking a stroll around town was the wrong idea after all.

Reznik waited until the guards were out of earshot, braced his feet on the wall, and leapt up to the parapet wall. As soon as his hands found their grip, his body was already in the process of pulling itself up and over.

He stalked over the back side of the front facade, as it was taller than the parapet wall by at least two feet and crouched down.

And now, friend, we wait and listen. Wait and listen…

* * *

Reznik took in a deep breath and listened to the din of conversation all around him.

This town a surprising amount of bustle, given its proximity to the undead lands to the south. People went about their days, talking amicably amongst one another as Reznik eavesdropped.

In just the morning hours, he had learned much.

There were several farms to the west that had all been attacked, supposedly by bandits. Their owners had been found dead, along with their livestock.

Thankfully, the people and guards he’d heard all attributed the attacks to banditry, and not him. He did find himself internally proud whenever he caught a hushed whisper about the “beast of the wood”, a rumor that was more than likely caused by him.

Most people that brought it up did so in the alleys to either side of the shop he hit atop, talking in hushed whispers that he could just barely make out over the city sounds.

And the rumors were remarkably positive.

That the old gods of the land had returned, and unleashed a curse upon the banditry, a horrible monster that sought out evil and consumed it whole.

More amusing than anything were some of the conversations he’d heard from inside the shop itself. This was apparently Geralt’s shop, a general goods store where all manner of thing could be bought and sold. If someone needed it for daily life, it seemed to be here.

People had come in several times to ask Geralt and Luminita how they were faring after the bandit attack. That question inevitably gave way to what, exactly, it was that saved him.

Geralt seemed to have a rather humorous streak, and answered with something different every time.

Ah, so I’m a ten-foot tall bird this time. Ooh, with horns too?

I don’t think I’ve ever heard of something like that.

Chuckling inside his own head, Reznik moved his thoughts back to how the guard had reacted early in the day when they’d discovered Reznik’s leftovers on the long road into town.

As soon as one of the men working to trim back the forest had discovered it and called the guard, it was like a feeding frenzy.

It seemed the entire town guard, along with Sir Botezatu and his men had gone rushing out the gates and brought the sheet-covered corpse inside the wall, and then straight into the three-story building across the square.

Most of the guards had returned to patrolling, but notably, Reznik hadn’t seen or heard any of the men he believed were in charge exit the building since.

Reznik hoped this meant that he’d done the right thing.

That the man he’d killed was actually someone dangerous to these people, that at some level, they’d deserved it.

“Luminita!” Reznik heard the muffled voice of Geralt call barely louder than the noise of the streets. “Can you go check the-“

Reznik lost what was said as a horse-drawn cart pulled by the front of the shop. Or at least that’s what it sounded like to him.

Reznik stood to his feet and peeked over the facade on the front of the building, reveling in the novel feeling of only a seconds-long delay between his thoughts and his body’s comply.

The square was busy, full of people.

The concrete building beyond was surprisingly lifeless, and from the little that Reznik had seen, seldom few that weren’t part of the town guard actually entered.

Large green flags hung across the front of the building, and with the way Sir Botezatu and others had hastily hurried into it, Reznik had a strong suspicion that it was likely the seat of power in the town. Perhaps it was where the Baron lived, or at least carried out his duties administrating the city.

Reznik pursed his lips as he watched a young man run down the front steps, leap on a horse, and take off at a fast trot through town.

Even as people darted out of the way, the town guards made no effort to stop the man.

Messenger, maybe?

That would make sense. Especially if the body was someone they didn’t want here. Someone like those Zerbajians those guards were talking about.

I wonder if they’ll be as loose-lipped tonight when they believe everyone asleep.

I don’t think I’ll be able to do much about it if it is something like that, but it’s not like we’ve much else to do.

The pretty Elf is likely long since gone, returned to wherever she came from. And we can’t even track her here.

It’s not like I can just drop down and head to the local bar to start asking about a pretty psychic Elf, we can’t even pronounce our own name properly, let alone ask a meaningful line of questions.

I’ll just do my best here, and hope I can get on the townspeople’s good side.

If I can do that, keep ambushing bandits and the like, along with you not getting bitey, we might be able to cause enough of a positive ruckus to draw her attention back here.

She said she was coming back, and she might be happy to not have to cross the undead lands to find us.

Reznik crouched back down again, closing his eyes and opening his ears, hoping to hear anything of note.

Revenant's Resolve Chapter 7

Reznik watched the north gate from the roof of the large, central concrete structure with a frown.

Even through the rainy haze, he could see the tension on the shoulders of the increased guard detail. Now, what had once been guarded by two was guarded by four. Two wore the hodge-podge black and dark brown “uniforms” of what Reznik now understood was the town guard. The other two wore the trim, well-kept uniforms of the river guard.

The patrols inside the town had also increased in number since the bandit attack three days ago. Now, Reznik counted six groups of three making their way to and fro under torchlight through the city streets, looking for any signs of disturbance.

‘Odd… from what I can tell, I’ve managed to slip by undetected so far.’ Reznik noted, his body shaking a drop of water from its brow. ‘Perhaps Sir Botezatu understands what I am from the reports, and is taking precautions.

‘Damn.’

Reznik felt almost sour at that connection, then remembered that were he in Sir Botezatu’s position, he would most likely be taking very similar steps to protect the townspeople from the Revenant in the woods.

‘Well. Time for us to be off, then.’ Reznik sighed internally and lamented that at least for tonight, he would not be exploring and eavesdropping on the town. ‘Back to our spot in the woods we go.’

Reznik’s body stood and darted over to the short parapet on the other side of the building, closer to the palisade wall. With a short hop, it jumped up onto, then off of the side of the building. Wind whistled through his ears for a moment that felt just an agonizing moment too long, then his body slammed into the ground with a roll.

It came up from the muddy ground and began to sprint before leaping up to the roof of a thatch home, finding the beam at the apex, and running along it. Reznik’s body leapt out and over the palisade before landing on the dark stretch of grass beyond.

* * *

Reznik’s body pulled, twisted, and then shoved the head of the bear against the side of a tree, and was rewarded with a disgusting crunching, snapping sound. The animal that was easily twice the size of him ceased struggling, stiffened, and then went slack.

‘See? This is what you get for sniffing around my bandit body.’ Reznik huffed at the dead animal that had become yet another source of food for him. ‘If you had just left as soon as you saw the pale, angry Revenant in front of you, you would have lived.’

Reznik’s body grabbed the bear by a tuft of fur and jerked it back. It fell with a loud flopping sound to the ground as it evacuated its bowels directly onto Reznik’s leg and foot.

‘Really wish it would rain. We could use a bath.’ Reznik’s body shook most of the bloody, liquidy stool off his leg. As his body looked back up to the trees and let out a wild, prideful howl at its kill, Reznik realized just how far they’d come from where the fight had started.

‘Goodness, that bear really hustled its way out of there as soon as we threw the first punch, didn’t it?’ Reznik thought as his body knelt down beside the animal. With a closed fist, it slammed down on the ribcage with a loud snap. The motion caused not only the breakage of bones within the animal, but also for Reznik’s hand to rip through the flesh and open a cavity that his body began to immediately pull pieces from.

Reznik’s head snapped up at a loud caw from the tree he’d killed the bear on. A solitary crow watched him from a low branch with its head rolled far to one side. It cawed again before its head turned the other direction.

‘Hello friend.’ Reznik thought at the bird even as his body let out a low, territorial growl at the corvid. The crow hopped to a slightly lower branch, leaned forward, and let out an aggressive, loud caw, as if responding to the sound Reznik’s body made. ‘No. Stop growling. If the little bird wants to have a snack, it can have a snack. By the time we’d actually be able to eat all this bear, it would be far past rotten. Leave the bird alone.’

Reznik’s body let out a discontented rumble, but eventually went back to ripping hunks of flesh from the abdominal cavity of the animal and consuming them. With another squawk, the bird hopped from the branch and fluttered to a landing on the bear’s head several feet away.

It flapped its wings once, cawed aggressively at him, and then jumped backwards to the bears snout as Reznik’s body pulled a large section of intestine free. The bird pecked at the bear’s eyeball, quietly glanced at Reznik, and then continued to peck before pulling a long, stringy piece of flesh free.

“Come on! I thought I heard the scream over here!” A male voice shouted through the trees behind Reznik.

Reznik’s head turned to look in the direction of the voice, as other voices responded to it, though significantly quieter.

‘Hide. We can leave the bear and hunt something else later,’ Reznik commanded his body, jerking at the mental chain that lashed them together. ‘Stop eating and go!’

Finally at that order, his body complied.

It darted up and leapt into the brush beyond as footsteps became audible, stomping through the underbrush behind him. Reznik’s body crouched low to the ground upon landing, and scuttled up behind a tree to poke its head out and watch the clearing beyond the thin hedge.

After a second, two men burst into the clearing, one being a river-guard, most likely from those patrolling the town. The other was clearly not a soldier, wearing a leather apron and holding a large sledge as he watched the ground ahead of them with wide eyes and a concerned brow.

Several seconds after the first two broke into the clearing, six more followed - some soldiers, some not.

“A… a bear?” one of the carpenters asked, lifting a long hatchet up to his shoulder and glancing around the clearing with a raised eyebrow. The man looked young, maybe in his early twenties at most.

“Might be the one Andrei was complaining about.” The older man with the sledgehammer replied, stepping forward to prod at what Reznik assumed was the bear on the ground. From Reznik’s hiding space, he had a very limited view of the clearing through a small hole in the hedgerow ahead of him. “Last I heard, he was actually considering putting a bounty out on it. It killed seven of his goats, to hear him tell it.”

“What killed the bear?” the river guard questioned quietly, almost to himself as he panned his rifle around the clearing, having not lowered it since arriving. The other river guards in the eight-man group also held their rifles aloft. The crow squawked from its new branch, apparently having moved at the same time Reznik did.

“Clearly it was little Kronid up there!” the young carpenter with the axe pointed at the bird above before a nervous chuckle came from most of the members of the group.

“Well, either way,” the river guard grunted and tapped the shoulder of the carpenter before nodding backwards. “That scream wasn’t a person, and I don’t want to be around when whatever killed this bear comes back. I’ll report it to Sir Botezatu, but this is a good reason to pick up the pace on the palisade.

“Well, a good reason beyond the obvious.”

The first of the river guards was the last man to leave the small clearing where Reznik had killed the bear. His eyes searched the hedgerows for a brief moment as he was alone, before turning and finally exiting.

Reznik waited in silence for a few more minutes before regretfully telling his body off of the bear corpse. If the river guard had, in fact gone to get his leadership to investigate the bear, or more likely, Reznik’s howl, then it was in Reznik’s best interest to make himself scarce.

Come on then, it’s time for us to leave…

Reznik’s body sniffed the air curiously once, then twice. Then, it took a step towards the corpse of the bear, rising from its crouch.

No. No bear. We leave, understand?

With a mournful groan, his body turned and began to trudge in the direction of the setting sun. Then it slumped its shoulders.

Drama queen.

When the night fell and Reznik felt like his body had been walking for several miles of dense, overgrown forest, Reznik noticed a flicker of orange light peeking distantly through the trees ahead of him. Near instantly as he set eyes on it, his body changed its stance and gait. Like a switch being thrown, his body hunched forward into a predatory stalk, slowly approaching the flickering light.

Odd.

There’s bandits about, right?

Or at least were before we helped the guard and saved the caravan.

But the rumors would still be wild, which means that these people either don’t know, or don’t have good intentions to be setting camp this far from the road.

Reznik began to detect voices on the edge of his hearing, eliciting a quiet growl from his body as he crept from tree to tree, ever closer.

Though… perhaps the opposite is true.

If you didn’t want bandits to find you while you slept, setting up a camp away from the road a ways could be in your best interest.

Though.

Where is the nearest road. We past one a ways back, but maybe there’s a junction or something nearby.

Been walking for a while, after all.

Deciding not to immediately command his body to leave, Reznik approached, curiously watching and listening.

As he got closer, he realized that the reason he couldn’t make out what was being said was because the people in the camp weren’t speaking his native language. Or even the bastardization of it that had emerged over the years, but was still close enough to be recognizable.

The language that was being spoken sounded equal parts harsh and flowing. As if two completely unrelated languages had been piled in on top of one another. Syllables felt like they intermingled and tripped over one another.

I wonder who they are…

As Reznik approached a gap in the trees, he laid eyes on the camp. Seven men stood, crouched, and sat around a campfire in midnight blue outfits that all looked identical. Pursing a pair of proverbial lips, as he had no actual control of his real ones, Reznik watched the odd group. Three were human.

The rest weren’t.

There was a large, green-skinned muscular man who looked to be all-too concerned with sharpening the edge of an axe, as well as two dark-skinned men with elongated pointy ears.

The last two were both Centaurs.

Reznik had never seen a centaur before.

However, he did remember hearing about them long ago in a time he couldn’t remember. Remembered the name, the general description of “horse-man-thing”.

While the Centaurs might not have worn pants, they did wear the same midnight-blue tops as the others in the encampment, with a small green and red insignia on their shoulder.

I wonder… can you squint at those patches for me?

His body didn’t reply, but did remain blessedly still and silent, watching what it was sure to believe was its prey.

Shame, but at least I can tell, given the weapons of these people, they clearly aren’t your everyday traveler.

And from their uniforms, they’re clearly not your run-of-the-mill bandits either.

They’re a cut above.

Maybe a parallel group to the riverguard? I remember Sir Botezatu referencing a king that rules over the land, perhaps they’re in his employ?

The thought felt decidedly wrong.

These men weren’t speaking the native language that had derived from Reznik’s own language all those years ago.

Their outfits were clearly uniforms of a type that Reznik couldn’t recognize.

Oh, if only I could talk. Or even control my legs.

Okay big guy, we should wait for them to leave, then take a look around their camp. See if they leave anything of note.

If they’re planning something bad for the town, then I can… well, I probably won’t be able to stop it, but you can have a snack and delay whatever they’re planning.

Reznik didn’t have to wait long, as the entire group save for one of the Elves left the encampment a short while later. From what little he understood of military operations, Reznik understood that they probably wouldn’t be gone long.

Or far.

They left their bags, bedrolls, and foodstuffs at camp.

Wherever they were going, they either needed to be extremely light, or quick. With a continual internal string of “no”’s at his body with the goal of holding it still, Reznik managed to remain behind the small clump of underbrush long enough that he felt confident the rest of the group wouldn’t return.

Or at least, wouldn’t return quick enough to stop him.

Still need to deal with the last one.

I wonder if I can just hit him hard enough to knock him out.

Reznik immediately quashed that idea as he felt his head tilt in an oddly threatening way, like his body was responding to the prospect of violence with enthusiastic glee.

No… that wouldn’t end well. I don’t have enough control to do that.

This is a one or the other question, here.

I either kill him, or leave.

Reznik halted on that thought for a moment, a sense of desperate curiosity overwhelming him. It’d been so long since he’d had the opportunity to truly think, be presented with a real puzzle to pick through.

Usually, his questioning was rudely interrupted by a shriek, a howl, and then immediate carnage.

Now he felt almost spoiled by choice. The mysterious Elven telepath who’d eluded his search. The Baron in the town. The bandits, and now… whoever this lot was.

Despite his desire to know more, to understand how the world operated outside of the wasteland full of undead, he now had the ability to stop his body dead in its tracks. The ability to say no.

If he killed someone that didn’t deserve it, he was culpable.

He wouldn’t be able to wash that stain free with an “oh, sorry, I wasn’t in control” anymore.

Ah, I remember how much having morals sucked, now.

No, I should sit, watch, and leave before dawn.

The remaining man at camp sat down on an upturned log and grabbed a nearby rucksack. After setting it on his lap, he reached in and pulled out a brown-paper wrapped object, and then a small wooden box before setting the bag aside.

Opening the wooden box, Reznik watched as the man pulled out a long piece of string that he could smell even from thirty meters away. It smelled like death, and made his stomach gurgle.

What?

I… that’s a necklace of… ears? I think those are ears. That’s what the smell is.

The man reached into his pocket and pulled out another two ears that he began to thread onto the string with a quiet hum.

Okay… the world’s gone to shit, but a necklace of ears usually doesn’t bode well for someone’s moral compass.

To be fair, we eat people so…

Can I really throw stones?

Well, fuck it.

Alright body, let’s see how you feel about this.

Run into the camp doing the whole howl thing, if he runs we let him go.

If he doesn’t, we chomp down.

Reznik’s body crouched slightly lower to the ground before leaping forward at a dead sprint, heading straight for the man. As was its habit, his body let out a screeching, raspy howl that pierced the night air like a veritable warning siren.

Reznik burst through the trees around the camp as the man, still affixing the ear to the necklace leapt back, springing off the small log that served as his chair with wild, fearful eyes.

“F-fuck wh-“ the man got out before stumbling backwards over a root, letting out a startled shout a fraction of a second before his head slammed home into a rock.

Like the sound of something being slammed against an empty crate, the Elf’s head made a small, hollow thwack and crunch as it struck the corner of a large steamer trunk.

Well. That was anticlimactic.

Reznik’s body slowed as the man fell, but didn’t stop, instead taking the opportunity while Reznik was distracted with the rather slapstick death and agonal breathing of the man to dodge around the fire before leaping on the mostly-dead Elf.

Nonono, wai- ugh.

Fine, whatever.

He’s dead anyway.

I think.

As Reznik’s body slammed a fist down into the Elf’s face, Reznik decided to momentarily check out. To let his body do its thing and wait until it began ripping bits off to chow down on.

At least then he could use the opportunity to look around the camp, even if he couldn’t direct his body to pick anything up or investigate things.

Hopefully the other’s don’t return before I get a good look around at things.

All I can see is squashed red paste and swinging hands.

Revenant's Resolve Chapter 6

“…Teeth as long as my forearm!” Reznik listened from the roof of a home as the victims of the bandits were treated by the town doctor and two military medics. He knew for a fact that the man who was speaking currently had not seen him, instead having been tied up on the opposite side of a large tree during the fight. “Tore through the bandits before they even had a chance to look up.”

‘Mmmn, closer, but still a bit much…’ Reznik was enjoying his stealthy voyeurism from atop the homes of the village.

“Aye, and as tall as two men standing on one another’s shoulders,” another of the rescued added further to the gross exaggeration of Reznik’s appearance.

“Ah, is that all?” Botezatu questioned disbelievingly as Reznik’s body hunched into a shadowy dent in the thatch roof. “Did it also breathe fire, throw up Nullifier magic and praise the Prussinian Empire while it was at it?”

‘The hell is… Nullifier magic?’ Reznik thought absently, his body unmoving despite his desire to purse his lips thoughtfully.

“Well, I mean… It probably would’ve if you didn’t chase it off,” The first man replied noncommittally, a shrug evident in his voice.

“They didn’t chase it off! We waited a full four hours before they got there!” the second man corrected forcefully.

“Bullshit, I heard that thing sniffing around, just waiting to be able to eat us!” the first man argued pointedly, an audible thwack sounding as he clearly slapped the other’s shoulder.

“Mmm, well, that’s all I need from you two,” Botezatu replied in a pleasant tone, clearly hoping to get rid of the pair. “Thank you.”

“Absolutely sir!” the second man replied before footsteps approached, then went past Reznik’s position atop the roof.

Reznik heard the door of the building beside him open, then close with a snap.

“Will the prisoner live?” Botezatu asked sharply to someone who Reznik assumed was the doctor.

“Maybe,” the bright, accented tenor of the doctor answered neutrally. “The truth is, the bayonet pierced his lung and is in the shape of a cross. Those are decently difficult to stitch without magical aid. I believe I have done all I can for him and your two men.”

“How are they?” Botezatu queried a moment later, his tone going from arch to somewhat worried.

“One will live ‘til the morrow. The other, I’m not sure. If he survives the week, he’ll live. If he doesn’t, or gets septic…” the doctor trailed off with a morose sigh, taking several long seconds to pause. “Well. At least one of them has a real chance of survival.”

Botezatu grunted, and that was his only reply. Apparently, with the report delivered, the doctor returned to the inside of his shop with the clatter of a door behind him.

All the soldiers who had been part of the rescue party had long since been ordered to go home by Sir Botezatu, who now waited outside of the doctor’s shop, questioning each of the people who left, as they left.

Reznik was also interested, but found frustratingly little information, save for the exaggerations of those who’d been rescued. Sir Botezatu rightfully seemed to care little for the bandits themselves, as the possibility of a monster who’d swiftly wiped out a dozen men with weapons was far more pressing.

Internally, Reznik was debating leaving his rooftop post and sneaking off into the night. Morning would be coming soon, he predicted, and he didn’t want the light to expose him to the village folk. That would inevitably lead to a fight, dead people at Reznik’s hand, and him being no closer to finding his Elven telepath.

In fact, killing anything other than bandits and their ilk might just hurt his chances of further nudges towards regaining his humanity from her. If she was here and caught Reznik in the middle of a fight with the locals, she would likely join in on their side to kill him.

If that was possible.

If she wasn’t, which seemed far more likely at the moment, and returned to find stories of scores dead by his hand, it would likely just reach the same conclusion.

‘We must be off, then. I doubt there’s any more for us here.’ Reznik made a decision as his body brought the remainder of the spare thumb it clasped in its hand to its mouth and munched quietly. ‘Back to our bandit friend then; we’ll have a good meal and be off, try and find a quiet nook to watch the comings and goings of the town, th-‘

The door to the doctor’s shop opened, then closed.

“Ah, Miss Luminita,” Botezatu noted kindly. “I’m glad to see you’re in good health. Will you be alright getting home?”

“I… Yes, I should be,” Luminita answered in a bright voice that held a slight rasping edge, clearly from the screaming and yelling she’d no doubt been doing earlier. Reznik watched in mild confusion as his body sat up from its indentation in the thatch and crawled to the edge of the roof. Exposing as little of its body as feasible, it spied the front of the doctor’s office with one eye. “After all, it’s just some rope burns and lingering anxiety. I’m sure it will be fine.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Sir Botezatu offered a smile that communicated no small amount of awkwardness, as if he were unsure where to go or what to say from there. The older man’s grey eyes focused briefly on the floor, Luminita, then the door of the shop behind her. “Those bandits… well, I’m glad something chased them off.”

“Me as well… I heard what those louts said earlier.” Luminita’s back straightened slightly, and she glanced up and to the side, almost trailing her orange-hazel eyes across Reznik’s place upon the roof. “They were lying. They didn’t see anything.”

“I’m… well aware, but still wanted to get their statement.” Botezatu’s shoulders relaxed as apparently the conversation of his work was relieving compared to discussing what had happened to Luminita at the bandit’s hand. “As far as I could tell, your master was the only one who actually got a good look at the thing.

“I have my worries about what it could be, due to a report from a post further upriver earlier in the week.”

“You worry that it could be an undead from the southern wastes? I thought they were mindless, given that no necromancers can actually control them.” Luminita mused thoughtfully, rolling her head to the side as a sea of auburn hair spilled over her other shoulder.

“So the legend goes.” Sir Botezatu shrugged absently. He took in a deep inhale through his nose as his brows furrowed deeply. “There’s not really much else I can say, but I’m sure that the King and his inquisition will want to know about the lone monster wandering the area just north of the border.”

“It might be… hmm.” Luminita paused, looked around, and then smacked her lips loudly once. “You know, Sir Botezatu, I believe I might like that escort home after all.”

‘That’s interesting,’ Reznik thought as he continued to watch the odd byplay. Botezatu skeptically eyed the area around them without turning his head, before his grey eyes fell back upon Luminita. The woman gave the smallest fraction of a nod, and Botezatu folded his hands behind his back and took a step forward before Luminita joined him. ‘That’s… that’s not romance I see there, they’re plotting something.’

“Whatever it was, it might have been monstrous, but it… it wasn’t a beast,” Luminita said in a hushed tone as the pair passed through the alley beside Reznik’s building. “Master Geralt got a better view of it than I did, surely, but I saw something he didn’t.”

“And what was that?” Botezatu questioned equally as quietly as footsteps quietly passed underneath Reznik’s roof.

“It was watching us. Watching me, even as you arrived. I’m sure of it!” Luminita revealed as Reznik’s body slunk up to the wooden beam that served as the apex of the roof and quietly moved along it. “I saw its shadow illuminated by the moonlight. It looked… it looked like a pale man. But it was watching over us. As soon as you arrived, it fled.”

“Waiting for a free moment to ambush?” Botezatu asked thoughtfully as Reznik’s body paused, rolling its head to the side as it continued to stare fixedly at the point in the alley where Reznik knew they would exit. “Fled as soon as we arrived, most likely. Some of the more… dangerous things south of the river aren’t entirely mindless. They can strategize… to a degree.”

“Well, Sir river guard, I’m certainly not an expert compared to you, but…” Luminita paused, gulped and sighed as the pair exited the alley. “Perhaps it’s my lack of education, or innate superstition, but the… it… he… tore through the bandits behind me without stopping. It all sounded like a mass of screams, tearing, and violence.

“Then, he drags exactly one man away, and leaves the rest of his kills lying there,” Luminita finished with a deep breath.

“Not uncommon, really. Many of the undead will focus on the last of their kills until finish-“

“He wasn’t,” Luminita interrupted Sir Botezatu with a small shake of her head.

“Pardon?” Sir Botezatu looked over to the woman with a raised brow.

“Look back over your notes, from what Geralt told you.” Luminita pointed to the small, rectangular pouch on Botezatu’s belt. “I believe you’ll find that the man without a jaw was his last kill.”

“Mmm, yes, I do remember his report going as such,” the older man replied with a sigh and pursed lips as they passed directly underneath Reznik.

“The man that was dragged away was…” Luminita paused, inhaled and let out the breath in a shuddering whoosh. “He was the one that was about to make… make use of me.”

The statement hung in the air for several long seconds.

“I can see why that would lead to… Impressions on your part,” Botezatu replied after taking a sharp breath. He nodded slowly once as the pair turned a house down from Reznik.

‘We shoul-‘ Reznik began to instruct his body on where to go next, only to be cut of as it vaulted off the roof, rolled as it hit the ground, and sprinted through the light of a torch to leap onto the apex of another home, this one with actual tile shingles instead of the thatch that made up most of the others in the village. At a hunched-over jog, it ran to the end and squatted low, looking towards where the pair should exit the street.

‘Velis’ house is over there, right?’ Reznik made a connection with the squat, unassuming house across the street from him. ‘Luminita is his daughter, so this is the perfect place to watch from. Did you do that intentionally, friend?’

Reznik’s body offered no reply other than to sink low to the roof on the shady down-angle from the moon.

‘You’re learning… aren’t you?’

“But I assure you, young miss, if it is a monster, it is pure luck that you and the caravan are still alive. No magic, nothing special, just an odd situation to heap upon the other oddities of day-to-day life,” Sir Botezatu seemed to finish as they exited the gap between homes and turned towards Reznik. “Just a lost Re- monster that needs to be put down or pushed back across the river. We’ll deal with it. We always do.”

The front door of Velis’ home opened, and a woman that looked like an older version of Luminita stepped out and turned her head quickly to one side, then the other before her eyes settled on Luminita.

“Lumie!” the woman exclaimed, practically hurling herself off the doorstep and into the street in her hurry to reach her daughter.

“Hello mother!” Luminita responded with a bright smile, opening her arms wide as her mother slammed full-force into her. Slowly spinning in place, her mother clung tight to Luminita, the hands of the older woman clutching tight fistfuls of the green fabric of Luminita’s dress.

“Gods, my daughter,” her mother warbled through tears, refusing to let her daughter push even slightly out of her clutches. “I was so worried! I should never have let you go with Geralt on that caravan; I knew from the beginning that it w-“

“Mother. It was fine.” Luminita smiled sadly as she patted the back of the older woman’s dress. Velis stepped out of the doorway at that moment with a frown set upon a hard-to-read expression.

“Bah, you were attacked by bandits! Bandits, daughter!” The older woman released a handful of dress to gently smack the backside of Luminita’s head, then returned to clutching tightly. “No more out-of-town trips! Your father got you the apprenticeship at the general store so that you wouldn’t be at risk out there on your own!”

Velis’ frown turned up at once corner for a moment before it fell back down.

“And you!” Luminita’s mother looked up for the first time from her daughter’s shoulder, who was close to a head taller than her mother, now that Reznik got a good view. “Velis and I owe you so much for rescuing her.”

“Give all your thanks to the king, Oana,” Botezatu replied with a warm smile and a soft nod. “I am merely his hand in this district.”

“Business, as always, Thomman,” Oana said with a clear hint of sarcasm in her voice as she began to herd her daughter towards the front of her home.

“As always.” Botezatu nodded as the warmth of his smile diminished fractionally. Nothing further was said as Luminita was successfully herded inside by her mother. Velis and Botezatu shared a moment after the women entered the home, eying each other. Velis’ frown was pronounced, even more than before as Botezatu breathed heavily, nodded once and said,“Good evening, Velis.”

“Evening, Sir.” Velis’ reply was sharp and held an edge to it as he turned, entered his home, and slammed the door behind him.

‘I wonder what the friction there is?’ Reznik thought quizzically as Botezatu began to walk down the narrow avenue slowly, with a ponderous expression etched on his face.

Botezatu blew out a breath and shook his head as he walked towards Reznik, then under him. Scratching at his short, well-kept salt-and-pepper beard, the man grumbled something inaudible, then kicked a stone down the street.

“Damnit, Zarah,” Botezatu murmured just loud enough for Reznik to hear as he passed below. “If this is all because of your little excursion and ‘discovery,’ I’m going to fling a rock at your head when you get back…”

‘I’m sorry, what?’ Reznik wanted to hear the rest of Botezatu’s conversation with himself, but the man turned down a lane two houses down, and disappeared. ‘We should go. Morning will be coming soon, and we don’t want to get caught with our pants down.’

* * *

Several hours of cajoling and prodding had managed to get Reznik’s body to finally sit still several trees back from the line that had been cut. Ahead of him was the north gate, and he watched the relatively few comings and goings as the construction crews worked on completing the palisade wall off to his left in the distance.

So far, nothing of note had happened throughout the day. Reznik didn’t want to admit it, but it felt like he’d completely flubbed his opportunity to find his Elf. Not only had he left the area he was sure she’d be returning to, but was now thrown what could easily be leagues off-course and off her trail.

‘What can I do?’ Reznik wondered as his body stared blankly ahead at the gates, having long since given up on trying to hunt the random individuals that left and entered. It almost seemed, now, that it was in an odd hybrid state.

His body was somewhere between its natural idle when there was no food about, no movement to be seen, and no sounds to be heard, and its state when it hunted - quick, dexterous, and predatory.

‘Is this any use? Just staying here?’ Reznik wished desperately for a sign, a clue as to where the woman had gone. Unfortunately for him, as stealthy as he was, his body was mostly useless at gathering information beyond eavesdropping. ‘If only it were so easy. I could sneak into the rooms of the Baron and Botezatu, rifle through their documents. See if they know anything about the Elf, or even the group who came into the undead lands.

‘The uniforms on the soldiers with the Elf looked an awful lot like those worn by the river guard.’ Reznik made the connection he’d made a dozen times already today. ‘If anyone would know about something like that, it would probably be Sir Botezatu.

‘If only I could sneak in and read all his papers,’ Reznik lamented sourly. His body seemed to only comply with his broad stroke desires. To go in a direction, to move to a rooftop, to attack a person. Fine movements and focused actions were still far beyond his ability.

The gates of the city birthed a cloaked figure. The individual in the shapeless brown cloak held a small wicker basket over their arm and a large dagger at their hip.

‘Now who are you?’ Reznik wondered at the unusual person, who looked unlike anyone he’d seen leave the gates thus far today. They walked quickly, not running, but also not exactly walking either. ‘You clearly have somewhere to be… I wonder where that is.’

Reznik decided to follow.

As the figure passed him on the road to his right, Reznik urged his body to turn, follow, and stalk. It turned its head fractionally to look at the figure, crouched, and began to move through the trees at a hurried pace. For close to thirty minutes, Reznik watched as the figure periodically checked behind it, the cowl and shapeless cloak doing a wonderful job of hiding their identity.

The figure paused in the middle of the road, scanning the path ahead. Slowly, they turned around, checking the road behind them. They seemed satisfied and stepped to a tree on the side of the road, seeming to look for something.

Apparently they didn’t find it and moved to the next tree, then the next, and so on. Nearly a dozen trees later, they seemed to find what they were looking for and disappeared into the foliage.

Slowly, quietly, Reznik’s body approached, for all intents and purposes moving as if to strike from stealth. Thankfully, Reznik was now relatively confident in his ability to rein in his body’s instinct to kill.

Ahead of him, he spied a small trail disguised by low bushes on either side.

‘Follow that. It’s probably where our mystery person went,’ Reznik ordered his body, and blessedly, it complied.

A couple hundred meters into the woods, Reznik came upon a clearing.

The cowled figure stood before a tall stone figure of a man. The statue seemed to be stepping forward from the trees behind the pockmarked, weathered man depicted. It looked old, possibly here before the world ripped itself apart, though Reznik remembered precious little of that time.

Reznik’s body crouched lower and began to traverse along the trees at the edge of the nearly-circular field. Commanding his body to stop at the side of the cowled person, Reznik waited.

Slowly, the person reached up to the hood and pulled it back to her shoulders.

Luminita knelt down before the statue, bending her head as she placed the wicker basket on the wildflower-covered ground in front of herself. With her eyes closed, she murmured quietly to herself in a reverent tone as she opened the basket. From it, she pulled three items : A bottle, a paper-wrapped object, and a thin piece of paper.

Continuing to murmur without opening her eyes, she gripped the bottle tight in her right hand, opened it, and dribbled some onto her finger.

Luminita used the oil to draw three spirals - one on each cheek, and one on her forehead. The tails that came off of the spirals all connected over the bridge of her nose.

She stoppered the bottle and set it aside as the task was finished. Luminita lifted her head towards the sky and breathed deeply before blowing it out in a rush.

Then, Luminita opened her eyes and pulled free a small stick of charcoal, and wrote something down on the paper before rolling it up tight and setting it on the foot of the statue. After, she reached for the paper-wrapped object and began unraveling the packaging to reveal a seared hock of meat.

This too, she placed at the base of the statue.

She nodded once, seemingly to herself, and stood to her feet after placing the bottle of liquid into the basket again.

“Thank you for protecting us once again, old ones.” Luminita thanked the statue, running a hand along its shoulder. “I will not forget the shield you sent to me.”

Luminita flipped the large hood back up over her head, turned, and left the clearing as Reznik watched confusedly.

‘Eat the steak.’ Reznik commanded after she’d fully disappeared. ‘It’s ours after all. A statue and silly ritual didn’t save her, we did. Come on, I promise - cooked meat tastes infinitely better than raw, smelly human!’

His body eagerly complied, darting forward and snatching the meat up off the foot of the pedestal and taking a large bite. Even inside his own head, Reznik moaned aloud as the savory spiced juices spilled across his tongue, tasting of rosemary, thyme, and wonderful, joyous salt.

Even his body let out a low rumble of approval as it stuffed its mouth full of the lovely food, the lovely offering. It had been so long since he’d tasted something he actually wanted to.

Too soon, the food was gone, leaving Reznik with the disappointing feeling of longing for more, for the comforts of a normal life once again. He needed to find the Elf, needed to find the one person who could put him back to rights.

‘Or… maybe I could just stay here. Maybe I could just stay here after all. Get the locals to make offerings like this.’ Reznik actually gave the idea some thought. He lifted the left-over bone and casually bit it in half with a near deafening crunch. ‘If they keep feeding me things like this, I could have my own little cult following me around.

‘Just go around killing bandits, saving people. If enough start bringing me steak when I kill someone evil, it could just turn into a regular ritual of sorts.

‘Bring meat to the thing that lives in the woods, and the thing in the woods keeps you safe.’

Reznik felt a prickling sensation run up his spine, as if someone were breathing on the back of his neck. His body whipped around at the sudden feeling of being watched, being sized up, but found nothing.

Slowly, he turned back to the statue.

A strong gust of wind blew the piece of paper Luminita had left up in a twirling motion, unfurling and landing squarely in its outstretched hand. Improbably, it landed in such a way that it was held between the fingers. Reznik hadn't thought it had at first, but it appeared stuck fast. Defying the wind, the statue held onto the paper as if it were a prize.

Reznik left the statue and its prize of nothing more than a scrap of paper.