Tired Of Death

"Be ready to move," called Dreth over his shoulder.

"Finally!" said Cuthbert, throwing another piece of skin to the floor. He looked around. "Hey! Where's Sprat?"

"I sent him on a small errand," said Dreth.

"What? What errand? What do you mean?" Cuthbert dragged himself up beside Dreth and looked over the black sands, his eyes widening as he took in the scene. "Hey! Where's he going? You've sent him to his doom! Do you know how long he took to build? How many precious hours and adventurer parts went into him? You monster!"

Dreth bowed slightly. "Why, thank you."

"I will not stand by and let my son be squashed by a walking brick! I'll save you Sprat!" Cuthbert lurched after the little zombie.

"Indeed. Perhaps we should all see how this one turns out." Dreth drew Darkblood and stalked after him.

Cuthbert didn't look back, but hobbled over the dry earth as quickly as he could. Ahead of him Sprat closed with the Golem, who headed directly for the little zombie.

"Sprat!" Cuthbert slid down a dune, nearly losing a hand in the process. "Come back!"

It was too late. Even as he closed, the small and large shapes met. He closed his eyes, waiting for the screams and noise of re-death.

Nothing happened.

He opened his eyes again. The two figures were standing face to face, or face to kneecap anyway. A strange black glow surrounded them.

"Excellent," said Dreth, passing him.

"What? What's excellent?" He chased after Dreth and the two drew near to the Golem and zombie. Up close Cuthbert could see that Sprat was holding the black marble up, touching the automation. The stone was the source of the strange glow.

Even as they stared the light dimmed and died, and the two figures moved once more, looking about curiously.

The Golem's gaze fell upon Cuthbert. "Daddy?" it said. "Why are you so small?" It looked down at Sprat. "Hey! That's me!"

"What's the meaning of this?" demanded the body of Sprat.

Dreth leaned over and plucked the black gem from the zombie's grasp. It was no longer black, but clear, as if made from ordinary glass. He bent down to address Sprat, or at least Sprat's body.

"Now then Golem. Not so high and mighty now are you?" He laughed a low chuckle. Then he stepped forward and tapped the RuneBox that was still attached to the stone monster's side. "And I believe this is mine too."

"What have you done?" asked Cuthbert, totally bewildered. He looked around as the others caught up.

Dreth stood up. "This," he held up the marble, "is a device to transfer the consciousness of two bodies. I met a helpful necromancer back in the village who told me all about it. Your son and the Golem are now firmly housed in each other. A far more satisfactory arrangement, I'm sure you will agree."

"Daddy, I'm scared!" said the Golem, using Sprat's voice.

"You will not get away with this!" said the Golem from inside Sprat.

"But I have," said Dreth. He raised Darkblood. "And now, I'll finish you off for good!"

"Wait!!" Cuthbert leapt forward and held on to Dreth's arm, stopping the swing. "You can't kill my boy!"

"He's not your boy," Dreth gestured at the large stone shape. "He is!"

"Even so, I demand you let the body live. Or un-live even."

Dreth looked at him a moment, and then lowered his sword. "Very well, but the Golem cannot be allowed to roam free. Tie him up and guard him. You lose the kid, and trouble will follow." He sheathed Darkblood and walked away. "Come on. We have a treasure to find."

~ * ~

Garret Murkhard crouched down next to a stunted tree and tried to catch his breath, whilst simultaneously not breathing. Those cursed elves! They were damned good, he had to admit.

He peered around the trunk nervously. They had managed to keep away from each other on the ship and through the village, but once they left that haven the age old hatred between dark and light elves surfaced, and the following few hours had been full of a fierce skirmishes between the two groups. The natural advantage of the dark elves being on 'home' turf had been neutralized somewhat by the hunting skills of the surface sc.u.m, who were at their best in the forest terrain.

Garret had been separated from the rest of his party in the last encounter, and was now desperately attempting to locate his comrades.

Moving slowly he crawled out of his hiding place. Keeping behind brush wherever possible.

There was a sound and a sharp pain in his middle. He looked down to see a white arrow protruding from his waist. Shit! He dived to one side just as another barb whispered past.

Pushing his way into a nearby bush he pulled at the protruding shaft. The pain nearly made him pass out, and he staggered backwards.

"Does that hurt?" A silken voice came from behind.

He whirled round, trying to bring his sword up at the same time, but he was too slow. The grinning elf moved his rapier in a blur.

Garret felt the cold kiss of metal as the blade sliced open his stomach. He looked down breathlessly, trying in vain to hold his intestines in as they looped out through his fingers.

His breathing ragged, he looked up into the hard eyes of the enemy. "Please…" he gasped.

"I will be merciful where you would not be," the hunter said, raising his sword.

Garret's eyes widened as the weapon flew through the air. For a moment he felt a burning pain, and then the lights went out.