Tired Of Death

"I'm not going any further! Kill me if you want, but I'm tired, and there's cold dirty water in my boots. In fact there's cold dirty water everywhere." Frumble pulled himself onto a small rise in the sea of mud and sat down with a squelching sound.

"What are you talking about? How can you not like this?" Cuthbert attempted to breathe deeply, with lungs not used in centuries. "Smell that air!"

"You mean the methane," grumbled the wizard, wringing out his beard. "We should have brought a canary." He coughed once, for effect.

"What's the hold up back here?" The figure of Dreth appeared out of the fog. "Come on, we can't get separated in this place, we'll never find each other again."

"Shorty's gone on strike," said Cuthbert, gesturing. "Something about the water."

"What's wrong with the water?" Percy splashed up to stand next to Dreth, Sprat sitting on his shoulders. "It's so refreshing."

"Exactly! Thank-you," said Cuthbert, folding his arms.

"Maybe for rotting undead zombies this place is a holiday haven, but I'm an alive Halfling wizard. Slogging through pits of muddy pools full of leeches…" he paused for a second and pointed at his arm. A small zap of electricity leapt from his finger to fry one of the parasites that had been busy s.u.c.k.i.n.g his blood. "…is not my idea of a good time," he finished.

"Look, Tybalt says the land is rising, I'm sure we'll find somewhere to camp soon," Dreth said in what he probably thought was a reassuring voice.

"Oh yes, like the last one. I nearly floated away it was so dry." Frumble heaved a great sigh and fell backwards, impacting the sodden earth with a splat.

"Okay, I know it's not ideal," said Dreth, "but the alternatives are worse. How can I go into the city with your curse on my shoulder?"

"Are you talking about me behind my back again?" The devil popped into being on Dreth's head. "I hope you aren't saying anything nice about me, I don't think I could bear that." It pretended to sniffle.

Dreth made a noise. "Wizard! Get off your fat a.s.s and move it! If I didn't need you to get rid of this thing, I'd be more than happy to put you out of both our miseries. I'm not waiting any longer!" With that he turned around and stalked off into the gloom again.

"You better do as he says," said Cuthbert, "I've seen him gouge out people's marsupials for less."

"Marsupials?" asked Frumble, puzzled. He g.r.o.a.n.e.d and sat up. "Okay then, I get it. I'm moving, I'm moving."

He staggered upright and, with the zombie splashing along behind him, started off again in the direction Dreth had disappeared. He could vaguely hear the half dead man arguing with the devil curse, and aligned himself with the sounds. Walking through the swamp was dangerous work for someone half average height, and Cuthbert had already had to pull him out of several deep holes he'd floundered into.

As he zapped another leech he reflected upon his whole sorry situation. How did he come to be dragging himself through the infamous Steaming Swamps with a bunch of dead, or half dead desperadoes, running from the greatest evil in the land? What about his friend? Had Riot survived? He had seen the others killed when they had attacked Dreth's group of course. Maybe his fellow students back at the Mage Academy were right. He wasn't ready.

Voices from ahead jerked him out of his self pitying daydream. He waded on up a slightly incline and onto semi-dry land, where he joined the others.

"A village? Who would want to live out here?" Dreth was asking Tybalt.

Frumble had to agree with that sentiment. The Steaming Swamps had so far lived up to their reputation, though personally he believed that Stinking Steaming Swamps would have been a better name. The ground they had been covering for the last two days had been universally wet. The few trees that were dotted around were sad, ragged affairs, barely worth the name. Then there was the constant fog, which surrounded them like thick soup, with the constant 'pop' of methane bubbles. Oh, and the leeches of course, though what they fed on in this desolate place was beyond Frumble's understanding.

Now the group stood in front of a low wooden wall, barely higher than he was. From what he could see of it, the barricade looked to be in desperate need of repair, with ragged holes prominent in several places. Beyond he could just about make out the faint outlines of squat houses.

"What is this place?" he asked.

"It's a village," said Percy, stating the obvious.

"Who would build a village here?" said the wizard. "It's not exactly a lovely neighbourhood, or close to the shops."

"I think I know what it is," Tybalt mused. "Many years ago, a wizard decided to clean out these swamps. He set up his base here and, with his servants, started to scour the creatures of evil from surrounding area. For a time he was successful, but then evil decided to fight back. There was a brief war, and the wizard disappeared. This must be the settlement that grew up around his tower, or the remains of it anyway. Light Haven it was called."

"Doesn't look very light now," said Emerald.

"Let's go and see shall we?" said Dreth.

"What if people are inside?" said Frumble. "We've several zombies with us you know."

"I doubt there's anyone living here any more," Tybalt said.

"What's so strange about zombies?" sniffed Percy. "We're people too you know."

"Yes, but not living ones," said Tybalt.

They wandered off to one side, following the wall around until they found a gap large enough to climb through.

Frumble followed Percy through, thankful for the respite from the water.

The group found themselves in a small alleyway, between two houses that looked like they'd seen better days.

"Come on," said Dreth, "the main street's up there." He started out, and the others followed him, walking on cobbles that had been nearly completely overwhelmed by plants.

The main street, once they emerged onto it, was not in much better condition. The desolate road disappeared into the fog both left and right. Frumble examined the nearby house, which stood with dark windows open, seemingly staring in resentment at their intrusion.

"I don't think I like this place," he said.

"What's not to like?" asked Cuthbert. "It's quaint. Cobbled streets…"

"Overgrown with weeds," pointed out the wizard.

"A fountain in the middle…"

"Broken down and probably filled with noxious fluid."

"Houses for shelter…"

"No doubt full of biting insects."

"And all ours for the taking!"

"Except for the vengeful cursed residents!" Frumble shouted as a howling skeletal figure dived down at him, yellowing claw-like hands outstretched, grasping for his neck. The wizard barked out a word of Power and pointed a finger.

The attacker uttered a sharp shriek, and blew up in a shower of bone fragments. "Ha! Got it!" Frumble said with satisfaction.

"Great," Dreth commented. "Now, what about the rest of them?"

~ * ~

Harold stepped back and admired his handiwork as the victim blubbered with what was left of his mouth. As he watched a tooth, one of his few remaining ones, dribbled out on the slow river of blood and slid messily down the chin.

"Are you sorry yet?" he asked the prisoner, twiddling with his knife.

"Bluh," replied the man.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that." Harold the Hedonistic smiled to himself as the wretch jerked about in his manacles. He took as much fun from the little tortures as the big ones.

"Bluh!" the man spat out again.

"Maybe the cat has your tongue?" the ruler of Real city said, then he snapped his fingers. "No! No, that's not it. Because I have your tongue! Where did I put it now?" He patted his pockets in a show of looking for the body part. "Here it is," he said, holding a bloodied piece of meat up. "Oh, it doesn't look much good now does it? All mangled and everything." He made a rueful face. "That's your fault you know. If you hadn't struggled so much… Ah well. Maybe it still has a use. Are you hungry? Here, it's dinner time. Don't say I never give you anything."

So saying, he stepped forward again and jammed it back into the victim's mouth. "Chew it up now! It's full of goodness!" He worked the man's' jaw, forcing movement, then stood back as the unfortunate gulped, swallowing his own meat.

"Mwahahahaha!" The laughter echoed around the dungeon, causing those incarcerated nearby to flinch. "Mwaahahah… what the?" Harold's mirth stopped mid flow as a dark glow settled over the bleeding form hanging on the wall.

"I have a message for you," the prisoner said, suddenly able to speak perfectly, regardless of his injuries. He lifted his head and stared at the ruler with eyes of pure black.