Tired Of Death

Harold waved his guards back, and they obediently stayed at the ruined doorway. The king walked into the destroyed ballroom and looked around.

Strewn around the rubble, carelessly dr.a.p.ed about, were around a dozen bodies, palace guardsmen all. He walked over to one, stepping carefully over the debris, and examined the corpse. The man's face stared up at him from death, the expression of shocked surprise the last he would ever wear. Kneeling down he examined the wound, a deep slice through the stomach. Several flies buzzed away, no doubt annoyed at having their meal interrupted.

Nodding to himself the monarch stood up again and surveyed the room more carefully. A movement, the tiniest wobble, caught his eye and he stalked over to it. An arm was protruding from a pile of bricks, the remnants of a brown furry costume clinging to it. As he watched, it twitched, and he raised an eyebrow slightly.

Bending over, he moved stones, digging with his own hands until the upper half of a battered and bleeding form was revealed. Just off to one side lay a black sword.

"You don't look so good," said Harold.

"Muuuurh," said Veronica, blurrily. Blood leaked down from the anti-paladin's mouth as he tried to speak.

"I'm sorry, didn't catch that." Harold, kneeling closer.

"D…Dreth," gasped The Violator.

"Still alive I'm afraid," said Harold. "Or at least, up and about." He leaned closer. "Tell me, why does the Overlord want him so badly? What is it about this Dreth that scares him so? What power does he posses?"

Veronica moved his mouth several times before he could get an answer out. "D…Don't know," he managed eventually.

"Mmm, pity," said the king. He leaned over and picked up the Violator's sword, hefting it for a few moments, considering the balance. "Nice blade," he said at last, standing up.

"M…muh…. mine," gasped Veronica, twitching.

The king looked down on the broken body of the anti-paladin, and pursed his lips. Slowly he smiled. "I think it likes me," he said, raising the sword.

"N…n…" started The Violator.

"Oh, but yes," interrupted the king. With a decisive movement, he stabbed down.

Veronica gasped as the weapon pierced his c.h.e.s.t. He went rigid for a moment, and then slumped back.

Harold nodded, and pulled the bloodied sword free from the body. "You're my blade now," he said.

Soul Taker hummed in agreement.

~ * ~

Cuthbert staggered down the passageway towards the cells, the guards close behind him. "This way!" he called, sincerely hoping Emerald had managed to lure the wizard out.

His answer came a second later as she skidded around a corner and headed directly towards him. Behind her came a flash of blue light, and then a small explosion.

"Help me!" Emerald cried, seeing the guards. "He's gone mad!" She dived into a small side passage as the robed form of Harvey Von McVon appeared behind her.

The guards shouted in terror as another blue wizard ball flew into their midst, hitting one of them and knocking him to the floor, where he lay still.

"He's killed him!" shouted Cuthbert, taking advantage of the situation. "Get him!" He stood to one side, pointing at the mage as the troops ran past, screaming and wielding their swords.

"Suckers," he muttered, as they crashed into the mage. Ducking back into the side passage, he found Emerald, who was gasping for breath.

"For an ancient wizard he can sure run," she panted, barely audible over the shouts of the guards, and explosions of magical emanations.

"Are you alright?" asked the zombie. "Because I can do mouth to mouth if you need it." He stepped forward slightly.

"NO! I mean, no thank you," said Emerald, holding her arms out in front of her. "I'm fine."

"I see," Cuthbert said, disappointedly.

The sounds of battle from the nearby corridor ceased suddenly, with one last explosion. "Do you think they killed him?" whispered Cuthbert.

"No. No they didn't zombie." A figure strode around the corner, and stood with hands on his h.i.p.s as robes swirled about him. "Do you think a few lowly guards would hold me?" Harvey waved a hand. "Pathetic!"

"It was worth a go," said the zombie, shrugging. "So then. Ahhh, here's Emerald for you," he gestured.

"Cuthbert!" said Emerald, in shocked betrayal.

"Sorry, it's not like I can stop him. I'm only fodder level. Still, good luck eh? No hard feelings?" He started to sidle away.

"Hold!" commanded Harvey.

Cuthbert stood still, cursing under what would have been his breath, had he had any.

The wizard stepped forward. "The female is mine, but you and your friend Dreth have made my life difficult. I feel I must send him a message." He raised his hands in a classic spell-casting pose. "Any last words zombie?"

"Yes," said Cuthbert. "Now!"

"Now?" repeated Harvey, puzzled.

"Now!" said Cuthbert, a little more urgently this time.

"I don't… arg!" Harvey's response was interrupted by a small shape dropping down from above like some kind of deformed spider.

Sprat landed on the wizards head. Grabbing hold of an ear and nose, he bit down upon his target.

"My skull! My precious skull!" screamed Harvey, staggering about and trying to dislodge the zombie.

"Bite him Sprat! Bite him hard!" shouted Cuthbert. He staggered forward and swiped at the mage himself, gouging out flesh from the man's side.

Harvey screamed again, and pointed a finger. A small ball of fire flew from the tip, narrowly missing the zombie and smashed into the passage wall, dislodging rock fragments.

"Hey! Watch it!" said Cuthbert, dancing to one side. "That nearly hit me!"

Emerald ducked past him and lunged at the wizard with her dagger. Harvey skipped back and made a gesture, casting the woman back with some unseen force. With his other hand he finally managed to get a grip on Sprat and tore the little zombie off his head, throwing him to the floor.

Standing panting in front of the three, blood streaming down his head and side, Von McVon snarled. "I was going to be nice," he said. "Now, it's time to end this. Say goodnight zombies." He raised his arms again and spoke a Word.

"Goodnight zombies," Cuthbert wailed.

~ * ~

There was a clap of thunder and puff of smoke. From its midst a small figure with a long tail emerged.

Ichabod looked down at the mangled remains of the anti-paladin. He nudged the body with his toe, just to be sure, but there was little doubt the man was quite dead. "So much for all your fancy words," said the imp to the corpse.

Veronica, of course, didn't reply.

Ichabod shook his head sadly. He looked around the room, which was strewn with bodies. "Dreth has been busy," he commented to no one in particular. "This isn't going to sit well with the boss."

A moment later there was another small explosion and, once again, the dead were left to themselves.

~ * ~

Dreth stalked through the passageways of the palace like some kind of one armed reaper. He'd already bumped into several guards, whom were now regretting the chance encounters on the floor behind him, and one serving girl, who had sensibly run away screaming. Now he was wandering around the maze of service corridors. The problem was they all looked the same, a uniform white with grey stone floor, and he was quite lost.

There was a small 'pop' next to his ear. Dreth glanced right and g.r.o.a.n.e.d. "Not you!" he said.

"Nice to see you too," said the little devil, leaning on his head.

"I thought we had a deal?" asked Dreth. "You were going to stay out of sight until we left the city, and in return I wouldn't guess your name."

"You'll never guess my name anyway," it replied. "And you seemed to have abandoned stealth, in a rather spectacular fashion I may add."

Dreth scowled. "I was rather enjoying the peace and quiet."

"You call fighting with two of the most magical swords in the world, in front of half the royal court, 'peace and quiet'?" The devil shook his head. "Not to mention nearly being crushed under half a building and killing off dozens of royal guardsmen."

"Wasn't dozens, ten at the most." Dreth turned a corner at random, as he could hear voices coming from ahead.

"Whatever." The devil waved a tiny hand. "Where are we going now anyway?"

"I am looking for the dungeons. Why don't you make yourself useful and see if you can find them for me?"

"I don't think so," it said. "What sort of curse would I be if I went around making myself useful?"

Dreth gritted his teeth and opened a likely looking doorway, built of solid wood with a small iron grill set in it. Beyond was a rather gloomy tunnel with sandy stone walls, leading down. "Finally," he said. "This looks about right."

The devil sniffed. "If you say so. Of course, Cuthbert and Percy are probably dead already."

"Of course they're dead moron, they're zombies." Dreth moved cautiously down a flight of uneven stairs. Torches lit the way, though not very effectively. It almost felt like he was back in the dungeon again.

"You know what I mean! Stop trying to annoy me, I'm supposed to be annoying you!"

Dreth grinned to himself.

"Did you hear that?" asked the devil.

"All I can hear is some annoying whining in my ear," Dreth said, but he could hear it. Screaming, coming from somewhere ahead.

"I know that scream," he said. "It's Cuthbert, or your names' not Bethany!"

"Ha! Nowhere near," the devil sniffed. "Bethany's a girls' name anyway."

Dreth broke into a jog, following the noises. He ran up a corridor towards a pile of corpses, more palace guards. One of them was holding a large kettle for some reason. The screams were coming from a side passage. He slowed and moved quietly, listening.

"Goodnight zombies!"

Dreth turned the corner. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything," he said.

A figure in long robes, his head and side bleeding, swivelled around to meet him.

"You!" said Dreth.

"You!" said Harvey. "You should be dead."

"Sorry to disappoint," Dreth replied, raising his sword. "And now…"

"Curses!" cried the wizard. With a fluid gesture he brought both hands forward. A fireball erupted from his fists.

Dreth ducked, holding Darkblood in front of him. The fireball glanced off the sword, flying past Dreth and slamming into the corridor wall behind him, exploding with enough force to knock him down.

When he managed to regain his feet, the wizard had gone.

"Damn," he said.

"Took you long enough," said Cuthbert, dusting himself down.

"No need for thanks," Dreth frowned. "Where are the others?"

"Percy should be bringing them here about now," said the zombie. He looked down at Sprat. "You did very well son. Good boy!"

"Thanks daddy!" beamed Sprat. "I bit that man good!"

"What did he taste like?" asked Cuthbert.

"Tangy."

Dreth walked over to Emerald, who was lying on the floor and groaning. "Have a nice nap?" he asked.

Emerald said a bad word and sat up.

"What happened to your arm?" asked Cuthbert.

"I'm trying to lose weight," said Dreth. "Come on, let's go and find the others and get out of here. I'm getting tired of the big city life."

They moved off, leaving the blood of Harvey drying on the cold stone floor.

~ * ~

"Get out!"

There was a small clap of thunder, and the messenger imp disappeared, leaving the Overlord glaring at the remaining puff of smoke.

"Curse Dreth!" he snarled to himself, trying to control his temper. "Curse these bumbling minions!" He brought his fist down on his desk, smashing it in two with a loud crash.

Ignoring the splintered wood, he spun about and strode to the bookshelf that lined one wall of his study. He moved along until he located a solitary black book, which was sitting alone on a space on the shelf, as if all the other books were afraid of it.

He started to reach out, but then hesitated. Perhaps there was another way? No. There was no option. Dreth couldn't be allowed to reach him!

The Overlord pulled the giant tome from the shelf and carried it to his book stand. It was surprisingly light. Placing it on the stand, he looked at the ancient volume for a moment more. The black leather cover, or what one assumed was leather anyway, seemed to absorb all light. It had no title, no artistic design on the front. It was simply deep, deep black.

He closed his eyes and composed himself. Maybe a dragon? He had several on staff. No, he needed to fight fire with fire. Or in this case undeath with undeath.

Making the decision, the Overlord opened the Necromanticon, and started to read.