“It’s just a scratch!” He protested, then shivered.
“Kill him, Captain, please… give him mercy and spare us,” Bekka said, turning to Aidan and pleading.
“Captain, what is she on about? This wound is nothing,” Aidan said, addressing Dexter.
“Rosh, get him off my ship,” Dexter said.
Rosh looked at Dexter then turned to the man, reaching out to carry out his orders.
“Now wait just a damned minute!” Aidan said.
The man roared and staggered away from Rosh’s reaching grip before falling to his knees. His hair drenched with sweat and his skin flushed with fever, he let his head loll while his chest heaved.
“Kaskins, are you-“ Aidan asked the man, taking a step forward.
His head shot up, revealing the face of a madman. Kaskins, or the man who had been Kaskins, sprung forward, slamming into Aidan and knocking him to the decking. Before he could clamp his hungry jaws on Aidan another shot rang out, jerking him back from the army Captain.
Kaskins twitched on the deck and his blood pumped steadily out of the gaping wound in the side of his neck. Jenna reloaded her pistol, silently reminding Dexter to do the same. No words needed to be spoken, Rosh picked up the body and tossed it overboard. The commander of the task force rose to his feet mute and shaken.
A sound emerged from the fog shrouded ruins. It was an unholy moan, weaving in and out of the rocks, that sent a chill to the bone.
“What have we done?” Aidan whispered in horror.
Chapter 9: The Price of Betrayal
“How long will it last?” Dexter asked, looking out at the swirling fog and the moaning and groaning mysteries within it.
“The mists?” Jenna asked. “How are we to know?”
“No,” Dexter said, turning to Xander. “Your spell… how long until it fades?”
Xander stared into the mists, his eyes wide at the shadowy forms of the fallen soldiers that walked again. They circled around the Voidhawk, held at bay by the wizard’s protective circle. “Until I let it fade,” he said. “Or if any of it is disturbed.” He thought for a moment, “I suppose it could consume the diamond dustings, but that would take a very long time… hundreds or thousands of years.”
“So you’re saying we’re safe then?” Rosh asked.
“Well,” Xander said, “only so long as I keep it focused and channeling the magical energies.”
“What’s that mean?” Dexter snapped, annoyed at the wizard’s tendency to over-complicate simple things.
“Sleep,” Bekka answered. “As long as he’s awake, he can keep it working.”
“Thank you,” Dexter said in exasperation. “Well then, let’s get to it! We’ve got a lot of work to do.”
Dexter snapped off orders, giving everyone a task, Aidan and Xander were left free of duties, the former because Dexter did not want him getting in the way and the latter because he did not want to run any risk of the wizard being injured or tiring him out.
As they turned to leave Rosh wandered close to Xander, making the wizard’s eyes widen as he tried to lean away from the larger man. “You ain’t feeling sleepy, are ya?”
Xander shook his head. “Less so now,” he said.
“Good, you let me know if you need a good waking up,” Rosh offered. He smiled, but to Xander it seemed threatening.
The wizard nodded and managed a weak smile in return, then excused himself and hurried off to another part of the deck.
Jenna worked with Bekka, helping her with the sails as the sorceress used her talent at sewing and her understanding of the magical fabric to mend it. Jenna had no such talents, but she could move the heavy fabric and provide whatever the bald half-elf needed.
“Bekka?” Jenna asked her after several long minutes of silence. “You said you’ve seen this before, what is it?”
Bekka shivered at the memory and took a deep breath before responding. “I lived in a small colony of exiles… people like me that were banished or unwelcome among the Elven Empire.”
Jenna closed her eyes for a moment and sighed. She would not deny it, she knew such things happened. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“It was not you that did it, feel no shame.”
Jenna shrugged. “Maybe, but the elves who did make you feel that way will never apologize, so I shall do it for them.”
Bekka smiled her appreciation. “The Captain wears off on us all, I think.”
Jenna smiled in return. “Yes, it’s irritating at times.”
Bekka’s hands worked of their own accord, mending the sail while she returned to her story. “A ship crashed on the mean near where we lived. We search for survivors, figuring the Elven Navy had damaged a smuggler and anyone who had been an enemy of the elves was a friend to us. All we found was an urn.”
“Those that opened it never returned, instead they unleashed a fog much like that one,” she said, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “Anyone that was caught in it ended up like that man did, driven mad and lusting for flesh and blood.”
“And those they bit turned too.”
“Once we knew what was happening, we ran. The fog eventually disappeared, either returning whence it came or dispersing on the wind. That was when we met the living zombies.” Bekka stopped sewing and took a deep breath.
“They could be stopped, but they were so many,” she whispered. “Friends and family, brothers and sisters…”
“Their bodies lived, but their minds were gone.” She stopped and looked at Jenna, her eyes focusing as she blinked away the painful memories. “Kill them as you can, they will die and be no more. Already they are dead to the world.”
“How did you get away from them? Did enough of your people escape to kill them all?” Jenna asked, caught up in the tale and the painful way she told it.
Bekka shook her head. “I was young, less than a score of years old. Only a few of us got away, and they seemed to know where we were, attacking us again and again.”
“Raving and violent, they possessed some knowledge of who they once were, or had the memories of the person that they once were, at least. Make no mistake there is no morality in them. No conscience and no mercy.”
“Three of us escaped, but only by going where they would not expect us: to the wreckage of the ship that crashed. It was there that we found the urn. It was sealed again and we refused to have anything to do with it.”
“Instead we found a small boat amongst the wreckage that we used to escape the moon. An older boy named Harlon defended us against the walking dead. Harlon had been hurt, gouged by their fingernails but not bitten. Without healing magic, the injuries were too much and he fell asleep and never woke again.” She looked out at the ruins. “The poison is in their mouths and their blood.”
With a heavy sigh, she continued. “The other survivor and I were picked up outside of Elven space by a smuggler. He became the cook’s monkey and I… well, I’m here now. I’ve no idea what happened to him, that was a long time ago, it seems. Over a dozen years.”
Jenna sat back and blew out the breath she had been holding. “Such… wow. I never knew. I’ve heard of outposts and colonies of those the elves thought unfit for their beautiful cities and ports, but I never really understood it until now.”
“Did you ever find out who the ship belonged to?” Jenna asked a moment later.
Bekka shrugged. “Does it matter?”
Jenna nodded, “Yes, yes I think it does.”
“Not really. There were no corpses from the crash. The ship had been abandoned.”
Jenna’s eyes widened.
Bekka reached over to her and laid her hand on Jenna’s. “It does my heart good to see the fire that burns in your heart and is kindled by the Captain.” She looked over the edge of the ship and into the mists. “You should go to him, while we still have time.”
Jenna followed her gaze. The mists appeared to be thinning. While it should have been relieving to see that, instead it bothered her. It meant that the shadowy forms moving through the fog around their ship would soon be visible.