Dais of Undead

Millions of houses mark the slums. Farther in is another wall where tall spires loom. Trees are growing everywhere, some bursting from the houses, and zombies lurk on the streets. Off in the east end I see a large building with stain glass windows and a fenced garden. At the center of the city is a gigantic black castle atop the taller buildings as if standing on and protected by elevation. I'm getting a good feeling from the place, like from the refreshing rocks.

I'll check out the garden first. Open spaces might mean a place where people are buried. I start climbing down.

I smell something weird. My body stiffens. I stop my breathing. The plants are emitting poison gas. Seriously? Good thing I don't need to breathe to live. When I near the bottom, townsfolk are walking to the wall and clawing it, as if trying to get to me. They all have their skins intact. It looks odd seeing faces so seemingly alive, open their mouths and say "AAAAHHHHH".

I'll think of it as a welcoming party. I fall and crash into the crowd. They waste no time in dogpiling me. I hoist my axe and spin it around at the crowd. Body parts fly as it hews the masses. They're easier to beat than the armed ones I encountered earlier.

I head for the designated location. The garden is inside the slums, so I need to navigate them in order to get there. I enter the narrow streets. The houses are in good shape considering the plants growing on them.

Hands burst from windows to grab me. I duck. I hear moans from behind me, getting closer. I cut to the right. A tree blocks the way. It didn't have spines on it, or leaves. It is all wood, with branches torn into the neighboring houses. I jump, kick the base of the tree to gain height, and grab the roof of the house.

I see the group of zombies I killed. They are steadily coming after me in the streets. I'm fairly certain I chopped them to bloody bits. Did they regenerate?

An arrow hits my side and doesn't even cause me to flinch. I jump to the next building before two more fly. Down the lane, I can see a guard squad. I squint my eyes. Their armor and bows are beautiful, and their faces are as well. They're elven!

They launch more arrows. Have to keep moving. I can see the place in the distance. Worry about the history later. I trip suddenly. A root gets ahold of my ankle. I chop it off as a volley of arrows rain on me. I roll off the building.

A posse of zombies are flanking me from both sides. I come to meet them. Narrow corridor; can't swing freely. Time to try something stupid.

I run and use my lizard leg and push off. I somersault, swinging my halberd above me, splitting their heads in half and landing on the other side. I slice the ones I didn't get as they came the first time. Their heads are coming together and they're getting up. They aren't even bleeding.

I get to a wider main street and can see the garden ahead. I dash for it. The elven guards track me down from behind. I hide inside a house before their arrows hit me. The house I'm in happens to have had its walls blown open. I see several of the corpse monster things in them. They hiss and lash their flesh-tentacles at me. I dodge and move on.

The elves wait and fire once I'm out of cover. One grazes my cheek, two land in my legs, and one in my torso. I hobble behind cover again, and pull the arrows in my leg out. I feel the old feathers scrape and damage the muscles inside. I hold my breath held while I get them out. Should I go after them? No. They'll just regenerate, so I'll just break their weapons. Moans everywhere. Is the entire city populated by zombies? If I can hide behind the gates, that should keep them out. Just go for it. I vault out of another building and sprint for the gates. The elves can't keep up; I'm almost there.

The gate's too high to jump over. Got an idea. I switch my halberd with a spear and vault over the gate. I fly and manage to make it over, but unfortunately clip the top. I flip over it and crash to the cobblestone path.

The zombies come and claw at the gates. There's a lock on the inside of the gate and hooks where metal logs brace it. They could climb over but I guess they're too stupid to figure that out.

The building is smaller than it first appeared. The spider lilies and marigolds grow next to crumbled tombstones. I'm getting a somber feeling.

Two giant zombies rise from the bushes. They look like roided out humans and carry oversized axes. They move towards the gate. Their gait is weird, not like a zombie's but not like a human's, either. I hang my ax over my shoulders.

"Can you talk?"

They walk past me and address the crowd of zombies instead. Am I not worth it? The door to the building opens. A person comes out wearing a mask and black garments. Not a speck of skin can be seen beneath the clothes and gloves.

"In here, quickly!" The voice sounds male.

I go inside and he shuts the door behind me. Rows of pews lead to a white alter. The place isn't anything special, cheap even. "We're not safe yet, in here." He goes to the alter. He presses a hidden pad and a stone slab moves to reveal a staircase.

I don't follow him. "Are you the necromancer?"

The person stiffens. "I am."

I smile. "I'm after your head, you know." It's a bluff but I can't have repeat of what happened last time. I want to be in control.

He didn't answer for a moment. "No, you aren't here to kill me. The mercenary's guild would never assign only one person to a dangerous mission. This city is well-known for its hazards and you aren't wearing the slightest bit of protection for it."

I shrug. I may want to pay that guild a visit. "You got me, I'm not sent by anyone." I lean on my halberd. "I've got no reason to trust you, though."

He points at the arrow in my side. "Do you not care about that? We should remove it before it kills you, and I have the tools to-"

"Not necessary."

"If I may be so bold, why are you here?"

"I want answers. Did you make me?"

He gives me a befuddled look. "What do you mean?"

"Guess not. Just so you know, if you're playing dumb, there will be consequences."

The person stomps his feet. "This is my temporary home. Who are you to threaten me!? Don't presume to think I can't defend myself." From the man's clothes he produces a small cube. It's made of wicker wood and engraved with runes that glow. It spins in the mans palm.

I'm being rude. Guess I'm still angry at those men. "That came out wrong. I mean I won't like it if you're lying to me."

"Your word choice doesn't change the meaning."

"Ahm, uuuhhh." I don't know how to talk to people. Both of us say nothing in an awkward silence. I look away.

"Perhaps we've started off on the wrong foot."

"Yes, we have."

"Let's have some tea inside the crypt. The zombies won't leave unless we hide ourselves and I can't take off my equipment."

I nod my reply and reluctantly descend the steps into the tombs below. Torches light the way down. I keep my distance from him and that spinning toy. The way he's moving is different from the humans before; it's graceful and long.

The bottom leads to a long hallway lined with coffins. Some are open and I can see corpses lying there. Humans are cut open from the stomach and their organs stuck with needles and hooked up to machines and odd instruments I can't fathom. Incense smelling of citrus burns to keep the smell of death away.

At the end of the hallway is a lone room. In the middle there is an operating table with a man's skull peeled from the skin and cut out with the brain next to it. The man is naked, and his veins and arteries are abnormally visible in his arms and legs. To the side of the room is a desk with notes posted the wall, stacks of sloppily kept books on a tabletop, an unkempt bed, a stove, a foul-smelling bucket, and a corner stacked with barrels and sacks. I was expecting something grander than this.

The person sets about making a pot of tea by mixing water and tea leaves into a pot and boiling it on the stove. The man pulls his mask off so I can see his visage.

He is an elf. His eyes are red rubies and he has similar angular features to mine. However, he is rather old, and his withering hair is part gray, part dirty blonde. His lips are dry and drawn in - like a prune.

"My name is Shoenlein Silam, 57th to the line of the Silam family."

I scoff. "Is the title supposed to impress me?"

"No," he says flatly.

He looks at me as if asking for my name. "I don't have a name."

"I see." I could tell he thinks I don't want to tell him. "Perhaps you'll let me look at your wound. You've been acting stoic long enough."

From the way he's acting he probably didn't make me, but I'll be able to tell for certain when I get his reaction. "Be my guest."

He approaches and crouches to see my wound. The arrow pierced clear through my tunic and chain shirt, the zombie elves must be strong like I am. The cube spins and the arrow shaft gets cut by an invisible force. He throws that half of the arrow away and I lift my shirts for him.

His face twists and contorts into something between shock and horror. "W-what is this?" He lightly touches the countless stab wounds and the arrow lodged in my guts. The wounds did not heal in the slightest., Instead, the blood dried onto them into a gooey mess. He pinches his forehead. "Are you-what are you?"

"I was hoping you could tell me."

He scratches away some of the blood scabs and notices the stitches and how my body is composed of multiple people. His entire body convulses, and his face becomes a wrinkly raisin. He staggers backwards. "T-t-t-t-t-t-t-the tea is ready." So much for the arrow. I can't tell whether he's scared or astounded.

I sit at the prepared table while he pours the tea into dull metal cups. His hand is unsteady and almost spills boiling tea on the table. We sit together between candlelight.

He takes a few breaths to calm himself. "You say you don't know your name. I assume that is because you've lost your memories. Have you died in your past?"

I sip the tea. Light and bitter. I think I'd prefer it sweeter. "I'm not entirely sure. I woke up in a pile of dead bodies, so I think so."

He excitedly slams the table with both hands, startling me. "Forgive me if this sounds crude. but may I study your body?" He retreats and averts his eyes. "Oh no, I don't mean study your body in that way. Only for research I assure you. Agh that sounds worse."

"What?" Is he trying to imply something?

"I apologize for my outburst. I have a habit of blurting things out." He laughs to himself.

"I don't care if you look at my body." I start taking off my clothes.

"No, no. Keep them on. Please keep them on. For now, I just want to check your vitals. Your hand, please."

I give him my left hand. He looks at it for a minute before wringing his hands. "This is a human arm!?" He rolls up my sleeves. He touches the place where I burned my flesh. The cube near him glows and I feel strange where he touches. "The tissue here is fused? No pulse, low temperature, muscle atrophy. I see stitches on your shoulder, and it's malformed."

He shivers vigorously in sweat. "This is unfathomable. Utterly unfathomable."

"Are you okay?" I ask out of courtesy.

He gulps. "Ah, yes. I-I feel it is necessary, now, to see your entire body. A dissection, even. Would you permit me to cut open your body to see inside? I'm sure you don't feel pain as the nerves are dead."

"Don't push your luck."

He sips his own tea. "My apologies. You are the first specimen I've seen to have been revived from the dead."

"There are other zombies."

"The zombies outside are not intelligent. They are merely puppets controlled by concentrated mana. In terms of intelligence they have even less than a baby's, only having the will to perpetuate its physical existence by seeking out sources of mana."

That explains why the rocks and that man's brain felt refreshing, and why I don't feel numb right now. "Do living creatures have mana?"

"Everything has mana, it's just that mana tends to collect in certain areas, like a living being's brain. When enough mana has gathered it can manifest itself via physical phenomenon."

The question I've been waiting to be answered: "What about me? Am I a living creature?"

He shakes his head. "Hard to say. Your mana could be keeping your brain alive and is acting as a nervous system, or your consciousness is entirely made of magic and is using your body as a host of sorts. I can tell from the scar on your head that someone has looked at your brain. Can't know, precisely what they saw unless it's, ah, on the table, as it were."

"If someone looked at my brain does that mean they killed me? Do you know anything about them?"

"All I can say is, while I was still in Eloria I heard that a number of people went missing. The victims tended to have few family ties and lived alone. None of the victims were human. Likewise, the pile of stitched corpses you came from also have no human parts."

"Tch, humans, I knew it."

"Have you a bone to pick with them?"

"Aren't they," I search for the words, "barbaric sex-driven meat-eaters?"

He takes a concerned look at me. "I. . . suppose that isn't an uncommon view. I thought you said you had no memories."

"I ran into some humans after I lost my memories. They tried to rape me." It's hard for me to say that for some reason. "Before I killed them in self defense, they told me they were your pursuers."

"Ah." He takes another sip. "You have my condolences on behalf of them. Not all humans are like the ones who assaulted you. Trust me."

I'll believe it when I see it. "One of them told me necromancy is wrong as it desecrates the dead. Is that true? Why are you a criminal? I won't judge you if you've done something wrong."

"Hmm." He ponders the questions. "Elves, humans, all living things are given the gift of life and it is only natural to make it as happy as possible for the little things that brought about your existence. Death is the ultimate way one can reciprocate. Necromancy seeks to tamper with this by wresting the dead from the earth and making them do craven deeds."

What better way to sum up what I've done so far? All I've done is take from others. Maybe it would've been if I had never had my second life.

He waves off the dust in the air. "That's the philosophy of the law, anyways. Necromancy is so ill-defined it's impossible to be charged with it. The real reason I'm being hunted is because I angered the wrong people in the family. If it's all the same to you I'd like not to talk about it."

"I'm not interested in you."

Shoenlein raises his eyebrows. "Well, I'm interested in you. You came from the south, yes, where those piles of mutilated corpses were? I studied the corpses there for a time."

"For your necromancy?"

"Not really. I was just curious."

"Then what do you do for your necromancy, exactly? Revive the dead?"

"Ah that is a grave misconception, excuse the pun. Most magi don't dabble in that type of necromancy." He gets up and ruffles through his shelves.

"There are two fields. One is reviving a dead being, the other is manipulating corpses. I practice the latter, while you are the only successful example of the former that I have seen The rogue zombies outside are somewhere in between." He finds a kit and brings it to the table

"How do you know I'm not "somewhere in between"? Maybe I'm just a really smart zombie."

"I don't," he concedes, "though I suppose that brings up another dilemma. You could be the same person or someone completely different. Even if your brain is alive, a break in consciousness could lead to a new being."

"I'm not sure I follow."

"You don't have to." He changes the subject. "I believe you said I could look at your body."

So now he's being blunt about it. "One condition, I want you to heal my face. Make it perfect."

The doctor comes near me and looks at the side of my head. He has on gloves and I feel the linen as he touches my injured areas. "I see you've fallen for the local fauna, a real nasty lot. Tch, I suppose I could implant skin in those areas. None of the corpses I have are elven, however. Are you alright with a human's?"

"As long as the color matches mine."

I take off my tunic and chainmail shirt. The wounds have scarred around the holes and you can see bits of my organs through them. The man keeps a straight face and analyzing to his hearts content, muttering to himself throughout. His hand touches my breast for a moment, then he pulls back. "I'm sorry!"

"For what?" Those four men weren't half as sensitive as this one is.

"Ah, never mind." He goes to a set of drawers and procures a set of metal tools. He pokes and prods me with them. I feel no pain as he does so.

He lifts a flap of skin under my stomach. "Do you know how to use magic?"

"Not that I know of. Why do you ask?"

"With these injuries, aside from being fatal, you shouldn't be able to move, unless magic is supporting your bones." He touches my lower rib and I feel a prick of pain.

"Magic can make zombies happen naturally and make them regenerate. I don't see how this is anything special."

"Ambient magic can't do overly complicated things. Move dead bodies and fix them, yes, but proper joint movements and strengthening requires someone to map it out."

"Which means someone made me, 100 percent."

"Yes, though I find it hard to imagine someone who goes through the trouble of stitching people together would overlook their results. You must've been a failure initially but after they dumped you, you became a success somehow. Perhaps the work of the jar?"

"Jar?"

"The reason why I am here, besides my research. As I'm sure you've noticed the undead here are far more intelligent and can regenerate. The jar is a relic from a bygone era of elven magic, back before humans and elves waged war with each other. It was called 'Gin in a Bottle', according to past records. I seek to obtain it."

"You want my help?"

"It would be very much appreciated."

"Make it worth my while."

"How about a brand-new body, in addition to the skin implants."

He could tell how annoying it is to move in this body. I want to not have to skip when I need to run. "Show me the corpse."

I follow him to one of the tombs and he opens it. Inside a young girl lays peacefully at rest, holding a bouquet of flowers. "This subject here should be suitable."

"How old is she?"

"I'd say she's in her twenties, for a human's lifespan. You look pretty young, about in your 50s, so it should be good match."

The woman looks dainty and there isn't any muscle in her bones. Might be a problem, but I don't care about strength much. "Looks good."

"Help me get the relic, and do a head transplant for you, in addition to fixing your head." He snickers. "Head transplant."

The woman is lying there peacefully. It's rather selfish of us to be bartering over her body like a piece of meat. She hasn't done anything wrong. All I've done is eat and kill be people. I should go outside- "It's not my fault."

"I'm sorry?"

He tries to come close to comfort me. I slap away his hands and turn my back on him. "Ugh." I rid myself of those thoughts. If this artifact controls the dead here, then I may find a clue to myself in it, and this body is getting difficult to move in. "Double cross me and you'll regret it."

"I wouldn't dream of it." He offers his hand to me. We shake on the deal.

"Let's start now," I say.

"I need to prepare my forces."

"How long is that going to take?"

"A few minutes. You're lucky I happened to be almost done with my preparations." He goes to his zombies and stars pulling out needles. When he removes a group of them, the body parts spasm as if jolted by electricity. "If you're wondering how I'm controlling them, I shall tell you. You see, the human body has something called the nervous system and by sti-