HUMERUS
By Mayavan Thevendra
Part 4 of 8
HELLO AND GOODBYE
The sun was up, the sky was blue, and the streets were buzzing; it was a beautiful morning in Lut Gholein. Unless you were a summoned skeleton named Barry, in which case it was the most horrific, and hideously conceived implement of torture known to man.
There was a soft cawing somewhere in the distance, and the sound of something sloshing against something else, and there was some muttering and gasping, though it sounded fuzzy and out of focus. And of course, there was an awful lot of pain. It was as if Barry could feel all of the two hundred and six bones that constituted his body, simply by virtue of how much each one of them was hurting. And nausea wasn't an apt enough word to describe the other symptom of Barry's hangover - saying that it felt as though something very old and very hairy had crawled into his stomach (which didn't exist of course), sicked up, had a couple of babies and then died, would have been more appropriate.
At first Barry thought he was hallucinating, since all he could see was a bright, glowing blue, with thick black lines criss-crossing in front of it; this was followed by the realisation that he was in fact lying on his back looking up at the sky, and tangled up in a fishing net. He was at the docks.
"Ohhh.fffeck me." Said a wooden crate in front of him.
"Morag? God.is that you?"
"Uuungh."
Morag's head rose slowly and unsteadily from the depths of the crate, and peered over at Barry.
"Buh- Barry? Christ, I feel shite." She whimpered.
"You and me both, love."
"Wha' happened? Last night?"
Last night. Barry thought back, as far as his pounding head would let him; he remembered a chubby little bloke handing him a pouch full of coins, and he remembered walking into the 'Munter's Mirror', and after that everything turned into a big, soggy mess. He had a vague recollection of getting into a fight with a bunch of very, very large men, and pressing his memory a little further, he found cloudy impressions of visiting a belly dancing bar, having his fortune told by an old woman with a moustache, and he was fairly certain that at some point he'd entered into an illegal camel race. "A fair bit, as I recall." He said.
The dock workers, who had previously been standing, staring, gawping and pointing at Barry and Morag, had been bullied back to work by their supervisor, who clearly wasn't impressed by the two of them. Barry took a long, slow look around, rubbed his head, and made an attempt at untangling himself from the fishing net. Hangover, diminished physical coordination, and the complete lack of any will to live made it a very unsuccessful attempt.
"S'a'right, Barry, love - lemme get that. I'll burn the side off for ye." Murmured Morag, who with some difficulty extended a shaky hand, jabbed her finger in the air, and ignited a passing seagull.
"Right.okay," said Barry, as he watched the flaming bird arc slowly downwards, and dive-bomb into the sea. "Don't worry about it, Morag - think I can manage."
Pulling his knife from his belt, Barry gave a sigh, and set to work cutting his way out.
*** The flesh golem had been thinking long and hard for the past four hours. The night before had long since turned into the morning after, yet the memories of drinking, brawling, dancing, goat frightening and midget tossing were still vivid and fresh. It had been a night of excess in every way, but also a night of lessons - for instance: never make fun of a gypsy woman's facial hair, always wash your hands after you've stuck them inside a live animal, and never, ever do the Kalimshite Tango with an eighty-year- old. And indeed, it had also been a night of answers, to some very pressing questions. But the night was past, and in the light of the new morning, it was clear that some important decisions would have to be made.
Slowly lowering itself from the roof of the Lut Gholein Senior Citizens Dancing School, the flesh golem set off in search of its companions.
***
There was something inherently soothing about sitting on the end of a pier, and the motion and sound of water, as it pushed and pulled against wooden supports; Barry's head had started to feel less like it was ablaze, and more like it was just being lightly toasted. And it was a good view - endless blue, above and below, with a bright off-white somewhere in the middle.
"I still can't figure out how we can get hung over, what with us being skeletons and all." Said Barry quizzically.
"Never mind the hangover, how the feck did we get pissed in the first place?" said Morag, as she massaged the sides of her skull.
"I haven't got the first clue, love. Maybe it was all just psychological, you know - mind over matter and all that."
Morag gave Barry a wry look.
"Well all right, all right," he said, "then let's just take the easy route and say it was magic."
"I dinna think so, Barry. Magic's supposed to be very specific - to think there's a magic spell out there, made just to allow the undead to get hammered.seems a little far-fetched, ye know what I mean?"
"Well, bloody hell, I don't know." Sighed Barry. "But we know it happened, so there must be some reason for it. To be dead honest with you, though, I really don't want to know how it happened, or why. I'm just glad it did."
"Yeah?" said Morag, turning towards him.
"Yeah. It was the best night I've ever had, Morag. Best night of my life."
"Mine too."
It all felt different today. In fact, it almost felt like they were alive. They could feel the sea air washing coolly over them, colours and scents seemed sharper, just that little bit more vivid than before; the monotony of un-death had given way for a night, and this morning of near-life was their reward. But it couldn't last. Barry hung his head, as he remembered what it was they were going to do today.
"So, I -uh, suppose this is it." He said.
"I suppose." Morag said quietly.
Both of them were silent for a short time, and then Barry said:
"Nice day for it, though"
"What, dyin'?"
"Um.oh, sorry. Yeah, that was a bit of a stupid thing to say, wasn't it?"
"Doesn't matter." Said Morag. "I suppose yeh right. Better than dyin' in a sandstorm - I hate sandstorms."
"Yeah, me too."
For a while longer, the two of them simply sat, and watched the rolling motions of ships, and listened to the soft, distant sounds that carried through into the port. Eventually, Morag turned her head once more.
"Barry, I -"
Suddenly, there came the psychic call of the Man in Black, like a dull spike piercing the calm.
'MINIONS GATHER'
Barry looked around at Morag, and held her gaze just for a moment.
"Come on, love," he said quietly, "let's go."
The easy pace of early morning broke into a stride as the day started proper; markets opened, and crowds slowly began to filter out into the sun. The psychic 'leash' of the Man in Black drew them deeper into the heart of Lut Gholein, past the bustling and shouting, and into a quiet, hidden away section of the city. Alleys criss-crossed, carrying faint echoes of voices and sounds across the stonework. At a lonely junction, with tenements looming high around them, Barry and Morag stopped, and waited.
"Where are they?" Said Barry, glancing up and down the alleyways.
"S'a'right, they'll be here in a minute."
They carried on waiting, and after a little while, the two of them heard the sounds of a slow, sweeping shuffle carrying towards them. The flesh golem, its huge, glistening bulk filling the entire width of the alley, was trudging slowly towards them, and in front of it walked a diminished and rather dismal looking Bludluxor.
"Bloody hell," said Barry as they approached, "what happened to you?"
Bludluxor shouldered his way past Barry, and sagged against a wall.
"What happened to me?" he sneered, "Well.let's see. First, I am dragged into a filthy slum by your good self, and led to believe that some powerful magical weapon is hidden there - then while searching for this weapon, which I am now certain was NEVER BLOODY THERE, I am accosted by a group of foul-smelling, pig-molesting barbarians, and thrown out into the street along with the three of you, though I'd expect you might not remember, since you were BLIND STINKING DRUNK! Oh, I can't tell you how much I enjoyed them yelling 'foul abomination of evil!' at me and taking it in turns to try and lop my head off - yes, yes of all the ways I can think of to spend an evening, I think that tops them all! And I assure you, that if you hadn't dragged me away, I would have FROZEN THE BASTARDS SOLID! After that, I must have taken a blow to the head, or have been overcome by some form of temporary insanity, because I can recall actually agreeing to sample some of that disgusting fluid the two of you were spilling into your mouths, and after that, well! What can I say - yes I quite enjoyed being gawked at by passers-by as I made a COMPLETE ARSE OF MYSELF, and when I PICKED A FIGHT WITH AN ENTIRE LUT GHOLEIN MERCENARY BRIGADE, THAT WAS THE HIGHLIGHT OF THE WHOLE EVENING! ESPECIALLY WHEN THEY BEAT ME UP, AND THREW ME INTO THE SEWER! THAT'S - WHAT HAPPENED - TO ME!"
The sound of Bludluxor's screaming ricocheted through the alleys around them for a second, before silence fell again. With an irritated mumble, he slid down the wall and sat cross-legged on the ground.
"When I awoke, this flesh-bound lummox was standing over me," he said, nodding up at the golem, "and hearing the call of our 'good master', we came here. Hmph. Still.despite the momentous cock-up that last night proved to be, I suppose matters could have been worse. At least I am alive, and uninjured."
Barry took a cautious step closer.
"Uninjured? Err, mate, I'm not exactly an expert, but as far as my understanding of the word goes, well.I don't really think you qualify."
"What in the hells are you blathering about? Spat Bludluxor.
"For God's sake, look at your arm!" Said Morag.
He did, and saw quite quickly what the others had seen, but he himself had somehow managed to overlook. His right hand, along with a good eight inches of the forearm, had been chopped clean off.
"My God!" he croaked, and clutched at the stump with his other hand. But then, seeing his hand, he slowly held it up, and turned it this way and that as though seeing it for the first time. And looking past his hand, Bludluxor saw his feet, his legs, and his pelvis. He made a sort of dry gasping noise, before clambering to his feet and staggering forward.
"My - my flesh.where's - where's my flesh?"
"Err, Morag?" Said Barry as the two of them backed away.
"You wretched, thieving bastards, what have you done with my flesh!" Bludluxor shrieked.
"Ye.dinnae have any," said Morag softly, "You're one've us - ye've always been one've us."
"I've.I'm - I'm -" he stuttered.
"A skeleton." Said Morag.
Bludluxor stepped back a couple of paces and gave a faint, slightly hysterical chuckle.
"A skeleton." He said, and sank back down onto the floor. He shook his head a few times, and then looked up, his head quivering.
"How could I not have known?"
"Ye did know. At least, ye knew at first, when ye got here." Said Morag. "I remember The Man summoned ye round about the same time as Barry, and back then, ye knew what ye were, and ye even remembered a little about what ye life was like when ye were one've the livin', which was more than me or Barry ever managed. Och, ye were such a nice lad."
"Bloody right you were," said Barry, cutting in, "you were the nicest bloke a fella could hope to meet - always ready for a laugh."
"And so polite." said Morag.
"And you always looked out for me and Morag when the fighting got rough; you'd stick your neck out for us without a thought."
"Aye, and we'd have done the same. We were the three amigos, right?"
"Yeah, bloody right!" said Barry. "Us against the bleedin' world, that's how it was!"
Bludluxor sat still, staring open-mouthed at them.
"And.and what happened?" he said.
"Well, about a year ago," said Morag, "the Man took a quest to get rid of this mad bugger who was using his magic to turn people inta beasts - real powerful he was."
"S'right," said Barry, nodding his head, "He nearly got the better of us, threw all sorts of twisted monsters at us, but we pushed on and we rushed that miserable git -"
"Oh we did, did we?" said Morag slyly.
"Err, well, that is, you three and the Man rushed him - I was, err, you know, lending moral support, aheh. Anyway, long story short, the evil git got done in, but not before he blasted you with a bolt of something nasty."
"Aye. Knocked ye out fer days, it did."
"And when you woke up."
"Ye were 'Bludluxor, the mighty guff-bucket!" Said Morag, throwing her arms in the air. "And that's how ye've been since. We tried to talk ye out of it, for months we tried, but ye'd have none've it - always goin' on about how ye were going to conquer the world or turn it inta a frozen wasteland, or somethin'. Eventually, we just let ye get on with it, hopin ye'd come to your senses sooner or later."
"So.so my name isn't.Bludluxor?"
"No laddie, it's not."
"Then.what is it?"
"We told you," said Barry. ".It's Kevin."
Suddenly, something hard pressed the air, like water between panes of glass, and the familiar words were spoken through into their minds.
'MINIONS ASSEMBLE'
The Man in Black had arrived.
By Mayavan Thevendra
Part 4 of 8
HELLO AND GOODBYE
The sun was up, the sky was blue, and the streets were buzzing; it was a beautiful morning in Lut Gholein. Unless you were a summoned skeleton named Barry, in which case it was the most horrific, and hideously conceived implement of torture known to man.
There was a soft cawing somewhere in the distance, and the sound of something sloshing against something else, and there was some muttering and gasping, though it sounded fuzzy and out of focus. And of course, there was an awful lot of pain. It was as if Barry could feel all of the two hundred and six bones that constituted his body, simply by virtue of how much each one of them was hurting. And nausea wasn't an apt enough word to describe the other symptom of Barry's hangover - saying that it felt as though something very old and very hairy had crawled into his stomach (which didn't exist of course), sicked up, had a couple of babies and then died, would have been more appropriate.
At first Barry thought he was hallucinating, since all he could see was a bright, glowing blue, with thick black lines criss-crossing in front of it; this was followed by the realisation that he was in fact lying on his back looking up at the sky, and tangled up in a fishing net. He was at the docks.
"Ohhh.fffeck me." Said a wooden crate in front of him.
"Morag? God.is that you?"
"Uuungh."
Morag's head rose slowly and unsteadily from the depths of the crate, and peered over at Barry.
"Buh- Barry? Christ, I feel shite." She whimpered.
"You and me both, love."
"Wha' happened? Last night?"
Last night. Barry thought back, as far as his pounding head would let him; he remembered a chubby little bloke handing him a pouch full of coins, and he remembered walking into the 'Munter's Mirror', and after that everything turned into a big, soggy mess. He had a vague recollection of getting into a fight with a bunch of very, very large men, and pressing his memory a little further, he found cloudy impressions of visiting a belly dancing bar, having his fortune told by an old woman with a moustache, and he was fairly certain that at some point he'd entered into an illegal camel race. "A fair bit, as I recall." He said.
The dock workers, who had previously been standing, staring, gawping and pointing at Barry and Morag, had been bullied back to work by their supervisor, who clearly wasn't impressed by the two of them. Barry took a long, slow look around, rubbed his head, and made an attempt at untangling himself from the fishing net. Hangover, diminished physical coordination, and the complete lack of any will to live made it a very unsuccessful attempt.
"S'a'right, Barry, love - lemme get that. I'll burn the side off for ye." Murmured Morag, who with some difficulty extended a shaky hand, jabbed her finger in the air, and ignited a passing seagull.
"Right.okay," said Barry, as he watched the flaming bird arc slowly downwards, and dive-bomb into the sea. "Don't worry about it, Morag - think I can manage."
Pulling his knife from his belt, Barry gave a sigh, and set to work cutting his way out.
*** The flesh golem had been thinking long and hard for the past four hours. The night before had long since turned into the morning after, yet the memories of drinking, brawling, dancing, goat frightening and midget tossing were still vivid and fresh. It had been a night of excess in every way, but also a night of lessons - for instance: never make fun of a gypsy woman's facial hair, always wash your hands after you've stuck them inside a live animal, and never, ever do the Kalimshite Tango with an eighty-year- old. And indeed, it had also been a night of answers, to some very pressing questions. But the night was past, and in the light of the new morning, it was clear that some important decisions would have to be made.
Slowly lowering itself from the roof of the Lut Gholein Senior Citizens Dancing School, the flesh golem set off in search of its companions.
***
There was something inherently soothing about sitting on the end of a pier, and the motion and sound of water, as it pushed and pulled against wooden supports; Barry's head had started to feel less like it was ablaze, and more like it was just being lightly toasted. And it was a good view - endless blue, above and below, with a bright off-white somewhere in the middle.
"I still can't figure out how we can get hung over, what with us being skeletons and all." Said Barry quizzically.
"Never mind the hangover, how the feck did we get pissed in the first place?" said Morag, as she massaged the sides of her skull.
"I haven't got the first clue, love. Maybe it was all just psychological, you know - mind over matter and all that."
Morag gave Barry a wry look.
"Well all right, all right," he said, "then let's just take the easy route and say it was magic."
"I dinna think so, Barry. Magic's supposed to be very specific - to think there's a magic spell out there, made just to allow the undead to get hammered.seems a little far-fetched, ye know what I mean?"
"Well, bloody hell, I don't know." Sighed Barry. "But we know it happened, so there must be some reason for it. To be dead honest with you, though, I really don't want to know how it happened, or why. I'm just glad it did."
"Yeah?" said Morag, turning towards him.
"Yeah. It was the best night I've ever had, Morag. Best night of my life."
"Mine too."
It all felt different today. In fact, it almost felt like they were alive. They could feel the sea air washing coolly over them, colours and scents seemed sharper, just that little bit more vivid than before; the monotony of un-death had given way for a night, and this morning of near-life was their reward. But it couldn't last. Barry hung his head, as he remembered what it was they were going to do today.
"So, I -uh, suppose this is it." He said.
"I suppose." Morag said quietly.
Both of them were silent for a short time, and then Barry said:
"Nice day for it, though"
"What, dyin'?"
"Um.oh, sorry. Yeah, that was a bit of a stupid thing to say, wasn't it?"
"Doesn't matter." Said Morag. "I suppose yeh right. Better than dyin' in a sandstorm - I hate sandstorms."
"Yeah, me too."
For a while longer, the two of them simply sat, and watched the rolling motions of ships, and listened to the soft, distant sounds that carried through into the port. Eventually, Morag turned her head once more.
"Barry, I -"
Suddenly, there came the psychic call of the Man in Black, like a dull spike piercing the calm.
'MINIONS GATHER'
Barry looked around at Morag, and held her gaze just for a moment.
"Come on, love," he said quietly, "let's go."
The easy pace of early morning broke into a stride as the day started proper; markets opened, and crowds slowly began to filter out into the sun. The psychic 'leash' of the Man in Black drew them deeper into the heart of Lut Gholein, past the bustling and shouting, and into a quiet, hidden away section of the city. Alleys criss-crossed, carrying faint echoes of voices and sounds across the stonework. At a lonely junction, with tenements looming high around them, Barry and Morag stopped, and waited.
"Where are they?" Said Barry, glancing up and down the alleyways.
"S'a'right, they'll be here in a minute."
They carried on waiting, and after a little while, the two of them heard the sounds of a slow, sweeping shuffle carrying towards them. The flesh golem, its huge, glistening bulk filling the entire width of the alley, was trudging slowly towards them, and in front of it walked a diminished and rather dismal looking Bludluxor.
"Bloody hell," said Barry as they approached, "what happened to you?"
Bludluxor shouldered his way past Barry, and sagged against a wall.
"What happened to me?" he sneered, "Well.let's see. First, I am dragged into a filthy slum by your good self, and led to believe that some powerful magical weapon is hidden there - then while searching for this weapon, which I am now certain was NEVER BLOODY THERE, I am accosted by a group of foul-smelling, pig-molesting barbarians, and thrown out into the street along with the three of you, though I'd expect you might not remember, since you were BLIND STINKING DRUNK! Oh, I can't tell you how much I enjoyed them yelling 'foul abomination of evil!' at me and taking it in turns to try and lop my head off - yes, yes of all the ways I can think of to spend an evening, I think that tops them all! And I assure you, that if you hadn't dragged me away, I would have FROZEN THE BASTARDS SOLID! After that, I must have taken a blow to the head, or have been overcome by some form of temporary insanity, because I can recall actually agreeing to sample some of that disgusting fluid the two of you were spilling into your mouths, and after that, well! What can I say - yes I quite enjoyed being gawked at by passers-by as I made a COMPLETE ARSE OF MYSELF, and when I PICKED A FIGHT WITH AN ENTIRE LUT GHOLEIN MERCENARY BRIGADE, THAT WAS THE HIGHLIGHT OF THE WHOLE EVENING! ESPECIALLY WHEN THEY BEAT ME UP, AND THREW ME INTO THE SEWER! THAT'S - WHAT HAPPENED - TO ME!"
The sound of Bludluxor's screaming ricocheted through the alleys around them for a second, before silence fell again. With an irritated mumble, he slid down the wall and sat cross-legged on the ground.
"When I awoke, this flesh-bound lummox was standing over me," he said, nodding up at the golem, "and hearing the call of our 'good master', we came here. Hmph. Still.despite the momentous cock-up that last night proved to be, I suppose matters could have been worse. At least I am alive, and uninjured."
Barry took a cautious step closer.
"Uninjured? Err, mate, I'm not exactly an expert, but as far as my understanding of the word goes, well.I don't really think you qualify."
"What in the hells are you blathering about? Spat Bludluxor.
"For God's sake, look at your arm!" Said Morag.
He did, and saw quite quickly what the others had seen, but he himself had somehow managed to overlook. His right hand, along with a good eight inches of the forearm, had been chopped clean off.
"My God!" he croaked, and clutched at the stump with his other hand. But then, seeing his hand, he slowly held it up, and turned it this way and that as though seeing it for the first time. And looking past his hand, Bludluxor saw his feet, his legs, and his pelvis. He made a sort of dry gasping noise, before clambering to his feet and staggering forward.
"My - my flesh.where's - where's my flesh?"
"Err, Morag?" Said Barry as the two of them backed away.
"You wretched, thieving bastards, what have you done with my flesh!" Bludluxor shrieked.
"Ye.dinnae have any," said Morag softly, "You're one've us - ye've always been one've us."
"I've.I'm - I'm -" he stuttered.
"A skeleton." Said Morag.
Bludluxor stepped back a couple of paces and gave a faint, slightly hysterical chuckle.
"A skeleton." He said, and sank back down onto the floor. He shook his head a few times, and then looked up, his head quivering.
"How could I not have known?"
"Ye did know. At least, ye knew at first, when ye got here." Said Morag. "I remember The Man summoned ye round about the same time as Barry, and back then, ye knew what ye were, and ye even remembered a little about what ye life was like when ye were one've the livin', which was more than me or Barry ever managed. Och, ye were such a nice lad."
"Bloody right you were," said Barry, cutting in, "you were the nicest bloke a fella could hope to meet - always ready for a laugh."
"And so polite." said Morag.
"And you always looked out for me and Morag when the fighting got rough; you'd stick your neck out for us without a thought."
"Aye, and we'd have done the same. We were the three amigos, right?"
"Yeah, bloody right!" said Barry. "Us against the bleedin' world, that's how it was!"
Bludluxor sat still, staring open-mouthed at them.
"And.and what happened?" he said.
"Well, about a year ago," said Morag, "the Man took a quest to get rid of this mad bugger who was using his magic to turn people inta beasts - real powerful he was."
"S'right," said Barry, nodding his head, "He nearly got the better of us, threw all sorts of twisted monsters at us, but we pushed on and we rushed that miserable git -"
"Oh we did, did we?" said Morag slyly.
"Err, well, that is, you three and the Man rushed him - I was, err, you know, lending moral support, aheh. Anyway, long story short, the evil git got done in, but not before he blasted you with a bolt of something nasty."
"Aye. Knocked ye out fer days, it did."
"And when you woke up."
"Ye were 'Bludluxor, the mighty guff-bucket!" Said Morag, throwing her arms in the air. "And that's how ye've been since. We tried to talk ye out of it, for months we tried, but ye'd have none've it - always goin' on about how ye were going to conquer the world or turn it inta a frozen wasteland, or somethin'. Eventually, we just let ye get on with it, hopin ye'd come to your senses sooner or later."
"So.so my name isn't.Bludluxor?"
"No laddie, it's not."
"Then.what is it?"
"We told you," said Barry. ".It's Kevin."
Suddenly, something hard pressed the air, like water between panes of glass, and the familiar words were spoken through into their minds.
'MINIONS ASSEMBLE'
The Man in Black had arrived.