Necromaster
Chapter 4- Zombies
Of course, Marco knew who to blame for all of it.
Turning over to the murals, the demonic stone slab was already crumbling to dust next to the frogman before it. There was only one mural left and after grabbing the runic breastplate, Marco was ready for it. As for the necromaster himself... he was shaking uncontrollably on his side atop the final mural, his emerald limbs flailing about not unlike the demon priest Marco had first impaled with the stolen trident. Not a moment later the necromaster, self-titled monarch of all things not-alive, actually tumbled off the center mural slab and fell elbow first onto a nearby tombstone before finally landing face first into the dirt. Strangely enough, the golden sword never left his hand.
Marco tilted his head at this, confused but still cautious as he raised his sword at the ready.
"Y-yesss..." The necromaster wheezed as he lay spread on the ground, his shaking not quite gone away. The glowing green silhouette of a man began laughing. This wasn't the same haughty, self-satisfied laugh from before. This one sounded like breaking glass. It was the nursery rhyme of nightmare's. The kind of laugh that belonged to a mind so twisted, its only purpose was to corrupt and destroy. The necromaster's head suddenly jerked at Marco. "You'll do."
Marco glowered at that, forcing himself to ignore his instincts to toss another stone at him. Weakened or not, it would do no good now.
Using the golden dagger turned sword like a cane, the necromaster forced himself to his feet, shaking all the way... and once again he changed. The blackened and charred suit finished its decay and fell of off its wearer like clumps of charcoal, showing the man to truly be a silhouette of rotted green. But that wasn't all. His bones appeared. His skeleton. It became visible. Just hovering there inside his body. Patches of black bones inside of emerald flesh, looking no different than than pictures from an X-ray. Marco didn't know how, but he knew that the necromaster was smiling at him as he stood there stiff as stone. The two enemies stood there for a moment, staring at each other before suddenly the necromaster raised his sword and pointed it at Marco.
"May the best man win." The necromaster didn't wait for Marco's reply and without taking his gaze off the dragoncycle rider, thrusted the golden sword behind him with a backhanded strike and into the final mural. Looking behind the necromaster, Marco could see that the last slab of the dead was that of a normal man. No clothes. No weapons. But the symbol behind him was that of a butterfly, with a crescent moon in its wings as the mural glowed purple. "And to the victor goes the spoils!"
As the mural glowed the same decayed emerald, Marco looked around the graveyard, searching for anything else that might contain an unforeseen undead champion like the mausoleums or statues, but all he could see were tombstones.
"Oh crap."
Just like that, as if on cue, a decayed hand shot up out of the ground to Marco's left and tried to grab his leg. The dragon slayer slashed it away before it had the chance. Then another to his right. Another, another, and another. Soon enough, the entire graveyard was moving. The bodies of the dead began pulling themselves out of the dirt. These folks, were folks. Human looking beings. Though with half rotted flesh covered in torn and rusted chainmail All carrying battered and blunted short swords, broken spears, even the occasional dented mace.
Just like the demonic priests and the FGS before them, Marco had to act fast or he'd die. Only now instead of being blasted to bits or impaled he'd be torn to pieces one handful at a time... if not mouthful. Looking around, Marco tried to find someplace where he wouldn't be surrounded by zombies, who's numbers grew by the second. He found but one, and it wasn't anywhere near the exit.
The dragon slayer knew what he had to do.
Putting his sword away, Marco held the bronze breastplate in front of him and dashed forward. The dragoncycle rider crashed into a volley of undead as they finished freeing themselves from their earthly tombs. It was easier than Marco had thought, the runes on the battered bronze burned into the undead hoard as he barreled through. Repelling them like an electric fence. Peaking to his side, Marco could see that not only did his charge knock over the zombies but actually sent them ablaze. Though only where the runes met their rotted flesh and only with small orange embers. Some snuffed out and left no lasting damage. Others were engulfed and fell to piece soon after. Most zombies simply rose back to their feet and stumbled on, aflame or not.
Looking back even further, Marco could see that the necromaster had pulled his sword out of the mural and was steadily walking toward him at a brisk pace.
Marco grinned at that as he turned his gaze back to the front and double timed it to his destination, quickly battering through a small grouping of zombies before making it to a set of stairs. After smashing the skull of a knocked over the zombie with his boot, Marco sprinted to the top like his life depended on it... which it did. Finally making it there Marco found the door surprisingly locked, while the rusted iron doors might have been flimsy they refused to budge and his improvised bronze battering ram wouldn't get through it. Snarling at the door, Marco pulled out his silver-steel sword, jabbed it between the two slabs of iron and slashed it right down the middle of the doors. Hearing the rattling of chains behind the doors he hadn't heard before, Marco kicked in the slabs of metal and ran inside just as the undead legion had made it halfway up the stairs.
Marco made into the temple, but he was far from safe.
After slamming the doors shut, Marco grabbed the chain he'd cut to get in and tied the ends together best he could. Not two seconds later, the doors began rattling. It sounded like an army was pounding on the rusted metal slabs. Death had come for the dragon slayer, and they were mere feet away.
The dragoncycle rider smiled.
Leaving the ancient chain to hold the rusted metal doors and his life, Marco turned around and found exactly what he was expecting. The temple was even more decrepit than how it looked from the outside. The interior was little more than a large room. Remnants of pews laid around in parts, looking like they'd gone ten rounds with termites and lost. The walls were little more than battered brick that looked like it wouldn't take too much to knock over. The pillars were mostly knocked down, some even collapsed into the broken pews. All but the one at the center which was so chipped away it actually surprised Marco that it was still standing. As for the roof, it was actually easier to find parts that didn't have holes punched into it.
Hearing the battering on the doors, Marco put his sword away as he grabbed hold of the largest pew piece close by but the second he grabbed it the handful snapped off and all but crumbled to dust in his hand.
"Great." Marco sighed, eyeing the doors as it clanged against their hinges. Dust actually actually puffing out of the cracks in the brick wall holding them.
"What is it you mortals call it?" Marco's head snapped toward the voice coming from the back of the room and sitting on a stone coffin like tomb was a certain familiar face to the dragoncycle rider. The surprise guest had snow white skin, long bright hair held back in a pony tail that all but reached the floor and covered her right eye, a bright orange bell shaped dress that was pattered like a flame that did the same, spiked horns that rose from the sides of her head, and of course a small bright ember hovered above her head between the horns. The surprised guest was sitting casually on the tomb as it lay on an alter, leaning back with one leg slung over the other which showed more than a good bit of skin. A sly smile on her face as she eyed Marco up and down. "'Quite a pickle'. Weird phrase."
"H-poo, come to see the show?" Marco asked, putting a little extra base in his voice as he grew a sly smile of his own.
"Hekapoo. Hek. A. Poo- Gah. You know it sounds like something involving a bathroom when you say that right?" Heckapoo narrowed her one visible eye at him as she folded her arms in a pout. It didn't last. Heckapoo, the queen of the crossroads, maid of mischief, and patron saint of fun times gone bad was visibly fighting back a smile and lost. "And yes, not sorry. Its rare to see these kinds of fights. Wouldn't miss it for the world."
"What kind of fights? Life verses death. Good verses evil. The even a mother couldn't love that face against... well, you know." Marco joked, gesturing to his own face with a shrug as he walked toward the alter. As he did, Marco could see that the stone coffin that was sitting on top of it was actually a carved tomb. It was immaculately sculpted and dotted with precious stones. It was the one thing in the temple, no, the area that hadn't rotted to ruins. Marco raised an eyebrow at that.
"Actually..." Heckapoo hummed, raising an eyebrow back at Marco as she teasingly flicked her exposed leg up and down. "More, 'Sweaty buff guys with clothes that barely stay on' fights."
"Are you telling me I should start doing shifts at Multiverse Chippendale's? I already got a name, Magic Marco." The dragoncycle rider teased, doing a little pose. One hand on his jacket, the other on his iron belt buckle. Muscles flexing galore. The dragon slayer didn't fail to notice Heckapoo's eye twitch before her smile grew a bit wider. "I could use some extra cash."
"I'll see if they have an opening." Heckapoo teased, her gaze never reaching his face. Marco was guessing she wasn't looking at his belt buckle. The dragoncycle rider tried not to snort as the banging on the old rusted doors grew louder and louder. "You're looking for part time, right? Maybe, Fridays?"
Suddenly the banging stopped. The shuffling, shambling, and faint moaning outside the doors of the temple vanished. In its place was the familiar vaguely aristocratic tone of the necromaster. Though neither Marco nor Heckapoo could tell what he was saying. His voice was too muffled by the thick iron.
"Top three guesses for villain on verge of victory speech, go." Marco joked, pointing at Heckapoo.
"Triple alliteration, with a 'V'. Dang." Heckapoo snorted a laugh. "Okay, ruling the universe."
"Pretty standard." Marco tilted his head at her. "Lets give the D-mover lister some credit here. I'm thinking, dead stuff is cool."
"Ummm, Uh." Heckapoo snapped her fingers, her eye flailing about the temple as if visibly searching for an answer. "Come one, I hate being put on the spot. How about, Something, something darkside?"
"Awwwe, you did watch those movies I gave ya." Marco teased with the cutsiest voice he could muster. Before either could say another word, the mumbling stopped. Turning back around, both could see a faint fade of jade creaking through the cracks in and around the metal doors. "Oh great. He's doing the villain power up thing again. We got about twenty seconds."
"Marco, you're a super amazing badass with a great big swingng sword. Whatever." Heckapoo asked, straightening herself up as she folded her arms at him. "But are you sure you're okay?"
"Oh, I'm just building suspense for..." Marco let it lay there as walked right up the queen of the crossroads and gently grabbed her beautiful round face with both hands, kneeling down to kiss her just as she was about to say something. After a moment or two, just long enough for a confident tease, Marco broke the kiss. He gave the confused maid of mischief a look before turning his gaze to the stone tomb she was sitting on. Heckapoo fallowed where he was looking and it was like she had a light-bulb was above her head instead of an ember. "My big finish."
Marco blew out the flame above Heckapoo's head, her body vanished into a puff of smoke. Not a moment later the doors were blasted off their hinges by an emerald wave that lit up the entire temple. Strangely enough the doors were still held together by the chain. Turning back around the dragon slayer saw the skeletal necromaster strut in with a few dozen zombies not two steps behind him.
"Behold, I shall be a blight upon the land. Everything I touch shall wither and die!" The necromaster bellowed, his arms reaching out with his head tilted so far back it looked like he was about to fall over. Marco tried not to let show how unimpressed he was at that.
"When it comes to entrance speeches, I give that a six outta ten. Mostly for how short it was."
"Defiant to the end. Some may find it charming. Personally I find it rather irritating." The necromaster straightened his stance. Though he couldn't show it, Marco knew he was being glared at. "Though there is hope. You can escape this fate."
"So..." Marco tilted his head at the necromaster. "You offer to-go baskets, take out bins, or just the standard swag bag?"
"All those that have challenged me, have been crushed." The necromaster announced, ignoring Marco. "Their remains join my army. This one singular graveyard is but one outpost in my empire I have spent centuries building. But you have proven yourself. I give you this one offer."
"A smart, living attack dog is better than dead cannon fodder." Marco eyed the necromaster blandly. "Tired of your generals smelling like rotting meat?"
"Accurate. But no." The necromaster gave a mocking laugh before he gestured at himself. "This body. My current vessel has run its course."
"I feel for ya man, I really do. But," Marco gave a mocking shrug. "You can only screw around with the dead so much before you catch something."
"Your entire incursion into my territory has been a test. Can you not see that!" The necromaster snarled, all but seething at Marco. "One way or another, this battle was your final proving ground. If you think we are the only ones to witness this conflict, you are wrong. Many eyes are lurk the shadows. All on us."
"Well, dang." The dragon slayer gave a mocking smile. "I feel like a sports car fresh outta the factory."
"Beings such as you and I are not mass produced, boy." The necromaster put extra emphasis on the last word there. "Last chance. Accept my offer, and a part of you will live on. You shall be the face of greatness as I make my return. The conquests will be all the sweeter with your hands at the helm."
Marco gave no answer, at least not with words as he reached down and pulled out a small knife from his cast iron belt buckle and threw it at the necromaster, its arc was straight and true as it landed home. Its blade sinking fully into the necromaster's chest between his ribs, right where the heart would be. But, of course. It wasn't that easy. The necromaster just stood there, not even flinching at the knife in his heart.
"Such a shame when someone with your potential dies so young." The necromaster sighed, real regret in his voice as he pulled the knife from his chest without a care before he tossed it to the side. "Very well, fool. You refused to be a king. So you shall be devoured by one."
The necromaster raised the golden sword at Marco, the tip aimed right at the dragoncycle rider's own heart. Unlike before, there was no gravitas. No splendor. No dramatic gathering of power. Because this enemy of life wasn't raising the dead, but releasing it. The dragon slayer knew this because the skeletal shades of the necromasters teeth shined through his emerald flesh. There was no hiding that the necromaster was mumbling something under his breath and while the sword was pointed at Marco, it was also pointed at the overtly enchanted tomb sitting behind him.
Marco stood perfectly still, trying not to give the game away as while he didn't hear anything, the dragoncycle rider felt the air pressure change behind him… not to mention the stench that just appeared out of nowhere. As if some long isolated pocket of air was just reintroduced. It was the tomb. Whatever magical lock that kept it shut was broken. Whatever was inside it had just slided the stone plate that covered it, something that would weigh hundreds of pounds easy, without making a sound. Marco knew this new zombie was both smart and strong.
Peaking down at the battered bronze plate he still carried under his arm, Marco could see through the reflection that this latest undead was another skeleton. One with a crown on its head no less and as it pulled more of itself free, showed its body covered by a fine black satin robe meant for royalty. It was silently reaching for Marco.
The dragoncycle rider smiled at this, the necromaster visibly flinched back as he did before Marco pulled out his sword and in one quick graceful motion, shifted around, sliced off the head of the zombie king at its neck, and returned to where he was before. Even giving the necromaster the same stare. The newly freed skull flew up into the air and caught by its decapitator when it arched over his shoulder. After seeing the skeletal body go limp on the tomb's edge, Marco put his sword away again as he looked down at his latest prize. The skull was laying upside down in his palm, the jeweled crown still firmly attached to the bleached bone, though the jaw was still moving. Even having its own voice, though it was no louder than a whisper and could mutter only empty threats. Strangely enough, the latter wasn't at the one who decapitated it, but the necromaster.
There was a silent moment in the temple after that. The zombies themselves hadn't moved, at all. Which was no surprise. Though the necromaster's attention was firmly on the skull sitting in Marco's hand. The so called master of all things not alive didn't look so much surprised or scared, but terrified, and not at Marco… But at the skull.
"There are plenty of reasons why I didn't join you, but I'm pretty sure a guy like you would only understand one." Marco said, tossing the skull in the air and catching it with his other hand without a care in the world. Like it was some ball the dragoncycle rider hadn't played with since childhood. The necromaster's whole body shifted with its arc like a hungry dog after a discarded dinner bone. "You're a loser."
"What?" The necromaster's gaze cracked like a whip to Marco, completely ignoring the skull. "What did you just say, boy?"
"You. Are. A. Loser." Marco said, tossing the skull to his other hand again with the same degree of casualness. The necromaster visibly struggled with where to point his attention. Marco was actually more surprised that the guy could actually keep his mouth shut for so long. "You'll always lose. Its who you are. No amount of power or minions will change that. Do you know why…"
Marco tossed the skull again, this time at the necromaster. The glorified bedazzled bone landing center square in his chest, right where the knife had struck before. The necromaster was visibly surprised at the human's brazen act of defiance and fumbled to catch the skull. Forced to let go of the golden sword as he all but dropped the skull on the ground before slapping both his palms to the face and back of it mere inches from the stone floor. The necromaster was actually shaking from pure relief as he held the skull in his hands, right up until the skull bit down on his green fingers.
Apparently the necromaster did feel pain or at least surprise as he audibly yelped and pulled his hand free from the skull's jaw. After regaining his bearings, the necromaster panted as he gathered his power. Seething in rage at Marco like a rabid animal before the necromaster snarled a curse and an emerald ball of infernal fire blasted from his hand.
Of course Marco was ready for this and already had the bronze breastplate held up waiting for this latest batch of necro-tantrum. The green ball of hate and death bounced off the runic sheet of metal and back at its caster, blasting him several feet back and into his zombie backup squad. Knocking both himself and several of them over. The closest of which were actually set on fire and crumbled to ash before anyone could blink. The necromaster himself was visibly hurt, twitching in pain on the ground. The arm he cast the spell with was gone, blown off at the elbow not unlike the final demonic priest. The skull was fine, protected under his remaining arm.
"You never learn."
Marco announced, his voice full of triumph as he eyed his final target and with all his might, threw the bronze breastplate like a disk at the final surviving column of the temple. Turning around, Marco yanked out the body of the skeleton king and tossed it to the side like the bag of bones it was before hopping in just as the breastplate made contact.
It didn't take much to knock away the last of what held the column together. Even the parts that weren't hit started falling away until the final survivor joined its brothers in death, and smashing rotten wood that were once pews. The ceiling of the temple wasn't far behind. Robbed of the last thing that gave it stability and holding it up, the hole riddled material stared falling and burying everything.
Marco himself had no time to dwell on it. After stuffing himself into a stone box that was clearly meant for someone that was half his size, Marco used all his strength in all four of his limbs to pull the carved stone cover back over the tomb. The last thing he saw was the necromaster crying out in hatred and despair as tons of rock fell over him. Burying the necromaster and whatever zombies were inside the temple. Trusting the enchantments of the tomb to protect him, Marco closed his eyes in the dark stone box as he felt and heard rock after rock pound against the one thing keeping him alive.
Then, just as fast as it began, the pounding stopped. It was over. Marco was alive… he thought. Feeling how uncomfortable he was cramped in the stone box he decided he was. Pushing against the lid, Marco tried to get out but found that he couldn't. Either the magical lock that kept the skeleton king imprisoned was activated again, or the tons of rock he brought down on himself was doing the trick. Of course the dragoncycle rider planned for this and reached for his sword… and discovered his body was completely immobilized. The now necro-slayer was squished.
"Oh boy."
