The Master
By the time the sun broke the horizon, the master was already moving. The dog, ever the faithful companion and truly man's best friend, kept pace. The pair briskly walked through grassy fields overgrown with neglect, small towns long abandoned and surreal forests, devoid of any molestation. They stopped to rest at a small stream that flowed lazily through a wooded ravine. The master dumped out a can of tuna looted from a general store, praying the dog would eat it. The master settled for drinking a can of condensed soup. Perhaps from their sojourn, the dog offered no complaints.
After a short rest, the two rose to their feet and continued their journey. The master smirked, impressed that they had gained so much fitness in the past year. Before this had all began, they struggled with more than two flights of stairs. A sedentary lifestyle. Now, they moved miles at a time with barely a second thought. The dog must have agreed, as it ran ahead, tail wagging, to sniff out a squirrel. As the master ran past the dog, it abandoned the quest and returned to them.
Miles passed before they realized it. As the sun descended in the sky, the master entered the town of Weymouth. The outskirts of the city were quiet enough, but still they moved with caution. The dog kept close, alert to any possible dangers. As they moved into the town proper, the master dug into the large backpack and removed a flashlight, preparing to signal any rescuers. They took stock of their surroundings. The community had been any generic, non-descript fishing town: A wharf flanked by a boardwalk led to the marina. To call the area a port was generous. The main street ran along the coast, flanked on one side by a row of old shops, restaurants and bars. On the other side, the boardwalk and shore. The sun was now fully descended behind the horizon, with only the faint afterglow of dusk remaining.
"Okay, boy," the master whispered. The dog cocked its head. "Go ahead," they urged, pointing to the end of the street. "Tell me if it's clear." The dog gave a muffled yip and ran down the street. The master watched as the dog approached the intersection to the main street. It stopped in the middle of the road and glanced around with its nose before shuffling off in search of something. The master approached a bus stop, long abandoned, and took a seat on the dirty bench. Trusting the dog, they waited.
It wasn't unusual for the dog to take upwards of twenty minutes to do a little recon, but after thirty minutes of waiting with no sign of the dog – no barking, no noises, no visual – the master began to worry. Standing from the bus stop, the master clutched the practice sword tightly and began to slowly walk down the street. Their breath seemed to stop as they listened intently for any sign. There was nothing. It's okay, they thought. He's just eating something or chasing a squirrel.
At the intersection, the master clung against the side of the building, pressing themselves against the bricks. They peeked their head around the corner slowly. The street was empty, save for a few cars parked on the side of the road and trash littering the streets and sidewalks. There was no sign of anyone, living or dead, and no sign of the dog. They crept around the corner and tiptoed down the sidewalk. The entrance to the port was in sight. A large fence surrounded it with a metal gate closed across the street. Closing their eyes, the master focused on listening and found a faint, almost undetectable hum as if standing under a streetlight. Power.
As their eyes snapped open, a terrible dilemma presented itself. The dog had been a loyal, faithful companion for nearly a year. It had saved the master from countless dangerous situations and attacks. It had never abandoned them. It had never been cruel or unkind – never even during an extended spell without food or shelter. It was their duty to find the animal and reunite with it for the journey to safety. They'd come so far together.
On the other hand, the broadcast had been truthful: There was no mistaking the hum of electricity and where there was electricity, there was bound to be someone still alive. Though Dragonstone Isle was too far offshore to see, the master had no doubt that they would be able to escape there and watch the sunrise from safety in the company of others for the first time in so long. They might even be able to help, somehow. Delaying their escape to search for the dog might compromise them. If the dog had been attacked and they chose to investigate, they could also be attacked, and it would be an absolute travesty to make it this far only to fail due to a soft heart. Dammit.
As they walked down the street past the gate, the master kept their eyes focused on the pier. With no visible light, they couldn't find any sign of life. No movement could be seen, and the only sound was the faint humming of power barely audible over the lapping waves. They frowned and continued walking. They turned away from the pier and began scanning the small, main street through the town, hoping for some sign of the dog.
The unmistakable sound of a dog barking filled the air suddenly, snapping the master to attention. They looked around furiously as the barks came seemingly at random over the wind. It was near enough to hear, but not near enough to be able to pinpoint where it was coming from. They quickly closed their eyes and focused. Another bark pierced the air. The master turned around. The pier! They began sprinting back up the street towards the gate.
Lights! Sure enough, where there had previously been only darkness, a pair of bright lights now shone from the end of the pier. A few other, smaller, fainter lights could be seen fluttering and flickering underneath them. People! The master frantically grabbed the flashlight and clicked it on. Waving the light furiously over their head, they followed the trail back to the gate. The dog barked again, and this time the master knew without a doubt that the dog was there, with those people. Don't leave without me! The sound of a motor drowned out the dog's barks.
"Hey!" the master shouted as they reached the gate, trying desperately to be heard over the roaring motor. They slammed against the gate, their hands gripping the bars and shaking it as much as they could. The rattling of metal on metal was loud, but the motor began to grow louder. Frothing and splashing water could now be heard. A boat! They're leaving! Another bark faintly echoed over the roaring water. The master pointed their light as they watched the boat slowly pull away from the dock and into the bay. No, no, no! As the boat gained speed, the master sprinted towards the beach, hoping they could flag it down with their flashlight.
They fell to their knees, sinking into the sand. Tears streamed down their face as they sobbed. The motor of the boat was barely an echo, and the lights were well beyond the horizon, the dog as well. As they wailed, the flashlight fell to the earth, the rapidly dimming light flickering slightly. They were all alone on the dark beach with only the sound of their crying and the waves for company. They reached into their bag and pulled out the handheld radio, cranking it clumsily while attempting to regain their composure. After a few minutes of turning the crank, they clicked the radio on. They hadn't adjusted the frequency since receiving the message to come here.
"...In range of this transmission," the radio announced suddenly, with more clarity than before. "The Army of the Dead is on the move. Repeat, the Army of the Dead marches from Branton to Rosby. We believe they intend to make an assault on Dragonstone Isle. Avoid all areas between Branton, Rosby, and Weymouth Bay. We cannot rescue you until the threat has passed. Any attempts to reach Dragonstone Isle will be met with force. Gods watch over you. Message repeats," it continued before repeating. The radio fell from their hands onto the sand, the message slowly fading out as the power drained. The sobs turned to maniacal laughter as the master gave into the futility of their situation.
"Have they gone?" a young woman's voice asked from behind. The master gasped in shock, falling over as they frantically turned themselves around to see who was talking. In the darkness, a small figure stood on the boardwalk above them, but the master couldn't make out any details.
"Who...?" the master stuttered, launching themselves to their feet. "Where did you come from?" The figure cocked their head.
"They left you here, didn't they?" she commented quietly. The master shivered uncontrollably, as if the temperature had plummeted suddenly.
"Who are you?" the master asked, their breath clearly visible where only moments before it had been fine. There was no mistake: the temperature had rapidly dropped.
"I've been watching them for a while now," the girl explained. "They think hiding on that cursed rock will keep them safe. No one's ever been safe there." The master began instinctively stepping backwards towards the sea, only to trip and fall onto their back. The girl giggled softly. "Be careful," she cautioned.
"I need to..." the master trailed off. "I have to go. I'm leaving!" The girl shook her head.
"The problem with being on an island," she explained. "Is that there's nowhere to run to. You just trap yourself there." The master scrambled to their feet, grabbing their things. This can't be! "Going so soon?"
"Leave me alone! Leave me alone! I'm nobody!" the master shouted as they began haphazardly sprinting down the beach. As they looked up, they found themselves face to face with the girl. The master stopped dead in their tracks, their eyes transfixed on the shining, red jewel on her neck.