Scourge of Chaos: Savage Healer

Sunday, Jishu, the ghouls, and even the restless and bound Arten froze. The howl had come from afar and echoed for a few seconds longer than it was necessary. A ghostly sound that seemed to chill the soul, rather than assault the ears. As it stopped echoing the night became darker, more oppressive. More dangerous. The swamp was generally a warm place, however the temperature seemed to drop just enough to make it uncomfortable. And an uncomfortable cold for an undead didn’t bode well.

Jishu’s hand was gripping the handle of his sheathed sword tightly. He looked around as the ghouls shuffled uncomfortably. Sunday felt as if they wanted to run, and the sole reason they had not was the undead’s control over them.

Jishu suddenly turned toward Sunday and took a step forward. Sunday understood. The howl had changed something in the undead’s mind. It had scared him. He was dropping the act.

“Enough with the secrets, friend. Do you know why I left you alone with the human even though he had nothing of value to offer? Do you know why I showed you the place where the spell rested? Do you know why I made you awaken near barrels of rotting ghoul food?”

Sunday tensed. “I thought you wanted to show me around? Like good hosts do?” he said. Playing the fool would hardly lead to a good resolution of the situation but there was not much else to do.

Chains rattled from the side and Sunday turned to see a couple of ghouls lead the toad creature from the cave by its bindings. It had a stout short body and a toad’s head. It walked on two legs, and its eyes were filled with fear and intelligence.

Sunday prepared to fight or flee as Jishu took another step forward. Jishu seemed to realize it, and stopped himself, placing a sardonic smile on his ugly face. “My attempts would’ve been obvious to another undead. All, from the lofty vampires who believe themselves perfect, to the untouchable wights, and even to the lowly empty wretches without a mind or soul, acting only according to their basest instincts, would’ve understood. Do you know what all undead have in common despite the many varieties?”

Sunday didn’t respond as the silence stretched. Jishu smiled wider.

“We all need sustenance. It might be only a passing need for some, but we all have it. Not in the way a living being might, but to stave away decay and mind fog and keep our vessels functional, we need to feed. For example, the ghouls need rotting flesh, like carrion preying on disease. And even one such as myself – a high-ghoul, and a bearer of a talent – cannot escape this fate,” Jishu said. Sunday saw where things were going and looked around. There was nowhere to run to and a single wrong move could provoke the mass of ghouls around to attack.

“I thought you might have recently woken up a vampire or a new variant, out to play a game with the poor hermit.” Jishu continued, “Your looks suggested it as you are well preserved. However, you cannot hide the fact that you weren’t a mage when we met and you didn’t so much as sniff the human. Mage blood is a delicacy hard to resist at any rank, or so I hear. And so are their souls for some more… peculiar representatives of our kind.”

Shit.

“Most undead are simpler. They can sustain themselves with the essence of death commonly present in drinks made for our kind. For some lucky ones, it is an almost unconscious thing, like breathing is for humans, but it can still be felt. And right after stepping into a new rank, the body hungers the most. You didn’t care about the moth cave where death essence was abundant like the air around us. And neither did you care about the living creature,” Jishu looked toward the chained toad person. “Despite their disgusting appearance, swamp ranun have flesh rich with nutrients that can be considered a treasure for those able to consume it. They were often hunted near larger settlements back in my time. They might be the most valuable thing in this swamp, apart from the inferni girl. Hard to get a hold of. There are many herbs, insects, and even simple spells in their diet, and some undead can extract great benefits from it.”

Sunday’s mind swirled with a thousand thoughts. He wasn’t about to eat a toad, much less a toad-looking person. He didn’t like where things were going. He had thought himself too clever, ignoring the fact that Jishu was centuries old and knew this world much better than most.

“So, you didn’t care about the inferni girl, you didn’t care about the ranun, you don’t need magi blood nor rotting flesh, and the rich death essence didn’t tempt you before or just after becoming a mage. Instead, you fell asleep, recovered while sleeping, and something crawled out from the abyss of your dreams.” The ghouls tightened the circle around Sunday, some baring their fangs at him. However, their eyes kept darting between the shadows of the swamp.

Jishu spread his arm to the side, never allowing the other one to leave the handle of his sword. “I showed you my secrets, taught you, allowed you access to my most precious spell and arts, and helped you become a mage in a shorter time than most clans would. All without pushing you for answers or prodding in your secrets. However, either whatever’s out there has sensed the casting of the spell, which is unlikely, or it has sensed you. I allowed you to come clean when I blamed it on the human, but you still didn’t. So, Sunday the Wanderer, who and what are you?”

The world waited for an answer. Sunday remained silent for a few moments, then let the tension leave him. He stood tall and prepared to ‘face the music’ as Old Rud had taught them – chin held high, and a hidden knife in your hand. Getting ready to summon the white moth was like putting his finger on the trigger of a gun that had equal chances of shooting bullets or blanks.

“Honestly, I’d love an answer myself,” he said with a wry smile. Who knew? Maybe his usefulness would once again outweigh the danger he posed. One could only hope. Plus, he still had Jishu’s spell held inside of his soul space. Could one threaten a spell? “I fell from the sky into the village. I know my name, and that something is after me. I didn’t know it would come so soon, nor what it is.”

He stopped at that and stared into Jishu’s dark eyes.

“You’re not lying, but you’re not telling me everything,” the undead eventually said with mild astonishment in his eyes.

“I don’t know what to say. I knew you would kill me the moment I stopped being useful to you. Sharing all of your secrets with me only sealed the deal. Who wouldn’t tie loose ends in your place? You have a lot to lose.”

Jishu nodded, “I do. The spell is too precious, and even knowing that I’m here is enough for me to want to end you. Things have changed now though.”

“How?”

“You’re smart and more talented than I could’ve hoped for. Being undead does not mean being immortal. Our bodies cannot last forever no matter what we do about it. I’ve plenty of time left and after you help me heal, I’ll return to my prime. Fixing my soul will become a matter of days once my body is well enough to absorb the essence of the world. I’ll need others around me when I’m ready to show myself again. Others who know what’s at stake and who share my passion. I’ll help you with the current predicament. Few things can hold against an onslaught of enraged ghouls,” Jishu said.

Sunday smelled bullshit, but he couldn’t understand exactly why. Was he that useful? Or maybe there was another detail he was missing. He still didn’t know what the other spell Jishu owned was. He doubted the undead man was as helpless as he had made out to be – a decaying mage with no ability to cast, reliant only on his control over the ghouls. No, there was something else. The human, the little inferni girl, the strange toad he had called a ranun.

What am I missing?

Another howl captivated their attention. A prolonged sound that was almost mocking in its tone. It came from everywhere around them and the ghouls panicked like Sunday hadn’t seen them before. They huddled closer together, screeched, and climbed trees and stones. Some pushed at each other and even started fighting before Jishu intervened. He barked at them in a language Sunday didn’t understand. However, he could feel the strange influence the man held over the monsters. It took him a few tries before they calmed down enough, which made Sunday believe that his control was not absolute. Jishu looked around and drew his sword. It was a simple short blade, well-kept, unlike its scabbard.

“Are you sure you don’t know what’s coming?” he hissed.

Sunday scoured the surroundings. The night had grown darker yet again as if the night was creeping toward them. Even his eyes did little to penetrate the thick curtain.

“A hound,” he eventually said. The shudder in his voice made him grind his teeth in frustration.

“A hound…” Jishu repeated. “Not any regular mutt, I assume? I’ve never heard of such a thing. You must truly be special. Is it a great beast, or a spell manifest? Or worse, perhaps?”

Sunday shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Something screamed in the distance – a ghoul perhaps. The sound was cut off just as suddenly as it had come.

Then hell came.

Sunday saw its massive frame as it appeared out of the darkness. A hound, a beast, a monster. It was larger than any dog or wolf had right to be, its head reaching Sunday’s chest. It walked slowly at first – a proud gait that assured everyone it was in control.

The beast had pitch-black fur, with two red eyes that pierced Sunday’s soul and threatened its very existence. The shadows draped over its massive frame as if they were curtains. Once again, terror the likes of which he couldn’t imagine shook him, and he squished the urge to flee as far away as possible. Or maybe, just maybe, death was the better option.

No! Fuck this! If he ran now, then he would have to run forever. The hound wouldn’t stop no matter the obstacles. He knew that deep in his bones. This was his best chance to kill it.

Jishu yelled out. A sound as grating as the man’s presence, and the horde of ghouls screamed alongside him. For a moment their mad rush eclipsed the terror the presence of the hound elicited in Sunday. It took them mere moments to jump at the beast with claws and teeth.

Then it moved. It was fast and strong and Sunday hadn’t noticed its claws beforehand. It met the charge of the ghouls with a wide-open mouth and a row of teeth like daggers. Pieces of ghoul flesh and limbs flew in through the air and their screeching took over the sounds of battle.

Still, the smaller monsters were many and they clung to its body tooth and nail, clawing at its tough hide and trying to go for its eyes. It roared and its red eyes became even fiercer. Steady, despite the horde of ghouls trying to rip its throat open it started shortening the distance between itself and Sunday.

Jishu stood still, short sword drawn.

“A beautiful beast,” Sunday heard him whisper. The man didn’t seem afraid; however, the toad person was positively terrified. Its bindings were wrapped around one of the trees and they were taut from the creature’s effort to free itself. No ghouls were left to look after it.

Arten’s situation wasn’t any better. He was struggling like a worm, crawling away from the fight. His feet and hands were tied close to his body and Sunday briefly saw the terror in his eyes before the human’s wiggling turned his body away.

“Tell me, Sunday the Wanderer, do you have a talent? A horrible gift? What is so special about you that a beast as beautiful and terrifying as this has come all this way to kill you?” Jishu turned toward Sunday again, and his smile was akin to that of the hound tearing apart his ghouls behind him. “Are you perhaps a fleeing worshipper? Did you anger a Divine?”

“I told you, I don’t know!” Have I angered a divine? Can gods hear and punish me for my blasphemy?

Jishu laughed and stepped closer to Sunday. “Good. Do you accept to be my disciple, to learn and to grow under my tutelage until such a time that one betrays the other? After all, all relationships end in betrayal, do they not? Accept, and I’ll save you!”

With a jump, the hound shook off most of the ghouls clinging to its body. Its fur was torn and wounds covered its mighty form. Sunday ignored Jishu and felt something stir in his chest. Excitement? Fear? If it bleeds, it can be killed, right?

The hound roared under the ghouls' continued suicidal attacks. Many lay dead, torn into pieces. However, the monsters were unrelenting, guided by sheer instinct for survival and madness. Jishu hadn’t said a word to them the whole time.

Agreeing would be like making a deal with the devil, and Sunday felt he had already signed one.

“I’ll think about it,” he grinned madly at the undead and rushed into the fray.

I’ll save myself.