The Dead King

To say that Marin moved at a speedy pace would be an understatement. How foolish had he been, having half the mind he had been followed and still deciding to separate himself from his subordinate.

Never would he have imagined the people who had been spying on him from the rooftops were the same group of rogues who had ambushed them a couple days ago. He had left them in icy pods half way out of the ground, creating ice with the toughness that would take over a whole 24 hours to be conquered.

In all that time that him and Gus spent traveling, he could’ve sworn he would never see their hides again. Yet here they were, they had successfully caught up to them, tracked them down, and located them in this city.

Marin pondered how in the world they would’ve known they’d be here, in this city. It didn’t take him more than a few thoughts, though, to remember that these four rogues had been eavesdropping on both of them for sometime, and they were bound to hear Gus or him mention they were going to Tarenfall.

What a terrible oversight on Marin’s part. He could have never predicted they would chase them all the way here for revenge, especially since Marin believed he had been quite merciful from their attack, suspending them in the ice for only a day as punishment.

That must have been quite humiliating for them, because they were here now – and ready to get revenge. Marin had underestimated the lengths they would go to settle something that seemed petty in his mind.

Due to all these reasonings, Marin originally had no issue leaving Gus at the shop. What reasons would there be for anyone to attack him? He had obviously miscalculated. The rogues had made him regret not dealing with them in a more harsh manner. If they end up hurting Gus in a permanent way or even killing him, they would certainly deserve death in his mind. In fact, he had already ended the lives of two of them, just to be safe.

Marin moved at a speed no normal person could move at. He never did master the skill of Speed, a technique commonly used by rogues or other fighters, but what he had mastered was something of similar movement, and one that lined up perfectly with his chosen element, Kinetic Ice.

As he moved forward on the road, ice appeared in front of him. With each step, the ice automatically flung him forward at a speed that a strong man could hurl a sports ball, which was considerable when moving at that constant rate.

This was the same skill Marin had used months ago when he first noticed that Heroca Town was being raided from his castle home.

Marin’s body was lurched forward, ragged clothing rippling in the wind as he bolted down Tarenfall’s road, barely avoiding other bystanders. He had to hurry. The difference between Gus being attacked or saved could fall to mere seconds.

He concentrated as he created the ice with special movement properties. The crackling noises traveled ahead of him, as he noticed citizens of the city jerk their heads meters before he would pass them. Behind him, as soon as the ice was no longer needed for his feet, it evaporated away, returning to the plane which he had originally pulled it from.

In no time at all, he rounded the corner in which he had first left Gus at. Sure enough, and not to his surprise, he saw Gus being held tight by one rogue, and their leader standing in front of him, dagger in hand, and ready to stab.

He had seconds.

To his demise, though, the leader – she was ruthless, and took no extra time in seeing her plan done. Not more than a second after his glance of the situation, she drove the dagger into Gus, who then lurched forward, his soft brown hair hanging in front his head.

“NO!!!” Marin belted out.

He extended his hand, reaching out. He still had a considerable distance to cover, but with all his might, a glowing blue beam of elemental ice lunged from his palm, aiming directly at her.

It was no use, at the sight of the attack, she used her speed skill to zap to the left, avoiding the beam far before it even got close to her.

The other burly rogue who had been holding Gus prisoner felt no need to subdue him any longer. After that moment, he dropped Gus, who fell to the ground helplessly, grasping his gut.

He too, used speed to fly away to the rooftop.

I will not let them go. They will DIE, Marin thought to himself.

These rogues were fast, and well practiced, especially her. However, any encounter with a wizard of Arkana was not to be taken lightly. Even if you could outrun one with a mastered speed skill, wizards have a vast array of tools at their disposal to keep up and eventually catch you, in one way or another.

The leader of the group within a second had climbed up a building quicker than a massive spider could, and was on the roof. She looked down at Marin knowing there was no easy way he could get up to her level.

How wrong she was.

A huge ice pillar lunged out of ground in record speed, with Marin standing on top. It shot him up to her level at nearly the same pace she was able to achieve.

Eyes wide, she realized this ice elemental was more than she had originally sized up. In this moment, the woman came to terms with the knowledge that if she was to get away from Marin, she had to move, and move very quick, spending no time to look back to see if the ice wizard was keeping up.

She darted off, jumping from roof to roof.

Marin sprayed kinetic ice on the roofs and followed after her.

Right before the chase had officially begun though, she shouted out.

“You can chase after me all you want! That is, if you don’t care about your friend dying! I bet that poison I laced with my dagger is meeting his heart just about now!” She taunted, yelling over her shoulder.

Marin stopped in his tracks. A cold, dreaded reality set into his mind.

I can’t chase after her. Not now.

Marin gripped his hands into fists, silently cursing the situation. He had no choice. He needed to save Gus first, payment for the action would have to come later.

He watched as the blur that she became leaped from roof to roof, until she was nearly out of sight. Marin turned around, he leaped back, flying off the building, and back to where Gus lay dying.

“Gus. Gus!” Marin cried out, shaking him, and looking into his eyes.

Gus struggled to respond. “Ooooh… Marin. That wench stabbed me. Oh it hurts like the dickens-” He curled more, arms wrapped around his stomach, voice sounding stretched.

“Open up, Gus! I need to see!” Marin tried prying Gus’s arms from his stomach and straightening him out. Gus knew what Marin was trying to do, and it took much strength on his own end to allow his arm muscles to relax for Marin to take a look at the wound.

“This is not good. This is very not good.” Marin declared in a monotonous tone. The gash seeped blood from Gus’s side. The dagger had easily pierced through his leather clothing, and strands of flesh glistened in the light from the tear.

Marin was no doctor in any sense. He had no idea how to tend to the stab wound, other than keeping pressure on it to stop the bleeding. If that woman’s claim about the poison was true in any way, he would not have much time to act.

“I need a doctor! Anyone!” Marin looked up, crying out. The streets had cleared out. Not a soul had stuck around to witness the crime that had taken place moments ago.

Marin ran up to the shop door that Gus had been in earlier. He grabbed the handle and yanked.

The door was locked.

Marin cursed, and ran back to Gus. His options were limited. No one had stuck around for fear of their own life, naturally. Anyone inside the buildings around him had locked their doors to protect themselves. Marin knew if he had any chance of saving Gus, he needed to take the boy and find someone who could help.

The king grabbed Gus, lifting him up, and holding him in his arms. This came at great pain to Gus, where even the slightest movement irritated his stab wound.

“Keep pressure on that, Gus! I’m going to find help.”

Gus’s hand covered the left side of his stomach, as small amounts of blood trickled between his fingers.

Kinetic ice appeared before Marin again, and he hopped on it, lunging himself forward. If he could put some distance between him and the scene of the crime, he might be able to find people who could offer some aid.

He rounded a few corners, and to his prediction, tattered citizens were walking the streets and talking, not knowing an attempted murder happened just a few blocks besides them.

“Hello! Anyone, I need help! My friend here has been stabbed, I need a doctor!” He shouted out to a few of these people.

They all ran from him. Seeing an ice elemental actively using his skills in beggar’s attire while holding a wounded man was more than what any of them had signed up for that day.

Marin pleaded more to them. A few froze in their tracks, not sure what to do. Most ran. There were even some who ignored the situation entirely, as if it was a semi-common occurrence to see a stabbing in the city.

As he looked to the crowd, Marin prayed that one of the remaining citizens who stuck around to gawk at the scene would be able to offer any form of assistance. None of them did.

Marin prepared himself to move on further down the road, trying his bets there. Gus was dying in his arms. He did not have the time to wait around for an answer any longer.

Just then, a man busted out of a diner. He was fat and greasy, with a thin beard, ear to ear, growing from his neck.

“What in tarnation is the rukus out here?!” He bellowed in annoyance, as if this distraction was hurting his business.

“Oh, my,” he stated in a more serious tone when he approached the two of them, and saw blood dripping from Gus.

“Sir! I beg of you! I need a doctor for my friend! Anyone at this point who can help me!” Marin looked down at Gus to check on him. He was going pale in the face, life slowly draining from him. His moans had become quieter.

“There ain’t a doctor around here for several miles! You’d have to go to… wait… There is a doctor who can help you. Maybe.” The restaurant owner uttered the phrase in an uncertain manner, almost as if talking about this doctor brought dread to him.

“You need to… Ah! Follow me!” The fat man started running to the best of his ability. Marin followed after him, ignoring the rest of the bystanders who stood, watching.

He wasn’t fast at all. His large gut jiggled at every step. It rippled so much Marin wondered if it could be detached from him. He was already wheezing and they hadn’t been running for more than thirty seconds.

This was too slow. At this rate, Gus would be dead. Marin needed to do something else. Fortunately, the man knew that as well.

He started giving directions on where to go, gasping for oxygen between each breath. He bent over, meaty hand on what was left of his knee, trying to catch his breath.

“Left… go left. Go all the way down til’ you get… get to the willow tree. WHEEZE! Then you need to go… The skinny red path in between the wall! Follow it… until you get to that dark building. The one with the pointy roof!”

Marin ran off without another word. He didn’t even have the time to thank the man, which came at a heavy heart to him, because that was the only person who was willing to offer him help. Gus was dying though, and every second counted.

Marin skated once again. He zagged left, traversing down a more narrow path than the one he had been on. He followed it for sometime, focusing as hard as he could to find a willow tree. It hadn’t come up yet. He began to think maybe the large restaurant owner had made a mistake, or perhaps the tree had been cut down.

He kept moving though with little else as options. To his luck, a sorry looking willow tree that was half dead stood its ground on a small plot of land. When he reached it, his head jerked around, trying to spot his next direction.

In between two houses was an overgrown red brick path, that the ground was slowly eating away at. Behind the two homesteads was a city wall, and he guessed on the other side of that wall was the outside of the district. He ran down the path. As he did, he passed the homes on the left and right of him. There was a gap in the wall with a gated fence.

The man never had mentioned a fence. It was iron, and painted black, with pointed spikes decorating the top of it. When Marin ran to it, he tried kicking the gate with his foot. It didn’t budge, it was locked with several deadbolts, which seemed a bit excessive.

Marin froze the gate – not just coated the outside of it in ice, but actually infused the ice into the metal itself, which was a much harder feat for any ice elemental. At that point it was as brittle as sandstone.

He kicked the gate again, and it burst into many pieces, flying ahead of him. He ran through the gap in the large wall. On the other side, was a lone house surrounded by dead trees. The lawn was dead, brown grass covered the area. A crow flew off at his arrival.

Trash littered the yard. Scraps of metal and other machinery sat around rusting. Broken glass hid in the long dead grass, ready to cut a foot at a moment’s notice. Whoever created this stuff, left it out to rot when it was no longer of use.

The black house was in disrepair. Shingles were missing, the windows were so dirty that they no longer served their purpose. Some windows had broken, and were boarded up instead. The fancy architecture of the house could barely be appreciated with much of the finer details broken off. A lot of the outside work had rotted. From what he could tell, the inside must not be too much better.

This must’ve been a joke. What kind of doctor would live in such a run down house with such unfavorable scenery? Still, Marin didn’t have much of an option. He rushed up to the porch, and the decayed wood flexed under his and Gus’s weight.

Besides the door was a golden plaque that contained a name, but it was so tarnished, the wording was unreadable.

Gus let out a quiet moan. Marin didn’t have time to scope the place out. He had to save his servant. Marin didn’t have much options, so at his will, a table made of ice crackled into existence besides him. He laid Gus on it, then began hammering the door with his fist.

“Hello?! Is anyone there?! I have an emergency!” Marin continued banging on the door, but he heard no one running to meet him.

He shouted more, trying to get someone’s attention. When enough time had passed with no response, which honestly, wasn’t much time, he used his ice powers once again, and relieved the door of its purpose.

Marin picked Gus back up, who had gone completely colorless, and unmoving. He brought himself into the house while cradling Gus.

Marin cried out again. “HELLO?!” He gazed around at the living room he was now standing in. Whoever lived here was quite the hoarder. No walls in the house could be seen with the packed paper work, filing cabinets and garbage lined up everywhere.

Beakers and glass jars containing old liquids used up every bit of space on tables and stands. Scribbled notes and crumbled up papers covered the carpeted floor. He even took notice of animal limbs that were hanging near the ceiling. The worst of it all was the fine layer of dust that covered everything in sight.

Marin didn’t even know where to begin. At last though, he heard a noise from below him. He heard footsteps, and noises of glass clanging together. There was a ruffling noise. Someone down in the basement had become wise of the intruder in the house.

Then, behind some walls, he heard a person run up a flight of stairs, each step creaking the wood. Someone was coming. They had been down in the basement doing something, and were now putting that on pause to see what was going on in his home.

The running became louder, and from the kitchen on his right, a man appeared.

This man – he was not healthy at all. He looked to be mid sixties, around the same age as Loid, but looked to be in far worse condition than Marin’s right-hand man.

His decrepit body was hunched over, skin wrinkled, thin, full of blemishes and scars. He had a large chemical burn on the right side of his face, and on some of his right hand. He had on dusty, circular glasses held together by wire, that sat slightly crooked on his long, hooked nose. One lens was cracked.

He had a grossly receded hairline, giving him an elongated forehead. When the hair did start, it didn’t stop. He had it pony-tailed in the back. It was dark gray, thin, and brittle. The man had zero facial hair at all.

The most maddening part of this stranger was the stained lab coat he wore that at one time was white, and had turned gray and yellow from the countless spills it endured. The length of it reached down to his knees. The man looked as if he hadn’t showered since the Harmon Wars. He appeared to be in the same condition as his house.

Under any other circumstance, Marin would turn heel and leave immediately. There were over one hundred things wrong with this man and his entire situation in general, he appeared to be unhinged in every way. It would lead any sane person to practice a large degree of caution, and stay as far from this place as possible. That was probably why the gate had been locked.

Marin, though, had no other options. It was this, and nothing else.

“What are you doing in here?!” The man choked. His voice was raspy and hindered. It sounded as if he had issues pronouncing certain syllables.

“Are you a doctor?!” Marin asked, ignoring his question.

The man looked down at Gus. He shook his head. “Why do you guys always do this to me,” he uttered to himself.

He ran up to Gus’s body. Moving his arm, he inspected the wound. It had already begun to rot away the surrounding flesh.

“Balls of Nuro! That wound is majorly infected!!” The doctor declared. Marin wasn’t sure what that phrase meant, but he appreciated the man’s sudden grasp of the situation.

“Quick, follow me!” The doctor moved like a chicken, his neck veering around, trying to find something.

“Actually, come over here!” He added, changing course back to the living room. At the long table in the center of the room, he threw his arms across it, knocking every glass beaker and jar taking up space. In one single moment, he had cleared what had taken him months to accumulate on the table.

It all broke and shattered onto the floor. Suspicious liquids trailed across the room. He gestured Marin to lay Gus onto the table.

“If you smell something burning, that’s just the hexaglossen relieving itself of its liquid form. Careful not to step in it,” he causally mentioned as he produced a knife, and cut more of Gus’s armor off around the stab area.

Marin looked down, and saw a trail of liquid grow smaller as vapors rose from it. For once, he was glad he couldn’t breathe.

This man, who may not even be a real doctor, took a closer look at slash. His bony fingers that surprisingly did not differ too much from Marin’s own, felt the wound and stretched it ever so slightly to get a better idea of what he was dealing with.

It had only been twenty minutes or so, but whatever that rogue coated her dagger with, the poison was so acidic, it had already begun to eat away at the surrounding flesh. The wound was majorly discolored, and it started transforming into a problem more severe than blood loss.

“This is extremely unfortunate. Quite the morbid situation,” the doctor identified. He turned to look at Marin, his neck stretching like an ostrich.

“This is a stab wound, and the weapon was coated in a deadly acidic toxin. Judging by how the wound now looks, his entire bloodstream is lethal. He will die within the hour.” The doctor had some sort of speech impediment. It sounded like he hadn’t spoken at all in some time.

“There’s got to be something you can do! I begging you, sir. Is there some sort of antidote you can give him?!” Marin tried.

The man itched the front of his chin with a single finger in thought.

“Perhaps.”

He got up, and ran to the kitchen. “If I can work fast enough, that is.” He ran down to his stairway. “Stay with the boy! Watch him! I’ll be back as soon as I can!”

Marin heard the rapid creaking of the old man’s wooden stairs leading to the basement. They creaked at a much faster pace than when he ran up them, indicating that this event was more serious to him than whatever intruder had barged in to begin with.

The wooden creaking stopped half-way down, Marin could hear a loud tumbling and crashing noise. Had he just fallen down the stairs? It was silent for a moment, but then noises resumed as he heard clashing glass beakers.

Marin turned to look back at Gus, satisfied that some sort of activity was going on in the basement. Gus had his eyes closed, and had gone completely inanimate. His breathing was weak, as his mouth hung open, trying to draw in the air around him. Beads of cold sweat sat on top of his pale complexion. His eyelids had gone red.

Marin ran his glove covered hand through Gus’s hair. “This is all my fault,” he said to himself.

He grasped Gus’s wrist. “Can you hear me, Gus?” He said a bit louder. “I found someone who might be able to help you. I hope he can help you. I hope.”

Marin took full responsibility of Gus’s predicament. He regretted ever requesting him to come on this journey. He now believed that this quest should have been done only by him. If the young lad should perish, it would haunt him indefinitely. He had his whole life ahead of him, and he should have lived it out in Whitewood or Heroca or where ever that might be, including getting married and having children.

Everything had changed for Gus since Marin arrived back into the world. Perhaps if he had stayed dead, no harm would ever have come to him. He still questioned the coincidence of the raid on Heroca, it just had to happen two days after he woke back up. That was an event that could’ve gotten Gus killed, and in fact, had gotten many killed.

Marin lowered his head, and prayed. He prayed that Gus would live, and the mad, questionable doctor in the basement below, would hurry up on some sort of antidote.

There were sounds of glass shattering below the floor boards. He heard cursing, and liquid pouring. What the heck was going on down there?

The doctor was repeating phrases. He uttered what sounded to be math in a rapid manner. Marin used his developed sense of hearing to try and listen in.

“You exposed yourself to solvent 132, I mean who does that?”

Oh great, he is crazy. This man was the type of guy to talk to himself to keep his mind sane, yet with all that talking, how in the world did he develop that speech impediment?

More liquids could be heard being poured. “AHA!” More pacing. Steps moving back and forth. Rustling of papers, more beakers being slammed together.

Gus was nearly gone now, this man had to hurry.

“Okay! Okay!” The doctor ran back up his flight of the stairs to the kitchen. When he arrived, there were new wet stains on his coat. In his hands was a glass of clear liquid, and a syringe.

“This! This might do the trick.” He got on his knees in front of Gus’s body, and prepared to load the syringe with the liquid.

“Is that thing clean?” Marin asked.

The doctor froze. “...Good catch. Hand me that glass jar on the shelf. No, not that one, that one! NO! The one over- YES! Bring that to me!!”

Marin rushed over with a jar that had on a lid.

The doctor grabbed it, and strained, popping the grip that the lid had over the top.

“This is a sterile substance,” he mentioned, swishing the end of the syringe into the liquid. Once he had done that, the syringe was placed into the glass he had originally brought up. He pulled the plunger back with his thumb, and Marin watched the barrel of the syringe fill with the clear liquid.

He pulled it out, and jabbed Gus with the shot, emptying in the payload into his arm.

“What we have here,” he started while removing the needle from his arm, “is a powerful anti-acidic concoction I have brewed up. It’s general use only, I couldn’t refine it and purpose it directly for your friend here, due to not having the privilege of identifying what kind of toxin was thrown into him.

But we didn’t really have the time for that, did we?” He grinned a wide grin, showing off all his small teeth, which creeped Marin out more than it should have.

The doctor placed the needle onto the table, and grabbed a jar to screw the lid back on. “Now, that is going to neutralize his blood for the time being. It’s not enough to save him, but it buys me more time to come up with a proper counter to whatever is in him. Which I first have to find out. I’m going to need a sample of his blood.”

With that phrase uttered, he placed his palm inches above Gus’s wound, and blood rose from the gash, as if the blood was almost alive.

Marin stared in horror.

The doctor brought his palm up-right, and a small orb of floating blood hovered above his open hand.

The doctor grinned again, something he shouldn’t ever do. “Oh, I hope this doesn’t scare you. I’m not an every-day doctor, you know. I’m just going to take this sample down to my lab. I will be back up with some medical gauze to treat his wound.”

He walked back to his kitchen, and around the corner. “Feel free to make yourself at home, by the way.”