The Demon's Dominion

Through the Forest - Part Two

          
         Funeral

   The Forest had become much quieter, as the fighting subsided. Hunters everywhere were now focused on finding Undeads. At least twenty new Undeads were known to be roaming around, somewhere, and everyone was keeping a very high level of vigilance. All the new Undeads had to be found and destroyed, before they adjusted to the change and became able to Hunt in groups.
   Many of the Undead-Hunting squads were Freeze Squads, in the manner of the squads that defended the Harvest Seasons in various parts of the World, when Chaos slaves attacked Humanity's food sources.
   Menat, Micah, and Terren had been joined by Garen and Strakken, forming a full squad of Combat Magisters. They had taken a zigzagging route through the now-quiet battlefield, hoping to maximize the opportunities for Undeads to notice them, and make themselves available for destruction. So far, they had found only other Hunters and a couple of stray Elves still alive. The Elves didn't last long.
   Several beheaded bodies of Hunters showed that some of the battle's dead had been caught soon enough, before they had been able to get free. All the Hunters they met warned them to be careful - too many of them were known to be dead, the bodies missing.
   It was hard to move without seeing evidence of the battle. Orange and red blood splashed everywhere, bodies of the various participants in different degrees of disrepair, weapons lying around. It was a mess. The area would stink with rot for days, until the scavenger wildlife had eaten the remains.
   The squad moved carefully, trying to look and listen in all directions. They had all trained in a kind of "zone awareness" that allowed each member of a combat team to intensify his attention by narrowing it to the portion of the surrounding area nearest to him, letting the others watch behind him, but the prospect of a surprise attack by an Undead made it difficult to refrain from trying to be too diffusely observant.
           ######
   The Forest had thinned a lot, allowing the southern mountain range to become visible. Their observation range was greatly extended, letting them feel a little less tense. As they scanned their surroundings they gave more attention to the individual trees that were thick-trunked enough for an Undead to hide behind.
   The noise of a fight came from somewhere ahead, left of their line of travel. The squad moved quickly to investigate. Before they could locate the scene, it had gone quiet, so it was necessary to search for it.
   As the group came around a clump of large bushes, they saw a solitary Human figure. It immediately rushed them, weapon raised, a crazed attitude in its every aspect. Undead!
   Terren got off one Ball Lightning cast, nearly simultaneous with Menat's Mage's Wrath and a strong Dragon Breath from Garen. Terren's cast hit center-of-mass, and Menat's Wrath fried the Undead's face. Garen's screaming white hot blast hit the Undead's waistline, destroying its pouch, setting fire to its surcoat and heating its armor to a smoking red glow. The thing didn't seem to care, continuing its rush toward them at inhuman speed, leaning far forward into its run.
   The Hunters were ready when it arrived. They all sidestepped and stabbed as it passed, but only Terren got a hit. The Undead very quickly stopped, again leaning at an insane angle, backwards, as it dug in with its feet, gouging up dirt and weeds in a small cloud. Menat struck with Icestorm, getting a tight group of deep stabs, as its progress paused at turnaround. Garen scored another Dragon Breath hit, setting the thing's head on fire.
   The Undead screamed, sounding more enraged than pained, as it scrambled to get moving in the direction of the Humans. Its head was burning like a meaty greasefire, orangish flame with oily smoke trailing behind. Terren blasted it again, then got another hit with his foil as it passed through the squad.
   It was obvious by now the Undead was blind, maybe deaf, also. Its head was ablaze, and the fire at its waist was growing. Garen cast another Dragon Breath to help things along, then everyone attacked with their weapons. The Undead went into a kind of wildly spastic gyration, as it tried to attack in every direction at once, swinging its two-hand weapon, a War Axe, with great speed and dexterity.
   The squad stepped back, out of the Undead's reach, and took turns Maging it, until it fell, still blazing. Strakken cast Tidal Wave, using the water spell to put out the fire. Garen used its axe to behead the steaming corpse, preventing the Demon from reclaiming it.
   Everyone carefully checked their surroundings, making sure no new threats were approaching. The Undead had been fighting. Where was its opponent? A dead Hunter nearby meant they had to deal with another new Undead. They began a careful search of the area.
   "Here, guys! Found him!" Strakken was the lucky winner. "I'm not sure, but he should have got the Offer, by now."
   "It's Combat Master Mekkun. A neighbor of mine. He's got a child, and his woman is pregnant." Garen whirled, frantically looking around, almost ready to weep. "He often takes my Novice niece Outside with him. I hope she's not here, too."
   Menat and Terren began a circular sweep of the area, searching for any more bodies.
   Garen calmed, re-establishing discipline, and hefted the axe, clearly reluctant to behead a friend. He raised the axe, but Strakken said, "Hold, there. I've got Identify. Let me make sure, before you do that."
   Garen lowered the axe and stepped back. Identify was a spell that let the caster discover useful information about a target, including whether it was truly dead.
   Strakken cast, stood quiet a moment, then said, "Mekkun is True Dead. He Denied the Demon's Offer."
   Everyone was stunned. None of them had ever encountered an example of a True Dead Denial. It was something nearly nobody ever actually saw, just a subject of heroic fantasy stories.
   "Ok. We can't leave him here. We must take him home." Garen was openly crying, now. "We have to be sure everyone knows the truth, give him respect."
   A crashing racket east of the squad alerted them to the approach of another group. They got back into Combat mode quickly, then relaxed when they saw it was Hunters.
   Garen recognized the teenaged girl leading the way."Sacy! Are you ok? What happened?" Garen and the girl collided as she rushed to hug him.
   "Uncle Garen! Where's Mekkun?!? He was fighting an Undead he told me to run get help! Where is he?" The girl noticed the body. "NO! NO! NO! That's not Mekkun!"
   "I'm sorry, but it is. He's True Dead. Hey! You fargers stay away! He Denied the Demon!" Garen looked ready to attack the newcomers.
   "You're sure? He's True Dead?" One of them asked, a bit skeptically.
   Strakken spoke up, "Yes. I've cast Identify. He's True Dead."
   Everyone relaxed. Strakken was well-known in Sly'Ythra for being very intolerant of foolishness. His word on anything was taken as fact, by all who knew him, even if they didn't like him.
   Everyone stood quietly a moment, marveling at the near-mythic event they were involved with.
   "Right, then. We need a couple of poles, for a stretcher. The two largest of us carry him, the others stand Escort." Garen held the girl, trying to comfort her. "These things happen, child. We all lose people. Why don't you practice a Meditation while we take care of things, ok?"
   The girl calmed, as she began a Meditation, and stood quietly, looking at her dead friend. All Hunters learned emotional discipline, or died. Novices were held to the same standards as everyone else, in that. The World had no mercy at all for Hunters who couldn't take, and keep, self-control.
   Two of the late arrivals found and cut two long straight poles for a stretcher to carry Mekkun home. They used the Undead's equipment to make the bed between the poles, placing Mekkun's body on it, with a strap to keep it there, made of the Undead's steel equipment harness.
   While this was being done, the others kept watch for any threats, and discussed the proper ritual forms. All were familiar with how returning a True Dead home was to be done. They had been raised since early childhood on the many stories of heros and cowards, the World's equivalent of fairy tales, used in the way of all Human societies since the Stone Age to teach children the values and standards required to maintain a population under constant threat of extinction.
   When the stretcher and body were ready, Menat and Garen, being the largest of them, slung their shields, then took it up and placed the poles on their shoulders. The others took positions on each side, to guard against any indignities that might threaten. Sacy led off, moving east toward Sly'Ythra, with Micah and Terren bringing up the rear.
           ######
   It was almost an hour's walk to Sly'Ythra. They were attacked twice by Forest People, but Micah and Terren were able to deal with the nuisances very quickly.
   Someone in the Escort party must have pinged a friend in Town. There was a huge crowd of Hunters Outside, waiting for them, all equipped in their best armor and weapons, cleaned and polished to the highest degree. The glittering array of several thousand Hunters covered a very large area, shining in the light of the lowering sun.
   When the Escort was about a hundred paces from the crowd, the ones not carrying the stretcher began banging their weapons against their shields, setting the beat on each step of their left foot. The crowd joined in, quickly achieving a near-perfect unity of the beat. The volume of the sound was enormous, seeming to echo off the sky, itself.
   The crowd parted for them, letting them reach the Gate without slowing. When they arrived, they stopped, the beat going silent.
   The Gatewatch stepped up to the body. He cast Identify, paused, then Announced, "This man is True Dead! He has Denied the Demon!"
   The Gate rapidly cleared, as the bystanders heard the verification and got out of the way.
   The crowd was very quiet, as the Escort entered with their burden, turning right and following the Wall until they came to two stone blocks. These were about shoulder high, conveniently situated for placing the stretcher atop them, making a display of the dead man for all to see.
   When the stretcher had been positioned properly, the Escorts lined up along the Wall behind the bier. The beat of weapons on shields began again, reverberating echoes sweeping down the narrow streets of the Town. Everyone waited, keeping the beat. Nobody spoke.
   Menat pinged Sila. "We found a True Dead Denial. Equip for Outside, then come to Fountain Square. Bring the kids."
   "Who?" Sila was as shocked as anyone else had been, at this extraordinary event. "Anyone we know?"
   "Combat Master Mekkun. I'm in the Escort. Come to the Fountain. Bring the kids."
   "Ok. We'll talk, after." Sila knew the ritual as well as anyone else, knew that Menat's Escort duty would delay their reunion. Soon, Sila had herself and her children fully equipped in their Hunting gear, joining the stream of others on the streets moving toward the ringing steel crash of the funeral in Fountain Square, ready to join the community's show of respect for a True Dead.
          ######
   After a short time, a young woman arrived in Fountain Square, leading a small child by the hand, her belly big with another child on the way. Mekkun's Widow, the Mother of his children.
   She'd had time to prepare herself for this. She would have experienced Mekkun's death in ping. It was always so; the dying never left their loved ones without that last touch.
   The Widow stepped slowly toward the body of her man. When she saw it was truly him, a heartwrenching wail escaped her, before she clamped down sternly. She touched his face, then backed away ten steps, and stood, waiting.
   The pulse of the steel beat of weapons on shields continued, growing in intensity and volume as more Hunters arrived to add to the numbers in Fountain Square. Nobody spoke.
   A party of Hunters had gone Outside, found a tree of the appropriate type, cut it into manageable pieces, then returned. They now arranged the wood between the stone blocks in a manner suitable for a large bonfire, stepping well aside when they finished.
   At a nudge from Garen, Novice Sacy stepped forward from the line of Escorts against the Wall.
   The weapons' beat stopped. When Fountain Square had become silent, Novice Sacy spoke, in Announcement mode, so all would hear.
   "I was Hunting with Combat Master Mekkun. He was teaching me how to track, and better manage Mana for selfHealing. An Undead attacked us. He blocked the Undead from reaching me, and both of them fell down. I was able to stab the Undead once. Combat Master Mekkun ordered me to run away and get help, so I did. I found Hunters coming from Town to Hunt Undeads. They returned with me. We found the Undead already destroyed by a squad of Combat Magisters, who had also found Combat Master Mekkun. Combat Magister Strakken had already Identified Combat Master Mekkun as True Dead, so we prepared for Escort." She stood, waiting.
   After a long moment of grief shared between friends, the Widow nodded to Sacy.
   Then Strakken stepped out. "I was with four other Combat Magisters, in a squad, Hunting Undeads on our way here. We heard a fight. We ran to investigate, but it was finished, when we got there. The Undead attacked us. We destroyed it. Then we searched for whoever it had been fighting, thinking we should end the new Undead before it ran free. I found Combat Master Mekkun, dead. It seemed to me that there had been time enough for the Demon's Offer, but Mekkun had not re-animated. I cast Identify, discovering he was True Dead. Then Novice Sacy arrived with help. We set up proper Escort, and brought Combat Master Mekkun home."
   Again, the Widow nodded, signalling acceptance of the story.
   The Widowed Mother backed up another five paces. Strakken and Sacy returned to their positions in the line of Escorts against the Wall. The story had been told, and accepted. All the thousands of people in Fountain Square were silent, waiting.
   The Widow stood quietly for a time, staring at her man's funeral bier. Suddenly, the bright red glare of Firestorm appeared in front of her and streamed into the pile of wood, setting it ablaze, very bright and hot.
   The beat of steel on steel resumed, more sharply defined than before, reverberating between the walls around Fountain Square.
   When the funeral pyre had been well-established, a Hunter stepped from the crowd of onlookers and placed his shield on the ground, in front of the Mother. The shield was identical to Mekkun's.
   After he had returned to his place, another man stepped forward, and removed his armor, carefully folding the platemail into a tidy layer in the shallow bowl of the shield. The armor was the same as Mekkun's.
   Next, a woman came up, and placed her epee carefully on top of the armor. Mekkun's epee remained with him.
   Another woman removed her helm, dropped some gold coins into it, then passed it to the man next to her. He added some coins and passed it onward. The helm kept moving, coins being added until they began to spill. The man holding it stepped up to the shield in front of the Widow, and poured the coins onto the items already there. The helm hadn't yet completed the circuit of the crowd, so he returned to his position, picked up the spilled coins, placed them in the helm, and passed the helm onward.
   The movements of the helm seemed to keep the rhythm of the crash of the weapons against shields, as everyone present unconsciously matched themselves with the beat.
   When the helm had completed its circuit around the crowd, it had been filled and emptied numerous times. The last person, a young girl, poured the accumulation of coins onto the pile, then carefully set the helm upright on top, and returned to her place, to rejoin the unceasing steel-on-steel beat. Still, no other sound could be heard.
   By now, Combat Master Mekkun's body had been mostly consumed, the stretcher having long since collapsed into the fire. A large hot pile of smoking coals continued to heat the area nearby, with the metallic remains of the equipment worn by Mekkun and the Undead that had killed him glowing red-orange on top.
   The slam of steel on steel continued, unabated, ringing into the sky. Nobody spoke.
   When the fire was no longer smoking, the Widow bowed her head and waited. The Escort moved to the shield on the ground in front of her. When they had each gripped the shield with one hand, the Escort lifted it. The Widow turned her back on them, and walked away, silent, head down, the small child trailing along behind her. The Escort followed her into the crowd, which made way for them, without pause in the beat.
   Until the coals had gone dark, long after the Widow and Escort had departed, the rythmic pulse of tempered steel defiance crashed into the starry night sky, following the smoke of a dead friend, who had given all he had in defense of others.
  

An- I intend to expand this part, soon, giving the Widow a larger role. Her life with Mekkun needs more attentive definition.