Potions and Poisons (2/3)

Although the children had no eyes, they were watching him. Auberon felt his breaths fall quiet, as the children of the undead army followed his every move. They seemed identical; the same porcelain white skulls and hundreds of sharp pieces of bone, all woven together in shadows. The eyes were hollow, and darkness poured into their empty sockets, spilling over jagged skulls. 

"Hurry up," The voice above Auberon hissed, fingers digging into his wrists. He obeyed, but only to escape the skeletal congregation closing in around him. At the end of the aisle was the great tent of the camp, a bright crimson fabric with two giant skeleton hand sigils on either side of the entrance. Auberon was yanked inside and his hand released, blood rushing to where the nails had burrowed into his skin. 

The tent glowed orange as fires burned from all corners, illuminating the three figures who stood at a large table. They all looked up when Auberon entered.

"Gentlemen, you may leave," The largest man told his cohorts, "I will see you next year." When the others had left, the great man sat at the end of the table.

"My lady," The man greeted, "to what do I owe the pleasure of your company today?"

The woman stood beside Auberon dropped to her knees, shoving Auberon down with her. 

"My Emperor," She bowed, "There is talk in the two kingdoms that you are taking in recruits for your army..."

The Emperor watched her for a while, and it seemed as though a smile flickered briefly over his face. "Why, lady Lancelyn, do you have a dying child to offer me?"

"I have better," The woman took Auberon and squeezed him by the shoulders. "This boy will serve well, he is strong and has never broken a bone in his life- he has Lancelyn bones inside of him, and I'm sure you know the reputation our family has..."

The Emperor was sitting forwards in his chair, shadows accentuating the hollows under his eyes and curves of the broad muscles swelling from his arms and legs. His eyes burned, yet it was impossible to tell which emotions fuelled the flames within.

"...And you wish to be paid in compensation?" The Emperor concluded.

"Only if my Emperor feels it fit..." The woman bowed. Auberon could almost feel her smile behind him, and he tried to squirm away from her iron grip.

"Are you aware of what will happen to the child when you leave this tent?" The Emperor asked, and when the woman nodded, he stood. "In which case, I will accept your offer, and you will accept my terms. Firstly, you will be paid no more than two coppers for the service you have done today. Secondly, you will never return to the border, and if I see you again, I will personally remove your bones and let my army use them to forge weapons."

The woman narrowed her eyes and nodded. "I understand," She murmured, bowing once more, before leaving the tent. Her grip was gone forever.

Auberon felt his heart thrum in his chest under the eyes of the Emperor. "Am I- Am I going to become one of them?" Auberon stammered, glancing outside. 

The Emperor laughed heartily, flashing a set of perfect, white teeth. Auberon wondered what those teeth would look like on the face of a skeleton.

"Your name is Auberon, is it not? Tell me, young Auberon, can you wield a sword?"

Auberon did not manage a reply before the Emperor stood before him, kneeling down and gently folding something into his right hand. A sword. The grip was white and cut with black ridges, like bone, and the blade had been crafted from a shimmering silver substance. It was only small, but Auberon's fingers fit perfectly into the handle ridges, like pieces to a jigsaw.

"My father used to teach me a little," Auberon finally replied, turning the sword from one angle to another to familiarise himself with its feel.

"Good. Then you will use it from now until the day you die," The Emperor declared, standing tall as a giant, "and you will protect the kingdoms by my side."

"Until the day I die..." Auberon echoed.

"Kneel, my child, I am giving you your title."

Auberon kneeled. "Auberon Lancelyn, I am now proclaiming you as my squire, as the delegate of the living to the army of the undead. Do you swear your sword to me now and every day to follow?"

"I do," Auberon announced. The end of the aisle had promised more than an army of undead. It promised rebirth.

***************************

"Hey, stop! Over here!" Auberon called, as Mortilsa and Greytongue gathered around the hole in the ground. 

"A stairway," Mortilsa noted, "Do you know where it leads to?"

"There should be a river at the bottom of the stairwell, and hopefully a boat that can take us to the border. Once we're there, we have the protection of the army and we can find you a new home."

"And will we be safe down there?" Mortilsa stared into the darkness of the hole. It could protect them from creatures from the outside, but whatever was inside the hole...

"I think so," Auberon nodded, "We've taken this route once or twice before."

Auberon led the way down the stairs, into a dark cavern with little headroom. They continued a descent into the darkness, where the air was cold, as though death hung in the air. Mortilsa held the cavern walls for support as she took each step down. The walls appeared slimy, glistening wet, yet felt smooth and cold to the touch, like slippery marble.

At the very end of the staircase, the final step dropped into a river of blackened water, orange flames reflecting off the surface where torches lit the path ahead. As promised, a small rowing boat was waiting in the water, although each half of the boat seemed to scrape against the cavern edges. Auberon sat at the back of the boat, with Mortilsa at the opposite end, and he began to push forwards with an oar.

"What's your name, girl?" Greytongue managed, wheezing.

"Mortilsa," She answered, dipping her finger in the icy water of the river.

"Well, Mortilsa, have you been taught any alchemy before?" Auberon asked, "We'll be in desperate need for your help, once we reach the border. There are so few who know how to brew basic potions, and even fewer who can create youth elixirs."

"Not much," Mortilsa admitted, "Agatha thought of me as her apprentice, and I spent most of the time talking to customers."

Greytongue had begun to sag where he sat, eyes half-closed. His skin was riddled with wrinkles, and had turned an ashen shade of grey. His fingers had grown skinny and limbs thin, so that bone jutted out at irregular angles. 

"Is he... dying?" Mortilsa breathed.

"Five years he's done this," Auberon murmured back, "He suddenly shrivels into the man before you, it can happen in a matter of hours, and every time we've been able to restore him. We just can't afford for him to die."

"Then he's lucky to have you, being alive, wouldn't that would make you... his heir?"

"No, no," Auberon shook his head, "That's not how the titles work. It's an army of undead, so the rules can't be dictated by the living. It's all about strength- whoever kills the Emperor becomes the next heir, and if he dies of natural causes... the dead will choose a new warrior to become their Emperor. I swore to protect this man, and I will as long as I live."

A long silence lingered in the air, as Auberon glanced behind him uncertainly. Mortilsa wondered whether she would be able to devote herself to another being; her parents had devoted their lives to each other and died that way, Agatha had devoted herself to potions... yet what had they all come to? She could not let the same happen to the Emperor and Sir Auberon.

"And yourself?" Auberon finally asked, "heir to any home, some family we can get you back to?"

"Agatha was the only living family I had. Now that she's gone, I'll return to the Kingdom of Light, where my parents lived, find some purpose... who knows, maybe I'll end up serving the army of the living..."

Auberon grinned, "I'd recommend it for adventure if nothing else. But we have the better food."

"Since when did skeletons cook better than the living?"

"Skeleton kids don't get hungry like living adults do- it's a feast every night for the Emperor and his living followers... lamb and beef and dragonskin, orange cakes and sweetlime... sweetlime! Have you ever tried sweetlime before?"

"I've had none of those things," Mortlisa smiled, her stomach softly purring at the thought of food.

"Well, sweetlime is the greatest of them all- it's like a syrup of strawberry and lemon that suddenly fizzes inside your mouth, and the aftertaste... they say the best kisses come after drinking sweetlime."

"You'll have no one to kiss if you serve an army of dead," Mortilsa returned.

"You'd be surprised," He chuckled, "I've met a girl or two on my travels. I've even taken one out on a boat before..."

Greytongue stirred where he sat, drifting in and out of sleep. Mortilsa helped lie him down over the boat, as his chest moved up and down in small waves.

Suddenly, the boat stopped moving. Mortilsa looked up to Auberon, who held his oar out of the water and looked ahead in alarm.

"I think there's something... someone... ahead," He whispered, "can you take this?"

Mortilsa took the oar from him as Auberon began to push the boat slowly forwards using the cavern walls, his free hand silently wrapping around the handle of his sword. The cavern began to open up slightly, and giant square holes began to appear on either sides of the walls, where statues once resided.

There was no sound other than the drip, drip, dripping of water, and the occasional creak as the boat swayed to one side.

Abruptly, the boat stopped, and Mortilsa turned back to see a deathly white hand holding the boat in place. In one of the square holes dug into the cavern, a creature was sat staring at them. It scratched its nails on the wood of the boat and crept forwards, into the firelight. A woman.

"Hello," She smiled, revealing a set of abnormally sharp front teeth. Her eyes were wide, intense, and the irides stained red. Her skin was ghostly white, other than dirt smeared over her face, and her nails had grown into a collection of uneven claws.

"Let go of the boat," Auberon commanded, his sword unsheathed and the blade turned to protect the Emperor.

"What've ye got 'ere then?" The woman asked, pulling the boat closer to her. "Now 'e doesn't look well, does he?"

"Let go of the boat," Auberon repeated, slightly louder. Mortilsa asked, "What is it you want?"

"What I want, is to talk to y's," the woman smiled wider, her other hand digging into the boat. As soon as she tried to climb in, Auberon snapped his sword at her, the tip of the blade touching her chest. "That won't help," the woman laughed bitterly, flourishing two sharp canines. She moved an inch forwards so the blade pierced her skin. No blood appeared.

"We've talked," Auberon hissed, "Now we're leaving."

The smile left the woman's face. "Not with him you're not," She reached out for the Emperor.

Mortilsa swung her arms around and launched the oar into the woman's face. Crunch. A loud shriek began to fill the cavern and Auberon started shouting, yet his voice was inaudible. Mortilsa jumped from the boat and felt ice shoot over her body, feet barely touching the ground below. Auberon dived into the water after her, Greytongue in his arms. 

They began sprinting through the river, water spraying and splashing and the woman still shrieking, but she had crawled out of her hole and was climbing out of the boat behind them. The cave began to rumble, as from the ceiling behind, hundreds of bats began to swarm into the air. 

Auberon kept yelling commands and turning to slice through black wings. Black water and bats surrounded Mortilsa's view, so she did not see when the man came from out of the water and lunged at her. She felt his fingers claw at her throat, and she pulled her leg from the water to kick the creature in the face. As soon as it fell back, she was running again. 

A hand grabbed hers and began to drag upwards, pulling, as the water suddenly disappeared and she was running up stairs and into forest.

"There's... there... way," Fragments of sentences called out through the squealing and flapping of bats, still dragging her by the hand. Mortilsa could vaguely make out being led towards a large structure, and heard the bang as Auberon kicked open the door, and they entered. Suddenly the bats were gone.

Auberon slammed the door shut and began running around the room to close the curtains of the windows.

"They can't enter unless we invite them in," Auberon explained, catching his breath as he set the Emperor on the ground. There was the sound of screams and scratching and banging outside, fists and claws pummelling at the windows.

"Where are we?" Mortilsa asked, looking around the room. It was more of an atrium, a wide, dome-shaped hall with marble floors and golden walls. A set of grand, white stairs led up to what looked like three floors above them, each with a balcony watching over the entrance hall. Ornate carvings, swirls of white and silver, blossomed along the walls.

"The house? I don't know," Auberon glanced around him, "We were supposed to stay on the boat- the border is still miles away from this place."

Mortilsa hovered to the sides of the hall, where the furniture was displayed. She wandered over to a pedestal, where a candle was floating in midair. Auberon joined at her side, feeling at the air around the candle.

"It's magic," Auberon murmured.

"Welcome," A voice spoke from behind. 

Mortilsa turned, and felt her heart stop.