Here's today's chapter! Thanks for your patience. :)

I know some of you like undead or at least find them interesting. Keep in mind that just because one particular faction of undead might be hostile, doesn't mean all undead are without reason; there might be some that are willing to work with the living. Anyway, love to hear your thoughts after today's chapter.

-Plum

27 – The Gray Prince’s Emissary

At the sound of the voice, Andy glanced at Omar, and the Paladin’s shield began to glow. He shook his head, muttering, “I don’t like this.”

Andy leveled his spear at the door, nodding. Then he called out, “Who am I speaking to?”

The raspy voice sounded again, along with something hard scraping against the wooden door. “I am Venet Cole, emissary of the Gray Prince. Your movements were marked, your strength recognized; the Prince requests your presence in his hall.” The door’s latch rattled, but gently; someone was playfully twisting the knob back and forth. Andy could hear the muttering, grumbling, hissing, and shuffling of many, many creatures on the other side of the door.

“I don’t like it,” Omar repeated.

“Just be ready,” Andy hissed. Then, releasing his spear with his left hand, he lunged forward, unlatched the door, and quickly stepped back. As the door opened, slowly swinging wide to reveal the larger space outside the office, Andy felt his heart quicken and his breaths grow shallow. There were easily a hundred…beings out there.

Some of them looked human, or at least formerly human, but many were subtly different. Some were too tall, with limbs that were too thin and lengthy. Some had ears and faces that reminded Andy of bats—their wings didn’t hurt the comparison. A few were furry, though their flesh was just as pale, gray-tinged, and lifeless as the others. Andy didn’t need Omar to hiss, “Undead.” It was evident, even to him.

Standing closest to the door was a creature unlike the others. He wore a pair of blue velvet trousers and a matching coat, the buttons of which glittered like gold in the light of Omar’s shield. Beneath his coat, he was naked, and his ebon flesh gleamed like polished marble. His face seemed similarly chiseled from black stone, but when he smiled, his lips moved like flesh and his brilliant white fangs stood out starkly in the darkness of his mouth.

“Hello again, travelers. Fear not, for the Gray Prince is a forgiving liege; he’ll overlook this trespass, so long as you accompany me and make known your intention to become subjects of the Kingdom.”

Omar, apparently unwilling to play along, growled, “We’re not here to join your kingdom.”

“Oh?” Venet Cole put a hand to his hip and tilted his head, taking on a confused expression. “Why else would you come here?” He held his other hand to his ear, looking past them toward the street where the chaotic howls, screams, and crashes were still echoing off the buildings. “Surely, you understand you’re trespassing.”

An idea struck Andy then; he remembered how Venet Cole had introduced himself, so he cleared his throat and said, “We’re here as emissaries.”

Cole tapped his chin with a pointed black nail. “Oh? Emissaries? You wish to negotiate the surrender of another state?”

“No,” Omar grunted. “We want to discuss how you’re going to leave this world.”

Andy glanced at him sharply, but the Paladin wasn’t looking at him. He was staring at Cole and his entourage, and his eyes were filled with fire. It was at that moment that Andy realized there’d be no bargaining with these undead. Part of him was irritated about it; he wanted to at least hear them out. Of course, he’d seen plenty of movies about vampires and zombies, so he had his prejudices, but he had to wonder if there was more to the undead than that. What if they could live peacefully alongside humanity?

Of course, he had to consider what he’d seen and heard; Andy was at a loss as to how a civilized society could function with neighbors like the creatures clamoring outside the building—or the hungry-looking undead before them. With all of that in mind, Andy let his friendship with Omar override his irritation, and he stood firm, watching to see how Cole would respond.

The undead creature’s dark eyes glowed with a red luster as he looked Omar up and down, and then he sneered and spat. “I thought I smelled her stench! So, Cinerath’s influence has already spread to this world, has it? Fear not, little Torchbearer, I’ll send you home to lick her boots once more!”

“Torchbearer?” Omar asked, lifting his mace high. “I’m a Paladin!” With that, he stomped his foot, and white flames erupted outside the door—a wide ribbon of his Consecrating Flames that engulfed nearly the entire host gathered out there.

As the undead screamed and Cole bloomed with purple flames of his own, Andy drove forward with Scirocco, aiming a deadly fast stab at the emissary’s chest. The blow struck home, but it felt like stabbing an oak tree. Scirocco’s blade dug into the creature’s chest about three inches and Cole stumbled back, hissing and swiping at the weapon, but Andy was already stepping back, using the doorway as a choke point in case the other undead rallied and pushed forward through Omar’s flames.

“Sorry, Andy!” Omar said, stepping forward, shield high. “I couldn’t tolerate that thing!”

Andy glanced at him, watching as Cole backed away from Omar’s flames. The emissary’s eyes were blazing, and he looked furious. Half his entourage was dead—smoldering corpses on the ground. The white flames were spreading, giving way to regular orange fire, and thick smoke was filling the space. “Suit yourselves, fools!” Cole screamed. “We’ll let you burn!” With that, he retreated away from the fire, toward the hallway.

Omar started forward, but Andy grabbed his shoulder. “Come on, man! This is not a smart fight! Listen!”

Omar looked at him, anger in his eyes, but he stopped pushing forward as Andy slammed the door on the fire. “What?”

“Not to me, man! Listen.” It only took a moment for Omar to realize what he was talking about. Rhythmic drumming was echoing up from the street, and the sounds of screams had drawn closer—the undead were surrounding the building. “Even if this fire spreads, it won’t stop them,” Andy said. “They have to have some spellcasters. Besides, the dude wasn’t wrong; if we stay here, we’re going to choke or burn.”

Omar nodded, holding his sleeve to his mouth and nose. “We couldn’t have gone with them, Andy. I promise it was a trap!”

“Yeah, sure. I didn’t get a good vibe from them. We still need to get out of here.” He started toward the windows. “Do you think we’ve got time for me to change classes?”

Omar looked at the ill-fitting door and the orange light bleeding around the edges. “Ten minutes is a long time in a fire.”

Andy had already come to the same conclusion; he’d begun to cast Flight of the Cinder Hawk. As thick smoke billowed out of his pores, cloaking him in its warm embrace, he said, “Clear one of the windows.”

As the magic took effect, changing Andy’s body, Omar threw the bookcase down, revealing the windows. They were big, and one was mostly broken already, but he took his mace and dragged it along the edge, shattering the rest of the glass. “Good?” he asked. Andy nodded, and to him it felt normal, but Omar saw a great, black-and-gray-winged predator bird nodding its beaked head. He chuckled nervously as he turned and peered out into the darkness. “You think you can carry me?”

“Easy,” Andy said, stepping toward the window, his massive talons digging through the faded, filthy carpet and gripping the subfloor beneath. “Kneel before the window. I’ll grab onto your armor’s harness.”

Omar did as he asked, still gripping his shield and mace. Andy stretched his “talon” toward the sturdy straps of his breastplate’s harness, gripping them. It felt just like flexing his fingers, which was strange, because they were, technically, his toes. He moved his other foot to the side, grasping the window ledge. “I wonder if they can see—”

Even as he started to ask the question, a ball of blue fire flew up from the street toward their window. Andy grunted in surprise, leaping away from the building into the air. As he pumped his wings and banked to the left, he grabbed Omar’s harness with his other talon, securing his grip. The fireball streaked through the space he’d just vacated, and he heard a great whoomph as the inside of the office erupted with magical fire.

By then, Andy was a hundred yards away, gliding on his wide wings, and allowing his momentum, gravity, and the wind to carry him rapidly away from the clamoring horde of undead. As he went, he surveyed the streets, mind reeling at the sheer numbers. There had to be thousands of monsters down there, and they all seemed to be aligned with one another—members of the Night Kingdom in one capacity or another.

Some of the undead were clearly volatile and monstrous, while others lurked in windows and doorways, or strolled down the street. Many carried weapons and wore dark clothes—expansive cloaks, wide-brimmed hats. Andy was grateful when only a few looked his way; despite the way the horde outside the building had rapidly converged, it seemed that the Emissary, Venet Cole, couldn’t magically communicate with every undead in the kingdom.

Andy knew his mana was rapidly depleting, and he knew Omar couldn’t feel comfortable hanging from his talons a few hundred feet above the city streets, so he banked generally to the east, swooping his way around the city blocks toward Broadway—a main east-west thoroughfare. He figured he’d get them a few miles away from the center of the undead horde and then they could lie low while he changed his class. He told as much to Omar as they slowly descended.

“We’re leaving?” Omar asked, twisting in the straps of his backpack to peer up toward Andy’s hawk-like face.

“There’s too many, don’t you think? I mean, we did what we came for; we confirmed the damn Night Kingdom is here, and that they’re not looking to make peace.”

“You’ve seen how many there are! If we leave them unchecked, they’ll spread through the city’s ruins. They’ll have tens of thousands—hundreds of thousands—of undead!”

“Hang on,” Andy said, banking to the right, away from the big boulevard toward a side street. He saw a medium-sized bank building and wanted to put down in the alley behind it before he ran out of mana. When he was just ten feet from the ground, he pumped his wings and realized he had no clue how to land while holding Omar. The Paladin squirmed in his grip, and Andy got the picture; he dropped him.

He was just about to touch down a bit further down the alley when his mana ran out and he felt his body grow cold as his Cinder Hawk came apart in a cloud of gray-black smoke. Andy hit the rough pavement with a thud, falling onto his hands and knees. He shivered there, sick and queasy, as his body rebelled at the emptiness of his mana pool.

“Andy? What’s wrong?” Omar’s hand felt hot on his shoulder as the Paladin leaned close.

“Cut it too close. I burned my mana totally dry.”

“Oh? Is that bad?”

Andy looked up at him with watery eyes. “I don’t know, man. I’ve used all my mana before, but it never hit me this hard. Maybe it was because I had the transformation active? Maybe it drained me past zero?” He shuddered as he held out his hand and let Omar pull him to his feet. “I’m feeling a little better.” As he spoke, Andy took a look at his status sheet and saw he had already regained two mana. “It’s coming back. I think I’ll be fine.”

Omar nodded, then turned toward the dark alley mouth. “I’m sure there are undead following us. I find it hard to imagine none of them could fly.”

Andy shrugged. “Maybe we caught them by surprise.” He nodded to the metal alley access door on the back of the building to the right. “I don’t know what that place is, but we could hide in there while I change classes.”

Omar looked at the building, then at the one on the other side of the alley. “That one’s a bank.”

Andy started toward the other building. “This door looks easy.” He grabbed ahold of the metal handle and tugged. The door rattled in its frame, and he felt the latch start to give under the strain. “Grab the edge!”

Omar hurried over and stuck his hands into the gap, gripping the edge of the door. “Three, two, one—”

They both heaved, and the door broke free of its latch with a clang. “Come on,” Andy said, slipping into the dark, mold-scented space that used to be a restaurant kitchen.

Omar started past the stove, pushing a cart out of his way so he could reach the door leading further into the building. “I’ll check it out.”

“No,” Andy said. “Just push that stove in front of the door and stand watch over me, man. Let’s get the hell out of here.” Omar frowned, but nodded. It was easy for the Paladin to shift the rusty metal stove in front of the swinging door. He stood there, watching Andy as he sat down in the dust with his back to the stove. “Nothing’s been in here in a while. Look at the dust,” Andy added.

“Yeah.” Omar folded his arms. “You pissed at me, Andy?”

“I’m just pissed about this whole situation,” Andy said, pulling up his status sheet. “That mess back there—that’s not going to be easy to deal with. It means war, man, and I don’t mean the kind we had with Construction City. This is going to be a big damn mess.” As he said the last word, he selected his class change, and anything Omar said in reply was lost to him. The world narrowed to a pinpoint as black walls closed around him, and then, as they expanded, he found Omar no longer standing where he’d been. Blinking, Andy looked around and found the man leaning against the wall by the alley door, peering through.

As Andy clambered to his feet, summoning his spear from his ring, he asked, “Anything happen?”

“I heard hooting and howling out there, but not close.” He gently pushed the door closed, then turned to look at him. “Ready?”

“Yeah.” Andy inhaled deeply, clearing his head. “Sorry if I was pissy, man. That was not what I was hoping for back there.”

“Well, like you said—now we know.” Omar frowned, shaking his head. “I know it seemed like I made that encounter worse than it had to be, but if we would have followed those guys into whatever stronghold their leader—”

“The Gray Prince,” Andy said.

“Right. If we would have gone into wherever he’s set up his base, I don’t think we would have escaped—not easily. He isn’t going to be a pushover. Even that emissary guy—he didn’t burn in my flames and he didn’t seem hurt by your spear.”

“Yeah. Well…” Andy thought about the list of “factions” the System had shown them. “I mean, at least we didn’t say who we were—it doesn’t seem like the System has declared that we’re at war yet.”

Omar nodded, stepping closer. “Let’s see if we can’t build some more alliances. We’re going to need help.”

“I’m glad you can see that,” Andy replied, holding up his left hand and pouring mana into his Greater Axiom of Passage. “First, let’s get back to the mesa; we need to make sure we start preparing because the Night Kingdom might not want to wait around for us to come knocking.”