31 – The Fate of the Dead and the Living

  “It’s not fair!” Elanil exclaimed as the quest card vanished. “Nobody even asked us and we didn’t agree to anything.”

  “Quests have a tendency to appear on your list on their own,” Gaspard noted.

  “He’s right, remember the first three constructs we met back in the Sylvan Reserve?” Nura added. “We just stumbled upon them and immediately got the quest.”

  “It can be even dumber,” Gaspard perked up. “Don’t remember whether I told you or not, but I was exploring a cave once and came across a locked chest there. And as I picked up one little sphere from it, suddenly—”

  “A loud female voice in your head started yelling at you?” Nura interrupted him. “And telling you must obey her will, bringing it somewhere, doing something?”

  “Right! How do you know?!” Gaspard gasped in surprise.

  “My grandpa told me this story. When he was young, they went on one of their tomb raids, and one of his friends picked up some kind of thing, and a woman started yelling at him in his head.”

  “What did he do?”

  “Nothing. Because it wasn’t worth even 1 bronze, he tried to throw it away several times, but it didn’t disappear from his inventory. So, he simply forgot about that thing. And one fine day he just didn’t find it. The quest disappeared on its own.”

  “Huh, I guess I have no choice but to do the same,” Gaspard chuckled.

  “I thought my grandfather made it up—turns out it was true.”

  “Why not try to complete this quest?” Elanil suggested.

  “If you so desire, then carry it out yourself,” Gaspard grumbled. “I’m not at all tempted to drag myself throughout the whole world to carry out the orders of some madam in my head. The last thing I need is for her to start talking to me again if I decide to proceed with it. So, my choice is do nothing.”

  As soon as he fell silent, a quest update appeared. As if it was actually eavesdropping on their conversation.

  Quest: Future of Biwa

  Status: Updated

  Objective: Option 1: Do nothing and continue your journey.

  Additional Information: The least labor-intensive solution is to let things take their course.

  Reward:

  + 100 XP

  “Well, this isn’t that quest, but I’ll probably vote for this option here too,” Gaspard smirked. “I mean, we’ve already done a great favor for this village. They should be indebted to us to the grave. No pun intended.”

  “Let’s first do what the main quest card said, gather information and talk to the locals. And then draw conclusions,” Elanil suggested, standing up from her bed. “Who’s with me?”

  “I’ll pass,” Nura lay back down on her bed. “Besides, you know that I’m not the best choice when it comes to communicating with people and getting information. Better pick our Mr. Charming.”

  “I knew you secretly adored me.” Gaspard stood up and bowed gallantly to her. “I’m in.”

  “Let’s go then,” Elanil nodded, hiding her disappointment with him. Being alone with Gaspard wasn’t exactly appealing to her right now.

  Once Elanil left the house, she involuntarily squinted—that was how bright it was outside. Especially after the semidarkness of their room. It was also noticeably warmer than inside. The air was humid, almost thick, filled with the scents of oysters from the canals and daisies, so popular as lawn flowers in Biwa.

  “Well, where shall we begin?” Elanil asked, maybe in a bit too deliberately cheerful and casual manner.

  “We can first visit the cemetery and see if the locals have cleaned up the mess we’d made there,” Gaspard suggested. “Listen, Elanil, I wanted to—”

  “Gaspard, Elanil, howdy do!” a child’s voice rang out from behind them. They immediately turned around and saw their quest giver from the day before.

  “Hey, Emily! How’s it going?” Gaspard’s face lit up as he dropped to one knee to level with the girl.

  “I’m fine, thank you! How’re you? Where’s Nura?”

  “She’s taking a nap. Are you sure, you’re fine? There was a bit of… a commotion this morning.”

  “Gaspard, if you mean zombies, I wasn’t scared at all,” Emily noticed. “Because you were here. We have nothing to fear, right?”

  Elanil could swear that Gaspard was a little embarrassed by her words.

  “Of course, you’re right,” he hastened to assure her.

  “Awesome! Oh, Gaspard, can I introduce you to my friends?” Emily grabbed him by the sleeve. “They’d love to see you too. They’re only shy a bit.”

  Gaspard looked at Elanil uncertainly, as if seeking her help.

  “I won’t disturb you, guys.” Elanil patted him on the shoulder and smiled at the girl. “By the way, Emily, do you know where your elders are?”

  “By the old barns.” Emily waved her hand towards the village edge where the cemetery was. “They’re doing something with the corpses there. We were told not to go there.”

  “And they’re right,” Elanil agreed. “This is not for little girls.”

  “Hey, I’m not little!” Emily pouted amusingly. “And I’m not afraid of zombies at all. I’ll grow up soon and become a Hero like you too.”

  “Of course, sweetheart.” Elanil ruffled the girl’s curly hair. “Well, it was nice talking to you, Emily, see ya!” Waving goodbye, she headed towards the old barns. She didn’t even turn around to watch as Emily dragged Gaspard off to meet her friends.

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  As she walked, she chuckled at how successfully she’d gotten rid of Gaspard. And at how funny the word “zombie” sounded when coming from Emily’s mouth. Probably because such words shouldn’t even be in a child’s vocabulary. Emily was blessed with ignorance about what a threat Elanil, Nura, and Gaspard had averted from their village. But had they? Was it once and for all, and the fissure between the worlds would no longer appear here? Or was it the opposite— once you went undead, you never came back?

  Lost in these thoughts, Elanil didn’t even notice how she had already reached the edge of the village. She was in a familiar meadow, the site of the morning battle. Strangely, in the fog everything had seemed much larger, and even ominous. Now, in the sunlight, nothing hinted at what shit had happened here. Just trampled meadow grass, disturbed turf in places, exposed soil.

  To the left, the road led to a cemetery, from which came the sounds of shovels and falling clods of earth. They were probably tidying up the grave pits to rebury the dead, Elanil thought. To the right was a group of large buildings. Their high walls were painted red. Or rather, they had been red a long time ago. The paint faded over the years from the sun and rain. These were probably the old barns Emily had talked about. The sounds of work and conversations could be heard from there. Elanil headed towards them.

  Inside, she found a large crowd. Probably the entire adult population of the village. Well, almost entire; someone had to keep an eye on the children, she thought. Rows of wooden pallets were everywhere, stacked on top of each other. On those rows, sheets were unrolled, with bones laid upon them. In one corner, also in rows, lay the ancestors who weren’t yet skeletons, covered with shrouds. The ones she, Nura, and Gaspard had so mercilessly and joyfully hacked apart that morning.

  People milled about, and the atmosphere was busy. And foetid because of decomposing bodies. Not overwhelmingly so—the barns had no doors, so a breeze periodically blew the air, preventing it from stagnating. But both outside and inside, it was quite warm, and this, of course, contributed to the lingering stench.

  People didn’t immediately notice Elanil’s arrival. One of the women almost bumped into her as she hurried along, writing something down on a small tablet. Looking up, she flinched, seeing the elven archer just inches in front of her. Without a word, the woman bowed and hurried on about her business. Among the people, Elanil’s gaze found Velesaar, the village elder. A dignified older man, he stood out among his fellow villagers. Whether it was his bearing, his posture, or his outward calm, Elanil couldn’t tell, but something about him immediately spoke volumes: he was in charge here. And he wielded great authority.

  Seeing him, Elanil waved to the man and moved in his direction. He waved back and, grabbing the elbow of a man running past, said something to him. The man nodded and accepted the stack of papers, which Velesaar had been periodically consulting, glancing around. Elanil guessed she’d found the villagers frantically identifying and cataloging the dead so they could later rebury their ancestors with dignity and honor. It was good that the magic of the amulets at least brought the limbs together, so all they had to do was to find out whose head belonged to whom.

  “How may I be of service?” Velesaar bowed, approaching Elanil. “I apologize for not showing you the attention and respect you so deserve.” He glanced around the barn. “As you can see, we’re a bit busy.”

  “Don’t worry,” Elanil hastened to assure him. “I’m sorry that your village faced such a horror.”

  “It can’t be helped, since it was destined to be so,” Velesaar shrugged. “But fate sent you to us too. I dread to think what would’ve become of us if you hadn’t been around. But now, thank heavens, it’s all over, and we can live peacefully again. Once our ancestors are consigned to the earth, of course.”

  “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about,” Elanil began quietly. “You see, we can’t be completely sure that this won’t happen again. I mean, the magic we’ve managed to stop so far. I don’t know if it was just a coincidence, or if the area above your cemetery is predisposed to it.”

  “I don’t quite understand what you’re getting at.”

  “The power that raised your ancestors from their graves. It might still be here. Well, on the other side, in the otherworld. You know what I mean? Perhaps we haven’t driven it away completely, but simply made it difficult for it to enter our world for a while.”

  “Are you saying that one terrible morning all this could repeat?” the elder whispered. Nodding toward the barn entrance, he suggested they continue the conversation privately.

  As soon as they emerged into the sunlight, Elanil clearly felt how fresher the air felt outside.

  “Listen, Elanil, what you’re saying is very disturbing.” Even here, Velesaar was whispering, probably shocked by the revelation. “Are you certain this could happen?”

  “No, I’m not at all certain.” She shook her head. “I don’t have enough information to know for sure. I’m just weighing all the possibilities. Maybe I’m being overly suspicious.”

  “If you’re an Adventurer or a Hero and deal with danger on a daily basis, not oysters like we do, then it’s understandable,” Velesaar agreed.

  “I just hate to think that when we leave the village, we’ll leave you defenseless. As if I’ve failed you.”

  “Elanil! What are you saying? You saved us. Twice! Yesterday, you pacified that nasty forest spirit—what if it had come to the village? And today, you saved us all from certain death.”

  “Yes, but I’d like to be one hundred percent sure...”

  “Elanil, listen to the old man,” Velesaar smiled. “Life is such a thing that the more you plan, the more fate messes with our desires. You can never be one hundred percent sure of anything.”

  “But—”

  “We can burn your ancestors on a great funeral pyre,” came from behind. Elanil turned around. Nura was approaching them with a brisk step. “Tired of lying around alone, so I decided to look for you,” she smiled at Elanil.

  “I beg your pardon,” Velesaar widened his eyes. “I deeply apologize for my rudeness, but burning the dead is not at all customary in our lands,” he began delicately. “It’s complete—”

  “Sacrilege. I know,” Nura grinned. “But it’s the most effective solution to the problem. No corpse, no one can possess it.”

  “I understand your logic. But still,” Velesaar averted his eyes, looking like a person who was utterly outraged by the very idea being considered, let alone implemented. But at the same time, he was too polite, and both respected and feared Nura to tell her directly how blasphemous her words sounded.

  “Either we burn your great-grandparents now, and you’ll hate us,” Nura replied, looking him straight in the eyes. “Or when they crawl out of their graves again, you’ll burn them anyway and hate yourselves.”

  Velesaar stunned for a moment, unable to utter a word.

  “Let’s just leave this option as a last resort for now,” Elanil suggested. The notification was quick to respond to her words.

  Quest: Future of Biwa

  Status: Updated

  Objective: Option 2: Set a large funeral pyre to burn all deceased Biwa inhabitants.

  Additional Information: A very reliable method in terms of preventing the dead from rising from their graves again. But very controversial given the morals of their living descendants. It carries the risk of significant reputational damage.

  Reward:

  + 400 XP

  - 1000 The Valley of Ringing Springs reputation

  “Minus a thousand reputation for burned corpses?! Earned with sweat and blood!” Nura was seething with indignation. “Are you kidding me? Did I chase squirrels, pose for old man Jenkins, and plow the garden for nothing?”

  “Easy, easy!” Elanil hastened to calm her down, glancing briefly at how frightened Velesaar was by the orc’s outburst of anger. Perhaps he imagined Nura was about to burn down the barn with all the inhabitants of Biwa, living and dead. He didn’t know her cheerful and harmless nature, but only saw a furious warrior from the Steppe. “Oh, these stereotypes,” Elanil sighed mentally.

  “By the way, where’s our Mister I-know-everything-about-everything when we need him so much? He could’ve given us a couple of ideas,” Nura grumbled and immediately chuckled at the thought. “Although who am I kidding? He already voiced his only solution: do nothing.” She mocked Gaspard’s intonations. “But why not ask him one more time? Where is he?”

  “I left him with Emily, she wanted to introduce him to her friends.”

  “What?! You left an Assassin alone with the children?” Nura feigned indignation. Rather unconvincing, Elanil noted. But she immediately took it back—

  “Assassin?” Velesaar whispered, frightened.