A Skull Full of Souls

The old, rusted, and spooky portcullis broke from its crumbling frame and fell to the ground with an enormous crash. All but one of the adventuring party groaned and glared at the Orc Paladin still holding his great hammer. He glanced around at their angry faces and shrugged his armored shoulders. “What?”

A beautiful elven woman sporting raspberry red hair that was braided intricately with flowers, thorns, feathers, and other gifts from the wilds snarled at the large orc. “Really Orgthar? Really? We just finished reminding you for the tenth moss-gnarled time! This is the most dangerous quest we’ve ever done. We said stealth and tactics were of paramount importance before going in AND YOU SMASH DOWN THE FIRST GATE WE FIND!” Her voice started relatively quiet but by the end, she was shrieking.

Orgthar scowled, giant tusks making his visage a terrifying sight on his 8-foot-tall, muscular frame. “You mushed be kidding me. Willow, you’re being every bit ash loud and did you sherioushly exshpect me to act like a coward? Burkash would shooner shtrike every member of thish party dead before he’d allow hish choshen to shneak around like shome short of cowardly human rogue—Uhh, no offenshe Randy,” He hurriedly backpedaled as the leather-clad human seemed to slide casually out of his line of sight. “You have of courshe proven your mettle and don’t need to go back to ‘forgetting’ to disharm trapsh before I passh.” The orc sweated, nervously hoping he didn’t get stabbed with another dose of that nonlethal poison that Randy claimed he’d prepared just for him. He shuddered a little, remembering the screams, and the grunting.

The second-to-last party member made a curt gesture at the final one. Communicating with the small gnome the need for attention. The gnome nodded, somehow not disturbing the ornate wizard’s hat that is almost as large as the gnome himself. He twiddled his fingers in an arcane gesture and finished by placing his finger to his lips and saying “Shhhhhhhhhhhhh.” Simultaneously with the final gesture, both Willow and Orgthar jumped as their ears were filled with an insistent shushing noise. They turned to glare at him and he pointed quietly at the last figure.

A lock of white hair is the only thing visible inside her hood as she bent down and let her adder pet slither up her arm. “Fangis Khan says that the enemy has mobilized and many undead march on our position. We should decide on a course of action soon.”

Orgthar raised an eyebrow. “Ishn’t our next shtep obvioush?”

Willow snorted and put her face in her hands “Here we go.”

The orc grinned, took a deep breath, and bellowed. “CHAAAARGE.”

The gnome wizard groaned and tossed a coin purse into the air. From behind him a hand snapped out and caught the money. Then the party began racing to catch up to the reckless orc.

Inside his study, Andy watched the intruders. Andendor was very proud of his gargoyle observers. They truly had been a stroke of genius. He had planted divination orbs into his tiny statues, then slaved the spells onto a crystal pane. He rubbed his desiccated hands together while he tried to decide how best to harvest this group for parts. He had hope that he would be able to gather the soul of that mage. There were a few experiments that could seriously reduce the effort it took to raise a magical minion. That big Orc would make an imposing general. Though the lisp was a bit off. The sneaky human and the white-haired…elf of some kind he suspected, were nothing special for his needs. While he had a few experienced stealth types and beast masters in his citadel. They were of less use than the others for a stay-at-home necromancer like himself. Stealth was for exploring, and ambushes he supposed. Rangers made decent guards but again, he had gargoyles for that. Plus, not much need for nature affinity when everything is dead. But that last one. The elven druidess was perfect.

Druids and other instinctual casters like sorcerers worked magic in raw unrefined forms. It cost them in terms of pure control and versatility in comparison to other magic users, but in exchange, it tempered their bodies, nourishing their mundane form, and created a more powerful and universal template for creating a spellcaster. The best part was that the result wouldn’t even have to be a druid. The raw magic stored served as a universal plasma and became fuel for whatever spellcaster you created.

Andendor’s smile was so wide it pulled his skin tight and made him look even more horrifying. “I love playing defense.” He mumbled and set his sights on the new ‘recruits’ who’d volunteered to join him. Well, they thought that they were brave adventures, here to end his life. But he knew the truth. They were flies, and he was a spider.

Randy was scouting. They’d finally managed to slow Orgthar down. Granted, they’d done it by letting him get into a fight. Which was a little dangerous. He wasn’t too worried. His buddy Mag had reached out mentally and told him to scout ahead. So, he’d let them handle the moaning masses of undead. He suppressed a snort. Even years later, he loved how much the gnome hated his nickname. But really, Randy would never ever even try to pronounce ‘Magnificeno Arbuckle Tidswallow-Brandypuff Of the Fishwasher Carpenters clan, Evergrove Candyfloss Candle branch.’ Seriously, gnomes and their names. Randy shook his head clearing it of that ridiculous old argument. Mag was a genius and he had to take every second he had to keep his idiot friends from getting killed. Plus, he knew he could reach out if he really needed backup. He patted his pocket where Willow’s Mouse hid. Mr. Mouse could send emotions and impressions to Willow in emergencies.

He snuck past a hidden ambush point. Marking it with chalk to warn his group. Then he disarmed a few traps. Most were jokes and seemed pretty trashy, but every once in a while he found a nasty magic one. He could tell at a glance that any attempt to disarm them would be disastrous. So instead he trickled some magically sensitive dust near the trap and carefully marked the edges of its trigger. Knowing his team, he actually outlined an entire foot of forgiveness outside the trigger area because he just knew one of those idiots would try to step close to, but not on, the trap, and then trip or commit some other flailure.

Finally, he came across a trap that stalled him outright. It was an empty room. Completely empty. Yet, his instincts screamed that this room wasn’t safe. It practically glowed with danger to his skills. He pulled out an enchanted lens and nothing. No magic. The stone was real. Not a single rune or sigil. He’d seen a few scrying points and guessed that the undead lord watched as people invaded his home. But they were only for watching they had no other function. He poked a few floor stones in the floor with his rapier and winced as the tip broke a little. With a silent snarl, he grabbed a loose brick and threw it in, and nothing happened. Finally, out of ideas he took a tentative step inside and wedged the door so it couldn’t shut. Then, he slowly began circling the room. As Randy reached the halfway point. In another room, Andendor picked up a glowing stone and spoke a command. “Drop it” Randy swore that he’d heard a muffled voice from above. His eyes snapped up, and he saw that the walls never touched the ceiling. “Balls!” He swore. Already on alert, he dove away from his position, attempting to roll back out of the room. He hadn’t moved 5 feet before the entire ceiling dropped down. Crushing the man before he could even feel it.

Andendor smiled and spoke again into the stone “Lift and hold.” His smile sharpened into a grin as he watched twenty zombies pulling laboriously on chains. Raising the roof back into place. Zombies don’t get tired. They don’t get fatigued. They don’t get bored. Each one can hold around 180 kilograms until Hell freezes over.

“Rotten trees and Ragamuffins!” Mag swore as his magical connection to Randy broke. Normally, his telepathy skills could only send information. He wasn’t quite powerful enough for unilateral mental communications with people outside of his sightlines. But right before the connection broke it sent an emotion. A feeling of abject terror and a certainty of despair. The emotions were so strong that his concentration broke and the spell he was casting backfired. The enormous storm cloud he’d been about to summon, appeared inside his skull. It was a pity, Mag had always been so proud of his aptitude for holding several spells at once. But his talent became his folly as his concentration failed and the 60-foot wide storm formed, took little notice of the too-small container, and exploded out onto Mag’s allies.

The team’s ranger, Aliah had been getting a bad feeling about this fight. Every second, more undead appeared in every direction. Her pet Khan seemed useless against these creatures. Normally, her special set of Snakebite gear could allow her to imbue her bow and swords with her adder’s venom, but these unliving foes didn’t even seem to notice the poison from her attacks. Suddenly, Fangis hissed and struck out. Launching himself from her arm and onto a humanoid covered in wriggling worms. The worms struck back and immediately began burrowing into the snake. “KHAN!” She screamed diving toward the wriggling monstrosity and hacking into it. At least, that was her plan. At that moment, Mag, the wizard swore, and his head exploded. The gory shockwave sent her stumbling face-first into the same monstrosity that was burrowing into her snake. Pain wracked her body and Aliah screamed. She was blind, the agony of her face made her retreat from reality the only thought to run from the pain. She stumbled away, flailing directly into the monstrous horde. As lightning bolts struck everything around. Her muscles spasmed and she lost control of her limbs.

Willow was frozen in horror. Her companions were dead. In three seconds she’d lost Mag and Aliah, and she feared she knew what had caused Mag’s terrible mishap. Mr. Mouse had only flashed her a moment of terror, but the silence was telling. Tears fell down her face as she held an elemental shield against the storm raging around them. They shouldn’t have come. “Orgthar.” She whispered. “We have to go.” She stared at Mag’s headless remains as Orgthar still laughed and swung his hammer. The animate dead and the monsters shuffled forward, occasionally twitching from the lightning. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t look away from the monsters savaging Aliah’s limp form.

A zombie had managed to get inside Orgthar’s reach and bite him. It wasn’t very painful, but it enraged him. He found the pure divine will his god had infused inside him and pulled it into his lungs. Releasing the energy in a primal bellow of defiance and outrage. The cry erupted from him, blasting all near him with divine retribution. It flowed past his companion as if she was intangible. But for the undead, it was far less kind. Those closest to him dissolved into ash. Others were blown back and most didn’t rise. The earth rumbled in the aftermath but he paid it no mind. Only a couple of undead had remained in place. Each had anchored themselves by gripping Aliah’s body. Orgthar howled in horror at the sight of her. He’d been too focused on holding the line and hadn’t noticed the state of his companions. He charged the two, the divine energy was spent, but his arms had never flagged. He struck once, then twice. Each blow pulping one the foul abominations’ heads. It was too late, Aliah’s face was too mangled to look at. Her torso had been pulled off of her hips and—He couldn’t, he turned and made another strangled sound. Mag’s headless corpse was cradled in Willow’s bloody arms. Her beautiful pale skin marred with splotches of vital red. Above them, he saw Willow’s shield react as several more lightning bolts struck the shield.

Willow looked up at Orgthar and started speaking. “I think Randy’s dead too.” Her words were slurred, pushed past her numb lips. “I can’t feel Mr. Mouse anymore and I can’t think of whatever else could have caused Mag’s spell to…” Her throat tightened and she trailed off. She swallowed and resumed. “Orgthar, we have to go.” She forced her gaze up to Orgthar’s and saw him standing there, his hammer fallen from his hands.

“I did thish.” He stared at Mag, speaking quietly.

Willow tilted her head in confusion trying to figure out what he meant. “What?” she asked.

“I got them killed. When I knocked down the gate, it alerted the enemy. You shaid it. I ruined the shtealth approach and they were prepared.” He fell to his knees. “I got my friendsh killed.”

Willow paused and tilted her head. He was right, and yet she didn’t agree. Before the fight, she’d have said just that. But something was tickling in the back of her mind. “No, Orgthar, you didn’t.”

He looked up at her, obviously surprised and confused. “Of courshe I did. Lying won’t make me feel better.”

She held up her hand and tried to put words to her instincts. “You didn’t help us by alerting them and that could have caused this at another time…” she said noticing his flinch. “But this place was beyond us, to begin with.” She continued. “Look up there, do you see those statues?” She pointed, and every 30 feet or so a small gargoyle with painted crystal eyes surveyed the area. There’s magic in every one of them. I think the monster that rules here can see us. I suspect it would have been alerted within seconds of our entry anyway.” She sighed and repeated herself. “We need to leave.”

Orgthar resisted the urge to look for Randy. He knew that if Willow had lost the mouse Randy was likely dead too. He bent down and scooped up Aliah’s pieces. He even spied and snagged Fangis’ tail. He didn’t know how they would afford it, but they could get Aliah and Mag resurrected. He mumbled a silent prayer for Randy. He hoped he’d gone to a better place. But with the undead here, he doubted it. Guilt thrashed inside his chest and he vowed to return one day and scourge the evil from this place. He walked over and threw Mags into his arms as well. It was heavy carrying the two and awkward. He probably couldn’t do it for more than ten minutes or so. But he wanted to get to safety before stripping their gear and taking only a piece of them. After all, the kind of magic they needed didn’t require much of the remains. But the cost was high enough without leaving their gear behind.

Orgthar turned toward the exit and started his trudging steps. As he passed the ashes and corpses the ground suddenly felt…squishy. Surprised, he looked down, just as the ground collapsed. One hand instinctively dropped his friends and grabbed at a curled root. It supported his weight but the jerking yank as his momentum stalled caused him to drop the bodies he’d held. Fear and shame filled him as he was forced to abandon his friends to save his life.

The rumbling earth caused Willow’s head to whip around just in time to see the ground swallow Orgthar and his macabre cargo. She screamed his name as she dove back to save him. She found him hanging from a withered root. Her soft hands grasped his scarred free wrist and she heaved. Orgthar, covered by his plate armor, weighed well over 400 lbs. He barely bobbed as she pulled. She snarled and let go. “I’ll not lose another friend today!” She said and placed her hands on the edge of the sinkhole. Her will focused on the root Orgthar gripped. Calling on her primal magic she took command of the plants around her and they seized Orgthar and began lifting him from the earth.

Orgthar’s head had just risen above the earth when the world rumbled and the roots tightened. From every tree for miles in every direction a distortion formed in their trunks, the bark twisted into a humanoid face, and in a voice made from the cracking of wood and the rumbling of stone, they screamed in unison. “NO TAKE FROM US! NO HURT! WE EAT!” The roots around Orgthar constricted crushing him and beginning to crumple his armor. The air whooshed from him in a wheezing scream as he watched another root erupt from the ground and wrap around Willow’s head. He watched through a red haze of pain as her beautiful eyes shot open in horror as she was yanked head-first toward the sinkhole. In slow motion, he saw dark power flow, not just through the roots, but into the stone around them. He felt his chest plate give and he bucked as metal and bone crushed into his lungs. The sinkhole slammed closed leaving only Orgthar’s head and the decapitated body of Willow above ground.

Andendor yelped as the building trembled and Vinny screamed. Quickly he cast a simple cantrip and his voice suddenly filled the citadel. His rasping cultured voice sounded as if it were the voice of the land itself. “Peace Vinny, peace my friend. You are safe. Your attackers are vanquished and your heart safe.”

“HURTS, NO STOP! I KILL.”

“Vinny, it’s me, your favorite housemate, Andendor.” His cool rasps continued to soothe Vinny even as he calmly walked toward the heartroot chamber. He pretended to ignore the quivering warning roots that rose from the earth and feinted like striking snakes. Silently, he noted that if he’d still had sweat glands, he’d have been dripping. He desperately hoped that Bob had finished his harvest before Vinny awakened. He swore internally that he hadn’t had time to check Bob’s location.

“ANDY IT HURTS! WHERE IS MY VOICE? IT’S GONE! ONLY PAIN SOUNDS.” Andendor winced, piecing together the words. It looked like the harvest had been completed. At least enough to sever that portion from Vinny.

“I know buddy. Easy now. Remember your agreement with Bob. The blood of a shadow god in exchange for a piece of you?”

With a twitch, the warning roots all leaned away. “We exchanged hurts for yums…” For a moment, it looks like he understood, then they erupted outward, threatening violence again. “NO, SOMEONE TRIED TO TAKE MY BODY! I FELT TUGS. THEY WERE USING MY LIMBS. NO HURT! I EAT!”

Andendor was an exhalation away from summoning a shield. He tried once more. “Easy, Vinny. You’ve already killed them. Some adventurers showed up just after you went to sleep. One of them was a druid and she tried to control the plants in an attempt to save her friend. You killed her instantly.” He stood at the blocked entrance to the chamber where Vinny’s heart lived. Vinny released a wordless rumble of confusion and anxiety. Andendor took an unnecessary, but fortifying breath. “Can I come in buddy? I wish to see if I can help with the pain.”

The mass of plant limbs blocking the door quivered and slid away. As they did, dark energy seemed to pool and flow into the stone around it. The stones melted and flowed, returning to their original shape and repairing the damage left by the vines. Andendor blinked, that was a lot smoother and faster than before. He turned and saw a spotless hallway. No traces of Vinny’s roots—barring some loose dirt—remained on the stone. He turned back, carefully surveying the room. No sign of Bob. Two rows of cracked and overgrown sarcophagi filled the room. Two even rows of ten spaces, each space containing a dwarven corpse with a root growing out and into the center of the room. Nineteen, he corrected himself. The closest sarcophagus was gone, and with it, the branch leading to the main body. Where the main body would branch was now an angry black wound. It doesn’t bleed, but a haze of darkness wafted from the cut. Suddenly, Vinny spoke. “Her voice was Angwen Flavorsmith, first of her line. She was a masterful butcher and chef. We wanted to taste her black-port bear rib recipe with razor wasp honey black truffle sauce.

Andendor instinctively wiped his mouth in an attempt to remove imaginary saliva at such an enticing recipe. He hadn't eaten mortal food since becoming undead, and yet, that dish had sounded divine. Then he carefully extended his senses to the wound. He let out a tsk of displeasure and released his voice amplifying cantrip. “Well Vinny, the good news is that I can ease your pain.” He took another instinctive breath and shook his head in irritation. Three years away from his 150th anniversary of becoming a lich and he still couldn’t fully shake the instinct to breathe. “The bad news is that I’m unsure of whether you actually classify as an undead. If you do, then my simple undead regeneration spell should close the wound into a scar. If you don’t, I have a bunch of healing potions that would do the trick.” He shrugs and continues. “If you aren’t undead and I use the undead healing spell your wound will fester and become worse. It will also hurt, a lot. If you are undead and I use the potions your wound will burn and cauterize. Increasing the severity of the wound and causing permanent nerve damage.”

Vinny whimpered, sounding more exhausted than Andendor had ever heard before. “Please no more hurt.”

“Shhh, I know Vinny. Here’s my idea. Let’s take this healing potion here and place a drop on another less important root. A part that you don’t mind losing if we get it wrong. If it burns the root, we cast the spell to heal the wound. If it feels nice we’ll put the rest on your scar. Is that alright? Can you risk a little sting?”

A single, weedy root rose from the ground. Andendor carefully tilted the green potion over it. A single viridian drop dripped down onto the root and immediately flared and sizzled. Vinny whimpered and released a wordless cry.

“Shhh, shhh, it’s okay bud. Here this will help.” He corked the potion and strode to the wounded heart. He raised a hand, now glowing with a wan, desaturating brown light, and placed it next to the quivering incision. Necromantic power flowed into Vinny and the wisps of darkness ceased as rough bark scabbed over the hole. Vinny’s trunk relaxed and the whole room groaned in relief.

“It hurts less, but it still hurts.”

The lich nodded. “Sorry to say this, but it may never fully recover. You lost a part of your core. No one ever feels quite right after losing a bit of themselves. Sometimes, they swear they can still feel it. They say that their limb itches even though it’s completely gone. You paid a heavy price for your power. It should be easier to handle with time. Eventually, you’ll largely forget what it was like before. The discomfort becomes its own kind of comfort.” He patted the trunk. “I’m sorry, but I must check on a few things. I’ll come back down in a few hours and bring some snacks. In the meantime, can you recover what’s left of the adventurers you crushed? You can put them in the usual lab.”

“Ok.”

“Right, well then, no rest for the wicked.” Andendor walked back to his office and pulled up the image for the stables. Bob sat relaxed on his wagon. He calmly sipped tea from a cup. A second or two later he looked up, straight into the gargoyle’s eyes, and waved. Then he motioned for Andendor to join him.

A few moments later they sat at a table next to the wagon. Bob broke the silence. “How’s Vinny? I didn’t have time to sew him back up before the adventurers got too close.”

The lich chuckled dryly. “Damn right you didn’t have time, if you’d hung around much longer you’d have been attacked by a very freaked-out Vinny.”

Bob blanched at the words. “But, your spell. How did the curse break?”

“There are a few limitations to that particular spell. You can stab someone under it and they’ll die without so much as a twitch. But you try to subvert the will or try to take magical control of the body and the spell shatters. It’s a strange and interesting weakness.” Andendor chuckled. “So this druidess tried to use Vinny’s roots to pull her friend out of a hole and bam, the spell crumbled. Then Vinny crushed them in a second.”

“Well, that…was more risk than I usually ever allow. I’m relieved I wasn’t attacked. I don’t know how I’d have had to respond to that. On the one hand, there are a few exceptions for forgiving the innocent, like a child accosting me with a wooden sword. On the other, Vinny is a sentient and ancient monster. I’m not sure what would have been the result.”

Andendor nodded. “Let’s just take the win and try not to think about it.” He looked towards the front gate and shook his head. “It’s such a pity none of the adventurers died intact. I had such high hopes for several of them. Especially that druid. Vinny crushed her skull like an ant. The big orc’s body was crushed too, so no powerhouse general either.” He tilted his head to the side. “I can’t put the orc skull on the elf's body, can I? No, that would be ridiculous! The head would look like someone hit it with an enlarge spell. I can just see that body stumbling around while the head wobbles back and forth on a neck not designed to support it.”

Bob carefully maintained his poker face and did not reveal his thoughts. “Mh-hm.”

Andendor waved the whole thing away. “Bah, I’ve no time for such thoughts. I think you should just head out. I think Vinny is suffering a little buyer’s remorse at the moment. I expect he’ll be accepting enough as the benefits are discovered and the pain fades. But, for now, I don’t think he’ll be very understanding. It hurt him, a lot. Goodbye, Bob. See you soon.” Andendor walked, deep in brooding thought. The rattle of a cart signaled Bob’s departure and soon the lich stood over the materials he’d salvaged for his new project. Suddenly, as the calmness returned to his world and the ritual of planning a new project began. He had the parts, and Bob had delivered better materials than he could have hoped. A thought intruded his mind and his eyes jerked up. “Vinny, did you manage to speak in a complete sentence back there?”