Vigor Mortis

Chapter 122: The Road Home

I am both confused and frustrated by the sheer number of people that decided to follow me out of the prison. I feel like I was pretty unambiguous with both the fact that I intended to be a complete dictator to anyone that stuck around, and that everyone is welcome to just leave. At the very least I was expecting the former prison staff to take me up on that, as well as most of the prisoners.

Turns out this is not the case. The entire cooking and cleaning staff is following me. I guess now that I think about it, it does make sense for most people to want to stick together when we are this far away from the city. The forest is dangerous, and all that. At least for other people.

I take a deep breath of fresh air, because not even feeling the movement of my disgusting wet flesh sack can put a damper on the smell of freedom.

“Thanks for coming to break me out, you two,” I tell Mateo and Netta.

The three of us are currently patrolling the forest, mainly because the huge group on the road has been getting a little stuffy for me. It’s uncomfortable to suddenly go from living in a cell alone for two years to being constantly feeling the rapt attention of dozens of people. I don’t like it.

“Of course, Vita,” Netta says, nodding what remains of her head at me. It’s mostly skull now, with skin only from the chin down.

“There’sssss no way we’d let you rot there,” Mateo hisses playfully, coiling quickly around me once before darting away.

“We owe you our lives, after all,” Netta agrees.

“That and we love you,” Mateo adds. “We are ssso, ssso happy to have you back.”

Mateo’s body, being mostly chitin, seems to be faring a lot better after two years of undeath. He has a lot more unhealed battle damage, though: holes and cracks, a missing mouth-finger or two.

“I’m kind of surprised Penelope still hasn’t worked out a solution to that whole mind-control thing,” I admit.

Netta and Mateo share a worried glance that I don’t quite understand, but I decide not to press the matter. It’s just nice having Revenants around again. And Dregs, for that matter! I have a fun little collection of zombies around me, and it feels great. Unfortunately I’ve just about scared off everything else in this part of the forest, so it’s time for us to return to herding cats on the road.

“Speaking of Penelope,” Netta says, “I suspect it’ll be difficult to sneak you into the city, but we have a secret spot in the forest that we meet up at pretty regularly. I suspect that’s where she’ll check for you.”

“I guess that works, yeah,” I allow, shrugging. “I was hoping to just sneak back into Skyhope, but there’s no way I can do that with dozens of people following me.”

“It might alsssso be difficult because you have three eyesss and a tentacle,” Mateo points out.

“Four eyes and counting, actually,” I grunt. “There’s one on my thigh, and I think I feel another growing just above my hip.”

“A thigh-eye doesn’t sound very useful,” Netta comments.

“It’s really not.”

“So are you like, always…?”

“It has an eyelid, thankfully,” I reassure her.

“Oh. Good.”

The three of us make it back to the road, where Altrix, Lyn, and Jeremiah are keeping the peace among our captured Templars… though it’s mostly Altrix. Apparently her talent just lets her look at people and make them balloon into a horrible flesh blob, which is just incredibly disgusting. I saw her use it on a bird, and I can’t imagine how freaky it would be on a person. Apparently she can use the exact same talent to heal people, but I don’t know if I’m super keen on letting her try.

“Welcome back, work of art,” whichever Altrix is currently in charge says to me.

“Can you just call me Vita?” I ask her.

“It would be my pleasure, Vita,” she agrees.

“Welcome back, kiddo!” Lyn says, scooping me up in a brief hug.

“…Can you also just call me Vita?”

“Come on, kiddo, I have two whole years of taunting to catch up on.”

“Well, in that case I hope you’ve been taking care of Vitamin, grandma,” I counter.

“Agh, oof! Such a cruel daughter I have! Woe is me!” Lyn whines. “But yeah, actually, she’s been doing really well. She’s with our, uh, benefactor.”

I nod, having assumed as much. Penelope no doubt figured out whatever animancy nonsense is necessary to feed my Revenants, because she’s smart and cool. And since Lyn is being careful not to say her name where anyone can hear, I assume she’s currently in good standing over at Skyhope and hoping to stay that way, which is… interesting.

Also interesting are Jeremiah and Jelisaveta, who are talking with each other. By the way they awkwardly and suddenly stop their conversation as I approach, I assume it was about me.

“Plotting with other animancers already, eh Jelly?” I ask, smirking at her. “We’ll make a heretic out of you yet.”

“That’s not—” Jelisa starts, but then cuts herself off and sighs. “Hello, Vita. I’d prefer if you didn’t make a game out of taunting me on top of everything else. It’s hardly heresy to have a polite conversation with someone who disagrees with what we believe. You should know that.”

“Your coworkers certainly fooled me,” I respond dryly. “You should know that. How are the sleds, Jeremiah?”

“Functional enough,” he answers, nodding politely. “I find myself rather humbled, to be honest. You craft undead as quickly and easily as you breathe, and the articulation of motion is almost lifelike. I don’t know why I bothered making my own.”

A menagerie of undead creatures carry our supplies down the road, which is of course exactly as conspicuous as it sounds. These roads are not very well-traveled, however, and my sensory range drastically outstrips how far anyone here can see. We’ve only encountered one other group of travelers, and it wasn’t difficult to get everyone off the road and hidden before they got close.

“Well, you had to learn all this the hard way,” I reassure him. “I’m just kind of like this.”

“It’s not a bad sort of humbling,” Jeremiah dismisses. “It was silly of me to consider myself skilled. I clearly have a long way to go.”

“And speaking of a long way to go, is it true that our goal is Skyhope?” Jelisa asks.

“No, it isn’t,” I inform her with the confidence of a person who didn’t just decide that a couple minutes ago. “Just somewhere nearby.”

“Hrm,” Jelisa hums. “Have you decided what you’re going to do with the people you captured?”

“No,” I admit. “You and Lyn were right, though. Torturing them back… it’s not productive. I’m torn between just letting them go when we get somewhere safe, or killing them and getting it over with.”

“…I’m obviously going to encourage you to release them,” Jelisa says.

“Obviously,” I snort. “But why should I?”

“It’s the right thing to do,” Jelisa answers simply.

“According to who?” I ask. “It’s nice, sure. And I respect that. I respect you because you show kindness and decency when no one else does. But are the other Templars ever going to respect me? Are they going to forgive me and leave me alone if I show them mercy? Or will every one of them I release just turn around and immediately try to stab me?”

Jelisa chews her lip.

“If… if you only show kindness when it benefits you, is it really kindness at all?” she asks.

“If I show kindness even when it will bite me in the ass, how long will it be until it kills me?” I counter. “Is it really hypocritical to only show kindness to people that won’t abuse it?”

“Shit, Vita, you’re a lot more elo… el… er, a lot more wordy than I remember,” Lyn mentions.

“Well, the thing about being imprisoned by Templars is that you end up listening to a lot of lectures on morality,” I grunt. “And they’re all pretty much the same. I have practice.”

“I think the essence of goodness is being willing to let yourself be hurt for the sake of what’s right,” Jelisa continues, ignoring the aside. “Because to me, doing the right thing is more important than personal gain.”

“Well that’s well and good for you,” I grumble. “But I don’t think you understand how much easier that is for you. My whole life I have been living meal to meal, if you can even call it living. I’ve been a homeless orphan for longer than I can remember, Jelisa. I can’t give away bread to people less fortunate than me when people less fortunate than me don’t fucking exist.”

“But you’re not like that anymore, Vita,” Jelisa insists. “You’re the most powerful person here.”

“Sure I am, until the High Templars come after me again for no reason other than having been born weird,” I snap. “You don’t get it because you’ve never suffered the consequences of being hated. When you do the right thing, you get applauded. But when I went out to do the right thing I got fucking arrested. You see the difference here? You’re not better than me because you’re nice, Jelisa. You’re nice because your life is better than mine. You can afford it because you get rewarded for it. But I don’t, I never have, and at this point it’s really fucking difficult to think of reasons why I should bother to keep trying.”

“It’s not about the reward,” Jelisa says quietly.

“Oh yeah?” I challenge. “Well, how about you spend eighteen years repeatedly getting your ass kicked for every nice thing you do and see if that changes your mind. As far as I’m concerned, your entire organization should be scoured from the island. I’m tempted to do it myself, but I’d prefer it if you just finally fucking left me alone.”

I glower at her a bit as she looks away awkwardly, worry and doubt in her soul.

“You don’t think that’s very likely, do you?” I realize. “You think they’re just going to keep coming for me.”

“…Most likely,” she admits.

I’d figured as much, but it still sucks to hear.

“If you let us go, I can try to convince them to leave you alone,” Jelisa says. “I mean… you’d have to make a few promises, probably, but…”

“I’m done fucking around,” I tell her bluntly. “If your people come at me again, it’s war.”

…And speaking of coming at me, it’s then that I sense a very powerful and very familiar soul enter the tip of my range: High Templar Cassia the Maelstrom. It’s hard to forget this bitch because she was the one who captured me and took me to jail in the first place. She knocked me unconscious by putting a fucking vacuum around my head, and that’s an experience that puts her near the top of the ‘people I never want to meet again’ list. Now that I have the time to appreciate it, though, I do have to admit she has a beautiful soul. Like all High Templars, her soul is fucking huge, extending well beyond the bounds of her physical flesh. She’s a violent, spherical swirl of soothing experiences—something powerful and dangerous, yet crafted from beauty and grace. She is the smell of a thunderstorm, the awe of a gorgeous vista, the feeling of a cloud passing between your fingers… all roaring together in a furious vortex of death.

And that’s not the only soul I feel with her. A High Templar I don’t recognize is carried along with her by her power, and though I’ve never felt it before I suspect I can put a name to the soul. It feels like a massive glass sphere, the center of which glows with that warm radiance I love so much in Lyn and Jelisa’s souls, but between that glow and the edge of the glass flash countless reflections, each warped by the sphere. Images of landscapes flying by, bulbous and warped, feel less like a natural part of the soul and more like information it is constantly pulling inside, actual reflections of views that the talent is constantly streaming into the mind of its wielder.

This, I suspect, is the soul of Braum the Ubiquitous. If I were to take a guess at the true nature of his talent, then, I think he’s similar to me in that he gets constant information about everything around him in a wide area. Unlike me, that information is audiovisual rather than some kind of special sense. He just sees and hears everything in a huge range around him… and then he can cast his illusions anywhere he can see. Notably, though, his range is no longer bigger than mine. I feel no indication that he has spotted us, and that means we aren’t fucked yet.

Damn, my sensory range is probably measurable in miles now.

“Everyone into the forest!” I order. “Now! This way!”

Immediately I’m assaulted with feelings of panic and confusion, but I refuse to elaborate and just keep yelling at people until they obey. This is my favorite part of being in charge. We cut a path perpendicular from the road, heading deeper and deeper into the forest as fast as possible as I try to wrack my brain about how to survive fighting Cassia and Braum again. I’m a lot stronger than I was, sure, but there’s still very little I can do about someone forming a vacuum around my face. Maybe I can stop Cassia from using that spell with how much more mana I can draw out from myself at once, but maybe I can’t so that’s not really a plan. Ideally we’ll move fast enough to avoid Braum’s attention, but I don’t actually have any idea what his range is compared to mine beyond the fact that it’s more than a thousand yards. He could spot us in seconds or he could spot us in an hour, I really have no clue. But even if we end up well outside his range, the fact that several dozen people just trudged off the road with sleds and entered the forest is going to be difficult to miss. Will they ignore us and just continue towards Site 4, or will they turn to investigate?

Plans start forming in my mind, but as usual all of the best ones are far from kind. If we leave the staff behind and bring the supplies, the High Templars will have to choose between leaving them to die in the forest and continuing to chase us. That will definitely slow them down at the very least. Likewise, I can use the Templar prisoners as hostages to get the High Templars to back down. I could also maybe lie to them and claim that Ars hasn’t already escaped, as he might be scary enough to be a bigger priority than I am.

I don’t really like these plans, though. Fucking over the serving staff would be a dick move to people that abjectly don’t deserve it. They followed me because they believed I could and would protect them, and I don’t want to betray that unless I absolutely have to… and a plan that probably won’t even work is far from an ‘absolutely have to.’ I have significantly fewer compunctions about using Templars as hostages, because fuck Templars, but my main issue with that plan is that I don’t think it will work. There’s a good chance they will be willing to sacrifice those Templars in order to recapture me, considering that’s literally protocol according to zombie-Manus. It’s also guaranteed to piss the Templars off, which is detrimental to my long-term goal of getting left the fuck alone. As for Ars… I’m not terrible at lying, but even if the lie works I don’t know if that guy is such a big deal that they literally won’t even take five minutes to smack me around first.

Which leaves me the problem of dealing with a fight again. I’m not super worried about Braum; he’s dangerous, sure, but I can just pop his illusions. It’s Cassia that I have no idea what to do about. Two years ago she opened the fight by hitting me with a wind projectile from over a thousand yards away, and I seriously doubt her skills have faded since then. There’s basically nothing I can do to someone that fights from that distance. I could maybe fill a soul with mana and throw it at her, but it took me five Templar-sized souls bursting with my essence to create a null magic zone covering a sixty foot drop; I can’t even get close to making her fall over a thousand yards. My only hope is for her to underestimate me and willingly put herself in range, and that’s not even kind of a strategy.

“Hey, this is quite a pace we’re setting, Vita,” Lyn says with a bit of false cheerfulness. “I’m not sure how long the noncombatants can keep this up.”

“Mmm,” I acknowledge.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, kiddo?”

“You wouldn’t happen to have any ideas on how to kill Cassia the Maelstrom, would you?”

“Uh…”

“I could target her with my talent fairly easily, but I doubt I will be able to affect her,” Altrix reports, and then I remember I have a bunch of other people here that also hate Templars.

“All right, you have any ideas, Jeremiah?” I ask.

“Undead avians would be a minor distraction at best,” Jeremiah says. “Anything physical she’s going to be able to bat aside, so long-range anima attacks would probably be ideal. I know a few, but I doubt they will be able to do much to a High Templar.”

“Huh. Well, prepare them anyway,” I order. “And let’s see if you can teach them to me if we have time.”

Jeremiah pauses, giving me a considering look before nodding slightly.

“It would be my pleasure,” he lies.

I frown at him. What was that about…? Let’s see, he doesn’t want to share what he knows and he doesn’t particularly like me personally. However, he probably believes that if he denies my requests I will just kill him and then make him teach me anyway.

“It’s not urgent, you don’t have to if you don’t feel like it,” I tell him. “Just don’t lie to me again.”

He raises an eyebrow, and nods.

“What about you, To-Kill-From-Above? Do you even know who Cassia the Maelstrom is?”

The bug man from Hiverock has been following me around for reasons I suspect only he knows. He’s not a very talkative guy, but I figure maybe somehow he knows a thing or two about people who kill from above.

“I am aware of the human known as Cassia the Maelstrom. I have been developing a combat plan for fighting this threat during the entirety of my stay in prison.”

Oh hey, that sounds promising!

“Okay, lay it on us, dude!” I encourage. “What’s your murder plan?”

“I do not have one. I am incapable of achieving victory in any standard combat scenario.”

…Right, of course. I rub my temple-eye in exasperation.

“Okay, who’s next then? Jelisa? Any ideas?”

“You want me to give you advice on how to kill a High Templar?” Jelisa asks me incredulously.

“I mean, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“I mind.”

I scowl at her. Fine, be that way.

“Okay then, I guess we are starting ‘operation: hope really really hard that they just don’t notice us and fly past,'” I say. “Do you think you can all handle that one?”

…And somehow, this actually works. It’s not long until Braum and Cassia reach the point where we veered off the road, and they definitely notice something is amiss. Yet they keep flying anyway, ignoring us and continuing towards Site 4.

“…Huh,” I mutter to myself. “I actually got lucky for once.”

“I suspect they seek the artist,” Altrix informs me placidly. “You may be dangerous and hated, but you are but the epilogue in the book of horror he wrote.”

“From what he told me, he more or less made me by accident,” I grumble. “But I don’t remember. I don’t remember him, I don’t remember you, I don’t remember anything.”

Two-thirds of Altrix’s soul twitch in pain as I say that, so I nod apologetically at her.

“Sorry. I can tell you care about me, but the best I can do is let you stay with me and make new memories. I, uh… smashed mine, I guess. But honestly, your feelings on the matter are the biggest evidence to me that you and Ars aren’t lying. Capita believes it, you believe it, he believes it… I guess I have to face the facts and accept I’m some kind of weird baby Mistwatcher-thing.”

I sigh, raising my arm so I can stare at my flesh tentacle as I idly flick and curl it without really thinking.

“…It’s just annoying,” I continue, “because I really don’t like the Mistwatcher. The idea that I’ll eventually mutate into some big tentacle flesh blob is… not very appealing.”

“I thought you liked your tentacles,” Lyn says, in the same way a mother might be surprised that their child doesn’t like their haircut.

“This is not a tentacle,” I complain, pointing at the thing growing out of my elbow. “It’s a gross, superficially-tentacle-shaped mockery of flesh. It doesn’t move right, it doesn’t feel right… it’s awful.”

“I’ve always been taught that tentacles are symbols of the divine,” Jelisa says solemnly.

I snort.

“Then why aren’t you kneeling?” I quip, wiggling a physical and spiritual tentacle in front of her face.

“Because false use of a divine symbol is blasphemy,” Jelisa smirks.

“Hey, it’s not my fault,” I grumble. “Apparently I was made this way by a former High Inquisitor. Templars have been the ones fucking me from the start!”

Her face falls, and I decide I’m done talking for now. It’s still a long way to our destination, and I should collect as many undead as possible so that none of the living get hurt. The rest of the trip is almost entirely uneventful; over the next couple days we trudge through dense forest, following Netta and Mateo’s directions as I slowly gather an army of a few hundred Dregs and Risen. I just lose myself in the collection process, trying to ignore the unwelcome temptation to let my consciousness leave my body and slip within my soul. For obvious reasons I can’t do that, and that knowledge makes some horrible part of me long to still be in a prison cell. It’s like I’m addicted to not being myself.

Eventually, Netta and Mateo declare that we are ‘close enough’ and request that I make a temporary camp for everyone before they lead me to the place where they meet Penelope. I guess they have been instructed to keep it secret from everyone else, which is perfectly understandable. With Altrix, Manus, and a literal army of undead there to keep the peace, I’m not super worried about leaving everyone else alone. They take Lyn and I to a small clearing a few hours away, and then just… sit down.

“So… how does this work?” I ask.

“We wait,” Netta grunts.

“For how long?”

“Sssometimes daysss,” Mateo hisses. “Your girlfriend isss not well-known for being predictable.”

“Then what?” I press. “She just… appears?”

“Yep,” Netta confirms.

Oh. I was kidding, but all right. I sit down as well, waiting for who-knows-how-long to see one of the few people I love for the first time in years. It’s very boring.

“…Wanna prank her?” Lyn asks.

It’s three hours later when I suddenly feel a powerful mana signature in the center of the clearing. I hunch down deeper into the bushes, hiding in wait of my prey. Then, suddenly, she’s here, and it takes every ounce of my self-control to remain still. She’s here. That soul of beautiful pink bubbles, pulsing and alive, hidden partly under an artificial shell. Her soul is bigger since last I saw it, but the shell is smaller and she’s ever more beautiful because of it.

Penelope has always had a sense for combining practicality and style, but her clothes now lean more towards the former. Heavy, padded clothing armors her body, teasing at her curves with its tight fit. Her hair is braided all the way down past her waist, elegantly woven in a pattern I could never even imagine learning. Her soul stirs as she looks around, and I feel mana rapidly shaping itself inside her despite her motionless hands. Lyn steps out in front of her, and Penelope’s focus snaps on the woman immediately.

“Lyn,” Penelope says curtly, her soul singing stress and impatience. “What happened?”

“…Sorry, Lady Vesuvius,” my mother mutters. “We got really damn close, but we couldn’t break her out. They’ve still got her.”

An aching fury flows through Penelope and is swiftly murdered, replaced by cold calculation. I feel her take in the world around her, analyze information, and start forming a plan all while efficiently coming to a swift conclusion about the current conversation.

“You’re lying,” Penelope says, blunt irritation pouring out of her voice.

There’s a pause, and then her eyes widen as she catches up to her own thoughts.

“You’re lying!” she repeats excitedly.

And that is the moment I burst out of the bushes and scoop her up into a hug. Her eyes lock on to mine immediately—holy shit, they’re golden now—and she squeals with delight as I spin her around, laughing with the sheer jubilance of finally being able to see her again. I’m free. I’m free! Even with the whole world against me, she found me and set me free.

“Vita,” Penelope breathes, cupping her hands around my cheeks as if I might spill through them like water.

“Penelope,” I respond, reaching out with a tentacle—a real tentacle—and feeling an overwhelming surge of joy and relief when it makes contact.

Next thing I know, I’ve wrapped us both up entirely, hundreds of tendrils exploding out of my core and squeezing us together in a cocoon. I made it. I actually made it!

I made it home.