The Waystation Ch.31 (Patreon)

Chapter 31

The City of the Dead. III

“So, smartass, how the fuck are we going to do this?” Bell asked.

“I have no bloody idea,” Bert smiled back. “In case you haven’t noticed yet. I tend to make this shit up as I go along.”

“Oh, I noticed.” Bell giggled.

“I’ve been trying to figure it out but don’t understand the problems. I mean, the Waystations are naturally occurring… can it really be that difficult to create one based on an undead spirit instead of a living spirit?”

“All spirits are living, silly,” Bell said. “That is why no one has done it.”

“What about those wraith ladies the orc brothers are so fond of? They certainly look like dead spirits.”

“Nope,” Bell shook her head. “They are living spirits that use undead energy to manifest.”

“What is undead energy anyway? It’s not just death-aspected mana; it looks different.” Bert asked.

“Oh, that’s easy. It’s death mana infused with life essence.” Bell looked thoughtful. “It is delicate to balance, but once the balance point is reached, it's almost indestructible.”

“And that makes the wraith ladies all undead-y?” Bert asked.

“Basically,” Bell nodded. “What?” She scowled at a suddenly beaming Bert. “You have that look again.”

“Remind me how waystations are created,” Bert said sweetly.

“A large concentration of….” Bell giggled. “That’s nuts. Can it really be that easy?”

“Probably not,” Bert shrugged. “There are possibly undeniable reasons not to do this, but since I don’t know any of them….”

“We’re going to do it anyway?” Bell chuckled.

They smiled at each other for a while.

“Bert, can I ask you something?” Bell said in the silence; she was looking off into the distance.

“Sure, Bell. What’s on your mind?”

“Well, when the jellies came… you seemed to be… do you still want to die?” She blurted the last of that out in a rush.

Bert thought about the question before answering.

“No, I don’t.” He smiled at Bell, “This place, you and Way Way, it’s everything to me. I want to live to explore this world.” He looked down. “But, I still miss my wife. It is difficult to explain, but she is my other half. I’m not complete without her. Could you imagine being without Way Way?”

“No!” Bell looked aghast. “Never! I’d rather die.” She got a surprised look on her face. “Is that why?”

“Pretty much.” Bert hung his head. “When she got sick, there was nothing I could do but be there for her, you know? I had to stand by, helpless, as she fought. I did my best, of course, to make things easier for her.” He looked at Bell, tears running down his cheeks. “There is nothing worse than being unable to help the person you love most, watching them in pain, and being unable to take that pain away.” Bert took a deep breath and continued in a low voice, “She made me promise not to simply kill myself. We couldn't be sure, you see, that suicide wouldn’t prevent us from being together in the afterlife.”

“Bert….” Bell whispered.

“I’m okay,” Bert wiped his eyes. “That is why I ended up here, really. I met some nutcase who got upset over nothing and just… kept pushing. I thought I would just die and be with her.” He laughed suddenly, “Picked the wrong nutcase there. Anyway, that brought me here to you and Way Way.” Another smile. “In between you trying to kill me, I got to quite like you both. Then one thing led to another, and frankly, I wouldn’t miss this for anything.” Bert frowned. “But, if it ever comes down to a choice between you or me living? I won’t be sad to choose you to live. I would gladly die to see my wife. I would also gladly die to save you, Way Way, and the others.”

Bell said nothing for a few minutes as she sniffled into her handkerchief.

“Bert?” She asked eventually.

“Yes, Bell?” Bert replied.

“I-I-I feel bad now.” She whispered.

“Why?” Bert asked mildly.

“Because I kept trying to kill you, and sometimes I still think about hurting you,” She looked at him and away again quickly, “Just maiming, though! Promise.”

Bert laughed. “Bell?”

“Yes, Bert?” She asked nervously.

“Sometimes I think about locking you in a pot,” He grinned.

“You, WHAT?” She asked furiously.

“It’s something family does; we’d do anything for each other, but… sometimes we piss each other off.”

“So it doesn’t make me a bad person?” Bell asked curiously.

“No, Bell.” Bert grinned.

===========

Percy arrived at nightfall with a small group of the senior artisans. Bud met them at the Gatehouse and escorted them into the Bear’s Fall.

As soon as everyone was seated, Bert and Bell were in the place of honor in the center of the half-circle of chairs; the Lich King stood and addressed the group.

“My assistants and I have been working nonstop since we spoke, Caretaker. Every book on magic we have has been scoured. Every artisan with even a tangential interest has put forward ideas. Committees have met and argued until only an hour ago….” Percy sighed. “It can not be done. There is no way to make an undead spirit. We have come up with a secondary plan, however. We can take a living spirit and attempt to twist it into an undead state. The ritual will require all the magic the entire city can muster, a ritual circle over a mile across, and the sacrifice of a dozen undead for every attempt. Once we have that spirit, we can attempt to bind it to a building like a Waystation.” The Lich King stood to his full height, hood brushing the ceiling. “It will be a massive sacrifice, but we are willing to try.”

A general muttering of agreement from the assembled artisans.

Bert and Bell whispered to each other.

“Yeah, let's call that Plan B, okay?” Bert said when they finished.

“Plan B?” Percy asked, confused.

“The backup plan if the good one doesn’t work,” Bell explained.

“We have a better idea,” Bert said.

“Probably,” Bell amended.

“Well, yeah, but it requires a lot less sacrifice,” Bert added.

“Unless it kills us all,” Bell said gleefully.

“Of summons an eldrich horror from some distant dimension,” Bert muttered.

“What was that?” Percy asked suspiciously.

“Nothing!” Bert said brightly. “Mind if I take the floor?” He ushered a thoroughly confused lich out of the way and addressed the room. “Hi! Thanks for coming out and for all your work. It was great, really. Bell and I think we can go another way.” He looked at the group of confused faces. “Instead of trying to force something to happen, we are going to let it happen naturally.” He waved down the chorus of dissent. “I know, I know. Undead things are not supposedly natural. But that does not mean it can not happen. Just that it never has anywhere it survived long enough to be noticed. To put it in terms of my own world, the absence of evidence is not evidence of absence.” He waited while they worked that out. “We are going to try and create a naturally undead Waystation by concentrating undead energy into a structure and area that is specially constructed to be suitable for it… then wait and see what happens.” Bert beamed at a sea of stunned faces.

One… Two… Chaos erupted as everyone tried to talk at once.

As the sun rose, many hours later, Bert was leaning over the railing above the gatehouse with Percy as the various undead filed down the drawbridge and headed back to the city.

“You are a peculiar man, Bert J. Hudson.” Percy watched the sun rise over the City of the Dead.

“I’ve been told that before,” Bert chuckled.

“Have you thought about what could go wrong,” Percy asked.

“Not really,” Bert sighed, “I try not to focus on that kind of thing.”

“Why?” Percy seemed genuinely interested.

“Because if you spend too long thinking about what can go wrong, you will never do anything.” Bert shrugged. He saw Percy nodding out of the corner of his eye.

“I agree, but I meant, why help us? Why not simply leave? I know you are nowhere near as calm as you seem.” Percy chuckled. “That first night I heard the revels, I came out to watch… do you know what I saw?”

“I’m not sure I could even guess,” Bert said with a smile.

“I saw a human, a living man, dancing through the streets with a friendly smile and a warm greeting for everyone. Many people saw that, of course. But I also saw something else. I saw a man terrified and near panic, surrounded by the monsters of nightmares. He smiled and danced, was kind and thoughtful, but all the time, in his eyes… he was screaming.”

Bert was quiet for a moment.

“It’s true, of course.” He admitted. “I was terrified. The truth is I am a lot of the time. Intellectually I know there is nothing to fear. You’re good people, people I like. But my instincts are slow learners, and I grew up with tales of the rampaging undead.” He chuckled ruefully, “If I am being totally honest, I should admit I am scared almost all the time. Everywhere.”

“Was your world a scary place?” Percy asked.

“For me? Yes. I never fit in there or anywhere. I learned early on to feel the fear, plaster on a smile, and keep going.” He smiled at the Lich, “Came in handy when I got to this world and in the Mists before.”

“Would you like to know a secret, Mister Hudson?” Percy asked as he stretched out his back.

“Always,” Bert smiled.

“We are all afraid. Everyone. Some just hide it better than others.” Percy said as he turned to leave. “Your way is better than most, or haven’t you realized your effect yet?”

“Effect?” Bert asked.

“Orcs dancing with the undead, a young girl goes from street urchin to a genius farmer, a minion learned to be a friend instead of a servant… all because they watch you. They see you, Bert J Hudson. They see you smiling and accepting reality even when you are afraid.” Percy paused as they got to the drawbridge. “You may create an entirely new form of life with this Waystation of the Dead, Caretaker, but the greatest magic I will remember you for will always be a terrified man who chose kindness and friendship instead of violence and anger.”

He nodded to the stunned Bert and floated towards the city.

===============

After a very short sleep and a hasty breakfast, the Waystationers began to work in earnest. Bell led a scouting party to find the right area for the experiment. She was the logical choice as the resident expert in all things Waystation. With the backing of the Lich King, she had unlimited access to everything she needed to know. The first thing she did was find out about the city core.

A peculiarity of any large city was that the actual ground claimed by the core was always smaller than the real city. People built a lot faster than a core could expand. What is more, the city core required living creatures in order to grow. The conversion of the population to undead had frozen it in its tracks.

The influence of the core over the area fell off sharply after that point, but they needed entirely unclaimed ground. They also needed it to be inside the city walls for defense while technically outside the city itself. They had found three likely places. The first was an abandoned temple. It had once been dedicated to the goddess Purity but had been smote by its own goddess for existing in a city of the dead. However, Bell detected remnant celestial mana in the ground, so they moved on.

The second site was more promising at first. It was an old orphanage. Bell asked where the orphans were, but they had all been adopted after the change. Apparently, being changed into the undead had strengthened the idea of all being in it together. Every child had been adopted within a couple of months of the Curse of Sentience.

It was free of influence from the city and built against a wall. It seemed perfect until they realized it was built not against the wall but into it. Converting it to a Waystation would mean that should the Waystation ever move, it would collapse that section of the wall.

As Bell and the committee moved toward the final choice, she paused and glanced off to the side.

“What’s that place?” Bell asked as she pointed to a rubble-strewn and overgrown plot of land.

“That, oh, that’s the old Broken Barrel.” A woman said, she had been leaning out of her window as she hung up some washing. “It was the first Ale house back when this city was first formed.” She dried her hands on her apron, “The story goes that the first Lord of this place was in love with the Landlady and declared the property hers and not part of the town.” She shrugged. “It is a silly old tale, but everyone always acted as if it were true. Over the years, it crumbled away.”

“Didn’t anyone ever take it on or rebuild it?” Bell asked.

“Hah!” The woman spat, “As if we would let ‘em. That there is our own private bit of history.” She grinned, “We ran off anyone who wanted to use the site.”

Bell flew down and touched the ground. She smiled.

“I don’t think it was an old wives tale,” She chuckled. “This land is NOT part of the town.”

“What?” The woman gasped and rushed over to Bell. “Are you sure?”

“There is no influence from the city core here, in the middle of the damn city. I’m sure,” The women grinned at each other.

“So, you going to try and run me off to?” She giggled dangerously.

“I don’t think it would work,” The woman smiled wryly.

“Clever lady.” Bell beamed.

“But there has to be a building, doesn’t there?” Bert asked the beaming Bell.

“There is one, or rather the remains of one,” She looked smug. “ And what is more, there has only ever been one building on that site.”

“And it was a pub?” Bert asked, Bell long ago having got used to the term.

“Yup!” It had a single owner, who died, and the building just slowly fell apart over the years… it’s perfect.”

“But will it work?” Bert asked again.

“I think it may be the easiest option,” Bell shrugged, “There is such a thing as the power of stories.” She grinned, “We are trying to make an undead Waystation… what better story than resurrecting an old and much-storied building!”

“Raising it from the dead, kind of thing?” Bert grinned.

“Exactly!” Bell glowed.

===============

They made their way to the plot of land once night fell. The streets were packed as the crew made their way into the city's center; everyone was cheering them on as they passed.

Once they arrived, they saw every window and door was stuffed with onlookers. In the center of the square was the plot of land, complete with tumble-down walls and the occasional bit of fallen stone; plants grew wild across the entire property.

Percy and many others lined the plot's edges, each carrying a series of crystals that pulsed with green-edged darkness. Even the Banshee had come out to witness the event. She leaned against a wall on the far side of the square, getting occasional looks.

Percy asked Bert to say a few words as they prepared to begin. He asked to borrow one of the smaller crystals. Bemused, Percy handed it over.

Bell came over and landed on his shoulder, placing a hand on his neck and casting a spell to amplify his voice. When he began to speak, his voice carried not just through the square but was heard through the entire city.

“Ladies, Gentlemen, Thank you for coming tonight. We are here to attempt the impossible; we know that. Many might wonder why we would even try… to them, I have this to say… The impossible is ALWAYS worth doing. Even if we fail, even if this does not work, we will have tried. The effort itself IS worthy.” He paused a second, looking around at the rapt faces, “This wondrous night, we will attempt two worthy things. First, we will attempt to give birth to new life. An undead  Waystation.” He waited for the cheering to stop, “But more importantly, we will resurrect a legend!” More cheers. “On this site, there was once a humble Ale House, a place of comfort and joy. A place of love. A love so strong that not only did the Lord at the time not claim the land, gifting it to his love… but that love spilled into the hearts of those who live in this area. They protected this site from being claimed by others, even unto the present day!” The cheers were so loud the very ground seemed to vibrate.

“There is no more fitting place to do this,” Bert said. “And no better people to do it. Your whole city fell, only to rise again into a new undeath. Your senses returned to you by one of your own, who so loved his own he returned their minds, that they might know themselves again.” The citizens roared their love of the Lich King, “And no better energy to give new form than this,” Bert held the crystal above his head, and it began to glow. Bell moved her hands in complicated patterns, creating a glowing image above the city, “Life and Death are but two sides of a coin. Neither exists without the other. Undeath is nothing more or less than these two titanic forces brought into perfect harmony!” Another round of cheers, so loud the ground shook. “And so, as we begin, I ask you all, pour your love into this plot of land, pour your hopes and dreams, your kindness and your empathy into this land. And then, with luck, we will welcome the first new birth of the City of the Dead!”

The Banshee rose into the sky and began to sing a haunting melody. It spread through the city as more and more joined in. As Percy nodded to the others, they began forcing the Undead Energy into the land. One by one, the crystals started to shatter. A second energy began to flow; it rose from the city, from each citizen as they sang, and funneled towards the Banshee, from there it passed down in a shining column into the plot of land.

“What the hell?” Bert asked Bell.

“I don’t know.” Bell muttered, “It’s something I’ve never seen before.”

“There is not enough energy,” The banshee called down. “I can feel something, but we are running out of energy!” She sounded frantic.

“Bert, do you trust me?” Bell asked seriously.

“On this world or any other, partner,” Bert said.

“Then do as I do.” She led him out onto the plot of land.

He watched her cycle her tides and copied the strange rhythm. She touched his head, and knowledge flooded his mind… a way to focus essence, channel it, and change it.

“You will not remember this; I’m sorry,” Bell whispered to him. “It is the magic of the pixies.”

“I trust you,” Bert said again and began to concentrate.

A pulse ran through his body, and his eyes opened; he was floating in the air next to Bell, and his tides roared in and out of his body. Looking down, he saw a torrent of mana and essence flowing out of him and Bell. It clashed and merged into the energy of undeath before plunging into the plot of land.

It only lasted a second, maybe two, and then they were flung from the land as something erupted within it.

Bert caught Bell before she hit the floor and, with trembling legs, turned to watch as an eerie silence moved in a wave out from the watchers in the square. A shimmering ghostly tendril reached up from the ground… and then another. They merged and flowed together until… a ghostly building took shape.

The tumbled walls began to piece themselves back together, and Bell yelled to the watchers, “It needs materials, quickly!”

Percy raised a hand, and stone and wood were passed from hand to hand before being placed in the plot. Slowly the ghostly building took on a more solid shape.

In an hour, a room was complete; in two, the whole building and the wall was completed as the third hour passed. Two stone pillars formed into a high arch, and a sign slowly dropped into place.

Waystation of the Dead!

All welcome!

Percy, Bert, Bell, and the Banshee walked into the building, apparently named Nadine’s according to the name over the door.

“Welcome to– you killed me, you little BITCH!” A melodious and vaguely familiar voice called as they entered.

Bert looked over to see an undead fairy glowing red with rage as she glared at Bell.

Bell just laughed. “Look, Bert! It’s fairy slutty!” Bell giggled.

“Why, you little!” The undead fairy drew a dagger from her belt and growled.

“Bring it, hoe bag!” Bell summoned a swarm of knives as the undead fairy somehow managed to go even paler.

“Enough!” The Banshee called. “As Caretaker of this Waystation, I demand peace!”

“You’re the Caretaker?” Bert asked as Bell and the fairy glowered at each other.

“Well. I am the original owner,” The Banshee said confidently.

“What?” Percy gasped.

Bert looked at the Banshee, “You may have to explain that a little.”

The Banshee smiled, “Delighted!”

.