The undead did not make more of themselves through just biting or an infection the way some people mistakenly thought. Ayden was no mage yet, but aspiring mages usually knew which information bits were fact and which were myth. Just like how elves didn’t exist, but instead what people thought were elves actually were angels. The pointy ears were a genetic trait just as dark eyes as opposed to blue eyes.

  The undead did not transmit any condition. They simply killed you. That was it. Then whatever raised the undead raised you next using Dire Mage. Just as Ayden feared it would to him. Assuming he died here.

  He steeled himself as the undead corpse clawed at his face, gnashed at his throat, and battered his arms with a frantic rain of fists and nails. Panic flushed out into the form of a “fight” response. He screamed, his voice shriller than he’d have liked, but given the circumstances, he cared little about it. He enhanced his arms and thrust out, clocking the undead in the chin. Of course, since Ayden fought an undead, a concussion served no purpose, but the sheer force of his punch broke the undead’s neck from the speed at which his head pivoted.

  Ayden sensed that he had a little more Soul Source left, so he saved it. Pushing the creature off, he turned to see the horror of the whole grove rising with the dead inhabitants. Even the girl who had held the axe crawled her way to him, her legs minced apart from the previous fight.

  Ayden stepped back and collided with the watchtower. The wood shattered as more undead broke through from inside. He scampered into the tree line screaming for Xavos to help. The undead shambled after him. However, a select few were able to sprint.

  One leaped for him and Ayden burned through half of his remaining Soul Source to outpace the creature. A second leaped as well and Ayden dove to the side, letting it crunch into a tree. He scrambled over a few bushes, spotting the thorns that adorned them far too late. They bit and dug into his clothes and flesh. He gritted his teeth and pushed through the pain. One caught his eye, and half his vision turned to a blurred and crimson mess.

  The shambling undead continued to chase. He had to find a place to hide and rest. There was no way he could keep running with the minor wounds piling atop each other and the sleep deprivation he started to feel.

  Turning around, he could no longer see the undead. The darkness of the forest enveloped him and he never saw the branch in his way. It pierced his side but he managed to swerve enough to not let it dig any deeper. However, when his feet landed, they found air. He collapsed down the hill, rocks and roots colliding with every limb and joint in the worst angle.

  Currents shot up his elbow where a root struck gold. His head spun as he spun, and a rock cracked into his brow spurting forth blood. Eventually he splashed into a bone chilling stream. He hadn’t seen or heard it coming so he had no air in his lungs to prepare. Already he felt himself drowning and asking the question, is this how I die?

  Water surged through his lungs and he started to panic again. Where is Xavos? Why did he leave me? Did the Dire Mage kill him? Dire Magic raised those corpses. Even if Ayden survived this, he still had one of the most fearsome cults to deal with.

  He found his bearings when his feet struck the river bed. He launched himself up and as he broke through the surface of the river, he retched up a belly full of water. Splashing around, he must have alerted the undead. Bodies fell inside the river with him, gnashing with tooth and nail. One bit his ear. The other smacked hard into his diaphragm. Taken under the water again with the wind knocked out of him, he realized his consciousness started to wane.

  He channeled what little of his Soul Source he had left to try to push again with his legs. Somewhere in the tussle, he’d flipped upside down. So instead of kicking the river bed, he kicked the mass of undead above, still trying to sink and kill him. The force propelled him down and the undead up.

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  His body slammed into the river bed, but so did the undead still wrapped around him. The collision knocked him out.

  ***

  When Ayden returned to consciousness, he realized he was afloat on a corpse, his chin inches from the water in which he drooled blood and phlegm. His fingers looked like raisins and his head throbbed. He started to shiver and as the sun hung above the horizon, its pillars of light beaming through the thinning trees ahead, Ayden saw his reflection in the water. He looked as much of a corpse as the one he floated on. Its neck had snapped in the collision with the river bed and Ayden had been lucky it had latched onto him as it did under water. Without it, it’d be Ayden’s neck that snapped.

  He waded his way to the shore and collapsed onto the muddy ground. His stomach begged for food and his mouth yearned for water. His lips had started to fray and split. His skin started to peel around all the cuts he’d suffered. Ayden’s hand shook as he raised them to observe. The various wounds he’d gotten had scabbed over or likely were infected from the river.

  It took him a few moments to realize his vision had returned to his thorn-pierced eye, but a section of his sight still looked bloody and blurred.

  “Xavos,” he rasped. “Where are you?”

  ***

  Ayden trudged through the forest. He’d lost a boot somewhere in the river. The exposed foot now festered from its several cuts. Where the undead had raked their nails across his flesh, pus started to drip. His pierced eye also was infected for an immense bubble of heat had formed there and he’d lost his sight again.

  Was this some joke? Some twisted, cruel prank to ruin my life? I don’t even know where I am. I’m starving, diseased, infected, wounded, and sleep deprived. Xavos, you bastard, if I had power, I would kill you. Truth was, Ayden had nothing. He’d always had nothing and the old man had abused his desire for more against him.

  Forged in fire, my ass. That bastard knows nothing about training. No wonder his students all died. HE killed them.

  Ayden scaled a hill, huffing as he did. His foot slipped and he realized he had no more strength left. Ayden rolled onto his back and glared up at the rising sun. So thirsty… So tired. What if I just fall asleep here and hope someone finds me.

  He’d escaped the looming presence of the forest and now found an expanse of hilly meadows. The chances of a roaming band of travelers or a patrol finding him were still low, however, since he’d strayed far off any common trail or road. Likely a monster had picked up on the scent of blood and were on their way now.

  Ayden tried to recall the local maps he’d studied for enjoyment to find out where he was now. A meadow, a forest, a river flowing south. Those were all the clues he had, and unfortunately too little to make any sensible guess.

  I have to move. Keep moving.

  He remembered how he’d scaled a pole to harness the power of stars… worlds. Ayden had been ready to die for that power. Now Ayden hung on the precipice of death again. He had to ask himself the question again to force his limbs to move.

  Am I willing to die for this? The answer soothed him. If he was dying and willing to die, why not get up and push harder? Why not lift himself to his feet and trudge onward. Onward and onward till no more.

  Ayden cursed as he surged up to his feet. He cursed again as pain lanced through everywhere. He pushed himself forward. He forced himself forward. Onwards and onward. He scaled the hilly meadows and then skidded down the slope. Scaled yet another, only to roll down the next.

  He yelled as it took every bit of strength in his body and channeling of his Soul Source to stand and continue forward.

  Onward.

  Onward.

  And onward.

  And…

  Ayden felt his Soul Source deplete and knew the repercussions of drawing from an empty well. His shoulders slumped and his knees shook. My magic. It’s gone… I have to keep going. But I have nothing left.

  Going where, he wondered.

  Onward. That is all. Just… Just onward.