Gravewalker

Chapter 1: Her

She never enjoyed the smell of corpses, much less thousands of them. Its not like she could not afford to be picky however, this war was eating into everyone's purse. Well, everyone except her employers of course. The lucky few people who could pay enough for this job to be worth it.

She stumbled her way through the fields of bloody gore and grisle that used to be young men and woman. Their hopeful lives cut short by some lord's petty feud. They probably didn't even know why they doing it. She had been one of them once, many years ago, before she was marked. She told herself she had outgrown such pity, seen too much to let it affect her. She lied.

Scavengers had beaten her here, and many were still here, salvaging what livihoods they could from those who didn't need it anymore. Some had even begun staking claims to regions of the battlefield, scaring away competitors to their prizes. Fortunately they knew not to challenge her. Her armour normally disuaded troublemakers. When they didn't her haggard glare or the point of her spear did. Sometimes it helped to be reviled.

Her target had aparently been in the vanguard. It was not uncommon for young and brash nobles to get themselves on the vanguard in foolish pursuits of glory.

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...The red hair, the sigil on the tabbard, the slight smell of expensive perfume piercing the putrid musk. This must be him, the youngest son of the Hasonir house, Gregori. Lying face down in the mud.

Turning over the body, she was faced with what she already knew and feared. He was dead. Cut down by an axe to the gullet. Hardly the cleanest death but still luckier than many. Naturally this complicated things. Bringing her charges home was generally easier when they were still alive. It's never that easy. At least his body was mostly in tact, that would make things easier. And he had probably been dead less than a day. It could be worse.

Clearing a space around her, she placed five candles in circle upon the ground surrounding the body. Placing a lock of the boy's hair and a drop of his blood into each flame, she began the ritual. Chanting the words that had refused to leave her mind since the last time she slept, all those years ago. Did she even remember sleep? She did not know the language of the chant or the precise meaning of the words, but she knew their purpose, seeking.

The ground within the circle opened up to a dark void that leeched the light from around it. Grigori's body fell into the void with barely a sound. With one last breath of the rotting air, a delicacy compared to what came next, she crossed her arms and stepped in to the circle, falling into the land of the dead.

Chapter 2: Him

The falling wasn't plesant, but it was the rushing sense of dread that was most disturbing. As if the air itself was sorrow and she had just dived into the deep end. The landing wasn't much better, but at least she could land on her feet, unlike the limp body of Gregori. It was clear from the way his body that at least a couple more bones were broken. That was a problem for later. Technically the contract was only to bring him home alive, not unharmed. Though broken bones were unlikely to win her much favour, or clients.

Pulling the rope from her bag, she tied up the lad, slung the rope over her shoulders and dragged the body in the direction her intincts told her. The ritual she had performed before leaping had offered her some supernatural guidance but that was limited. The land of the dead was dark and barren. A soul could wander for eternity and never truely change their view. In fact, many did. Just black rocks and darkness for ever and ever. Never knowing where to go, or if there was even somewhere to go.

Priests often spoke of great and terrible afterlives for saints and sinners. Endless summer feasts and bottomless pits of torments. This was certainly great and endless, and it was terrible and tormenting, but not in ways people were taught. The cynic in her had long accepted, reveled in smugness even, the truth that this was all there was. But, however small, some part of her hoped that somewhere is this cursed land was something, anything beyond the emptiness and occasionaly wandering soul. Perhaps she had just been unlucky enough to always land clients who belonged here instead of whatever grand alternatives existed.

It wouldn't be that much of a stretch. Squeezing the people for everything they had then sending them off to war to take the only thing they have left. Top it off with using their ill-gotten gains to send the cursed ones to recover only their own flesh and blood. Letting them walk again, fight again, die again, and once more leaving a field of blood. It can't excatly look great in front of whatever gods ruled these worlds, if any.

If there was a better place down here, she wondered if she would have ever made it there. Before death was taken from her reach forever more. She didn't remember much of her life before. She was no saint but she thought she lived a decent life. She certainly wasn't waging war just to get a few more profits by controlling another river. What of her life since though? Is she a good person now? Is she even a person anymore?

Her troubled thoughts were blessedly interupted by something very unblessed indeed. The crack of bone. Then another and another. Slowly but surely, Grigori rose to his feet. With some difficulty due to the ropes. His movements were unatural and uncoordinated, like he was only just learning how muscles worked.

"That's...strange. So soon?." She ask, perplexed. "Grigori, right? Baronet Grigori Hasonir?"

"..." Grigori glared at her, silent. After a few moments, a sound escaped his lips. It sounded like he was trying to speak.

"Your chords are still shreded. I'd have stitched them up but I thought I still had a few days before I found you. Sit down." She suggested. After a few seconds, Grigori seemed to understand and complied.

"This, is going to hurt, alot. Normally we do this before the soul rejoins the body but you kinda jumped ahead on that one." She pulled the surgery tools from her bag and began soaking rags with disinfectant. Once the wound was cleaned, she mixed an alchemical salve and smothered the gash. Her alchemy would only do so much, it would take weeks to heal properly, but it should be enough for him to manage a few basic words and to start breathing again, once there was air to breathe that is.

"Don't speak unless you have to, or you'll just tear them again. I suggest you stick to nodding if you can. Now do you know where you are?" She asked.

Girgori shook his head gently.

"First time I guess. Well, bluntly, you're dead. Or were until just a minute ago. I was sent by your brother to retrieve you. Right now, you are between life and death. Once I get you out of here, you'll be fully alive again, if aching like...well, hell. Do you understand?"

Grigori hesitated, then nodded gently.

"I know it's a lot to take in, but we can't dally. A living person down here attracts trouble. The kind of trouble that wants to keep you down here. Normally I have an exit planned before rejoining but, once again, you rushed things." She paused and observed the void around her. Every whisper on the wind could be one of them. "Now you need to find the exit yourself, I can only guide and protect you. So think on your life. Think of something or someone, you really want to return to. Your connection will lead the way. Understood?"

Grigori nodded, once again hesitantly.

"Your brother mentioned you were sweet on a girl called Ylana. Perhaps thinking of her will help?"

Grigori looked confused, shruged and shook his head.

"Huh. Maybe your brother doesn't know you that well. Not sweet on her? Or maybe you dont remember her, remembering your previous life can be tricky at first, I know. Hmm, perhaps you remember your brother, Ivan? He's paying me a lot to find you, so he must care at least somewhat."

Grigori thought how to answer. He shrugged and shook his head.

"Do you at least remember that you have a brother?"

Tentative nod.

"Well that's something at least..."

Grigori drew his thumb across his neck.

"...he's dead? I don't think so, I spoke to him just yesterday. Do you really not remember any of this? Souls aren't normally this forgetful, especially not after only a day of so."

Grigori look puzzled again. Shook his head. Seeing her return the confusion, he held up a finger, struggled to mouth the word "day" and shook his head.

"You don't think you've been here a day?"

Grigori nodded.

"How long do you think you've been here?"

Grigori pondered for a moment, shrugged, held up five fingers, loosely shaking his hand to indicate uncertainty and, with great effort, mouthed the word "years".

"About five years? That's definitely not right." She wondered. There was no explanation for this. Well, except one. One that had been hidden in the back of her mind as soon as Grigori stood up. But surely it wasn't possible. "You aren't Grigori Hasonir are you?"

In a raspy voice, the stranger managed one sylable. "...no."

"...fuck."

Chapter 3: Them

Okay, try not to panic. This should not, could not, have happened. What can I do about this? She had barely a moment to think before a whisper on the wind told her they were close. The decision was obvious now, run.

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