Gerald hated himself the next morning. True, the night before there had been free drinks aplenty, with people all across the town wanting his first hand account of the size of the horde. But that meant...
"Can't we walk any slower?" He moaned, even the footfalls of Lydia near him sounded loud and ringing in his ears.
"Serves you right for drinking so much." She responded with a curt, but satisfied tone of voice. "I honestly should have left you under that table where I found you." She trailed off. They were now at the western gate of the town, and they were walking out nice and early in the morning, with the mayor's letters of warning tucked neatly away inside Lydia's satchel. (She had bought a satchel using some of Gerald's money while he had slept in a little.) She had also packed some vegetables and fruit for the journey, and also some traveler's bread and a few water skins. Gerald wouldn't like the lack of meat one bit, but 'He deserves it.' She also had packed the extra bottle of wine from the day before, but he didn't need to know that. Especially with the spectacle he made of himself the night before...
"Well thank you for that." He said, stumbling slightly with the alcohol finishing flowing through his system. She caught him and stopped him from falling over. "Sorry." He apologized and pushed himself upright on his own.
"Just don't drink that much again and you'll be alright." She reprimanded, giving him a rolled eyed look.
"I'll try to keep that in mind." He smiled at her, but she didn't care.
The gatekeepers let them out just fine, though they did send a caution about the hazards of moving after dark. They followed the road of darker ash into the hills and soon the town was out of sight behind them. It was a peaceful walk, but altogether too quiet for Lydia's liking. The squaw of the ravens in the air were some of the only sounds for the companions. "Beautiful birds." Gerald commented. "Intelligent too. Far more intelligent than most people give them credit for." Silence again reigned supreme as they walked on the road around another hill of Ash.
Lydia finally spoke. "I have some questions..."
The man near her smiled. "I'm sure you do." He replied.
"Well... What did you mean when you were talking to the witch in the last town? What's that... Oh how did you put it... 'Traveller of Long Journey's ' and something like that."
"Traveller of the Long Walk." He confirmed. "These are titles of the Witch's race. The women were noted for being incredibly good at healing magics, and at making poultices, remedies, and other healing items with herbs that grow naturally, while the men were always known for their intensive power and for always being on the move."
'That goes against what I was taught."
"The Wizards," (And he said the name with a frustration that shocked her) "have changed the lore from a variety of truths that used to be common knowledge."
"But what's this 'Long Walk' or whatever?"
Gerald sighed. "You really haven't done your homework Lydia. After the great war, in which the Witches fought on the behalf of the... my people, they were forced from their ancestral homelands." He looked at her sadly, "Basically, the Gin, Druids, and Wizards forced the Witches from their traditional homelands. Banishing them so that they could never return. It was then that the Wizards also placed the curse on the Warlocks, ensuring that out of 100 born to their race, there would only be 1 male. One Warlock."
Lydia nodded. She was aware of the curse. "I was not aware that the Druids were a part of the Witches' migration."
He looked at her. "If you have any sense, please don't call it that in the presence of a Witch. The Long Walk was truly horrible."
The two talked about a few other things, the Ravens around them, what their next destination meant, until finally Lydia finally couldn't hold back her questions any more.
"I... What are... your kind of people... what were they really like?" She asked, breaking the silence after about an hour.
Gerald hemmed and hawed, for a moment before answering. "I'm afraid I don't really know much. I was a relatively young man during the destruction of our people."
"Wait... you were alive for it?" She asked, her tone shocked and disbelieving. He nodded. "I can't really believe that."
"I should hope you believe it." He said, his smile sitting on his face. "You're talking to one of the oldest living beings on this earth. At least to my knowledge." He looked around them. "Behold my kingdom." He laughed, but it was a sarcastic laugh full of memory and sadness behind it.
"Your kingdom?" The Druidess asked, coughing as some ash flew into her mouth.
"Well... not really mine to rule unless I truly am the last of my kind, but still my kingdom in that this is my homeland." He pointed to the north and west. "My father's lands were in that direction, about 150 kilometers or so if I don't miss my guess. If we get the chance, I would like to visit." His face suddenly looked far away, and his mind dwelt on his upbringing. The servants... the parties... that morning... He shuddered, and was quickly back to the present. "Sorry. Kind of lost my focus for a moment." Lydia understood, but her mind was still a jumble. The paper on which she had written her questions was in her satchel and she didn't feel like opening it and risking her companion seeing the extra wine.
"What did this land look like then?" She asked again to fill the silence.
"Green." Gerald said, his eyes closed. "The rains fell, sometimes too much, and the land was coated in the grasses, shades of berry and bush, tree and flower... " He drifted in his memories. "The agriculture of the world was ours. The Druids would send their sons to apprentice with us. The Gin would study our spells to attempt to learn our smith's arts, the Sorcerers conversed with us about gods, morals, the reanimated dead, and the nature of magic, and the Witches lived amongst us in peace. Even fighting and dying with us in what few wars we had." He smiled at the memory, opened his eyes, and continued following the road, correcting his path since he was almost at the edge of the road. "Only the Wizards hated us, and that was because of their goddess, who hates all of my kind."
"Um... what were your parents like?"
"My mother was known for her compassion towards the Were beasts, and she was gifted for their taming, creation, and use. My father was noted for his swordplay and taught me that, in addition to his love of the Vampires. Their lore and craft intrigued him, and I doubt that there was a person who knew more than him." He smiled with pride.
"You... you sound like you miss them."
"Of course." He responded. "Even over a thousand years later, the feelings of loss and sadness still hurt." He caught himself. 'Why am I talking this openly with her?' He thought to himself.
"Did you have any brothers or sisters?" Lydia asked, now curious.
"One sister." He replied. At this, his face grew long and sad. "She taught me all about the raising of Skeletons and Zombies. But I was young and always looking at the Ghouls and wondering what turned a living man into something like that. When I learned the answer I was both mortified, and intrigued." He coughed. "Sorry. I'm sure I'm boring you with the details."
"No... I'm sorry about bringing up such painful memories."
"Can't be helped if you are curious about my race." He said, a small smirk returning to his face. "Besides, you haven't asked the question that's really on your mind yet."
She took a deep breath. "Did your people... kill?"
"Every race of people kill. You'll need to be more specific."
"I mean... did your kind hunt non-magi for fun?"
Gerald thought for a moment. "I certainly never heard of it. I haven't seen or heard of anything of the kind from either my childhood, or the few survivors I've come across."
"But what about your Zombies?" Lydia asked. "Don't they require living people to transform?"
"Why would they?" Gerald raised an eyebrow to that question. "Zombies are reanimated corpses with special endurance. They would usually be raised at the cemetery, and housed in the massive barns we kept."
"And... what were they fed?"
"Not humans, except for criminals who were guilty of things like murder, rape, and other nasty crimes. I can tell you that." Gerald said. "Usually either cows that were too old to produce calves and milk, or other animals that fell ill or died."
"They'll eat that?"
Gerald chuckled. "Those hungry bastards will eat just about anything that moves if you let them. Even my people didn't use them for much outside of warfare and working the fields by night. Even we can get bitten and turn into one of them."
"They do other things than eat?" The shock was evident in her face and Gerald smiled.
"It depends. If you keep the living away, you can get them to do a lot of things." Silence followed.
Lydia swallowed and worked to confirm what was on her mind. "Did you raise the dead to the south of that town?"
"No." He truthfully replied. "I cut out the tongues of some Zombies and had them give me the ring."
"But... you said you saw a skeletal commander."
"I did." His answer was brisk, and without any explanation.
She took a deep breath. "Did you create that skeletal commander?"
"Um... transform would be more accurate, but yes." She stopped behind him, and he kept going for a few steps.
"You really are horrible." She muttered. Her face was a mixture of shock, pain, and horror at what the man had just admitted to.
"I never made any claim on being perfect." He replied, turning to face her.
"You're going to kill all of those people."
"I gave explicit instructions to the commander to give the people time to escape if they chose." Her eyes bore into him. "What?"
"What in the hells were you thinking?" He shrugged. "Those people are going to die." She reiterated.
"Some are."
"You honestly don't care?"
"Should I? Everybody dies. Both Magi and non-Magi. Peasant and King. In my people's eyes, there is very little difference between the dead and the living. The Sorcerers still say the same."
"You're despicable. I should-"
"Think of me what you will," He interrupted, his temper flaring because his emotions were a little raw on the subject of his long dead people, "but you kill people for no reason as well. That is, unless the practice of 'Pruning' hasn't died out in your nobility." His eyes bored into hers. Here, her conscience got her. Pruning... the practice among Druid nobility of killing those who showed no signs of magic by the age of 10. Even one of her brothers had fallen by it.
"It... it preserves the order and power of the houses." She said, her mind racing for an excuse.
"It is, in a great many ways, more cruel and heartless than the things I have done." He said, his eyes bore into hers, and judgement was on his brow. "You lie to your children, despite the fact that you know who can and can't perform magic before the age of four, and try to breed some false hope and even love for you before you slit their throats in their sleep." He gave a triumphant and loud but harsh laugh. "And they called my people cruel..."
He turned away and took a few circular breaths. "I'm sorry. That was horrible of me."
"In more ways than one." Lydia said, holding her position and breathing deeply herself. "But don't change the subject! You honestly have no empathy for those people you've condemned to die? Their lives? Their homes?"
He turned to her again, his face stoic. "I am a master of the dead. I am a good master to those who serve me, and those who serve me are rewarded." He recited it verbatim from what his father had told him. "I am, one of the strong."
"And as such you have control of the weak and should protect them as such." Lydia interrupted.
He paused and considered her words. "Perhaps some of our wisdom has continued after all." He said with a slight grin, "What you just said is almost word for word a message that Zeiss reportedly told our founding ancestor when we were created with the founding of the six branches of Magic." He breathed, and spent a minute in unmoving silence, trying to picture everything from her perspective. "I suppose what I did was rash. I was rather caught up in the moment. I haven't been able to do my craft for a very long time after all."
She breathed a sigh of relief that he was being more reasonable. "Can you undo it?"
"No. Nor would I if I could." He replied, much to her disappointment. "The Wizards can take care of this mess. I enjoy bothering them anyways. And besides, the undead have desires of their own."
"They WHAT?" She exclaimed, Lydia's eyes growing wide with that knowledge.
"You honestly didn't know? Yes, the undead have wills of their own. Many of them are simply not able to tell someone who isn't one of my kind. In fact, with the horde away south, it would only be a matter of time before they had launched an attack on their own." He closed his eyes and felt the magic. "Can't you feel it, Lydia? Things are changing... Whether the rebirth of my people, or the death of the Witches I am not certain, but the winds of change are actually flowing again." He paused. "The last time I felt them this strong..." His silence didn't answer Lydia's lingering questions. He suddenly turned and wandered along the road further, and eventually the Druidess followed, not exactly sure what to make of her companion that she would be stuck with for the next year. As to why she continued to walk with him... where else was there to go? Even in death, the Necromancer would ensure that the pact was kept after all...