A Woman of the Swamp

15. The Abomination

Lazy necromancers were the bane of any studious practitioner, at least, that’s what the books Marie read purported. ‘Necromancy without proper attention is like handing a four-armed toddler six guns.’ While not particularly helpful, Marie had still found the words apt. Abominations were the perfect example of said metaphorical toddler. While practiced necromancers could raise them purposefully, most abominations were created by a simple slip of the mind. A necromancer focused on raising one body, lost concentration, and accidentally widened the range. It was an easy enough mistake to make, but not one likely to ever be forgotten.

A short lapse in attention resulted in groups of corpses reanimating together and animating as one messy pile of rot. Joints fused where they shouldn’t and the gasses of bodies in different stages of decomposition became one in a terrible union that assaulted every virtue possible. Single corpses were easy enough to control, but fused corpses carried the brain of every unlucky sap in the pile, making them significantly harder to manage. More often than not, abominations would smash through whatever was in front of them and wreak bloody havoc until they got too close to something sharp and burst.

Staring at the creature crawling out of the tomb, Marie was reminded in a hundred separate ways why she had given up necromancy in prison. There was nothing natural about the hulking form squeezing its way through broken stone. Every movement it made sent grimaces of pain through its many faces, stacked at odd angles across its body. One face had been stretched and bent where the creature’s head should have been and let out a bone-chilling moan that gurgled and sloshed like sewage water.

“You know what to do here, Nick?” Shirley’s hands held her pistol out before her, steady and strong.

Nick stood there, slack-jawed, watching the creature pull its way out of the earth. “That’s uh—” He spun the chamber of his revolver and started loading fresh shells. “That’s a really big one.”

The abomination made its way out of the tomb, shattering the marble on both sides as it pushed its way out onto the cemetery’s main path. One of the pillars cracked and crumbled, taking chunks of the ceiling with it. Cracks filled the air as the rest of the mausoleum crumbled under its own weight and collapsed. Glass shattered as the dome that had topped the structure shattered. White dust shot into the air, creating a miniature mushroom cloud. The abomination cried out in an expression of what could have been pride or pain.

James loaded a harpoon in the end of his rifle. “So, other than being really big, anything you can tell us about it?”

“Is that my harpoon gun?!” Nick looked away from the abomination momentarily, consternation replaced with anger.

“Is this really the time for that?” Marie looked around the cemetery trying to assess their options.

The abomination shambled forward, each step shaking the ground beneath its feet.

“At least it’s slow,” said Lopsang.

“Stealing from your master. That’s got to add at least another two years to your apprenticeship. I’ll have to check the manual—”

“Focus, Nick!” shouted Shirley, backing away slowly.

“Shooting it in the head isn’t going to be enough,” offered Marie. “It’s got a few more than usual. Also, try not to puncture the gaseous areas.”

“It’s all gaseous areas! Look at the poor, bloated son of a bitch.” Nick clicked the revolver’s chamber back into place.

The abomination continued to stumble forward but didn’t attack.

“Why isn’t it making a move?” asked Lopsang.

Marie had been wondering the same thing. Then, her hand shot out toward one of the graves. She pulled it back immediately, but her fingers squirmed on their own accord.

“Maybe it doesn’t like the light,” offered James.

Nick snorted. “It’s not a gremlin.”

A figure stepped out from behind the now destroyed mausoleum, clad in a dark red cloak. Beneath the hood, a silver skull obscured the wearer’s face. In their right hand was Marie’s staff, glowing purple with energy. The light surrounding the runic wood pulsed and jittered with effort. A thin strand of purple energy arched out toward the abomination and evaporated just as quickly.

Marie’s body felt nothing but the need to reach out and take her staff back; Never mind the powerful necromancer wielding it. She would get it back. There was no other way.

Go on, he can’t stop you, whispered the dusty old voice in her head.

Hello old friend, she thought back with less fear than she would have hoped.

“It’s not making a move, because I’ve asked it nicely,” said the robed man, his voice ringing off the marble of the tombs surrounding them.

Marie inched forward, smelling the stench of the abomination. If it wasn’t going to attack, this was her chance.

Shirley moved her pistol off the abomination and toward the necromancer.

“Don’t do that,” hissed Marie.

“Why?” asked Shirley. “Friend of yours?”

Marie staggered, momentarily distracted by the venom in Shirley’s voice. “A friend?” No, that hadn’t been it. She had seen what happened to people who pointed guns at her staff, and it didn’t end well.

The abomination stepped forward and swiped at Shirley in the momentary distraction. She rolled, avoiding the blow, but the creature’s thick hand caught the edge of her pistol and sent it spinning. There was a deafening report as the pistol went off when it hit the ground, firing. The slug hit a far-off mausoleum with a puff of white debris.

“You’ll shoot your eye out,” called the robed figure. They stepped forward until they were directly in line with the abomination.

Up close, Marie felt a sense of familiarity about the figure, but she couldn’t place it. She took a step back, despite the yearning in her hand to reach out and grab the staff. Time for that later, when we take it off their corpse. Marie winced, wishing she had thought anything else.

The abomination groaned and gurgled, shifting restlessly between soggy feet.

“My friend here is getting a little antsy. You must know that I can’t fully control it for much longer. Eight minds are running amok in that creature.”

Shirley recovered from her position on the ground and drew a second pistol. “Give us one reason why we don’t just put a bullet in your head and call it a day.

The figure laughed, the sound hollow through the silver mask. “Oh, I don’t think The Sixth Side is going to like the idea of a free-roaming abomination in a metropolitan area, do you?”

Shirley looked to Nick who shrugged. “The fastest way we get rid of that thing is to let the summoner do it.” He still had his massive revolvers pointed at the creature but with less conviction than before.

“Smart man, Mr. Ventner. Now, I’ll be plain with what I want and we can all get back to doing what we do best. Marie, I want you to come with me.”

Marie froze. What on earth did the necromancer want with her?

The robed figure held out the staff towards her, its purple light extending in tantalizing strands. “I can’t wield it the way you did. I’m not sure if anyone can.”

“Why shouldn’t we just kill you and take it off your corpse?”

The figure made a sound that echoed genuine hurt. “Let me show you something, might ease your mind a little.” The figure put a hand on the bottom of the mask and began to pull it off.

Before he could finish, Shirley fired. The bullet grazed the edge of the mask, skipping off the hard metal, but leaving a deep gouge as it went. The force of the shot bucked the figure’s head sideways and knocked them to the ground.

“What the hell are you thinking, Shirley?!” shouted Nick, backing away quickly.

Before she had a chance to answer, the abomination roared and charged forward with surprising swiftness.

Without thinking, James leveled the harpoon gun and loosed a bolt at one of the creature’s many heads. It found its mark, sticking in the soggy flesh. A ragged hiss followed the puncture as loose gasses escaped the confines of the corpse. Grey-green gas floated into the summer sun, creating a haze.

“Alright, so we’re doing this,” hissed Nick. “We’re going to want to poke as many holes in it as possible. Bleed the gas out before it can get near something that will accidentally ignite it.” He looked around the graveyard and was thankful to find that no one had lit candles outside the family tombs. Small blessings.

The abomination lumbered forward, its now sagging middle head stretched like a poorly scrambled egg. It ran for James and swung.

James tried to roll out of the way, but the rotten flesh caught him across the back and sent him sprawling forward onto the cobblestones.

The creature roared and lifted its meaty fists. A flash of the mountain cave and James’s mangled body beneath the strike of an angry yeti played in front of Nick’s eyes. Cold sweat dripped down his back and a shiver went through his body. Not again, he thought, forcefully. “Hey, big, dumb, and ugly!” Nick pulled the trigger on both pistols, ignoring his own advice and the advice of several doctors. The concussion of both guns firing at the same time rocked his shoulders back with a painful crunch that he knew he would feel for years to come.

Both bullets found their mark, tearing huge chunks of flesh and bone off the monstrous creature and causing it to stumble to one side. Gouts of black ichor sprayed out of what was presumably the thing’s neck. It coated the stones below in slick liquid. The air around the creature grew steadily hazier.

“What happened to releasing the gas slowly?” asked Shirley.

“I’m not the one who shot the person controlling it.”

Marie ducked forward and jabbed at the creature’s knee with her spear. The metal slid through the surface like it was barely there, finding no resistance and popping out the other side.

The creature roared in pain, stamping its foot and picking Marie up in the process. She flew through the air, catching a brief glimpse of Red Death as they got to their feet. Why did Shirley have to shoot them? The ground rushed up to meet her with alarming speed and knocked any further thoughts out of Marie’s consciousness.

When she opened her eyes, she was on her back. Warm liquid pooled behind her, and she hoped it was the creature’s ichor and not her own blood. Dazed, she looked out at the fight and saw the abomination moving slowly down the main thoroughfare, creating a swath of black blood and bits of decay behind it. Every few seconds, she could hear the deafening report of Nick and Shirley’s pistols. Lopsang tried to slash at the creature’s legs with the scythes he brought, but it wasn’t making a difference.

On Marie’s right, James was struggling to a stand, recovering his harpoon gun. It was miraculously still in working condition. James loaded another bolt into it, and Marie was dismayed to find that she couldn’t hear the hiss of the gas canister.

“Marie, our time is running short,” said a smooth voice from beside her. Red Death stood in their crimson robes, staring down at her from behind the black holes in the skull’s mask.

Marie tried to make out the figure’s eyes but couldn’t. The eyeholes were only darkness, like the glassy gaze of a great white. She knew that she should feel scared, or that she was in danger, but somehow she felt safe. Despite the immense pain in her arm, her hand still grasped for the staff that hung loosely at Red Death’s side.

“All in good time, but now, we need to go.” The figure reached out a hand to her.

Marie noticed the purple glow was back in the staff and the whisp of light was once more trailing off towards the abomination. So, Red Death was back in control. In the distance, she heard a mighty crash as the abomination broke through the cemetery’s main gate, bending metal and shattering stone.

The cemetery turned grayscale in an instant like someone had sucked color from the world through a straw. All at once, Marie saw them again, spirits milling about their daily business in the afterlife. Behind Red Death, a woman shook her head back and forth. Others were shouting in some incomprehensible mix of painful static and pointing at the far end of the cemetery. The lines of their faces were blurred in light, but the intention was clear enough. Whatever was happening in their resting place wasn’t something they wanted to witness.

The woman stepped out from behind Red Death and knelt next to Marie. Her face was obscured by mist, but Marie could feel her friendly smile. She spoke in warm static, the cadence of the words coming through, if not the meaning. Lightness rose in Marie’s chest, and she felt herself thinking clearly for the first time in days. She could see the staff for what it was, an object of desire, driving her back to the life that took everything.

The spirits left the world in an instant and color popped back. Marie turned to the abomination. “That’s going to hurt a lot of people.” Her voice sounded weak, but the words were strong.

“Yes, but you don’t have to be one of them. We have a lot of work left to do, trust me.”

“Go to hell.” Marie coughed, the sound deeper in her chest than she had expected.

“Listen to me, Marie, you need—”

“I think she said go to Hell,” said James from behind the figure. He pointed the harpoon gun at the robed figure’s chest and curled his finger around the trigger.

In the same moment, a massive explosion rocked the cemetery, knocking James from his feet, and creating a blinding wave of bright light. Heat and wind rocketed through the old tombs and Marie passed out.

Lazy necromancers were the bane of any studious practitioner, at least, that’s what the books Marie read purported. ‘Necromancy without proper attention is like handing a four-armed toddler six guns.’ While not particularly helpful, Marie had still found the words apt. Abominations were the perfect example of said metaphorical toddler. While practiced necromancers could raise them purposefully, most abominations were created by a simple slip of the mind. A necromancer focused on raising one body, lost concentration, and accidentally widened the range. It was an easy enough mistake to make, but not one likely to ever be forgotten.

A short lapse in attention resulted in groups of corpses reanimating together and animating as one messy pile of rot. Joints fused where they shouldn’t and the gasses of bodies in different stages of decomposition became one in a terrible union that assaulted every virtue possible. Single corpses were easy enough to control, but fused corpses carried the brain of every unlucky sap in the pile, making them significantly harder to manage. More often than not, abominations would smash through whatever was in front of them and wreak bloody havoc until they got too close to something sharp and burst.

Staring at the creature crawling out of the tomb, Marie was reminded in a hundred separate ways why she had given up necromancy in prison. There was nothing natural about the hulking form squeezing its way through broken stone. Every movement it made sent grimaces of pain through its many faces, stacked at odd angles across its body. One face had been stretched and bent where the creature’s head should have been and let out a bone-chilling moan that gurgled and sloshed like sewage water.

“You know what to do here, Nick?” Shirley’s hands held her pistol out before her, steady and strong.

Nick stood there, slack-jawed, watching the creature pull its way out of the earth. “That’s uh—” He spun the chamber of his revolver and started loading fresh shells. “That’s a really big one.”

The abomination made its way out of the tomb, shattering the marble on both sides as it pushed its way out onto the cemetery’s main path. One of the pillars cracked and crumbled, taking chunks of the ceiling with it. Cracks filled the air as the rest of the mausoleum crumbled under its own weight and collapsed. Glass shattered as the dome that had topped the structure shattered. White dust shot into the air, creating a miniature mushroom cloud. The abomination cried out in an expression of what could have been pride or pain.

James loaded a harpoon in the end of his rifle. “So, other than being really big, anything you can tell us about it?”

“Is that my harpoon gun?!” Nick looked away from the abomination momentarily, consternation replaced with anger.

“Is this really the time for that?” Marie looked around the cemetery trying to assess their options.

The abomination shambled forward, each step shaking the ground beneath its feet.

“At least it’s slow,” said Lopsang.

“Stealing from your master. That’s got to add at least another two years to your apprenticeship. I’ll have to check the manual—”

“Focus, Nick!” shouted Shirley, backing away slowly.

“Shooting it in the head isn’t going to be enough,” offered Marie. “It’s got a few more than usual. Also, try not to puncture the gaseous areas.”

“It’s all gaseous areas! Look at the poor, bloated son of a bitch.” Nick clicked the revolver’s chamber back into place.

The abomination continued to stumble forward but didn’t attack.

“Why isn’t it making a move?” asked Lopsang.

Marie had been wondering the same thing. Then, her hand shot out toward one of the graves. She pulled it back immediately, but her fingers squirmed on their own accord.

“Maybe it doesn’t like the light,” offered James.

Nick snorted. “It’s not a gremlin.”

A figure stepped out from behind the now destroyed mausoleum, clad in a dark red cloak. Beneath the hood, a silver skull obscured the wearer’s face. In their right hand was Marie’s staff, glowing purple with energy. The light surrounding the runic wood pulsed and jittered with effort. A thin strand of purple energy arched out toward the abomination and evaporated just as quickly.

Marie’s body felt nothing but the need to reach out and take her staff back; Never mind the powerful necromancer wielding it. She would get it back. There was no other way.

Go on, he can’t stop you, whispered the dusty old voice in her head.

Hello old friend, she thought back with less fear than she would have hoped.

“It’s not making a move, because I’ve asked it nicely,” said the robed man, his voice ringing off the marble of the tombs surrounding them.

Marie inched forward, smelling the stench of the abomination. If it wasn’t going to attack, this was her chance.

Shirley moved her pistol off the abomination and toward the necromancer.

“Don’t do that,” hissed Marie.

“Why?” asked Shirley. “Friend of yours?”

Marie staggered, momentarily distracted by the venom in Shirley’s voice. “A friend?” No, that hadn’t been it. She had seen what happened to people who pointed guns at her staff, and it didn’t end well.

The abomination stepped forward and swiped at Shirley in the momentary distraction. She rolled, avoiding the blow, but the creature’s thick hand caught the edge of her pistol and sent it spinning. There was a deafening report as the pistol went off when it hit the ground, firing. The slug hit a far-off mausoleum with a puff of white debris.

“You’ll shoot your eye out,” called the robed figure. They stepped forward until they were directly in line with the abomination.

Up close, Marie felt a sense of familiarity about the figure, but she couldn’t place it. She took a step back, despite the yearning in her hand to reach out and grab the staff. Time for that later, when we take it off their corpse. Marie winced, wishing she had thought anything else.

The abomination groaned and gurgled, shifting restlessly between soggy feet.

“My friend here is getting a little antsy. You must know that I can’t fully control it for much longer. Eight minds are running amok in that creature.”

Shirley recovered from her position on the ground and drew a second pistol. “Give us one reason why we don’t just put a bullet in your head and call it a day.

The figure laughed, the sound hollow through the silver mask. “Oh, I don’t think The Sixth Side is going to like the idea of a free-roaming abomination in a metropolitan area, do you?”

Shirley looked to Nick who shrugged. “The fastest way we get rid of that thing is to let the summoner do it.” He still had his massive revolvers pointed at the creature but with less conviction than before.

“Smart man, Mr. Ventner. Now, I’ll be plain with what I want and we can all get back to doing what we do best. Marie, I want you to come with me.”

Marie froze. What on earth did the necromancer want with her?

The robed figure held out the staff towards her, its purple light extending in tantalizing strands. “I can’t wield it the way you did. I’m not sure if anyone can.”

“Why shouldn’t we just kill you and take it off your corpse?”

The figure made a sound that echoed genuine hurt. “Let me show you something, might ease your mind a little.” The figure put a hand on the bottom of the mask and began to pull it off.

Before he could finish, Shirley fired. The bullet grazed the edge of the mask, skipping off the hard metal, but leaving a deep gouge as it went. The force of the shot bucked the figure’s head sideways and knocked them to the ground.

“What the hell are you thinking, Shirley?!” shouted Nick, backing away quickly.

Before she had a chance to answer, the abomination roared and charged forward with surprising swiftness.

Without thinking, James leveled the harpoon gun and loosed a bolt at one of the creature’s many heads. It found its mark, sticking in the soggy flesh. A ragged hiss followed the puncture as loose gasses escaped the confines of the corpse. Grey-green gas floated into the summer sun, creating a haze.

“Alright, so we’re doing this,” hissed Nick. “We’re going to want to poke as many holes in it as possible. Bleed the gas out before it can get near something that will accidentally ignite it.” He looked around the graveyard and was thankful to find that no one had lit candles outside the family tombs. Small blessings.

The abomination lumbered forward, its now sagging middle head stretched like a poorly scrambled egg. It ran for James and swung.

James tried to roll out of the way, but the rotten flesh caught him across the back and sent him sprawling forward onto the cobblestones.

The creature roared and lifted its meaty fists. A flash of the mountain cave and James’s mangled body beneath the strike of an angry yeti played in front of Nick’s eyes. Cold sweat dripped down his back and a shiver went through his body. Not again, he thought, forcefully. “Hey, big, dumb, and ugly!” Nick pulled the trigger on both pistols, ignoring his own advice and the advice of several doctors. The concussion of both guns firing at the same time rocked his shoulders back with a painful crunch that he knew he would feel for years to come.

Both bullets found their mark, tearing huge chunks of flesh and bone off the monstrous creature and causing it to stumble to one side. Gouts of black ichor sprayed out of what was presumably the thing’s neck. It coated the stones below in slick liquid. The air around the creature grew steadily hazier.

“What happened to releasing the gas slowly?” asked Shirley.

“I’m not the one who shot the person controlling it.”

Marie ducked forward and jabbed at the creature’s knee with her spear. The metal slid through the surface like it was barely there, finding no resistance and popping out the other side.

The creature roared in pain, stamping its foot and picking Marie up in the process. She flew through the air, catching a brief glimpse of Red Death as they got to their feet. Why did Shirley have to shoot them? The ground rushed up to meet her with alarming speed and knocked any further thoughts out of Marie’s consciousness.

When she opened her eyes, she was on her back. Warm liquid pooled behind her, and she hoped it was the creature’s ichor and not her own blood. Dazed, she looked out at the fight and saw the abomination moving slowly down the main thoroughfare, creating a swath of black blood and bits of decay behind it. Every few seconds, she could hear the deafening report of Nick and Shirley’s pistols. Lopsang tried to slash at the creature’s legs with the scythes he brought, but it wasn’t making a difference.

On Marie’s right, James was struggling to a stand, recovering his harpoon gun. It was miraculously still in working condition. James loaded another bolt into it, and Marie was dismayed to find that she couldn’t hear the hiss of the gas canister.

“Marie, our time is running short,” said a smooth voice from beside her. Red Death stood in their crimson robes, staring down at her from behind the black holes in the skull’s mask.

Marie tried to make out the figure’s eyes but couldn’t. The eyeholes were only darkness, like the glassy gaze of a great white. She knew that she should feel scared, or that she was in danger, but somehow she felt safe. Despite the immense pain in her arm, her hand still grasped for the staff that hung loosely at Red Death’s side.

“All in good time, but now, we need to go.” The figure reached out a hand to her.

Marie noticed the purple glow was back in the staff and the whisp of light was once more trailing off towards the abomination. So, Red Death was back in control. In the distance, she heard a mighty crash as the abomination broke through the cemetery’s main gate, bending metal and shattering stone.

The cemetery turned grayscale in an instant like someone had sucked color from the world through a straw. All at once, Marie saw them again, spirits milling about their daily business in the afterlife. Behind Red Death, a woman shook her head back and forth. Others were shouting in some incomprehensible mix of painful static and pointing at the far end of the cemetery. The lines of their faces were blurred in light, but the intention was clear enough. Whatever was happening in their resting place wasn’t something they wanted to witness.

The woman stepped out from behind Red Death and knelt next to Marie. Her face was obscured by mist, but Marie could feel her friendly smile. She spoke in warm static, the cadence of the words coming through, if not the meaning. Lightness rose in Marie’s chest, and she felt herself thinking clearly for the first time in days. She could see the staff for what it was, an object of desire, driving her back to the life that took everything.

The spirits left the world in an instant and color popped back. Marie turned to the abomination. “That’s going to hurt a lot of people.” Her voice sounded weak, but the words were strong.

“Yes, but you don’t have to be one of them. We have a lot of work left to do, trust me.”

“Go to hell.” Marie coughed, the sound deeper in her chest than she had expected.

“Listen to me, Marie, you need—”

“I think she said go to Hell,” said James from behind the figure. He pointed the harpoon gun at the robed figure’s chest and curled his finger around the trigger.

In the same moment, a massive explosion rocked the cemetery, knocking James from his feet, and creating a blinding wave of bright light. Heat and wind rocketed through the old tombs and Marie passed out.