Mask of Humanity

Nicolai finished unscrewing the metal lid capping the jar containing the undead head, placing it aside. A strong chemical smell rose from the opening. The head stared up at him as he carefully dipped the very tip of a finger into the liquid and then quickly pulled out, a drop glistened on his skin.

It didn’t burn or sting or show other signs of being dangerous, it was just a cool, thick liquid with a strong smell. Nicolai considered the logistics of what he wanted to do, then, shrugging, he reached up and shoved his forearm in, grabbed the head by its hair, and pulled it out.

It dangled in the air before him, spinning slowly around, the thick liquid sluicing off of it.

‘Gaaah!’ it gasped, spitting liquid out even as the same drained from the bottom of its neck. He held it there a moment, letting the liquid run back into the jar.

Then Nicolai placed it on the table and turned it to face him. The head was gasping and spitting, eyes rolling.

‘Eikano ona?’ it croaked, blinking and scrunching its eyes to get the liquid out.

‘What? Common?’ Nicolai tried, then he felt a tingle on the back of his hand and saw his Mark flare with light.

The head finished blinking its eyes clear, and stared up at him. ‘What are you?’ it croaked in exactly the same tone and inflection. For an instant Nicolai heard the same words it had spoken before, then his Mark tingled again and he heard it in common, a jarring moment of double.

‘I’m Nicolai,’ said Nicolai. He was pretty sure his Mark had just translated its words.

‘What’s a Nicolai?’ it asked, its voice less hoarse. But it was still a deep, scratchy voice, like it had been smoking a pack-a-day of cigarettes its whole life.

‘I’m… human.’

‘Oh.’ It frowned, seeming confused.

‘What are you?’

Its eyes darted around, then back to him. They moved down, and he followed them, seeing its gaze land on the golden Mark on the back of his hand. It wore a thoughtful frown, now. Then it grimaced. He realised it was trying to smile.

‘My name is Kleos,’ Kleos said, in the friendliest tone a severed head could manage. ‘You look like you could use a friend, eh?’ It wiggled its eyebrows desperately.

‘You look like you could use a friend, too,’ Nicolai replied. ‘And a pair of arms. And some legs. A body, perhaps.’ He wiggled his own eyebrows.

‘Yeah, well done,’ Kleos said, giving him a sullen look. ‘Look at you. Very clever. How long have you been in this place?’

He frowned at the head. ‘Not very long.’

‘Ah.’ Kleos smiled, and its eyes darted to the side, looking behind him.

Nicolai twisted to follow its gaze, but there was nothing there.

‘Going to be night, soon,’ said Kleos, and its eyes flicked to the battered skeleton on the ground. ‘Why’d you leave him like that?’

‘Like what?’ asked Nicolai, confused.

Kleos grinned, showing off yellowed teeth and receding gums. ‘You don’t know shit about anything, do you? Had that Mark, what, a day? Less? Been here for even shorter.’

Nicolai was starting to see the head less as just an interesting oddity, and more as what it was. A being which had aims and a history of its own. A being which was currently trying to show off the knowledge it held, because it was aware of how badly he needed that knowledge. A being which could be very helpful to him. A being which should be treated with wariness, and respect.

Slowly, Nicolai settled down into a squat, until his face was level with the head on the table. He gave it a slow nod. ‘It could be I need a friend,’ he admitted.

‘There you go. You’re right, by the way. I do want arms, and legs, and a body. Very much.’ Kleos’ tone had turned more serious. ‘There are ways that one could be procured, but I can’t exactly go and get it myself, can I?’ it prompted, expectant.

‘Clearly not,’ said Nicolai. ‘And I want to know everything you know.’

He stared at Kleos and Kleos stared at him. Then they both smiled, and he was pretty sure neither of them meant it, but both of them were pleased. An agreement had been made.

‘Why does it matter that it will soon be night?’ he asked.

‘Too late,’ said Kleos. Its eyes were behind him again, and he twisted and this time saw what it was looking at. The torch on the wall, which he now recognised had changed colour. From the dull orange of earlier on it had graded to a duller red. Nicolai hadn’t believed there was any reason to pay attention to the light source, had allowed the torches to fade into the background. A mistake.

‘That’s going to go out any minute now and you’ll be in the dark. You don’t look well adapted to pitch black.’ Kleos’ eyes darted around. ‘Close the door. There’s some keys in that cabinet,’ it said, indicating a cabinet in the corner with its eyes. ‘Lock the door. You’ll have a little time before they come, but your friend there,’ it looked to the skeleton, ‘is going to reanimate pretty soon. There’ll be some light then. Kill it quietly. Then remain as quiet as you can through the night. If they hear you they’ll keep coming until they break the door down.’

Its words were clipped with an infectious urgency, and Nicolai moved as it spoke. He wrenched the first drawer of the cabinet open. Nothing. In the next he found a keyring with three keys.

The torch crackled, sputtered, died, and his world went black.

Nicolai felt his way through the darkness across the room. He found a wall, slid along it and bumped into the door. He pulled on it, trying to be quiet, but it let out a thunk as it closed. He tried the first key but it was clearly too big for the lock. The second one went in and he turned it but nothing happened.

There was a flare of light and he saw a glowing blue wisp slither under the door and into the room. For a moment he was distracted, his eyes following the wisp, but he refocused, its letting him get the final key in and he turned it, hearing the click of a lock. He tried the handle just in case, and the door didn’t open.

‘Smash its skull again,’ hissed Kleos, the head illuminated by the blue light as the wisp darted towards the remains of the skeleton. Nicolai slid past the talking head, grabbing his polearm as he went, his eyes on the skeleton as the wisp sunk into its skull. Bone clattered and rattled, the skull knitting itself back together.

Nicolai hovered above it, holding the hammer upside-down, ready. As soon as the skull finished repairing itself he thrust the hammer down and the skull was smashed to pieces once more with a satisfying crunch.

The blue light flew back out and moved in a circle, seeming confused, then it fled back under the door and away.

Listening carefully, he could hear rattles and bumps, no doubt the other skeletons putting themselves back together.

Nicolai felt his way across the room until he found the table and his hands groped blindly across it until he found flesh, then he grabbed Kleos by the hair and retreated across the room.

‘I can kill those skeletons out there again, easy,’ he whispered, a little annoyed. It had gotten him worried for nothing.

‘They aren’t the problem,’ Kleos hissed back to him, ‘they’re nothing. It’s the night time clean up crew you ought to be worried about. You might be able to hold them off if there was more of you and you had a light. But as it is, they’ll end you.’

‘How often is night?’ Nicolai whispered, but Kleos shushed him.

‘Quiet, they’re out there.’

Nicolai fell silent and his ears strained as he listened. Amidst the clatters there was now another sound, something he could barely hear. Voices? It sounded a little like a hundred tiny voices, whispering nothing. A dark sussurrus that grew, then invaded the room and crept around the walls.

There was a sudden ratting, deafening in the quiet, followed by a thump. Something was trying to open the door. Another thump, heavier, then another. Heavy knocks on the door. The handle rattled again, and he heard the door shaking, as though a strong man were trying to shove it open against the lock. The noises stopped for a moment, then there was a solid knock, knock, knock that shook the door. Nicolai placed Kleos down beside him to grip the polearm tight, rising to his feet to stand ready in the dark. The door jerked and it sounded like it might burst open at any moment. He breathed as quietly as he could manage, though he didn’t see how any could hear him over the clamour.

The head was right. His odds wouldn’t be good in the dark. Was there anything he could burn in here? He might be able to strike sparks with the knife on the stone. He recalled a wooden bed shoved against one wall, rotting sheets atop it, and kneeling down he crawled slowly around the room, clinging close to the wall so he could remain aware of where he was. He moved very slowly, worried about bumping into something and making a noise. He held the polearm against him. The pounding on the door urged him to hurry and he struggled to keep his movements still and careful.

His hand found something, and feeling at it he felt a piece of bone. He had a sudden, random urge to examine it, but that reminded him of another possibility. His Mark made light when he examined things. Perhaps he could use that, if he needed to, but not now. They would likely see the light. He must be near to the skeleton and bumping into it would make noise, so he started heading into the middle of the room, trying to work out which way to go to get around it.

He was in the middle of the room and heading slowly towards where he thought the bed was when the pounding abruptly ended. Nicolai froze, listening intently. He could still hear the dark whispering, but it was fading.

Nicolai’s tense muscles slowly relaxed. He completed his crawl, reaching the bed, still going as quietly as possible. Careful and slow, he dragged the sheets off one handed, holding his polearm in the other, managing to avoid any noise. They stank of ancient mildew and mold, leading him to suspect that his thoughts of igniting them were perhaps overly optimistic. He balled them up anyway and took them with him as he retraced his crawl around the room, until his searching fingers found Kleos.

Nicolai didn’t speak because he didn’t know if it was safe to do so. Better to wait and see if the head would speak. It knew more than him of the goings-on in this place.

After some time the whispering faded entirely.

‘They’re gone,’ said Kleos, still quiet. ‘But they’ll be back, now and then. Best we don’t speak until morning.’

Nicolai considered that. ‘I’m going to get some rest,’ he muttered, as much to himself as Kleos, and rolled onto his side.

He squeezed the blankets into a pillow, putting it under his head, held the polearm tight against him, and closed his eyes. The moment he did so and finally tried to relax he felt a bone deep weariness from everything that had happened.

The weariness told him that he should be able to sleep immediately, but he couldn’t ignore the faint scrapes and bumps from the skeletons outside, and he simply lay there on the floor, ever more tired, and began to think he wouldn’t sleep at all. The stink of the rotting blankets invaded his nose and he gave up on his pillow, putting it aside and placing his head on the stone.

He lay there and tried not to think about anything. In time he dozed, half-awake, half-asleep. Thus began a confusing, sweaty night of strange dreams and fitful moments of waking where he would hear whispers, and the door would rattle and creak as something tried to open it, followed by heavy, ominous knocks.

Dreams merged with reality and wrapped him tight, threatening and close.