Terry felt like he’d walked for hours by the time the little dead man, Danal, helped him find a road. It was a wide, hard packed dirt affair running through a cleared path in the woods. It had probably begun as a game trail like the Natchez Trace back home. The fact that Terry hadn’t seen it from his hilltop vantage point meant it was either extremely well hidden, or further away than he’d thought. He saw signs of cart wheels and horseshoes as soon as he stepped foot on the thing. He glanced over his shoulder at the foul smelling little man he carried.

  “Well, which way?” He asked. He realized it was the first time he’d spoken to the dead man.

  The little creature looked left and right and seemed to think far longer than necessary.

  “Uh, right?” Danal said.

  “You don’t sound sure.”

  “Don’t question me.” The little man said.

  Terry shrugged, which was not easy with a small corpse on his back. He started trudging up the road. Terry hoped the little jerks that had done this to him would give him his saddlebags back after this. They were only marginally lighter than Danal, but they didn’t smell so bad. They also contained, if he remembered correctly, some beef jerky he’d stashed. He’d need something to eat eventually.

  After a long while of walking, Terry spoke over his shoulder again.

  “So where exactly am I taking you?” He asked.

  “FINALLY the boy decides to start thinking.” Danal said. “There are several burial sites where we dump-ENTOMB our dead. You’re taking me to each one in turn until you find one where I’ll be accepted.”

  Terry’s head jerked up.

  “Are you telling me it’s full of the talking dead? You’re basically going to have roommates?!”

  Terry felt a cold and entirely too firm hand smack him on the side of the head.

  “Respect for the dead, boy!”

  “Fine. Sorry. Humans just don’t do that. When we’re gone, we’re gone.”

  “Well,” Danal said, “we’re different. We don’t actually give up the ghost until the body is too rotted to hold it. Parts stop working, sure, but we’re stuck here till the body can’t hold on any more. Burial helps with that.”

  Terry swallowed hard. The idea of being awake but dead, then shoved in the ground and buried wasn’t something he’d ever been afraid of. Well, there was a first time for everything, he guessed. The living dead gave him the heeby geebies.

  The journey took several hours, and Danal kept up a running commentary on his minor aches and pains from life. He didn’t feel them any more, but he remembered them fondly. He also had opinions on almost every race of what Terry knew as “Fantastics”. Terry guessed he’d have to stop thinking of them like that now. He was in their world.

  “So racism is a thing here too?” Terry asked testily, interrupting some choice thoughts Danal had about gnomes.

  “It’s not racism if it’s true.” The tiny dead man said.

  Terry stopped in the road and instinctively tried to turn and face him. All he did was spin in the road a few times before finally just looking over his shoulder.

  “Listen to me, you horrid little man.” Terry said. “I may be stuck doing this, but I am NOT going to put up with your bigoted talk any more. I WILL lay down, face up, in the river until sunrise tomorrow and sacrifice my manhood JUST to teach you a lesson. Do you understand me?”

  Something in Terry’s tone of voice must have sunk in because when Danal spoke again, it was a bit more meekly.

  “Right. Sorry. I thought most humans hated other races.” He said.

  Terry squared his shoulders and started walking at a brisk pace.

  “Yeah, well I’m not most humans.” Was all he said.

  “Huh. Well aren’t you hero material then.”

  That warning didn’t shut Danal up though. He had plenty of reasons to hate individuals too, and he told Terry about them all. In detail.

  By the time Danal directed Terry to a lane leading off to the right, it was midday and Terry saw an ancient, stone church. It was built like a church at least. There was greenery carved around the double doors and a foliate face over it. Greenman worship. Terry would have to get used to that too. Off to the left was a graveyard surrounded by a low stone wall. Terry thought it was picturesque.

  He actually pulled his phone out and took a photo. Maybe he could magically charge the thing some day. With that thought, he turned the thing off and pocketed it again.

  He walked around to the graveyard without prodding and found a shovel leaned against the wall of the church. Or maybe it was a spade. Terry wasn’t sure. It had a pointed end though, so it would work. He walked out to the center of the graveyard and looked around. There was no where obvious. He looked over his shoulder.

  “Any particular spot suit your fancy?” He asked the dead old man.

  Danal pointed over Terry’s shoulder and directed him to a shaded corner with no headstones. The tree was outside of the wall, so hopefully the roots wouldn’t be a problem. Knowing how his day was going so far though, Terry didn’t have much hope of that. He walked over to the corner and looked around. There was nothing to say if someone was buried in the corner already, so Terry just grabbed the shovel in both hands.

  “Let’s be done with this, then.” He said, and stabbed the point of the shovel into the ground.

  As soon as he did, a loud thrum seemed to come from the ground where the shovel hit, and ripple outward. Terry looked around confused for a moment before he heard Danal say “Uh-oh.”

  A corpse in a wooden mask with a ponytail dressed like a monk climbed from a grave not far from him. Terry found himself backed up against the surrounding wall of the yard as hands, heads, and a few feet erupted out of graves and began dragging bodies with them. Usually.

  The wooden mask fell off of the corpse. Its lips were dried and pulled back from the teeth and Terry nearly screamed when the mouth opened and a sound came out.

  “Hi. I'm Shal.” It said. Terry opened his mouth but only a gurgle came out.

  “NOOOO!” Screamed the next corpse. So did the next. And the next. And the next.

  Before Terry knew what he was doing, he’d pulled the shovel out of the ground and thrown it like a javelin at a dead woman that was almost completely free of the ground.

  The head came off, but was still screaming “NO” as it flew through the air.

  “You might want to move on.” The monk corpse said to him calmly.

  Terry didn’t realize he was running down the road until he was a good distance away from the church.

  “Dang, boy. You’re a fast one! You might get this done by tonight!” Danal said as Terry slowed again to a brisk walk. That necromancer in Yazoo City had been about the most unpleasant thing he’d ever dealt with. He wondered if THIS was punishment for forsaking his vows.

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  The sun was setting by the time Terry reached the next church. It was on the outskirts of a village that he looked at longingly. He didn’t dare go near with a dead man on his back. He had fished around in his pockets of holding and found a protein packed candy bar he had stuffed in there some time in the past. Current Terry thanked past Terry for his kindness before downing the thing. He’d drank from the river near by and it was the cleanest water he’d ever tasted.

  But now he shuffled up to the church, and there was no graveyard.

  “Dude, seriously?!” He said over his shoulder. Danel looked around.

  “Welp,” the wee folk said, “under the altar it is.”

  This was a much larger church than the last one, and Terry was extremely concerned about someone being there and walking in. He didn’t know when services were. He carefully opened the door and the creaking sound it let out made him wince. He slipped in quietly and shut the door.

  The interior of the church was dark so Terry pulled his sword out. It gave off a clean, steady, white light and he walked down the aisle to the altar. It was made of a dark, rich wood and was carved like a wide tree with a face in the center of the foliage. It was beautiful. Terry felt along the carving and it was smooth. The wood had been sanded to the point that he couldn’t feel the grains.

  “Push it back, then.” Danal said. “We don’t have all night.”

  Terry nodded. He didn’t want to move this thing. He was afraid of breaking it. He gave it a test shove and it moved easily for him. He laid his sword down and it continued it’s steady glow. He pushed the altar back and beneath were just more stones like the ones lining the floor. When he tested the stones, they wouldn’t move. Reaching over, Terry picked up his sword and traced the blade tip around the largest stone he could find. The point went between the stones and sliced cleanly. Once done, Terry pried the stone up with his blade. He took it in both hands and lifted the thing up and set it aside. There, beneath the stone, was an even older corpse of one of the wee folk. It still had its hat and coat on, but had a long beard attached to a head that looked like a skull wrapped in leather.

  Terry leaped up and took a step back. He glanced over his shoulder at Danal.

  “Oliver?” The dead man asked over Terry’s shoulder.

  The buried body’s head snapped up at the mention of the name.

  “Danal?!” It said. “You finally kicked the bucket, huh?”

  “This is great!” Terry said. “You guys know each other! You can bunk up!”

  “Not happening.” Oliver said, and Terry blinked.

  “Why not?” He asked. Oliver looked at Danal, though there were no eyes in the sockets.

  “Bastard owes me ten gold and never paid me back.”

  Terry just stared at him.

  “It was FIVE gold and I gave it back with interest, you old goat!” Danal shouted into the hole in the floor.

  Terry laughed. It wasn’t funny, but he laughed anyway.

  “YOU CAN’T SPEND GOLD!” He found himself shouting. “You’re dead and buried! What does it matter if he didn’t pay it back?!”

  The buried corpse managed to lift itself up on its hands to look up at Terry with its empty sockets. It moved like old stop motion.

  “It’s the principal of the thing, damn it.”

  Terry felt his eyebrow twitch.

  “Dang it, Danal.” He said. Terry lifted the stone over his head and stared at Oliver.

  “You might want to lay down.” Terry told the buried Gentry.

  Oliver moved far more quickly than Terry thought he could and was laying down before Terry slammed the rock back into place.

  “Not my fault.” Danal said. “There was no way I could know he was buried here.”

  Terry sighed and marched out of the church. He stood on the hard packed path outside the door and took a moment to let himself be angry. He breathed deeply and then looked over his shoulder.

  “Ok,” he said, feeling a bit better, “where to now?”

  The next church had a gambling buddy of Danal’s under the altar that refused to even look at the little dead man. Right before he left, Terry noticed a small sack sitting on the front pew with a note tied to it. It had his name on it written crudely in charcoal. Inside was dried, cured meat and a banana. It wasn’t much but by this point, Terry was famished. He set out with renewed vigor.

  Terry had no way of knowing how long he’d walked, but he knew it had been hours. The sun wasn’t up, but there was a look to the sky that made Terry begin to sweat. Time was growing short. He stopped at the fourth church Danal pointed out and gave it a doubtful look. It had a graveyard. Terry let himself through the wooden gate in the stone wall and quietly made his way around to the yard. There was, again, a shovel waiting.

  Terry put the point of the shovel into the ground and waited. There was no thrum. No ripple of bad vibes. Nothing started crawling up. There was no strangely friendly monk. He sighed with relief and scooped up the first load of dirt.

  After the fourth scoop, Terry became aware of a rising murmur. He looked to the road and there was an orange glow lighting up the leaves of the trees along one side. Terry planted the shovel and ran to get a better look.

  “Ah dang.” Danal said and Terry looked at him in confusion.

  “What?!” Terry said.

  “I think news has gotten around. Someone sent runners or something.”

  Terry stared hard. He could make out a mass of people. They carried torches. Several had pitchforks.

  “Huh.” Terry said. He felt oddly calm. “I’ve never been run off by an actual torch-and-pitchfork mob before.”

  “I have. I’d start running. We’ve got one more option before the sun comes up, boy.”

  Terry didn’t waste his breath answering. He just leaped over the short stone wall and ran as fast as he could.

  Aloysius was a curious horse, in both senses of the word. He was both a strange horse AND he had a natural curiosity that had gotten him into trouble on more than one occasion. This occasion in particular had him stuck in a magic bog near the River Skai. His feet were exactly where they had been at sunset and he was, it seemed, sinking. Just very slowly. Aloysius was also an optimistic horse. He was still within sight of the road and surely someone would be along any time.

  Speaking of, Aloysius looked up as he heard the rapid footfalls of someone coming. He craned his neck forward and saw a distant shape wearing a big, flappy coat coming closer at a fantastic speed. As it got closer, Aloysius decided to call out.

  “Excuse me! I seem to be. . .”

  The man, at least he thought it was a man, kept running without looking. He was in a hurry it seemed.

  “Right. I’ll just wait here then. I’m sure you’ll be back.”

  Aloysius blinked as he felt the mud creep up his calf muscles as he dropped another inch. He laughed at his own position.

  “I mean, I can’t do much else? Can I?”

  Yes. He’d wait. The man would come back and he would surely help a friendly horse out of a bog.

  Probably.

  Terry skidded to a stop. He was on a cliff overlooking a vast plain below him. The cliff had scant grass on it and vague mound shapes all over. He looked over his shoulder.

  “YES!” The old corpse shouted. “This is it! You’ve got minutes left!”

  Terry looked around but there was no shovel. He groaned. This was never going to be easy, but of course it would be down to the wire. Terry dropped to his knees and began digging frantically with his hands. The earth was densely packed and hard, but Terry wasn’t soft himself. He summoned more strength and started ripping huge clumps of soil up by the handful. He tossed it not too far away and eventually had a pit about three feet deep.

  “Good enough!” Danal said, and climbed over Terry’s shoulder. The feeling of the rotted skin and clothing was sickening. The smell of the old man was worse. Danal fell face first into the hole and curled into a fetal position. Right as Terry grabbed the first hand full of dirt to start throwing it in, the old man shouted “WAIT!”

  Terry froze, but all Danal did was pluck the white owl feather from his cap and hold it up.

  “Give it to Humphrey or this was all for nothing! Ya did good, boy.”

  Terry snatched the feather, stuffed it in his coat pocket, and began tossing dirt in. He rose as the last clod settled. He looked, the sun was almost risen. He started jumping on the mound he’d made to pack it in better. He had it just about level when the sun rose over the plains and Terry saw his first yellow skied sunrise. He just stood there and watched it.

  “I did it.” He said. It felt so good to say, he sighed and said it again. “I did it, Delores.”

  He felt exhausted and he was completely alone again.

  There was a slight rustling, and when Terry turned, his bags were there in the grass. Standing atop it, was Humphrey of the Wee Folk. Terry slowly walked over and dropped to his knees in front of the little man.

  “You left the food?” Terry asked between ragged breaths.

  “I did. Couldn’t have you passing out and losing your balls, could we?”

  Terry went to say something, but Humphrey spoke again.

  "We also spread the word of what you were doing. Couldn't make it too easy, could we?"

  Terry just stared at him. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to have learned something about humility from this, or what. All he’d learned was to avoid these little men like the plague. He considered swatting Humphrey away, but that was another lesson Terry had learned. Don’t mess with these guys.

  Instead, Terry reached into his pocket and pulled the white feather out. He looked at it for a moment before holding it out to Humphrey. The little man smirked and took it, twisting it in his hand and examining it.

  “Huh. Even got the feather.” Humphrey said. “I’m impressed.”

  Terry’s curiosity got the better of him.

  “What do you do with them?” He asked.

  Humphrey arched an eyebrow.

  “There are some things, my lad, you do not talk about in public.”

  Terry just nodded. He was ready to lay down and sleep right there.

  “So, you succeeded in your task which, I won’t lie, is pretty impressive.” Humphrey said, sticking his thumbs behind his suspenders. “As such, I’ve stuffed a bag of gold in your travel bags there.”

  Terry’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.

  “AND,” the little man added, “what I was meant to direct you to? Head back down the road the way you came. You’ll know it when you see it. Don’t sleep too late. With this, my task is complete. I’ll see you around, haircut.”

  With that, the little man leaped into the air and just faded away. Terry fell forward, face first into his saddlebags. He faded away too, into dreams of Delores.