Kingdom In Decay

Title: A Kingdom in Decay

Setting tags: Undead[F]/Explorer[M], unpolished concept draft, shy romance, worldbuilding exploration, adventure, fighting giant monsters, Science!

Smut tags: Vanilla, skeleton googirl anatomy, kissing, leg-lock, casual nudity, corset piercings.

Length: Over 39,000 words.

Table of Contents: 1. Old Times 2. Explorer 3. Codebreaking 4. Awakening 5. New World 6. Spiderjockies 7. Searching 8. Message from the Past 9. Into the Mines 10. Wivres 11. Doubts 12. Crown Jewels 13. Minecart Ride 14. Supper 15. High Moon 16. Return 17. Preparations 18. Reassembly 19. From Nature 20. Completion

Chapter 1. Old Times

+ The Plague +

The guard's expression was grim, and his voice gruff. "All for naught, my liege. We've burned so many bodies, but the sickness still spreads. The druids have their strongest blessings upon the bathhouses." His armor hung loose on his once-strong body. Not so long ago he had been one of his king's mighty men. Now, much like the rest of the kingdom, he was racked with hunger pains and the needling of a mysterious disease. "The scholars say that it's carried by gnats and rats, that's how..." he coughed into a rag. "How it keeps getting into places. I... my liege, it's all the men can do to keep riots from breaking out. People are fleeing into the wilderness, often without any supplies. We've secured the gates of the capital, but they keep finding ways."

Sighing heavily, the king rubbed his weary eyes. Eighteen months ago, he had been the undisputed ruler of a green and pleasant land. As per a mutual-assistance pact, he had pledged his army to the aid of a noble cause. A religious war, but worthy all the same. The enemy could not hope to defeat them on the field of battle. So had it been, but the witch-queen was vile and clever. "Is there any progress on a cure?"

"My liege..." the guard shuffled in place uncertainly. "They... the mages' guild recalled their members. The Grand Magus is preparing to leave by-"

"He is my Grand Magus, not theirs!" shouted the king. "And he will not leave while my people perish in the streets from this foul witchcraft!"

The guard coughed into the rag again. "Beg pardon, my liege, but he's the one opening the portal for the rest. I... my liege, I've barely enough men to keep order in the streets, I couldn't ask them to stop him by force. The mages have their powers, and-"

Rising from his seat, the king growled, "It was by witchery that this evil was done, and I'll not let the mages leave with the last hopes we have of seeing it made right!" Storming toward the door, he threatened, "They'll solve that damn cipher, or I'll run them all through!"

Wincing, the guard followed after his liege through the castle's corridors. Grand were they, of marble and stone, with windows of stained glass that looked out on a kingdom in decay. Smoke rose from mass graves. In the town square, rioters fought over food and water. The distant pealing of bells from every corner of the city never seemed to end. While the capital had it the worst, every corner of the once prosperous kingdom suffered from a sickness that seemed to gnaw at the very soul.

Throwing open the door to the mages' tower, the king stomped in with his hand upon the hilt of his sword. "Greven! Come out, you miserable greybeard! Your head must be as pointed as your hat if you believe I'll let you run away while my daughter dies!" A crackle of lightning discharged from a nearby bookshelf. It would have electrocuted the king had he not smelled the discharge and rolled forward at the last second. He was not as young as his glory days, but still fancied himself man enough to slay one wizard if needs must. "Show yourself, Greven!"

With visible reluctance, the Grand Magus appeared on the balcony above. "My liege, I regret to inform you that-"

"You'll regret a damn lot more if you and your coven of bespectacled fruitcakes don't find a cure for this pox!" shouted the king. Behind him, the guard staggered through the door and coughed into his rag.

"It is no pox, my liege," replied the wizard with a shake of his beard. "It is a plague. One not of the flesh, but of the soul. It is not a mortal plight, it is a curse, and you know the source."

The king glared daggers up at him. They had been adventuring comrades in their youths, and were used to each other's eccentricities. He would still kill the mage if he tried to run away. Just like old times. "You mean to say that some pale witch is murdering my people? She wouldn't dare to show her face in my realm, not after the druthering our armies gave her."

"That is the problem, my leige." Greven folded his hands together, the sleeves of his robes meeting. "Your army, along with those of many other kingdoms, participated in an ill-advised holy war against the Lady Tyrannix. Her undead legions were badly mauled, her lands were deeply invaded, and reports hold that several of her underlords died by the blades of noble champions." The wizard nodded sagely. "Had the prophet who invoked that holy war not been such a... well, and had the Lady Tyrannix not done what we all know she did, and had the coalition force maintained cohesion, it is highly probable that she would have been ousted."

"I should have gone myself," grunted the king, hand still on the hilt of his sword. "Never trust a temple boy to do the work of a warrior."

The Grand Magus nodded. "Of course, my leige. Had you been present, surely the campaign would have ended in glorious victory. I have all confidence in your martial skills." Well, he did while the king was in the same room as him. However, the Lady Tyrannix was a legendary combatant, whose skill with a rapier or poisoned arrow was second only to the pleasure she took in shredding her enemies with the ravening claws of her ever-flowing armor. "Your presence would surely have maintained morale amid the coalition after she, ah... vivisected the prophet."

"But I wasn't there, so they fled," he huffed. "From the threshold of victory, my warriors ran! I have no one to blame but myself. I should have gone, damn that prophet and his schemes. All for naught, I say!" The king shook his head. "But time is short. My daughter lies upon her deathbed, and you must save her. You must save all my kingdom, Greven, because I... I've not yet seen a way to do it by blade."

With a short glance over his shoulder, the wizard put his hands on the railing. "My leige, surely you have noticed the runes appearing on the bodies of the dead and dying."

"Yes, the cipher," growled the king. "Have you cracked it?"

"That's just it. We can't, because we're mages. It reviles the mind of any whose blood runs with mana." His eyes unfocused for a moment. "Brilliant, really. I mean, it has always been known that she possessed tremendous abilities, but to engineer such a plague and then tool it to be incomprehensible to those who have hope of using magic to cure it is truly innovative."

"Fine, so she's a clever witch," snarled the king. "Surely you've an... an assistant or something, someone who isn't a mage, that can look at it?" Behind him, the guard coughed heavily into his rag and leaned against the wall for support.

The wizard nodded, then looked back over his shoulder again. "We have, but... it is like asking a deaf man to recognize music. He can sense the vibrations, he can even pick out some patterns, but he lacks the senses to receive the details. Worse, he lacks the experience to know what one piece of music is versus another." Shaking his beard again, he delivered the bad news. "This project cannot be completed in time to save your daughter, or your land. We can only hope to stop the plague from spreading to the souls of other kingdoms."

"You'll not leave here alive if that's your attitude!" shouted the king as he began to climb a bookcase toward the balcony. "I'll have your head, and then I'll take my army to give this witch the seeing-to she deserves, and-"

A dull, metallic thud echoed through the tower. The armored guard lay very still in a heap next to the door, his coughing rag pressed against his face. All was very quiet. Both the king and the wizard looked. For a moment they too were very still.

Greven said quietly, "I know not why she chose your lands, my liege. Perhaps because your army did the most damage, or even because you are so far from her lands and she wished to show the extent of her horrid reach. But her curse is upon your kingdom. It is growing, gnawing at the bones of your people. As more and more fall dead, many will remain unburied. From those who have been burned, we detect dangerous concentrations of the illness' astral signature in the smoke. It is possible that it will form clouds of death over this land, and... and more worryingly, we have observed that those who die do not decay. The runes preserve them."

The king hauled himself atop the bookcase. It was only another jump and a pull-up for him to be within sword's reach of the wizard. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Greven tapped his fingers together. "It means that... Lady Tyrannix may well intend to replenish her ranks with the dead of your empire, my liege. If you continue to burn the bodies, they will form clouds that will descend like a fog of death upon other lands. If you leave them intact, or bury them in mass graves, they will remain for her when she comes."

"And you have given up on saving my people, my land, my daughter?" snarled the king. "Have you given up too on your own life, Grand Magus?"

The wizard looked over his shoulder, and made a gesture of farewell in that direction. "My liege, I have served you faithfully for many decades." He sighed heavily. "I will remain here to die with you, if you must have another sacrifice for your funeral pyre. The portal has closed. My pupils have escaped with the knowledge of this plague of souls, and I fervently hope that the Mages' Guild will be able to circumscribe it." His grey beard waggled as he looked down at the king. "Abnar, old friend, I promised your daughter I would begin to teach her of astronomy and quintessence lines for her birthday. I do not think she will live through the next month to be officially celebrated as a young woman."

"I won't accept that!"

"'To reject reality without the means to modify it is madness,'" quoted the old mage. "My king, go to your daughter. Spend this time with her. Cherish it as best you can."

The king hauled himself up onto the balcony so he could glare right into the Magus' eyes. "While my people die of plague and starvation?"

"There is nothing we can do for them."

Shaking his head, King Abnar grabbed the wizard by his sleeve and hauled him toward a door. "Maybe... maybe... but we'll do one last thing. With me, Greven. I need one final trick."

The mage sighed, letting the king pull him along as though they were both many decades younger and still wild-eyed adventurers. "Abnar, if this plan of yours involves two wagon-loads of dead fish, a bucket of mayonnaise, or challenging three orcs to a drinking contest while betting my life savings on a dice game, just kill me now."

+ The Oath +

Greven was certain that his old friend had finally lost his mind. King Abnar grinned, his eyes wild as he barked orders. The last stonemasons in the land worked feverishly, inscribing runes on marble and metal walls.

"My liege," implored the Magus. "I must ask you to reconsider. I-"

"Sound martial strategy is based upon denying the enemy resources and choosing to fight at a time suitable to you, not to them," interrupted the king. "And even if your band of mystics could not help, the old gods yet listen." He prowled about the stoneworks, glaring at any man who stopped for rest. "Gods of war, of justice! They will send forth a hero." He clapped the wizard on the back, nearly knocking over the greybeard. "Ha! Not so long ago, we were the heroes who came to others' aid, were we not?"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Greven muttered, "If we conveniently leave out all the times when we made matters worse rather than better, yes." Rolling up his sleeves, he stepped toward a wall full of fresh carvings and spread out his hands. Magic flowed from his blood, enchanting the marble and glimmering through the metal. Such works of awesome power were far from commonplace, but the mages guild had made great strides. Soon magic would be everywhere, invested in every industry and lauded rather than looked upon with wary greed. Greven knew he would not live to see that day, just as his old friend would not live to see his daughter wed.

"Good, good. Now, quickly, we must invoke the attention of the old gods when the moon is high in the sky!" King Abnar rushed from the vault, leaving behind the workers who still labored. Up to the highest tower in his castle he went. Fires burned throughout the city below. Weeping and gnashing of teeth echoed in the darkness. He set his jaw and drew his blade. For his people, for his daughter, for his own spiteful resilience, he would make this bargain. The old gods' eyes were upon him, as they had been when he was a traveling swordsman. Sometimes patrons, sometimes foes, but always seeking entertainment from the plights of mortals.

Gashing open his arm, he made the blood-oath. "To the man who solves this cipher and ends this curse, I promise the hand of my daughter in marriage, that he might rebuild this land and restore this people!"

For a few brief seconds, all was quiet atop the tower. The sounds of weeping from below faded, as did the crackling of fire. A dark shroud seemed to fall around the mage and the bleeding king. Greven trembled within his robes as the wind picked up. For decades the mages' guild had sought ways to liberate man from the chains of such fickle deities, to elevate humankind by intellect and labor. Such efforts made the old gods laugh. It amused them. For there would always be those desperate enough to make bargains, and when the stars were right all the glorious cities wrought by the minds of wise men would be swept away anyway.

There was no answer as the king's blood dripped and the shroud faded. Only the return of weeping, gnashing of teeth, and firelight from below. Then, carried by the wind, came a sound that shook the two old adventurers to their bones. It was the laughter of thirsting gods. First the blood that had dripped down onto the tower's roof was lapped up, dissolving into inky blackness, then the red upon his blade, and finally that still flowing from his arm. The wound sealed, not of its own accord but with a wretched scar which branded the king and sealed their pact.

"You see, Greven?" panted the old warrior, not quite certain why he was so out of breath. "They listen. They always have." He leaned against the parapet and looked down upon his city. "And I care not what price is asked of me, so long as it saves my people... and my darling Ellena. She doesn't deserve this." Nodding slowly, he rasped, "They will send a hero."

The wizard did not answer. He could only think of the old, wise words that warned young adventurers not to long for greatness. Every great man in history either died the hero, or lived long enough to see himself become the villain. In their youth, he and Abnar had slain many who made terrible pacts with the old gods. Reaching out, he set a hand on his old friend's shoulder.

"I have always admired the love you have for your own, my leige," the magos said sincerely.

The king nodded, crown heavy upon his head. "Thank you, Greven. Thank you for staying."

"Of course." The wizard thought it best not to explain that someone had to hold the portal open from this side. Perhaps one day a self-sustaining method would be developed, he had contributed a few simple theorems toward such a hope, but not yet. A man could only achieve so much within the short moments of his life. Straightening his hat upon his head, Greven resolved to do as much as he could before the inevitable end fell upon them like a red-hot axe.

+ The Girl +

The princess' armor sat upon its mannequin in her room. Next to it was her sword and shield, her bow and quiver, and a set of wooden training staves. The princess herself lay in bed, weak and feverish. Her maidservant pressed cold cloths against her forehead and tried to make her more comfortable. When the king entered, the maid ducked her head in reverence and shuffled to one side. So far the maid had shown no symptoms, and she refused to leave her mistress' service. As the princess' shieldbearer, the servant had sworn to face death alongside Ellena.

At his daughter's bedside, the king knelt and took her hand.

"D-daddy..." she said weakly.

"Save your strength, my dear." The usually bearish king was almost in tears. "You'll be better soon."

"I... I'm sorry..." she murmured. "I know... I know you wanted me to marry that half-elf boy s-so... the forests..." The young woman stared up at the ceiling. "But I don't... think I'll be..."

"Don't worry about him, darling. Just rest. I've... I've pledged the greatest reward I can think of to the one who can find a cure for all this."

She nodded, her hand seeming so small in her father's. A few weeks ago she had been a brash adventurer just like him, fighting monsters and righting wrongs with her shieldbearer at her side. "That sounds... n-nice..." A faint smile crossed her face. "Daddy... t-tomorrow's my birthday. Wouldn't it be nice if... if I woke up all better?"

He nodded, blinking back tears. "Yes, my sweet Ellena." He tugged his sleeve so she could not see the branding mark upon his arm. "Yes, it would."

Chapter 2. Explorer

The almost-renown explorer's brow furrowed as he put pen to page. "Personal log, Leon Wellesley. On the fifteenth day, second month, in the ninteenth year of Queen Vincinia's reign of the Home Isles and stewardship of the Known World." He tapped the pen against his pith helm, deep in thought. "It rained."

Well, he couldn't end the log entry with just that. "Going has been most frustrating. The old maps claimed that this land was quite devastated, but it truly seems that something is keeping the flora and fauna from restoring nature's balance. Most disheartening, since during the balloon ride in I noted significant tracts of what should be farmable land. After seeing the craggy trees and barren dirt up close, however, I despair that there may truly be nothing to find out here."

Doubly disappointing, since he needed to scrounge up some grand discovery. That fool Eddington had stolen the credit for his last grand find, those long-forgotten geometric structures in the sandy East, and was probably sitting fat and happy while the book royalties basted him like a pig in slop. A despicable little man, with his roving eye and a tongue that would pant out like a dog's...

A nudging at his elbow reminded him that he was supposed to be journal-keeping. He patted the faithful canine's head and sighed. "What do you think, Britta? Anything worthwhile out here, or am I just chasing skeletons, like in the Subcontinent?" She barked once in response, and nuzzled at the binoculars around his neck. The fog had lifted somewhat from their campsite, situated atop a sturdy marble ruin that provided a reliable place to anchor his hot-air balloon. Not as much cargo capacity as a proper dirigible, or as fast as those new cloud-cutters that the Institute had shown off to the Queen last time he was back in the Isles. Still, it had gotten him all the way out here, and would get him all the way back when he needed it. Hopefully he'd find something worth bringing.

That was the name of the game for roving adventurers like him. Find a great discovery, bring it back, and write a book about the experience. The find was crucial, but your ability to make a buzz about it was almost as vital. No one cared about some pointy blocks of stone out in the desert, no, they were concerned with the spectacle. Monuments that exceeded even the abilities of the Queen's engineers to recreate, made thousands upon thousands of years ago to house the remains of kings who supposedly made the sun go up and down! A sarcophagus with a mummy inside, a slice of a pyramid, a breathtaking vista painted by a skilled artist, those were the things a museum wanted. The public would pony up to see and read about such things.

He had made the discoveries. Little ones, big ones, but that last score would have been enough to set him up for life. Curse Eddington... a viper he was, a smooth-tongued devil! But such a mind he had for marketing. He was the one who had seen the potential, not in the priceless jewels entombed with the mummies, but in the corpses themselves. And with his family's money, he could afford to haul back an entire reconstruction of a burial chamber to the museum. What was a handful of jewels and some sketches compared to that, hmm? And to top it all off, none of the publishers wanted a book from Leon Wellesley after Eddington shoved his manuscript to the first in line. He was the star, the bespectacled show-stealer with a rakish grin and a barbarian's heart.

Leon despaired to think he had ever trusted such a man. "Publish, or perish, old boy," that was what Eddington had said. Such a snake he was, offering him second-billing in his own discovery! "I'm sure we can find you a place in the sun. Why, I can't attend all these parties myself you know. My liver wouldn't hold out!" His laughter, those guttural guffaws that wheezed into coughs, was as reprehensible as his shoes. "Now, see here, partner-mine. I'll front you the money for your next expedition, hmm? A man of action like you wants to be back out in the brush, doesn't he?"

Leon had stomped out in disgust. He didn't want Eddington's money, he wanted Eddington's head on a pike outside Traitor's Gate. Whenever the newspaper brought reports of that "wondrous adventurer" and the "endless treasures from the Cradle of Civilization!" it was all Leon could do not to vomit in his tea.

Holding his binoculars to his eyes, he peered out across the landscape. While the best sensoria he could afford claimed that none of this fog was toxic, or at least it was no more so than the clouds belched by the Home Isles' macroindustrial plots, it still moved strangely. He could well understand the stories of sky pirates that were popular in this region, and had even stumbled across a few wrecks of ancient dirigibles. Nothing of note, of course. Very primitive designs that had been seen before, based on archaic steam engines that had as much in common with modern technology as Britta did with a lapdog.

If one believed the old legends at face value, this land had once been the root of some abominable plague that had not only ravaged the countryside, but spread through clouds to the surrounding lands. It had been a constant thorn in the world's side for generations, perhaps even hundreds of years if one believed a few of the wilder manuscripts. Some of the only reliable historical manuscripts indicated that the disease was brought to an end by a particularly civic-minded king of a nearby land, who had apparently gotten his start as some kind of wandering doctor before taking the throne and diverting a tremendous amount of his nation's resources to curing this "Soul Plague."

Of course, those documents also claimed that he went adventuring with elves and orcs, married some kind of demon, and could heal wounds by laying on hands and thinking mightily about it. Adjusting his binoculars, Leon grumbled under his breath. Couldn't bring back any of the wild stories he had heard from the isolated villages. Modern historians enjoyed jolly fine laughs at how superstitious their predecessors had been, while sipping brandy and cigars at their social clubs. Fortunately, Her Majesty was a strong patron of the sciences and had the good fortune of a suitably skeptical populace. Doctors of today used only reliable medical practices, like leeches, stethoscopes, and that all-purpose wonder drug opium.

Spotting an outcropping of marble among the rock of a mountainside in the distance, the explorer leaned against the side of the balloon's basket. "Hmmph. More ruins, it looks like." He sighed and lowered his binoculars. "Well, perhaps it's worth a look. I wonder, Britta, do you think I should give up on this adventuring business and start writing penny romance novels instead? Those always seem to be selling."

The wolfdog tilted her head to the side, then shook herself all over and nosed the small of his back until he stood up and began clambering back into the hot-air balloon's basket. She jumped in right after him, then set her paws on an edge and began sniffing the air while he made preparations for liftoff.

"Fine, fine, I guess you're right," the adventurer sighed as he tugged at a line. "I mean, what would I say to mother?"

Chapter 3. Codebreaking

Another day, another dank cave that used to be part of a castle. Leon had seen it all before. What was new, however, was the chamber full of skillfully chiseled runes, many sequences of which were replicated on a series of somewhat portable metal tablets stacked and scattered all throughout the ruins. He had seen the like of such tablets before in his wanderings across this land, but those were all blank and badly weathered. These had been protected from the elements.

Not that it made them any more comprehensible. Some looked like ancient text. He was vaguely familiar with the old common tongue that was scrawled on the tablets and above the chamber's entrance, but reading them would be difficult. Curiously enough, all modern languages traced much of their roots back to patterns of speech imposed on the world during the classical era of Paxis. That sort of thing tended to happen when legions of theocratic fanatics stomped from one end of the globe to the other, built a wondrous civilization, and then shattered into a million squabbling pieces with a socio-religious schism that ushered in the Dark Ages.

This text was nowhere near as ancient as Paxis' legions. It was certainly from the Dark Ages, a cruel time when kings rose and fell, pantheons formed and dissolved, and adventurers ran amok like children on an overturned toffee truck. Much of the history from those times was shrouded in legend. Setting up his portable cogitator, Leon began loading punch-cards that would instruct the machine to perform a translation. He would still have to analyze much of the text himself, but at least he could automate some lexicon comparisons. Bitterly, he remembered Eddington bragging about the warehouse's worth of new, cutting-edge computation machines that were being shipped to the pyramids.

Before long, he was happy that he had set up the cogitator. While Britta nosed about the ruins, occasionally coming back with a chunk of masonry or a rusty old key that she thought would be useful, he crunched through the text. Some was familiar enough, but there was a distinct repeating sequence of runes that seemed to be pure gibberish. That sequence was the one etched again and again into the walls all around the chamber, so he knew it was no mistake. There was more than enough for him to establish a simple linguistic comparison, along with a bevvy of what seemed like pointless wailing about the Soul Plague devouring their lands, but that sequence seemed as random as if someone had mashed a row of keys on a typewriter.

After a spot of tea, and a hunk of dried meat for Britta, he reorganized his notes. Much of the text remained untranslated, but he had little inclination to read about a kingdom in decay. Not right now. It might make a decent penny dreadful back home, but he was almost certain that this was a dry well. Perhaps the International Association for Plague Control and Disease Prevention would be interested in a first-hand account about the early days of the Soul Plague. It might make a nice footnote to that monument they had for King Hudson. But that sort of translation could be automated. What intrigued him was this oft-repeated gibberish. Could it be some kind of cipher?

As he foraged through the text, occasionally helped by a new piece Britta would dig up from around the ruin, Leon discovered that the writers too thought this was some kind of cipher. Apparently they believed the Soul Plague was a bioweapon, though they called it a curse, put upon them by a distant witch. "Well, once you strip the madness out," he mused. "It's possible. Those colonists across the Heracletic Ocean discovered that the natives had no resistance to our diseases. If someone really wanted to, they could probably spread a new, deadly disease as a bioweapon." It would be insanity, of course. Bombs dropped from airships were dangerous enough, their collateral damage could be devastating. Gas was worse, for it went with the wind and could kill your own troops as quick as the enemy's. But a bioweapon, a germ or virus that existed only to end human life, could bury both target and user in the same grave.

Small wonder that IAPCDP venerated King Hudson so much, even with all those strange myths surrounding him. A demon for a wife, really! As Leon's pen scratched across the page, he wondered just how soft-headed those historians could have been. Then his grip tightened on the pen as thoughts of marriage reminded him of Eddington. Engaged to a Baronetess, a widow with gobs of money and political connections. Meanwhile, Leon's own efforts at securing a bride had fallen through when he failed to realize a fortune from his great discovery. Feeling suddenly tired, he leaned back against the wall and started at the clicking cogitator.

"Why do I bother, Britta?" he stared at the chamber's ceiling. The strange sequence was etched even there. She twitched her tail and stared at him from the other side of the room. "I should have taken Eddington's offer. Better a minor part in a fortune than a whole stake in a pittance." The faithful wolfdog padded toward him and tilted her head to the side curiously. "It was just a fluke that I triangulated those temples correctly, and managed to rediscover what the sand had covered. Now Eddington's pinging the desert with sonar, the kind of stuff that the Navy crams into their submersibles."

Britta flopped down on the ground and covered her ears. She remembered sonar all too well. The high-frequency sounds were particularly painful for a canine. Smiling, Leon reached out and patted her head. "Yes... yes, I suppose I did turn down the offer to work out there for your sake. Just a little. But mostly it was my own selfish pride. Why, if I hadn't brought Eddington up in the world, he would still be a shoe-shine boy at the university!" Such was loyalty in this day and age. After a few more moments of feeling sorry for himself, the explorer hauled himself upright and began feeding the cipher's patterns into the cogitator. Refilling the steam engine's fuel reserve, and making sure it was venting properly, he began puzzling over the possibilities its needles and keys scrawled out on a long roll of paper.

Certainly he had studied ancient ciphers, but this one seemed almost laughably simple. A child should have been able to recognize the simple substitution pattern. Then again, children in the Home Isles were almost invariably members of the Pioneer Scouts, and practiced such basic cryptography along with outdoorsmanship. The whole thing was a front for Civil Defense training. It gave children an opportunity to get out in the fresh air, away from the factory smokestacks, and play with fun things that went boom or bang. Feeling even more disappointed with the discovery, he jotted down on the back of an envelope the jumble of letters. It took less than five minutes to unscramble the phrase with the cogitator's help.

"Bah, I've found more complicated puzzles on the back of the oatmeal box!" grumbled Leon. He tossed the envelope down in disgust, then fed the next chunk of text to be translated into the cogitator. A shiver ran up his spine as the chamber seemed a bit colder. Glancing down at the cogitator's output, he read that this latest part of the record was about how the scholars of this land had mystically teleported away with all their assembled knowledge, in hope of keeping the sickness from spreading beyond this realm. "Follyrot!" he grumbled. Not even the IAPCDP was pompous enough to claim that their founders could teleport, and he had met more than one of those shut-in scientists who claimed to have a drop of demon blood in his or her veins.

Ah, but he was here. And while he was here, he would at least get what he could. Taking off his pith helm to rub his head, he sighed heavily. "Do you want to hear what it says, Britta? This grand cipher that all their great minds couldn't solve?" The wolfdog sat up, her tongue lolling out as she grinned wide. "Oh, don't give me that look, this isn't some big break like when you sniffed out that trapdoor in the pharaoh's tomb." He slapped the envelope against his thigh. "Here 'tis."

"'To my land you came, and brought life unwanted. To your land I send this gift of death undesired. The army that slew mine will serve me. The people who blasphemed me will toil in my name. The crown that reviled me will be forgotten. This is my sanction, that all who live may know death serves me, and all who worship weak gods may see your bones swell the ranks of my protectors. By my power I invoke desolation. By the Primal Powers it shall be upon your land. By the Outer Powers it shall be upon your souls. By the Cracked Prism may it be so until one without mana invokes this secret unharried.'"

The explorer nearly broke down laughing at the last part. "Do you hear that, Britta? One without mana! They believed the silliest things, didn't... they?" Wind began to rush into the chamber. The wolfdog was on her feet, her fur blowing about and a low growl rumbling from her throat. At first the explorer feared a cave-in, but the chamber still seemed quite stable despite the ground trembling. A sprig of vine that had been dull and withered seemed to bloom in the twinkling of an eye. Sunshine pierced through the fog above and fell through a crack in the ceiling, highlighting a spot not far from Britta with warm rays.

Nervously, the adventurer backed toward a wall, his hand on the Webley revolver holstered at his hip. Its .455 cartridge had stopped a charging cannibal before. Leon had faced lions, tigers, and bears before, but nothing could prepare him for a bone hand pushing up through a chunk of shimmering marble as though the stone was but mud. Britta continued growling and backed slowly over to his side. Behind the hand came an arm, covered in some ethereal goo that clung to the ancient cloth of a sleeve. What could only be the remains of a human pulled itself up through the marble floor. First the left side's radius and ulna, then the humerus, followed by the right arm. Flexing bony fingers to get a grip, an entire skeleton emerged, topped by a skull that had long, flowing locks of raven-dark hair yet no skin. Strands of ethereal fire coursed along the cranium, and two spheres of glowing goo filled the eye sockets.

Of course his revolver was already in hand, aimed, and were it a tiger or even a giant spider he would have already emptied the cylinder. But this was a fresh sort of infernal, one he was utterly unprepared for, and only made worse by a sudden howl from the cogitator as it shifted gears to grind through the last of the translation. He stood as still as a statue, cold sweat trickling down his brow. The skeleton in a dress, for it did him no good to deny the obvious, stood upright in the sunbeam, stretching out its arms toward the light high above. Beneath its bony feet, the marble ceased shimmering and seemed to become solid once more. Science had no rational explanation for what he was now witnessing.

Chapter 4. Awakening

Leon had the unfortunate combination of a hardened adventurer's willpower and an explorer's curiosity. His brain was in a state of overload from all the sounds and sights, but while a trained soldier would have opened fire while running away, he remained perfectly still with eyes wide. That kind of behavior had saved him before, when he came face to face with a venomous python in the Subcontinent and managed to stare it down, but it was no quick-witted survival instinct that kept him rooted in place this time. He was terrified. In fact, all he could think about was how Eddington was probably drunk, gorged, and sated aboard a luxurious cabin while his fleet of airships made their way back to the desert in search of another glorious discovery.

Abruptly, the room fell silent as the cogitator completed its work and the wind ceased to rush. Even Britta stopped her growling. There was no sound except for a distant trickle of water that slowly swelled to a rush, as if a great crack in a stone dam had given way and now a waterfall was rushing forth once again. More sunlight poured in through the ceiling as the fog, which never lifted according to the villagers, burned away. A songbird chirped somewhere outside, followed by another. It was the sort of thing one expected to hear in a wild land, but Leon realized that he had not heard a single bird on all his travels here.

As the skeleton stood with its ragged silks swaying gently and its arms stretched up toward the sun, shadow briefly blocked the light. It was a colored shadow, for light fell through the wings of butterflies as they circled in through the hole in the chamber's roof. The insects cast an ever-changing stained glass refraction over the skeleton as they fluttered down to land upon her bones. What had first been an utterly horrifying sight was now almost absurd, as if one had taken old Sweeny Todd and made him a scarecrow in a tomato patch. That was the only reason he did not immediately blast the skeleton to bits when it turned and began to speak.

The voice was distinctly feminine, though wispy and hollow. "Have you done it?" While the skull's jaw was moving, it seemed that strands of goo between the skeleton's head and collarbone were where the voice emanated from. He was more surprised that he could understand her, even if the way she spoke the common tongue was quite archaic. Then again, most modern people would not have his command of old languages. "Are you the one who lifted the curse? Father promised someone would come, someone who could understand the deep secret. Is it you? It is, it must be!"

"Hello," he said cautiously, revolver still leveled. "I am Leon Wellesley, archaeologist and adventurer. If you are... ah, if you speak of the cipher, then..." A talking skeleton, covered in butterflies. He blinked repeatedly, but it was still there. Madness, true madness... there must be some sort of hallucinogen or gas leak. Slowly, he stepped back toward the doorway. "Yes. I read it aloud to my wolfdog."

Clapping its bone hands together, the skeleton's faceless grin seemed somehow to show even more teeth. Flawless teeth, the sort of smile a girl would love to have, especially with a butterfly perched on her head like a flapping bow, but teeth without lips, tongue, or gums. The radiant blue flame that flowed along the skeleton's dark hair cast eerie lights on the floor and walls. "Then you are the one..." Fleshless fingers clasped together. "The one I've waited for all this time. What kingdom are you from? I don't recognize your armor, I..." The skeleton raised its hands to its face. "Oh, I apologize, I've made a mess of protocol again." Was there a faint red blush upon the goo that covered her cheekbones, or was it but a trick of the light?

Straightening its spine, the skeleton held out its once-elegant silk dress and curtsied. While the motion was fluid and well-practiced, it was unlike any such curtsy he had ever seen before. The skeleton bowed deep and shifted her weight, rather than bending at the waist and dipping a knee, something that most modern ladies would struggle to do with their rigid gowns. More befuddling was how some of the butterflies seemed to move with the gesture, bobbing as if to take the place of a cloak. "I am Princess Ellena of Feldgren, daughter of King Abnar the Mighty and pupil of Grand Magus Greven the Reluctant."

Rising from her curtsy, she stared at him with those blank orbs of semi-transparent goo set in skeletal sockets. "And you... you are..." Her bone fingers trembled nervously. "H-hello, my husband."

"Husband?" he echoed in confusion. "I... wait, King Abnar? He was mentioned in the text, and... yes, he was the final king of this realm before the disease consumed it. But you... you can't be... this can't be... it's not scientifically possible for a skeleton to..."

Now it was her turn to appear confused. "Skeleton? What do you..." finally looking full at her hands, and the parts of her body bared by the depreciated dress, she gasped in shock. "Oh... oh no... this is wrong, this is all wrong, I... I can't..." The goo in her eye sockets seemed to melt, oozing down her fleshless cheeks and staining the dress further.

With a soft growl that drew her master's attention, Britta padded over to the still cogitator and helpfully tore off the last part of the paper roll. Returning to her master, she held the translation up toward him. Leon slumped back against the wall as he read the words. "By oath of blood, I, King Abnar the Mighty, do pledge my daughter's hand in marriage and the eternal covenant of my realm to the one who ends this foul curse. May this proclamation be spread far and wide, so that the greatest of heroes may come to mend our kingdom." The paper slipped from his fingers onto the floor. This couldn't be happening, couldn't be real, he had to be hallucinating...

While the two bipeds shuddered in shock, Britta glanced from her master to this new thing. Natural instinct was a wonderful fallback. She licked her lips meaningfully and crept toward the princess, then unceremoniously began to gnaw at a tibia. This was too much for Ellena, who cried out in horror and fainted onto a patch of dirt. Leon started forward to catch her, the natural instinct of a gentleman, but she was too far away and by his third step he had enough time to wonder if he actually did want to catch a skeleton after all. Glancing up toward the sunlight, revolver still in hand, he determined that he had to get out of here. Something in the air, that was the only explanation.

And yet... no gentleman could leave a lady collapsed on the floor, not even one who lacked flesh and blood yet could still curtsy. Tugging on his gloves with a stiff upper lip, he reached down and grasped her upper arm. The silken cloth felt normal enough, but the squelch of ectoplasmic goo sent nervous tingles up his arm. She stood as he helped her upright. It seemed that, despite the horror, she had not fallen unconscious but simply lost her balance. The princess quietly wondered if it was even possible for her to sleep anymore. Britta let go of the leg bone and was spitting out flecks of goo while glaring suspiciously.

Together, the adventurer and the skeleton staggered out of the ruins. Not until they were out in the sun and fresh air did he turn to look at her again. The light was warm and bright, while the land seemed to blossom with greenery and flowers the like of which he had never seen on his trek in. A few puffy white clouds floated through the sky, but there was no trace of the oppressive fog. He could even hear songbirds flapping overhead. All the noises of nature had returned in force. While he had no scientific explanation, Leon was at least willing to admit that he had noticed dramatic changes after reading that text aloud. Drawing in a deep breath of the fresh air, he looked over at the princess, hoping somehow that what he had seen in the cavern was just some kind of figment.

If anything, she appeared even more bony and gooey. The butterflies now seemed like glitter on a corpse. He stepped away, still coming to terms with everything. She leaned forward, teeth spreading as though to bite him. With a twitch of his wrist, his revolver was leveled with her mouth. "Back! You'll not have my flesh!"

The skeleton seemed to fold in on herself. "I... my husband, will you not kiss me? We... I thought you... this isn't how it's supposed to go, and I don't know what to do!" She peered curiously at his revolver. "What is that in your hand? Some kind of hammer? Why are you holding it backward?"

He was breathing as much of the fresh air as he could, but the impossible sight was not going away. "You're real, aren't you? A talking skeleton, from a thousand years ago, from... from the very start of the Soul Plague."

The orbs in her eyesockets began to melt again. "I am not a skeleton! I'm Princess Ellena! S-something must have gone wrong, I... d-did you say a thousand years?" Her hands reached up to her face again. "How... it can't possibly have been that long, I..." She staggered back, looking up at the sky. "By the powers, what kind of bird is that?" Her bone finger pointed toward his hot-air balloon. "A-and what knightly order are you from, that you wear no plate and carry no sword? I don't think you're an elf, you haven't the ears or the clothes. Who-"

He took a deep breath again, and slowly lowered the revolver. "You are history, princess. Ancient history." Mad, he must have gone mad. Oh, but if the world was mad too what was wrong with that? Looking down at Britta, who kept trying to get the taste of that goo out of her mouth and seemed not to care about the deeper horrors they had uncovered, he steeled his nerve. "We... I think we have a lot to discuss. Perhaps I'd best put a kettle on."

Chapter 5. New World

With her teacup held daintily in a skeletal hand, and a few strands of goo clinging from her fingers to the saucer, she glared at him across the tree stump. "Of course I know what tea is, what kind of savages do you think we are... were... o-oh..." She set the teacup down and began to tremble all over, the cloudy goop that stuck to her bones shaking as she tried not to cry. "They're all gone, aren't they? Everyone's gone. Father, and Ruthgor... Uncle Greven... I still remember Anna pressing the cold cloths against my forehead."

She sniffled, which made an unsettling sound as it shifted globs of goo around her skull. "I... I suppose it's selfish to want them here, but... oh, you don't understand, you can't... we're having tea on the stump of a tree I've never seen before. There's supposed to be a little fountain two steps over, but I can't even see rubble." Reaching down, she picked up her teacup again. "This was a garden. If... if it had gone wild I would at least recognize something, but if it wasn't for the way the hills roll and the mountains rise I wouldn't recognize anything." Taking a cautious sip of the hot brew, which visibly trickled down the goop that stretched where her throat ought to be, Princess Ellena tried to keep as royal a bearing as she could. "Everyone's gone. I... w-wait... if everyone's gone, then what became of the witch?"

Leon never quite took his eyes off the skeleton as he drank his tea. "Well, the Soul Plague was gradually stamped out thanks to the combined efforts of the Known World's medical experts over the course of centuries. This talk of a witch, though, I don't quite know who you're referring to. You've explained that she was ruler of some far land that your father picked a fight with-"

"He did not!" she interrupted indignantly. The ethereal flames in her hair burned a little brighter. "Father was called to arms by his allies in a sacred crusade. Our nation has a very proud martial tradition, so it is no wonder that we inflicted the greatest number of casualties upon the accursed foe before a cowardly assassination destroyed the coalition's leadership." The tea had settled in her gut, below the ribcage, and seemed to be dissolving out into various parts of her body. Leon was rather glad she had politely refused his offer of crumpets. "It was from sheer spite and jealousy that we were targeted for reprisal."

"Ah. My apologies." Reaching into the pack he had retrieved from his hot-air baloon, the explorer pulled out a map of the Known World and its surrounding uncivilized landmasses. He had fretted about if showing her such a thing was a good idea, quality maps could be of high military value, but it seemed safe enough. Wasn't like he was trying to show her an ordinance map of Londinium, with precise detail of the GHQ line, or anything sensitive like that. He had also managed to sketch out a fairly accurate assessment of this region from his baloon and villagers' maps, though it had been slow going in the fog. "Now, I've this scroll here with the surveying I managed to complete of your land."

She nodded appreciatively. Most of the butterflies had bustled off to do their business, but shortly after they sat down for tea a burrow of bunnies had cautiously circled over. Setting down her teacup, she picked up one of the rabbits and cuddled it against her bosom. "I recognize much. Ah... these sites you marked as rubble, they... well, this one at least was Freyaburg, and if this hill is the Thunderer then I... I suppose that crater must be the memorial." The princess fell silent, hugging the rabbit a little closer while others nuzzled at her dress. "Where it used to be. I... when I was a little girl, the Wall of the Fallen seemed eternal, but... it couldn't have been an accident. Something with so much stone, so much metal, there would be more left than a crater if only time had..."

On the other side of the stump, Britta looked meaningfully at the rabbits and licked her chops. Leon dangled a biscuit in front of her nose, which she reluctantly began gnawing without averting her gaze. "The records left in your burial chamber indicated that this witch did come to this land after her bioweapon wrought its devastation. Perhaps she took a direct hand in tearing down what remained."

The princess nodded, her gooey eyes starting to melt again. "A... a sound stratagem." She cleared her throat. "I... it seems my only subjects are the beasts of the land. But I remain, and while I am alive we are not yet beaten." Her expression fell. "Ah... but I am not alive, am I? What am I?"

Leon did not have an answer for that. Forcing a smile, he fibbed, "You're alive enough. Now, where did you say this witch lived? Can you point it out on this map of the world?" As she leaned forward, he silently prayed that she would not point toward the Home Isles. Laughable to think of such a thing, of course. Even in the old times of the Woad Queens who slathered blue pigment on their bodies and led armies into battle with the insane belief that it somehow made them resistant to arrows or blades, the kind of evil that had befallen this land was quite reviled. But he would have almost preferred that the princess did point to his homeland, for instead she hovered a bony finger above Desolation March.

"There. I am quite certain of it, if your map is accurate." The slime of her face crinkled slightly. "Odd that you don't have the dragons' lairs marked. How do you keep clear of them in your navigation?"

The explorer raised both eyebrows. "Ah... we manage. They haven't bothered anyone in... well, in a very long time." Dragons, really! Well, at least dragons were not unheard of, but modern air-power made such primitive flying lizards think twice. Annoyances, like sharks at sea, nothing that could truly endanger the Known World.

She brightened visibly, setting down one rabbit and leaning back on the grass to let another pair play about her lap. "Oh, have they finally made peace? When I was a little girl, I was able to visit Kringalnachtglaus as part of the tributary delegation. He was in slumber. Spoke to us in our dreams, of course. I doubt I would have been able to stand before him if he had done otherwise. You know how dangerous it is to hear their ancient tongue." Petting one of the rabbits, she looked up at a tree full of songbirds. "I wish he would have come to our aid. Perhaps he would have been able to guide Uncle Greven with undoing the curse. We never heard back from the delegation Father sent, and it's such a dangerous journey that... well, everything was falling apart."

The explorer raised his pith helm and scratched his head. "Ah... quite." Digging in his pack, he found that old reliable copy of the Encyclopedia Desuchaxia, full of frightful details and barbaric facts about the uncivilized realms. "Yes... the Desolation March, that is what we call the land you pointed to. Reliable records are spotty, and little exploration has been successful due to the land's inhospitable climate. Apparently it was once well-inhabited, there's significant signs of tool use and housing, but around four hundred years ago something happened that triggered a mass diaspora. Apparently some kind of civil war broke out." Paging further along, he frowned. "Hm. Apparently IAPCDP's logs show that King Hudson ventured there after his coronation as part of medical research." He would need to get a look at those records when he could get back to a proper library.

"Does the name Lady Tyrannix help?" asked Princess Ellena.

Her words sent a chill down his spine. Why, he did not know, as he was pretty sure he had never heard that name before. Paging through the Desolation March's entry, he could find no mention of it. Not even the index was of help. All Leon saw was continual references to a tyrant who ruled with a bloody fist, and seemed to hold power for centuries. "It says here that the ruler was rarely seen without a heavily customized suit of armor. Quite possible there was some royal lineage and the current leader donned the armor for public appearances, giving them an air of immortality." He smiled. "A parlor trick, but useful."

The princess shook her head, her hair swaying with the motion. "The witch did not age, nor could she be killed by mortal means. Only a blessed strike, from one forged in suffering and of balanced soul, could pierce her heart. So was the prophecy."

Leon held back a sensible chuckle. "My dear princess, many such prophecies have been disproved by a concentrated aerial bombardment from the Royal Dirigible Corps." Seeing the confusion on her face, he sighed. "I'll explain later. For now, it seems that she was deposed or killed outright, for her empire is no more. You can at least take solace in that."

The skeleton's bone fingers clasped together. "Perhaps. My thoughts were not of revenge, but of your safety." Seeing the confusion on his face, she took another sip of tea and explained, "If the witch hated my father and our land so much, I have no doubt that she would return in an effort to see us undone completely. And if I have survived... how much more likely is it that she did?"

Feeling for his revolver, Leon forced a reckless grin. "Well, if she's just waking up too, I think she'll find the world's changed quite a bit. And if she does get any cheeky ideas, I've weathered danger before."

The princess' unsettling grin stretched wide again. "You really are amazing, Mister Wellesley. You've a house that floats, a scroll-making machine that clicks when you pour oil in it, and you make a fine cup of tea. I'm... really, when Father told me about the blood-oath he made, I was afraid that... well, I didn't know what kind of husband I would get." She reached across the stump and tried to touch his hand. "But you're-"

Abruptly turning to rummage in his pack again, he quickly said, "Oh, that does remind me... I should introduce you to the villagers before we go. There's an isolated community on the way back, and I should be able to top off the water as well."

She leaned her head to the side, and a curious songbird circled just above. "Go? Go where?"

"Why, back to the Home Isles, of course." She was a find, of that he was certain. How to market her, he wasn't quite sure, but there would be time for thinking about that on the ride back. Perhaps she was a bit too... well, she did not act the part of a monster, but he could manage that well enough. Just the sight of her would shock many a man, and that was often what the commoners wanted. A talking skeleton, a relic from the old times! Eddington would want her in a stage show of some kind, real lowest-brow entertainment for the plebs, but Leon knew better. She belonged in a museum, surrounded by other pieces of history. Hrm, perhaps they could even make her an exhibit of some kind...

He smiled. "We'll get you a nice new dress, and you'll be able to learn all about what's happened in the world while you were away." They would learn a lot from her as well. The scientists would be agog. Truth be told, he was looking forward to finding out just what made her tick as well. The Clockwork Queen herself might even take an interest. Her Majesty had full confidence in the Royal Engineers to keep her artificial heart and lungs functioning ever since that horrid day when a suicide bomber had nearly decapitated the entire nation, but perhaps he had stumbled upon the kind of discovery that would... well, no point getting ahead of himself. God save the Queen. "There'll be lots of people who would like to see you."

"Interested in me?" she echoed. "I... b-but... I cannot be part of a delegation, not like this!" The princess clasped her bone hands together. "I... y-you may be able to see beyond this wretched form, my wonderful husband, but I... I cannot be seen in public like this. It is disgraceful to the crown and legacy of the kingdom." She hunched her shoulders a little, again reaching out to touch him. "Leon, you are an adventurer, well accustomed to the oddities of the world. I am so fortunate that you were the one to undo the curse. But if the peasantry see me, they will be within their rights to take up torch and pitchfork."

Having donned his gloves once more, the explorer let her gooey hands touch his. "Ah. I... really, it won't be so bad. Back in the Home Islands there's a Society of Explorers, and museums full of people interested in such things. I-"

Her skull's constant smile was disturbing. Especially with the adorable rabbits scampering about her ruined dress and the sweet songbirds overhead. All the land seemed lush and verdant. The sun above bathed the greenery in pleasant light. He was almost certain that he could see deer frolicking out in the forests. Britta started to nose him, wanting either another biscuit or permission to bloodily murder a bunny. This was a far cry from the foggy, depressing place he had landed at just a few hours ago. Surely it was just coincidence that the fog had lifted... right? How much could there really be to this magic? Were... were the ancient historians correct, and modern man the fool for dismissing such things as impossible?

"Leon," she said firmly. "I cannot go like this. I... Uncle Greven promised he would begin instructing me in scholarly things once I was of age, and... well, when I came of age I was deathly ill. We must find his study, or what remains of it." Petting one of the rabbits, she continued, "He was a very clever man. If any of his spellbooks have survived, we may be able to undo some of what... some of what has befallen me."

The explorer scratched his head again and looked off into the distance. As she was, this princess could shock anyone. If they somehow got her back into a regular, flesh-and-blood body, there went half of his validity. More than one fool had been tricked by a gypsy claiming to be a resurrected royal from ancient times. But a talking skeleton, a real monster who could give credence to all those tales of undead horrors... Leon felt Britta nosing him again. He offered her another biscuit, but still she was pawing at his side. Looking down, he saw his wolfdog giving him that suspicious glare he knew too well.

With a heavy sigh, Leon nodded slowly. "All-right, Britta. I won't do what Eddington would..." Bah, it wasn't like all this magic stuff was that strong anyway. The princess was here because magic used to have a hold in the old times, but these were days of science. Why, she still believed dragons were anything more than troublesome flying lizards! He would humor her, at the very least. And... well, if there was a way to give this young lady back her old flesh, was he really cruel enough to keep her from that for his own sake?

Money, it would be a lot of money. Almost enough to make him say that yes, he was willing to coax her back to the Home Isles and dump her in a museum. But... though it was hard to call a skeleton innocent, her kind touch and ladylike speech tugged at his heart. Clearing his throat, he clasped her hands with his gloved ones. "All-right, Princess Ellena, we'll have a rummage through the ruins and see what can be turned up."

"Thank you, Leon!" The goo over her face smoothed. "I know that if there's a way, we'll find it in Uncle Greven's texts."

Chapter 6. Spiderjockies

Sweat ran down the explorer's face as he hacked with the machete. Getting into the princess' burial chamber had been much easier than winding their way up back trails, around collapsed sections of the castle, and through a nest of rabid spiderjockies. Ghastly things those, with pincers like scorpions and spiders' webbing. They got their name from their habit of lurking on the ceilings of caves, or in warehouse lofts, and silently rappelling down onto any mammals they thought they could devour. Tremendous ratters, but a horrible thing to suddenly feel scuttling on your back while you were making your way down a dark, damp cave.

To his surprise, the princess was as unbothered by the spiderjockies as she had been by the butterflies. Instead of shrieking and shivering, which would have been the natural thing for a lady accustomed to court life, she had calmly peeled two off her back and tossed them aside. More worrying to him, when another dropped down her front and slipped beneath her dress, she made a brief effort to pull it out, then glanced down, pressed both bony hands against where her stomach should be, and the goo on her face seemed to stretch into an even wider smile. Once they were through the nest and out into the sunlight again, he glimpsed through the holes in her dress what could only be the legs of a spiderjockie dissolving in the goo of her torso.

Try though he might, the explorer found it impossible to remember a scientific explanation for what he had seen today. But such quirks of her strange body were less concerning than where she had earned the nerve to try them. As he cut through the thick underbrush surrounding what she was sure had to be the mage's tower, Leon asked as calmly as he could manage, "Not afraid of the scuttling ones, are you?"

"Strange creatures," she answered back in that wispy voice. "Never before have I seen such things. Are they servants of the witch?"

He shrugged. "Biologists all around the world would like to know. They seem to turn up everywhere. Much of the Home Isles is clear, they've found a gas that seems to do the buggers in, but it's difficult to cleanse out some of the slums since not everyone there has a gas mask." The explorer shook his head. "Civil defense can only do so much."

She pulled aside the branches of a bush so he could slide past. "Very strange indeed. I have hunted boar, fought lions, and crossed blades with the man-crabs, but-"

He stared at her wide-eyed. "Man-crabs?"

The princess nodded demurely. "Of course. Do they still have their arenas on the shores? I was always more talented with a blade than as part of a diplomatic mission."

Britta tilted her head to the side, as did her master. "You... arenas..." He blinked repeatedly and leaned back against the stone wall for support. "But you were royalty, were you not?"

The goo of her eyes hardened. "I am the daughter of King Abnar, whose blade-word is currency in three lands and whose armies are the terror of all." Then her voice faltered. "I... papa..." She too leaned against the stonework. They looked at each other from opposite sides of the archway leading into the mage's tower. "My people would not respect a leader who could not wield a sword and command a formation. The call to battle is as familiar to us as the call to supper. Are your people not also willing to fight, to follow their leader into battle?"

Leon glanced down. "Battle is no longer given as it used to be, princess. Warfare is now a matter of how many gun barrels you can align, how many dirigibles or mechanical horses are available. It is a question of logistics, of supplying the army and projecting force across seas and mountains. With the forces that we now channel for war, one man can make only a very little difference to the outcome." Looking up into her eyes, he saw that this unnerved her far more than the spiderjockies had. "The Queen seeks peace, but... well, especially after that suicide bomber killed most of the royal family, she is not hesitant to order aerial bombardment of a region."

The princess nervously tapped her fingers against the stone. "I do not understand... does she command dragons, that their fiery breath might melt even enchanted walls?"

"You could call it that, I suppose," the explorer nodded. "The balloon house that I have," that was what she called it anyway. "There are much bigger ones, made of metal, and they hurl explosives down upon an area until nothing is left but rubble." Well, rubble and corpses, but he did not want to say so in front of a lady. Even a lady who was herself a corpse. She seemed to have an inner strength, but he could not help to see her as anything other than... well, a skeleton in a tattered old dress. "War is a terrible thing these days. It's something we try to avoid, because... well, each one seems more terrible than the last, as science keeps rushing onward."

She stood up straight. "War never changes, Leon. It is always terrible, always brutal, and the men in the front ranks pay the highest price yet receive the smallest reward." The princess stepped toward him. "But there are times when you must fight. For rightful land, for defense of your own, and for honor." She reached out for his shoulder. "In such times, you must stand and give battle for what is rightfully yours. You must make the enemy pay more blood and treasure than he is willing for what he wants. Otherwise, you do not truly own anything but the pittance you are allowed."

She couldn't know about Eddington. There was no way she knew about what that scoundrel had done, but perhaps she had read on his face why he was so far from the Home Isles. Yes, he was running. Eddington was a sly one. He never hit you from the front, always the side, always the back. Leon had thought that the man was doing him a favor, taking care of the crowd-pleasing side of the discovery, right up until he started seeing playbills and posters with Eddington's name across the top and his buried down in the bottom credits. Bitterly, he shook his head. "Sometimes you don't see the battle coming, princess."

Her gooey fingers touched his shoulder, pressing into the fabric of his shirt. "We all lose battles, Leon. I have lost... I have lost much. But I remain, and while I remain, it is possible that my people may be victorious against the witch. That is the secret of grand strategy. You may lose many battles, but so long as you win the final conflict, the last laugh will be yours."

The explorer nodded, straightening his back. He couldn't let Eddington have this girl. Not just because of the discovery, but because that rat snake would destroy her in his blind greed. "Thank you, Princess Ellena."

Her skull's smile was as unsettling as ever. "Of course. Though there are many things I must learn about this new world, some matters are timeless." She leaned a little closer. "And... and well, you are after all my husband... and..." The goo around her teeth parted, baring them more fully. "I..."

The skin of his back crawled as though a dozen spiderjockies were scuttling beneath his shirt, and his hair stood on end beneath his pith helm. Scooting quickly to the side, out of her reach, the explorer scrambled forward toward the rotting door of the wizard's tower. "Ah, well, that's very... let's see about getting you fixed up, hey now?" Straightening his pith helm, he yanked at the rusted iron ring that served as a doorhandle. "What're we looking for in here, some book of riddles and cantrips?"

An otherworldly wind tugged at the princess' hair and swayed her dress as she stood in the archway. Her eyes went watery again. This adventurous man was so full of mystery and agony. All her life she had prepared to be the wife of a heroic conqueror, or a wandering warrior. Maybe she would have caught the eye of a shy yet mighty mage, and there had been that elven boy from the deepwoods who had taken a liking to her blade artistry. Once upon a time she had poise, muscle, and feminine charm. All the things a lady should exude. Now...

Even if he could see past her disgraceful appearance, this adventurer was not the sort of man to let anyone near his heart. Someone had wounded him badly. That was why he had come so far from where he had pointed out as his home on that map. The skeleton girl sighed quietly and rested her chin on her hands. Though he could not see it, Leon was a dead man walking just like her. He had given up on life, but could not bear to end himself by his own hand. Not surprising. He was without the dishonor that would urge such a dramatic end. So he had thrown himself to the wind, with his balloon house and his faithful wolf. How very like the berserk rage that might possess a warrior who had nothing left to lose!

Stepping quietly behind him, she wanted to put her arms around Leon and hold him close. It was a wife's duty to comfort her husband and provide him solace, to bear his shield and tend his wounds after battle. He was such a tragic soul. But before she could embrace her husband, the man who had broken the curse and saved her land, he managed to break open the door and charge forward into the dimly-lit tower. She followed behind, feeling more than a little nervous. Uncle Greven had always warned her against poking about in his tower, but... surely he would understand.

Such thoughts did not help the uncertain feeling squirming in her gut. Still, she had eaten worse than whatever those many-legged things were when she was still alive. It had felt so natural to consume, to devour the flesh of the living...

Chapter 7. Searching

Time and weather had not been kind to the Grand Magus' library. Wooden shelves had given way, spilling priceless tomes across the floor where their pages had been nibbled by rodents and ruined by rain. Great chunks of the walls and ceilings had crumbled. Guided by the sunlight that fell through the gaps, and always seemed to shine a little brighter around Princess Ellena, they salvaged what they could. When their search took them downstairs, into the musty basements and warded chambers, his hand-cranked luminator revealed that many of the old vaults had been buried by cave-ins. Finally, all that remained was to search the uppermost reaches of the tower.

The two stood below a tall balcony, looking about for some way of reaching the top. "Father was always annoyed that Uncle Greven used that rope ladder instead of a proper staircase," remarked the skeletal girl. "And now the bookcases have crumbled, we can't climb up them either."

Leon peered suspiciously up at the banister. "I've a grappling hook in my pack." Any good adventurer knew the utility of such a thing. Great hub-bub was being made back in the Home Isles of a new invention, some sort of automated grapple-claw that could latch, retract, and purportedly save the user from certain death at merely the touch of a button. Sadly, all he had been able to afford for this journey was the old, reliable rope-and-hook model. Rumor held that Eddington had spiffing new steam-jet levitation packs for his... grr... "But I don't trust that banister, it looks rotted. And so does the flooring up there. With someplace this old, one good jerk could bring the whole balcony down on our heads."

Nodding thoughtfully, the Princess tapped a finger against her jawbone. "I... it seems like just yesterday I was climbing up the ladder, peering into all the secrets Uncle Greven was ensorcelling. Oh, I..." She wrapped her arms around her midsection. "I can see him standing there on the balcony, looking down with that grey beard of his. It's almost like he's calling me." The skeletal girl shook her head, and the memory faded. "We must find a way, we must!"

Britta was sniffing about some of the rubble. She picked up a long board that looked mostly intact and propped it atop a pile of fallen rock. The idea of building a ramp entered Leon's mind, then faded as soon as the board crumbled when Britta poked at it with a paw. Nature was reclaiming this place. He glanced over at the bones covered in goo standing next to him. She was still the strangest thing he had ever seen, but there was no question that she was real... or that her mind remained even if her flesh did not. Her gooey eyes turned to look into his, and what might have been a smile formed on her face.

"I have an idea." Stepping away from the balcony, she grabbed the top shelf of a bookcase. The princess's arms gooey arms tensed as she hauled herself atop the ruined wood. With the same single-minded dedication that the witch's undead legions had demonstrated, she balanced atop the rotting bookshelf and grinned down. "I weigh a pittance now, and yet I am still strong enough to pull myself up."

Britta cocked her head to the side as she rejoined her master. Leon cleared his throat. "Ah... do you mean to say you think you can fly?"

The princess laughed. It should have been a regal, pleasant sound, but instead it was bone-chilling. "Oh, I only wish Uncle had taught me how! No, my husband." Dropping down from the bookcase, her gooey body absorbing the shock of impact and her bones keeping her form together, she stepped toward the balcony once more. "You should be able to throw me high enough, then toss me the rope. I will secure it to one of Uncle's workbenches, which should be sturdy enough."

Ellena climbed atop a particularly large piece of stone and held out her arms toward him. What might have been an inviting gesture from another human was instead quite foreboding. Her skeletal arms, the holes in her ancient dress, and that skull beneath the goo, all collaborated to make her the monster that the witch had wanted.

Leon thought about suggesting they go back, heat up his hot-air balloon, and then try rappelling down into the upper levels. But the ceilings in that part of the tower seemed quite intact, which made it all the more imperative that they try to reach that area. Pulling out his gloves, he took a cautious step toward her. It was a silly fear, she had not eaten his brains yet and had no reason to do so now, but... well, she was monstrous. A cruel thought, but a true one. Princess Ellena was also a good girl in a bad predicament, and if she had the hope of some old book helping her, then what kind of man would he be if he did not lend his aid? Oh, if the Explorers' Society could see him now, would they laugh themselves silly or wheel out their Gatlings in horror?

Stepping up to the skeleton, he gingerly reached out toward her waist, then pulled back his hands. "Ah... it is ungentlemanly to... well, to man-handle a lady, especially one in a fragile dress."

Her head tilted to the side. "Fragile? This is triple-woven composite carbon-glass silk." Tugging at one of her sleeves to show that the material would not tear easily, she continued, "Enchanted with a third-circle antipyro ward. It's rated to stop a dagger or arrow, and if I still had the ironbull guardian plates I would have no need to fear even a crossbow bolt aimed at my heart."

Leon blinked. After a few seconds, he did realize that it was a bit odd that her clothes had survived for centuries, even preserved in marble. Magic kept turning his mind upside down, but he could not attribute everything strange to some mystic force. Then a greater realization struck him. "Your people understood the production of synthetic fibers?" Such a thing was considered at the cutting edge of modern technological ability, with great looms spinning out advanced fibers like those used for the animatronic muscle of the Queen's clockwork guardians.

The skeleton girl nodded, as if he had asked whether she understood that farming was an effective way to produce food.

"And... and they used such things for your burial dress?" Just what kind of mad society buried a girl, a princess no less, in something intended to stop crossbow bolts?

Reaching out, she took his gloved hands in hers. "A princess should be buried in full battle dress, Leon. I... I do wish you could see me in my true armor, but it seems that this is all that has survived." Seeing the look in his eyes, she asked gently, "Is this not how your people honor their dead? Even the least of my countrymen wished to be buried with his armor and weapons as grave goods."

"It... I..." He shook his head. "No. It's not so very common anymore." The explorer looked into her gooey face. The ooze-filled eyesockets of her skull stared back. "Were you a renown warrior? You said something about arenas earlier?"

The princess sighed. "I... I was not yet of age to be considered renown. But I trained and fought, as any girl my age should, and I did not disappoint my father." Her face shifted, smiling more clearly. "Of course, there are battles for women and battles for men. One should not confuse the two, but a man who knows his home is well-guarded can focus on the fight at hand." She paused for a half-second, gathering her courage. "Leon... is your home already guarded?"

He did not know how to answer that question. Not until Britta growled and tugged at the leg of his trousers. "I... I haven't much of a home anymore. And... no. No, I am not married."

She gave a short nod. Ellena was clever enough to have noticed all the signals of uncertainty. She herself was uncomfortable in this new body, but that was akin to breaking in a new set of boots. For him, this was a far greater leap of faith. Regardless of her father's blood oath, she could not force herself on him, even if he was so wonderful. While he could see through her skeletal form to her soul, he was a man of reason, and anyone with eyes could see she was unfit for the foremost purpose of a wife. In her time, girls pronounced barren would take up the slayer's oath. As hard as she tried not to think about it, Ellena could not get the images of those rune-tattooed women with greatswords and death-wishes out of her mind. To be unfit for motherhood was a terrible thing indeed.

But all hope was not yet lost. Uncle must have something here, some old magic that could help! Forcing a smile, she said, "You will find my clothes are sturdy enough for the task at hand." What kind of women lived in his homeland, that they wore clothes unfit for a bit of rough venturing?

Leon nodded. Having run out of excuses, he put his hands on her hips. She was very light. He could lift her off the ground without even thinking about it. With a grunt, he hurled her up toward the balcony. It creaked as her bony fingers caught the railing, but when the wood splintered beneath her hands the goo of her body seeped into the cracks and kept her hold strong. Pulling herself up, she vaulted over the banister with her dress swaying just elegantly enough around her legs for him to notice the undergarment beneath that stretched almost down to her knees. In the brief glimpse he caught, he had just enough time to notice what looked like reinforcements or padding meant to protect her major arteries. Useless now, but an example of the lightweight yet effective armor her people had relied upon.

The princess stood motionless on the balcony, listening to the complaints of the wood as she shifted her light weight. Then she looked back over her shoulder, down at the explorer. "Not a problem." Her voice dropped a little as she added, "Ah... but... after we discover how to restore me... mayhap you would be interested in t-trying to tear my clothes off again?"

Leon was honestly speechless, staring up at the girl as the sun passed through her semi-transparent body and cast a skeletal shadow across the far wall. A few awkward seconds passed, then she darted out of his sight. Her light step barely made the old wood creak. A minute later she returned to the balcony's edge and gestured for the rope, then disappeared back into the workshop to hook the grapnel around something sturdy.

Leon was soon very grateful. When he had climbed high enough on the rope to put his hand on the balcony's railing, it cracked and fell to the ground. There was no way it would have supported the weight of the hook pulling as he climbed. Reaching down, she took his gloved hand and helped him up onto the balcony. The two stared into each other's faces for another long moment. "Ah... Princess Ellena. Thank you, I..."

She nodded, then turned away, but not quickly enough for him to miss how the goo in her eyesockets had started to run once more. Carefully, she led him around the worst parts of the wood until they were on solid stone.

Chapter 8. Message from the Past

+ Uncle's Message +

From among the ruined bookcases, Britta looked up patiently. Her tail wagged as she waited on her master to return. The unmistakable noises of rummaging and ransacking came from above. After a loud crash from above indicated they were being quite thorough in their search, the wolfdog climbed atop a pile of less-hard rubble, turned around twice, then settled down for a nap in the sunbeam. Occasionally her ears twitched up as the bipeds continued their noise.

While these books and scrolls were in far better condition, they were all but useless to Leon. Written in tongues that were gibberish even in ancient times, full of rhyming spells and grave warnings or ciphers that would take even a grand cogitator weeks to crack, they were novelties. He needed history, not novelty, something real and awe-inspiring to bring back. However, Ellena seemed very interested in them, so he kept up the search. Finally, they found a scroll wrapped with blue string. He could not get it open, but the strands seemed to fall apart at her touch. Doubtless something to do with the acids in the goo. There was surely a rational explanation for that and also for why the scroll unwound itself.

Her face lit up with a bright smile, or perhaps that was just the goo refracting light from his handheld luminator. Certainly her skull and bones cast the most unsettling of shadows around this ancient workshop. "I knew it!" she cried out happily. "A message from Uncle Greven! He left this just for me. To my pupil Ellena..." The princess fell silent, reading quickly through the old tongue that Leon was struggling to piece together. "O-oh... oh dear... it says that... that Father forced him to stay behind, even when there was nothing more to be done. I..." Her shoulders slumped. "Oh, dear uncle, I..." Her bony fingers clutched the scroll tightly. "There is a way to undo the curse!"

Leon nodded, as if all this made sense. "Right, undo the magic with a counter magic. As simple as taking apart a gearbox, yes?"

She sighed heavily. "I... I suppose? What is a... never mind. Uncle wrote that if he had to stay behind, he would at least work until he could work no more. He's left me all the instructions to reverse this undeath and restore me to life!" Lowering the scroll, she looked longingly at the explorer. He avoided her gaze, as it is an uncomfortable thing to be stared at by something with only eye sockets and no proper eyes to fill them. "I can be... we could be." She lifted the scroll and stared intently at it once more. "Oh, but we'll have to search all across the grounds to find everything. It will work though, I'm sure of it. If Uncle Greven says so, it will work!" The princess looked back at the explorer. "Leon... will you help me?"

"Of course I will," he replied automatically. "It is the gentlemanly thing to do."

She set the scroll back on the workbench. "And you are a gentleman." Raising a hand to her wispy hair, she ran her fingers through the ethereal fire that flowed from her gooey scalp. "I... but, Leon, once I am human again, we can... c-could we be... together?"

He was thankful to be holding the luminator. There was enough shadow cast on his face to hide the blushing. Certainly the offer sounded wonderful enough, but all the same... well... "Princess Ellena, we have only just met. Is it wise to rush so speedily into such a partnership?"

"It was my father's oath," replied the skeletal girl.

"Yes, but you are not your father. You are your own person, with your own will and your own choices." On the one hand, he was fishing for a way out of this predicament. On the other, the explorer truly did believe this. That added a certain honesty to his tone. "Your father could not foresee this world, or all the things in it. In modern times, it is considered practical and wholesome for a woman to make such choices for herself, so long as she is sound of mind when doing so." Any woman who would marry Eddington had to be two chimers short of a belfry.

"Leon," said the skeletal girl, reaching out to touch his gloved hand. "I ventured far and wide when I still had my flesh. I saw many good men, and killed many evil ones." The simple honesty of those words made her skull seem all the more intimidating. "I think that I could venture far and wide in this new world and not meet a better man than yourself."

He looked at the floor, letting the luminator's rays droop downward. "That is kind of you to say, but I'm a failure."

"And I am the last survivor of a desolated kingdom," she replied softly. "Leon, I-"

Lightly squeezing her hand, he interrupted, "Let's get you set right. Then we can talk about all this, hmm? Now, what do we need, some newt knees or frog warts?"

Setting her jaw, she held up the scroll once more. He was such a strange fellow. "Nothing so arcane. We should be able to find what we need around the castle. These ingredients are simple enough. Now, first is..."

+ Sunset Longing+

Leon was experienced in picking through ruins, which came in very handy as they searched the remains of her kingdom for the ingredients demanded by the spell. He was not entirely convinced that old magic would be of any help, but she was still ambulatory, still made of bones and goo against all known laws of nature, and so he was willing to give it the good college try. As they unearthed old storehouses and foraged through overgrown gardens, the Princess tried to hold back her sorrow at what her kingdom had become.

"This was the Royal Academy," she whispered as they stood watching the sunset from the third floor of a nearly-collapsed building. Though made of marble and ornately decorated, the march of time and lack of care had crumbled pillars, caved in roofs, and turned amphitheaters to ponds. In her gooey hands Ellena held a frog, scooped from its perch on a water lily. It croaked mournfully. "Our finest officers, our greatest spellweavers, all came here. I... even though I am the king's daughter, there were times when I felt unworthy to walk these halls."

Leon tried to think of something comforting to say. As abominable as she looked, in the true sense of that word rather than the metaphorical so often used by high society as a substitute for ugly, the Princess' emotions were undoubtedly still human. "I've seen many a ruin," said the explorer. "Do you know what they all had in common?" She shook her head, the goo swaying around her skull. "Once, all were great. You must be great to leave a ruin. Time eats quickly. The things that the insignificant leave behind do not last long enough to be ruins. They are forgotten within a few generations."

She was silent for a long moment, looking out at the shadows cast in the rubble by the sun. "Thank you, Leon."

"Oh, it's nothing." He sighed. "I'm a ruin myself, these days."

"But that is not ruined which can slumber in soil," whispered the Princess. "And at hero's call even the forgotten may rise."

He glanced over at her. "Beg pardon?"

"Oh, just something in Uncle's scroll." She ran a bony finger down the frog's back as it croaked once more. "He would say the strangest things sometimes." Her gooey eyes lingered on the explorer, then looked away. "I... I haven't seen a single sword in all our searching. Have you?"

Leon rubbed his chin. "Now you mention it, I haven't. There hasn't been a single weapon."

The Princess nodded. "I believe they were stolen. Our metalworking was always envied, and if the witch did not steal them away then looters must have."

"Oh." He frowned. "Do we need a sword for the spell?"

She looked at him, head tilted to the side as if he had just called the frog in her hands a lobster. "Not for the spell, but one should always have a sword to hand, if one is a citizen. It is as natural as wearing clothes." The Princess coughed, and for an instant he thought he glimpsed the desiccated leg of a spiderjockie trying to crawl up her throat before being pulled back down into her gooey abdomen. "You are exceptionally brave to adventure with only that survival blade."

The explorer leaned against the marble banister. Truly, this was a beautiful land now that the fog had gone. He wondered what the people of those villages were thinking, seeing their first true sunset in... well, probably in their lifetimes. "We do not use swords so much in the modern era, Princess. There are new ways of striking blows." The revolver felt heavy on his hip. "I do not wish to speak too much of them now, but I am not unarmed."

"As you say," the Princess replied softly. "I... I was only thinking of how the regiments would drill and display down there in the courtyard. We were the envy of the world. And... and now... now we are forgotten. Struck down not in war, but by sorcerous trickery."

He grunted. "A stab in the back, since they couldn't hope to take you in open battle."

She nodded, the ethereal fire in her hair adding emphasis. "Yes. But we may yet rise, Leon." Nervously, she stepped forward and laid her gooey fingers next to his bare hand. "We might. If..."

The explorer glanced down at her bone fingers. She still had the frog in her other hand, and the creature seemed unperturbed by her touch. He thought of all the things he had seen, all the credit that had been stolen from him. This ancient princess could be the discovery that put him back in the highest tiers of society. He should already have found a way to box her up for shipment back home. Why, he should already have her aboard the balloon and be tacking against the wind. Instead he was here, rooting through ruins in the hope that he would find what she was looking for. And, yes, what he was looking for, though he knew not what that was.

He was tired, even though they had stopped to rest and eat again. Her body looked frail but continually proved up to the rough life of rooting through these ruins. The flora seemed to bloom when she was near, and the fauna were soothed by her presence. Even now a few butterflies were hovering around her hair, their wings adding further color to the sunset's shadows behind them. Casting his eyes back, he could see his own pith-helmed silhouette and her goo-outlined skeleton stretching back along the marble floor.

Her hand brushed against his. With just a hint of reluctance, he folded his fingers over hers. The goo pressed against his flesh, squelched between his fingers, seemed to crawl over his palm... and then consolidated. In a way, it felt like wearing part of a glove, she seemed to meld to every callus on his palm and move with the twitching of his muscles. Utterly inhuman, a bit cold, but not unpleasant. He looked into her eye sockets.

"Princess, you have much courage."

Her gooey face stretched in what was probably a smile. "A leader must inspire her populace." She leaned a little closer to him as the sun sank over the mountains. "And you have much heart, Leon, to help a stranger so freely."

"I-" he began to say, then realized how close their heads were. Mere hours ago he would have reached for his revolver, but somehow he had grown accustomed to the skull beneath what used to be her skin. Horrible as she was, there still remained a human within. "Princess, we... there are still villages scattered about this land. I..."

"They do not remember me, do they?" she looked down at their clasped hands. "But once I am human again, they will see a true leader. I will unite them. I will be their ruler and they my people. It is what they deserve." The last rays of the sun refracted in her gooey eyes, turning them to burning orbs. "To be united beneath one flag, thinking of themselves not as sustenance farmers but as inheritors of a great legacy, and driven as a community by individual strength."

Strong words from an ancient time. He smiled a little in spite of his melancholy. "Do you believe that you can change the world?"

"I believe that I must try, Leon." She leaned a bit closer, setting the frog down on the balcony. It croaked once, then hopped down, back toward its pond. "Will you-"

Excited barking echoed down the marble halls, and just a second later Britta burst out onto the balcony with an ancient ceramic jar clamped between her teeth. She padded up to her master, set the sealed jar down at his feet, and smiled up with a happily wagging tail. Then, suddenly conscious of the poisonous glare aimed at her by her master's bipedal discovery, the wolfdog slowly backed away.

It was too late, the moment had been spoiled and the sun was fully set. Leon bent at the knees and picked up the jar, barely even noticing how her gooey hand tried to cling to his. "Well, well, I didn't think we would find any intact after the state of that storeroom. Jolly good show, Britta!"

The canine whined happily, still stepping backward.

"Why, that's almost everything, isn't it?" asked the explorer with a grin. Certainly all this magic stuff was insane, but rooting through old rubble was why he had come here. It was nice having some help along, especially help that knew the ground. Holding the sealed jar up, he inspected it for damage. "Fine condition indeed. Jolly good show!"

"Jolly," mumbled the Princess. She thought of grabbing him by the shirtcollar and... no, no, such a forced kiss would ruin any feelings he might have for her. A kiss could be stolen between lovers, but to do so with one you merely longed for was unladylike. She huffed quietly, the acids in her gooey body simmering away at a collection of digestible creatures and plants she had stuffed beneath her tattered dress when he wasn't looking. Her new body was strange, but at least it was very clear about what it needed to keep functioning. Almost as if she was expected to be a barely-cognizant undead soldier who served as cannon fodder for a wretched witch.

Walking over to Britta, the explorer carefully packed the ceramic jar in one of her harness pouches. "Well, let's see about the list... ah, you said we'd have to look in the mines for this one?"

The Princess drew her body together and calmed herself by force. He would be hers. Her husband. He had fulfilled the pact and... and he was such a wonderful man. Father truly had known what he was doing. Stepping forward, she took the list from his hands. "Yes. The deep mines should have all of that we can cart out, but Uncle writes that we only need a sliver."

Leon nodded. "Shame that sort of metal is no good for the foundries. If it was iron ore, or copper, you might have the beginnings of a profitable operation here."

She seethed quietly toward the dog, who whimpered beneath her glare. At least the beast had the good sense to be apologetic. "Leon..." the Princess whispered, touching his shoulder.

He turned to look at her, but she could see in his eyes that he was already thinking of how best to navigate an ancient mine. "Yes?"

Ellena sighed. "I... have you another of those flameless torches? It is dark in the mines."

Chapter 9. Into the Mines

+ Mines +

Dark and surprisingly hot, the mine tunnels were as foreboding as he had feared. Ellena explained that volcanic vents were to blame for the heat. They discussed metallurgy and mining while descending through what had once been a sizable operation dedicated to plundering the mountain's considerable mineral wealth. While the march of time had weakened supports and crumbled bridges, enough survived for the party to reach their destination.

"Father always made sure I knew enough about mattered in life," the skeletal princess explained. She scooped up a handful of off-colored rocks and surreptitiously pressed them into her throat when she thought the explorer was not looking. The acids within her began work at once, tugging the raw materials down into her torso and processing what her new body needed. Earlier she had drained a pool of water by simply walking through it. "Mining, manufacturing, logistics, all the things that keep warriors supplied. Especially when the mining was so close to the capital."

Leon mopped his brow and adjusted his pith helm. The luminator poked a hole in this darkness, but the heat was something he just had to keep a stiff upper lip about. "Ah... princess, did your society ever... well, you talk about war quite a lot. How much conquering did you do?"

"Oh," she beamed. "We conquered wherever we went, as is only right."

A nervous feeling began to crawl along his spine. Not a cold chill, it was too warm down here for that, more of a worrying nudge. "Ah. Um, in this day and age, it is rather rude to do so."

She laughed, a bubbly sound. "Yes, yes, I do suppose much has changed. Besides, the world sounds so tranquil from what you say." They reached a fork in the tunnels. She consulted a map, then pointed down a foreboding passage with the luminator he had given her. "No one needs conquering because you've got everyone afraid of fire from the skies."

Behind them, Britta rubbed up against a part of the rock face and sniffed at a suspicious bunch of moss. She would know the way back out even if her master forgot.

Leon tugged at his shirt collar. "Well, it's not so brutish as all that. Her Majesty's Royal Bombardiers are more of a defensive force. There hasn't been a punitive expedition in at least ten years." And since the breaking away of that Fredonian colony across the sea, setting a worrying precedent despite positive diplomatic relations, talk had started to surface that the Queen and the Ministries were losing their iron grip upon the world. A terrifying thought, to be sure. No one wanted to imagine a return to the dark ages, where fiefdoms and those maniacs on the Continent carved up the map. "I'm... well, I'm more asking what you plan to do once you're back to... back to your old self."

The goo around her teeth stretched. "I could not have hoped for a better savior, Leon. You think of my country's well-being at every turn." She had not quite gotten the knack of pointing the luminator, and kept holding it as if she expected hot wax to spontaneously begin dribbling out from the glass. "Once this kingdom produced the finest metals, the most sustaining foods, and armaments of the highest reliability. If the villages you spoke of are even one-hundredth as able as the workers I remember, we will once more be the envy of the world. And... well, Uncle wrote a few other things in his letter. I dare not hope that all are true, but perhaps not as much is lost as it seems."

They had come to a wide cavern, down the side of which wound their path. What remained of a minecart track teetered out into the abyss, and pickaxes that were surprisingly intact hung from pegboards bolted into the rock. Some of the cobweb-covered workshops they had passed looked so orderly that he wondered if they were abandoned just a few weeks ago rather than hundreds and hundreds of years before. All the same, great industrial might in the hands of a conquest-minded monarch could bring terrible tragedy to the world. Every good and loyal subject of the Crown thanked their lucky stars that the Clockwork Queen was such a peace-loving regent.

Leon tried to relax. Even if this skeletal princess decided to embark on some campaign of conquest, she would have only a handful of forces and outdated tactics. A tragedy, surely, but nothing that a good bombardment couldn't solve. But it was his duty to steer her away from any such path of foolishness, and so... "You've no intention of, ah, broadening your borders, then?"

She turned to look at him, confusion as evident as it could be on her skeletal face. "It is the spirit of the people that defines a border, Leon. A regent's concern is to enforce it by the sword." Then the goo around her eye sockets swirled. "Do... do you fear that I will not be able to inspire the people of this land?"

Actually he feared that she would try to take over the world. In all his experience with ancient history, that seemed to be what everyone was trying to do back then. Probably out of boredom. The automated printing press had not been invented back then. He was fairly certain that even the Clockwork Queen would be drawing up plans for global domination to relieve the monotony were it not for bi-weekly pulp magazines and the evening newspaper. At the most recent Globe Fair there had been that intriguing Etheric Broadcast Receiver on demonstration. Had he the currency, Leon would have invested in such an interesting idea, but... He aimed the luminator down, carefully stepping along the rock slope.

The Princess slowed her pace a bit, dropping a half-step behind and quietly palming a clump of glowing lichen. It disappeared up her sleeve, moving as a misshapen lump toward her torso. Chemical composition, estimated age, and expectations for duration of digestion sprang unbidden to her mind. Not as numbers, like the tables and charts Uncle had wanted her to memorize, but feelings. Where once her muscles had ached for action there was now a cold determination. Her natural urge of hunger had faded, replaced by an awareness of the digestive reservoir in her torso.

What was not new was the cold will to kill. That had always been present, sharpened by her father but hers by birthright. Without the will to fight, a nation could not claim any right to exist. All life was a struggle against the natural decline into death. She was still struggling to reconcile that with her new body. Uncle Greven would have all the answers. If only he were here... if only all of them were still here to guide her. Ellena tried to hold herself together. This new world was so lonesome. Before, she had dreaded the idea of marrying a forest elf as part of a political alliance, for it would have meant an end to her wandersome ways and martial lifestyle. Now, looking at the long road of reconstruction that stretched out ahead, she almost longed for that boring fate.

Leon cleared his throat. It was bloody warm down here, and his luminator was constantly reflecting off the shiny rocks and archaic mining equipment. Still, he had to keep a respectable demeanor. To answer her question, he said, "I think once they see life returning to the land, they'll put up three cheers like good lads and lasses. But, well, once you've put all your kingdom back together, what do you intend to do with it?"

That question staggered her. The Princess leaned against the rock wall, her transparent face drawn and depressed. "Leon... it will take so much time, so much work, to rebuild. I..." She stared at him, at the sweat dripping from his noble brow and his far-seeing eyes. How many ruined kingdoms had he explored, that he could think past the heroic challenge of rebuilding her homeland and to a bright future? "I suppose we shall do as we did before. Protect our land. Keep faith with our allies. Train up our youth, that we might stand in the evil day." Her eyes began to melt once more. "That we might never again fall."

He had not quite noticed his hand resting on the butt of his revolver, or thought about what he would do if she answered his questions... well, answered them as Eddington might. Leon could see the honesty in her body language, even if her face was difficult to read. "And what of war?"

"Do you think we will be attacked again?" she leaned back against the wall for support, then forced herself upright. "There is no answer for an unjust war, but a just war must be pursued until the final defeat of the enemy." She clenched a fist. "I... Leon, are you asking if I will seek revenge against the witch? You said that she is no longer known in the world. I cannot imagine she would not wish to be feared if she was still alive." But what did alive mean, really?

He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. The reinforced fibers of her dress still felt elegant. No other choice than to be blunt. "I am asking if the world has any reason to fear you, Princess Ellena. Not for how you look, but for what you intend."

Her head slumped forward. After a few long seconds, she straightened her spine and looked him in the eyes. "I must restore my people, Leon. I cannot allow the witch to win, to erase our names from history. Do we not have a right to reclaim a land that has been deserted?"

That was another problem. Leon was well aware that there would be plenty of touts and unscrupulous prospectors along once word got out that this barren wasteland was teeming with life again. How had a simple expedition gotten so complicated? Just yesterday he had been grumbling to Britta about how tiresome it all was, and now he was trying to console an ancient princess. Finally noticing how his hand had gripped the butt of his holstered revolver, he unwrapped his fingers and sighed. The words would not come.

How could he tell her that the moment she created anything beautiful, someone would come along and try to steal it? How could he explain that if they did, and she lashed out as was proper in the old days, she would be the one condemned? Worst of all, how could he tell her that his first loyalty must remain with the Crown of the Home Isles, where he was born and raised? Leon looked into her strange features, and began to understand just how frightening this world must be for the Princess. Without really knowing why, he reached out and pulled her gooey, skeletal form against his chest. She let out a small gasp, more of a burble, and hugged him tight.

"You are the hero of this land, Leon," she whispered. "Without you, I would not be here to even attempt reclamation."

"Someone would have come along sooner or later," the explorer deflected. "I... Princess, I'll do all I can to help." As odd as her body was, it still felt pleasant to hold her in this way. She was a shock to the eyes for certain. But underneath that, in the way she moved and how she spoke, there was a dignity he had rarely seen in other humans. "But the world is not as you once knew it."

She smiled up at him, more than her usual skeletal grin. "I am certain I can do it, with you at my side, Leon." Their heads were already quite close. She leaned toward his lips. Digestive acids quivered where her heart used to be. Hard to imagine that a warrior like her could be so afraid of a kiss, but what if he rejected her?

Leon himself did not quite know what to do, and the split-second he had to decide was interrupted by frantic barking. At first he thought the disturbing hiss he heard was from the skeletal girl in his arms, then he realized it was coming from behind them, and abruptly he found himself hurled down to the ground. The Princess' reflexes were still lighting-keen, a fortunate thing as a gout of flame hosed the rock face where they had been standing. Britta continued to bark from the side, and another jet of fire scorched the rock around her, narrowly missing the faithful wolfdog.

The Princess was back upright in an instant, but instead of a horrified scream Leon heard her laughing. Happily laughing. His explorer instincts kicked in, and instead of wondering why he scrambled behind the nearest rock that promised some protection. This was almost as bad as that time in the Orient when Eddington had nearly gotten them sold into chattel slavery over a stupid jade vase. Then he peered up over the rock, saw the long, winding neck and flames dribbling from the jaws, and realized that this might somehow be worse. The Princess was not the only monster of old to survive.

Chapter 10. Wivres

+ Wivres +

In his adventures, he had seen many wonders. Pyramids built by the oldest of civilizations. Temple-nodes where cult priestesses of Paxis had once maintained the eternal fires of their goddess. Fossilized remains of giant men, machines, and monsters. The old times had been frightening, but scientific consensus agreed that such things were long dead. This was a new age, one ruled by the intellect of man rather than fear of the mystical. These were the truths he had been raised with and largely considered absolute until today.

Even seeing the princess' terrifying visage had not uprooted his confidence. She was an aberration, but with time and study he was certain that proper science could explain her unfortunate condition. In ancient times herbs and rituals had been used for medicine. Many of those same herbs were now ground up and concentrated for use in advanced medicines, and many of those rituals were strikingly similar to modern healing practices. Even leeches were still used from time to time. Perhaps there was some power in this magic that the Princess hoped would restore her, and if so it too would be worthy of scientific analysis. At least it seemed to use ingredients and a process, rather than those laughable old tales about skilled healers who could bind wounds with a mere touch.

Yes, science might yet remove the enigma from the Princess' ghastly form. But now, with long neck towering above him and mighty claws digging into the rock slope, was a very real scaly abomination right out of the old fairy tales. Certainly dragons were known to exist, but they were flying nuisances, always sunning themselves in a desperate bid to keep their massive bodies heated. This creature was deep in the bowels of an admittedly hot warren of mines, and it looked far more ferocious than the lazy dragons that sometimes bothered airships.

"A dragon!" he gasped in horror as its talons sent a cascade of rock tumbling to the cavern floor far below. The pathway he and the Princess had followed was not terribly wide, zig-zagging back and forth along the wall as it wound downward, and enough old mining equipment littered the ground to trip an unwary foot. It was the worst sort of place for a fight, but at least there was plenty of cover. "Impossible!"

"No, no, not a dragon," called the princess, her voice filled with joy. That terrified the explorer to no end, though he could not quite say why. "Can't you recognize a wivre when you see one? Oh, Augustin, it's me!" She held out her skeletal arms toward the giant monster. It snarled, reared back its head, and huffed a gout of fire. "Stop!" Her voice lost a bit of the bubbly joy. "I might look different, but I am still Princess Ellena and you are still the bond-drake of my family line!"

Britta had snugged herself behind the rock next to her master, and seemed just as dubious as he was about the loyalty of this beast. Dogs were trustworthy companions, they had proper eyes, but cats and venomous serpents had slit pupils. This dragon-thing had the eyes of a snake, and by modern scientific reckoning that was an ill sign for any sort of loyalty. Leon was no believer in head-bump analysis, despite claims that it was reliable in determining that barbarians really were barbaric, but some things just looked evil and this monster with wisps of flame hovering around its sharp teeth was one of them. "Princess!" he called. "Get behind the minecart, or the beast will crush you!"

She hesitated, and would have been smashed to splinters and goop were it not for her lightning reflexes. The wivre's tail smashed a section of track and dislodged even more rock from above. She slid across the rocky ground into cover, her dress scuffed but still mostly intact. Ellena poked her head out from behind the minecart. "Augustin, I have returned! Have you forgotten the little girl you carried on your back into battle?" A bone-rattling roar echoed through the dark cavern. "Or how I cleaned your scales and scrubbed the blood from your claws? It has been centuries, but you must still remember your oaths of loyalty!"

Rising up, commanding every bit of regal presence she could muster, the Princess strode forth from behind the minecart. "Augustin, the kingdom needs you now more than ever." Raising the luminator like a scepter, she pointed the light up at the wivre. "That you have survived so long is a miracle, and I..." Her gooey eyes shrunk in their sockets. A second scaly head rose in the darkness. "I... need every loyal subject... oh."

Leon leaned out from behind cover, shining up his light at the monstrosities. "What is it? What's wrong? Keep talking, I think they're buying the gab!"

Slowly, the princess shook her head. "Neither of these is Augustin. I... a wivre only lives for perhaps two centuries." Straightening her spine, she called out, "I am Princess Ellena, regent of this realm. This is my mountain, my mine, and you are in my domain. Your ancestors served me faithfully, and were rewarded well. Will you honor their legacy?"

The serpentine heads turned to look at one another, then back to the Princess. She stood tall, pointing the luminator upward with both hands. No matter how many times Leon showed her, she still did not quite seem to get the idea of how to hold it normally. All the goo across her body seemed tense, like a spring under pressure. No, like hydraulic fluid in one of the great mechanical clanks that patrolled the Clockwork Queen's palace grounds. God save the Queen. The unmistakable air of royalty surrounded Ellena. Leon did not know if that would be enough. One could not say she was lacking in courage. He hoped a touch of divine intervention might save her too.

With what one might call laughter, the two snake-like heads of the wivres tilted down and belched forth another, wider wave of fire. Leon dove back into cover, cursing himself for not rushing out to drag her behind something. When the smoke cleared, he glanced around the rock again. His heart sank. Not even bones remained. Then he saw an overturned minecart shift. With surprising strength, Princess Ellena shoved off her improvised cover and glared upward. The ethereal fire of her hair burned bright enough to light the ground around the skeletal girl. In her left hand she held the luminator, and in her right a sturdy pickaxe.

"Very well. If you will not honor your ancestor's oath to my family, then I shall bring you to heel as my grandfather did yours!" Leaping forward, the bouncy goo of her legs springing her lightweight form up into the air at unnatural speed, she hurtled toward the nearest wivre with pickaxe held high.

+ Wivre Fight +

From within the princess' gooey body the luminator shined, casting streams of light out through holes in her dress. She swung the pickaxe with both hands. It pierced through the scales of one wivre, who shrieked and tried to claw her off, but the skeletal girl moved too quickly. Sliding down its neck, she brought the pickaxe down into the creature's shoulder joint. Blood gushed out, fountaining into the darkness, but the wivre was far from beaten.

Leon stared down at the spectacle, hardly able to believe his eyes. Certainly there were tales of knights fighting dragons, but he had never imagined that he would see such a thing for himself. Distantly he noticed the other wivre rearing back, about to breathe a gout of fire to scorch the princess off the scaley back of its companion. He was certainly no Fredonian cow-puncher, with a bandoleer slung over each shoulder and a spare shotgun in his saddlebags, but enough large beasts had threatened him on his adventures that he knew exactly what to do. As the princess leaped and struck mighty blows with the pickaxe, he produced his revolver and sighted on the other creature's underbelly.

In the underground cavern, the crack of each big-bore round echoed almost enough to be heard over the din of battle. As blood gushed from its underside, the second wivre paused its attack to scratch in confusion at its belly. Leon was already back in cover when its fiery retort came, dumping spent casings from the cylinder and shoving in a speedloader. He hadn't packed much ammunition. If the first one or two rounds weren't enough to stop a bear, you didn't get a chance to reload. Glancing over the rock, he saw that the bullets had done plenty of good. The wivre was doubled over from deep internal pain, but it wasn't enough to put the beast down. He hadn't a clue where its heart was, and the head moved far too much for him to even think about hitting an eye.

Still, at least he had the edge of modern technology on his side. The Princess was down there fighting on them, seeming to shine with radiance as she pierced deep holes in the beasts. That pickaxe was doing just as much cruel work on scaly flesh as it could do on solid rock. She certainly had a lot more fighting spirit than he had ever given her credit for. This kind of fight called for an Etherostatic Discharge Musket, or a motorized harpoon launcher. The kinds of things Eddington had crates full of on his expedition dirigibles, curse that traitor. Even back in the balloon, all Leon had was an old frontier rifle that used the same cartridge as his revolver. The swipe of a wivre's tail curled around the rock, sprawled him across the ground, and sent his pith helm flying.

The more Ellena swung the pickaxe, the more natural it felt to her new body. Her gooey limbs seemed to adhere to the wivre's scales, giving her just enough traction to strike, yet still let her leap clear when she needed to evade. In her youth she had fought many monsters, but never a wivre. Well, never without a wivre of her own. As she swung, she tried to hold back from weeping. All her old friends truly were gone. She was alone in this new world, with the burden of restoring her family's glory upon her shoulders. The booms of light and sound from the cliff above reminded Ellena that she was not completely alone. She could not quite figure out what Leon was doing, but he seemed to have some magic of his own that was hurting the beasts.

A wand of sorts, from what she could glimpse while she tried to dodge and strike. Curious magic indeed, but she had seen Uncle point his wand and throw bolts of fire. Was magic so common in this new age that her rescuer had not even thought to mention such a thing? It mattered, but not right now. All that mattered now was the swing of pickaxe, the leap and roll as she chipped away at the screaming wivres, the hot kiss of fire that had just missed her. Ellena could not feel the usual rush of adrenaline, the thrill of combat. Instead there was a dull buzz. Cold, heartless, methodical. She was not a berserker in a blind rage. Her body was obedient, focused, driven by the years of knowledge she had accumulated.

Leap, swing, slide. Feel the flow of battle. They were large, dangerous living things. Her body ran cold rather than hot. The pounding of blood in her ears was not there, nor did her heart hammer in her chest. Dismantle the threat. Focus on limbs, break down their ability to attack. Crack the shells, spill the blood, take the hard hits that threw her against the rock and still get back up. A new way of fighting. She could take the claws, but not the fire. From the cliff above came another series of bangs, and one of the wivres shrieked before collapsing. Ellena drove the pickaxe deep into a scaly back. Her goo was cold, but that fountain of blood was so warm.

Panting, a reflex she no longer needed but still had, she stood atop the slumped body of a defeated wivre. It still lived, still squirmed and cried out in pain. Both were down, feebly crawling and clawing. Their seemingly impenetrable scales had been punctured by pickaxe blows and bullet holes. While they lived, they were an obstacle. Impediments. The Princess held her weapon in both hands, raising it high to strike down at the living creature's skull. In death they would be resources. Consumable. Fuel. Cold thoughts about war, rather than hot-blooded decisions made during battle, oozed through her mind. "Snuff out the living things," she murmured.

"Ellena!" shouted the explorer from above, shining his luminator down toward the cavern floor. "Are you alive? Queen's cogs, they didn't fall on you, did they?" His hands trembled a little. It took quite a bit to rattle Leon, but this had done it. He would need a stiff shot of something in his next cup of tea.

Her skeletal arms paused mid-swing. Some of the coldness faded. No, no she was not alive, not really. Not anymore. But she was still Princess Ellena. Lowering the pickaxe to her side, and wishing that her arms would shake just a little as they had when she was human instead of remaining so unnervingly still, she tried to collect herself. The luminator still shone out from her body. Reaching into her torso, she pulled it loose and waved the light upward as a signal. "Leon!"

He let out a breath he did not know he had been holding. "I'll be down as quick as the path allows!" Picking his way across the uneven rock, he left the pile of hot brass casings behind. What a frightful day... but at the same time, his heart was pounding and he felt alive for the first time in too long. This was the thrill of discovery!

"Watch your step!" she called back up to him. He had heart, to stand and face a wivre, let alone two. Perhaps he did not know how dangerous they could be? Ah, but he had the strength of his magic. It was well that he had survived, the thought of which brought the Princess' gaze down to the wounded wivre. "And as for you..." Her gooey hand forced open the creature's eyelid. "I am Princess Ellena. This is my domain." Waving the pickaxe menacingly close to the large eye, she continued, "I do now spare the two of you for the sake of your ancestor's loyalty unto my family. Do not give me cause to regret this choice." Her skeletal face leaned close to the wivre's pupil. "Or I may yet choose to bring this mountain down atop you both."

Weakly, the creature screeched and bent its neck in obeisance. Ellena glared over at the other, who also flopped down in battered fealty. Then she hopped to the ground and straightened her ethereal hair. Her dress was torn and charred from the battle, even more than before, but she could at least smooth her gooey features and try to make herself look somewhat presentable for Leon.

Chapter 11. Doubts

+ Wivre Scream +

His luminator was only mildly goopy when she handed it back to him. "My apologies," the princess said as the goo around her cheekbones discolored. "I needed both hands."

Gingerly holding it between two fingers, as if the goo might come to life and leap up to dissolve his hand, he wiped the gadget clean with a rag from his satchel. "Quite all-right." He peered past her at the defeated dragon-like creatures. "Ah... you really have some guts, jumping in like that with just a pickaxe. Amazing work!"

She smiled. "And you have much courage yourself, Leon. To face two wivres at once! Have you really never seen one before?"

"Never." He shook his head. "They're not supposed to exist anymore, Princess. Many scholars do not think they ever really did exist." Glancing past her again, he stared at the groaning beasts.

"Well, I have another happy surprise for you." Her grin widened. From behind her back she produced his pith helm. Britta had found it shortly before her master reached the bottom of the incline. The faithful wolfdog was accustomed to retrieving his effects after a scrap. This time, however, Britta had clandestinely approached Ellena with the pith helm in her jaws. Perhaps as a gesture of peace, the wolfdog presented it to the skeleton girl before her master arrived. Now, the Princess reached up and re-seated the headgear where it belonged, bringing her head and his rather close. "You cut quite the adventurous figure."

"And you're far more of an adventurer than I imagined," he replied, looking into her skeletal face. It was no longer as disconcerting as the first time he had seen her. Leon wanted to say something else, wanted to grasp the figments of words that ran through his mind, but he couldn't. Not quite, the words just would not come. All he could say when they leaned close together was, "What a lot of blood they got all over you!"

The princess glanced down. Sure enough, her tattered dress was sticky with wivre blood. Her eyes moved from his rumpled yet clean uniform to her raggedy cloth armor, and she shrank back from him. "Oh. Oh yes, I do seem to be quite a mess, don't I..." Her arms had been reaching out to hold him, but they fell to her sides just as her head slumped. She knew all too well what a mess blood would make of his nice clothes.

Still, she might still have her kiss, if... rising up on her tip-toes, she leaned toward him. Leon leaned toward her, not quite sure of himself. It was an odd thing to do, but she was an amazing sort of girl and he had done many strange things in his adventuring career. Besides, so far her body had not dissolved him. What harm would a little more contact do?

Their heads arched together, until the very centimeter just before their lips met. Looking full into each other's eyes, they were just about to kiss when an unearthly screech of pain from one of the wivres sent both adventurers leaping backward and grabbing for their weapons. It had been nothing, of course, merely one giant lizard hissing flame into the other's wound to seal it, but nerves once rattled were not so easily calmed.

Leon cleared his throat. "Ah... that is quite a lot of blood. Are you certain you are uninjured? Do you... do you bleed still?"

"I do not know," she replied honestly, glaring daggers over at the wivres. "Leon, would you-" she wanted to ask for that kiss so badly, and yet could not quite get the words out. Her throat and mouth felt cold. The living were continual disappointments. Clenching her fists, she forced out, "Would you check ahead for the ingredients, please? I think I need to have another word with the wivres."

He reached out and set a hand on her shoulder. "Princess, I... I think you're an amazing girl."

A lump formed in her throat. He was the amazing one, with his handy magic and his eagerness for exploration. "T-thank you, Leon." She turned to grab him, to kiss him before the chance got away, but he was already off toward the mouth of a cave, following the minecart tracks. Ellena simmered, furious at herself, and stalked toward the giant lizards.

Yes, she had been foiled again, but not for very much longer. Soon she would be her old self, and he would be hers. Oh yes, he would be hers...

+ Contemplating Madness +

Fortune was a fickle mistress, but it cut in his favor this time. In the depths of the hot mines were veins of the ores they sought, along with what appeared to be sizable deposits of copper and tin. The miners of old, with hand tools and ancient mining techniques, had done a commendable job of clawing away at the rock. It was not until he discovered the carts full of coal, ready to be sent up to the surface, that Leon felt that nervous tug again. These mines were deep and well-dug, and from the way Ellena talked there were others like them across the land. Certainly their deposits were trivial if compared to the vast wealth extracted in the colonies and shipped back to the Home Isles for refinement, but in the wrong hands...

That was the crux of his uncertainty. Though he had been wronged in his homeland, he was a loyal subject of the Empire and the Clockwork Queen, God save her. The more he explored this land, the more he realized they had been quite advanced for their time. Yet they had been destroyed within little more than a year. The exact dates were uncertain even to the Princess. He had seen dead civilizations many times before, but there had always been a sense of professional detachment. As he cleared the cobwebs from a minecart and began loading bits of ore into his satchel, he found another pegboard full of tools. Perhaps it was just his mind playing tricks, but this land seemed much like its princess. Not dead, just frozen in time, and awaiting some mystic sign to leap forth once more.

The sudden appearance of such a kingdom on the world stage would cause international instability. It could scarcely do otherwise. Upheavals in the scientific community would fracture the current consensus. For at least a decade every snake-oil peddler and crackpot theorist would be trying to claim that they had a tonic of undeath. Seeing the dragon-things had forced another thought into his mind. What if the Princess was not the only one to survive from those times? She seemed kind enough, but by her own admission her father was willing to commit forces to faraway wars. Leon stared at the row of mining implements, a frown building on his face. What if there were many more like the Princess, just waiting to rise up from the ground? Enough, maybe, to clear the rubble, to work the mines, and to form an army of skeletons.

Wiping his brow, it was a dry heat down here, he tried to keep a stiff upper lip. Come what may, the Home Isles were across the sea and protected by the Royal Bombardiers. His worries about the wrong hands greedily grabbing up all that was here were probably just echoes of Eddington's betrayal. Princess Ellena had a courageous heart and a sweet disposition... even though she looked like a snot-covered marionette. He winced at the thought. It was unkind, very much so, but not entirely inaccurate. The fashion models of home, young ladies of good breeding bedecked in gowns and jewels, were infinitely superior to her in looks. And yet there was a primal sort of beauty she had demonstrated as she fought those scaly beasts. Most girls were like flowers, delicate and in need of great care, but she was the sort who could look after herself. Especially with the body of an undead shocktrooper.

Insane, really. All of this was mad. Perhaps he was hallucinating the entire business, but probably not. Britta would have nosed him awake by now. This was too strange for a mere dream. He had uncovered not merely a kingdom, but a regent, and quite on accident rescued her from endless sleep wrought by a terrible witch. That thought did cause a bit of a chill to run down his spine. The IAPCDP maintained that the Soul Plague was a terrible disease, one that must never be allowed to rise again. He faintly remembered that their medical missions to different parts of the world were also focused on gathering information about illnesses that could cause global extinction. If they knew that the plague was a biological weapon, and the Princess knew where the one who originated it supposedly dwelt long ago, they might be willing to fund an expedition.

Then again, perhaps they would send more than a research team. The IAPCDP had a long history of heroic medical work, and just as long a record of bloodily enforced quarantines. On many occasions there had been accusations that the organization had stolen private research or stirred up media outrage about any effort to use diseases as weapons. There was certainly a hidden blade lurking in the shadows of their medical tents. It was hard to think of a more noble cause than ridding the world of dangerous diseases, but sometimes that noble cause was pursued by shadowy means.

In any case, the IAPCDP had coin to finance expeditions and reward explorers who brought back useful information. Perhaps when he eventually made his way back home, he could pass along what he had learned about the witch. As it was, since putting the Princess in a box and taking her back to the Home Isles seemed less and less likely the longer he knew her, Leon doubted he would make much money on this venture. There was more to life than money, but most of the time a bit of currency made everything else far easier. For one thing, Britta needed a new harness pack, and he intended to buy the biggest gun he could manage. Giant scaly lizard things were supposed to be extinct!

Chapter 12. Crown Jewels

Leon could scarcely believe his eyes. In an unassuming chest, within a locked storeroom he had broken into out of curiosity rather than intuition, was possibly the greatest find of his life! The glint of gold had been evident from the moment he lifted the lid. Carefully he lifted the silken coverings to reveal a beautiful scepter, inlaid with shimmering jewels. The engravings that sprawled across its surface told of great battles. An amazing artifact, and in flawless condition!

Beneath it, hidden between the silk, was an amulet. A single gleaming purple gem, set in what he was certain could not be steel but looked surprisingly like it, and suspended by the kind of chain he would more expect to lock up a bicycle. On the back of the steel was engraved wording, but he did not recognize the language. It looked more like a child's dress-up jewelry, or rather it would were it not for the beauty of the purple gem. A strange thing, much like the ceremonial pots he had uncovered in the pyramids.

At the bottom of the chest was the great discovery. Even before his fingers gingerly lifted it in the silk, taking care not to touch the metal directly, he knew that his luck had changed. A crown, regal and masterfully crafted, of gold with jewels. Certainly it was of a form quite different than the one that the Clockwork Queen wore while holding court, God save her. Hers perched atop the head and added a good foot to her height. This crown fit close to the scalp and back of the head. Despite its golden construction and gleaming gemstones, it was surprisingly light in his hands.

There was no doubt in his mind that he had found the crown jewels of this kingdom. But how could they have ended up here, far beneath the capital city? A puzzle, to be certain. If they were lumped into a pile of shiny things he could have blamed the wivres, but these had been hidden by human hands. As he turned the crown over, careful to hold it with the silk wrappings, he tried to find a reason. Why here? For that matter, why were the wivres here instead of roaming about the countryside causing mayhem like all the old tales said dragons did?

Could there be a connection? The disease had killed many, but slow enough that steps had been taken to preserve the kingdom's legacy. The Princess was proof of that. Was it possible that someone had hidden away these crown jewels in the dying days of the royal family, so that they would not be taken by the witch when she came to push over the feeble remnants? It was not entirely insane. Scouring the room for other clues, he found nothing but food rations that had long ago turned to dust.

If the wivre Ellena remembered was truly loyal, he might have accepted the duty of guarding the jewels. Everyone back then did seem to think that a hero would be along before too many decades to set all to rights. But the soul plague had been a terrible disease, and the land had remained inhospitable for far longer than anyone had thought possible. Instead of an aged dragon-thing welcoming back his Princess, Leon and Ellena had found the squabbling grandchildren who knew nothing of the treasures they were supposed to keep safe.

Artifacts like these deserved to be appreciated. Wrapping the amulet, he tucked it into his backpack. This was the break he needed. With the knowledge he had discovered and these brilliant crown jewels, he would be Leon Wellesley, Explorer Extraordinaire once again! The whole of the Explorers' Society would be abuzz when they saw these beauties. Museums would pay handsomely to have the touring display. The masses loved to gawk at shiny things, and he would have a book to sell too. He would return from a forgotten wasteland with the facts of its demise and gleaming gold.

There could be no more triumphant turnaround, at least not to his imagination. The ecstasy of gold gripped his heart as he wrapped the crown and stashed it in the bottom of his pack. It was a surprisingly durable thing, lacking the delicate spires and filigree that one would expect of such royal ornaments. Even the scepter seemed more like a mace than a signet of office, but perhaps that was normal for this kingdom. He would not have to tell anyone about the weird undead girl, gleaming prizes spoke for themselves.

Calling Britta over, he began fitting the scepter into her saddlepack. It was too big for his own backpack. She leaned her head to the side curiously as he pulled some of the ingredients for the Princess' mumbo-jumbo spell out to make room. As he worked, he remembered a newspaper clipping that he had glimpsed just before leaving the Home Isles. Eddington would be away for many months, completely out of communication, as he searched the desert with his airfleet.

Yes, he would return with these artifacts, as he had done with the paltry discoveries he found in so many other dead kingdoms. They belonged in a museum, where the people of the Home Isles could gawk at history and then sleep soundly in their beds beneath the ever-circling dirigibles of their protectors. He would be a celebrity, and if he could point the IAPCDP in the direction of the soul plague's source they would certainly express their gratitude as well.

This was a chance to have it all. Not just his future, but the past too! He could set the record straight on just who really did all the work out in the desert. When Eddington came back with whatever scraps he could dig up in the pyramids, he would find a very cold reception indeed! Yes, time was of the essence. Never before had that been the case when he was returning from a dig. He had to beat Eddington home, or more accurately, he had to have enough time to get home, have the crown jewels inspected, negotiate with museums, demonstrate at the Explorers' Society, talk to the press... ah, the list did crawl on. As he finished buttoning up Britta's pack and shut the chest, Leon grinned.

"Well, things are looking up for us, eh girl?" He pet her head. The wolfdog whined and nuzzled against his shoulder. "You'll be eating mutton chops before long, we both will!" Rising back to his feet, he wiped his brow. Had to get out of this infernal heat. Britta didn't care much for it either, he could see that sad expression on her face. Yes, just had to get topside and into the balloon. His stomach was grumbling, but he would choke down some crackers and canned meat during the ride. Had to get back, had to make the most of this find!

Not until he was almost back to the great chamber where they had fought the wivres did Leon remember that this kingdom was not fully dead. It was not a fault of his heart, but his head. The explorer was used to investigating ruins. Usually descendants either did not care about their ancestors' history, or were completely extinct. In occasional unfortunate situation where natives did object to explorers preserving their culture by safeguarding it in museums, trade goods from the Home Isles usually settled all differences. He strongly doubted that the Princess would be swayed by a necklace of beads or a shiny new mirror.

Archaeology was not theft. He certainly had never thought of it as such. It was a form of preserving the past. The dead no longer had use for such things, while the living did, and blimey if there wasn't a pretty penny in it for him. The last explorer who returned with ancient crown jewels had retired. Those pretties were still making tours to museums all around the world and putting sterling in his pocket.

The Princess had other things to worry about. What good would a few baubles do for her? She had said it herself, this kingdom had to be rebuilt. It would be a gargantuan task. Leon fiddled with his logbook and pen, in that uncertain way he did while thinking too hard about something. "A distraction, that's all they'd be..." he murmured. Really, he would be doing her a favor by taking these back to the Home Isles. He was helping her with this spell she wanted to do. Had the ingredients all in his backpack, since the scepter would only fit on Britta.

Time was his enemy. Sure, he would like to stay and look around more, but the sooner he got back to the Home Isles, the sooner he would secure his future. As the enormous wivres came into sight, he tried to make his heart and head agree. The rational thing to do was... why was he even wasting time thinking about this? He had a fortune in waiting. He had already found the rocks that the skeleton girl wanted. All he needed to do was get topside, send her off to work on her hocus-pocus while he made up some pretense to check on the balloon, and cast off.

With her tattered dress covered in blood and lit by the wavering flame of torchlight, probably ignited by one of those dragons, she cut an imposing figure. But there was something about her smile when she saw him, the way the shadows curved around the stretching goo on her face, that seemed welcoming rather than terrifying. Leon knew he had to choose, and cursed himself for it. To stay here, with an ambulatory skeleton who hoped she could resurrect a kingdom, or rush home to glory, wealth, and perhaps even restoring that engagement. The choice was obvious. Any man would make the same decision under these circumstances. He cursed himself for that too.

Chapter 13. Minecart Ride

Her hands squished around his. "Leon, I used to do this all the time. I am certain it will work." She led him toward an intact minecart piled full of the mineral called for by the spell. "The motive enchantment is still functional, and I was able to haul it back onto the tracks."

He leaned away from her, unconsciously keeping his backpack as distant as possible. "It sounds rather dangerous to me. Did people really ride around on minecarts?"

She nodded. "You do need to be careful not to tip it over." Perching on one side, she gestured for him to sit on the other. "It will be much faster than walking all the way back up, even if we have to switch tracks a few times."

He eyed the old metal cart suspiciously, then took off his backpack and settled it in his lap as he sat down on the opposite side. Britta pulled herself into the cart and snugged between them. The gooey press of the Princess was on one side of the dog, and her master's familiar back on the other. Ellena patted a glowing glyph on the side of the minecart. It lurched forward, grinding its way up the track under its own power. Leon listened for the hiss and chug of some kind of engine, but could hear nothing other than turning wheels.

"What powers this device?" he asked curiously.

"There's something buried under the tracks," explained the Princess. "I don't understand it myself, Uncle set it up, but it leads very deep in the mines to the hottest part. I think it channels the heat out through the tracks. The carts move on their own, but it won't work without whatever is buried." She folded her arms around herself. "I... I wish I knew more, I really do. There are so many things I wish I understood."

Leon stared down at his backpack. "Everyone feels that way, Princess. We all have to keep calm and carry on as best we can."

Leaning toward him as the cart continued to chug up hill, she smiled. Her skeletal hand reached over toward his. "I found the strangest things inside the wivre's wounds. These little rocks, driven deep through the scales. Do you have some kind of slingshot?"

He chuckled. Even with her skull on display, she seemed so innocent. Maybe it was because she had nothing to hide. "No, no, it's... well, I suppose it's like that in a way. We don't use slings and arrows much anymore, but we do use projectile weapons. An explosion pushes the bullet, that's the bit you've got, out the barrel very fast. Far faster than any sling could."

"Amazing!" she offered him the deformed bullet. "Would you like the others back as well?"

"Oh, no, that's quite all right. They're not re-usable." He frowned. "Well, they are, but... they have to be melted and fitted back into casings. It's simpler to pack more ammunition than to pack reloading equipment."

Her gooey fingers closed around the bullet once more. "Ah."

Leon began to feel nervous again. A monster like her with such weapons could be a grave threat to the world. While the Royal Bombardiers surely would prevail, especially once they wheeled out the Electrodyne Coils and Tallboy earthshakers, he tried to tell himself it was for the best that he leave as soon as possible. The more he was around her, the more modern dangers she would learn about. As they zipped up through the mines, the two chatted about trivial things. He asked about the wivres. She asked if he had a family. With Britta sandwiched between them, there was no opportunity for the Princess to lean too close to him.

Really, that was for the best too. Once he returned home and was flush with silver, the engagement would surely be back on. He could give up his wandering ways, rake in the royalties, maybe go out on one or two big expeditions for old time's sake. Better for everyone this way. The Princess probably wouldn't even miss him for a few days.

Ellena watched the cave walls as their cart chugged along, lost in thought about something or other. The explorer's stomach gurgled as the cart slowed to a stop near the mouth of the tunnel. "Leon, are you hungry?" she asked, hearing the vibrations of his gut even though she no longer had ears. Perhaps her entire body was an ear now. "Oh, it has been hours since tea, hasn't it? I-"

Seeing his chance, he opened the upper part of his pack and began putting the ingredients she needed for her spell into the minecart. "That's quite all-right. I've some rations up in the balloon. Why don't you get started on your... eh, your hocus-pocus, and I'll have some supper?"

Ellena reached across the cart and touched his arm. "The spell cannot be cast until the moon is high in the sky." She leaned toward him. "Why don't I lay hands on a bow and fix you some supper?"

Guilt prodded him in the gut. His hand brushed against the silk covering the amulet in the bottom of his backpack. "I... that's very kind of you, Princess, but I-"

"I insist," she squeezed his arm and smiled. "Could you get all of the ingredients to the tower for me? I'll be back with some venison before long."

Britta's ears perked up, and she whined happily. Even the little voice in Leon's head urging him to rush back to the Home Isles quieted. The prospect of fresh meat after so long on rations and crackers was tempting. "I... I suppose..."

Her hand lightly touched his cheek. She was cold, and the goo felt nothing like human flesh, but there was a kindness behind it that almost made up for the visible bones. "It's about time I did something to thank you for all you've done. I shan't be long. There's plenty of game to be had in our woods." Turning away, she strode proudly out of the mines.

His fingertips brushed over the silk covering the crown. Guilt got the better of him for an instant. "Princess..."

She looked back, casting a skeletal shadow across the gravel. "Yes?"

He bit his tongue, then forced a smile. "Be careful out there. Please."

That pinching motion of her gooey face might have been a wink. He could not tell. "Thank you, Leon. I will." And off she went. Where she was going to find a bow, he had no idea, but she seemed confident enough to chase down a deer and break its neck with her bare hands if she had to. Another chill of fear ran down his spine. What would she do if she had an army...

Leon shook himself. No point dwelling on such things. As far as either of them knew, there was only one of her. A lonely existence. Pushing the minecart toward a dumping station, he shoveled the minerals into a wheelbarrow and set the other ingredients atop the pile, then began hauling them toward the tower. First supper, then he would leave. Better for everyone. Back home, to wealth, leisure, and a reliable engagement with a girl who actually had a pulse. No more fighting wivres, digging through ruined libraries, or discussing the state of the world with an undead warrior-woman. The safe choice, the smart choice, the choice any man would make.

Chapter 14. Supper

The moon was on the rise as he packed the cogitator back aboard the balloon. With the bulky device went several sheaves of notes. He took time to write down what the Princess had told him about the witch's lands, just in case it slipped his memory on the flight. Since the fog had lifted, navigating back across the land toward the Home Isles would be much easier. He wouldn't have to worry about crashing into a mountain, or losing his way because he could not see landmarks. Restocking his ammunition, Leon realized he had relied on his revolver more today than in the entire year prior. As he rigged the balloon for departure, a tantalizing smell reached his nose. Venison, fresh-killed and even more freshly cooked. Britta could smell it even more keenly than her owner, and began nosing his leg.

"All-right," he muttered. "Just let me get the artifacts put away." Reaching down, he began to unbutton the pack on her back. The wolfdog whined, peering up at him curiously as he took out some of the smaller chunks of rock and curious sigils he had found while adventuring with the Princess. Worthless, but such things could often tell archaeologists much about the habits of those who had lived long ago. The teeming masses might not crowd into a museum to look at a garbage pit, but digging through such ancient trash had given him many a useful discovery. Especially in the desert. If Eddington hadn't... Leon tried to shake the thought out of his head. He had to stay focused. Supper first, then he would find some excuse to get back to the balloon. Had to beat Eddington home.

As he reached for the silk-wrapped scepter, the last item in Britta's saddlepack, she squirmed away from him. "Hold fast!" the explorer ordered, trying to grab her, but the wolfdog was too quick. His stomach grumbled, and the pain of hunger gnawed in his gut. Britta stepped close again, nosing at his leg and letting out a little growl of her own. She was hungry too. "The sooner I get these stowed, the sooner we can eat, girl. I just... I'm not sure where to put them." Anywhere would do, but he didn't want such fine things rattling about with the rest. That was what Leon told himself. He was trying to put them somewhere safe, not hide them from their rightful owner. But, Britta was uncooperative. Finally, he sighed and buttoned her pack shut. The smell of cooked meat was calling. "All-right, all-right, but don't make a fuss, hear?" The wolfdog was over the side of the basket before he finished speaking. With a groan, Leon swung his legs over and dropped down onto the grass.

Princess Ellena sat next to a crackling fire. The carcass of a deer was submerged in a cool stream nearby. A sizable haunch cooked on an improvised spit. The liver sat on a flat rock, and Britta immediately padded over to it with drool dribbling off her fangs. Leon shifted his backpack, which felt suddenly very heavy despite containing little more than the crown and amulet, and sat down. "Smells wonderful."

The firelight cast pleasant colors throughout her gooey body. "I found some of the palace's cutlery." She held out a plate full of well-cooked venison, and what looked to be a genuine silver fork. "It's amazing what survived... and what did not."

"Thank you," he said gratefully. The meat tasted as good as it smelled. "Did you do this often? Camping, I mean."

Ellena nodded. "When one adventures, one must know such things. I... yes, Anna was usually along to take care of the trivial, but Father wanted me to know all the things a Princess should." Her cheeks seemed to take on a bit more of the fire's red glow. "Is... is it not to your liking? Do people no longer cook in this age? Are there machines to cook for you? I'm sorry, I-"

"It's delicious," he assured her. "And we do still cook, but... well, royalty usually does not." The idea of a noblewoman, like that fine bird Eddington had scored, lowering herself to such common tasks was laughable. That was what the help was for. But Ellena was an old-fashioned kind of princess, from the days when being nobility meant you had to do for yourself and others too. "What kind of adventures did you have? I remember something about fighting crab-people?"

"Oh yes," she nodded. Through a rip in her dress he could see a large lump of deer breaking apart into smaller chunks, all dissolving within her torso. She had laundered her clothing in the river, but blood never really did come out. "Do you still have them crawling up on your shores? What sort of adventures do young warriors have these days?"

"Less than you would think. Most of my life has been spent documenting the past."

She sighed, a burbling sound. "Magic seems to be so common in your world. You have flying machines, you carry around wands that spit fire, and there was that clicking device that spat out scrolls. With such convenience, I wonder if there is any adventure left to be found." The Princess smiled, resting her chin on a skeletal palm. "Maybe we could search for it together, someday."

He swallowed nervously. "Maybe. All the machines are a lot of trouble to keep running. I could hardly believe that the magic minecart still worked."

She leaned her head to the side. "Why wouldn't it? Nothing has been done to dispel the buried leylines. The mine tunnels were in better shape than the castle."

Off to the side, Britta ravaged the liver. Her teeth tore hunks from the meat, and her tongue lapped up the dark, nutritious blood.

"I suppose you're right. Machines seem to break down a lot more often. I'm always having to fuss with the balloon." Again he thought of leaving. The explorer swallowed another bite of meat. "This venison is fantastic, Princess. Thank you again."

Her gooey hands folded together, and sparks from the fire refracted in her eyes. "I learned to cook game in that fashion while sojourning in the north. There are tribes up there, little trading outposts really, that can trace some family lines all the way back to the time when Paxis ruled all the world."

Leon raised an eyebrow. "That's more than the people who currently dwell in what used to be the heart of Paxis' empire can say. Their aqueducts can't be missed, and some of the temple nodes are museums, but that's all." He speared another bit of tender meat with his fork.

Her head drooped a little at that news. "I suppose the fire truly has gone out. There were... I suppose you would call them cults, but they were a legitimate religion if small. People who believed the Horned Torch could return, that the goddess who guided Paxis to global domination would once more extend her blessings if the right prophecies were fulfilled."

"Ah." He nodded. "We have them nowadays too. We call them devil-worshipers. Maniacs trying to bring back the old gods." A smug grin spread across his face. "Crazy, really. We have all the wonders of Science, and the Queen's own sanctioned faith, but they want to go back to the days of war-paint and child sacrifices. Besides, if their old gods were so mighty, why did they fall?"

Princess Ellena was very quiet for a long moment. Hauntingly so, as she neither needed to breathe nor move. She sat as still as stone upon the grass, looking at him as if she expected something to happen. When it did not, she slumped backward onto the grass and stared up at the stars. "Leon, you are the bravest man I have ever met, to shake your fist in the face of the gods so."

"It has been centuries since people quivered before the might of angry gods. Now they quiver before angry scientists, angry politicians, and angry mobs." He set the empty plate down and rubbed his eyes. Yes, he was very tired, and now he was full of food. The night was peaceful, with crickets buzzing in the far distance and the gentle burble of the nearby brook. He leaned back against a fallen tree and stared up at the stars. The lumps in his pack pressed into his back, but not enough to be worth shifting. Everything seemed so tranquil and happy. This was far from the bustle and bright lights of the Home Isles' busy cities, yet he felt a sense of belonging. Ellena crawled closer, and shyly put a hand on his shoulder.

"Are you tired?" she asked softly.

He nodded, then remembered how urgently he needed to return home. Trying to sit up, his exhausted body complained until he leaned back against the tree again. Her gooey fingers oozed through his clothes. "It's nothing, really, I just..." Leon stifled a yawn. "What a day it's been." Looking up at her, at the way her skull was framed by that ethereal hair and how the starlight refracted through her gooey body, anyone would say the princess was terrifying. But it was the sort of terrifying that was comfortable to have around. Like Britta, her muzzle covered in blood and scraps of liver hanging from her teeth as she gobbled up the last scraps before flopping down with a content grin. After a moment the faithful canine padded over to the river and began washing her head and paws.

"I do not feel tired, Leon. I... perhaps it was because I slept for so long, or maybe I..." She settled next to him on the grass. "Maybe I no longer sleep. Wouldn't that be strange, Leon? I've never seen an undead resting."

He chuckled. "I had never seen an undead existing until today, Princess. If you don't sleep, well... there's a lot of people who'd be envious of that."

She nodded. "I am always hungry though. Always. Sometimes just a little, sometimes a lot. I... I'll be glad when I am back to my human self."

The explorer smiled. His eyes kept fluttering shut. Again he tried to sit up, but he was too tired and full. "I'm sorry, Princess, I need..." He was going to say that he needed to go, to get back to the balloon and check on some little excuse. His fortune waited back home. Forcing himself upright again, he called, "Britta! Come, we should..." before his eyelids drooped shut. Her arm slid around his shoulders before he could hit his head against the tree trunk. "Uhh..."

"You can rest, Leon." She smiled kindly, or as kindly as a goo-faced skull could, as her arms eased him back onto the log. "I cannot begin the spell until the moon is high in the sky." There was a touch of sadness in her voice. "I have asked so much of you already today."

"Can't rest," he muttered. "Got to... before Eddington..." One of his hands grasped at the air. "Reclaim what is... mine."

The Princess leaned her head to the side curiously. "Only the two of us are here, Leon. Well, us and Britta." She eased off his pith helm and ran her fingers through his hair in what was meant to be a calming manner, but just ended up making his head slimy. Embarrassed, she tried to mop the goo back into her hand. "Leon, before you sleep, c-could we..." Leaning close, she glanced at his shut eyes for just a moment before pressing her lips to his. A mild snore from the explorer rebuffed her advance. The Princess muttered a string of very unladylike words as she pulled away from him and folded her arms in a sulk.

Those herbs should have boosted his libido, not put him to sleep. Maybe it was the stress of the day and not her cooking, but all she wanted was a kiss! Yet Leon was sleeping the sleep of the just, and it would not count if she simply stole what her heart longed for. With a huff, she picked up the plate and fork. After all Leon had done, she could not begrudge him some rest.

Chapter 15. High Moon

+ High Moon +

The fire burned low, and the moon crept higher in the sky. Leon snored peacefully, his wolfdog curled up at his side. Last night dense fog had obscured the stars. Now the constellations twinkled. Ellena finished skinning the deer and preserved the meat as best she could. All the ingredients for her spell had already been carried up to Uncle's workshop. In theory she could perform the casting anywhere, but there was a feeling of magic there. She wanted all the help she could get.

Her new body did not seem to tire, so long as she had fuel. Ellena had the feeling that she could lay down next to Leon and fall dormant, but it would not be the same. Not a sleep, but a preservation of resources until threats came near. The Princess thought she had slept for long enough anyway. Even the stars above looked different than she remembered, having moved in their celestial dance since she last saw them. This was a strange new world. She had to be brave.

Fireflies frolicked in the trees, and she heard the hooting of owls. The moon was still on the rise. It was almost time to begin. Reaching out toward Leon, she nearly shook him awake, but the sight of her skeletal hand gave the Princess pause. This was not her body. This was not what he wanted. Who could blame him? She was a monster. Not for very much longer, thankfully. A small smile crept across her gooey face. Uncle had planned for everything. The spell would turn her back to human. She would live with her husband and restore this land. Leon did not think of himself as a hero, but true heroism was in your own actions, not what others said about you.

Rising up to her full height, she made sure the fire was in no danger of spreading and turned toward the crumbling tower. When Leon woke, he would see her as she had been so very long ago. Young, strong, and ready to lead the kingdom. Then they would kiss, and he would be as glad to be her husband as she was to be his wife. Ellena clung to that dream as she entered the Grand Magus' workshop.

+ Leaving+

Light shining from the Magus' tower was the first thing Leon saw when he woke. He yawned, then jolted awake as he realized how high the moon was in the sky. How many hours had he lost? Too many. He had to get back to the balloon, had to get back to the Home Isles! Britta uncurled next to him as the explorer stood. He stopped to douse the fire. Old scouting habits forbid him to leave such a thing untended. The Princess was nowhere in sight. Certainly she was in the tower, working her magical hoo-doo.

"A fine time to go," Leon whispered to himself as he straightened up from putting out the fire. The tower was on his right, grim and foreboding despite the light coming from the workshop. Surreptitiously he checked his pack to ensure that the crown jewels were still there. Of course they were. She had no idea that he had them. She never needed to know. Artifacts, that's what they were, artifacts that belonged in a museum. Gold was such a delightful thing. To his left was the balloon's anchoring. He turned away from the tower toward home, and glory, and fame, and... and all the good things.

Britta gave a low whine. He glanced back at her. "Come on, girl." She stood by the fire pit, her head hanging low. "Come, Britta. That's an order!" With reluctant steps, the wolfdog padded along behind him as they returned to the balloon. This was not easy for him either. Today had been such a whirlwind, but he would be insane not to seize this opportunity. The Explorers' Society had a long corridor full of paintings, busts, and statues of their greatest members. Perhaps he would have a place there, but at the very least he would have a comfortable financial future.

Climbing into the balloon's basket, he cast off and began their ascent. Britta slouched in a heap rather than hanging over the side with her tongue lolling out like usual. Dogs had a way of reflecting their owners' moods. No, more than that, they had a way of reflecting the conscience. He looked up toward the sky and saw low storm clouds rolling in. It was well that he was leaving now. He would be able to get up above those storms and perhaps outrun them entirely.

"Hurrah, ye boys," murmured the explorer as he heated the air in the balloon. "We're homeward bound!" He tried not to think of Ellena. There was a girl back in the Home Isles, a nice safe engagement. He could have a little cottage out in the green and pleasant countryside, and Britta would be able to run about all she wanted. No more putting his life in peril for old rocks or having his work stolen by untrustworthy partners. A comfortable life, the wise choice to make.

From down below, echoing across the rocky ruins, came a sound that chilled his blood. Not words, it was far too horrid to have anything in common with speech, and it stretched out like a man pulled apart on the torture rack with just as wet and abrupt a conclusion. Unmistakably a scream, yes, a scream of such pain that his bones ached just from hearing it. His hands froze on the ascent lever, and his eyes turned back to the tower. While he had put out the campfire himself, it took his eyes a moment to recognize just how dark the landscape below was. No light came from the Magus' workshop.

Any scream like that was something a sane man would avoid. He looked down at the crumbling tower and clenched a fist. Already he had everything he needed. What difference would it make if he returned? There was nothing to gain, nothing at all, and it would be far more difficult for him to extricate himself. The storm clouds were rolling closer, lightning crackling between them. If he was to leave, it had to be now. Britta came to his side and put her front paws on the edge of the basket.

He looked over at his traveling companion. "We have to leave. I... there's nothing I could do, anyway." Leon swallowed hard. "Britta, we're no strangers to danger, but we already have the crown jewels. There's a fortune waiting for us back home, and we'll finally be able to put Eddington in his place!" Letting go of the balloon's ascent lever, he rubbed the wolfdog's back. "You remember what he did to us, right?"

She nodded.

"We have to go. We have to." He bit his lip and stared down at the canine. "Right?"

Her only response was to continue looking over the basket's edge. After a long moment, Leon's shoulders slumped. The pack on his back felt so heavy. Against his better judgment, he reached out for the descent cord. It was the explorer's instinct in him.

"I would go mad wondering," muttered the young man. "And what good is a fortune if you're too loony to spend it?" As he landed the balloon again and hurriedly anchored it, the storm clouds above blotted out the stars.

Chapter 16. Return

Rain began to fall right after he entered the tower. Leon glanced back outside at the stormy clouds above, then at his anchored balloon. His chance to leave was gone. The faint smell of smoke curled through the air. He moved around the fallen bookcases and bits of stone by the light of his luminator. All the candles that the Princess had lit to brighten up the tower had been extinguished. It was as if a great rush of wind had blown them all out at once. Britta sniffed curiously, then bounded forward to the ladder they had put up to the balcony above. She pawed at one of the rungs.

"That would be a good trick, girl," Leon smiled. "But let's not try it just yet." Holstering the luminator, he climbed up the ladder with no small amount of trepidation in his heart. The workshop above was dark, with distant lighting flashing occasionally through the windows. He stepped carefully across the balcony and onto the stone floor. Swaying the luminator back and forth at chest level, he called out softly, "Princess?"

No answer came. His hand gripped the butt of his revolver once more. Rain began to patter in earnest on the top of the tower. A jolly fine mess he had gotten himself into. Perhaps the Princess had abandoned him, found some old beau who also managed to survive all these years. He should have left when the weather was clear. Taking a cautious step forward, he swung the light toward the empty workbench where all the ingredients for the spell should have been.

Uncertainty needled at the back of his neck. The luminator cast eerie shadows around the workshop, but he was used to such tricks of the light in tombs. It took more than a bit of stretched darkness to scare him. There was an odd smell in the air, more than just the smoke of those snuffed candles. A flicker of paranoia directed the light beam toward the ceiling. Nothing, no horrible monster waiting to leap down on him from the rafters. Still, he did not let go of the revolver. "Princess Ellena?"

A sudden gurgling from the floor sent him jumping backward. He pointed the light at the sound, along with his revolver. It was several long seconds before he realized what he was looking at, and that for the second time today he held the Princess at gunpoint. But this was not the skeletal form who had risen from the marble. Nor was it the gooey shocktrooper he had watched maul two giant lizards. What looked up at him from the stone floor could be called a face, but a face pressed flat and twisted into an expression of agonized defeat.

A puddle of goo! That was what she had been reduced to. Her bones were limp as rags and her body spread all across the floor. It was the sort of sight he never again wished to lay eyes upon, yet could not look away from. There were her arms, her legs, and even her skull, all smushed flat as oriental origami left in the road. Outside rain fell and thunder cracked. Leon very nearly lost his supper. He had come in search of a friend and found a horror. That was what she had become to him, a friend.

Curiosity had been satisfied. What kept his feet rooted was guilt. Something had gone terribly wrong. Had he been here he could have helped! The right man in the right place and all that. Biting down the bile in his throat, he stepped closer to the gooey mass. All that remained of her dress were shredded embers scattered around the puddle. "Princess..." he stammered.

"Leon..." her voice was barely a whisper. It dawned on him that she was still alive, still conscious even in this state. A fresh form of torment for a girl who had already suffered so much. "Are you really there?"

He had to say something. "I'm sorry, I had to... had to re-anchor the balloon." True enough. "I wasn't expecting to be staying so long."

The goo shifted. Not enough to matter, just enough to confirm his fears. Queen's cogs, not even lobotomized prisoners suffered like this. He reached down, trying to take her hand. The goo oozed up around his fingers as he touched her skeleton. What should have been a hard bone felt like rubber.

He tried to keep a stiff upper lip. "What happened?"

Ellena's response came slowly. "The stars. Uncle didn't... didn't plan for the stars' new positions." Waves spread across her flattened body. "His spell would have worked if performed centuries ago, but..." The gooey puddle quivered. "My fault. I... should have thought to account for the stars. Astrological magic was not something I had yet studied when... when the plague came."

Her goo had engulfed up to his wrist. The soggy, limp feeling was a sharp contrast to her earlier strong touch. "Can it be attempted again? I'll go get more ingredients, and you can tell me-"

"No." Her face twisted again. "It nearly destroyed me, Leon. The spell... it is modified. Improvised by his... his great mind. It was once intended to turn undead. Uncle adapted it to return someone from undeath instead, but..." Her ooze slid back down from his skin, then struggled to crawl up his wrist again. "Only within those alignments. I do not... I cannot understand how to correct the incantations. It weakened me, softened my bones. Trying to... undo what the curse turned. Living to unliving." She searched for the right word. "Ore. Metal." What remained of her body shivered. "I am... sorry."

Setting down the luminator, he reached out and touched her cheek. Strands of ethereal hair splayed out through the mess of goop. His fingers pressed down into the puddle, lifting up her head. For an instant her skull seemed rigid enough to hold the goo around it, her spine able to stiffen. He tried to hug her close, but after a few seconds she melted back through his arms. Only a faint residue on his sleeves and shirt remained.

"This is my fault," he said bitterly. "I should have been here with you. I'm the reason you're like this."

"No, no, do not say that! I... I am happy to have had even this one day with you, Leon. Thank you for all you have done for my kingdom, and... and for me." Her voice grew a little fainter. "Please, I must ask one last favor. Do not let us be forgotten. Take... take everything you can back to your home. Tell the story of my people. Let this new world know what truly happened to the old. If you will do this for me, then the witch will not have won."

He squeezed her hand. She was asking him to leave, to abandon her like this. A fate worse than death or undeath. The rain outside pattered like tears from the heavens, while the low rumble of thunder echoed across the mountains. Slowly, he shook his head. Pulling off his backpack, he reached inside. "I... I wanted to give you this at a happier time," said the explorer as he withdrew the crown. It was not entirely a lie. "But you must have it now. It is yours, not mine." A difficult thing to say.

As he set the crown on her head, her gooey eyes widened. For a moment she was able to pull herself together. She was Princess Ellena, wearing her father's crown. Then her strength ran out, and she collapsed into a pile of goo that oozed out over his boots. "Leon..." she whispered. The goo pooled around the crown. Her rubbery bones felt so frail in his hands. What was it she had said, the spell had tried to undo death but instead had robbed her of whatever kept the magic working? The explorer knew nothing about magic. But as he stared down at her, at the way her gooey form clung to the metal crown even though her bones could not form the structure needed to wear it, he began to wonder.

"Metal," he said slowly. "That's what is missing from your bones?" Could it be that this adaptive plague was some sort of microscopic bacterium that converted bone to a conductive element? Was there actually a scientific explanation for all this? Curiously, he set his luminator into where her stomach cavity should be, then drew it out. Sure enough, just as when she had passed it to him in the caves, goo clung to the casing of the energized light. He switched off the device, and much of the goo dribbled back down to rejoin her body. "An electromagnetic field... but there's no bacterium I've ever heard of that converts bone to metal. What manner of sorcery was this witch using?"

Her goo squeezed against his fingers. "Few understood her secrets, Leon." The Princess' voice was weak, and each sentence seemed to sap her strength. "Her armies were terrifying. Some... some spoke of fanged monsters who fed upon the blood of the living, others told tales of buzzing swarms that could strip the flesh from a man's bones even through his armor." Her goo pooled up around the crown. "But it seems she is forgotten now. If we are not, then... then we will still be victorious."

An electromagnetic field carried by her bones. They needed reinforcement, shielding, proper conductivity. Rubber was an insulator. Small wonder that she could not move about with her bones turned to it! But rubber did have tremendous shock absorbing properties. If he could just solve the connectivity issue, she might become stronger than before. So many uncertainties, but he could eliminate many variables with simple tests. This was a mechanical problem. His mind understood those quite well. Any young sport from the Home Isles was handy with a wrench, but long years spent keeping temperamental machines together far away from resupply had given him plenty of practice.

Straightening his back, he pointed the luminator around the workshop. Tools for ancient spellworking were all around, but perhaps they could be reoriented to serve the purposes of Science. Ah, but he needed materials. The mines! Why, a fortune of copper, iron, and coal sat in carts just waiting to be exploited. He could do this. Leon knew he at least had to try. Reaching down again, he scooped both of her hands into his. "Princess, would you trust a chance in the strange magic I have brought? I know not if it will help, but I will try everything in my power. I... it may hurt."

Her voice did not carry hope, but the answer was what he needed to hear. "I trust you, Leon."

The dim electrical field exuded by the human body seemed to help her hold together when he touched the goo. Medical studies suggested that the heart emitted its own unique field, the tracking of which could be of great help in diagnosing a patient. Raising what remained of her hand to his mouth, he lightly kissed it as a gentleman should. Then, before it trickled back down to rejoin her body, he pressed her rubbery bones and trickling goo against his chest. For a few brief seconds, the span of his heartbeats, her arm held together.

This could work. It had to work. He would have to make it work. Standing, he looked about. So much to do! Well, he had a full stomach and a few hours of sleep. Striking a match, he began relighting candles so he could see better. Lightning crackled outside. First he would have to see what was available in this workshop. Then he needed to fetch the generator from the balloon. There had been racks and rooms full of equipment down in the mines. He would have to go down there for the materials anyway...

Chapter 17. Preparations

The storm outside was a steady drizzle with occasional bursts of thunder. The sky of this land seemed to weep for its Princess. Not the strangest thing he had seen today. An electromagnet, that was what he needed. Iron core, copper wrappings. She had the power within, but with an insulator like rubber there was no way for it to be channeled. A fatal problem for a system using a form of direct power distribution, but if he could purpose that insulator to shield the copper cabling it could make for very strong electromagnets. His pencil scratched furiously across the page as he made calculations. There was always the portable Electrosphere Dynamo he had aboard the balloon for field repairs. A proper mechanics' shop would have the sensors and armatures to fine tune the process, but he might as well wish for a dirigible full of Royal Engineers to drop from the clouds.

He had shoveled coal many times before. From coal came steady heat, which turned water to steam, and steam pressure was the fountainhead of modern mechanical progress. While he did not have a full blacksmith's shop aboard the balloon, there was a smelter and forge down in the tunnels that he managed to reactivate. He was a machinist by necessity, as were many in the modern age, and metalworking was a key part of that job. The great copper gears, steel beams, and brass fittings that knit the Home Isles together atop rolling plains of concrete and cobblestone were everyone's concern. He had never expected to use such skills with equipment as ancient as this, or in so wild a land.

This idea was quite insane. Leon knew that. Shoving iron wedges into what remained of someone's bones, then winding copper around them. It would kill a regular human, but she was not regular. Was that why he had come back? She wasn't like other women. Eddington had always been a socialite, most at home in a smoke-filled club, but Leon was an explorer at heart. He lived for the thrill of discovery. Sweat ran from his brow as he labored in the mines, turning ingots of copper to shining threads. He knew how it felt to be abandoned. Deep in his heart, Leon knew he never would have found those crown jewels without her. He would have run in terror as soon as the giant lizards reared their heads. To fly away and take all the credit seemed too close to that betrayal for him to follow through.

He would put her back together again. Modern science would do what all the magic of the past could not. And when she was back together... Leon was still not sure what he would do. Only that he could not leave, even if the sky were clear, until he helped her. Why his heart felt so he could not bring himself to ask. Peals of thunder shook the night as he trudged back and forth from the mines to the tower hauling what he needed to make the Princess rise again. He had to rig a lightning rod up the side of the crumbling tower, bring in the standing lamp from the balloon, and repurpose more than a few of the workshop's old, odd tools, but at last Leon was ready.

"Princess, this may hurt a lot."

Ripples appeared where her mouth should be. "Is that supposed to make it hurt less, Leon?"

He readied a coil of wire and an iron shank. "I... I just... this should work." Scant comfort, but he could not quite bring himself to say what his heart kept nudging him toward. "I just want you to know I'm doing everything I can." He gently gripped one of her arm bones. The Electrosphere Dynamo hummed softly next to them.

"I know. And..." she seemed to gather her strength. "There's something I have to say."

He looked down at the stone floor. Both of them knew what. "I know, Ellena. I... we've only just met, but... I think I do too." The puddle of goop wiggled a bit nearer to him on the floor as he spoke. "But I want you to know that I would do this regardless. It's the right thing to do."

"That's why I love you, Leon." Her words hung in the air like a pleasant fragrance. All the thunder in the world could not drown them out. "Begin."

He pulled down his welding mask, picked up the tongs, and took a deep breath. Madness, what he was about to do was madness, and yet all in this land seemed so crazy it was almost sane. At least his heart no longer felt quite so heavy.

Chapter 18. Reassembly

Piece by piece, he put her back together. Bendy bones were re-cored with iron and wrapped with copper coil. She gleamed in the flickering candlelight as surges of electricity, pulled from the lightning outside, jump-started magnetic fields. The ooze that spread across the floor began to pull itself together. Limb by limb, bone by bone, the princess emerged from the pile of goo. Her form seemed tighter than when she first had risen from the marble tomb. She was less of a blob around bones and more of a copper-cored ice sculpture. While Leon worked on one of her hands, she stretched out the other and let the goo ooze down from her fingertips before pulling it back into a fist.

Rebuilding the long bones in her arms and legs was simple enough. Her finger bones were much more difficult. To properly shape the copper to complex bones like her ribs and skull, he needed the keening edge of a strange device that had survived the centuries in the Grand Magos' workshop. Ellena described it as a wave-shaper. Leon was certain that the device had been dark and dormant earlier in the day, but now that night had fallen it glowed with odd triangular shapes. Its wooden dials responded to his touch as though it was a powered loom back on the Home Isles. A curious thing, like a primitive gantry that used mystical powers rather than hot-blooded engineering to weave materials together. So archaic yet so advanced all at once!

They were caught up in the work, he hand-crafting her new skeletal structure and she telling him how each part felt as it was tuned. It was not until she was complete, once more able to sit atop the workbench instead of slopping across the floor, that Leon realized what he had accomplished. A shiny skeleton, wrapped in impact-absorbing goo, with ethereal hair. Her crown sat proudly upon her head, proclaiming her royalty. When he first saw her she had been almost all bone. Throughout the day her goo gained more mass as she snacked. Now Ellena appeared almost human. Tentatively he pressed a pencil against her body and found the goo as unyielding as rock. He leaned back, uncertain just what he had created.

She giggled. Reaching out, the Princess took his hand and pressed it against her belly. The ooze flowed over his fingers. For a second he could think only of the dissolving spiderjockies and engulfed venison from earlier, but there was no pain of acid devouring his flesh. Her body squeezed his fingers and tickled his palm before she let go. He drew away his hand. Very little goo clung to his fingers this time.

"You must me be controlling the electromagnetic fields on an instinctive level..." he stammered, shocked by the realization. "But you've never received even the slightest education about the principles of electromagnetism! For you it is somehow as natural as breathing. I-"

"Leon," she said softly. The strength had returned to her voice as it had to her body. "Look at me."

He nodded, eyes wide but unable to see what she desperately wanted him to. "You have complete control not merely over the epidermal, but the entire composite. Really, this is fascinating, I had hoped you would at least be able to stand, but to have such minute control-"

She cut him off by leaning forward, putting her hands on his shoulders, and pressing her forehead against his. Ooze tingled across his skin. "You've saved me again, Leon." Without really meaning to, she picked him right up out of his chair and hugged him tight. The explorer's feet kicked nervously, wanting to be back on the floor. "I'm alive again, for the second time! Oh, Leon, you're the greatest hero this land could ever have hoped for!"

Her words felt like needles to his conscience, while her goo was oozing through his clothes and curling around his flesh. "I... Princess, I... set me down, please."

"Oh? Oh!" Realizing that she was holding his body so high that he was nearly parallel with the floor, the skeletal girl let out a soft eep and returned him to his own feet. She looked down at her hands in surprise. "Even in life I was never that strong. What awesome magic you have wrought!" With a happy sigh, she looked up at him with a wide smile. "My savior, my love, my husband!"

All the adrenaline that had kept him going through the night seemed to be fading away. He looked at her with fresh eyes, seeing something neither human being nor clockwork automaton yet similar to both. Part metal machine suspended in goo, part undead abomination from the far past. Her golden crown caught the candlelight as she stepped toward him, looking for all the world like the ceremonial helmet it was intended to be. Leon stepped back, a flicker of fear crossing his face. What had he done? Surely he could not have left her to that horrid fate, but he had created a war machine. There had been some semblance of frailty to her before. Now she was an ancient ruler in a terrifying new body.

Tilting her head to the side in confusion, she held out her arms again and moved toward him. "Leon? What's wrong?" This was not how it was supposed to go. He had saved her, yet again. Now they were to kiss and live happily ever after! As he backed up further, near to that brass-encased thing that clicked and spat out scrolls, she caught a glimpse of herself. Earlier she had seen her reflection in the stream. The body that she saw now was far more frightening. Ellena raised her hands to her face and stared at the bits of metal jutting out from her bones. Her gooey eyes began to melt. No one could love such a monstrosity.

The sadness on her face, the slump of her shoulders and the way her head sunk, softened her appearance. Gathering his courage, Leon stepped closer to her and put a hand on her shoulder. At first the goo was firm, resistant to his touch, then it softened and let his fingers sink in. "Princess, I know... I know you never chose this. All of this, it isn't the real you."

She smiled sadly, strands of ethereal hair falling over her face. "Thank you, Leon. I know that this is... well, you did not know what you were getting into either."

"I do care about you, Ellena." He stepped a little closer, muscles aching from the night's labor. "Everything I've seen since I came here, it's the stuff explorers hope for but never really expect. I... you are ancient history, Princess. The kind of thing I have always hoped to find."

"But," she finished for him, "I am not the stuff dreams are made of. Just nightmares." Without her ruined dress, without anything to cover herself, she was a translucent glop caked atop shiny metal coils. Ellena tried to be strong. Both for her kingdom and herself. "Leon Wellesley, you have faithfully served the throne through this time of great tribulation." The formal tone helped her accept this moment. She would cry later. Royalty could not permit such sorrow to be seen by others. Ellena knew she had to be worthy of the crown, as she had been taught. "What do you wish for the throne to do, that we might express the gratitude of our nation?"

A farce, that was what this felt like. Father's old throne was buried under a collapsed roof as best as she could tell. But it was a formality that helped distance her mind from the realization that she would not be kissing him, would not get to hold him close and hear him say those words she wanted. Not because of Leon, no man would move mountains as he had for a woman he did not at least feel a pang of sentiment for, but because of the witch. Were it not for the curse, she never would have met him, yet because of it she never would be with him. Ellena did not know if it would have been better to have died long ago with everyone else. All she could say for certain was that this pain hurt worse than any wound she had ever received before.

Leon was ashamed that his first thought was to ask for her crown back so he could be on his way home to fame and fortune. He had made his choice, but the temptation was still great. Any hope he had of taking her back to the Home Isles was gone now. She looked for all the world like some new kind of combat clockwork, and the Queen's Finest took a very dim view of anyone who showed up at the docks with such a thing. If they didn't saw her apart for research, they would blow him and her up for safety.

Reaching out with both hands, he cupped her face. Not the sort of thing one usually did with royalty, but as soon as his fingers touched her gooey cheeks she seemed to melt against him. Leon knew full well she could be a terrifying combatant, but she did not have the heart of a warmonger.

Ellena gripped his shoulders as gently as she could manage. When he had reached out toward her head, she had the terrifying feeling he was going to take her crown back. It would have been hard to begrudge him that, though it was her family's and one of the few things she had left. He could not know how much it meant to her when he had pulled it from his pack.

"What do you desire, Leon?" she asked softly as the candles burned low.

"I..." Why had he done all this? "I just... I wish others could see you the way you want to be seen. The way I see you, Princess Ellena." Those words sounded hollow, even to him. He tried again. "The way... the way I want to see you."

She leaned her head toward his, wanting so badly for her happily ever after to be simple. That was how the old tales went. After all she had been through, she wanted a simple sprinkle of pixie dust. The Princess was even willing to give up her gold crown for it, if need be.

The explorer took a deep breath and gathered his courage. Leaning toward her, he let their lips meet. She oozed closer to him, their bodies touching as they deepened the kiss. It was awkward, uncertain, calling upon all the trust they had built during the day. More than a little uncomfortable for him, but not ill-tasting as he had feared. She felt a sizzle of energy crackle up her spine as his arms held her and his eyes looked into hers. This was what she wanted, what she needed, but something was missing. Desperately Ellena tried to figure out what it was, what she could do, but nothing came to mind. She was a skilled fighter, not an experienced lover. The moment passed, and they pulled away, a few strands of goo clinging to his mouth.

He was trying, trying so hard for her. She whispered, "Thank you, Leon."

The explorer nodded stiffly. It had been an experience. Not a terrible one, but... there was something uncanny about her. Just being nearby made his skin crawl. There was no corpse stench, no specific assault on his senses he could name, but the nerves in his body were constantly warning him just as they had earlier that she was not... "You are not natural, Ellena. Nothing about you is commonplace."

He did not mean it as an insult, and she appreciated his honesty. Her mind was twirling around an idea. "The way I want to be seen..." Letting go of him, the goo of her body pulling away from his skin, she turned to a bookshelf. "Do you truly mean that, Leon? The way I want to be seen?"

The explorer collapsed into a chair, exhausted. She had a fine shape to her ooze, but even a marble statue with fine proportions was not the same as a living, breathing dame. As she began rummaging through the scrolls and books, he could not hold back a groan. "Princess, I do mean that, but are you certain that those books are... well, they seem terribly unsafe." Even the equipment he had repurposed was not completely trustworthy. He thought of Eddington and those dirigibles full of cutting-edge gadgetry. A small smile crept across his face. Whatever that fool might have to his credit, he would always bear the mark of a betrayer in Leon's book. At least Leon still had his honor.

She reached for the highest shelf. "Nature magic, Leon. I was always talented at it. Uncle said it was my gift. There are spells the dryads would use to... to change their faces..."

He nodded, and tried to rise to his feet. "Princess, please. Think of what you have. I... I do care deeply for you, I just... I would hate to see anything untoward happen."

"Again, you mean." Pulling down one of the books, she turned back to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Rest a bit, Leon. I promise, this will not be like the last time you went to sleep."

Guilt poked at his heart again. She did not know how close he had come to leaving, to abandoning her. If he had... he could not even imagine the pain of an eternity trapped like that. Even if it had cost him a fortune, he was glad to have saved her from that fate. She paged through the books as the storm outside began to abate. The explorer let his head lean back in the chair and his eyes drift shut. Just before he fell asleep, he said, "You know, where I am from, they say beauty is only skin deep, but character is what you have in your bones."

A rakish grin spread across the Princess' face. She was getting much better at controlling her expressions. "And when I am from, we used to say that if your sword breaks, you'd best be handy with your dagger."

Chapter 19. From Nature

Most of this land was wilderness. Her family had always enjoyed a connection to the land, and to its wild secrets. The forest was full of trees that had endured for millennia when Ellena was just a little girl. Her father's gifts had manifested as the bear's might in battle. Her grandfather had the cunning of the wolf. She was quite able to fight, but her talents leaned more toward the gentle strength of the river. Where her father would have snarled and slaughtered until the bear's rage left him triumphant yet exhausted, she was cool-headed enough to see that some enemies could be swept along rather than crushed. This was why she had accepted that political marriage Father had planned to arrange with the forest elves. When she was fully of age, Uncle had promised to teach her all the powers of magic at his command.

Many happy plans had been laid to waste. She did not have any kinship with the elves, nor did she possess a full knowledge of Uncle's tomes. What Ellena did have was a wonderful candidate for husbandhood, an affinity for the magic of nature, and an iron will. Leon slept peacefully in the chair as she studied. Though he had not noticed it, his handsome explorer uniform was ruined. Coal soot, little rips and tears all over, even a few scorch marks from the strange things he had used to make her whole again. He had given so much for her. When she rose to go outside, Ellena rubbed a gooey thumb across his cheek to remove a long streak of soot.

Britta raised an ear as she passed, then lapsed back into watchful repose. That wolfdog had more wisdom than most humans would realize. Were this still ancient times, the Princess might wonder if there was a touch of lunar magic in those intelligent yellow eyes. Outside was that deep darkness which comes just before the dawn. Her undead eyes could see clearly enough to find the river, and the chilled carcass inside.

First she ate, ripping apart and digesting hunks of flesh as her gooey form seeped down into the water. Food and drink, flowing into her and through her. Eating this way seemed as natural as knowing which fork to use at the palace. Yes, she was a monster, and Leon was right to feel as he did. That he could see anything of virtue in her at all was a miracle. Ellena wanted him to see her as she had been in her glory, wearing her shining armor and adventuring with her loyal shieldmaiden, but... but perhaps it was better this way. His heart was pure, his affection true. Try though she might to be vain Ellena knew what she looked like.

She was not a mindless skeleton. She was able to move, to change, to overcome this curse. Leon had labored so hard and so delicately to restore her. As the meat dissolved and the water absorbed, Ellena emerged from the river with new determination. The goo surrounding her bones was so packed with nutrients that it had lost much of its transparency. Standing on the grass, she ran her hands down over her body as water dribbled from her hair and surface. Molding, shaping, shifting parts of herself like living clay. Flexing the fields that emanated from her bones, picking up rocks and crumbling them between her fingers, toying with her sense of balance and her center of mass as she had not been able to do since she woke. When she had been human, she would have been overjoyed to gain the strength to crush boulders. Finally, she turned to where the deer's skin hung from a tree. The witch had taken so much from her, but final victory would be Ellena's!

Returning to the tower, she left a bone next to Britta's muzzle and heard the canine bite down on it as soon as her back was turned. Leon was still asleep. It would be dawn soon, and she wanted him to see her as she wanted to be seen when he woke. Stepping to the other side of the workshop, behind a rich purple hanging curtain that did not have quite enough moth holes to be unfit for its purpose, she unfolded the deerskin and spread open several tomes of magic.

Chapter 20. Completion

+ Confession +

Leon woke with a start, and scratched his head. He could have sworn he heard birds. Something flitted through the air nearby. The explorer reached for his revolver, then squinted. It actually was a bird, and there went another! Sitting fully upright in the chair, he called out curiously, "Princess? Princess Ellena?"

Dawn was breaking in the far distance, but most of the tower was still lit by candles and the standing lamp. He rose to his feet and stretched out his back.

"I am here." Her voice came from the other side of a ratty purple curtain. An odd shadow moved across the fabric, with other, smaller shadows flitting about it. "Leon... how do you see me?"

He rubbed his eyes, wishing for a piping hot kettle and some bacon right out of the pan. "Well, I don't right now."

"How would you like to see me?" she tried again.

The explorer picked his way across the bits of rubble and equipment on the floor toward the curtain. His shoulders felt stiff, and his brain was running slow. "Listen, Princess, certain fine things are an acquired taste. However, they are well worth acquiring. This is all a lot to take in at once, and I'm just glad you are whole again." Reaching out, he pulled back the curtain. In retrospect, it was not a gentlemanly thing to do at all. A man should not barge so into a lady's privacy.

However, he really did not think of her as a lady. Certainly not the iron-hooped dress sort who was only good for snooting about. Most ladies did not fight wivres or eat live spiderjockies. They certainly did not look like goo-covered bone piles. Leon's mind had, without consulting his conscious thoughts, classed her as an adventuring companion rather than a proper lady. That was abruptly turned on its head when he pulled back the curtain.

Cute birds flitted about her with ribbons in their beaks. Fireflies glowed around her body, providing additional light since the sun was not yet available. He stared in shock as she stretched out her arms to test the fit of the pieced-together skin that was stretched over her gooey form. Two birds dipped down, took ends of a piece of flesh in their beaks, and wrapped it around her body. Other avians stitched the patch of skin in place, their tiny beaks working like sewing machines. A long ribbon was threaded down her spine to keep the skin tight, almost like a corset. As unnatural as such a thing seemed, the skin-suit did make her look... human, or very nearly so.

Aside from the seams and stitches, her skin was smooth and unblemished. It flowed along the supple curves of her gooey body. Leon belatedly realized he was staring at a naked woman. A strange thing to fret about, since she was wearing skin now and nothing before, but there was something instinctive about seeing bare skin that her gooey body had never roused in him. Skin with lips, with ears, with nipples and a navel, all moistened by dribbles of goo. The kind of skin that modest girls kept buried under dresses, and fun girls flaunted. He was a man of great travels and varied experiences, but the generally virtuous culture of the Home Isles meant that such a sight was not so common.

That was why his eyes snapped up to hers instead of diving downward. Instead of eyeballs she had the same gooey orbs, the same wispy hair. Yes, this was the girl he had spent yesterday exploring with. Now she had put on some skin. That was what this seemed to be, a finely-crafted outfit of skin, but an outfit all the same. Strange that her putting on something was making him feel this way. Usually it was what girls took off that enticed men. She looked far more human now, save for the stitches of ribbon in a few places. He reached out curiously, then felt a flutter in his chest when she reached too and their hands met. Her skin-suit was cold to the touch. There was a certain royalty in her face, a glow of beauty in the flesh, but there could be no disguising that she was not truly human.

"This is... this is a mask..." murmured the explorer without thinking. The sound of his own voice startled him, and he tried to turn away. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come in, I-"

Her grip on his hand did not yield. "Yes, this is a mask. In my time, we would sometimes put on masks for dancing." The birds finished lacing ribbon up her spine and fluttered away. Shutting her eyelids, the Princess concentrated for a long moment. Beneath the surface, her body shifted. Skin tightened or loosened as the goo moved. The gauntness in her hips and shoulders filled out. Her breasts grew enticingly. Fireflies flickered around her as the skin-suit shifted to fit the princess as well as his gloves fit him. He could not help another glance.

This was amazing, something he never would have imagined. With a skin covering like that she could pass as human from a distance. Well, she would need clothes too. But beneath that skin was still the same danger. Goo instead of organs, metal-cored bones, and the ability to survive on almost any kind of fuel. She was beautiful, a beautiful weapon. Running his thumb over the back of her hand, a terrifying thought entered his mind. "The skin, where did you-"

"Animal," she said soothingly. "Nature gives many gifts. Leon, look at me. Please."

He did not know if that made it better or worse. Living tissue over a metal endoskeleton, supported by enchanted goo. This was the kind of nightmare automaton that great literary minds warned about. But there was no clockwork brain operating this Princess. She was her own person. He let a smile creep across his face as his eyes moved across her body.

"Will you dance with me?" Ellena asked softly, stepping toward him. Her bare skin pressed against his dirty uniform. Leon stiffened. Her body was beautiful, well-complexioned, and proportioned like something lifted from his dreams. "I... I hope this is to your liking. I tried hard to make it so."

Of course it was to his liking! He had tried to like her before, and had made some happy progress, but this was far too much. Why, she put the rich heiress Eddington had nabbed to shame! The thought of that touting thief put another thought into his mind. What was he, compared to her? Glancing down, he realized how wretched his uniform looked. She was innocent to the ways of this new world, and he was just an exhausted explorer. Now he was embarrassed. "Princess... I fear you will think I am vain, and put too much stock in one's appearance."

"Leon." Her fingers walked up his arms, each touch raising goosebumps on his skin that had nothing to do with the coldness of her flesh. "You broke the curse of my land. You rescued me from the tomb. You told me of this new, strange world, and helped me try to live again. You went with me into the tower, into the mines, and against the wivres." Her hands gripped his shoulders, and her head leaned in toward his. "You found my crown. You came to me when I was helpless, and gave me hope. You put your lips to mine even when I had no lips with which to kiss."

He looked away. "I... I almost didn't. Good heavens, you're beautiful. You're like someone drawn, not someone born." With a body like that, she could have any man she wanted, or so he thought. The goo beneath her epidermis held her form in ways that all the corsets and stuffed dresses in the world could never hope to. She was even pretending to breathe. Each feigned exhailation carried just a hint of airborne ooze that made his skin tingle hot and cold all at once. On the Home Islands, the old stories of nature magic were historically linked with fertility goddesses. While Science offered intellectual advancements and new comforts, it was a cold and sometimes unkind mistress. He had his doubts about magic before, but standing in front of him, bearing all with the rising sun at her back, was a tantalizing proof any man of reason would find hard to deny.

"Princess, I don't... I almost..." She still moved like goo, seeming to engulf him without taking a step. Her bare leg pressed against the side of his pants as she slid her body over his. Those orbs of ooze stared deep into his eyes as he tried to look away. The guilt in his heart was heavier than an anchor. "Can't you see, I've done it all wrong! I'm not a hero. I'm not a savior. I didn't know what I was doing when I broke the curse. I nearly shot you to pieces when I first saw you, and I... I wasn't thinking about how to help you, I was trying to figure a way to haul you off as a museum piece!" Everything kept spilling out. "I was fighting the lizard things for my own sake as much as yours, and... and when I found your crown the only thought in my mind was how much money I could make if I rushed back to the Home Isles. You frightened the daylights out of me with what you did to those giant beasts. So much of what I have seen makes such little sense to me. Every time I went back to my balloon, I nearly left."

He shook his head and tried to pull free. Her fingers trailed down his arms as he backed away. "I'm not the hero you think I am. I... I could have been, but I couldn't decide if I belonged back on the Home Islands or here, and... and now you're... there isn't a man in the world who could refuse what you've become." Sweat ran down his neck. The patch of skin near his collar, the one she had breathed on, tingled. "That's who I am, I'm a cad. No better than Eddington, and madness all around. You, you sing and the birds come to help you dress! What is a man to think of that?"

Panting for breath, the explorer leaned against the stonework. In part because he suddenly felt very tired, and in part because he felt the walls were closing in. "That's all I am. I've been trying to use you from the start, but I hadn't the guts to go all the way or the heart to turn away. But I'm at least man enough not to smile and lie that I'm the lily-white saint you think I am."

Silence crept back in as he bowed his head and hugged the wall. It was all he could do to stay upright, but at the same time he felt light as a feather. She stood very still by the window. The sun was rising at her back. He wondered if she was going to rip out his heart and look for any other black spots. Whatever happened, for the first time since he had started to plot against the undead girl, he knew that his conscience was clear.

Her lips curled in a smile, splitting just a little to show her teeth. She turned on a heel and walked out to the balcony. Leon tried not to stare, but what man would not have stolen a glimpse at the sway of her hips? She was just as beautiful from the back. There was a curious trellis of ribbon that ran up her spine, similar to the other stitches that tailored the skin to fit her form. He turned his gaze away when she leaned over the railing.

With a playful tone, Ellena asked, "Well, loyal companion, you heard all that. And you know him better than I. What say you?"

A wolfish yawn came from below, followed by a short bark.

"I concur. Have you any objections?"

Britta yipped twice. Then came the sound of gnawing. Princess Ellena turned about with a devilish smirk on her lips and a complete lack of shame about her nudity. "I'm afraid you have been overruled, Leon. You are the hero of this land. You faced great adversity and temptation, yet you prevailed. After consulting an expert witness," she made a grand gesture over the balcony. "The throne finds your confession of guilt unpersuasive." A few birds landed on her arms.

He shook his head. Maybe she could forgive him, but he could not forgive himself. While she stood out on the balcony in the dawn's light, he hunched back inside the dim workshop. "I... Princess, am I really the kind of man you want?" Reaching into his backpack, he drew out the amulet. "H-here, this is yours, but I never gave it to you. See? I'm-I'm a thief!"

Her eyes lit up in recognition. "The Seal of Steel? I thought it was lost!" Stretching out a hand, she smiled even wider, showing some of her metalized teeth. "Leon, why are you so afraid? Do you truly not wish to be with me?"

"I do, Ellena," he whispered. "But how can you know that?"

"I-" she began to say, then the steel amulet twitched in his hand. To the surprise of both, it leaped from his fingers, flew across the gap of air and landed in her palm. Both stared in surprise at the jewelry. With a coy grin, the princess focused on the bones in her hand, on what she wanted, and the Seal began to levitate.

The explorer's jaw hung open. "Queen's Cogs!"

Her gooey eyes turned back to him. "No, Leon. Your cogs. Your work, your hands, and your mind. This victory is ours to savor, and no one else's. Whatever doubts you may have had, you always chose to support me when I needed it most." She cupped both of her hands around the amulet and bounced it back and forth with the magnetic fields. "I desire you as I have never desired another. I want you in my court, not some other man. Will you not be with me? As my husband?"

She was right. He had been bringing another person along. With a heavy sigh, Leon tried to let go of Eddington and all that man had done to him. Pulling a kerchief from a pocket, he wiped his face and nodded. "All-right, then." He stepped out onto the creaking balcony toward her. The princess smiled at him, then adjusted her crown to more reckless angle. "You are... I suppose you were always beautiful, but you look it now. Not that you didn't... I mean, sort of, but..."

She reached up with a finger and tapped his lips. "Suush. I love you, Leon."

He reached out and took her in his arms. She did not feel human, not in the way she melded to his body or in the way sticky tears dribbled from those gooey eyes, but she was more human than some people he needed to forget about. Leaning in for a kiss, he whispered back, "I love you too, Ellena. I love you, and your crazy kingdom."

+ Finale +

"Leon," she whispered in his ear with her legs wrapped around his waist. "I see no reason to delay in performing my wifely duties." Tracing two fingers down the front of his shirt, she magnetically unbuttoned the garment. "Do you?"

"I... usually there's a ceremony first," he said out of propriety. "But-"

"But we have already had a ceremony of the heart, haven't we?" She kissed his cheek, leaving a gooey mark behind. "And it's not like there are any bothersome officials around to complain. Will you warm me up on this beautiful morning?"

The explorer squeezed her bare bottom. "It would be my pleasure, princess."

He helped her drop his pants to his knees, then traced his fingers over the stitches on her skin as she squeezed his stiffening rod. Goo seeped out through her seams, providing a cool lubricant that made his skin tingle. While she had no spots that were especially sensitive, Ellena loved the feeling of him touching her anywhere. The princess wasted little time with foreplay. As soon as he was hard, she lined up his tip with her entrance and slid him into her gooey pelvis. There was no fake skin inside, only ooze that squeezed his entire length. Her arms hugged him tight as she concentrated.

"Ahh... Ellena!" he gasped as her hips rocked slowly. Her body was cold, but quickly warming from the heat of his skin. This was unlike anything he had imagined. Ooze dribbled down his scrotum as he thrust slowly. Her adaptive body moved around him in ways no living woman's could, but instinct compelled him to move as well.

"Leon," she moaned in his ear. "You are so hot and hard inside me!" Ooze seeped through the seams in her skin and stained his clothes. She rested her head on his shoulder and tightened her legs until he could barely move. "I... I do not know how a woman should feel with a man, but this seems right. I'm so glad to be here with you."

He kissed her cheek and hugged her tight. All the extra metal made her heavier than yesterday, but he could still keep her weight balanced against the balcony rail. As more of her ooze dripped down his legs and the squeeze of her insides became more insistent, a worrying thought crossed his mind. "Ellena, yesterday I saw you... consume things." It was hard to think through the cloud of lust. "Are we certain that..."

"As certain as I can be of this strange form. I did not melt my dress or this skin. I promise not to harm you, my husband." She kissed him on the mouth.

He kissed back, even daring to push his tongue into hers. The taste of her ooze was more palatable today. The way she was stroking, squeezing, cuddling, and caressing him all at once made what should be terrifying into a tantalizing experience. He thrust into her, feeling her gooey body shake each time, and cupped her breasts. The wisps of her ethereal hair clung to his face as they moved together. This was another adventure they were sharing.

Leon knew he could not hold on much longer. Instead of trying to pull away and recover, he lifted the princess off the balcony rail and held her back against the solid stone wall. Ramming as deep as he could inside, so vigorously that he felt some of the seams on her skin-suit give way and her gooey body spill out to crawl over his flesh, he held her against the wall and shot his load. She let out a watery wail of joy, and the shape of her body lost some cohesion as all her focus turned inward. Globs of ooze splattered onto the floor as she hugged him tight, but she did not let a single spurt of his seed get away. Goo squirmed out through the seams at her ankles and coalesced together behind his back, while part of her pelvis oozed down to engulf his balls. The princess wrung him dry of every last drop. As she did, she felt a wondrous sensation flood out from her loins.

More exhausted than he had ever been after a great discovery, the explorer collapsed to the floor. She filled out her bosom and pillowed his head against it. Their vigorous lovemaking had loosened many of the skin-suit's seams. He could see her bones beneath, and even traces of his seed swirling through her gooey body. The explorer took one of her hands in his and smiled up at the undead girl. "I... I love you, Princess Ellena."

She playfully picked up his other hand and brought it to her lips. Curling out her gooey tongue, she licked his fingers. "And I love you, Leon." As traces of his seed flowed up through her neck and swirled behind her eyes, she squeezed his hand. "Together we will restore this kingdom."

He kissed each of her breasts. "Then we'll tell the world the true story of this land."

A bit of ooze trickled from her eye. "Yes. Victory at last." Her entire body trembled a little. "Your seed feels so warm inside me, as though it is a gift of life."

He smiled. "Does that mean it was good for you too?"

"Exquisite, Leon." She touched his hair with bone fingers wrapped in animal skin and covered in ooze. He took her hand in his. "My husband."