The Power and the Glory

Book 3 Chapter VIII: Living Dead

Author's Note: I finally found the right place for Abi to become a phoenix!

Warning: contains minor character death, cannibalism of the zombie kind, and zombie-typical gore and body horror. Also contains a zombie being burnt alive (or "alive").

Sooner or later I'm going to have to think about it, and then I'll be a real mess. -- Unknown

Not everyone had listened to Siarvin's and Irímé's warnings to get out of the palace. It didn't help that they hadn't agreed on a story beforehand and so gave two very different reasons for why the place had to be evacuated. Siarvin said there'd been a magical accident that might become dangerous. Irímé said there was a fire alarm. Neither had sounded very convincing, though their very obvious panic got many people to realise there really was something wrong. Other people assumed they were exaggerating or mistaken and so ignored their warnings.

Norirn Hilatévasvóeln had worked at Gihimayel Palace for over a thousand years. She'd seen enough people running around in a panic to know they were usually getting themselves worked up over nothing. And she was not going to let anything get in the way of her doing her duty. She'd been hired to mop the floors, so even if the end of the world was imminent she was going to mop the floors.

The sudden absence of her co-workers turned out to be a boon for her. She could go about her work without having to interrupt other people and ask them to move out of the way. She filled the mop bucket and set to work on the entrance hall's floor.

Fifteen minutes later Norirn heard running footsteps. They climbed the steps leading to the palace's main doors.

The prank must be over now, was all she thought about it.

One of the doors was flung open with such force it suggested the person had hurled themselves against it. A young woman staggered in and shoved the door closed behind her -- a very dishevelled young woman whose shoes were practically encased in mud. Norirn bristled. There was nothing she hated to see more than dirt on her nice clean floors.

"Go out and take those shoes off before you come in here!" she snapped.

The woman almost jumped out of her skin. She whirled round, eyes wide, and half-slumped half-collapsed against the door when she saw Norirn.

"Get out!" she practically shrieked. "You've got to get out!"

Norirn scowled. Who did this intruder think she was? "Young lady, I have work to do here, and whatever you're here for can wait until--"

There was a crash outside. The door shook with the impact.

Another dragon? was Norirn's first thought. The most emotion she could muster up was mild exasperation. Very little surprised her nowadays.

The woman braced herself against the door even though she looked like she might collapse at any minute. Her voice was a high-pitched screech as she repeated, "Get out!"

A spot of red caught Norirn's eye. She looked down and saw there were pools of blood amidst the muddy footprints the woman had left. An inkling that this was more serious than she'd thought began to dawn on her. Then she saw the red stains on the woman's shoe and trouser leg, and the tear in the fabric, and the brief glimpse she got of blood on the woman's leg.

"What happened?" she asked in horror. The last time someone had been physically injured here was over two hundred years ago, when two representatives of the rival branches of Kaxet'i's royal family decided to have a duel in someone else's kitchen.

Something hit the door with such force that the woman was thrown backwards. She recovered just in time to slam it shut before whatever was out there got in. Norirn belatedly realised that she should have listened to those people who'd warned her to leave. She began to back away slowly. She picked up her mop and held it in front of herself as a makeshift weapon.