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original fiction by Richard Parks  •  “I suppose you could just say that I’m a tomb wight and let it go at that. But what is that? Wight simply means ‘creature,’ so that doesn’t really help much, does it? It’s not like saying ‘ogre’ or ‘troll’ or even ‘farmer,’ which are fairly specific terms.”

* * *

CONVERSATION IN THE TOMB OF AN UNKNOWN KING
by Richard Parks

copyright © 2006 / May not be reproduced without permission

* * *

THERE ARE PATTERNS in the world, false and real, for those who think long enough to discover them. One such is that certain places tend to attract certain creatures. Farms are usually infested with farmers; palaces with royalty; mountain caves with trolls; and tombs, if they be of a certain quality, with wights.

One such tomb was in the Abandoned Lands, and the one such wight who lived there was known as Uldun. That is to say, he knew himself to be Uldun, there being no one else about. The king was there, in a manner of speaking, but he had been dead many years before the wight came to live with him. A wight will seldom live with a king under any other circumstances, that being the pattern that developed between kings and wights.

There’s a pattern between human beings and tombs as well: if one human were to place treasure in a tomb, sooner or later another human would try to take it out again. Which brings us back to wights, specifically Uldun. He knew about that pattern. It was very inconvenient. He said as much to the human who came, torch in hand, down into the king’s tomb on a cold winter day.

The fair-haired human blinked in the weak light. He was young, near as Uldun could judge, and dressed quite sensibly against the cold. He nervously gripped a torch in one hand and a rather battered sword in the other. “What . . . what did you say?”

Uldun sighed. “I said that it was very inconvenient to receive visitors unannounced. Though I suppose, being a thief, you wouldn’t have considered that.”

The human looked affronted. “I’m no thief!”

Uldun shrugged, though it was doubtful the human could see him well enough there in the gloom to tell. “Well, perhaps not until you actually steal something. Which isn’t going to happen so long as I’m here. Your soul can thank me later for its salvation. Your body will have precious little reason to thank either of us.”

The human held out his sword. “I’ve come for the treasure, you foul creature. I have no quarrel with you, but if you attack me you’ll regret it!”

Uldun sighed with disgust. “You insult me and yet say we have no quarrel? Typical. As for the regrets, take a look to your left.”

The human was plainly reluctant to take his eyes off the patch of gloom near the head of the king’s bier where Uldun lurked, but he risked a quick glance in the direction the wight had directed.

“Oh, my . . .” he said, and for a moment seemed to forget all about the wight. There were stacks of bones against the left wall of the tomb: skulls, leg bones, arm bones, finger bones. Here and there a rusted sword broke up the pattern, but only just.

“I don’t suppose you really thought you’d be the first?” Uldun asked. But the interloper had thought as much: that was clear enough. They all did. Uldun continued, “That’s all the reward you can expect for your trouble: to share a tomb with a king. Is it worth it? Ask yourself that before you speak of regrets.”

The young man shivered, but he did not retreat. “What are you?”

“Good question,” Uldun said. “I suppose you could just say that I’m a tomb wight and let it go at that. But what is that? Wight simply means ‘creature,’ so that doesn’t really help much, does it? It’s not like saying ‘ogre’ or ‘troll’ or even ‘farmer,’ which are fairly specific terms. I and my kind remain nebulous. Quite an advantage, when you think about it.”

“Not knowing what you are? How is that an advantage?” the intruder asked.

Frightened as the young man obviously was, he still managed a bit of curiosity. Uldun was beginning to feel a bit intrigued, and frustrated too at not being able to put a label on the young man other than ‘thief’ or ‘interloper’ or such. Not that the problem had ever come up before. Usually he’d killed his visitors before they developed any kind of name-basis relationship.

“Why? For the obvious reason: not knowing what I am removes any limits to what I may become. Look at me.” Uldun shuffled a little closer to the light. The interloper took a step back, but that was all. Uldun blended back with the darkness. “So. What did you see?”

“A v-very fierce creature with great knotted arms and long teeth.”

Uldun laughed. “You’ve just described a ghoul.”

“You mean you’re a ghoul? You said —”

“That I was a tomb wight. I did and I am. Now try again.” Once more Uldun came just close enough to the torchlight to cast a shadow. “What now?”

“A very small creature with spindly arms and long black hair.”

Uldun nodded. “Less specific this time. Could be a pisge. Could be a phooka. Shall we try again?”

The young man shook his head. “You’re just trying to trick me!”

“Not at all. I tell you plainly — be you strong as an ox, I’ll be as strong as an ogre. Be you strong as an ogre, I’ll be as strong as a mountain giant. How can I trick you? I’ve told you exactly what to expect of me. The very least I’ll do is rip your head from your body. Anger me with more insults and I’ll rip your tongue out and stuff it up your backside beforehand. Now. Do you still want the king’s treasure?”

The young man was practically in tears. “Yes.”

Uldun knew it was time to kill the intruder, but the tears were unexpected. Being always unexpected himself, he found the trait in others fascinating. “Why are you crying?”

“Because I don’t want to die!”

“Then don’t. . . .” Uldun paused. “What is your name, anyway?”

“Karl.”

“I’m Uldun, by the way, and as I was saying — don’t die. Turn around. Leave. I’ll even forgive your insult if you promise not to say such things again.”

“I can’t.”

Uldun frowned. “Can’t promise or can’t leave? Aren’t your legs working?”

“I can’t because I need the treasure.”

“It doesn’t belong to you,” Uldun said.

“Nor to you,” Karl said. “Nor to the king, whoever he was. He’s dead, and so owns nothing.”

Uldun sighed. He knew he should just rip the youth’s head from his body rather than explain, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d even bothered to learn an intruder’s name before doing the same. Perhaps that alone was reason enough for due diligence where Karl was concerned.

“You don’t understand, young man, and I’m not sure I can explain this but, before I kill you and as a courtesy, I will try. I’ve stepped forward twice, and now it’s your turn. Come see the treasure you ‘need’ so much.”

Karl stepped forward, and for the first time the torchlight fully illuminated the contents of the tomb.

The king was covered in gold.

Uldun heard the youth gasp in surprise. As a tomb wight, Uldun had the talent for knowing, at least in part, the mind of the sort of person who would despoil a barrow. He watched closely for the gleam of greed and obsession that he knew so well to come to Karl’s eyes. To Uldun’s considerable astonishment, it never did. There was something Karl wanted, yes, that was plain enough. But it wasn’t the gold, at least not directly. Uldun’s fascination with his guest grew.

“It’s lovely,” was all Karl said.

Uldun nodded. “It should be. I spend enough time dusting it. Unless you have a great deal of experience with tombs you wouldn’t know this, but dust and debris tend to cover the contents of a burial over time. Yet this is my home; I like my surroundings to be tidy. Unfortunately it just makes the treasure easier to find and more attractive.”

Karl turned away from the gold and put his full attention back on Uldun. “Yes, but why dwell here at all? It’s a tomb in the absolute middle of nowhere! It’s no place for a living creature, if such you are.”

“That’s where you are mistaken, and that is my point. I am a wight. You say this treasure belongs to no one and is thus free for the taking. That too is an error. It is a wight’s nature to seek out tombs, just as a badger uses a burrow. Whether the badger digs the burrow himself or finds one abandoned, it will defend either as his home. Will you count me less than a badger? What creature is required to allow a predator into his home without a fight?”

“I have no choice,” Karl said.

“And why not? Look!” Uldun waved one taloned hand at the king in exasperation. “Armor of beaten gold, jeweled sword, crown of pearl and gold. Are you a king? Noble?”

Karl shook his head. “I am a farmer’s son.”

“I guessed as much. Unless you plan to turn mercenary you don’t need armor at all, and golden armor is very poor protection, believe me. It is soft and very heavy, and every hand on the field would turn against you to possess it. As for the gold itself, where would you spend it? Why would you wear it? Where could you hide it so thieves would not find it, or some local lordling not take it from you on some pretense or other? As a king’s final tribute or a barrow wight’s pride, it serves well enough; for one such as you it is useless!”

“Not quite useless,” Karl said. “It would grant me the one thing I want in this world.”

“And what would that be?”

“Elana.”

Uldun blinked. “Oh. A woman.” Finally it was out in the open. Mystery, so far as Uldun was concerned, solved. “Your girl will not marry you without gold. Of course, I should have guessed.” Uldun pitied the young man, but he was still going to rip his head off. The sooner the better, he felt, and end the poor lad’s misery. Uldun slipped forward.

“Elana would marry me with nought but the clothes on her back!” Karl said, clearly offended.

Uldun hesitated. “But you just said . . .”

“That the gold would grant me Elana, yes, but it’s not Elana who is the problem. It’s her father. He wants her for the miller who, to be fair, has a far better living. I’d even step aside for Elana’s sake, but the miller is a toad of a man who would treat her ill. I can’t let that happen, so I need the treasure to convince her father that I’m the better match.”

“Well, that’s all very sad, but you can’t have the treasure, and here we are again.”

Karl held out his sword. “Don’t take me too lightly. I plan to give a good account of myself.”

“I’d expect nothing less. Still, it’s really too bad about that awful sword. It won’t be much help.” Not that it would have been in any case; Karl didn’t even know how to hold the thing properly.

“This is Elana’s father’s own sword! He served two years in Prince Lucian’s city garrison.”

Uldun had started to move forward again, but again he was brought up short. “Young man, I hope you’ll pardon my interminable curiosity, but didn’t you just say that Elana’s father was set against your suit?”

“Well, yes.”

“Then why on earth would he ‘help’ you by lending you that sword? Or did you steal it?”

Karl, once more affronted, shook his head. “I told you I’m no thief! Elana’s father said it was foolish to go into the Abandoned Lands without a weapon.”

Uldun forgot all about killing the silly youth. He realized he was now after bigger prey. “And how did he know you intended to go at all? While it’s probably common knowledge that there are tombs in the Abandoned Lands, the location of any one of them is most definitely not. You honestly think he’d put off the wedding while you muck about for years in this wasted land?”

“He swore he would. Elana’s father —”

“Told you where the tomb was in the first place. Of course. This was his idea, yes?” Uldun didn’t even need Karl’s answer; he knew what it would be.

“Well . . . yes. In his youth he sometimes hunted here. Apparently he found this place by accident.”

“And you didn’t think it strange, that he knew the exact location of a royal tomb and never came to look for himself?”

Karl frowned. “Well, there wasn’t any assurance that the tomb hadn’t already been plundered. It was a chance, he said, and that was all.”

“But there was such assurance,” Uldun said. “Me.”

“How could he have known about you?”

You’re no hunter, Karl, but that girl’s father was. How could a hunter not know what to find in a badger’s den? Uldun thought, but he said nothing more directly on the matter. “Doubtless you’re right, but I’m afraid that sword has seen better days.”

“It’ll have to do,” Karl said.

Uldun picked up a stout stick that he kept handy for shoring up stones and thrust it out at Karl. Karl, as he expected, was young and quick enough to attempt a parry. The sword clanked against the staff and then broke at the hilt. The blade went flying and clanged to a rest against the stones of the tomb wall. Karl stared at the broken hilt in sheer panic.

“As a barrow wight, I’m also a good judge of metal,” Uldun said. “I saw the flaw in that blade right away. Still, I’m sure your girl’s father wouldn’t have known.”

“I’m sure he didn’t,” Karl said, looking resigned. “No help for it now.” He dropped the useless hilt and settled himself into wrestler’s stance.

“I see you’re still determined,” Uldun said.

“Yes,” Karl said. “Let’s settle this.”

“Indeed. Though it occurs to me that there may be another way to do that.”

“There is? How?” Karl kept his stance, but there was a small gleam of hope in his eyes. Uldun nodded. He could work with that.

“You need treasure to win your girl’s father’s blessing, yes?” Karl nodded, and Uldun went on, “But does the treasure have to come from my home?”

Karl frowned. “Well . . . no.”

“Fine then. I happen to know that, a short distance from here, there is a small cache of gold coins hidden. Nothing like the king’s treasure here, mind you, but as much as you can carry and more than enough to convince Elana’s father of your worth. Far easier to hide and to spend, too. They are not part of the king’s treasure and thus no concern of mine. Is that satisfactory?”

Karl, still wary, stood up straight again. “Yes, of course. But why would you help me?”

“Because it’s my nature to defend my home, as I said; and I alone will judge the best way to accomplish this. However there are three things I will ask of you in return.”

“What are they?” Karl asked.

“One: that you never reveal to anyone where my home is. I get enough adventurers stumbling across my threshold as it is.”

Karl shrugged. “Easily done. I’ll never come back to this place; and I would certainly never send anyone else, knowing that you await them here.”

Uldun smiled. The youth was so completely lacking in guile it was almost frightening. “Two: Tell no one about me.”

“As for the first request: done, and gladly. What’s your third condition?”

“Elana’s father will believe that the gold came from this tomb. There’s no reason to tell him otherwise.”

“But that would be a lie of sorts, wouldn’t it?”

The wight shrugged. “Not necessarily. In a way, the treasure did come from your visit to the tomb. Isn’t that so?”

“Well . . . yes,” Karl admitted. “I don’t understand what difference it makes.”

“Perhaps none; time will prove one way or the other,” Uldun said. “Will you promise?”

“If those are your conditions then yes, I agree to all. But how will I know you’ve told me the truth about the gold?”

“When you find it, of course. If you do not, feel free to return and chastise me for it. You’ll know where to find me.”

“That I will,” Karl said, and sounded as if he meant it.

Uldun couldn’t help but wonder if Karl would really be foolish enough to return. Part of him actually wanted to know, and considered steering the lad false the first time. Yet Uldun was fairly certain that, if he misled the boy once, he might not be so trusting the second time. It was a chance he didn’t want to take. When he described where the secret cache was hidden, Uldun was very careful to make his directions plain and accurate.

Karl took his leave of the wight then; and Uldun settled down to wait, patient as only a wight with eons of time on his hands could be. Eventually, another visitor came to the tomb. Not Karl. An older man.

This one carried a much better sword, but it was sheathed. He walked confidently into the tomb, torch in one hand and bag for treasure in the other. He stopped, frozen, as Uldun stepped into the torchlight.

“He said . . .” The man started to speak, but his voice trailed away.

“No, he didn’t say, I fancy. Or you didn’t ask. Either way, the result is the same. You didn’t happen to bring a piece of the wedding cake? No? Pity.”

“What are you??”

“You know what I am. I’m what you expected Karl to find here. But he wasn’t a threat, really. He never wanted the treasure, but you did and you do. You knew it was here, but you never thought there was a chance to get it. You were right, you know.” Uldun held up the two pieces of Karl’s borrowed sword, and smiled with every long, pointed tooth in his head.

“Yours, I believe?”

* * *

Richard Parks lives in Mississippi with his wife, three cats, and more books that he’ll have time to read in this life. His stories have appeared in Asimov’s Science Fiction, Weird Tales, Fantasy Magazine, and Lady Churchill’s Rosebud Wristlet, among other places. His first collection, The Ogre’s Wife, was nominated for the World Fantasy Award. His second collection, Worshiping Small Gods, is published by Prime Books.

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