Space Wizards

35. Cleanse the Undead

The three-headed monster punched Øregård in the face so hard that the helmet on its meaty fist cracked in two. Coincidentally, the same number of teeth went flying out of Øregård's flapping mouth. The punch stunned him and though he still stood, he was reeling. A follow-up blow in the form of a left hook pummeled the other side of Øregård's face and swelled his eye closed something awful. The second hit was so violent and sudden, his brain bounced back and forth inside his skull. Dizziness turned into a blackout and the big guy went down. 

Øregård's good eye blinked at the three dead faces growling above him. The monster lifted him off the floor by his chest plate, turned him upside down, and shook him out of his armor. His bare chest and stomach slapped the floor when he hit and the sting snapped him out of his stupor. He looked up in time to see a foot coming his way. He tightened his muscles and took repeated kicks to the midsection. Then he grabbed the beast's ankle with both arms and twisted until it snapped. 

The monster roared, clawed at the air, and went down right on top of Øregård. The two began to wrestle across the carnage-strewn floor. Huge fists pounded and repeated body shots hardly weakened either of them. The three heads bit into Øregård's chest, neck, and face, ripping chunks from his flesh and swallowing them. Øregård got his arms around one head and snapped its neck. The creature tried to shove him away and he bent back two of its fingers until they broke. 

Øregård was on his feet first and made a lung for his jagged sword, still attached to his armor on the ground. The monster caught his leg and stopped him. He looked up at two enraged heads spitting blood and growling; the third hung limp and drooling. Øregård went for the hand with broken fingers to try and snap another but the creature grabbed his arm with both hands and yanked it out of its socket. 

"Aaaaagh!!!"

As tough as Øregård was, this foe was brutal. His Gastraddar mind was bred for fighting and he addressed this fight with pure instinct. 

The creature swung him around by the arm. It bent this way and that and never in a way it should. Øregård let all his weight fall toward his sword. The monster ripped his arm away from his body, tearing muscle and beginning to rip flesh. Øregård reached and got the handle before he was yanked back to his feet by his dislocated arm. He flew forward and swung, connecting with one of the heads and severing it. The beast didn't let go and other zombies began to bite and claw at Øregård's twisted arm. They gnawed his bicep to the bone as he hacked at them with his sword. 

The screeching last head of the abomination called the surviving undead to his aid. Øregård hacked wildly in all directions unable to break free of the monster's hold. He tugged with all his strength ripping his own arm all the more in the process. 

When Mr. Grimble finally got enough power transferred to his Sentinel, he opened the chest cavity, and his bronze clockwork robot jumped out. He sprang back to life just in time to see Øregård have his left arm torn clear from his body. Undead soldiers stabbed him and bit him. He staggered back in a blind rage hacking zombies in two and severing heads. Grimble raced forward, sword and shield in the quick hands of his Uz-style mechanical man. 

The robot soldier was faster and far more agile than those risen from the dead. Grimble sliced his way to his wounded friend and got between him and the formerly three-headed monster.

"You're an ugly one aren't you?" he said before ducking between the behemoth's legs and slicing the Achilles tendon of its already broken foot. 

The beast went down swinging Øregård's severed arm wildly in the air. Grimble blocked the thud of his friend's arm turned bludgeoning weapon with his shield and sliced at the monster's neck. The impact of the arm shoved Grimble off, but when the monster stood it still had one functioning head. 

"Ugly and hard to kill," said Grimble. 

The short robot turned and ran toward the mountain of undead dogpiled on Øregård. Grimble slashed at arms, legs, and heads until he caught a glimpse of Øregård's blood-smeared face.

"You still with me, old friend?" 

Øregård slashed two bodies from his position on the ground in response. 

"Let's get you back on your fee—" 

Øregård saw the mangled monster swat Grimble's robot away with his own arm. The shock of this site caused his brain to release whatever endorphins it had left. He jammed his feet under his body and stood. He followed his arm winding up for a swing and ignored the others trying to kill him. He torqued his one-armed body and chopped off the monster's arm in reprisal. 

The beast staggered and roared as two big blood-soaked arms splatted on the ground. It limped a few desperate hops on its one good leg before it went down. The neck of its last remaining head snapped when it hit and the monstrosity lay shattered on the floor. Grimble herded the undead with his shield and Øregård slashed them to pieces with the rage of a one-armed swordsman. 

For Grimble, the whole nightmarish scene was out of this world. He was a tinkerer, an inventor, a creator, and a craftsman. Though he had seen plenty of war before, he had never been in a fight like this one. He understood combatants that wouldn't stay down but these undead were ridiculous. Their primitive weapons nicked and dented the metal of his robot and his own sword slashed and stabbed their undying corpses. 

"Remove the head," he said to himself as a reminder that other efforts were mere wastes of time. 

He worked the controls from inside the bronzed plated head of his robot. Little finger movements spanned out across complex gears and hydraulics. Grimble was at one with his mechanical creations and they moved like a ballerina and a puppeteer. While rage and anger fueled Øregård's killing spree, Grimble fought with the speed and grace of a tireless swordsman. He ducked enemy advances, parried oncoming blades, and slew the dead sending them back to their graves. 

In the end, Øregård stood in the center of the room surrounded by death. His chest heaved up and down as he sucked in big gulps of air. His body was covered in bite marks and stab wounds, his arm lost in the pile of carnage, and his mind utterly numb to the pain. 

Grimble sent the last of the Necromancer's army back to eternal rest and retrieved his friend's arm from the countless body parts scattered across the cavern cathedral.

He carried the appendage over to Øregård and said reassuringly, "You know I have some experience with putting living beings back together as well. We'll get you sorted out. Now, don't die on me."

Øregård looked at the little bronze man with his bloody good eye and smiled a broken toothed grin. Grimble had to admit his surprise by the fact that the big guy was somehow, against all odds, still standing. 

"You Gastraddars might be the toughest species in the galaxy."