Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #20 November 2015 | Page 17

“He’s here for me.”

Bana didn’t know what some religious ceremony
would do. Bana wanted to rush out, wanted to spend
her last moments heroically and fight whoever was
controlling the monsters.

The women rushed into the building. Candles
were lit inside. Two older black women, perhaps in
their sixties, looked up from an altar.

Perhaps she would get that chance.

“What’s going on down there?” one of the
women asked fearfully in French.

***
The necromancer and his sailors followed the
zombie up another mountainous trail.

“The zombies,” Christine answered back in
the same tongue. “They’ve been turned against us. A
necromancer—”
“It was only a matter of time! A matter of time
before they found us here. We must act quickly, before
we’re all shipped back as living corpses!”
“What’s going on?” Bana asked in English,
confused by the foreign conversation.
Christine placed a hand on Bana’s shoulder. “If
you only knew.”
***
The cloaked man looked around the camp,
impressed at how quickly many of the villagers had
been transformed into zombies. Though most of the
people had separated and escaped into the jungle, he
had no worries. They would find them eventually, and
anyone that tried to make a break for the boat would
meet the muskets of the other soldiers waiting on the
beach.

Incense was burned. Circles were drawn.
Words were recited.
The candles burned all around them. Bana
could only look around with confusion, her sword
drawn as she kept her eyes on the door. Christine had
told her not to leave, not to break the circle, though

“There!” the necromancer exclaimed, certain
as he pointed his flute. “She’s in there! Bring her to
me!”
Obediently, the zombies crept towards the
building as the sailors watched nervously.
The zombies reached the door. Looking at the
bright light, they were wary and growled afraid to grab
the door. They backed away, shielding their eyes.
The necromancer sighed, turning to a sailor.
“Open that damned door.”
The sailor looked at the necromancer with
fright. “Me?”

“The priestess is here,” the cloaked man
remarked. “She is the only one that we need to keep in
her human state.”
***
The ceremony was rushed but efficient.

A building glowing with astral energy stood at
the top, its power flowing from one of the stars shining
bright in space.

“Yes. They won’t do it. You do it.”
“You sure I won’t get burned? Or worse?”
A sword was drawn. The necromancer h