The Centipede, the Water, and the Dead
By Darker

Note: this story takes place in the Saga of Blood setting, but exists out of continuity due to the use of several monsters not present in the official Saga of Blood universe. It is a good story, and deserves to be included here, but does not actually take place in the same world as the rest of the Saga of Blood canon. It is a 'What If' story, illustrating a corner of the Saga of Blood universe that could have been, but never was.

In his hiding place in the shadows of the mahogany tree, further hidden by the night, the Hunter waited. He had been informed by the mayor of the nearby village that three blood mutants were living in this small forest.

He had been warned that two looked human, but they could be easily told of their true identity by the third.

Silently, the Hunter climbed down from the trees and slunk into the darkness as, in the distance, a fire was lit.

"One two three four one two three four," came the rhythmic counting that heralded the approach of Andy. Michael looked up from poking the fire with a stick, the light reflecting oddly off his skin. David looked up from poking the fire with his fingers, his face hidden in a full head helmet.

"One two three four -" THUD "-dammit one two three four…" The thud and curse told the two young men that Andy had walking into something again or fallen over.

Slowly, Andy walked into the clearing, carrying firewood in two of his many pairs of arms. When Andy walked, he constantly counted to keep in rhythm. If he didn't, he got his legs tangled up and fell over.

Of the three blood mutants, Andy had suffered the most. A giant centipede had attacked his village one day, and, of course, he had been splashed by its green blood. This resulted in his body lengthening and becoming covered in hard shell. Evenly spaced on each side of his body were pairs of limbs. The five pairs on the front end were human arms, while the back five where human legs. His face was human, except for the pair of mandibles that had sprouted out of his cheeks. Apart from the counting, Andy hardly talked.

Andy had been barely capable of walking in a straight line when human, so he was very disorientated in this form. Eventually, he had learned to walk again by counting in rhythm, but even this failed sometimes when he got distracted.

Michael stood up in his unique way. He had been blooded by a water elemental, so his bones were soft and rubbery and his skin seemed to flow like water. He really had to concentrate to stop himself from falling into a puddle with eyes. He could form a mouth and limbs, but more than two fingers per hand and a nose was too complicated. He sort of flowed into an upright shape and walked over, his arms swinging loosely by his sides. In fact his whole body rocked back and forwards as he moved, and when he stopped to help Andy he had to wait for the outer laying parts of his anatomy to stop moving by momentum.

David watched silently as Michael's arms sagged as they took the weight of one of the bundles of firewood Andy had collected. David didn't move much. Or breathe. Or eat or drink, for that matter. He didn't need to. He had never needed to since the day he was blooded. He held the hand he had poked the fire with up to his hidden face. Slowly, the blackened, burned flesh healed over to grey, gaunt skin stretched over bone. David smiled. Being blooded by a zombie was, in his opinion, a small price to pay for relative indestructibility. He just had to be careful of his head, because the only way to kill a zombie was to destroy the brain.

"Little help?" said Michael, his bubbly voice aggravated. David looked up through the slit on the front of the helmet. Another advantage of the helmet was hiding his glowing red eyes.

"Sure," David replied in a voice as dry as a crypt. He stood up, bones creaking. His frame could be closely described by using the word scarecrow.

When the firewood had been placed next to the fire for when it was ready, the three sat back down. Well, one sat, the second sort of melted and the third curled up to get his massive bulk next to the fire.

In the shadows, the Hunter wound up his crossbow. It was a special crossbow he had paid handsomely for. It could fire five arrows before it needed rewinding again. When he heard the voice of David, he froze. They never said anything about a zombie! he thought. He gulped and wiped his suddenly sweating brow. You did not cross a zombie. They were stronger than they looked. Much stronger.

Still, he had a job to do. 1,000 pieces of gold he would get for killing these freaks! His greed far outweighed his fear of the walking dead. Or half dead. Was a zombie blood mutant dead or alive?

Take out the big one first. A single arrow in the right place would do it. Next, he would do the runny one. It was partly solid, so a clean sword sweep would do it. But what about the zombie? It had a helmet on. Maybe he could cut its head off and then crush the head with a rock.

There. One thousand gold pieces in the bag. Reassured by his plan, the Hunter raised his crossbow to the centipede's human head.

Andy was already snoring. Before Michael fell asleep, he looked over to David's prone form. He was instantly reassured by his shape in the gathering darkness. David had said him self "Why should we take turns keeping watch when I don't need to sleep?"

Technically, this was not true. Every two weeks or so, David nodded off for half an hour.

Slowly, Michael got into his special thing. It was a shallow bowl, designed for him by Andy, who had been an apprentice blacksmith before he changed. It allowed him to sleep, because when Michael slept he loosed concentration on staying solid. Basically, it stopped him running everywhere while he slept. Michael did not wear clothes. He had nothing to hide. Besides, any clothing slid off him just after he put it on.

David watched and listened, his skeletal form constantly alert. While his head was covered by a helmet, David never needed armour anywhere else. He still wore a grimy shirt and trousers for modesty's sake. The shirt was unbuttoned, revealing his chest. There, on his left collar bone was a set of teeth marks. The zombie had been bleeding profusely when it had bit him. Below it were three ragged claw marks, hastily stitched together. Griffin. His friends had beaten it before it ribbed his arm off. Opposite that injury were some holes. Golems had pointy fingers. It had tried to tear his heart out when it found them raiding its temple for food. Luckily, David's heart had stopped beating when he had got blooded, all those months ago. None of this had bothered David. He had discovered he could turn off his nerves, avoid the sensation of pain.

Yes, it was possible that the humble zombie was by far the best monster to get blooded by.

"Wstfgl," said Andy in his sleep, and rolled over.

Thwup. David leapt up at the sound of a crossbow firing. Zombies were also very fast. Just before the arrow his friend, he caught the arrow. At least, he put his hand in the arrow's path.

"Wake up, guys!" David shouted. Andy's head shot up, noticed the arrow sticking through David's hand, and scrambled for the other side of the clearing, making it halfway before he got his feet tangled up again.

Michael slid to an upright position. "What's up?!" he yelped as, behind him, Andy made it to the safety of the trees.

"Hunter," David replied, pulling the shaft from his hand.

Two more arrows flew out of the shadows in front of them. One passed straight through Michael's watery body, while the other struck David in the chest.

"Hey!" David shouted. "I just got the bloodstains out of this shirt!"

"Who's there?" Michael asked the darkness.

"Took me ages to get that out!" David mumbled. "Blood's a hard stain!"

Slowly the Hunter stepped from the shadows, with the crossbow aimed at David's head.

"You've got one shot, not much chance of getting it through this eyehole, hey?" David said, pulling the arrow out and looking down at his chest. "Hey, good shot, right through the heart."

Michael's elasticised arms whipped out, knocking the crossbow from the man's hands, his other arm tying him up.

"What do you want?" Michael asked.

"Uh…" The Hunter was distracted by a voice going "One tow three four one two three four." Andy approached. The three blood mutants could clearly see the fear in the Hunter's eyes. "Are… are you gonna blood me?"

"No. We're not monsters. We just want to be left alone. Is that so much to ask?" Andy said. The other two had never heard him speak so much at once.

"So you can just go away, right, and leave all blood mutants alone, okay?" David said threateningly, waving the bloody arrow in the Hunter's face.

"David, stop it," Michael said, snatching the arrow off of him, and letting go of the Hunter with the other. He gratefully scurried away into the night.

"So they've sent Hunters after us," David mused.

"We'll have to leave. We're not safe. And we're a threat," Michael said solemnly.

"I think I can help!" said another voice from across the clearing. A man stepped into the light of the fire. He was dressed like a Hunter.

"Another one?" Andy gasped. "How many are there?"

"I won't hurt you, I promise. I made a promise to another blood mutant."

After a tense pause, David spoke up. "What's your name?"

"Ryan," the Hunter replied.

At the entrance to Haven, the town made by blood mutants, Aimee stood guard. She was not sure what to stand guard from, but she did it anyway. She scratched her scaly green arm with her human one. Except for her head and right arm, her entire body was covered in green naga scales, and instead of legs she had a long serpent's tail.

Something was approaching Haven. It was making a noise. Aimee frowned. What an odd noise for anything to make, she thought.

Leaning forward, she strained her ears to make out whatever ever it was, was saying.

Coming up from the base of the mountain on which Haven sat, blown up by the playful wind, she heard a young man's voice.

"One two three four one two thee four one two three four…"