Groundborn

by Scott Moore

  Miles dealt the cards and Sammy waited for him to pick his own up first. He noticed that Miles face changed as he looked at the cards. Even in losing, the men betrayed what cards they had by their faces. One man squinted when his cards were good and bit his lip when they were bad. For Miles, Sammy noticed his only tick. On a bad hand Miles would take slower sips of his cup. Miles looked up at Sammy and smiled.

  “I guess you aren’t as lucky as you thought,” he said and took a slow drink.

  Sammy picked up his own cards. They weren’t great, but he knew Miles’ hand was worse. That slow drink betrayed him, and he didn’t even know it.

  Sammy didn’t respond to the taunt. Instead he looked again at his cards. He didn’t know what the names of the symbols were, but he understood their value well enough. He had enough to beat the hand Miles held. Miles threw two cards down on the table and picked two new ones. Sammy waited for the sign. Miles picked his cup up and took another long slow drink. It hadn’t made a difference Sammy decided.

  Sammy threw two of his own cards down. He hadn’t needed to. He knew that his hand would win, but he had noticed several times that if the person you were playing already knew you had them beat, they were more likely to fold and move to the next hand. Sammy didn’t want that, he had said he could beat Miles not make him quit. Miles passed Sammy two new cards. They did nothing for him, but he didn’t need them anyhow.

  “I hope you are in a losing mood,” Miles said and placed his cards on the table. Miles had tried to play a double of a low symbol, but that wouldn’t be enough to beat Sammy.

  “I almost forgot,” Miles turned to a man next to him. “You don’t mind throwing some silver onto the table for me, do you?”

  The man hesitated and looked at Miles’ hand of cards. Sammy knew the man would fold. Miles had control of some sort over them all. Sure, enough the man reached into his pocket and flipped two silver onto the table.

  Sammy didn’t have any money. He didn’t even understand the need for it. Miles smiled and turned to another soldier at the table. “Looks like my man here needs to borrow a few as well,” he said.

  The soldier didn’t look pleased, but he threw his lot onto the table.

  “Seems we are waiting only on you to lose now, Sammy,” Miles said.

  Sammy knew he had won and put the cards down on the table. The conversation started to buzz and grow loud. Sammy reached out for the coins on the table. He didn’t have a clue what he would do with them, but he knew they were now his to keep. Sammy pocketed the coins and then looked up. The room was noisy. Miles stared straight at him with his jaw slack and his eyes wide. Was he that shocked at Sammy beating him a single hand?

  Then Sammy heard the growl behind him. Fear, not shock, Miles was afraid.

  27

  Constant swirling, laughter, joy, and it was all rubble. It meant nothing to them and even less to her. Yet, both the group of nobles and Alti stayed put inside the room that grew much too warm.

  Alti ducked away behind another pillar. The room swirled with energy and the sweat rolled down her body. She leaned her head against the cold stone for a moment, thinking to herself. She imagined the bodies of the Groundborn piling up before her. Imagined the way her blades would slice through them. It comforted her. Nerves were running rampant ever since Hamms had caught her. How she had let her guard down so low? There should have been no way anyone found her in the shadows and yet, Hamms had casually strolled up to her side.

  His ease had been almost unnerving. Nov convinced her that no one would help the city if it fell. She didn’t get that vibe from Hamms though. He felt different. Almost like Nov felt different.

  Alti took a chance to poke her head around. She made a quick sweep of the room. Things would come to a close soon. She looked at the grand dais and saw Hamms staring right back at her. His meaty hand rose from his hip and he waved with a smile. Alti shoved her head back around. Her heart hammering. What was this man’s deal?

  Alti opened another hole into the room and stepped through to the other side. If Hamms came to visit her again, she wouldn’t be sticking around to greet him. She stepped out on the other side. His attention had wavered to a young woman in servant clothes next to him. Her eyes looked more intense than just a maid servant. Alti didn’t have time to think on that. There would be a room full of Groundborn soon. She had to stay focused on protecting the people.

  She pulled her shirt from her chest and allowed the sweat to roll down her breast.

  She watched so many people dancing and twirling that she started to feel dizzy. The constant motion and exertion clouded the air. The fake joy and laughter clawed at her ears.

  Why would people make it such a point to pretend to be joyous? Why not leave and find something that truly made them happy?

  She spared a glance for the women upon the dais. Alti could never understand human nature. Sure, her mother had been a human, but that didn’t mean much in the Gremory.

  People seemed to do things they hated for people they couldn’t stand, so they could be stepped on. While they did this, they smiled and nodded in feigned pleasure. Baffling. Most of the men here would leave this ball and drink themselves silly and whore the city until dawn. That may make them happy for the night, but she knew they would wake up feeling like hell. Then they would do it all over again.

  That is if they were able to wake up again at all. Alti touched her weapons. They were both there on her hip. Her palms, she noticed, were a lot sweatier than they should have been. Why was she so worried about saving these people? She knew why she wanted to save humanity, but these people in this ball? It had to have been Nov’s grating voice trailing around in her mind. She had made a promise to him. One she intended upon keeping. She wiped her hands on her pants. Everyone was going to make it.

  She could see their potential, but no one could force feed it to them. Only protect what little semblance of life they had; even the complete rubbish.

  Alti watched as a couple stopped dancing. The man grew handsy with the woman during the twirl. She didn’t look pleased, but the man’s rank made it impossible to say so and so she contended to stay quiet. He grabbed her by the shoulder and guided her to a darker portion of the hall and grabbed the front of her bodice.

  Alti gave a split-second thought to stopping him. She could easily deter the man’s attention. But then she would have to become exposed. She would ruin the entire reason she came. She didn’t feel like voiding the three hours she had stood in the shadows.

  The woman turned her head but said nothing. Alti turned away, sickened by what would happen next. She didn’t need to see it. She didn’t need to see it to realize that the woman’s pride and position were forfeit. Humans were not only fake, they were sometimes very vile.

  She saw Hamms striding into the middle of the ballroom floor. He had the hand of the maid servant and he guided her. His eyes flashed to the corner. She wondered what he saw and then he dropped his lady’s hand. For a moment, Alti’s heart fluttered. Was he coming for her again? Then he made two wide steps and came to the pillar.

  “It is disgusting to be so presumptuous in the company of the Lady Duchesses,” Hamms said loud enough that the band stopped their instruments. Everyone’s eyes focused on him. Alti took the moment to move from her hiding spot and get a better look around the room.

  Pillars on both the right and left. They were twenty feet high on the right and thirty on the left. The height wouldn’t do much in the way of helping her. They were too slick to climb and had no footholds. They could provide cover if she herded the people behind them. She whirled to look at the steps again. A quick count told her that it would take nine steps to get to the top. If someone were ambitious, or a monster, they could probably do it in four and a half.

  The rest of the floor opened to a wide dance floor. It had been waxed prior to the dancing, but now scuff marks from shoes made purchase a little easier for fighting.

  “I believe it would be best if you went home and slept this
one off,” Hamms said.

  Alti turned back to the presentation. Hamms had a man by his collar. He didn’t look angry. Alti wondered if he were just holding him upward for all to see. Like putting the man on display. Alti smiled seeing the man who forced himself on the woman.

  Nov had been right that many of the nobles were filth, but she liked Hamms.

  Hamms waited for two guards to come and escort the drunk man from the dance floor. Then he turned back to his maid servant and grabbed her hand. Hamms almost smiled a genuine smile. Then he looked to the dais and dropped his hand. He walked past his maid and back to his spot. Whatever had made him jovial for that brief moment had worn off just as quick. The maid, looking dejected, tucked her head and made for a door situated to the adjacent corner. Alti thought it were for the best, one less soul for her to guard.

  Alti looked at the Lady Duchesses, who had not moved. They had not danced a single step. Did they even know they were at a party? The ladies sipped on something out of dainty glass saucers and talked in hushed whispers. The most powerful women in the city and to their knowledge the most powerful in the world.

  So much these people didn’t understand, and much more they had forgotten. What had Nov told her? “People tend to lose track of things if they aren’t put in front of them constantly.” He had been right on that accord.

  She hoped he had it in him. No question Nov dedicated his life to Sera. He was even more dedicated to Earl. That didn’t equate to bravery in a tough situation. Sure, he had fought the Groundborn. He had trained countless years of his life for that act. Raising a sword became second nature to men like him.

  That didn’t mean he could turn that crank and just sit back to watch. It would be the hardest act of his life, and Alti just hoped she had chosen correctly. It all rode on his shoulders now. A simple movement and his job would be done, but he would have to be the strongest man in the city to do it.

  Alti shook her limbs. She had heard the quarter mark, so time had to be drawing closer now. She had watched these people long enough. Now she just hoped she could save them.

  She had told Nov she would save them all. Had that been to calm his nerves? Was it possible to save every soul? She doubted that even he believed that possible, but sometimes people had to hold on to their illusions to survive.

  Alti moved along the perimeter of the room, trying to stay in the shadows. She had to be as close to the door as possible. When those creatures heard the commotion here, they would flock to it. It was the only hope to keep the Groundborn in control. They would come to the most populated area with the most noise.

  She made it to within a few strides of the door. When that wood splintered it would be an instant panic. The women and men alike would scream and run for the hills. She doubted that even with swords the people would have fought.

  It didn’t matter anyhow she needed to be on her own. She needed a clear space; a place to allow her to do her work. Work that a sword could not complete.

  Positioned and ready to go, Alti took a final glance around the room. It would be cramped and tight for a fight, but most people would cram in together. If she could end everything quickly, then it would minimize the damage done.

  “May strength be with you,” she whispered a prayer for Nov.

  Then she cleared her mind. The bell tower rang.

  ***

  The gate opening gave the only beacon the Groundborn needed. Nov watched the nest. They were harder to make out in the darkness, but with the amount of Groundborn pouring through their openings it became easier to point them out. Nov felt the cold sweat dripping down his brow. With his stomach knotting, he turned and puked over the shack wall onto the unforgiving city wall.

  With each wrenching of his insides, he saw the flash of their eyes. Bright yellow eyes that saw nothing but chaos. Yellow claws that hung from saggy gray arms that were made for nothing but death and destruction. Nov lifted his hand to wipe the spittle from the sides of his mouth. People were in danger and he puked his guts up; some warrior.

  He grabbed the wall, trying to stay straight. Watching the gray backs of the Groundborn pour toward the gates was something out of a nightmare. The end that Earl had always told him about poured into the streets.

  Nov drew in a deep breath. Whatever happened now he could not control. He had already opened the gates. No turning back. Nov let his insides meet the outside world again. He failed at his own body. How did he imagine he would help those below?

  He brought his shirt up to wipe his mouth again. He still had spittle left inside his beard and it smeared. It took all he had not to let go again. Composing himself, he lifted his head back and looked toward the city gate.

  Evidence of his treachery ran up the dark city streets. The creatures called the Groundborn were all shapes and sizes. The ones he saw were only waist high beasts. Those were the ones he grew accustomed to seeing. Others he had seen in the pictures of history books. Books so old and covered in dust that he doubted anyone else had ever seen them.

  They would not bother the quiet homes. Nov hoped that no unsuspecting street urchin wandered the path toward the noble’s hooray.

  Groundborn continued to pop up from their nests further and further back from the walls. There were so many that Nov couldn’t keep a head count. How many could this woman kill on her own? How many would the nobles account for?

  Nov tried to control his mind. A fruitless activity he soon realized. His hands ached to touch the wheel and close the gates. His legs fought to run toward the stairs. His every instinct yearned to stop the attack.

  Instead, he watched as what had to be over a hundred Groundborn scrambled through the gates. They did not march as the armies of old. The bastards crawled over one another. They bit into their allies’ necks, leaving some dead on the cobbled path. They were not an army they were animals ready for a feast. Their only desire, to taste the flesh of their human foes. They would take to any measure to see it come to fruition.

  Yellow eyes continued to fill the darkness of the night. Nov turned away gathering his wits. He had promised to sit and stay calm. Nothing more he could do. He made his choice and now he had to live with it.

  His mind raced to Earl. How disappointed would Earl be? This had not only been the life work of Nov, but the life passion of Earl. He would kill Nov right where he stood if he were here. The problem was that Earl wasn’t here. He was dead or dying in the hospital hundreds of feet below. He felt nothing about the situation at hand and maybe he never would. Nov wanted Earl’s acceptance. He had striven for it his entire life, but at this moment it wasn’t about that. Survival had to take precedence Nov wouldn’t survive, but these people of the city would. They would prosper and continue to thrive.

  That is if the woman in the cowl kept her promise; the promise that she could control the situation.

  Something flashed across the corner of his eye. He could have sworn he had seen a moving shadow. He looked for it now. Nothing but the Groundborn piling into the city streets.

  The shadows had moved earlier, he wondered if the stress of the situation played with his mind. He let killers into his city. Breaking his vows. He was a bastard traitor. Could that all be weighing on him so much that he saw things?

  Did it matter? What the hell would shadows do that the Groundborn wouldn’t? Shadows couldn’t kill the city of Sera. The Groundborn continued to flow into the city through the open gates.

  Nov wiped sweat from his brow. He couldn’t take the knotting in his stomach any longer. He had promised to open the gates to the creatures. Vowed to the woman not to balk at the task. He had fulfilled that role. He refused to allow an entire horde army to overrun the streets. Hundreds had entered the city, enough to see this plan through.

  His fingers fumbled at the wheel. He shook so bad that it hurt his shoulders. Still, he turned the crank the opposite way, starting the process of closing the gates.

  The Groundborn let out monstrous howls. They clamored over one another. Ripping and tearing
with their teeth and claws. Nov had started a panic amongst them. They were killing each other for the chance to enter the city. This caused a clog at the gates, but they would dissipate back into the ground by morning.

  Nov pulled as hard as his emotionally weakened muscles would allow. The Groundborn that were not lucky enough to make it into the city were smashed between the gates. With a crunch of bone Nov felt some elation. Killing those fuckers always felt so good.

  ***

  Her nerves were steady, but she would be a liar if she said she felt no doubt. Alti moved toward the door. Nov would have already turned the handle over five minutes ago. Now or never. He had either followed through with his end of the bargain, or he had ruined the hope of the city for good.

  The thud echoed, but Alti could tell only a few had made it to the door. The Groundborn would be instantly attracted to the lights and sounds of the ball. Each of them would be on their way now to put a stop to the joyous occasion.

  Alti glanced back over her shoulder. Not a single guest had heard the reverberating sound of creature on wood. It didn’t matter, Alti knew they were there. Another set of them slammed their bodies against the wood. They would take the door by sheer force and numbers. They would maim and kill each other, but eventually the doors would give, and the killing would turn to the humans behind her.

  Another slam and the door shook on its hinges. They would beat their bodies against it until it fell. Groundborn weren’t the smartest of agents. Her father had always known this, but it didn’t matter when he had sheer numbers and a one-track mind of death and destruction. Another hit and the floor shook. The music stopped. Their attention peaked.

  The Groundborn were breaking the door in, a human army would have simply opened the handle. Alti stepped to the open floor. When the door broke, the only barrier left would be Alti. The door shook again and splintered near the edges. It wouldn’t last much longer.