Crossroad

by Riley S. Keene

  Ermolt pointed, and Elise saw them immediately. They had blended in with the room, because of all the rotted debris already on the floor.

  There was one against the far wall, next to the door that led farther in. The barbarian pointed to another crumpled in a fetal position next to one of the rotted chairs, and his extended finger kept moving, pointing to two places out of Elise’s field of vision. These were hiding behind dilapidated furniture strewn across the room.

  With a frown, Elise approached the one by the door.

  The corpse looked almost desiccated rather than rotted, with skin pulled taunt over bones. The rough outline of its teeth was visible on the cheeks of the corpse, and the remains of its lips had cracked away to dust, baring the incisors. Its clothes were in surprisingly good condition, considering the state of the other cloth in the room. Elise was shocked to see how much the design looked like the robes worn by modern Clerics of the other Temples.

  Only the patterns were different. The symbol on the front was one she’d never seen before, and she assume it was the holy symbol of Isadon.

  Elise found it slightly unnerving to look at.

  It was shaped like an eye, either bleeding or weeping. Something about the other lines radiating from it made her feel watched.

  As strange as it was, Elise felt the urge to say a prayer for the fallen Cleric. It was likely—considering the state of the room—that no one ever had.

  She knew that Ermolt, like all barbarians, believed that the lack of a proper burial meant that a person’s spirit was trapped as a ghost at the location of their corpse. Followers of Ydia believed that life was all there was, and the Nether that followed death was a featureless void. Prayers offered the dead a sense of comfort to sustain them, but nothing else.

  What did this person believe? Isadon was the God of Death. Surely his followers had beliefs of their own about the afterlife.

  But Elise squashed the feeling. She stood up and backed away from the corpse. It would be an insult to whomever this person had been to give them comfort with beliefs she no longer held in her own heart. It wasn’t her place. Perhaps if they could find some information about burial rites in Athala’s notes, or even elsewhere in the Temple, she could give it a go. Maybe Isadon’s prayers wouldn’t feel like blasphemy on her lips.

  “Did you hear something?” Ermolt asked from where he was surveying one of the rotted chairs.

  “No,” Elise said, drawing the word out as she stopped and listened. “What did you hear?”

  “Sounded like movement.” He shrugged and turned back to face her. “Perhaps it was a rat or something.”

  “I believe this will be the one place in Neuges we don’t find vermin. These corpses would have long since been stripped to the bone if there were any.”

  “Well then, what—”

  With a crackling noise like popping knuckles, the corpse behind the chair Ermolt was standing next to sat up. The barbarian jolted away from it, and the movement caused the corpse to turn its head unnaturally far around so it could orient empty eye sockets on Ermolt.

  There was a papery rustle, and the three other corpses also struggled to their feet.

  Undead.

  Athala’s notes had warned them that there would be undead here, but the category was broad enough that it could have been anything from harmless twitching parts—unsettling, sure, but not dangerous—to fully animated corpses. There was a range of danger even among those, and so Elise didn’t fault Ermolt for backing away from the corpse that was staring him down. While it might have put up no more fight than a bundle of sticks, there was the chance that whatever wild magic empowered it could give it enough strength to rip his arms off.

  “Careful,” Ermolt said, raising his hammer as he moved into position by Elise’s side. “They’re going to try to surround us.”

  Elise turned to stand back-to-back with Ermolt. The undead were moving around them, displaying some amount of sapience as they blocked the exits. Their movements were jerky and twitchy, accompanied by dry clicks and cracks, but their pace was slow. They were either unable or unwilling to rush in.

  It was possible that Elise and Ermolt could just dart around them and escape the room, but then they’d be at their back. And all sorts of problems could arise from there.

  “They must have been what the bandits were talking about,” Elise said. Instead of drawing her sword and dagger, she grabbed the shield that was slung over her pack and readied it on her arm before drawing her sword. “They didn’t seal the door and take the keystone to keep raiders and researchers from poaching the treasure. They did it to keep these things locked in.”

  Ermolt barked a shout of challenge as one of the corpses shambled towards him. His hammer arched around. There was a dull crackle of impact and the undead careened back, landing in a tangle of limbs.

  A lesser undead would have been shattered to dust by even that slight blow, like the skeletons below Khule. But this one jerked and jittered, untangling itself and rising to its feet.

  Elise could see its ribs were caved in and bits of bone came through the robe it wore. But it shambled forward again anyway, arms outstretched as it reached out for Ermolt.

  Two of the others approached from Elise’s side, and she turned to face them. Her sword wouldn’t be as effective as Ermolt’s hammer, but it would serve. And there was always her shield.

  With a shout, Elise raised the shield and lunged at the nearest of the pair of corpses. The metal surface slammed into its reaching arms. It felt like striking a heavy piece of furniture, but for the sound of breaking finger joints. Her attack caused the creature to stumble back, but its own strength halted her charge and unbalanced her, preventing her from following up.

  The other corpse moved in towards her, one of its hands raised to strike. Elise brought her sword up to parry. The tip of the blade sliced across the desiccated forearm, cutting open the sleeve and slicing through the undead flesh beneath.

  Bits of dust and dried gore poured from the cut in the sleeve, and while Elise didn’t believe undead felt pain, the corpse still recoiled at the strike. It backed away and its jaw opened in a memory of a cry with no sound. The taunt skin on its cheeks split apart, opening its face in a freakish grin.

  From behind her, she could hear Ermolt shout in triumph. There was a sound of impact and breaking bone. She had no time to look and see how he’d done, however, as the corpses before her pressed their attack.

  The one with the cut sleeve charged back in, not having learned its lesson. Elise brought her sword up once more and the blade lanced into the chest of the corpse, sliding between two ribs. The robe and flesh beneath parted with barely a whisper, and Elise could feel the moment when the tip of her weapon pressed out through the creature’s back.

  The undead swept down with both arms, looking to either grab her arm or smash her elbow. Elise quickly shoved the blade sideways. Flesh and cloth parted as the weapon ripped out of the creature’s chest. With a soundless howl, the undead grabbed at its side. One arm crackled as it bent at an unnatural angle to hold the split flesh closed, as if the corpse were trying to staunch the wound. As if it thought blood was pouring from the deep gash, instead of just long-dried dust.

  While she was distracted, her other opponent charged in. Elise was barely able to raise her shield before its broken fingers could reach her face. The impact of its strength against her sent her stumbling, almost bumping into Ermolt.

  She managed to regain her balance and not disrupt his side of the fight, but she grunted with effort to shove against the corpse to regain the ground. The creature tried to reach around the shield to grab her, but Elise brought her sword down hard. Instead of the blade, however, she smashed it with the pommel. There was a sickening crack and the hand she hit went limp. The mimicry of pain that possessed the creature caused it to recoil and it backed away, giving Elise the space that she needed to follow up on the first one she’d cut.

  Whatever it was that made the creature intelligent e
nough to try and surround them was working against it as it clutched the deep wound in its side.

  Was it thinking? Did its mind still work enough to wonder why it was still standing with such a mortal wound? Was it aware it was undead?

  The corpse looked up at her, and she almost wish its shriveled sockets had eyes, as they would have answered the many existential questions she had about these undead.

  Its jaw parted again, and Elise struck before it could lunge at her once more. She put her shoulder into the strike with a sharp cry, and her sword cut into the side of its neck. Elise had anticipated it throwing the corpse to the side, but her strike landed just right. The blade slid between two vertebrae and severed the spine. With a grunt of effort, Elise guided the weight of the blade through the rest of the neck, severing the head. The corpse fell to the ground instantly, like a puppet with its strings cut.

  Elise turned on the other, and pushed forward, shield raised. The corpse backed away from her, flailing its shattered hand at her. Instead of showing mercy to the undead abomination, Elise coiled to lunge at it so she could finish it up with a clean swipe.

  Ermolt bellowed a challenge from behind her, and Elise watched as the corpse’s empty eye sockets widened in fear. The barbarian’s hammer came down and landed directly on top of the undead’s skull. There was a wet cracking noise and its head vanished, pounded into its ribcage. A spray of bone and dust accompanied the creature’s spine shattering under the impact. Unsurprisingly, it collapsed to the ground.

  “Thank you,” Elise said, even though she hadn’t needed the help. She was still appreciative of the effort.

  “You’d do the same for me.” Ermolt took a deep breath as he looked around the room. His two foes were on the ground with their bodies in mangled, shattered states. One of the two skulls had been crushed against the wall, and the other was still intact but was no threat. It snapped its jaws at them ineffectively.

  “Guardians.” Elise shrugged and returned her sword to its sheath. It felt weird to do without cleaning it, but the desiccated corpse had no blood to dirty the blade. She kept her shield on her arm though.

  “There will be more,” Ermolt said with a nod. “But they shouldn’t be anything to be afraid of. Likely more of this.” He gestured at the scattered remains.

  Elise wiped her brow. If every room was going to be full of undead, this was going to be quite the workout.

  “Let’s keep moving then.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Beyond the door was a narrow hallway that hugged the interior wall. The wall itself was cracked and falling apart, and Ermolt could clearly see the pit in the middle of the Temple. It was only due to his superior height that he was able to see it over the crumbling wall, and so he declined to mention this to Elise. She likely would have appreciated it, if she knew.

  On the opposite wall of the small hallway were a series of doors into smaller side rooms. The rotted remains of thick wooden doors filled the feet of the doorframes, and the space beyond was occupied by long-decayed debris.

  Ermolt couldn’t even guess what the room’s purpose had once been, since there was no clear furniture to go by.

  At the end of the hallway, another stone door had sealed up what looked like a small library. The walls were lined with heavy bookshelves, and a pair of long tables ran down the length of the room. There were even simple wooden chairs. Like the sitting room behind them, it seemed like the stone doors had sealed the room well enough to preserve the furniture, but the shelves looked like they had been picked over.

  In the entire room there were maybe twelve books, and half of them lay open on the long desk, the exposed pages long destroyed by some sort of vermin. Likely insects. Or perhaps just desiccation and time.

  Unlike the other rooms, this one was lit, with glowing white globes casting a dim light over the entire space. Ermolt wasn’t sure what magic powered them, but it had to be powerful to still be effective after centuries of decay, even if they had started bright enough to read by.

  Once more, at the far end of the room was another stone door. This one was larger than the one they entered.

  Elise touched Ermolt’s arm, drawing him from his slack-jawed examination of the room. She pointed beneath the table, and once he saw what she pointed out, he grimaced. More undead. Ermolt once more surveyed the room, now with a critical eye, and he noted two more. One was slumped next to a bookshelf, and a third was at the far end of the room, laying underneath an overturned chair.

  Ermolt sighed and moved towards the nearest corpse. He kept his hammer at the ready, but he stayed out of arm’s reach. It was likely that these were just corpses. But Ermolt was no fool, and wouldn’t leave it to chance. The previous undead had ignored them just the same for a time, until they’d gotten too close.

  With a jab of his finger, Ermolt pointed to the corpse near the bookshelf, and Elise nodded. She drew her sword and crossed the room to it.

  He would have loved a third person to ambush the last corpse, but, well, that’s why they were here, wasn’t it?

  With a grimace of determination, Ermolt made his move. He took one step towards the corpse before bringing his other foot down on its head.

  The creature had laid still until his foot made contact. It twitched as soon as he touched it, but it was too slow. His weight came down on the fragile skull and it cracked like a ceramic jar full of sand. Ermolt tried to not think about the dried remains of its brain running out onto the floor around his boot.

  Nearby, Elise let out a startled cry as the corpse near her began to move. She’d been expecting it, and yet still the sudden movement gave her a fright. Ermolt didn’t blame her. Undead were an unnatural sort that creeped him out. In retaliation for the fright, Elise brought her blade around not once, but three times. On the second swing the corpse stopped moving, but she embedded her blade in its skull on the third swing nonetheless.

  There was a rattle as the third creature rose, struggling for a moment with the chair that it had been tangled with.

  Ermolt let out a low bellow of challenge and charged across the room to it. He ignored the few chairs that had been pushed out from the table and blocked his way. His momentum carried him through them, splintering them to kindling. With a growl, Ermolt swept his hammer towards the undead, but it ducked the blow with surprising agility. Just the same, Ermolt let his momentum carry his body weight forward and he slammed into the creature.

  As strong as it might have been, the full force of a charging barbarian was too much for it. His weight drove it into the bookshelf behind it. Brittle bones cracked and shattered between body and shelf, and the creature was reduced to four separate sections. Its shoulders, neck and head hit the ground, still twitching, and Ermolt was sure to bring his foot down on the skull hard to end the creature.

  “Good work,” Elise said, dusting her sword off with a shake before returning it to its sheath. “If only all our foes could be dispatched of with such efficiency.”

  Ermolt smiled. “Undead are only a problem when they’re a surprise.” He shrugged and tossed his hammer over his shoulder. “They’re not smart enough to be a serious threat now that we know to expect them.”

  “What do you think happened here?” Elise gestured to the empty bookshelves. “This place looks like its been raided. But no one raided the room behind us?” She pointed to the nearest corpse, the one she’d stabbed in the head. “And these didn’t attack whoever did it?”

  “Perhaps it happened a long time ago.” Ermolt kicked the dusty remains off his boots. “This place might have been emptied for cleaning around the time Isadon died. Or they were robbed right after these folks were killed, before whatever magic animated them was able to do… do the magicky things that make undead.”

  Elise gingerly tried to pick up a book from the shelf next to her. The cover came apart in her hands, scattering the book’s contents. She made a disgusted noise as the pages crumbled to fragments when they hit the ground at her feet. “Maybe. Not that it would ha
ve mattered. These are worthless.”

  “We’re not here to loot the place anyway,” Ermolt said, turning towards the far door. “Not for books, at least.”

  Elise snorted with laughter and joined him at the door. They both frowned at it for a moment. It wasn’t just a door, but a slab of rock. There were draconian runes around the frame, and Ermolt once more missed having Athala with them. She could have read the runes and told them if they were a warning, or simply instructions. But Ermolt refused to say such a thing out loud. He was sure Elise was thinking it as well, just the same.

  After a moment of staring at the indecipherable runes, Elise motioned to the door and Ermolt stepped up and pushed on it.

  The slab of rock didn’t move.

  He dropped his hammer and put both hands against it, pushing harder.

  There was a faint creak, and the stone shifted slightly, but it didn’t move more than the width of a fingernail.

  “Do we need another keystone?” Elise asked. She squinted harder at the draconian runes, as if their meaning would suddenly leap out at her.

  “No.” Ermolt backed away from the stone, recovering his hammer. “I felt this one move. Whatever was holding the door at the entrance didn’t even shift.” He hefted the hammer. “This one isn’t the same.”

  Elise took a few long strides away from the door. “Well, then, let’s see how.” She gestured for Ermolt to go ahead.

  He lifted his hammer above his head and brought it down hard, quickly. It was just to test the stone, but the slab visibly shook under the impact. The sound of the strike felt dulled and muted, unlike when he had struck the entryway outside. His weapon came up and then down again, rattling the stone slab in its frame. This time, the stone cracked under the impact.

  Ermolt gritted his teeth and prepared for one more strike. With it, the room filled with a cacophonous sound of stone sundering. One side of the crack shifted and fell away, and Ermolt threw his shoulder against the remaining piece, and it tumbled out of the way.