by Jess Lebow
“Magic? I think that qualifies as useful.” Ryder turned to gauge Nazeem’s reaction.
The Chultan shook his head, looking skeptical.
“What sort of magic?” prodded Ryder.
“Illusions,” said Curtis. “Illusions, mostly.”
Ryder shrugged. He didn’t know what good parlor tricks were going to be in a fight, but it certainly couldn’t hurt to have a magic-user on their side. Better than having one cowering in the corner.
“Come on then,” he said, shepherding Curtis toward the ladders. “You should be up above, where you can get a good view of everything unfolding.”
Curtis nodded nervously. “Will I be safe up there?”
Ryder tried to put a smile on his face. “As safe as anywhere.”
With Curtis on the wall above and the Broken Spear in their places, Ryder and Nazeem headed out of the front gate, running through the shadows cast by the towering wall. Skirting around the first of the statues on the northern side of the pathway, the two men sneaked closer to the stairs.
Ryder pulled up about halfway between the gate and the first of the stairs behind a half-broken statue of a giant holding a tremendous spear. The entire upper body had been toppled, so the head and shoulders lay on the ground beside the plinth that supported the rest of the statue. The rubble provided a larger area to hide behind, and if the undead giants came to investigate, the two men could climb under the fallen statue’s arm, further hiding themselves.
Ryder could hear the giants talking to one another. They sounded a little like an old man suffering from a nasty head cold and a little like the noise of two large rocks being rubbed together.
“Do you speak Giant?” he asked Nazeem.
The Chultan shook his head. “Why would you think that I might know how to speak their jibber jabber of a language?”
Ryder shrugged. “I don’t know. You seem to know everything else and I figured it couldn’t hurt to ask.”
The first of the undead giants climbed up over the last step. The creature was tall and lean, resembling very much the giants depicted by the statues lining the pathway. In the pale moonlight, the creature’s flesh was dull gray. Its tattered skin hung from its bones, flapping as the giant shifted its weight forward and back with each step. Its ribs were exposed on its left side, and a stream of dark, viscous fluid leaked from the opening.
The creature lumbered toward the gate, dragging a huge club in one hand and a boulder in the other. A second, then a third undead giant climbed over the rise of the last step. They were a little smaller than the first, but they were still massive in comparison to Ryder and Nazeem.
The trio continued to talk to each other until the largest spotted the first of the statues. It went still, raising its club to alert the others. As a group, they approached, being careful to circle around behind the statue as they came. When they got close enough, the big one swung its club, smashing the stone with a mighty blow.
The giant’s club knocked the head loose, and it fell to the ground, spinning toward the gate of Fairhaven. It took an irregular path as it rolled down the walkway. Each time it turned over, the protruding nose and ears would cause the whole thing to jump into the air and change directions. It came to a grinding rest just in front of Ryder and Nazeem’s hiding place.
“They think the statues are real giants lying in wait,” said Nazeem.
Ryder looked down the pathway. Many of the statues were battered beyond recognition. But there were several that could be whole giants.
“If we just wait here, they’ll find us.” Ryder watched the giants pummel the statue.
“Then we must change our plans,” said Nazeem. “There is no value in an ambush that does not come as a surprise.”
Ryder nodded. “Very true. But I have an idea.” He shuffled toward the shadows closer to the gate. “Follow me.”
Nazeem nodded and crouched beside Ryder, sling in hand.
Ryder watched the undead giants as they moved to the next intact statue, circling around behind and preparing to attack.
Just as the big one raised it club, Ryder whispered, “Now.”
He dashed out into the bright moonlight and across the open pathway. The giants beat on the statue, not paying any attention to the two men as they sneaked across and into the darkness on the south side of the path.
Safely on the other side, Ryder ducked behind a fully intact statue and examined the stone creature’s feet.
“What are you doing?” asked Nazeem.
“This statue is loose,” replied Ryder.
“Ah,” said Nazeem, understanding. “And you want to bring it to life.”
Ryder nodded. “Precisely.” He looked to the top. “We’ll need something to leverage it with—a piece of wood or something to shove into the cracks here at the base.”
Nazeem began scavenging the ground around the plinth.
Down the path, the undead giants had finished dismantling their latest stone victim and were moving on to the next—the last intact statue between the giants and the two men.
“There is nothing here,” said Nazeem, turning away from the search. “Only small rocks and dirt.”
“Then we’ll have to do this the hard way,” said Ryder.
Taking a step back, he set his chain in motion. He let the heavy end make two revolutions then hurled it toward the statue. The cuff of the onetime shackles landed on the giant’s outstretched arm, wrapping around once and catching. Ryder gave the chain a hard pull using the statue’s height to get leverage, and the carved stone shifted on its unsteady base.
The undead giants went silent, turning away from the now-ruined statue they had just pummeled.
Nazeem ducked into the shadows, crouching down and loading a stone into his sling. Ryder pulled himself up close to the carved giant, trying to stay out of sight.
The giants came up to the loose statue, circling around as they had with each of the others. The largest of the group came around to the front, dragging its club. The other two swung around, moving behind the statue, right in front of Nazeem.
This close, Ryder could smell the creatures’ rotting flesh. It turned his stomach, and a quick wave of nausea flushed through him. Steeling himself, Ryder fought back the impulse to toss up whatever was in his stomach.
Eying the statue, the big giant lifted its club into the air.
Ryder dashed out of his hiding place and behind the biggest giant. When he ran out of chain, he yanked as hard as he could. The statue shifted and teetered.
Confused, the undead giant shifted his gaze between Ryder and the statue, ready to smash one or the other with his club.
That’s what Ryder had been hoping for, and he leaned back, putting his legs into his pull. The stone made a terrific grinding sound as its cracked base gave way. It slipped, and the statue toppled toward the undead giant. The creature let out a roar and swung its club at the falling carving. The heavy maul collided with the stone, smashing the statue’s head as it fell. Despite the accurate blow of his club, the lumbering undead monster wasn’t fast enough to get out of the way.
The statue smashed into the giant’s chest and left shoulder, the head of the stone spear sinking into its rubbery flesh and shattering as it tore through. The undead giant’s left arm was torn from its body and the flesh made a soft splashing sound as it hit the paving stones and splattered into a viscous puddle. The rock it had been holding in its left hand bounced once, sending up a puff of dry dust, then lay motionless on the ground.
The giant’s torn shoulder wept a runny black fluid. The undead creature stared down at the stump. Then it growled and turned its gaze down on Ryder, standing at its feet.
The statue rolled a bit as it settled into its new place on the ground, making a sound not unlike that of the giants talking. Ryder tried to unhitch his chain as the statue came to a rest, but it was wrapped firmly under the statue’s heavy arm. The undead giant in front of him reeked of rotten flesh, and Ryder breathed through his mouth to avoid gag
ging on the smell. The stench was so foul, he swore he could taste it.
On the opposite side of the plinth, the other two giants let out grinding growls, then shuffled toward Ryder.
The one-armed leader swung its club. The swing was slow but mighty. Ryder ducked, dodging a blow that would have caved in his skull. He could feel the wind behind it ruffle his hair as the head of the weapon slipped past. The giant’s heavy club slammed into the fallen statue, and the stone giant exploded into dozens of sharp fragments—releasing Ryder’s chain.
Ryder stood up and darted to his right, coming at the giant from its armless side. Then he swung his chain at the undead giant. The cuff slapped against the creature’s calf, tearing a large chunk out and sending the rotting flesh flying off into the night. The giant growled and swung its club again. Ryder stumbled, just barely able to get out of the way before the club smashed into the ground right where he had been standing.
Dropping to one knee, Ryder used the ground to steady himself, and he hurled the end of his shackles at the giant. The cuff wrapped around one leg, hitching itself on the links of the chain—not what he had been trying to do.
With the chain wrapped around the giant’s leg, he had little choice but to try to pull the brute off its feet. He leaned back and put his back into it. The leg didn’t budge. The giant was just too strong.
The giant brought his club down toward the kneeling human. Not letting go of his chain, Ryder dropped to his belly and rolled to his right. Dust flew as the creature’s weapon slammed into the dirt.
Getting to his feet, Ryder pulled the chain again. It still didn’t move, and he cursed, wishing he had a sword instead of his rusting, ruined set of shackles.
The other two giants finally made their way over to their leader. They encircled Ryder, surrounding him with their bulk, their clubs raised and ready.
“I could use a little help here,” said Ryder through gritted teeth. He gave the chain one last hard yank. It drew taut, but the giant attached to the other end held firm.
The two new giants swung down on him at the same time. Ryder had nowhere to go, and he didn’t even have time to get out of the way. He flinched back, reacting on instinct.
The two clubs crossed in midair, just missing their target and slamming into the chain instead. Alone, Ryder had not been strong enough to pull the undead giant leader from his feet, but with the help of the other two.…
The chain slammed to the ground under the tremendous blow. Ryder was thrown forward, his chest flying into the crossed clubs, knocking the wind from his lungs and his chain from his hand. On the other end of the chain, the giant’s leg was yanked out from under it, and the creature toppled backward. With a great roar, the beast fell back onto the jagged stone fragments of the shattered statue, and the giant was impaled a dozen times on the pointy shards.
The creature tried to regain its feet, but the heavy stones through its back held it pinned down, and it thrashed against its gruesome imprisonment. The violent movement shifted the broken boulder-sized stones back and forth inside its body, tearing the rancid flesh from the creature’s bones.
The monster struggled for a moment more and let out one last grinding noise. Then its body went limp, and it slipped into death once again.
One moment, Ryder lay atop a pair of clubs, looking up at the two remaining undead giants. The next, he was flying through the air, hurled toward the broken gate of Fairhaven. His arms and legs flailed as he fell through empty space. Then he came crashing down, tumbling as he landed. The back of his skull slammed into the base of another statue just a few steps from the painted wall of the palace.
Ryder saw stars, and his head exploded in pain. His eyes teared up, and he could hardly open them. It hurt too much to focus on anything, and when he tried to stand up, his stomach would pitch and yaw.
Ryder managed to get to his knees, and he placed his forehead in the cool dirt. “Dear Ilmater, make it stop.”
The sound of lumbering footsteps forced Ryder to open his eyes again. Though his head felt as if it might split open, his vision had cleared enough for him to see the giants closing in. Through sheer force of will, he managed to get to his feet.
Unarmed, wounded, nearly blind, and with a pair of undead giants charging down on him, Ryder teetered on uneasy legs. To his left was the entrance to Fairhaven. Giselle and the Broken Spear waited there for the first giant to pass through. If he could only make it to that gate, he’d have a chance.
Ryder turned and started to run toward the opening, but the ground seemed to shift, and his legs felt as if they were made of warm candle wax. His knees buckled, and he had to put his hand down to keep from falling again. Though he was no longer nauseous, he was still in bad shape.
The undead giants reached him in just a few steps, and Ryder made one last attempt to dart away. His feet crossed, and he got tangled. With tremendous effort, he remained upright, but he was once again standing under the glowering glares of two undead giants.
There was a flash of light and suddenly a figure appeared next to Ryder. He shied back, not sure what he was seeing. The fighter from Duhlnarim blinked and did a double take. There, standing beside Ryder was … another Ryder? He rubbed his eyes. Was he really seeing this?
The second Ryder saluted the first then drew a sword from a scabbard on his belt. He ran right up to the two remaining undead giants, waving his sword, and shouted, “Over here, you big louts!”
The giants swung their clubs at him, but the sword-wielding Ryder managed to dodge out of the way.
“That the best you can do?” he taunted. Then he ran around behind the two lumbering monstrosities.
The undead giants turned to face the new Ryder.
“Psst. Ryder,” came a voice from above.
Ryder looked up. He could just make out Curtis’s head sticking out over the edge of the palace wall.
“Ryder,” he called. “Hurry through the gate. The illusion won’t last forever.”
Ryder looked back at the giants and the illusionary version of himself. Guess the skinny man knew more than a few parlor tricks.
Ryder turned and ran unsteadily through the broken gate to Fairhaven. He was attacked the moment his foot crossed the threshold, and he landed on the ground, chest first.
“Hold,” whispered Giselle. “It’s only Ryder.”
A pair of Broken Spear warriors got up off the downed fighter.
“Thanks,” said Ryder as he got back to his feet, “you really go the extra step to make a person feel welcome.”
Giselle stepped right into his face. “So much for the plan.”
Ryder dusted himself off. “We had no choice. They were going to find us, so we improvised.”
“And where’s Nazeem?”
Ryder spun around to look out on to the path leading away from the gate. “Hells. He’s still out there.”
CHAPTER 15
We’ll be riding out a communiqué for Baron Purdun to King Korox of Erlkazar,” explained Captain Beetlestone. “The road will be treacherous, and we expect resistance either from the Awl—”
Liam squirmed a little when he said this.
“—or from another source.”
“Sir?” One of the other soldiers stood up from his chair.
“Yes, Buckwald?” acknowledged Beetlestone. “Another source?”
The captain took a deep breath, looking at each of the soldiers around the table. All of them belonged to the unit that reported directly to Beetlestone. He was going to be leading this mission, and none of the other troops in the baron’s army would accompany them.
He nodded. “There have been an alarming number of scouting reports recently about an incursion of the walking dead in the region surrounding Duhlnarim, particularly in the areas near Dajaan and along Shalane Lake.”
Though no one spoke, Liam could feel the room tense. They would no doubt be headed to Klarsamryn, the king’s stronghold in Llorbauth. The road to the capital ran parallel to Shalane Lake almost the entire w
ay.
“If there are no other questions,” said Beetlestone, “then we will mount up and head out immediately.” The captain placed his hands behind his back, waiting.
The room remained silent.
“Very well, then,” he said. “To the stables.”
The soldiers all stood and filed out of the briefing room. Outside, the sun was just coming up.
The stables had been a late addition to the north end of Zerith Hold. It was attached to a special holding cell used to deal with large groups of prisoners. The dungeon in the Hold wasn’t very large, so long-term criminals were moved to other facilities. Or so Liam was told.
The stable boy brought the soldiers’ horses into the courtyard. The young man approached Liam and handed him the reins of a beautiful brown mare.
“This one’s yours,” said the youth.
Liam took the reins. “Thank you.” He’d never had a horse of his own. And this one was magnificent. Tall and lean, it was a young horse in its prime. It had been well cared for, and its eyes were bright and clear.
“Hello, there,” he said, running his hand along the horse’s mane.
The horse let out a whiny.
“Liam,” shouted Captain Beetlestone.
Liam looked up from the horse to see that all the other soldiers were already mounted and ready to ride.
“Do you know how to ride, son?” asked the captain.
Liam placed his left foot in the stirrup and swung himself up onto the horse’s back in a single fluid motion. Once he was situated, he turned and saluted the captain. “Yes, Captain.”
Beetlestone smirked. “Very good.” He turned his horse and headed toward the gate out of Zerith Hold. “Let’s ride.”
The gate opened, and the soldiers filed out of the courtyard. They fell into line, two abreast, and headed down the cobbled path, the horses’ hooves clanking on the stone.
Liam rode beside a gray-haired man. Though he didn’t appear to be too old, his skin was beginning to wrinkle on his forehead and below his eyes. He had an easy confidence about him that put Liam at ease. The man smiled when he saw Liam looking at him.