by Logan Petty
Vaskar shook his head firmly. “No, I must do this alone.”
Sawain glanced at the back of his drake’s head. He understood that sentiment all too well. After a moment in thought, he spoke again.
“I’ll trust you then. Just remember, we are all in this together. Rely on us to accomplish the goals you set before us.”
Vaskar glanced at Sawain, a smile on his face. “You certainly sound like more of a team player now than you did when we first met a few days ago. It’s as if something has changed in you.”
Sawain blushed, shrugging. “I don’t know what you mean.” His eyes flickered to Mari for a moment. “All I’m saying is you don’t have to do this alone. We are here to shoulder your burden.”
“Worry not, friend,” Vaskar assured. “You will have plenty enough a burden of your own to shoulder within the walls of Jordborg.”
The sun reached its zenith and began to descend toward the west as the small army marched onward. Vaskar raised a hand signaling a stop. The mass of soldiers slowed to a halt as he pointed out an overgrown path hidden in a nearby elm grove.
“This is where our team will part from the rest of our allies. We must move fast, for the enemy will see Ylsgrim coming by now. The city’s lower plain is just beyond that ridge there.” He pointed to the cliffs that overlooked the city of Jordborg. “Captain Jatharr will take over the operation of this army. It will be up to you to keep the outside forces busy long enough while we get inside and set our plans in motion.”
Jatharr nodded, a grim expression on his face. “Leave it to me. These walking corpses won’t know what hit them.”
Sawain shouted up to Ylsgrin, who hovered far above him, “Master Ylsgrin, your observations will be disrupted if we die today. Please help us clear this abomination from our land!”
Ylsgrin raised a claw to his ear slot, tilting his glittering head. “What’s that, lad? Can’t hear you over all the clamoring over the hilltop. The stench of the dead is rather unpleasant. I think I will go and dispose of them. Tag along if you must.”
A blast of wind rushed over the company’s heads as Ylsgrin launched himself forward. Jatharr adjusted his position as Sawain and the others in the inside party dismounted their animals and gathered together. Sawain patted Eldingbál’s head. “Take care of Jatharr for me. He can get a bit reckless.”
The captain clicked his tongue a few times as he moved to the front of the army. “Worry about yerself, lad. I’d much rather be out here with the walking dead than playing politician with the talking dead.”
Vaskar motioned for his team to follow as he delved into the underbrush. Sawain, Mari, Timbrell, Naralei, Banthan, Axel, Kyra, Sydarion, and Rognul followed him in. A few minutes of walking led them into a clearing in the trees. A large peat bog sprawled out into a valley below. The stench of decay assaulted their senses. Sawain nearly lost his meal to the bog upon entering. Along the edges of the water, where the land remained dry enough to set foot upon, roughly two dozen tents sat, and traces of campfires still smouldered. Vaskar stopped the party.
“Those tents belong to Jordborg forces,” he whispered. “Xifrieg must have posted them here. He’s been digging deep.”
Sawain nudged Vaskar. “Xifrieg? Are you leaving out more details?”
Vaskar waved him off. “Not now. We have to get to that tunnel beyond the tents.” He pointed to a gated hole tucked, nearly invisible, into the side of a far hill. “And we need to move fast. We’ll just have to cut our way through. The fighting has likely begun already.”
A flurry of dead leaves kicked up as the prince dashed into the open, drawing his blade. The others quickly drew their weapons and followed suit. They ran to the tents, shouting battle cries and bracing for retaliation.
None came.
“Umm, Vaskar?” Banthan began as he kicked over a dry pot that sat against a circle of stones. “Not to question your tactics, but should we really be charging headlong into such overwhelming odds?”
Sawain kicked a stick at the elf. “Shut up, Banth.”
Axel sheathed his hammer, disappointment etched across his face. “I don’t understand. These tents are . . . empty. But they look as if they were occupied this very morning. Perhaps there was an attack already?”
Vaskar edged closer to the bog, peering into its murky depths.
Sawain followed his gaze. A foot or so below the grimy surface, a few dozen gleaming metal clad corpses hovered. He frowned. “Looks like someone else knew about this place. You think the mission is compromised?”
Vaskar looked toward the tunnel, picking up his stride as he sheathed his blade. “If it is, we have no choice but to press on and hope for the best. If there is a double agent among us, perhaps we can find him first.”
Mari and Timbrell emerged from one of the tents carrying armfuls of clothing. Timbrell piped up joyously.
“Look friends! A gift from lady luck! These soldiers have left plenty of their belongings behind for us! We could use these to disguise ourselves.”
Sawain took a tunic Mari offered to him and slid it on over his armor. It belonged to a rather large man, which allowed it to drape over his gear comfortably. He smiled as he fitted a hood over his head.
“Good thinking, Mari, Timbrell. Wouldn’t hurt for us to look like locals. Everyone grab a tunic and trousers. If they’re too big, make a belt.”
Vaskar halted, glaring back hesitantly. “We do not have time for this!”
Kyra trotted up to the prince, offering him a bundle with a smile. “No offence, your majesty, but do you really think it wise to parade around the streets of Jordborg as yourself when they’re likely hunting that pretty head of yours?”
Vaskar fumbled with the bundle as he stammered, “O-ho, well, when you put it like that. Pretty, huh? I guess disguises aren’t a bad idea.”
Rognul chuckled as he climbed into an oversized set of wizard’s robes, draping the massive hood over his furry face. “Heh heh, careful, Kyra. You’ll inflate his majesty’s ego so much it won’t fit into a disguise. Ooh, look! A face mask!”
Vaskar shot Rognul a dirty look as the gnoll wrapped a captain’s sash around his face until only his eyes were visible. Within minutes, the raiding party transformed into an unassuming group of natives as they slipped into the horrible smelling tunnel.
To Sawain’s discomfort, the gate was unlocked and wide open. He placed a hand on Vaskar’s shoulder, stopping him momentarily. “We’d better watch our step. If there is someone one step ahead of us, he’s likely to set traps.”
Vaskar nodded as he pulled a pilfered torch from his belt. Once lit, the fire cast flickering waves of light about the place. Sawain unconsciously held his breath as they ventured into the dark unknown.
. . .
Jatharr looked down from the cliffs of Jordborg at the writhing mass of bodies below. The sea of undead churned as it rushed forward toward his army that held the cliffs. The few centaur skilled in magic from Terina’s forced unleashed bolts of fire upon the oncoming wave. Small explosions engulfed several enemies, but the flames extinguished beneath the crushing force of the legions. Hundreds of burning arrows rained down from the cliffs, peppering the grey tsunami. It reminded Jatharr of the rain that beat against the tides during a sea storm. He wondered just how long they could last against a multitude of this size.
A large shadow darted over his head and across the battlefield. It shrank as Ylsgrin flew lower. Hundreds of arrows bounced off of his draconic armor as he opened his jaws wide. Jathar squinted as a brilliant white flame spewed from the dragon’s maw, setting the plain ablaze with a wall of fire that cut the enemy forces in halves. No amount of stampeding zombies could quell this inferno. Jatharr smiled as his hope rekindled. He raised his short sword into the air as the first wave of undead breached the cliffs.
“Now’s yer chance to shine! For Swerbrekker! For Hammerhold!”
The earth shook as the Swerbrekker’s army answered the call, “FOR HAMMERHOLD!”
Chaos ensued
as the infantry rushed forward to protect the archers and mages. Swords clashed and shields shattered as the two forces collided. Jatharr hacked and slashed like a fiend, felling dozens of foes in the first few minutes of combat. Flashes of fire, lightning, and ice tore through the oncoming horde as the drakes joined in the fray on the cliffs. Jatharr glanced beyond this battle to the one below.
Several dark temples radiated necrotic energy that tore at Ylsgrin’s scales. He roared in pain as he dove upon the first temple. It shuddered from the impact as he thrashed about. Loud crackling issued forth, as if a mountain had suddenly exploded. A shockwave of dust and debris ripped outward from where the tower once stood. Within a short time, Ylsgrin’s sheer mass shattered the building’s very foundations. The army cheered as the rippling waves of death halted momentarily, confusing the hordes and giving them an advantage. Jatharr joined in the jubilation by cutting down six more zombies.
“Stay focused! They aren’t dead yet! We must fight on til the dragon finishes those temples.”
Binze trotted up to Jatharr, running a spear through a shambling foe. “Surely with Ylsgrin’s might, we will have this blight mopped up in no time. I mean, look at how easily he crushed that temple! It took us all day to tear an unfinished one down.”
The Grey King’s forces suddenly regained their composure as more waves of dark energy poured over the battlefield from the remaining temples. Jatharr gripped his blade and continued slashing through his newly risen foes.
“That may be so, but we must still survive until he can bring the rest down.”
The captain looked up from his slaughter as the evening sky darkened. A strange black cloud billowed outward from behind the city walls. Jatharr squinted as the cloud shifted against the wind. His heart skipped a beat.
“Ylsgrin’s in trouble! The enemy has wings, too!”
Binze looked up in time to see the great dragon disappear into the midst of the quick moving cloud. His roars of anguish erupted from within as bolts of bright fire pierced the strange mass, only to have it close itself up again quickly.
“What is that? Vampyr?”
Jatharr gazed at the gargantuan mass as more flames leapt out of it, seeming to do nothing to its size. He felt his hopes dwindle again.
“Whatever it is, if it can kill a dragon . . . . Turin help us.”
Chapter 9:
Torchlight flickered against the cobblestone vault as Vaskar led his team through the putrid depths leading to Jordborg. Mari clung to Sawain’s arm, shuddering noticeably. He was not sure if Mari or Timbrell did the shaking. Axel rested his hand against a throwing hammer on his belt. Kyra walked near the back, where Sawain could feel her glare burning into the back of his head. He worried that the mage could actually singe him with her eyes. Sydarion and Naralei scanned the area ahead for traps while Banthan held his forearm to his face, squinting miserably. Rognur loped alongside Vaskar, scanning his surroundings in grim silence. The lack of noise in this tight tunnel made the air more suffocating than before. Time became impossible to measure as the tunnel stretched ever onward, littered with piles of refuse and trash for the team to carefully step over, making the walk even longer.
A groan from Banthan echoed off the stone, bouncing into the darkness beyond. “Does this tunnel ever end? We’ve been walking for ages!”
“Keep your voice down,” Naralei whispered sharply, smacking him in the back of the head. “It’s only been an hour.”
“How do you know that?” Banthan whispered, rubbing the back of his head. “Not like there are any glowshrooms growing down here.”
Vaskar stopped suddenly, causing the rest of the team to bump into each other. He lifted his torch, shining its light upon a wall of boards that blocked the way.
Rognur scratched his scalp. “Looks like they sealed off the entrance. I mean, sort of. We should be able to get through here no problem.”
Vaskar gripped his sword with his free hand. “So should our friend who killed that entire unit of trained soldiers. So why are these boards still intact?”
Axel growled, glancing over his shoulder. “Could be they’ve slipped behind us. Odd we haven’t run into any traps.”
“Sawain, Banthan, Axel. Fall to the back,” Vaskar whispered as he drew his sword. “Watch our flank. Rog, help me with these planks.”
The sound of cracking wood shattered the tense silence as Vaskar wedged his blade between the planks, pushing against the hilt. Rognur hooked his axe heads against the back of the boards and heaved until the nails released their hold. The gnoll stuck his head through the gap a moment, and straightened up, nodding to Vaskar. “Looks all clear, boss. No skimmers in the pond.”
Naralei raised an eyebrow. “Skimmers in the pond?”
“You know, the pond. The cistern where they drop the droppings,” Rognur chuckled.
“And the skimmers?”
A moment of silence permeated the tunnel as Rognur glanced at his leader. Vaskar grunted as he tugged at another board.
“Skimmers are a sort of natural sanitation system for Jordborg’s undercity. They keep the tunnels clear of any refuse, living or dead. Hopefully you won’t have to meet them today.”
Mari shuddered again, more violently this time. Sawain felt the same tremor run up his spine. He hoped to avoid these skimmers as well. Soon, the wall of planks gave out against the axes and blade that wrenched them away from the walls they guarded. Vaskar stepped through, the wet sound of liquid splashed around his feet as he shined a light into the cistern.
“Watch your step. Follow right behind me in a line. The walkway around the pond is narrow, and trust me, you don’t want to go for a swim in there.”
Banthan gagged as he fell in line with everyone else. “Augh, I thought the tunnel was bad. If this place is out of service, why does it still smell so foul?”
Rognur sloshed happily forward in front of Banthan, flinging brown water in his wake. He laughed at the elf’s lack of fortitude.
“Just because it’s out of service doesn’t mean it’s not used still. Lots of smugglers and undercity dwellers use these tunnels on a daily basis. I’m guessing traffic is increasing more as people try to flee the Grey King’s minions above ground.”
“That makes sense,” Naralei began as she followed Mari and Sawain, “but why don’t they police the tunnels better? It’s not like the dead have to concern themselves with smell or cleanliness.”
“Same reason we try to avoid using the tunnels, but more so. Skimmers are drawn to rot. Dead people tend to be covered in rot. They’re basically a walking smorgasbord for the creepy crawlers.”
Vaskar stopped at an iron ladder that clung to the side of the cistern. “Alright, cut the chatter, and remember, once we are topside, you follow my lead without question, and no matter who we run into up there, do not break your cover.”
He waited a moment for everyone’s acknowledgements before tossing his torch into the bile waters at his feet. Darkness flooded the chamber as he climbed the prongs of the ladder, followed closely by each member of his raiding party. A loud buzzing filled the corridors leading out of the cistern as Vaskar reached the top. Rognul peered hard into the darkness as he nudged the prince.
“Boss! Skimmers incoming!”
Vaskar snarled as he pressed an ear to the metal cover above his head. “I hear them. Keep it down!”
After a moment of listening, Vaskar shoved hard against the metal grate, but it did not budge. “It’s stuck. Cover our backs. Watch the walls,” he shouted as he continued to shove.
Sawain squinted into the darkness below and saw a swirling dark mass pour into the chamber, spreading itself across the water. Kyra held a glowing palm out, pointed toward the water below. She muttered an incantation under her breath as a bolt of electricity leapt from her fingertips, striking the water’s surface and spreading outward, lighting up the chamber and the creatures that skimmed across the surface. Sawain could clearly see the assailants in that moment.
The room filled with
hundreds of giant insects that were roughly a square foot in size each. Six spindly legs glided across the water’s surface, hoisting a locust-like body with massive buzzing wings that propelled the bugs forward. Their heads boasted two large compounded eyes and a needle-like mandible that dripped with some sort of liquid. As Kyra’s bolt spread across the water, scores of the slower insects combusted, dropping into the charged depths of the cistern. More skimmers escaped a charred end by climbing up the walls, rushing toward the source of the lightning.
Sydarion hooked a foot around a rung and leaned outward, nocking an arrow and pulling back on the string. It glowed like an ember for a moment, then burst into flame as he launched it downward. The arrow skidded against the stone, leaving a trail of fire that halted the skimmers to the right side. Banthan and Naralei hacked away with their swords at the bugs who got too close while Sawain pushed forward to help Vaskar shove open the grate.
The two warriors braced against the ladder, sharing the same rung. Sawain placed his hands against the metal.
“On three, give it all you’ve got. One. Two. THREE!”
The grate shifted, dropping a layer of grime on everyone's heads as the swarm of giant insects closed in against the barrage of arrows and bolts. Kyra gasped as one of the insects broke through, jabbing her leg with its needle-like appendage. Sydarion grabbed her as she slipped from her perch.
“Kyra’s hit!”
Vaskar and Sawain strained with all their might as the metal plate rose from its resting place. They shoved it aside, allowing fresh air and sunlight to fill the chamber. The skimmers pulled away from the light, keeping to the shadows. The party quickly climbed up to the street above, one after the next, into an alleyway tucked behind a group of large buildings. Vaskar and Sawain shoved the grate with their heels, forcing it slowly back into position after the last member of the team made it up.
A choked scream jolted Sawain’s attention back to Kyra. She gripped Sydarion’s arm in anguish as he pulled her robe up past her knee. An oozing wound spread from the puncture wound on her left calf. A strange, yellowish liquid dripped down her leg, corroding the flesh it touched. Sydarion tried to clean it away with a waterskin, but the yellowish bile continued to seep out of her pores. Tears ran down her face as she formed words through gritted teeth.