The Wandering Inn_Volume 1

by Pirateaba

  Ceria nearly blacked out as the magical backlash struck her. She would have screamed, but the pain was just one more layer in her agony. But the coldness she had channeled struck her as well. The hand she had used for the spell was already numb, but now she could no longer move it.

  Her hand froze. Her skin began to peel away, and turned black in places. She fell to her knees as Yvlon turned.

  Fifteen feet. An eternity of space. That was what separated the two. But the dead were running, and Skinner followed, snatching lives away. Yvlon wavered for a second, and her eyes met Ceria’s.

  Their gazes met for a long second, and then the Captain of the Silver Spears tore herself away. She kept running, and the dead surged after her.

  Most of them. Skinner ignored the half-Elf, but others were drawn to her. She got to her feet, and began to run as a few undead broke off to chase her.

  Down the hallway, to the right. Through the maze of corridors she’d explored. Ceria ran, dodging flailing arms and gaping jaws, knowing there was no escape.

  She tripped and fell down as she reached the place where she had read Skinner’s message. Ceria tried to get up and realized she hadn’t tripped. Her broken leg had stopped moving.

  This was it. She scrambled to get up, pushing at the ground with her one good arm and leg. She leaned against one wall, feeling something important draining from her.

  A shape appeared out of the darkness. A ghoul bounded down the corridor, glowing yellow eyes fixed on Ceria. It had been female, once. It stared at Ceria, grinning with jagged teeth.

  Ceria drew her dagger in her shaking right hand. It was heavy in her hand.

  The ghoul drew closer, feinting, dodging around Ceria to get at her back. She staggered, trying to keep it in front of her.

  Ceria felt hollow. Empty. She was crying. She was sobbing. She wished—

  She wished it hadn’t happened. Any of it. But it was too late now.

  The ghoul slashed at her, drawing blood, dodging back. It was about to go for the kill.

  Tears fell from her eyes, but Ceria blinked them away. She lunged and her dagger caught the ghoul in the cheek. It thrashed, ripping her blade out of her hand and then its teeth were biting, tearing at her ear, her flesh.

  Ceria reached out her hand, but there was no one to take it. She closed her eyes and waited for the end. It came with sharp teeth to take her away from the pain. And then she was gone.

  —-

  The darkness covered the ruins as the orbs of light cast by Ceria’s [Illumination] spell went out one at a time as Skinner passed by. The thing that stole flesh and hunted the living raised its head towards the surface and the dead followed, clustering, hungering. They streamed out of the catacombs, through tunnels and secret passages, running, crawling, towards the surface.

  Above.

  And Skinner began to move upwards. It—he—had harvested enough flesh. Now he would take the rest. He left the ruins, and left behind only death.

  Death.

  And silence.

  1.42

  Erin sat in her inn, staring at the table. She didn’t have anything better to do. Normally she served customers, chatted, or played chess, but she couldn’t today.

  They were all gone. Pawn had left for the city with the other Workers, promising to come back tomorrow.

  He—still couldn’t move right. But the other Workers helped him walk and move and—

  “Something’s different about him.”

  Toren looked up from his table at Erin. He paused, waiting for an instruction and then went back to scrubbing.

  “I mean, he seems different. He acts different. More confident, y’know?”

  Toren carefully picked up a small beetle that had wandered into the building and squished it between his fingers.

  “Ew! Don’t do that! Just get rid of them outside!”

  Obediently, the skeleton walked out the door. Erin tried not to let her stomach remember the sight of the orange insides of the insect oozing—

  “Not many bugs around. But it’s winter. Apparently.”

  It wasn’t very cold. Toren opened the door and walked back in, fingers clean, but Erin barely shivered.

  “Am I near the equator?”

  The skeleton shrugged at her. At least that was something. He generally didn’t respond to questions aimed at him, but he was far more useful than he had been.

  Erin leaned over the table. She had no one else to talk to and at least Toren looked confused when she spoke, which was better than nothing.

  “It was the chess. Pawn was totally on the offense this morning! Did you notice that? He was better—I mean, he’s still learning, but he’s taking chances. I can’t wait to see what happens if he and Rags play a game. It’s like he had a massive confidence boost or something. Do you think it was what happened with Ksmvr?”

  Toren stared at Erin and then picked up the rag and dipped it into the bucket. Erin sighed. She leaned back on her chair, wondering how much it would hurt if she fell over. It would hurt more if Toren dove to catch her like he had twice before. Landing on floorboards? Ouch. Landing on bony skeleton bits? Double ouch.

  Erin closed her eyes, and then her eyes opened wide. She lost her balance and tipped forwards, smacking her face on the table. But she didn’t even process that.

  An alarm. It sounded—no, it felt like a tornado warning siren blasting in her head at full volume. But that wasn’t sound, it was the feeling, a high-pitched whine that told her she was in danger.

  Erin looked around. Toren stared at her, holding the dripping rag in one hand. Erin knocked her chair over as she ran into the kitchen and grabbed the frying pan and a jar of acid. Toren looked up and dropped the rag when he saw Erin was armed.

  “Something’s out there.”

  He immediately dashed into the kitchen and came out with the sword he’d taken from one of the adventurers. Erin knelt next to one of the tables, heart beating out of her chest. The alarm was still going off in her head, and she felt scared.

  Toren was behind her. He lifted the sword as he peered around the inn. He stared at Erin expectantly and pointed to the door.

  “I don’t know where it is. But there’s something. Something bad.”

  It didn’t sound like something was outside. Erin opened the door cautiously and peered out. She gestured, and Toren ran upstairs and returned in a few moments, shaking his head. She looked out her windows, and then threw caution to the wind.

  She ran outside, standing at the top of the hill, staring around at the grasslands. Nothing. She ran around the other side of the inn and stared in the other direction. Then she had Toren boost her up and stared from the top of the roof.

  After a while Erin jumped down and Toren collapsed as he tried to catch her.

  “Ow! Get out of the way next time!”

  He helped her up and Erin stared around the empty grasslands. Nothing. The sun was still lowering in the sky, and it wasn’t even night yet. She couldn’t see anything. But she had felt it, with a certainty that didn’t go away.

  “What was that, then?”

  For ten more minutes Erin walked around, listening hard, eyes scanning the horizon. But she couldn’t see anything. And being out in the open was starting to bother her more than anything else.

  Perhaps—perhaps it was a false alarm? Or whatever was happening was far away. Like…

  “Maybe someone dropped a nuke? Or a magical nuke?”

  Erin shook her head as Toren stared at her. No good.

  “It might be nothing. Just—keep an eye out, okay?”

  He nodded. Erin sighed and shook her head. She went back into her inn. But she kept the frying pan, the jar of acid, and one of the kitchen knives on the table.

  Just in case.

  —-

  The dead poured out of the ruins, howling. They ran through the grass, the evening sun at their backs. They ran towards the city, arms outstretched, eyes glowing as they hunted for the living. To add them to their ranks.

&nb
sp; The small shantytown that had sprung up around the ruins was gone. Broken timber and dead bodies were all that remained of the adventurers and merchants that had lived there. They had been cut down trying to flee in the first few minutes of the attack.

  So many dead. Hundreds, all moving as one. This wasn’t just a horde of random undead monsters that had come together, or even a group under control of a Lich or Crypt Lord. This was an invasion, led by a single creature.

  The dead ran towards Liscor even as the gates began to close. But they halted as the guards manning the gates suddenly threw down their weapons and ran, screaming. Something had touched them. Something invisible.

  Skinner’s eyes shifted away from the gates and Rags ducked down and pulled the Goblin next to her into the grass. She and her followers flattened themselves into the earth, making themselves as small as possible.

  Fear touched them, making their hearts pound wildly. It was a familiar thing. The Goblins peeked out of the grass while Rags whisper-shouted insults at them and made them keep their heads down.

  Only after a few minutes did they dare look again. Far below, the creature known as Skinner had focused its attention back on the city. The undead were already pouring through the gates, and they could hear screaming even from this distance.

  From their hilltop the group of armed Goblins watched the carnage. Rags touched the sheathed short sword at her side, but only to make sure it was there. She had no intention of moving from this spot.

  Skinner was moving slowly. He had to pull himself through the grass, while even the Crypt Lords outpaced him. But he was the most dangerous thing down there by far, Rags was sure.

  She saw the twisted, grotesque thing made of dead flesh twist its head towards her again and immediately crouched to hide in the grass. The Goblins around her shivered and held their weapons more firmly. Rags shook her head as she watched Skinner slowly drag himself towards the city.

  It was intelligent. And it was deadly. She knew it in her bones. But more deadly than the city full of Drakes and Gnolls? She sat on the hill and watched as death poured into Liscor. Watching. Waiting.

  Calculating.

  After a few minutes, her belly rumbled.

  —-

  “Hm. Rags should be here by now.”

  Erin checked the position of the sun in the sky, shading her eyes as Toren laid out plates and utensils. Well, one utensil to be specific. All Goblins needed was a fork, and that was only because Erin insisted.

  She’d cooked a fine meal of pasta and sausage, or perhaps it was sausage and pasta. Goblins liked meat, so she’d made the pot mostly that, with some spiral noodles thrown in just to add color.

  Erin hesitated. The food was warm, but she didn’t want to eat alone—or with Toren as the case may be. She could wait. Besides, Rags and her crew never missed a meal. They were probably running from Rock Crabs, or attacking helpless travelers. She should really talk to them about that.

  Still. Erin glanced towards the window. It would be night in an hour or less. And the Goblins quite sensibly hated travelling at night.

  “Do you think she forgot?”

  Toren shrugged. He raised his head and stared in the direction of Liscor. He felt…something. A voice? A calling. But it was faint. He shrugged and continued setting the table. But Erin’s earlier warning combined with this decided the skeleton. She was right.

  Something was out there.

  —-

  “Close the gates!”

  The streets of Liscor were filled with the dead. Civilians screamed and fled or barricaded themselves in their homes as zombies, skeletons and other lurching forms ran through the streets. But they ran up against a wall of blades before they made it far down the streets.

  The city Watch stood shoulder-to-shoulder, firing arrows into the crowd while armed Gnolls and Drakes held the front ranks back. The Captain of the Watch, a tall Drake named Zevara, shouted up towards the walls as she cut down another zombie.

  “Where the hell are the other guardsmen? Why aren’t those gates closing?”

  She bellowed as she chopped down on a skeleton’s arm, severing the bones. The guardsmen in front of her closed ranks and threw the undead back. A Gnoll ran towards Zevara and she turned towards him.

  “Tkrn. What’s happening out there?”

  He grinned, the fur on his chest matted with blood and gore.

  “Fighting, Captain. We’ve closed off the streets like you said. That’s stopping them, but there are larger creatures out there.”

  “Crypt Lords. They’re extremely dangerous. Shoot them down if you can. But what about the Southern gates? If they’ve fallen—”

  Tkrn shook his head and Zevara shielded her face as bits of flesh flew everywhere.

  “Sorry Captain. The Southern Gates are closed and we’ve got archers shooting down any undead that try to climb up. But all our guards on the north walls have fled!”

  “That doesn’t make sense. I saw those gates closing! What could have…?”

  A zombie shoved aside a Drake and lunged for Zevara, jaw gaping wide. She stepped back and Tkrn’s hand axe buried itself in his exposed brain.

  “Close ranks!”

  Zevara’s voice cracked like a whip and the guardsmen around her flinched. She pointed and more warriors ran forwards to fill in the weak spot in the line. Not all of the Watch was fighting. Zevara had kept several groups back, spread around the city to fill in weak spots.

  Now she raised her voice as more undead ran down the streets and hit the ranks of armed warriors hard.

  “Are you human cowards or guardsmen? Put your tails into it!”

  The Drakes and Gnolls heard her and answered with a roar. They pushed the undead back several feet and Zevara turned back to Tkrn as he wiped the hand axe on his fur.

  “What else?”

  He grinned at her, showing his teeth.

  “The adventurers are asking what they can do. They’re fighting with our people—but poorly. There aren’t many good teams around.”

  “Have them pick off any stragglers that break through. We’ll hold the line here and push forwards. Now, where’s Relc?”

  “He’s holding them off down Tessaract Street.”

  Zevara grunted.

  “Good. They won’t get through that way, then. But this is insane.”

  She pointed to the massive gates, visible from where she and Tkrn stood.

  “We shouldn’t be fighting in the streets! If we can get close to those gates and close them these undead will die outside the city. Why the hell are they still open?”

  Tkrn growled.

  “Many of those large things are standing next to the entrance. We cannot kill them and more keep coming.”

  “Crypt Lords standing guard? That’s…”

  Zevara trailed off. She glanced at the undead and suddenly a cold bit of fear wormed its way into her heart. She had a thought.

  “The Necromancer?”

  Tkrn raised his axe.

  “I saw him in the city earlier today. I could track and kill him—”

  “Not that idiot. I mean the Necromancer.”

  “Oh.”

  Tkrn looked worried. Zevara shook her head.

  “If it was him, we’d be dead already. There aren’t any giants, or wights or ghosts or any of the other horrors he brings. No—this is something else.”

  She pointed down the street.

  “This area is secure. I’ve got civilians holding bows and a few mages are catching any Crypt Lords they see. You go and organize the adventurers. Tell Relc I want to see him, and find Olesm! We need his Skills!”

  “No one has seen him this day. They saw him leaving the city, but—”

  “If he’s here, find him! I’ve got to go. The east streets need help.”

  Tkrn nodded and loped off. Zevara exchanged a few curt words with a large Drake sergeant and ran through the streets.

  The undead had caught the city by surprise, but the city militia wasn’t like a human one. No
r were the citizens. The undead had overrun the first few streets, but their momentum had halted once the Watch and groups of combat-capable citizens had formed barricades and halted their advance.

  The problem was that the undead weren’t sticking to the streets. They went through houses, over rooftops—attacking the beleaguered defenders from behind. They were hunted down, but it added another layer of complexity to Zevara’s nightmare.

  And the eastern streets were furthest from the guardsmen’s barracks. They needed reinforcements or else—

  Zevara ran out of the alleyway just in time to see a Crypt Lord smash her way into a group of guardsmen and civlians, sending them flying. The bloated Drake’s corpse was immediately attacked from all sides and pushed back by a pillar of stone, but while everyone was concentrated on her, a pack of zombies ran past the line and towards the civilian archers.

  The fifteen or so Drakes and Gnolls froze up in fear with one exception. Krshia calmly took down one zombie, shooting an arrow through its eye. She drew a wickedly long dagger and grabbed a second zombie while Zevara crashed onto two more.

  The last zombie ran past the two and opened up a male Drake’s scales with a devastating strike. He had a piece of sword buried in his hand, making all of his wild swings deadly.

  The Drake fell down, screaming, and his companion backed away in horror. Selys raised her bow, but the zombie split it in two with a single blow. She screamed for help, but the corpse of the Gnoll ran at her, mouth opened wide to bite.

  “Begone, pest.”

  Selys screamed in horror as the zombie’s neck suddenly twisted around. The undead Gnoll collapsed to the ground, twitching.

  “Just so we’re clear: I didn’t raise them.”

  Pisces appeared out of the air next to Selys and Zevara, hands glowing with purple energy. Selys gaped at him, scales nearly white.

  “You!”

  “Ah. Hello to you, receptionist. Don’t wait to thank me for saving your life.”