Keep on the Borderlands

by Ru Emerson - (ebook by Flandrel; Undead)

  “Gods,” Eddis whispered and shook her head to clear it. “M’Whan, get him out of the middle of this. Blor—?”

  But Blorys had already moved off to help his brother and two spearmen take down another of the attackers. Eddis ran to aid three of the Keep men who’d ridden out that day. They were backing nervously away from a massive brute who bled from a dozen or more shallow cuts, their spears trailing in the dirt.

  “Don’t run!” she shouted. “You’ll give him a better chance to cut you down. Stay there, keep those spears at the ready!”

  The creature turned to face her as she ran in, yelling wildly, her sword swinging. Two more cuts—a deep one across the back of its sword hand, another down the side of its face, and the hobgoblin backed away and bounded forward and took a vicious swipe at her head. Eddis’ heels caught on one of the fallen men, and she went down. The brute loomed over her, teeth bared in a horrid grin, sword raised to pin her to the ground. She rolled, coming up onto her knees, staggering to her feet. Furtive movement caught her eye. Kadymus, a thick-bladed dagger in each hand, was sneaking up on the creature, and Flerys came flying out of the dark, spear ready to thrust. The brief distraction cost Eddis, but a quick jump back kept the hobgoblin’s sword from more than scratching her arm.

  With a yell of fury, Flerys jabbed her spear at the creature’s back but lost her balance as the point bounced off armor. The little thief brought one dagger down, the other up, burying one blade in the hobgoblin’s sword-arm, the other in its neck.

  It bellowed and turned to strike. Eddis’ sword bit deep across the backs of its legs, felling it, and Kadymus leaped to slam two more daggers deep in its neck. It shuddered and went limp. Flerys edged around it and came running, dinging fiercely as the swordswoman stroked her hair. Eddis’ eyes moved, taking in their surroundings. No fighting close by, and the monsters still standing were surrounded.

  “Are you all right?” she asked the girl finally.

  A sharp nod.

  “Sure?”

  The thin body trembled against hers. Afraid, Eddis thought, but a moment later, Flerys burst into tears.

  “Thought it killed Eddis,” she whispered tearfully. “Don’t want filthy monsters killing Eddis.”

  The fighting was over as suddenly as it had begun. The last hobgoblin tried to flee, but Hebold ran after it and cut it down with the double-bladed axe he’d picked up in the dungeons.

  Eddis surveyed the damage. Four dead hobgoblins—five now, as spearmen dispatched the last of the wounded. Men seemed to be everywhere, fallen, bloody, moaning. Some weren’t moving.

  “What damage?” Eddis asked generally.

  Mead looked up from the armsman he was tending. “At least ten wounded. Two horses dead, that I know for certain. Four men dead.”

  “And all those filthy hobgoblins,” Hebold announced. He was bloody, filthy, and grinning hugely.

  “Good,” Eddis told him. “Why don’t you get a couple of the men to help you drag them away from camp, so the horses can start settling down.”

  To her surprise, he did what she asked without comment. M’Baddah—over there, with M’Whan; Blorys moving along the far side of the road. No sign of Jerdren, and she couldn’t recall the last time she’d seen him. Hard to tell who was where, with only two flickering lanterns out here.

  “Jers, where are you?” she called out. “Someone get a couple more lanterns out here, and any of you who aren’t hurt, set a guard here, on the camp and on the horses, so we don’t get caught like that again!”

  “Here he is!” Blorys called. “I think he’s—no, he’s breathing, and that’s not his blood.”

  Eddis made her way past fallen and shocked-looking men, and knelt to feel Jerdren’s throat for pulse. The man groaned faintly.

  “Got the wind knocked out of him,” Eddis said.

  Another groan, and Jerdren fought his way to sitting, gingerly cradling his head in his hands.

  “Gods, what a headache,” he mumbled. “Brute got the spear away from one of the men and cracked me across the skull with it.”

  Blorys gripped his shoulder and fetched a quiet sigh of relief.

  “What’s the damage?” the older man asked after a moment. Eddis told him. “That’s not so good, is it?”

  “It could have been a lot worse,” she assured him. “All those inexperienced Keep men, all those horses, and a surprise attack. Except after last night, we should have been expecting it.”

  Jerdren shrugged, then winced and clutched his brow. “Know what, Eddis? I owe you an apology. Think you’re right—they know where we are, all right. Tells me that we take on this final cave, one last battle, and ride away.”

  Blorys stared at him. “You’re giving up? That must have been some crack to the head, Brother.”

  Jerdren managed a faint grin. “Didn’t say that. Just doesn’t seem sense to sit here and wait for ’em to finish us off a few at a time. There’s no reason why we couldn’t come back later—next spring, say—and finish the job.”

  “Sounds like a plan to me,” Eddis said and got back to her feet.

  Someone needs to keep an eye on things here, she thought. With M’Baddah and Jerdren both down, that meant her. “One last battle,” she whispered. Jerdren’s words sounded like an ill omen, all at once.

  Cleanup took hours, and it was nearly dawn when Eddis settled down close to the fire and dosed her eyes. Sleep evaded her. Four dead horses, two badly injured, another two simply gone. Most of the dead men were those who’d ridden out from the Keep to bring them supplies. Panev had healed the worst injuries, Mead using potions to close cuts and a spell to soothe and quiet the horses.

  Too much blood, she thought wearily. The sight and smell of it sickened her, all at once, and Jerdren’s words still rang in her mind. One last battle. They’d lost so many men already. If this temple was as dire as Panev thought, how many of them would survive?

  Morning came with a chill wind, and a ruddy glare filled what could be seen of the eastern sky. Eddis woke to the jingle of harnesses and the thud of restless horses stamping their feet. The party returning to the Keep was ready to ride out. Anxious, she thought, and who could blame them? All around her, the armsmen were quietly stowing their belongings and readying their weapons. Blorys, seeing her sit up, brought her a steaming mug and a bowl of porridge, and someone else doused the fire. Eddis managed a smile as she took the food and drink. Blorys looked distracted and worried, but he said nothing while she ate.

  “What’s happening? Is Jerdren all right?” she asked finally.

  He shrugged “We buried the dead men a little while ago. Mead gave Jers something for the headache last night, and he was fine after that He’s just… well, you know Jers.” He shook himself and smiled warmth kindling his eyes. “Take care today, Eddis.”

  “I will.” She hesitated, then took both his hands in hers. “If you swear to do the same.”

  “As best I can. Jers may—”

  “No,” she said quietly. “Swear you’ll take care of yourself.” Silence. “Blor, he won’t thank you for getting killed trying to protect him.”

  He sighed quietly. “I know. It’s just—” He gripped her fingers, then brought one hand up to brush against his lips. “I swear, Eddis.”

  Moments later, Panev called them all together. “I have told you a little of the dangers that may await us. Even I cannot be sure what we face, if we enter a temple of evil. Listen to your leaders—and to me—and you may well survive this day. You men who return to the Keep—my blessings and the strength of the gods guide you safely home. You did not expect to battle monsters, and yet you did, and you live to tell the tale.”

  He was silent as the Keep men mounted and rode out, then turned to look over the armed company surrounding him. “Kneel, all of you,” he said. “This blessing may give you courage when you most need it.”

  He spoke quietly, and even Eddis—who was nearest—heard little of what he said, but she felt calm wash through her, and a sense of right
ness.

  Hebold came back through the trees as Panev was finishing his prayer. His lips twisted, and he turned away. Dolt, Eddis thought. I don’t believe in the priest’s gods or his religion either, but I’m not fool enough to spurn them. Jerdren got to his feet and strode out of the camp, across the road, and into the brush. The others followed.

  They passed the kobolds’ lair, halted abruptly as harsh, wild laughter echoed all around them. Willow and M’Baddah ran that way, slipping from tree to tree, out of sight moments only, before they came walking back. Eddis had nocked an arrow to her string, but her lieutenant’s familiar hand sign told her there was no threat.

  Willow beckoned them close and said, “We saw hobgoblins going from the orc caves to their own hold, carrying orc and kobold dead.”

  Eddis’ nose wrinkled. “Filling the larder, no doubt. Not our business, if that’s all.”

  They were on their way moments later and made the westernmost end of the ravine without further incident.

  They paused for breath and to ready their weapons. Eddis gave Flerys a reassuring smile. The child waggled her spear and made M’Baddah’s sign for luck, though Eddis thought the child looked anxious. When they went on, Panev led, Eddis, Willow, and M’Baddah close behind him with their bows ready. Hebold was on their heels, battle-axe in one hand and the hobgoblin dub he’d picked up the night before in the other.

  The few trees on the heights here looked frost-burned, blackened leaves hanging lifeless, the trunks thin and twisted. The air was musty and still.

  “Wait,” Panev ordered quietly and clambered up a few paces to survey the heights before them. He nodded sharply and gestured for them to come on.

  Eddis stared as she came up. There was a true path here, edged in broken stone and worn down into the rock itself. How can that be? she wondered. There’s no trace of a path leading to this place! Magic, she thought unhappily. Her feet tingled as she reluctantly stepped down into the trail.

  Panev beckoned Mead to his side, and the two led through a copse of bloated trees and twisting vines. The musty smell increased. Free of the close-growing trees, Eddis could see a cave looming just above them. The odor was much stronger here, borne on chill air that seemed to flow down from the entrance and wrap around them.

  The priest nodded, as if satisfied on some count. “Quickly,” he hissed. Mace in one hand, a slender gray wand in the other, he strode through the wide opening and vanished into darkness.

  It was deadly quiet in here. What Eddis could see was hard to distinguish—murky, as though the air itself were dark. A few lamps were set in niches, enough she could make out a vast, vaulting roof, veins of black and red stone writhing across the dull surface of the rock from which a wide, long corridor had been hewn. The floor was smooth and clear and faded into gloom, north and south.

  Panev’s lips and hands moved. “As I feared. It is a temple, a cult to worship chaos and death, served by the undead. There are many of the undead both ways,” he said quietly. “A few living, perhaps priests and some guards, but these are few in number. The greater foe in number and evil is that way, which tells me that the priests—and the chief priest—are there.” He pointed north. “None of you,” he added as he gazed around the company, “must touch anything, unless I say it is safe!”

  Jerdren nodded. “Pay heed to what he says. We’ll go south first. Make sure there’s none left to attack our rear once we go after these priests.”

  Panev drew forth a small, sun-shaped pin and pressed it reverently to his lips before fastening it to his surcoat.

  The long south passage took a bend to the right, and just past the bend, the wide corridor split, both passages leading to poorly lit rooms. What they could see of either was empty: no guards, no furniture or furnishings.

  Panev indicated the right passage with his wand and quietly said, “There are guards. Undead guards. Be warned.”

  To the left, the passage was blocked by a huge fall of stones. Blocked deliberately, Eddis thought, and fought a shiver. Gods, what was so dire that priests who could raise the dead would fear it?

  Panev hesitated just short of the left opening to shift his grip on the wand, turned the corner, and strode rapidly into a room lit by guttering torches. Eddis was aware of vast space and a dais at the far end: a throne that glinted red in the dim light. Flerys caught hold of her arm and pointed. Along the walls on either side of the dais, statues of foot soldiers stood or sprawled. She could make out ancient, rusty mail and helms, and here one guard held a heavy, curved sword.

  “Gods,” she whispered. “Those aren’t statues! They’re skeletons!”

  “Who’d leave bones to guard a throne room?” one of the Keep men murmured.

  “They are the enemy,” Panev said sternly. “Fear them, and be wary!”

  “But they aren’t moving!” Jerdren whispered in reply.

  Kadymus pushed past him, Hebold right on his heels.

  “That throne! Look at them jewels!” the youth whispered.

  Eddis looked. What she’d taken for fading torchlight shining on metal turned out to be gems—enormous rubies, unless her eyes deceived her.

  “Do not touch them!” the priest warned, but Hebold rolled his eyes and passed the little thief at a bound, dagger ready to pry the ruddy stones free.

  “Fool of a priest, what’s the danger in a gem?” He chuckled softly as his blade popped one free. “Hah! One of these and a man’s set for life,” he said softly, shoving Kadymus aside as he tried to help.

  The breath caught in Eddis’ throat. The skeletons along the south wall were stirring, and a wordless gasp of warning behind her assured her the others were as well.

  “Back!” the priest ordered. Kadymus looked up, yelped, and fled the dais. Hebold ignored priest and thief both. He was busily freeing a second stone. The rest of the company backed toward the doorway, Panev setting himself grimly as rearguard against the undead. Bony figures raised their swords and slowly stalked toward him, but two rounded on the barbarian, who suddenly came alert to his peril. He dropped gem and dagger, rolled across the dais as a sword crashed down where his neck had been, leaped to his feet, and swung the battle-axe two-handed, shattering both helm and the skull under it. A second swing and the skeleton broke apart, bones flying and bouncing across the stone floor.

  Kadymus yelped as one detached arm clutched at his leg, and he went down. Jerdren swore and grabbed him by the sleeve, dragging him across the floor to relative safety. Hebold snarled curses as the second skeletons blade slashed his hand. He tossed the battle-axe from his right to his left and swung it flat on, slamming the bony guard into the wall. The man looked around wildly, found the company, and ran.

  Jerdren pushed past Panev to go to his new ally’s aid, but the priest yanked him back. He was muttering under his breath, and the small, dark wand he held turned briefly a pale green. The remaining skeleton guards backed away from the party and began stalking along the walls. Trying to get around us to flee—or to keep us here, Eddis thought.

  “Back!” Mead hissed and pressed past her. She expected one of his fireballs, but the mage threw a day jug of oil into the chamber, splashing many of the skeletons. A burning candle stub followed.

  Flames roared high. Dry, rotting doth burst into flames, and several of the nearest undead simply fell over and were consumed. The five still on their feet ran for the doorway, but Hebold and two of the Keep men who carried battering weapons blocked the way and battered them into bone shards and dust.

  “Damage,” the priest demanded sternly, and to Eddis’ eyes, he’d grown and changed since entering this cave—turning from mere priest to a deadly force. “Let no cut go untended in such a foul den as this!”

  Jerdren turned to stare from the room. “Not yet!” he hissed. “Somethings out there, coming this way!”

  The priest’s eyes dosed briefly. “Coming, but not close enough to be a danger.” His dark eyes fixed on Kadymus, smoldered as they picked out Hebold. “I warned you. But take the g
ems, if you wish. Nothing will challenge you for them now.” He strode over to stamp out the few remaining flames.

  “Don’t doubt that I will,” Hebold replied stiffly. “Priest.”

  The word sounded like a curse, and Jerdren spoke quietly but urgently against the man’s ear. Hebold nodded, then turned away to scoop up his dagger, so he could free the other stone. He shoved the last in his belt and brought up his chin to meet Eddis’ glare with a challenging stare of his own.

  She turned away as if disinterested, then froze. Something was moving out in the hall—close by. Uneven footsteps. Lame guards? she wondered.

  What came into sight didn’t look lame so much as corpselike. A zombie, she realized, and swallowed hard. The reek of long-dead bodies filled the chamber. Eight of the foul undead approached slowly, bulging eyes or empty eye sockets fixed on the invaders. They carried no weapons that she could see. She set an arrow to her string and moved offside to get a clear shot. M’Baddah thrust Flerys behind him as he put himself against her left shoulder and drew back on his own bow. Her arrow slammed into the nearest zombie with a nasty squelching sound. M’Baddah’s went clear through its neck and into the shoulder of the one behind. Neither seemed affected.

  More arrows: Between them, Willow and M’Baddah had neutralized three, but they were both running out of the magic arrows. Jerdren caught up a spear and swung it at a shuffling corpse. The zombie’s head went flying, and the body collapsed.

  “They die like the skeletons!” Jerden shouted. “Take ’em apart and they’re worthless!” He darted forward, Keep men following, maces and axes swinging.

  One cried out and fell. A zombie had him by the ankle. Another man hacked the arm from its body and kicked at it. Blorys hauled the man to his feet and passed him back to Mead. Hebold slammed his heavy axe into one fallen zombie, cutting it nearly in half. Another man cried out in horror and pain.

  Sudden silence.

  The hall reeked of long-dead flesh, and the floor was slick with black, oily fluid that seeped from severed limbs and heads. Most of Eddis’ arrows were worthless—coated in foul ooze, broken, or the fletches soaked. M’Baddah and Willow retrieved what they could but finally gave up in disgust. Eddis held her breath as they edged past the horrid mess and into the open.