by Phil Tucker
“The past few days make my first weeks down there seem a nightmarish dream,” said Lotharia. “Crawling in the shadows, hiding like a rat in whichever bolt-hole I could find. It feels almost like another life.”
“We’re going to have to be extra careful,” I said. “I know that goes without saying, or should, but you can’t head out on a mission like this without actually saying it, you know?”
“Got it,” said Falkon.
“So, we agreed on the plan? Lotharia and I will enter the town using our Stealth to locate a plague corpse. We’ll then lasso it and drag it to the town border under the cover of Lotharia’s fog, where you’ll be waiting to cover our retreat up to the castle. Sound good?”
The plan’s simplicity had seemed its strong point last night when we’d devised it. Now it sounded foolishly optimistic.
“We’ve got all day,” said Falkon. “Remember that. Bide your time. Wait for the perfect moment. And if things go wrong, we all sprint the hell out. Clear?”
“Clear,” Lotharia and I murmured.
We stood still for a moment longer, none of us eager to begin this mission, and then as one we followed the thin bank around the base of the wall to the wooden siege bridge, over which we quickly scampered. From there we picked an oblique approach down, not wanting to use the main path, skirting the forest edge as we moved ever closer.
The ground had leveled out and we were drawing close to the town when something drew my eye toward a couple of massive trees that flanked the main path far to our left. Astute Observer? Either way, I picked out a couple of figures standing as still as statues behind each trunk, looking up the path. Squinting, I thought I could make out the pale gleam of bone and multiple arms.
“Over there,” I whispered, sinking into a crouch behind a tangle of blackberry bushes. “You see those two trees? Looks like the undead have posted a guard.”
“You’re right,” said Falkon. “And serious-looking guards, too.”
“I don’t see them,” said Lotharia.
“Hurry up and buy Astute Observer, then,” said Falkon, and pretended to flinch away when she thwapped his arm.
“Interesting,” I said. “They weren’t there when we escaped. Which means they’ve been posted since we left. But nothing we’ve done has affected Feldgrau. So why post guards?”
Lotharia drew her scepter from behind her back. “They must have noticed our activity in the castle. The Dread Lord must be keeping tabs on us.”
I recalled his chill eyes gazing at me when I’d floated down upon the tides of magic to examine Feldgrau, and shivered. “Yeah. Let’s make a really strong effort to avoid getting any more attention. Sound good?”
They both nodded and we resumed our approach, running all hunched over and darting from tree to outcropping to bush till we reached a large rock on the far flank of Feldgrau with its path leading up to the highland meadow.
“This should be close enough,” I whispered. “Falkon, want to chill here?”
“Sure,” said Falkon. “Adrenaline Surge and Headlong Charge should bring me into town in a matter of moments if things go wrong.”
“Things are not going to go wrong,” said Lotharia darkly.
“Exactly.” I rubbed my palms on my hips to dry them. “All right. I’m up.”
“Good luck,” said Falkon. “Remember: hitting the undead between the legs doesn’t do a damn thing.”
I chuckled but was too nervous to let the humor distract me. “OK. On the count of three. One. Two. Three.”
“You’re supposed to run at three,” said Lotharia dryly.
“Oh. Yeah. Right.” I took a deep breath, focused on the darkness within the closest building, and Shadow Stepped, sinking into the shadow beside the rock. It was like falling into a pool within the depths of a cave; soft and chill and all-enveloping. Darkness flowed across my eyes, and I stretched for the far shadows, keeping my mind firmly focused on the ruined shack. Was it too far?
There was a sense of strain, like trying to swim five yards farther than was comfortable underwater, and then I emerged with a muffled gasp, hand over my mouth, crouched beside the shack. Elation and euphoria swirled within me even as I pressed my back to the wall, looking side to side for any signs of the undead. At the first hint of danger I’d Double Step right back to the boulder – but there was none.
Coast was clear.
I waited, giving it ten or so minutes to make sure this far corner of Feldgrau wasn’t on anything’s patrol route, then waved over to where Lotharia was waiting, beckoning her over. She bolted across the open grass, shoulders hunched, looking as if she expected to take an arrow in the side at any moment. I steadied her when she reached me, and couldn’t help but grin.
“Gotta love that Athletics: Basic (I) you got going there, eh?”
Lotharia elbowed me in the side and peered past me into Feldgrau. “You’re not exactly in a position to show off. Now – what’s the plan?”
“I think this was some kind of animal shack back in the day,” I said. “Probably belonging to that small hut over there. The actual street begins just beyond it, leading straight into town. How about we skirt around the back of the hut and see what we find?”
She nodded, so I ran out from the shadows, over the furrowed, night-frozen mud of what might have been a pig wallow ages past, and reached the back of the hut. Lotharia joined me a moment later, and we moved around the back, casting anxious glances in every direction till the street came into view.
The houses here were relatively small and impoverished; they quickly became better than huts, but none of them had two stories and all of them were closely packed together as if huddling in fear. ‘Street’ was too grandiose a name for the rutted path that ran between them, but the track had clearly been the cause behind the erection of the buildings, which extended out of the village proper to follow the path as it led toward the highland meadow. Carefully, taking our time, we worked our way behind the houses, and finally reached the first crossroads.
“This was once called Moon’s Way,” whispered Lotharia. “It looped all the way around Feldgrau, with markers in the ground depicting the changing phases of the moon. Full moon for the main path that led up to the castle. I think it was crescent here where it hit the highland meadow’s road.”
“Should see some traffic on it, then,” I replied. “Let’s settle in and watch.”
We both crouched, shoulders touching, and sure enough, it didn’t take long for a skeleton to shuffle into view. He looked confused, stopping to turn around and gaze behind him several times. It was too easy to imagine him scratching his head, but he just kept on shuffling, till finally he turned into a doorway and was gone.
A few moments later, a pack of draugrs moved past the rear entrance of the alleyway across from us. Luckily, they didn’t come any closer, and soon disappeared. More skeletons, this time in a group of six, moving with the greater purpose of a squad along the Moon’s Way. There was silence for a spell. Lotharia chewed on a strand of her hair, then froze. A six-armed champion stalked into view.
I tried to sink even deeper into the nook in which we were hiding. At a pinch I could Shadow Step away, but that would mean leaving Lotharia behind. So basically not an option. The champion easily stood some seven feet tall, with a mess of overlapping shoulder blades like bone carapace armor connecting to clavicles from which each of its arms extended. It carried a tower shield in one of its left hands, a bow beneath that, and then a variety of blades and maces in its remaining hands, with a quiver hanging from its hip.
A band of pale metal – perhaps silver or platinum – was welded to its brow, above which rose a forest of small boney protrusions like sharp thorns. Its eyes burned with malevolent blue flames, and its head swung from side to side as it strode by, ceaselessly examining its environs.
My throat squeezed shut with fear and my skin tingled as the hairs o
n the nape of my neck and backs of my arms rose. My stomach filled with acid, and I wanted nothing more than to turn and run. I held my breath, and for a brief second I could have sworn it stared right at me – but then it moved on, following the curvature of the street, and was gone.
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“Holy crap,” I whispered. “What level do you think those things are?”
Lotharia pressed her sleeve to her brow. “I’ve no idea. Easily level twenty. Maybe thirty. Who knows?”
“I’m just glad it doesn’t have Astute Observer.” I turned my blade over and over in my hand. “Where would I even stab it?”
“Look – over there,” whispered Lotharia, leaning into me and pointing over my shoulder toward an alleyway, her cheek nearly touching mine. “There – see it?”
I did. A classic zombie-looking monster, staggering like a drunkard, knees bent, shoulders hunched. I could barely make out the buzz of the flies that surrounded it, along with a faint wet bubbling noise. That’d be the insects in its flesh, I hazarded, and my gorge rose.
I took the lasso from my hip. I’d practiced last night, but wasn’t expecting to toss it over the zombie from a real distance; instead, the plan was for me to Double Step in and out, dropping the lasso over its head before it registered my presence. Or managed to infect me, for that matter.
“Coast clear?” I asked.
“You’re the one with Astute Observer,” she said, “but yes. Looks good to me.”
I bit my lip and leaned out, taking a good look both up and down Moon’s Way and Highland Meadow Road. Everything was quiet. I unspooled the lasso, holding the slipknot in my right hand, and was about to Shadow Step when Lotharia grabbed me by the shoulder and hauled me back into the shadows.
“Don’t move!” she whispered in my ear. I remained frozen, half lying in her arms as she hugged me tight, staring out at the band of street before us. A moment later a ghost woman floated into view, her face rotted and pale, dress and lower legs fading away into mist. Her presence made me feel awful and weird, as if I’d hit my funny bone then had that feeling generalized all over my body. I held my breath, and then she was gone.
“Close one,” whispered Lotharia, breath warm in my ear.
I caught my balance and edged away, very aware of how it had felt to have her arms around me. “Thanks,” I whispered back. “Here we go.”
I double-checked for traffic again, then Double Stepped across Moon’s Way and into the alley. Up close, the buzzing of the insects was horrendous, and I nearly gagged from the stench. Holding my breath, eyes watering, I dropped the lasso over the zombie’s shoulders and hurled the coil of rope back across the street to where Lotharia waited, completing my Double Step back as quickly as I possibly could.
There wasn’t any time to catch my breath, however. Lotharia had already cast Summon Fog by the time I emerged, the cottony white mist boiling out everywhere to obscure this part of Moon’s Way. I snatched up the coil of rope where it lay scattered across the street, wrapped it around my back and arm and hauled with all my strength.
The plague corpse didn’t resist, the rope going slack immediately. I skipped back, only to nearly fall over myself as the rope suddenly went taut as a piano wire. What the hell? Then it hit me. I’d toppled the corpse over with my first yank.
Lotharia reached my side, emerging from the fog only a few feet before me. “What’s wrong? Go!”
“It’s fallen over!” I hissed. “I’m not strong enough to drag it all the way out of town!”
“Give it a moment, then.” She glanced nervously around. “They stand up by themselves. Then pull it more carefully!”
Grinding my teeth, I tested the rope. There was a little more give – was it standing up? I forced myself to wait, precious seconds rolling past, then pulled again. There. Some resistance, then give.
“Got it,” I said. “Time to—”
A skeletal champion stepped out of the fog behind Lotharia. Two hands gripped her arms, a third clamped over her mouth while a fourth tore her scepter from her grasp. It lifted her right off her feet, eyes burning into mine.
Movement right behind me. With no time to even look I Shadow Stepped wildly, the fog giving me enough cover right there and then to disappear into the roiling darkness. A moment later I was behind the skeletal champion that had been about to grab me. I activated Adrenaline Surge, the sweet, delirious burn of power coursed through my limbs, and slammed my dagger right into the monster’s spine.
My blade skittered off bone, barely scratching it. It wheeled, shockingly fast, hand swooping around to catch me about the throat, but I fell back into the fog, hit the dirt and rolled, coming up to my feet and nearly overbalancing in the process.
More shapes were emerging from the fog all around me. More skeletal champions. One – no, two, three of them. Four in all. Arms like octopoid monstrosities, blades and maces and bows. My heart was pounding, my pulse like a drum in my ears, but I could only see Lotharia in the original champion’s grip, kicking and trying to break free.
They were closing in around me. I cursed and threw myself into a reckless roll, narrowly avoiding two different attempts to grab me and coming up behind Lotharia’s champion. This time I was ready.
I summoned my Death Dagger.
A shard of ice formed in the palm of my hand, elongating in the flash of an eye, wicked and broad, black like the space between stars and edged with a burning, brilliant blue like the kind of flame you get from a chem lab Bunsen burner. Its edge undulated like the waves of a stormy ocean, and where it swung it keened, as if slicing the very air and hurting it in the process.
With a cry, I brought the Death Dagger down high on the champion’s back, aiming to cut through into its chest.
The wicked, beautiful dagger hit the champion – and bounced right off.
Shocked, I staggered back, blade burning in my fist. The champion spun around again, whipping Lotharia through the air.
Damn it! I’d forgotten. The Death Dagger did necrotic damage. Useless against the undead! I dismissed it, furious at my waste of mana, and then threw myself aside as the champion charged me.
I hit the ground awkwardly, tucked in my shoulder and rolled. Came up running and sprinted off into the fog, quickly leaving the champion behind only to run right into another who loomed above me. It swept me off the ground, two hands latching onto my upper arms, another pair squeezing the sides of my head as if it were trying to burst the world’s largest egg.
Hell no. I Shadow Stepped without hesitation, stretching, trying to throw myself as far away from this melee as I could. Sweet darkness pulled me away from the skeleton’s embrace, and then spat me out in the shadow of a chimney atop a roof. I staggered, nearly fell, then wrapped my arms around the chimney as if it were my long-lost love. Gasping, sweat burning my eyes, I stared down into the fog-choked street.
The fog cloud was dissipating even as I stared, revealing six skeletal champions in all, each of them casting around for some sign of me. I hunched down just as Adrenaline Surge gave out, and could do no more than simply lean my head against the chimney and focus on not puking.
Six of them. And they’d appeared as soon as we’d made our move. Which meant that first one had seen me. It had gone on to report, maybe, and then come back with five friends to lay an ambush. Damn!
Anger helped me lift my head. The champions were still hunting for me, while the one carrying Lotharia was stalking with rigid angularity deeper into Feldgrau. I glanced out past the edge of town: no sign of Falkon. If he’d seen the five champions, he’d no doubt realized there was nothing he could do.
Sounds came from beneath me. A champion was making its way up to the roof. I didn’t have time to hesitate. I checked my character sheet: only one mana left. Again, I wanted to kick myself for the huge Death Dagger waste, but what the hell. I was still learning.
With extr
eme effort, I made myself stand. I wanted nothing more than to curl up and wait for death, but extensive experience dealing with hangovers in college helped me muscle through. Breathing in sharp, short pants, I hobbled along the top of the roof to its edge. C’mon, Adrenaline Surge. Any day now!
A boney fist smashed through the tiles a few yards behind me, and faster than I’d have credited the skeletal champion hauled itself up, sending tiles flying, hands and weapons clattering on support beams and broken clay until it stood before me in a deep crouch.
Two scimitars. A whip. A morningstar, and two empty hands. I had my dagger.
It moved forward, going from absolutely still to blur without any transition. I could barely stand. Tasted bile in the back of my throat. My leg muscles were cramped. It felt like the worst food poisoning in the world.
And then the nausea was gone.
I threw myself backward, right off the roof just as the champion closed with me, activating Ledge Runner as I fell. I swear my feet swerved off to the left, pulling the rest of me onto a rope that hung across the street, burnt pieces of flesh hanging from loops along its length. I didn’t even want to know, but simply crouched as the line sagged to take my weight, then I spun and sprinted up its length to the house on the other side of the street.
Have I mentioned how much I effing love Ledge Runner?