“Both of those are easily answered,” Rex assured him. “I think we should put the gateway as near the center of the city as we can get it. That way, if an undead army does manage to breach the walls, they'll still have to fight their way through the streets to reach it. Fortunately, there's a winery with a rather large cellar right in the heart of Parmoor.”
“That is fortunate,” Darek smiled. “Although, I don't think we can put it in a cellar. It's not just a matter of being able to get our men out, we have to get thousands of people in. Not to mention, horses, wagons, and who knows what all else.”
“It's connected directly to the street by a ramp sealed by a pair of large double doors,” he explained. “You can drive a loaded wagon right down into it. Plus, the woman who owns it is a sympathizer. Her husband was harvested just over a year ago. I've never known anyone who hated the undead more than she does. If there's anyone in this city we can trust, it’s her.”
“That sounds ideal,” Sarrac said.
“As far as arming the Warriors is concerned,” Rex continued, “it might be best if your forces just started slaughtering the garrison. If you could clear the streets of any undead, it would be simplicity itself to distribute the weapons and armor.”
“We can certainly do that,” Alena assured him.
“In that case,” Myra said, “it's just a matter of finding the runes.”
“Which will wait until tomorrow,” Sarrac asserted.
“I don't see why,” Alena replied, shaking her head.
“Because it's already afternoon,” he explained, “Nyssa and I are going to have to get the rest of our equipment...”
“I also need to take that poor girl her cloak back,” the fairy interjected. “I've been thinking about it, and it might have sentimental value. Her husband may have given it to her or something. I didn't see a wedding ring, but her hands were in the sink. It's funny how people get attached to the most useless things. Take Joey, for instance...”
“Not to mention,” the ogre continued, interrupting Nyssa's train of thought, “that the city is currently on alert. It would probably be a good idea to let things cool off for a few hours before we try to break into the citadel.”
“I suppose I can see that,” the ogress replied.
“Meaning: you'll need somewhere to spend the night,” Rex said. “As it happens, I know just the place.”
Having said this, he rose from his seat, took one of the lanterns hanging from the ceiling in his hand, unlocked the door, and led the party to the stairs at the end of the hallway. These they descended to their very bottom, where Rex opened a hidden doorway before plunging into the passage of brick that lay beyond it.
For several minutes, they traversed several winding corridors that ran under the city. Finally, Rex climbed a short ladder that led to the floor of what appeared to be a storage room. At the far end of this chamber was another set of steps that ended at a solid wooden door studded with nails. Rex unlocked this door before slowly opening it and cautiously scanning the alleyway into which it led.
“Follow me,” he said softly, stepping out into the street.
The band obeyed; making their way from one alley to another, just steps behind the middle-aged Warrior. At last, he led them into the main boulevard that ran through the city. They strolled along the street, discussing the weather and pretending to be interested in the different shops that they passed. Eventually, they entered an establishment named The Blood of the Vine.
“Karen,” Rex called out as the band passed through the entrance, “I need to speak with you for a moment.”
In answer to this summons, an attractive woman of perhaps forty stepped from an adjacent room. Minutes later, the entire party was led into the cellar of the winery where they intended to place the gateway to the Fortress of Donmar.
“You should be perfectly safe here,” Rex assured them with a wide smile. “I'll post Yaelen nearby to keep me informed. If you need anything from me, you'll be able to send word by him. I don't think it would be wise for us to meet again until after you've brought the fortress here. Governor Bermoth isn't certain that I'm a Warrior, or even a sympathizer, or I'd be dead. However, he'd be a fool not to have any suspicions. As long as the undead rule the city, the less you see of me, the better it will likely be for all of us.”
“If everything goes as planned,” Paul said, taking Rex by the wrist, “Parmoor may be free before the sun sets tomorrow.”
“I hope to the gods that's the case,” he nodded. “Send me word as soon as the fortress is here and I'll notify every Warrior in the city.”
“We certainly will,” the paladin assured him.
Chapter 11: Getting Out
“For a temporary hideout,” Darek said, lifting a bottle of wine from one of the racks that filled the cellar, “this is a fairly nice place.”
“Except for being cluttered, dank, and dusty, I agree,” Alena replied as she unrolled a blanket on the cold stone floor.
“Sure,” he nodded. “But, you can't have everything. Karen was good enough to offer us a bottle to go with our dinner. I've got the feeling that that will more than make up for any little inconveniences the place has.”
“Provided you can find a wine that goes with roasted grain,” the ogress chuckled.
“We should have ordered a meal at The Long Night before we left,” Darek said thoughtfully.
“Well, we're not going back for one,” Paul pointed out with a smile.
“Sadly,” Darek sighed, “I agree with you. Still, I feel confident that I'll discover something that can entertain our palates. We also need to find things to vary our rations on a more regular basis. Our rebellion really needs to add fresh bread, cheese, and more dried meat to its field diet.”
“You are just about bizarre sometimes,” Alena asserted, shaking her head. “You know that, don't you?”
“What's bizarre about not wanting to constantly eat roasted grain?”
“Nothing, I guess,” she shrugged. “It just seems odd to be thinking about it when we could all end up dead tomorrow.”
“We could all end up dead tomorrow every day,” he pointed out.
“That's a fair point,” she smiled.
“Alright,” Joey sighed, glancing over the top of the paper he had been staring at for the last few minutes and lowering the quill in his hand. “Despite my best efforts, you've finally managed to distract me.”
“How so?” Darek asked.
“What do you guys use to make cheese?”
“Milk,” Alena answered with a rising inflection.
“What kind of milk?”
“Galtar's milk,” she replied.
“What's a galtar?”
“An animal that gives milk,” Darek said with a slightly sarcastic tone in his voice.
“I have got to start culling my questions,” Joey replied, returning his attention to the piece of parchment in his lap.
“I would begin with the obviously stupid ones,” the ogress said, pretending to be encouraging.
“What are you working on, bro?” Paul asked, his eyes on the wizard.
“At the moment?” he said with a sigh. “Nothing. That's mainly because I'm having a hard time concentrating for some reason.”
“Sorry,” the paladin replied. “I'll let you get back to it.”
“Thank you!”
“Myra,” he said, turning his gaze to the beautiful maiden. “It strikes me that your dress – which looks very good on you, by the way – has to be magical. If it wasn't, then the capture stone wouldn't have...”
“It is magical,” she interjected.
“Right,” he nodded. “So, why were your par... Lord and Lady Telraen going to destroy it when they went to burn you at the stake? Magical items aren't the kind of thing you just want to throw away.”
“The enchantment on it is minor,” she explained. “Also, it's not permanent. I have to recast it every decade or so.”
“What is the enchantment?”
&n
bsp; “It's a durability spell. It just keeps it from wearing out. I like the way it looks and didn't want to have to get a new one every year or so.”
“That makes sense,” he nodded.
“Paul,” Alena said thoughtfully, stretching out on her pallet as she spoke, “how much ground do you think you can sanctify in a single day?”
“Quite a bit. I'm getting better and better at channeling divine power.”
“Yes, you are!” Nyssa agreed, as she and Sarrac appeared at the top of the stairs leading down into the cellar. “Which is hardly surprising, really. The more you use it, the more you'll be able to use it.”
“We got your staffs,” the ogre said, “and your armor.”
“Much appreciated,” Paul replied, stepping over to relieve his friend of the aforementioned articles.
“Very much,” Darek smiled, glancing up from the bottle in his hand.
“We'll be right back,” Sarrac replied, turning to make his way back up the stairs.
“What else do you have to get?” Alena asked.
“A few things,” the ogre replied.
“I have to take that cloak back,” Nyssa explained. “I don't want her to have to head home cloak-less. What would her husband say?”
“Don't be long,” Joey said, once again lifting his eyes from the rune-covered paper.
“We won't be,” the fairy assured him before vanishing from sight.
“How much ground do you want me to sanctify?” the paladin asked, turning his attention to the ogress.
“The entire city,” she smiled.
“That's not going to happen,” he replied. “Not in five days, anyway.”
“Maybe Mark can help,” she suggested.
“Maybe he can,” Paul agreed. “Still, we're not going to be able to protect the entire city.”
“I wasn't being literal,” she explained. “I just think it would be a good idea to sanctify as much of it as you can.”
“That certainly is a good idea,” he nodded. “It also brings to mind another question. Myra, why don't the undead desecrate their entire strongholds?”
“A few reasons,” she replied. “Desecration is a more personal thing than sanctification.”
“What?” the paladin chuckled.
“I mean,” she continued, “when the undead desecrate a place, they do it for their own personal advantage. They're not just trying to help undead and hinder priests and paladins – which haven't existed for hundreds of years. The goal is to increase the power of the creature that filled the area with dark power – as well as those who serve them – and weaken anyone else.”
“Even other undead?” Paul asked.
“Especially them,” the maiden nodded. “For three centuries, the only enemies the undead have had to worry about are other undead. As a result, the primary focus of their defenses is against one another.
“Another reason they only desecrate certain areas is because it takes a great deal of power and it has to be redone regularly. If the runes aren't maintained, their power will fade in time.”
“Like a sanctified area that hasn't been outlined in sliver dust,” he speculated.
“It's the same basic idea,” she said. “Although, ground is actually sanctified by the gods; which is why you don't have to create runes to maintain it.”
“So...” Paul replied, pausing to think for a moment before continuing. “Desecrated ground isn't just cursed by the gods of darkness or something?”
“No,” she said, “it isn't.”
“That doesn't make sense,” he asserted.
“In what way does it not make sense?”
“I just mean,” he explained, “that it seems like the dark and divine powers should be opposites.”
“They are,” she replied. “That doesn't mean they always have exactly opposite effects. Making people die using dark power is simplicity itself. It's not so easy to make the dead spring back to life using divine power.”
“You could almost look at them as philosophical opposites,” Darek said, lifting yet another bottle to inspect. “One seeks to serve, protect, and heal. The other, to enslave, weaken, and destroy. At least; that's my understanding as a layman. I'm sure Sarrac could give you a more religious explanation.”
“That's actually a really good way to put it,” Myra smiled. “It serves the goals of the gods of light to create places of permanent protection. That's not true of the gods of darkness. They don't want their servants safe; they want them killing each other. They feed off pain and suffering. The more of it there is, the better.”
“If that's the case,” Paul said, “they can't be very pleased with this perpetual peace the undead have managed to create.”
“Not all of them are,” she replied. “Of course, it has brought about a great deal of suffering, which seems to satisfy most of them – at least for the time being.”
“Alright,” he nodded. “So, desecration isn't exactly the opposite of sanctification; but dark power can be used to corrupt holy ground.”
“Exactly.”
“That being the case,” the paladin continued, “why didn't Grathis just send in an evil priest to corrupt Kal Tammon or something?”
“Obviously, I can't know for sure,” she replied, “but several possibilities spring to mind.”
“Such as?”
“First, he almost certainly didn't expect the ground to be sanctified. So, he wasn't prepared to deal with it. Second, the lords of Mal’Creal aren't exactly faithful worshipers of the gods of evil, so finding a dark priest might have been difficult.”
“Are you serious?” Paul asked with half a smile. “They strike me as the poster children for worshipers of the gods of evil.”
“That's because you don't know them,” she said, shaking her head. “What's a poster child, by the way?”
“I just mean that they seem like the perfect example of evil god worshipers.”
“Well, they're not,” she replied. “In fact, all the priests of darkness were driven from Mal’Creal before I was born.”
“More than a century before you were born,” Alena added.
“What sense does that make?” Paul asked. “If anyone would be good at grinding the living into the dirt, it seems like dark priests would be.”
“They are,” she nodded. “However, they also have the ability to command undead.”
“Ah,” he nodded. “Yeah, I should have thought of that. D&D 2.0. They can control them in much the same way as I can turn them.”
“Add to that the fact that the living can serve the gods of darkness as well as the dead, and you can see why the undead might fear them.”
“I certainly can,” he agreed. “I guess that's why we haven't run into more undead priests.”
“It is,” she nodded. “There are plenty of them in Zanoth, but not so many in Mal’Creal.”
“We're back!” Nyssa said, proving the veracity of her statement by once again popping into view at the top of the stairs.
“It took you long enough,” Joey said, shooting her a smile. “I was beginning to feel impatient.”
“You're very welcome,” she smiled in return.
“There were a few things I wanted to buy,” Sarrac said, making his way down the steps.
“Like what?” Alena asked.
“Bread, cheese, a few apples,” he replied, making his way toward her with one arm behind his back, “a sausage, and these.”
As he brought his statement to an end, he offered the ogress a bouquet of beautiful flowers; the blossoms of which seemed to shift in color from red to blue in the flickering torchlight.
“What are these for?” she asked, gazing at him from under a single raised eyebrow.
“Most of them are for you,” he replied. “A few are for Myra, and the others are for Nyssa.”
“I buy Nyssa's flowers,” Joey interjected.
“No, you don't,” she disagreed, shaking her tiny head. “At least, you never have before. Unless, of course, you bought them
and then didn't give them to me. That would just be stupid. Which, I guess does sound a lot like you. Why didn't you give them to me?”
“That might have spoiled the surprise,” he replied.
“Men take things too far,” she observed aloud. “I mean: I like surprises as much as the next fairy – maybe even more – but, not getting flowers in order not to spoil the surprise of getting them is just nonsense. Isn't it?”
“I guess it is,” he agreed with a sigh. “I'll try to do better next time.”
“You'd better,” she replied with a slight tone of warning.
“Why did you buy me flowers?” Alena asked with a tone of warning in her own voice.
“Because you like them,” was Sarrac's simple reply.
“She does?” Joey chuckled.
“I do,” she admitted, glaring at the wizard. “Why shouldn't I?”
“You just strike me as...” he began before pausing, “the kind of girl that would prefer roses.”
“What are roses?” she asked.
“That explains that then,” he nodded, before returning his gaze to the parchment. “Enjoy your whatever-they-are.”
“They're called dessman blossoms,” Myra explained.
“I'm sure they are,” he replied.
“I wish I'd thought to buy you some myself,” Paul said with his eyes on his love. “Of course, I'd never heard of them before today.”
“It's the thought that counts,” she replied, offering him a coy smile.
“Let's see here,” Darek interjected. “Bread, cheese, apples, and a sausage... Perhaps...”
As he said this, he took a bottle from the shelf, carefully extracted the cork, and gingerly smelled its contents.
“Yep,” he said with a wide smile. “That will do nicely.”
The band sat down on the floor to enjoy their meal – with the exception of Nyssa, who had decided that Joey's shoulder was far more comfortable than the cold stones. The next few minutes were filled with the wizard thinking, muttering to himself, and jotting down arcane symbols, while doing his best not to be distracted by the fairy. This was something he seemed to find somewhat difficult. The paladin focused on flirting with the fair former lich, who seemed rather receptive to his attention. Similarly, the ogre flirted with the ogress. For her part, however, she didn't seem in any way receptive at all. In fact, she seemed to be getting ever closer to slapping him in the face. Darek once again renewed the topic of the vampiress; wondering whether she might take part in the siege of Parmoor – if there turned out to be one.
The Shrine of Kallen (The Tales of Zanoth Book 3) Page 19