The chimeras stood patiently, as if waiting for him to elaborate.
So, he tried. “It’s a city, in a cavern. Don’t you find that amazing?” He waved his arms for emphasis, to no avail. The Five just blinked. “Well, I find it amazing.”
Tough crowd, huh?
Yeah. Pause. What about you? You unimpressed, too?
No, Arune admitted, not unimpressed. Anxious– a little – but not unimpressed.
Anxious. Alright. What can you tell me?
Why don’t we do this the other way ‘round this time?
Vykers grimaced. What do you mean?
Why don’t you tell me what you sense?
He spoke aloud, “Right. I don’t see any lamps or torches, so either the place is empty, or whoever lives here has learned to get along without light.” He waited. Arune said nothing. “I don’t hear anything, either. No livestock, no running water, no tradesmen working. It’s quiet as a grave.”
It is a grave. There’s nothing alive in there, bigger than a bat. But there are a lot of those.
You gonna sulk if I ask the boys what they think?
I’ll take that as a ‘no.’ “Well, fellas, what else can you tell me?”
Number 36 said, “Something is moving around in there.”
“Bats?”
“On the ground. Something on the ground is moving in there,” the creature clarified.
Vykers had a gut feeling. “Ready for some fightin’?” he asked the Five.
Slowly and with utmost caution, the group proceeded towards the ruined city. Here and there, tremendous cracks in the earth had set various sections on a perilous slant in one direction or another, as if something unspeakably massive had struck the city from below. Those towers that weren’t broken or toppled entirely leaned like drunkards in random alignments. Walls were breached and others had been spontaneously created out of the rubble. The whole effect was of a children’s toy wrecked by an angry god. Bold as he was, Vykers was not prepared to fight a god.
Some…power…is pushing at me, Arune said.
Heh. Now you know how it feels, Vykers told her.
Arune seemed not to have heard him. It’s like the rolling of the ocean. Not something I could ever push back for long.
It had to be the thing he’d come for, the sword. Which way? He asked.
Somewhere on the other side of this city and…down.
Vykers groaned. Down! Why is it always down! He addressed the Five. “Well, boys, looks like we’ve gotta go through those ruins to find what we came for. But let’s stick together. I still think we’re in for hostilities, whether there’s anything alive in there or not.”
About thirty or forty paces in, Vykers’ gut feeling was vindicated when some rubble shifted off to his left and a new dead warrior rose to its feet. Number 3 was about to charge, when another rose nearby. And another. Vykers watched with an almost amused air as a small army of the dead assembled before him. He noticed the apparitions were most numerous in the direction from which he’d come, as if they were blocking his retreat. Having come this far, though, he had no plans to retreat. Besides, it wasn’t his way.
Okay, Burn, it’s time to show me what you can do. You able to cast again, yet?
Tell your pets to stand back, please.
Vykers did. An astonishingly loud musical tone burst from his chest and the dead in front of him collapsed in heaps and piles. In the silence that followed, Vykers was greeted by the five chimeras with looks of confusion mingled with awe. He knew how they felt.
That wasn’t fire.
Oh, I’m sorry. Was I supposed to use fire? Arune answered a hint of mischievous pride in her voice.
What did you do?
I shattered their bones. Pulverized them, actually.
There were still a few of the creatures lingering on either side of Arune’s blast, but they wavered and swayed uncertainly, apparently stunned by the loss of their ghastly fellows. It was so comical, Vykers laughed aloud.
“Lose your taste for a fight, did ya?” he bellowed at them.
And then he heard the sound of countless undead feet approaching, and he knew he’d fucked up.
“Where are they coming from this time?” he called over to the Five.
“Everywhere,” Number 17 replied.
“Pick your ground, but stay close. Sounds like this could get messy.” Can you do any more of those pulverizing things? He asked Arune.
Not for a while. Takes a lot out of me. Especially here.
Well, you’d better come up with something. I doubt these dead bastards’ll take to their heels if things turn against them.
The dead came pouring out of every alley, street, ruined building, doorway and window.
“How many you reckon?” Vykers asked no one in particular.
“Hundreds,” one of the chimeras – he didn’t see which – said.
“Yeah. I figured.”
He took them all in and saw every conceivable kind of sword, axe, mace and spear. Some were equipped in full battle armor, others were little more than skeletons with odd bits of armor. The armor, though, was not of one style or era, and it occurred to Vykers that many of those before him must have been tomb raiders who had come here at various times and been claimed by the army before him. Although he would have thought they didn’t possess the necessary anatomy, they screamed of a sudden and rushed him and his companions.
Vykers felt fantastic.
In seconds, an unbroken wall of howling dead was upon him and, as always, Vykers knew where in space to avoid their weapons and where to find their bodies with his own. And again, Arune played witness to his genius, still unable to believe or comprehend that anyone mortal could move with such prescience and magnificence. Clearly, Vykers had recovered from his ordeal in the forest; he’d gotten stronger and more confident with each conflict. What would it be like to see the Reaper at the height of his powers? As it was, he was already a supernatural blur. The dead dissolved before his sword in a rain of dried flesh, broken armor and shattered bone. And all the while, he laughed.
Not that it was an easy thing, however much Vykers made it seem so. His adversaries knew no fear or exhaustion, and there appeared no end of them. They attacked with the single-mindedness of army ants tearing into a beetle. In his peripheral vision, Vykers caught glimpses of his chimeras tearing, smashing and battering their way through wave after wave of dead. For all the remains that now lay scattered about their feet, though, they didn’t seem to be making any progress. Hundreds? Vykers thought. This feels like thousands!
At last, Vykers felt a twinge as Arune launched an incendiary barrage at the back of the attackers, decimating their force and severely weakening their assault. Through the smoking wreckage, Vykers was finally able to catch fleeting hints of open space behind the dead, welcome evidence of a limit to their number.
I think I’m startin’ to like you, he told the Shaper.
And all I had to do was demonstrate a talent for destruction, she responded, coyly.
The Reaper continued whirling, hacking, and dodging. How does one reap the already dead? He wondered. Might be time for a new nickname…Gradually, he heard less and less of the clattering and clanking of his foes and more and more of the snarling, grunting and breathing of his friends, until the moment came when he realized nothing opposed him or his chimeras. The six of them – and Arune – had prevailed. Vykers kicked at the mound of dead in front of him, tossing various pieces away from the central pile.
“Some o’ this shit’s ages old. Might be it even goes back before the Awakening. Anybody recognize this?” He picked up an axe-like weapon and held it out before his face. In general, it looked like a mace, except for the long and sharp projections jutting from one side of its head.
The Five shook their heads.
That’s an old Ntambi war club.
A what war club?
Ntambi. From across the Southern Sea.
Vykers was flabbergasted. How do
you know that?
His Majesty had a small museum of arms and armor – souvenirs, relics, archeological finds. He had two or three of these things.
You’re telling me somebody in this pile crossed the Southern Sea?
You asked if I recognized the thing. Its name is all I can say for certain.
Never occurred to me before, but I might have to go visit these Ntambi people once we’re finished with old what’s-his-name. Vykers sheathed his sword and tucked the war club into his belt. “Now,” he said aloud, “about this magic sword…”
It’s up ahead; I can still feel it pushing me. This’ll take some getting used to.
There was a subdued groan, and Number 12 sank to his haunches.
Vykers crossed over to him. “You get hit?” he asked, giving the creature a quick once-over.
Without replying, Number 12 lifted his left hand from his stomach, revealing a bloody hole. Studying the other four, Vykers saw numerous cuts, scrapes and piercings. Number 12 had taken the worst of it.
“You gonna make it?” he asked the chimera.
It did not answer, but fell backwards into the dust and debris. The other four rushed to attend to it.
Can you do anything for him?
The only thing I can do to stabilize him is to occupy him, but I’d have to leave you to do that, and you’d lose your hands and feet.
“Can you do anything?” Vykers asked the four upright chimeras.
“Mmmm. Possibly,” was all Number 3 said.
Gently, delicately, the four cleared the area around their fallen comrade and made him as comfortable as they could. Next, they all placed their hands on his torso, as near the wound as they could get without hurting him further. Vykers might have expected murmuring, spell-casting, praying. But there was none of that. The four healthy chimeras simply surrounded the fifth in a deep and prolonged silence.
Any idea what’s happening?
I have no –
Number 3 turned to Vykers. “We have done our best, but we cannot save him.”
“Well,” Vykers began.
“There is more, master.”
Vykers waited.
“We have to eat his remains once he passes.”
The Reaper’s jaw popped open and hung like porch swing.
“In this way, our friend will continue and the four of us will be strengthened by him.”
Silence.
“Master, in respect for our friend, could we have some privacy in which to complete our…observance?”
Vykers shut his mouth, nodded and turned away, walking several paces in the direction of the sword he sought. Behind him, he heard a quick, meaty thud, followed by gruesome sounds of flesh being rent. This lasted only a few minutes before the more routine, if momentarily more meaningful, sounds of the chimeras eating took over. A normal man would, of course, have been put off by such things; Vykers had seen and heard worse. He’d been waist-deep in steaming entrails and bathed in blood and bile. The chimeras’ consumption of their companion was awkward and strange, but they would all survive it. Excepting Number 12, naturally.
In time, Number 3 spoke up. “We are ready to proceed.”
The Reaper waved them forward without looking back. “Lead the way,” he said.
Continuing towards the heart of the ruins, the group encountered a great chasm that looked to have swallowed half the city at the very least. Broken columns, foundations, statuary and other masonry formed a talus into the chasm’s depths.
Down there, Arune said.
I figured, said Vykers. To the Four, he said, “Looks like maybe we can pick a path through the rubble. If dead men can do it, shouldn’t be too hard for us, either.”
Now that he actually looked at them, Vykers noticed the Four had gotten slightly larger, and their various tusks, horns, claws and pincers, more menacing. If that’s how it worked, the Reaper’d have to make sure one of them didn’t eat the other three. The resultant beast would be something even he wouldn’t enjoy meeting in combat.
It was rough going, but after nearly an hour, Arune announced, It is here.
Number 17 was oddly contorted and fixated on a nearby boulder, the once-upon-a-time marble cornerstone of a massive building.
Addressing both, Vykers said “I’m not seeing anything.”
It’s under that stone, I think.
What? Vykers asked in disbelief. How am I supposed to move that fucking rock? Mahnus-cursed thing’s as big as a…Suddenly, he understood. Shaper, he said. Do some shaping. He paused. Please. He felt something like glee welling within Arune.
Brace yourself for the burn, o mighty one, she warned.
A wave of invisible energy surged from Vykers’ chest. The surface of the cornerstone became blurry and ethereal. Number 17’s head whipped around to regard Vykers. The creature nodded, as if acknowledging something, and then extended his hands to the stone, causing it to blur even further. Vykers was not in significant pain, but his body was definitely aware of the cost of Arune’s spell casting. In moments, the Shaper and Number 17 had rearranged the stone’s volume, so that its perimeter had reduced considerably, and its height increased, accordingly. On the ground where the stone had been, Vykers spied flattened plate armor filled with a dust he assumed had once been bones…and a sword, a sword that was not damaged. Vykers’ discomfort subsided as Arune finished her spell.
How come I didn’t feel that when you blasted those dead warriors?
You might have been a little preoccupied. Maybe you don’t feel pain when you’re fighting.
Vykers took a deep breath, exhaled through his nose. Guess it’s time to grab this thing, then…’less you’ve got any last words o’ wisdom…
Arune said nothing for a moment and then, Good luck.
He walked to the sword and stood over it for several seconds. It was not a gaudy thing, not decorated with elaborate runes and other etchings, not finished with gold in the hilt or jewels in the pommel. It was not of unusual design or unrecognizable material. In fact, on visual inspection, given the choice between this sword and a thousand others, the average man might pick five hundred before landing on this.
“I like it,” Vykers proclaimed aloud. “I think.”
Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. He knelt down to pick it up.
~ SEVEN ~
Janks, On the Trail
“What’s ‘at look like to you?” Janks asked the twins.
His team stood on a ridge, overlooking a vast valley. In the distance, miles away, was an immense shadow that spread across the valley and off into the horizon.
“The enemy’s host?” Long’s twin guessed.
“That’s it,” Janks’ twin agreed.
Janks, a veteran – if sometimes reluctant – campaigner gasped. “Biggest damned army I ever seen.”
“That doesn’t look good, I must say,” Rem interjected.
“What it looks like,” said Bash, “is the sergeant’s dead. And so are we, if we don’t turn around but fast.”
For the millionth time, Janks inwardly cursed himself. They’d have never left that little town if it hadn’t been for him. Long would still be telling tall tales about all the women he had to please. Hell, maybe he’d even been doing it. And now, he was dead, or would be shortly. The corporal glanced over at his troops, people he barely knew. He’d gotten them into this fix – he’d gotten them all into this fix. Whatever other plans or desires he might have, he had to see those still alive back to the relative safety of the Queen’s army.
“We head back,” he said.
“But…” the little A’Shea objected.
“Shut it,” Janks ordered, in no mood for argument. “The only way you’re gonna live is to turn tail and rejoin the Queen’s army.” He could see tacit agreement in the eyes of the twins, Bash and Rem. Only the A’Shea seemed resistant to the idea. “We’d best get outta here, ‘fore their scouts catch sight of us,” Janks urged.
Everyone turned back they way they had come, including the hea
ler.
*****
Long, In the End’s Camp
It was dark inside the End-of-All-Things’ tent, and the air had an unpleasant, unidentifiable odor to it. The owner of the tent sat on a makeshift throne, before which Long had been brought in shackles. Two huge guards stood on either side of him, bristling with weapons. The End-of-All-Things was enjoying a meal of some sort of live, newborn rodents, which he dangled over his mouth like grapes before dropping them in and chewing. Long was both disgusted and terrified, which, he supposed, was exactly what his captor was aiming for.
Steel, Blood & Fire (Immortal Treachery Book 1) Page 24