He stumbled across the plaza and saw a river of bodies ahead of him. As he stared, he saw something shift in their forms. A pulsing. Like a heartbeat coming from inside each glowing, dead body. The lights were all throbbing out of time with each other. But as he wended his way through them, the pulse began to sync. It was growing stronger too. He could feel a terrible power growing all around him.
25
As Gansel walked out of the alley, she froze in place. Having been unable to sleep all night, her nerves were already rattled.
Whenever she’d tried to close her eyes, memories of nightmares, anger about how Tymuld had treated her, and guilt over Asman’s predicament raced through her head.
She thought she could calm her thoughts by drinking meadow flower tea, but the usually pleasant floral aroma only made her think of the dead elves. After hours of pacing alone in her apartment, she stepped outside to get some fresh air and watch the sunrise.
The streets were still damp from last night’s rain, so she wrapped herself up in a blanket and walked through the quiet city, hoping to stand by the harbor and watch the sunrise behind the city walls.
It didn’t take long for her to find the first of the dead though. When she’d approached the Merchant’s Quarter, confusion and fear stopped her, two Underkeepers were face down in the gutter.
At first, she thought that they had passed out drunk. But the Assembly’s guards weren’t known to be in their cups, dipsomania was considered a weakness and an abomination to the Purity of the Human Spirit.
She shook herself out of her stupefaction and silently stepped around them. When she turned the corner, she saw the rest of the dead.
Bodies littered the streets, laying in their sick and in various disturbing forms of repose.
In shock, she wandered aimlessly, her original plans quite forgotten. She stayed to the shadows, afraid to be seen in the city by who? Who was left to see her?
She stepped over another corpse that had fallen on his face, dying horribly like every other human she had seen so far. This was one of the many merchants that tended a stall in Frogmonger Alley. Hundreds, there were hundreds of people dead and lying in the streets, covered in vomit and reeking of defecation. Those that fell face up were the worst, their faces cringing, eyes vacant and staring up at the sky. She remembered the warning. Did the Assembly have something to do with this?
Soon, she was in the Slave Market, it looked the same as in her dream. But this time it was occupied only by the dead. She covered her face, tears streaming from her eyes. Was the whole city like this? She stopped walking, too overwhelmed and frightened to keep going, keep looking.
There! A noise across the market. Was there someone alive? Should she hide? She sunk down behind a cart and looked around, trying to find where the sound came from.
A group of humans was moving in a tight huddle and trying to stay out of sight. By their fair hair and complexion, she assumed they from Saagardell. Perhaps prisoners of war? They were still in chains, likely only having escaped their captors as they fell dead.
Empty crates stacked beside the cart tumbled down as she maneuvered to get a better view. Their clattering echoed through the empty plaza. She ducked down low behind the cart, trying hard to be invisible.
After a few minutes, she peeked over the crates. The liberated slaves must have run off. They had to be even more afraid than she was.
She wished them luck in her heart and made herself move towards the direction they had come from, towards the Temple.
Crossing the bridge, she passed another group of dead Assembly soldiers and her dread continued to grow along with her confusion. Why would the Assembly have done something like this to their own people? Did they loathe weakness so much that they would excise it from the entire city, including themselves, through some sort of mass suicide?
Looking up the boulevard, she saw the Temple looming over the city. Its dark spires cast long shadows through the streets and into the harbor. She could see birds flying around minarets and roosting on buttresses.
A noise from the other side of the street startled her. Among a cluster of the recently dead stood a horse. It was eating leaves off of a shrub, its rider draped limply across its neck. The streets felt increasingly uncanny and oppressive. She ran into the Temple’s shadow.
As she drew close, a scream echoed through the empty streets. She recognized it as Asman’s, his screams well ingrained in her mind. She went faster, skirting around the bodies. Where was he?
There! She saw him stumbling, running crouched across the Temple Square. He looked desperate and terrified. She called out.
He spun at the sound of her voice and she could see the black empty holes where his eyes had been. She stepped toward him.
“No!” he yelled, stretching a handout, warding her approach. “Stop! Stay away! Stay down!”
He veered in her direction, all the while staring at the ground. It was as if he could see the bodies he navigated through. How?
“Why did you come? What are you doing here? This isn’t safe!”
They reached each other. She stepped closer, hands outstretched, hoping to calm him, but he flinched away. Could he see her? “Don’t be silly!” she chided herself. “He obviously can't see anything!”
But was staring right at her.
He whirled around, clearly surveying m the death that surrounded them, “We’ve got to get out of here!”
“It’s okay! We’re safe! The Assembly is dead.” she said in an attempt to soothe him.
He grabbed her arms and looked directly at her face, his empty eyes and scarred visage bore deep into her. Her certainty drained away.
“No, not completely!” he croaked.
Then there was a noise behind them. A wet, chittering screech that came from the Temple steps. There at the entrance stood the Vicar, by his side was an enormous and deformed bugbear. The human began to laugh. The monstrosity roared and lumbered down the steps towards them.
As it approached, tentacles came off its back and caressed the corpses it passed. Horror gripped Gansel as, to her surprise, the dead began to stand and follow the mutated bugbear.
“They aren’t dead!” Asman yelled.
Like a stone dropped in a still pond, the animating force rippled out from where the first dead rose. In a growing concentric circle, the corpses staggered upright and turned their hundreds of vacant eyes towards Gansel and Asman.
They spoke, unified, hoarse and halting, “Weakness. Will. Die.”
Asman grabbed her arm and yanked her away from the mass of risen humans. They stumbled towards a narrow alley leading through to the canals.
She couldn’t understand how could he be leading her anywhere. How did he even know where to go?
He pushed her ahead of him, yelling, “Go! Run!”
She did. She could hear the thunder of footsteps behind her. Hundreds of people that were, only a few moments ago, dead and unmoving now pursued them. Looking back, she saw Asman grab two of them by their throats and quickly snap their necks, one with each hand. They stopped moving and he threw them at the oncoming horde.
Asman caught up with Gansel. “Go! Go!”
They exited the alley and Asman put his hand on her shoulder. “Which way will get us out of the city the fastest?”
She looked to the north and saw one of the many bastions rising above the city wall.
“This way!” she said and ran ahead of him along the waterway.
“They’re coming! We’ve got to get out of the city!” he said, pointing to the other side of the canal. Another wave of humans was reanimating. It was like watching a line of falling dominoes in reverse. The dead were rising exponentially. Soon there would be no way out of the streets.
She grabbed his arm and turned in the direction of a smaller bridge that crossed the canal north of the rising dead. “If we hurry, we can cross through the Brewing District and get out through Meistergate. Once we cross the river, we can make our way into Frogtown.”
A roar echoed above the chanting of the dead humans. Looking up, she saw the disfigured bugbear approaching across the rooftops.
They made it to the bridge in time, barely. The crowd was coming up behind them at a quicker pace than Gansel could've ever imagined. The dead were still rising across the river too, spilling out of homes and shops, and would soon cut them off if they didn’t move faster.
But as they crossed, there was another roar from their pursuer as it leaped off the top of a building and sailed through the air. It landed on its feet in the middle of the bridge just behind them. Red eyes glowed with rage, focused on Asman.
Gansel was growing tired. Her legs ached and slowed. The pounding in her chest was nothing to the cold burning of simply trying to get a lungful of air.
“I can't run anymore!” she cried.
Asman was gasping for breath as hard as her, his battered body struggling to bear him forward. “You have to! They’re right behind us! Keep running!” he growled.
“How can you tell where we’re going?” She gulped for another breath. “What happened to you?”
“I don’t know!” Frustration and pain hung from his face like a threadbare shirt, worn thin and in need of mending.
The horde pursued them relentlessly and she could hear the city around and in front of them waking up from its dead slumber as they continued their flight towards Frogtown. Their chanting continued, grew, and she could feel their presence press against her mind. Had the entire city died? How?
She turned her thoughts away from the panic and towards their destination. The dwarves. Would they turn her away again? Would saving Asman change their mind about her? Where could they go once they got out of the city?
26
Earlok suspected something was wrong when he stepped out of the tavern that morning. Something was missing from the air. Not a smell, but a noise, all the noise. Normally, he could hear the din and clatter of humans coming from over the wall. The sounds of industry, steamworks, people yelling, the march of the guard. But today, the city was quiet. All that was left was the quiet shushing of the river.
He stepped out into the narrow street to gain a better view of the bastions. The Bug joined him, puffing on his pipe, smoke stones glowing red under his face.
"What'cher lookin' at barkeep?" he asked.
"Something has changed in the city. I wonder if something happened in there," Earlok puzzled.
Thorley horked back a gob of phlegm and spat on the ground, “Blast them humans and darkness take this city!" he said. “I gotta take a piss.”
He waddled behind the tavern.
Earlok's curiosity wasn't easing though. There was something wrong at the gate for sure, there weren't any guards posted.
He left the tavern behind and approached the bridge with care. Two spears lay on the ground near pools of vomit. Their owners had abandoned them as hastily as their post. The gate stood open wide enough for him to slip in and check if he wanted to.
He didn't want to. He wanted to go back to his warm tavern and plan tonight's dinner. Anything but deal with humans and their idiocy.
A shadow slid by on the other side of the gate and just beyond the entrance, Earlok could hear a faint voice muttering. What had gone on during the night?
"Hallo?" he called out in a cracking voice. "What happened to the guard? Can we come in yet?"
The faint voice spoke out, more distinctly now, but no louder. It said in not more than a whisper, "So... weak..."
"Are you hurt?" Earlok implored as he stepped closer to the entrance. He attempted to peer through but hesitated to get any nearer. The gate interior was full of early dawn shadows.
"You want me to come in?" he called a little louder, the concern growing in his voice. "You need me to get the other guards to come and help?"
"Weakness..." the voice gasped. Earlok put his hand on the door and peered into the opening.
A filthy human hand shot out and grabbed him by the back of his leather jerkin. It yanked him hard into the gateway and threw him down on his back. Another hand grabbed him under the chin, crushing his throat.
He struggled to breathe, to cry out. Pain exploded in his head and stars swam before his eyes. Two human guards stood over him, their eyes seemed to shimmer and glow purple in the morning light.
Black mist crept across the edges of his vision as sounds swelled then muted from the world around him.
A dark shape rose up behind the two humans. A roaring filled his ears, was that the sound of his blood rushing in panic? No. That was an actual roar.
The shadow reached out for the idle human. Two large clawed hands wrapped around his head and neck. Without any more sound other than a wet snap, the human’s head was simply removed. Asman came into his narrowing field of vision from the shadows and backhanded the other human off of Earlok.
As the guard flew across the street, Earlok gasped in cold air that raked down his burning throat and coughed spastically. Gansel was suddenly by his side, dragging him back through the gate and onto the bridge.
He finally gagged out, “Can walk!”
She helped him to steady and let him stand on his own.
On the other side of the still open gate, he heard the clamor of battle. Over the bugbear’s roaring, the dwarf could hear punches landing hard and fast, interspersed with the occasional sounds of rending and screams.
He and the human girl backed away from the opening, ready to run. There was a heavy thud against the gate as a body hit the wood and slid down between the opened doors. Asman soon followed through, leaping over the limp body.
“We need to get out of here fast,” the bugbear yelled.
“This way!” Earlok staggered across the bridge and waved for them to follow, heading back towards the tavern. “Is someone attacking the city? Where are the Assembly guards?”
In a half whisper, Gansel said, “There’s no more Assembly,” she shook her head, “there’s...”
She paused as if still coming to terms with the reality of it all. “There’s no more city. They’re all dead, mostly.”
“What? What do you mean mostly? How is that possible? If they’re dead, then who was that?” Earlok asked.
Asman spoke then as they entered the narrow street leading to the tavern, his deep basso voice filling the morning air, “It’s true, all the city residents died during the night and then somehow came back to life. But, not quite. They're… wrong, somehow. And they're after us. Right behind us, and if we don’t get out of here, we’ll be torn apart.”
Earlok shook his head. This didn’t make any sense!
That was when they heard the cracking and bellowing. Thousands of human voices crying a single word in unison, “Weakness!” Louder with every repetition.
“They’re in the ghetto!” Gansel cried.
Humans poured through the now broken gate, streaming across the bridge towards Frogtown. Men, women, and children were running fast into the dirt streets, a dust cloud following their path and filling the air around them. Some carried weapons, some wielded torches. Before the trio of survivors turned down the street that led to the Weitfam, they saw the mob split off into other parts of the slums. But there was one large group that followed them. Earlok saw the ones with torches lighting the thatch roofs of several smaller buildings.
Thorley ran out from behind the tavern, hitching up his trousers. Tymuld stepped outside to see what the noise was. Gansel shouted at them, "Get out! Get away! They’re going to burn it all!"
Tymuld ran across the street and began pounding on the doors, hoping to wake her neighbors. Goblins poked their heads out of windows and doors, their faces bleary with sleep. When they saw the mob rushing into the streets, they ducked back inside.
Screams rolled over the rooftops as the horde spread through Frogtown. The group that was approaching them
slowed down and stood in place, watching them with glowing eyes and hatred twisting their faces.
As one they chanted a new litany over and over, "Weakness will perish. Weakness will perish."
Asman put himself between the horde and the others, calling back over his shoulder, "You've got to get as many people out of here as you can! Now!"
Earlok looked to Thorley. "One of your tunnels around here?"
Thorley blinked. "I have no idea what you are talking about!"
"Look you old rat," Earlok shouted, pointing to the humans, "now is not the time for your lies. We're trapped! I know you've got some secret way out of here! How else would you have gotten Buchak's blackweed sold off?"
The old dwarf scowled at Earlok, "Fine, follow me."
The humans’ chanting wavered, stuttered and the motley group turned their attention back to the crowd. A large form loomed over them. The dazed humans shoved aside as it passed.
Asman growled, "Get out of here now!"
Earlok gasped, "Is that...?"
But before he could finish, Buchak stepped out through the crowd. Earlok stared at what used to be his old friend, mouth agape. There were things within that host of appendages. Mouths and eyes and teeth.
He shuddered as the writhing tentacles engulfing Buchak’s head and torso trained their attention towards them, mouths and eyes and teeth appeared and vanished within the shifting mass
And a terrifying growl rumbled within Buchak’s chest.
The appendages swayed and from their depths, Buchak’s strangled voice rose to join the renewed chorus, "Weakness will perish!"
Asman yelled as he squared off against what had once been his uncle, "Go!"
Goblins were running out of their houses now, some clutching belongings or children.
Thorley snatched at their sleeves and yelled at his companions, "Behind the tavern, now!"
Earlok pushed his daughter ahead of him, throwing questions at his uncle "Why aren’t we leaving? Thorley? Where are we going?"
The Bug ignored him, ushering them through the alleyway towards the tavern’s back entrance.
The Necrosopher’s Apprentice Page 28