The Northern Approach (12 page)

Raeln stared where the orc had pointed and saw a small amount of movement in the dim light. He thought at first it might be a rat, but it was much bigger, knocking aside several of the bodies as it flailed.

“Close us in,” Raeln ordered, walking toward the movement. “I don’t want whatever’s behind us getting in here too. We can handle one.” He moved slowly over to the pile of corpses, hearing the door being barred behind him, likely by On’esquin, given the weight of the beam. Raeln eased himself to a crouch as he got close to the moving shape, trying to keep out of its reach as he figured out what it was.

Lying beneath a pile of dwarves that had climbed each other in an attempt to get to the door in that part of the room, a single human corpse moved about, groaning softly as it tried to reach for Raeln with blackened and decayed fingers. The white of bone poking through the tips of the fingers allowed Raeln to easily see how far it could reach and stay out of that range.

The zombie was trapped by the weight of the dead dwarves, weakly biting at the air and flailing the only arm it had free. At Raeln’s approach its white eyes turned his way and the hand slapped at the floor, desperately trying to grab him.

Raeln stepped on the zombie’s outstretched hand, ignoring the sickly squish under his toes and the way his claws sank into its flesh. Keeping it held down that way, he leaned closer to examine the body.

Though it continued to try to bite at him, Raeln poked and pulled at the human corpse’s clothing, trying to find any that was still intact. He finally found a section not covered with blood and not too badly decayed and eyed the fabric in what little light emanated from the magical globes that lined the upper walls of the room. “Altisian,” he noted, hanging his head. Drawing his dagger, Raeln plunged it into the zombie’s forehead, ending its thrashing.

“Fortress is lost if Altis has been here already,” Yoska replied nearby, standing beside the pool at the middle of the room. “Water smells not good for drinking, either. We should try to get out with what we already have, though will be small meals until we get out of the mountains.”

“We have bigger issues,” warned On’esquin, facing the far end of the room. “I hear snarling. Does anyone else hear snarling?”

Perking his ears, Raeln immediately caught the sounds On’esquin spoke of. Something—rather, several somethings—were running down the passage opposite the one they had entered through, where the door was propped open. All three other entrances were closed—now that they had closed the one behind them—but that one stood open and whatever was hissing and running their way did not sound far off.

“Get the left!” Raeln shouted, jumping to his feet and running for the twin doors on the north end of the room.

On’esquin reached the doorway at the same time Raeln did, each of them slamming into one of the heavy doors. They strained and grunted, pushing the heavy stone barriers slowly shut.

At the last moment, as On’esquin’s side had nearly shut, a pale-skinned arm reached through and clawed at the air, snagging Raeln’s shirt briefly. Twisting, the arm tore at On’esquin’s sleeve and the skin beneath, leaving long, ragged scratches that faded almost immediately to bruises and then disappeared into the green of the rest of his skin.

Raeln knew the creature that arm belonged to. He had seen them in and around Lantonne during its last days. The thing lunging for them was a ghoul—a kind of zombie that had become like a feral beast, trying to consume the living at any risk to itself. They were disgusting diseased monsters and whether they could handle the creature or not, Raeln wanted nothing to do with it.

Keeping his weight against his door, Raeln caught the ghoul’s wrist and yanked the arm backward, breaking its elbow against the lip of the door. A bloodcurdling scream from the other side preceded the creature pulling its arm back into the darkness and the door slamming shut. With a thankful whistle, On’esquin dropped the bar across the door, locking it.

“That was closer than I would have liked,” the orc said, nodding at the rips in Raeln’s shirt. “They cannot kill me, but they certainly would be one of the more efficient ways of torturing me for eternity. Have you ever been touched by a ghoul before?”

“I have and I know you should be losing feeling in your arm about now,” Raeln noted, eliciting a smirk from On’esquin. “That doesn’t work either?”

“Many things do not work on me, but it still hurts the same. Given enough of the ghoul’s poison, I believe I would eventually slow down. See to it that the gypsy hasn’t gotten us in more trouble. We need to come up with a plan to get through the rest of the city.”

Raeln left On’esquin at the northern door and headed over to where Yoska stood, just inside the door they had entered from originally. The old human rubbed at the stubble on his cheek, staring off into the dark hall beyond though the tiny gap between the doors.

“Thinking of another way out?” asked Raeln as he came over.

“No,” Yoska told him, smiling nervously. “I am listening to them coming around through the halls. We are being trapped. Is no other way out that I know of. We face ghouls no matter which exit we take…as well as whatever has been following us, which is likely another ghoul.”

Raeln cocked his head and tilted his ears forward, listening to the creak of the stones and occasional echoes of water falling from the damp roof of the cavern to the floor or into the well at the middle of the room. He could not hear anything out there at first, but then slowly he began to pick up soft echoes of bare feet running. The ghouls were approaching swiftly, circling the room.

Raeln’s tail sank nervously and his skin prickled with a chill as he looked around at the corpses that filled the room. He leaned against the doors and tried not to think about how long they might be stuck in there. The answer might depend largely on how much food and water they had left of their own and how much air the room held.

Moving away from the doors, Yoska started to sit down, but then grunted and came down hard, clutching at his side. Before Raeln could ask, the man held up a blood-covered hand for him to see. “Poultice is good, but is not magic,” the man explained, sighing and tapping the back of his head against the stone door. “Wound was very deep. Deep enough that she thought I would die within hours. She intended for me to suffer. Now, she gets her wish before I have gotten my revenge on the creature that uses her body, no? Had hoped to find supplies to stop bleeding while down here.”

A scratching from the far side of the thick doors let Raeln know the ghouls had found their way blocked.

Looking around, Raeln tried to think of a way to run, even if he had to carry Yoska, but nothing seemed to present itself. The walls were smooth and joined in a gentle arc with the curved roof of the room. Only the doors would have allowed them out, but with all four sets barred and ghouls circling the large chamber, there was no chance of going through any of them. They would have to wait and hope the ghouls found something else to chase.

After a little while, Raeln sat down with his back to the door, while Yoska tried to slow his bleeding unsuccessfully. The whole time, On’esquin paced around the room, muttering to himself as he continued to study the walls, clearly looking for anything they had missed.

The room remained quiet for what felt like hours. Eventually, Raeln tapped at the door and heard an immediate hiss and scratching. The ghoul or ghouls were still waiting.

“I have grown very tired of being locked away in tombs for my own safety,” growled On’esquin. With a huff, he turned and kicked one of the corpses, knocking it into a larger pile of dead.

Before Raeln could chide the man for his callous treatment of the dead, a groan from within the room sent a chill down Raeln’s spine and clenched his guts. Apparently the ghouls were only part of the trap that had been set for anyone coming down into the fortress city.

Off to his left near the body On’esquin had kicked, several of the corpses were sitting up, their eyes slowly sweeping the room. One by one, the bodies began to move, as though they had been merely asleep. Dozens were soon moaning as they pushed against one another, trying to get up.

“On’esquin?” Raeln called out, grabbing Yoska’s arm. “Can you do anything?”

“Not that would help us, unless you are secretly a wizard,” the man shouted back, running around the pond at the center of the room to join Raeln and Yoska. By the time he reached them, nearly fifty zombies had gotten to their feet and were watching him move with hungry expressions.

Raeln pulled Yoska onto his back, immediately feeling warm blood against his shoulder. They would have to go through the ghouls or they were as good as dead anyway. Thankfully, Yoska did not argue with his attempts to get them moving.

Searching the room one more time as On’esquin did the same, Raeln’s eyes kept coming back to the pool at the middle, meant to provide fresh water to anyone hiding in there. The dwarves floating face down in that pool were not moving, unlike all the others.

“Those ones drowned,” Raeln said aloud, walking past On’esquin toward the pool. Before he reached it, one of the first zombies began lumbering his way. With a straight kick to its chest, Raeln sent the creature tumbling into a pile of corpses, which then began moving too. While it might have slowed the one coming after him, fighting back had compounded their problems.

“Who cares how those three died?” On’esquin argued, coming up beside him and grabbing Raeln’s sword from its sheath. “We’re trapped. I don’t know that I can drown, if that was your plan.”

“They thought they knew a way out,” Raeln explained, side-stepping a zombie’s clumsy grab. Many more were coming and he knew he could not avoid them long while carrying Yoska. They would simply circle him and keep pushing until he was theirs. “Start swimming. We’ll follow your lead after a minute. You can explore and show us the right way.”

With a miserable whine, the orc shoved Raeln’s sword back in its sheath, clearly having preferred the idea of fighting. “I hate water,” On’esquin said, even as he stepped into the shallow lip of the pool. “Never learned to swim.”

“Time to learn right now. There’s no time for lessons. Go!”

Saying nothing further, On’esquin took another step into the pool and sank like a stone.

“Behind!” warned Yoska near Raeln’s ear.

Raeln spun and barely had time to react as three zombies rushed at him. He used his free hand to tear the face off one—which only staggered it—then kicked one away and tripped the other. Dozens more were coming and Raeln was already surrounded. There were at least a hundred zombies on their feet, most walking slowly toward him, reminding him they could wait an eternity until he was too tired to fight.

Backing away, Raeln felt around with his foot until his toes slid down the steep stone slope into the pool of icy water. He moved again until the water came up past his upper ankles and the back of his foot’s pad rested on the edge of a drop-off. “Can you hold your breath?” asked Raeln, taking slow, deep breaths of his own to ready his lungs.

“Yes, but will make me bleed faster,” Yoska warned. “If you cannot get to air quickly, leave me. I am stubborn man and will try to find a way to you.”

“I’m not leaving anyone.”

“Is noble gesture, but is not practical,” the man argued.

“Get ready.”

Yoska began slowing his own breathing the way Raeln had been and then lurched to one side. When Raeln looked over, a zombie was stumbling away with a huge gash in its throat and Yoska was settling back on Raeln’s shoulders.

“Now!” Raeln said, taking a deep breath and stepping backward.

Falling straight down into the icy water, Raeln very nearly lost his breath as the cold shocked his body and numbed his skin. Even after much of the summer having passed, the mountain spring that fed this pool was bitter cold. Air might not be their biggest concern if they had to swim for long.

Raeln ducked under the water, holding Yoska as close to himself as he could. Dark shapes moved overhead, hands slapping at the water ineffectually in an attempt to reach them, but instead leaving blood trails in the water.

Rolling underwater, Raeln put his feet to the side of the angled shaft they were in and kicked off hard to get them moving in the right direction. With only one way to go—down and northward—he did not even have to think about whether it was the right choice. Anywhere that took him away from the undead dwarves was correct, even if they drowned. He would be fine with losing days or weeks of progress in their travels if it got him somewhere warm.