Galen Vesa

* Thou who strengthens mountains, shield us and grant us your strength.  *

* Thou who governs over light bless our weapon for this fight, smite the darkness from our path. *

* Ruler of the seven winds grant us swiftness of your wings. *

“Aren’t you overdoing it? We were supposed to conserve mana.”

* What good can mana do to a dead man? *

Fair point.

“Save yer prayers fer later lad and go kill some fookin…”

One of the corpses howled, then another. Dead, grating, tortured cry spread from one creature to the other. As if the souls trapped and chained to the rotting flesh screamed while going insane from the agony of being held between life and death.

“Shut your foul mouth if you want to live! Kid, you go left I go right. Remember what I said, one at a time.”

“There’s about twenty on the bridge and some more further away. The wagon won’t pass over the corpses so we have to pull them off the bridge and finish it off as quick as we can.”

“Ready?”

I gave him a nod.

We advanced without rush, wary of our surroundings, taking our time to walk over to the bridge. Few feet away Orsen stopped and moved to the side, motioning me to do the same. Following his example, I took my stance left to the mouth of the bridge.

I can’t say I know much about bridge building and I care even less for the concrete and steel behemoths we throw over the rivers, bays, and seas. Most people don’t even think about the marvel of engineering a bridge is. How ludicrous. I had to be thrown out of my cozy civilized world to appreciate the beauty and splendor of such a common structure. A carved stone arc guarded the entrance to the sandstone paved ramp that lead into a nine-foot-wide passage, fenced off on each side with railings of polished, white marble. Spaced every twenty feet, a tall statue of a winged woman adorned the railing. One of the statue’s hand held a rose raised in a greeting as if offering it to a traveler while in the other one, each woman gripped a staff. The tip of the staff seemed to house a lantern but none of them were lit as we approached. Over the ramp, a group of people blocked our path.

“Come here creatures of the dark and face your judgment!”

Orsen tapped his hammer against his shield, gathering their attention. As one body, a wall of corpses moved towards the sound like a moth towards the light. I tapped my shield as well, mimicking his moves. It worked, we split the crowd in half. Now even without our clacketing a steady stream of bodies flown towards us.

I am no hero and I always lacked the backbone to become one. I never wished to fight and perhaps if I weren’t who I was, a broken human leftover, I would never fight. With death creeping upon us, I would soil my pants and run away for what we saw on that bridge should not be seen. Men, women, children, and elderly. All mutilated far beyond what could be recognized as human beings. Some were rotted down to the bones, others seemed fresh as if the tragedy took them by surprise just minutes ago.

With a swat of his hammer, Orsen separated the first corpse from its head. How little effort he made. His hammer drew an arc in the air then sunk into the creature’s head as if it were no more than a sponge. I saw dry skin flaking off, the skull cracking like a twig and imploding, gray mush spurting out through the cracks. Pulled by the force of impact, its neck bend and elongated, then after reaching the maximum force the dried corpse could take, the tendons snapped and peeled.  The headless body made a step or two before crumbling into dust.

Not wasting a move, the paladin shook off his hammer and raised his guard as three more advanced upon him. Pushing two blindly advancing bodies away with his shield, he bashed the third one with his hammer, cleaving off its head in half.  Fourth one tried to flank him, he sent its head flying with an uppercut that pushed the corpse jaws inside its brain.

Like a butcher in his shop, one by one, Orsen methodically cleared his way, laying to rest body after a body. One well aimed hit at a time.

Me? I am no hero, no warrior. I just made a certain girl a lousy promise to live. Trifle, I know. But that is the only reason I have. The only reason to move my arm.

A stunning, read hair goddess spread her arms towards me as if reading herself to embrace her lover. Her bare body bore no blemish on her milky skin. Her breasts ripe and ready swayed with each shambling move. Her belly flat without a hint of excess fat while her waistline curved like that of a wasp. And all of that lost through the bite in her palm, sending black lines of root up her arm.

With a heavy thud, my iron club propelled by the power of magic pulverized her forehead. The back of her head exploded sending brain, bones, and hair, flying everywhere. Jolt of light magic flown through my arm. Where the club touched her, white skin burned and crumbled into black dust.

Nothing. I felt nothing. No resistance, no effort. Where once a head of a tormented creature stood, now only smoldering neck left. But I had no time to wonder.  Empowered by magic, my arm again dropped with deadly force, sending another body into the dirt. Unwieldy, I swat the club left and right, hitting whatever I could while the spell did the rest.

By sheer luck and the power of Erta’s charms, I stood unmoved while the pile of bodies at my feet grew. Call it delusion but while most of the faces we smashed bore twisted masks of insanity or agony, some appeared content, almost happy to meet our iron. Yet, all I saw in my mind were the dead eyes of the redhead and her cheeks covered by dried out tears.

I missed. Even though my club hit the corpse, ripping away its ear and crashing down through its collarbone and into its chest, that did not kill it. The body toppled and kept on wiggling in the grass.

“Leave it kid. The bridge is clear, we’re moving.”

Orsen ordered swiping off his hammer in the grass. We marched through the bridge under the watchful eyes of the statues.

As soon as we passed the water and set foot on the ground of the other side, an eerie presence occupied my mind. As if something wrong twisted the entire place. Something that should not be here. Something forced, unnatural. Like the taste of salt in your drink when you mistake it for sugar and add in few spoons. Another trick or my broken mind?

* No. It is not. There is something… astray within this land. Best we leave at first opportunity. *

That might prove difficult. Groups of ten, twenty, fifty and even well over a hundred roamed the outskirts. The closer we got to the city the larger and more frequent the presence of the undead became. Circling like hungry lions around a prey trapped inside a cage, the undead swarmed in an infinite loop around the city.

As much as we could take care of an occasional oddball, a lonely corpse marching over the road, in no way we could handle a larger group. Of those we steered clear or waited in silence until the swarm passed.

Curious thing. Blind and senseless the hordes moved with a purpose, guided by the bone chilling wails of their own brethren.  If we did not disturb them, they continued this odd dance around the city, slowly gravitating towards the wall with each passing circle.

* The dead are being summoned. The song… It is subtle but I can feel it. Someone is calling them. *

The song of the dead huh? My ignorance can tolerate most of today’s loud garbage by others called music but based on Erta’s feelings, logic told me, such tune should be avoided. How come that with each passing step we made way towards the source of it? Who am I to decide it. With the moon high above our heads, we reached the wall, sneaking past countless dead bodies.

“Ya there! On da fooking wall open da fooking gate!”

Silence answered us.

“Ey! Yer fookin deaf?! Open da gate! I ‘ev da letter fer yer cap’ain! Ey!”

“Shut your damn mouth you moron! You’ll lure every swarm in the area!”  

Spoken not a moment too soon as a large crowd swept in from behind the pyre. Frozen, we stood speechless as a sea of bodies passed by no more than a few feet away. Seconds turned into minutes, minutes turned into hours, there was no end to them. Even the oxen dared not to bat an ear.

Only by dawn, last of the dead disappeared from our sight alongside the morning mist.  As life slowly returned around us and inside us, the bridge behind us lowered over the moat to the sounds of a rattling chain.

“Ye dim ‘ooted, clogged-piped sons a’ nicked, one eyed ’ores! About yer fooking time!”

APATHY CHAPTER 9: TOMB OF THE EVEROOTH

“Strip!”

A guard screamed, aiming the pointy bits of his lance at my larynx. Not a greeting I would expect. First, they blast us with jets of steaming hot water and now this.

The bridge did lower to the rattling of the enormous chains and we were allowed beyond the gate but the second we got in, several dozen soldiers wearing full plate armor and wielding long halberds, surrounded us.

“Toss your weapons away then strip and prepare yourself for inspection!”

With that, I complied happily. Holding the iron club and the shield put so much strain on my puny arms since the enchants ebbed away… I just let them go and they dropped like stones, soon followed by the plate gloves I shook off. This body of mine grew thinner by the minute.

* Our mana is nearly spent, that form will not hold much longer. An hour at best. *

Erta warned and faded away from my mind. Eager to get rid of the no longer necessary weight I unclasp my helmet then bend over letting the mail fall off. The iron pants slide down without any help on my side, so thin my hips became. Freed of the bothersome weight, I stepped out of the pile of armor and flapping my shrinking bird around, I walked where directed. The paladin followed my heed and soon we both stood, flashing our butts.

“Fer da love a fookin ‘ore…”

Tansen tossed away his weapon and started stripping, throwing curses left and right.

The guards herded us onto a stone platform where yet again, we received a bath in the jets of, this time, ice cold water coming from the tip of a wooden staff. A form of elemental magic? An inch away from the staff a bubbling droplet the size of my fist spurted jets of pressurized water.

I watched as the owner of the staff put extra attention to make sure the angry man to my left got clean, very clean. For a moment, I could swear, there was a snicker of satisfaction on the paladin’s face as Tansen choked and cussed between the jets of water.

“Show me your hands”

A woman in her thirties, the owner of the water staff and exquisite, jet black hair pinned into a bun, ordered. Perhaps I should call her a witch? Her robe adorned by many fancy trinkets and magical runes suggested that might be a good assumption.

“The other side”

Complying, I flipped my hands palms down.

“Lift your leg”

So I did.

“Now the other one.”

Again, she checked my skin inch by inch.

“Your neck.”

I bowed slightly, bringing my neck to her eye level. The scent of persimmons tickled my nose. Was she wearing perfume?

Not finding what she was looking for, she held my gaze for a moment then with a frown moved on to the paladin and the whole ordeal repeated.

“Have you finished?”

A man clad in a fancy armor, more ornamental than functional, called out from a balustrade overlooking the small bailey we were held on. None of us noticed when he got there.

“Yes, quartermaster Rilock.”

The witch answered with a noticeable distaste. A long frown of annoyment present on her forehead deepened even more with the appearance of that man.

“And?”

With a sigh, she turned to face him like you would face an annoying child.

“If you’re asking whether they were bitten then no. None of the men nor the oxen bear bite marks or signs of the dead rot spreading. Although I would say there is plenty of wrong with those idiots crossing the plains in the middle of the night. Also, the skinny one skipped one meal too many for my taste. Give the kid something to eat unless you want to bury him by the evening.”

“I see. Get their statements and be done with it.”

He withdrew himself from the balustrade while the witch muttered something unrefined and again turned her attention towards me.

“You’re a mage?”

She accused me, her gray eyes waiting for any kind of reaction.

“No ma’am. A scribe. Lansam Fetherbutt is the name."

A wave of coughs and sniggers rolled over the gathered soldiers. I thought about adding a blank stare of a village idiot but given my outstanding acting skills I decided against it but that really didn’t matter. At this point, my twiggy knees decided it was high time for a nap and bend beneath me. I would probably fold like a house of cards had the paladin not grab me.

“What the hell’s going on, you said he wasn’t bitten!”

Someone out there in the fading crowd screamed.

“He wasn’t.”

She calmly explained.

“This is something else.”

Her gloved hand held my chin as she stared into my eyes.

“Eh, I might be wrong about this one. Who knows… ”

She shrugged her arms.

“Lock him up, we’ll see in a day or two.”

Some brutal hands picked me up and bound my arms behind. Suddenly I had an old rug shoved in my mouth and…

Can’t say I remember much beyond this point.

Vivid dreams of long forgotten past played within my tired mind. I saw my family gathered around our kitchen table, eating away a birthday cake made of the aquatic green slime. Father with a head of a horse drank one bottle of vodka after another while mom cleaned an oversized gun, her saliva dripping down her crocodile snout.

I sat in the baby chair, stuffing my face with the slimy cake.

“Court, the Court. Court!”

Our dog barked in Erta’s voice then spat flame and set my chair on fire.

And I sat there watching the colorful flames until they engulfed me and swirled around me like a raging wind…

“Order! Order! The judge is taking Place!”

A plushy bear the size of a house screamed in deep baritone at countless gathered denizens. No longer a baby, I stood guard next to a crystal throne. Sitting bored on the throne, Logic played with the strands of her black mane.

“Bring the prisoner in.”

Her cold voice brought instant silence.

And the mist came. Within the mist came the echoes of footsteps. Slow yet deadly, the Jailer came pulling his chain, spreading frost all around.

“Thief! Thief!”

“Death to the thief!”

Roared the angry mob.

“Slice and dice her! Slice and dice her!”

Anger hissed through his bloodied teeth, clawing at the inside of his straight jacket.

And then, trashing at the end of the frozen chain I saw her, the woman made of wind. The face I wished to never see again.

At the sight of her Pride turned away her face. Disgust balked and gagged, vomiting into his paper bag. Courage grit his teeth. Pleasure let out a wild purr. Shame run away crying.

Logic measured the wind with her cold, cold eyes.

“Thief. Return what you stole.”

“I am no Thief! The price of three wishes was mine to collect!”

The Jailer pulled on the Chains bounding her, snuffing her voice inside her throat. Unfazed, Logic looked at Justice.

With her blind eyes, Justice judged the wind.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“You have taken more than the wishes worth.”

Came the judgment from her puckered lips.

“Death to the thief! Death to the thief!”

The voices roared.

“There will be no murder here!”

Justice rammed her staff against the ground sending cracks all around.

“Recover what she unjustly taken, the price of three wishes she may keep.”

Logic flicked her fingers and black chains hanged the bound woman in the air, spreading her limbs apart. And the Jailer came, his fists bound with a heavy chain.

He did not pull his punches. Never.

And I watched. Watched as his fists sunk into the spirits abdomen. And I listened. Listened to the sickening sounds of meat being slapped into a pulp.

Pity Turned away her gaze and sobbed.

And I watched.

Guilt, tiny in her little black dress, tugged at my sleeve. She said nothing just looked into my eyes and shook her head.

“Enough.”

Everything disappeared at the sound of my own voice.

“Is that what you want?”

Logic asked. Only I, the wind, and her left inside the darkness. The spirit sobbed quietly at my feet.

“Then be it.”

I awoke to the sound of thunder and familiar heaviness atop my chest. The world rumbled again as my eyes adjusted to the total darkness. Like before, a black, and white world filled my view. Another thunder rolled over in the distance.

Well, at least I was not outside in that weather though I should probably cut down on the habit of waking up in weird places without the recollection of how I got there.  But that would be for another day. Right now, I should probably assess my situation and do something. I think.

Okay, I am… in some dark and kind of damp place. Triangular shaped dark place with a tough looking metal door and nothing else. Am I inside a dungeon? Hmm, no bones and chains but this possibly is a cell of some sort.

That did sum up my surroundings. Now, what about my inventory? Let’s see, chest cushions? Check. Birdie? Gone and checked. New collection of bruises? Check. Clothes? None. Check.  The ring? No idea. Can’t feel my hands. Not good. Annoyed dragon lady that should be complaining about my lack of proper manners… Nope. Silence.

“Emm-mm-hha?”

*I take it you meant, “Good morning”?  Oh, and these are not cushions. Dolt. *

Well, it would be easier without that sock in my mouth. At least it smelled and, tasted like a sock. A month old, unwashed sock.

* Do I want to know how can you possibly know how a month old, unwashed sock taste like? *

Depends on what kind of memories you want to see. Mother always told me not to put weird stuff into my mouth. Should have listened to her sooner.

Puny arms? I have some work to do, wake up. Please? Nope? Well, puny legs, do your thing.

I raised my legs over my head then swung myself up and succeeded, on the fifth try. Sitting up did not change my situation but it gave me something to do. I looked around and found a bucket, thankfully unused. A straw mat on which my glorious butt rested and, that was it. Oh, there were also the iron doors and no windows. Not exactly a five-star resort.

Still better than a room, six feet under.

My wrists were tied with something that looked like hemp rope while, judging by the Erta’s screams of agony, now that I was up and no longer crushing my own arms under my back, circulation was slowly returning.

After a minute or two which I spend admiring the iron door and enjoying the sounds made by cussing and growling dragon, I could wiggle my fingers and move the puny arms. To degree. Arms tied at my wrists and elbows did not promote wide movements. I decided to play my trump card and begged.

Any help o mighty dragon? Please?

* And here I thought you would never ask, o biggest dolt. *

Well, after last time I still had some doubts about her current abilities but, as they say it, we share this pair of chest cushions… Why do I smell something burning?

* Because I set the rope on fire. Dragon flame shall do quick work of it. Also, these are not cushions and they are quite sensitive. *

Aha. Exactly the development we need. Setting ourselves on fire. To be on the safe side I rolled off the straw matt before it caught fire. Which could not be said about my hairs. Just before the fire chewed through the rope binding my arms, my head turned into a living matchstick for several horrifying seconds. Lesson learned, fire and long hairs don’t mix. Patting off my scorched scalp, I let the puny fingers work on the knot, holding the gag in my mouth.

“So,”

My freshly liberated voice sounded hoarse.

“How do we open a door that’s been designed to open from only one side and as it seems, that is not our side.” 

I knocked on the door but only silence answered me. Judging by the coarse surface and the sound my knuckles made, these were not some wooden doors plated with metal but a true piece of cast iron. Possibly with several bolts holding them shut. Or whatever else hid on the other side.

“Got any open sesame spells in there? Preferably one that won’t blow us up in the process.”

 Silence answered me.

“Look I’m not angry at you. I haven’t been angry in years. You messed up, happens. I didn’t feel a thing and the hairs are already growing back so could you please stop sulking and get us out of here? ”

“Erta?”

* Galen, can you come here for a moment? *

Eh? Not the kind of answer I expected.  I sat under the wall and closed my eyes, waiting for the transition to happen.

Wind. A gust of wind tore at my frame. Then another and another.

With hairs blown back and dancing in the wind, Erta stood with her head raised and her wide-open eyes fixed on the spectacle happening above us.

“What’s going on?”

* Human, you tell me. *

To the sounds of thunder and roars of the wind, a column of smoke gathered right above us. Then from the east and the west, south and north and all in between similar columns of swirling smoke appeared and traveled towards us, reaching a focal point right above our heads where the wind mixed and matched, twisted and turned. Rolling the strands of smoke like a piece of yarn, into an ever-growing ball.

Above the crack, surrounded by a raging storm, the orb of mana grew before our very own eyes.

“I see, mana. A lot of mana. Why do I see mana we don’t have?”

Instead of an answer, Erta gave me a mortified look. Or rather, she looked beyond me.

“The child of man, I have returned what I took unjustly.”

Bound by a frozen chain, tormented spirit kneeled by my feet. Her face… should I be disgusted by what she did to me? Memories flooded my mind and with them came... no, not a feeling. More like a sensation. I felt, dirty. As if covered by some sticky gunk that wouldn’t wash off no matter how hard I scrubbed.

Voices chanting “Death to the thief” echoed through my mind. No, I shall not walk that path. I may be broken but I am no murderer.

“Leave.”

The chains shuttered into a crystal dust, blown away by the raging wind.

“You release me?”

“Your face brings me displeasure. Leave.”

The spirit hissed and rose into the air, changing form in a howling cry.

“Mercy! Mercy from the child of man. Hume of the ice-cold heart, I swear upon the ancient law, our paths shall cross again. Call upon my name and I shall answer!”

She sang in the voice of wind calling out her name. True name. And the names have power in this world. And her name burned within my soul, binding the ruler of the winds under my word.

“Good, good. Hume of the ice-cold heart, learn that name well and call, call upon me even if by worlds apart. And you, you lizard queen…”

Circling round us in a crazy dance, the wind froze just before Erta’s face.

“Beware of the blood red mist and the one who dwells the night for you are not alone… alone… not here…”

With that she vanished, crossing borders between dream and reality. And I stood there gazing at the planet sized orb of mana. Gazed at the storms ravaging its surface.

* Why? No. How did… all this… how?! *

Oh, yeah. Perplexed dragon lady soul stuck inside me, throwing a tantrum, waving her arms at me at the mana at the spirit… at everything in general. Life sure is simpler at an institution. They give you the meds, you swallow and everybody stay happy.

“You remember when I said I have issues? Voices and the like? If you happen to hear one of those just do what I do and ignore them. Oh, and don’t go inside the mist. It crawls.”

She gave me one of those stares reserved for normal people when they discover who are they talking with. Well, I too am supposedly normal. That is what the papers they gave me said. They also said I am not allowed to own a gun or drive a car. Seems like there are all kinds of normal nowadays.

“Look, you have nice teeth and I don’t mind staring at them,”

I used my index finger to lift Erta’s jaw and closed her mouth.

“But I do think we should work on getting out of that cell if we ever want to find your daughter.”

* Human, you shall explain yourself properly when a more suitable time comes. *

“Yes, yes, I will. I can drone on and on about the voices in our head."

I closed my eyes yet again and reopened them back in a body neither mine nor one I particularly felt fond of. I even entertained the idea of asking Erta to change us back since mana no longer posed an issue but I would lose all the abilities this body possessed.

“Bra. We’re getting out of here and we’re getting ourselves a bra. With extra support.”

These bouncy cushions had an unimaginable talent of getting in the way of everything. Running, heh, even walking without holding those flat against my chest seemed impossible.

* To that I can concur. Your back is aching. *

Is it? Well, good thing I can’t feel that. And the burn marks on my arms. And the dislocated ankle. And all those splinters probably stuck in my butt after I slept on that rotting mat. And all those stones cutting my feet.

Good thing I can’t feel all of that.

I can’t quite place when did that happen to my ankle. Had this happened before or after I fainted? Never the less, I grabbed my foot and pulled it back into its rightful place, hoping the healing enchant would do the rest. So far it proved to be one of the most valuable abilities this body possessed. Back home people would kill for this kind of magic. All the world’s deadliest diseases and ailments, cured overnight. I watched as the swelling of my foot went away, and milky white skin color returned within minutes. Perhaps this was the key to immortality?

“Erta are we…”

* No. This body is mortal. I can feel it in its bones, I can see it in its meat.  We can be killed. True, you are made slightly more robust than a normal man but a man’s death you may die. *

* Although your appearance will never change, the tooth of time shall gnaw at your mind and when the mind breaks, nothing more than an empty husk shall remain of this body. Living, breathing. Empty. *

* But fear not, before that may happen, a blade through the heart or a looped off head can stop, most of what walks this earth. *

Talk about positive encouragement. Not that I ever lived a meaningful life. Like a zombie I slept, I walked, I worked and slept again. I existed instead of living.

Hugging my pillows, I got up and again faced the locked door. Old. Black. Bloodied and covered in claw marks. Or perhaps in nail marks. Whatever sorry soul challenged this barrier before, its remains were now part of the cold, unyielding iron. Scratched into it.

“So, how do we open it?”

* The true question is, do we want them opened at this, particular time. *

Heavy concern seeped out from my companion.

“Is someone out there? Guards?”

Maybe they could bring us some food and perhaps something I could whip up into a support structure to free up my hands.

* No. It is quite the opposite. I cannot feel anyone within this floor. Not even within this building. Not even within other buildings next to this one. Not even within the buildings next to those buildings. Not on the streets that crisscross between those buildings. As far away from here as I dare look, not a single living soul remained. Apart from us. *

Deserting a city and letting your prisoners rot. How typical.

* Oh, you are mistaken. This city is not deserted. It is, dead. *

“Dead? How so? With those high walls and spear happy knights? I can’t quite picture it falling so fast. They were prepared and from what we saw, they managed quite well. Unless there are some, wall climbing, fast running skeletons. There is no such thing, right?”

* No, Galen. There is no such thing. The creatures here are far worse than those portrayed in your favorite movies. No. Walking bones are the least of your worries when the dead are concerned. *

* Now, the corridor behind those doors should be safe. Of that I cannot be sure. Apart from their smell and the noise they make, the dead have little else that would betray their presence. *

“Erta, one issue at a time. We’ll come to deal with whatever is there when we get there. Now there is this slab of iron to be opened. So, what do I do?”

* Place your palm on it. *

I raised my arm and pressed my palm tightly against the cold and coarse surface.

“And?”

* And make yourself comfortable because this will take time. Pure iron is known for its magic resistance. *

“What about the wall?”

* We are on the bottom floor of an underground dungeon. Above us are six more floors. We have no idea which wall is a load bearing wall and you want me to start blowing up walls? *

“Nope. I’ll just stand here and hold my hand against those nice and cozy doors while you’ll do your mana fiddling miss dragon.”

* Good boy. You learn fast for a big dolt like you. *

And so, I stood pressing my palm against the iron door, staring at my fingernails.  Long and pointed, claw-like and bloody red.  Straight from the manicure salon.

The witch thought of everything.

A while ago in the lake, I broke or chipped most of my nails as I climbed a rocky bank. They regrew the next day, same as the hairs right now. Speaking of hairs, about half an hour ago I had my scalp burned clean. Now? My hairs were already shoulder length. A drop of blood dripped down my nose. The dragon heart chugged at steady pace sending mana through my body and elevating my blood pressure.  Odd sensation. Ba dum thump thump. Both hearts racing together, like two horses chained to a chariot.

* Please do not move your hand or it will take longer *

I readjusted my palm.

“Erta, I feel something. Something like water flowing down my arm and when it hits the metal it gets very hot. Now… there’s something bright spreading from my palm. Is that the spell you are using? Are you trying to melt through it?”

* Melt through? No. Although I am in deed using quite a bit of mana, you should not be able to feel it, nor see it. Its temperature should not change either. Absolutely not to the point you would feel it. *

She puzzled over something.

* What kind of color is it? *

“Color? I have no idea. Everything is black and white in here with those eyes the witch gave me but the spot around my palm is much brighter than the rest of the door. It is slowly spreading all over it and the heat borders on uncomfortable.”

I hissed.

“Now it’s getting painful.”

I tugged it with my arm but my hand stayed affixed to the metal door against my will.

“Erta it hurts!”

I screamed through tears as needles and fire ravaged my arm.  Braced against the doors I pulled and pulled with all my might but an invisible force held me anchored in my torment.

“Please, make it stop, make it stop!”

* Galen calm down! There is no fire, no pain! You are fine! *

The metal underneath my hand burned so brightly I could see the outline of my bones through my skin and the pain, pain just like that day…

“Enough!”

I cried on my knees, making the door implode in a sudden shriek of torn metal. When the dust settled, only a piece of twisted scrap remained.

Free at last, my body collapsed and curled into a ball, nursing my arm.

“Whatever you did… I beg you, never do that again…”

I whispered before fainting again.

Dosie Whiteclaw

An explosion of wind and fire burned all over my senses while sparks jumped between my ears. My fur roused underneath my armor. Great Goddess, praised be your hand! What power! Even here in this cursed tomb in the bowels of the earth and under all those barriers… Such burst of energy I have not felt since I left my master.

“What’s goin on Dosie? Why did you stop?”

It took me a moment to process the human’s words and to even recognize his face but only one explanation came to my mind of the phenomena I experienced.

“There’s a mage in the city. A powerful one. It was brief but I could feel it. We need to report this!”

I turned around and begun running back through the corridor. Leon’s hand stopped me, erecting a growl in my throat but I surpassed it.

“What about the paladin?”

“Waste of time, you saw the blood. He’s dead by now. Even if by some miracle he survived that, the dead will make short work of him.”

They lost hundreds of people in that maze already. Nobody survived there alone and I would rather shave myself bare rather than follow that trail to my death.

“You sure about that mage? Rarn won’t tolerate any disobedience if we show up empty handed with some fantastic story instead of bringing him the head of that paladin.”

Cursed be my luck, why do I ever find employment with such psychopaths. And Lela warned me not take work from humans. Why oh why have I not canceled at the first opportunity I had? Now it may cost me not only my share but my skin as well.

“I am sure! Vain can confirm that…”

“Vain… is dead…”

Third voice joined us from around the corner. A man in a tattered leather armor walked perched upon the wall. Long red smudge traced all the way he came from and the smell, rot mixed with blood.

“We… lost east corridor…”

The soldier rasped. Each breath he took, came with enormous difficulty. Black lines spread all over his face, radiating from the bite mark on his neck. I stepped back. Humans on their own smelled bad but this roused bile from my stomach.

“Please…”

He slumped beneath the wall.

“I don’t… I can’t…. become one of them.”

The remains of his humanity were steadily leaving his clouded eyes. Oh Goddess, protect me! Let me not rot in this wretched place!

“I bear witness before our forefathers, you have served our cause well. Rejoin unity in peace brother.”

In a swift cut, Leon’s blade separated the soldiers head from its torso.

“We may still be able to seal off this corridor at the next cross-section.”

He made the decision, studying the mapping marks left on the walls by their scouts over a year ago.

“What if someone else comes this way?”

We started running the moment he made his choice.

“You saw him, there is no one else.”

As if to confirm his words, a wailing cry sounded off in a distance.

“Run!”

We run as fast as our armors allowed us, praying nobody else came up with the same idea. Thankfully the enormous stone gate still stood wide open when we reached it although some people were already pushing the wooden winch, driving the gate shut. We zoomed past the entrance and joined them at the second winch.

“What the hell happened down there?!”

“We lost east corridor, the dead are coming!”

The stench of fear assaulted my nostrils. All those mighty humans scared to shit did not bode well for our survival. With the gate only partially closed my ears picked up the wailing cry. With my claws raking against the stone floor I pushed even harder.

“Put your back to it bastards! They are coming!”

Leon screamed at the gathered guards.

“You can hear them?!”

If humans could hear that then we had even less time.

“No, but you can.”

I hissed at that. It’s only been a month yet he could read me like an open scroll. Perhaps he could read most people. Nobody had beat him at cards so far.

“Oh gods, the screamers! The screamers are coming!”

Few guards saw what approached through that tunnel and run away.

“You fucking cowards turn those fucking wheels! Closing this gate is our only chance!”

 An arm wide gap between the wall and the gate still remained. Two men stopped and returned to the winch.

The fur on my back stood up as the cry sounded no more than a spear throw away from us.

“Push! Push!”

Leon screamed, heavy beads of sweat dripped from his forehead. We gave it our all but closing the final gap of no more than few fingers felt like an eternity.  Just when the bolts jumped in sealing the gate, something on the other side collided with the stone, raising dust off the walls. Wailing, hundreds of hands, claws or maybe even bones, raked against the gate.

“Fuck… I almost shat myself.”

Leon collapsed on the floor. Well, he might have kept his dignity but my nose told me someone else did not. Never again. No more working for humans. My fur already came out in patches but this? This?! Never again.

“Come. We have to make that report.”

He patted my lap, a gesture I suffered in silence and got up. Damn humans and their grabby hands. None of this would happen if those idiots had left the artifacts alone. A whole city damned by a moron who picked up a shining trinket, deactivating decades old seal. Then those cultists came, let fleas plagued them, and sealed our fate with that failed ritual. Just a simple escort job he said... fool! I shall claw off his tiny human balls and choke him with them when I find him!

"What's going on? Where's Rarn?"

Leon inquired. Several dozens of men and women stood gathered around a man who’s name I did not know and he apparently been trying to drown himself in wine.

"Rarn's dead. Everyone is dead. It broke the circle. Every fucking one in that chamber died, "

The man flicked his fingers.

"just like that. They were all fucking dead the moment it stepped out of the circle!"

"Bullshit! How come they are dead and you're not!"

"Because I was standing in a fucking corridor, beyond the gate when it happened! There is so much fucked up magic in those walls, some of it resonated and blocked that creature but gods know how long that will hold."

“We need to get the hell out of here!”

“And how do you even want to do that? The city’s been overrun. We open up the entrance and were all dead!”

“We stay here and we’ll die anyway!”

“We’re doomed, we’re doomed…”

Stench of paralyzing fear assaulted my nose. I had to steady myself against the wall, the bile crawling up my throat made me gag. So many unwashed bodies, so much fear, and blood mixed together… the sad remains of my last meal left me.

“You’ll live?”

Leon shoved his water bottle under my nose. I took a sip and cleared my mouth but I did not drink. Food or water, right now nothing would stick in my stomach. Returning the bottle, I gave him a simple nod.

“Come, let’s get out of here. Rarn was insane but his presence kept this bunch in check. Now? I don’t want to die because of some idiot opening a wrong gate. Let’s get some people and supplies while they’re busy bitching and crying.”

We picked up several people on the way, all whom Leon trusted with his life, and headed towards less populated storage corridor. Our numbers were nine people in total. Old sword mercenaries with years of experience and more blood on their swords than the rest of those gathered in the next chamber.

“You sure about that?”

A knight with an eye patch asked. Through the whole conversation they had with Leon, he kept staring at me.

“I trust her. If she says she felt it, she felt it.”

“So, If I understand correctly, we bust out of here, comb the city for that mage and then pray the said mage can get us the fuck out of here? Not exactly the soundest plan I heard in a while.”

“Sure beats waiting here for those monster to get us. I’m in.”

As one body, all nine heads sealed our fate with a nod. We marched without stopping, first to grab some supplies. Nothing much, some dried meat and more water. Few spare blades and new shields. Armed, we climbed the shaft towards the upper levels. Guards were sparse here. Those at the bottom were preoccupied lamenting their life’s impending doom while as we learned, those at the top still lived in blissful ignorance of what transpired just moments ago.

We were ready to take them out, would they resist, but since we were following “very important Rarn’s orders”, the guards simply wished us best of luck and let us through the gate, sealing it off behind us.

Surrounded by the eerie silence of an abandoned corridor, we marched with our weapons in hands towards the exit. If I remembered correctly, this corridor ended inside a temple, just behind the main altar. Hundreds of people died there, the day the town fell.  Passing by an occasional headless corpse, we reached the altar.

“Dosie, it’s your turn now.”

Leon whispered behind my back as we hid in the shade of the main altar. After the battle last week, the quiet of this place made my fur crawl. Slowly, as I did it many times before, I pulled out my medallion. A present from my master. A silver swallow with spread wings hanging on a leather string. The clasp that held it on the sting made it possible for the swallow to spin without any trouble.

Wrapping the string around my palm I let the bird spin freely.

“O kind Goddess of light show your servant thy path. Guide me.”

I focused on the feelings of fire and wind that I felt earlier and watched as the bird continue to spin neither slowing nor stopping. Have I been mistaken? Was my mind tricked? No! I know what I felt. Show me! Show me where to find my prey!

And the swallow froze, its beak pointing at the eastern gate.