The cloying sense of death came thicker to Aedmorn as he made his watchful way down the stairs, lamp held aloft in one hand and spear gripped tight in the other. Ivkhara stalked down, each step silent, cautious, her very posture as one on edge, ready to pounce, sword at the ready.
Into the next chamber they made their wary way, one much as any other that they had seen before. A subtle difference pervaded the one they found themselves in though, for in all before there had been silence, total but for what sound they carried with them. Here, though, they could hear other noises, a low rumbling sound, almost a murmur, of movement, subtle and soft, but all brought together it made a noise unmistakable.
So too was the stillness broken, for in their various niches Aedmor could see the twitch of corpses in a state of unease. It was just such movement that made the noises they perceived, of the rustle and scrap of cloth and skin upon stone, of the clank of shifting jewellery or the disturbance of pottery.
“Has it long been like this?” he asked.
“No more than two moons back it started, at least that I first saw, further down. Slowly it has spread ever upwards, from the deepest parts. At first it was a twitch of the corpses such as this, but the longer it has taken them, the stronger it has become. Those in the lower depths have begun to walk.”
A frown for a moment creased Aedmorn’s face and he stepped closer yet to one of the corpses, that of a man, his grey hair and beard still splendid to behold. The body twitched as he neared, the whole body jerking and shuddering, as if reacting to his presence. A stench emanated from it, not one of a physical nature, but instead a spiritual one, a sickly stench that sought to cling to him, to wrap itself around his essence, his being. He could taste it upon the air, a stench of death, and more, a darkness that went beyond death, to twist and pervert it. It assailed him, stomach twisting in its insidiousness, and he senses that it was almost seeking him out, as if driven by a will of its own, a purpose corrupt and alien in nature.
He stepped back, his face twisting in a look of disgust. “Fah!” he spat, “No accident this is, for I divine that this has been set in motion, for means dark of purpose.”
A look fell to behold suffused Ivkhara’s face, and her eyes blazed like thunder that roiled and crashed through a dark and stormy sky. “Those that dare mar the sanctity of my people shall surely pay,” she swore. “By Az-Ashar’s Beard, it shall be so.”
So searing her passion, so grim her demeanour that Aedmorn could not help but to take a half step back from her, lest he be caught up in her wrath.
“Take me to where this all began,” said Aedmorn, “And we shall see what we can to end this travesty wrought upon your people.”
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Ivkarha nodded, and stalked off, her face stern, lips pressed tight together. Onwards and downwards she strode, her passage like the raging storm that could not be halted. All about them the bodies of the long dead twitched and shuddered, and the noise grew ever louder. Like plugging into a foetid pit of putrescence it felt to Aedmorn, an unseen filth that coated him, soaked into his pores, into the very fibre of his being. He found himself holding his breath, teeth clenched tight shut, trying to avoid breathing air that to him felt as if it clawed at his throat. He yearned to escape the pit of darkness into which they descended, yet knew that it could not be. Son on he pressed, focusing attention on the way ahead, trying to force aside the sickly sensation that caressed him, focused on the strident passage of Ivkhara as she led the way.
The bodies no longer merely twitched in the lower levels, for now they had begun to move, heads lolling, hands stretching forth, fingers clawed. A few even had toppled from the niches where they had been laid to rest, hands groping, seeking to drag themselves forward.
Around the bodies they had to step with care, and Ivkhara’s eyes flashed dark at the sight of each one, her knuckles white from the fearsome grip she maintained in the hilt of her sword.
A low moan echoed through the chambers and halls, a pitiful sound, the cry of the lost and damned. Ivkhara’s footsteps halted and her eyes widened, surprise writ large upon her face.
“You have not heard that before?” Aedmorn asked of her. She shook her head, dark hair swaying.
“Nay, ever before they have been silent.” Her voice quavered for a moment, just a moment, yet in it Aedmorn felt the depths of her pain and her suffering, of one bereft of people now reduced to watching them succumb to the darkness. “We are near now,” she added, all hints of her emotions buried beneath steel and fire.
One last stairwell they descended, and it was as if into the very bowels of darkness they fell, for the air around Aedmorn felt as if it constricted him and the light from their lamps dimmed. Invisible hands seem to grope at him, restraining him and each step was a battle, forcing himself forward as if wading upstream into a raging torrent.
A body staggered towards them, head slumped forward, hands blindly clawing their way.
“Az-Ashar’s Breath!” Ivkhara cursed, dancing aside, silvered sword in hand. The body staggered on by, still groping, still feeling. With force of will and gritted teeth, Aedmorn surged against the impeding touch, out of the way of the shuffling corpse, just as it lunged towards where he had been. Against the wall it crashed, reeled and toppled over, a low moan coming from it. Once more it tried to rise, limbs flailing in the effort.
Ivkhara backed away, distress now evident. “I can’t,” she began, the tip of her sword dropping away. “They are my people. I can do nothing against them.”
“I understand,” Aedmorm told her, “Yet it may come to be that it is them or us, and if we are to give any of them rest, we must steel ourselves for what may be required.”
“Even knowing that, it is still no easy thing.” She pointed with her sword at a neighbouring chamber. “It is there that I first detected this foulness. If you can do anything, it must be in there.” Thus said, she took a deep breath and stalked forth to meet what devilry might lay beyond, nought but determination showing upon her features. And Aedmorn went with her, to face the dark.