by Pirateaba
“Broken chairs, metal—I can’t tell. It’s been too long and everything is dust now. This was once some kind of temple, perhaps? A massive one.”
“It’s big. But I could see that. Strange though—all these rooms must be living quarters, kitchens, storage rooms, and so on. This is practically a city within this one building. How come no one knew of this before?”
“It must be ancient. Far older than Liscor. I can’t imagine how they built all of this—and out of stone! They must have had hundreds, thousands of workers or some kind of powerful magic.”
Ceria nodded as she stepped around a collapsed table that might have once served twenty guests at a time.
“Another time. Another world. They knew how to build such things back then. Is this one of the Walled Cities, perhaps, only forgotten by time? Or something like Liscor?”
“The design of the gates certainly suggest that. Of course, you need a roof or some good magic when the rainy season comes. I suppose it could have been built by my people.”
Olesm looked around and shuddered. Ceria knew how he felt. She wasn’t comfortable with the dark, echoing rooms any more than he was. For all they were spacious, she felt like she was cramped, confined. She could handle it, but Olesm was nervous and chatty, and she didn’t mind talking to them.
It wasn’t as if the other adventurers weren’t talking. The scouts and leading adventurers were silent as they walked up ahead, but the main group of adventurers kept quiet conversations going, joking, talking idly, anything to keep the tension at bay.
“So—I’m with your group. The ah, Horns of Hammerad? I’m afraid I don’t know much about it. Liscor didn’t get many high-profile adventurers before this.”
Ceria raised her eyebrows.
“High profile? Hear that Gerial? I wish we were that famous.”
Gerial looked back and smiled wryly at Ceria. Olesm was confused.
“But you’re Silver-rank adventurers. I just assumed—”
“Ceria is just teasing you Mister ah, Olesm. We are quite well known locally. It’s just that we’re hardly the only Silver-rank teams in the north. And if you count the coastal cities—well, there are a number of Gold-rank teams and adventurers up there and we can hardly compare.”
“Well you seem quite competent to me. What does your group do? Aside from exploring ruins, that is.”
Gerial smiled.
“We specialize in monster slaying. If a troublesome group of monsters is infesting a region we’re usually one of the first groups who answer the call. The Horns of Hammerad are a close-combat group. We close in and smash the enemy while our mages provide backup. Gerald’s Pride group is the same.”
“Oh I see, I see. And the Silver Spears?”
“Good at defense, coordination, strategy; a solid team. The Flawless Flight on the other hand do a lot of scouting work and hunting troublesome monsters that hide.”
“And the—the Circle? They were all mages. Is that usual?”
Ceria shrugged.
“Not usual, but not unusual either. They take on almost all requests. They’ve got a bad reputation, though.”
“Why is that?”
Ceria grinned.
“Because they run away quite often.”
A mage from further up ahead had heard that. He turned and flicked up a middle finger at Ceria and she grinned and waved at him in apology. Mollified, the mage went back to his conversation.
Lowering her voice so she wouldn’t be heard, Gerial murmured to Olesm.
“If they’re out of mana there’s not much they can do. So yes, often Lir’s team will abandon a mission if something makes them use up all their potions or if the enemy is more numerous or stronger than they anticipated.”
“Oh. I see.”
“They do good work most of the time, though.”
Gerial nodded in agreement.
“But they do have their own style. They prioritize all contracts with anything magically related. It’s their specialty, just like how Cervial has a lot of archers in his group and Yvlon’s team wears silver armor.”
“Do the Horns of Hammerad have a, um, noticeable feature?”
“…Not so much a feature as a code. We don’t break our promises. We don’t retreat and if we have to abandon a job, we repay all we took in advance.”
Gerial murmured into his mustache.
“‘Death before dishonor.’”
“Really?”
“It’s what we live by. Our leader is Calruz. And you know what Minotaurs are like.”
“Oh. Of course.”
Olesm was silent for a while longer as the adventures trooped onwards. They reached some kind of audience chamber with a large altar at the front. Ceria pointed while the Captains called for a short break.
“Look at that. You can tell this place is old because they have a place to pray.”
Yvlon nodded.
“True. What do you make of it, Olesm? Was this place built by your people?”
He could only shrug helplessly.
“It certainly seems like it. How else would you explain it being so close to Liscor?”
“And if it was, would they have much treasure?”
Every adventurer in earshot stared expectantly at Olesm. He thought about it and nodded.
“Oh, most definitely. We love collecting things. We are descended from dragons, after all. IF this place was at all important I’d expect some sort of vault.”
That made the other adventurers perk up, including Gerial and Ceria. It was always welcome to know their efforts might not be in vain.
They were about to keep moving when a loud voice cut through the hushed conversations.
“Contact.”
The word made every adventurer’s head snap up as they scanned for any sign of movement. But the person who had spoken was passing a message from further ahead.
“One of our scouts found a nest of Shield Spiders. The damn things must be infesting this place already.”
Several adventurers swore, but Gerald hushed them with a slashing movement on one hand.
“Shut it. How big’s the nest?”
“Not big. Around eight adults and a few dozen children that we could see. Perhaps there’s more in another room, but they’ve only webbed up one so far.”
Gerald looked at Olesm.
“You’re the local expert. Any advice?”
The Drake nodded.
“Shield Spiders are weak against fire. Two mages with armed warriors holding shields should be able to burn the nest if they know the [Fireball] spell or equivalents.”
Yvlon nodded.
“My team can do the fighting. Lir, if you want to send some of your mages…?”
“Done.”
The scout led a detachment of nine adventurers off as the others prepared to move. That was the benefit of such a large group. They could keep going even if they ran into smaller groups of monsters.
Their path took them onwards, through rooms in a winding pattern. If the ruins had been fully excavated, they could have made much faster progress, but the diggers and adventurers who had come before them had dug randomly and created a maze within the maze. More than once the expedition had to halt to dig out a collapsed tunnel again.
Cervial shook his head as they passed by a corridor blocked off by a wall of dirt.
“I don’t like these unexcavated areas. Something could tunnel their way around and ambush us.”
Yvlon paused and considered the situation. Lir tapped her on the shoulder and gestured to his wand.
“We don’t have time to block everything off. How about this? We’ll set wards that will go off if something crosses them.”
She looked at Calruz and Gerald. They nodded in agreement.
“That sounds good. Do it.”
They left a few mages and warriors to set wards while they moved on. After about thirty minutes they’d reached a long, long corridor wide enough for eight people to walk across when they heard a shout.
This time they saw a woman running back towards them. She was a [Thief], and her footfalls barely made any sound despite her rapid approach. She stopped and gasped out her message, panting as more scouts ran back towards them.
“Zombies. At least thirty of them up ahead. Probably more. They’re coming from below.”
This time every adventurer drew their weapon. Olesm fumbled as he unsheathed his sword and the Captains glanced at each other.
“My team will take the front—”
“Let my archers soften them up first. We can take down at least half in this open area. Save you the energy.”
“Good. Try not to use magic just yet if we can help it. Form up!”
Calruz turned and began ordering the Horns of Hammerad while the other captains did the same. The adventurers somehow understood what they were meant to do and moved smoothly into position, but Olesm blinked around, confused.
“Over here.”
Ceria tugged him into line behind the warriors, who’d formed a wall of shields and weapons staggered so that they could fall back if need be. The mages waited in the back, ready to cast if need be while Cervial took his team to the front.
Eight adventurers, including him set arrows to a collection of bows. Several longbows and shortbow, but the Dwarven crossbow and two slings as well. Cervial held the crossbow, sighting down it calmly as he knelt with one knee raised to steady the weapon.
He raised a hand. The adventurers, already silent, made no sound.
“I hear them.”
Ceria did too. And soon every human could hear the rapid, thudding footfalls echoing in the distance. It was faint, but growing louder.
Olesm was shaking with nervous energy. Ceria wanted to calm him down, buit she was afraid touching him would make him shout. So she waited.
As the sounds grew louder, she also heard faint moaning and growling in the distance. The zombeis were making noise. She saw Cervial’s eyes narrow, and he swung the crossbow up.
The bolt discharged with a loud thunk and two of the adventurers with longbows shot as well. Ceria couldn’t even see that far into the darkness, but Cervial nodded.
“Got one.”
One of his team nodded and the other shook his head.
“Hit one in the leg.”
“Chest shot. Didn’t even slow him.”
They reloaded as they spoke. In a few seconds their bows flew up and they fired again. They did this twice more before the zombies came into view of the adventurer’s light.
Corpses ran at the adventurers. Corpses given life. They were not human. They couldn’t be, with parts of them rotted so that intestines and bone poked through their dead skin. They were also dark, some green with fungi and rot, but others blue or black in death, their skin leaking bits of their liquefied innards.
Olesm gulped as they came into view, but Cervial’s team didn’t hesitate. Every weapon moved up and they began shooting, the slings whirling heavy stones into the eyes and faces of the zombies as the arrows cut down others.
A bolt from the black crossbow punched through the heads of two zombies, tripping up their companions as they ran at the adventurers.
Ten zombies fell. Then twelve. Sixteen. As they were twenty feet away Cervial surged to his feet.
“Back!”
The rest of his team rushed through the gaps in the line the warriors had left for them. Instantly, the adventurers in front closed ranks. The zombies ran at them, biting, mouths gaping obscenely wide as they lunged at the adventurers.
Calruz was up in front next to Gerald. Ceria saw him raise his axe, but not to swing as a zombie ran at him. He just leveled the head at the zombie and extended his arm.
The sharp blades of the battleaxe crashed into the zombie’s chest, flipping it backwards. It fell back and Calruz brought his axe casually down on its ribcage. Bone broke and the zombie lay still.
The other adventurers met the undead charge in the same way. Shields rammed into the frail dead bodies, pushing them back while swords, axes, and maces clubbed them down, bashing in their skulls, severing their heads. It wasn’t even close to a fair fight. The adventurers worked in tandem, outnumbered the dead, and had Levels and Skills. The dead only had rotting bodies, and soon, not even that.
After the last crawling zombie had been dispatched, Yvlon looked around.
“Anyone hurt? Any injuries?”
There were none. She went to inspect the corpses along with Cervial and a few of their scouts.
“Hm. Look at this, Yvlon.”
Cervial showed her a few of the corpses. Yvlon saw ruined human faces, their flesh reeking from their rapid decay. She coughed and a mage murmured a spell.
“[Cleansing Wind].”
“Thank you. What am I supposed to see, Cervial?”
“This. They’re mostly human, these zombies. And freshly dead. If they weren’t, we’d be fighting skeletons.”
“More of the adventurers who first came in?”
“Very likely. But see behind them—?”
Yvlon saw.
“Drakes. Badly rotted, too.”
“But not too badly to be useless. That looks like a preservation spell, to me. Something is keeping them from rotting.”
“Or restoring their flesh. Wonderful. Do you think the main threat will be the undead, then?”
“They don’t play nice with other monsters. That would be my best bet.”
Cervial grinned, his teeth illuminated in the torchlight. But then his smile faded.
“Still, that was quite a group. Not exactly a small welcoming committee, was it?”
Yvlon shook her head.
“For our first real encounter in here? I’d say it was light enough.”
The other man nodded, but he still seemed trouble.
“Zombies can sense the living. It’s only natural they’d feel so many of us and come running.”
He paused.
“Still. That was a bit too convenient and quick for my liking. Normally I’d expect them to be spread out as they sense us and follow each other, not rush all at once like that.”
The armored woman paused, thinking.
“Could be coincidence.”
“Perhaps not.”
She nodded to the scouts.
“Go wary.”
They nodded, and disappeared up ahead, their lights rapidly fading in the blackness.
Ceria found Olesm was shaking, but not with fear after the short battle. He stared at the dead, gagging slightly until the magic wind took away the stench.
“That was so—so impressive! There were so many, but you took care of them like—like—”
The Drake tried to snap shaking fingers. Ceria smiled.
“I had nothing to do with it. Good old fashioned metal did the trick here. Which is a good thing. If we had to start casting over a few undead we’d be in trouble.”
“Ceria!”
The half-Elf glanced up. Yvlon was waving her to the front next to the other Captains. She also gestured at Olesm.
Ceria approached, Olesm trailing behind her. Yvlon smiled at both.
“Not a bad start, is it? We work well together.”
“Still, that was a lot of undead. Should we expect more up ahead?”
“More than likely. We were debating using your [Illumination] spell now, Ceria. What do you think?”
Ceria hesitated.
“I can’t use the lights to illuminate where I haven’t been. I could use it to light the way back but—I think I should wait. It’s not like we’re so far in that it’s hard to find out way back, and when I do cast it, it should be at a place we mean to hold in for a longer time.”
Yvlon nodded.
“When we make camp, then. We’ll find a spot. But we’re hours from needing rest so we’ll hold off.”
“Are we moving forwards now?”
“Almost. The scouts are saying this corridor begins to slope downwards. This is the place that leads to the second floor.”
“That’s
where all the other teams disappeared.”
“Exactly. We’re going in ready for anything.”
Gerald and Calruz were indeed bringing all of the best adventurers to the front, creating a wall of flesh and metal while the mages and adventurers carrying ranged weapons followed behind.
“I’m sticking in the middle while Cervial’s team covers the rear. Will you walk with me, Ceria?”
“I’d be delighted to. Olesm?”
“Oh, I’d be honored. And they’re moving. Should we—?”
Yvlon and Ceria walked forwards and took their position in the middle of the group. The Silver Spears spaced themselves out across the corridor, forming a second line that could hold if the front had to fall back.
The human adventurer talked quietly with Ceria while Olesm lagged behind them, awkwardly chatting up Sostrom as they walked down the corridor’s increasing slope.
“I’m glad you aren’t angry at me.”
“Angry? Why would I be?”
Yvlon smiled ruefully.
“I feel like I had a lot to do with the—incident involving Ryoka earlier. I truly didn’t mean to cause that much trouble.”
Ceria shrugged awkwardly.
“That was mostly her fault.”
“Even so. My aunt had mentioned how much she wanted to meet this Runner, and I couldn’t fathom why. I wanted to test her, but not push her over the edge.”
“That girl is all edge. I don’t understand why Magnolia—well, there are certain things that strike me about her. But why the lady of Reinhart would spend so much effort on her is beyond me.”
“Beyond me as well, I’m afraid. My aunt does not confide in anyone, and she has—eclectic interests. But I do hope Ryoka doesn’t do anything rash. Once you fall into my aunt’s machinations it is hard to break free.”
Ceria was surprised. She looked at Yvlon in the flickering light and saw the adventurer smile.
“You don’t want to capture Ryoka to gain favor with her?”
“Let’s just say I admire her independence, if not her self-control. Besides, it’s bad if Aunt Magnolia gets everything she wants. Hold up, what’s this?”
