Chapter 16
Sorpa ran off into the darkness as Vale and Ara stood watching the scene in terror. Tombstones around them began to shift with the ground as mounds of dirt began erupting and bony hands clawed for the surface.
The Royal Guard had gathered around Vale and formed a barrier, though they looked just as petrified. They held their assorted weapons at the ready. Ara, too, stood with his trelamna staff gripped in his hands. Vale held his bow closely by his side.
As the dead began to rise to their feet, several of the guards gasped aloud. While a few of them looked intact, most were in various levels of decay. The zombie closest to them only had bits of skin left around his eyes and on his hand. What had once been regal clothes were now bits and pieces of molded rags that draped across the deceased. A few random strands of hair clung to the few bits of his head that were not skull and his eyes were long gone, but the empty sockets had a small glow, burning in the back.
The stench was becoming overwhelming as the long dead bodies were exposed to the open air for the first time. For many, the exposure to the air was too much and they began to crumble to dust before they had even gotten to their feet.
“She wants the Royal Guard here so that her army will be newly dead,” Vale realized aloud. “Look at how the ones in the back dematerialize before they even have a chance to stand.”
“That should make the fight easier, right?” Ara asked with a hint of doubt. “They’re much more fragile than living soldiers so they won’t be that much of a threat to us.”
“You’ve forgotten a very important fact,” whispered Prode, who had now come up to stand alongside Vale and Ara. “Sorpa can just keep resurrecting them as they fall, so even if they only kill one soldier in this first wave, they’re winning. Every fallen soldier of ours will only come back as a stronger warrior that is a slave under Sorpa’s power.”
The fact that they were grossly outnumbered only added to the grimness of the situation. As the dead rose, it quickly became obvious that there were a hundred times more of Sorpa’s warriors than there were living members of the Royal Guard.
Soon enough they saw that they were completely surrounded. It was the most frightening moment of Ara’s life. He had never seen so many corpses as long as he’d lived.
Many could barely support themselves on their legs, as there was little more than a tendon or two, holding the bones together. The entire army of deaths skin and clothes were merely a memory of what they had once been.
“Some of them have weapons,” Prode advised. “Apparently we bury the Royal Guard with their trelamnas.”
The disgust in Prode’s voice was mutual for Vale. One would think that burying a member of the Royal Guard with their weaponry, would be a symbol of respect. Clearly, no one had ever foreseen that the demonic necromancer, Sorpa Veneficus, would come to the Woodland Tombs to create an invincible army. But now it was too late.
“Why aren’t they attacking us?” one of the nearby soldiers had whispered to his peer.
Ara looked around and noticed it as well. Sure enough the dead were maneuvering themselves around the Royal Guard, but once there, stood completely still. They had been so concerned with the frightening display, that they had just assumed they were about to be assaulted.
“What do you think they’re doing?” Ara asked. “They’re just standing there, staring at us.”
“They don’t know any better,” Vale realized. “When Forr saw Sorpa in the Regulation Committee Chamber last year, he said that she had to give very direct and specific orders to the zombie that was with her. They will not attack us until she decides to order them to do so.”
As he spoke, even more crypts became unearthed. The Woodland Tombs looked to encompass roughly a square mile and it was becoming obvious that Sorpa Veneficus could only use so much of her power at once, as evidenced by how slowly the resurrection process was taking.
More and more disintegrating skeletons hobbled over to the bottom of the precipice, where Vale, Prode, Ara, and the Royal Guard stood. A few moments more and the ground had stopped shaking. The deceased rose no more.
Ara frantically scanned over the heads of the dead slaves, looking for Sorpa and knowing that she would soon shout her execution commands. Try as he might, he couldn’t find her over the immense crowd until at last she spoke.
“The one thing in life that every living person fears is death,” she shouted from a large crag, opposite them. “It’s frightening to wonder how one will die and when. Therefore, I’ve never been able to figure out why so many are afraid of me. I offer liberation from the fear of death and even so I find myself condemned. You shall all find in your painful deaths that life will prevail in the end. Destroy the living!”
At once the army began to attack. The Royal Guard brandished their trelamnas and waved them malevolently at the zombies. An arrow shot from Vale’s bow, striking a dead warrior square in the chest. The arrow ripped through its back and soared into the distance.
“Royal Guards!” he bellowed. “You are not as mindless as the soulless ones that the necromancer hides behind! Remember your training! Do what must be done and stop Sorpa Veneficus.”
The Woodland Tombs erupted as every member of King Vale’s army roared and charged at the wall of death. They swung their trelamnas at the deceased, who in turn tried to defend themselves with their own weapons and attacked as well. For the most part, however, the lifeless bunch was no match and fell quickly.
“I’m going after Sorpa,” Prode yelled as he ran off into the fray, quickly disappearing in the combination of action and darkness.
“No, Prode!” Vale called. “We had a plan. We’re doing this together.”
“The plan is still on,” Prode called back before disappearing in the crowd.
“He’s going to get himself killed. Ara, we need to forge a path to Sorpa and put an end to this.”
And so Ara rushed into the horde swinging his trelamna over and over at the slow-moving creatures. Vale ran behind, firing from his bow as quickly as he could reload it.
One that must’ve been newly dead came running at Ara, who held his staff low and swung it sharply upward, just in time to catch the corpse under the chin. He flew back, slamming into a tombstone and cracking it right down the middle. A silver arrow, fired from Vale, rocketed through the dead man’s head and he rose no more.
Looking around them, Ara and Vale saw hundreds of corpses making their ways towards them. The Royal Guard were all involved in their own battles, but were trying to keep the zombies from getting too close to their King.
“Where are they all coming from?” gasped Ara. “There are more zombies than there are living people in Eliantar.”
Ara Tataman continued to wield his trelamna with deadly ferocity. As the dead got closer, he separated it in the middle and swung both arms in opposite directions, sending enemies flying in all directions. With the sharp ends he tried to impale the ghouls, but there were far too many coming at them for him to do any more than simply swing with all of his might as King Vale looked around for a different course.
“I can’t keep this up much longer,” Ara called to Vale, clearly showing signs of strain. “More and more are coming and like you said, even if I do kill them, she can just keep bringing them back.”
“There!” Vale yelled. “Look Ara, there is some type of mausoleum out in the fog. I can see dozens of them coming from there. If we can get over there and seal the doors, no more will get out and we may stand a chance here.”
“There are too many around us right now.”
“I can take care of that,” Vale replied.
Ara looked around as Vale closed his eyes and seemed to concentrate hard. Seeing that no more undead could approach, Ara knew Vale was putting a mental barrier around them that the dead could not cross. He held it around them as tightly as he possibly could and then let it go with a snap. The hordes surrounding them flew out hundreds of feet in
all directions.
“Guards!” screamed Vale. “Use your powers. Don’t rely on fighting skills alone. If your power can be used in battle, please use it. We need to use all we have now.”
The two immediately rushed off into the fog and darkness towards the gray catacombs that loomed in the distance. Ara could see through the mist that the monument was grand, yet simple. It was an immense cement block that was several feet taller than him with heavy, metal doors that hung open.
Masses of the cadavers lurched towards Vale and Ara from the opening. Vale fired from his bow at them and mentally sent the rest flying off to the sides until at last he reached one of the heavy doors to the mausoleum.
“I’m sorry that I’m not much help,” Ara sighed. “The trelamna isn’t exactly a projectile weapon and my power is useless in this environment. I’m not sure that I’m the one who should be protecting you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” scolded Vale. “I’ve told you before that you’re perfect for the job and besides that, your power may come in handy by the end. You can’t die, remember?”
“I never said that,” responded Ara. “All I’ve ever said is that I’m more resistant to physical attacks than the average person. I’d rather not test exactly how much it would take to kill me.”
With that a corpse came around from the entryway of the mausoleum and wrapped a rotting arm around Ara’s neck. Vale lifted his arm and the zombie, as if by his own will, released Ara, clutched his own throat and squeezed. Harder and harder he squeezed until at last there was a loud crack and the soldier fell to the ground, lifeless once more.
“A bit brutal,” Ara chuckled.
“We need to get these doors closed before even more get out,” Vale said, his voice filled with fear.
Before either could move they heard the scramble of a multitude of feet coming up the mausoleum steps. Looking at each other in terror, they nodded, both clearly aware of what they must do.
“We do have the high ground, after all,” Vale attempted to be optimistic. “We can do this.”
“Just stay behind me,” Ara cautioned. “You’re not supposed to be running headfirst into battle.”
Vale merely shrugged as Ara ran around the door and swung his trelamna staff hard, knocking back half a dozen denizens of death. Vale leapt behind Ara and saw what looked like hundreds of armored zombies climbing the stairs.
Realizing that that many would merely knock the doors down, Ara called on Vale who began shooting at the coming army. He began to descend the steps, making sure to shoot at the enemies on the front line, obviously hoping they would knock down those behind them as well.
“Be careful with that thing,” Ara warned, going several steps ahead and stabbing at as many of the cadavers as he could at one time.
It was dark and Ara began to wonder how deep these catacombs went since after twenty steps, they still could see no floor at the end of the staircase. The dead kept on coming which made it even more difficult to see any light at the end of this tunnel of death.
Hearing a noise behind him, he turned to see a dozen zombies entering the tomb from up top. It hadn’t even occurred to him that the danger from above would keep coming even though they were in the mausoleum.
“Ara, they’re coming from both sides!” yelled Vale.
“See what you can do with those new ones. I’m just a little busy here,” he responded, as he slashed and stabbed endless amounts of the retched living dead combatants.
Vale fired his bow at the soulless warriors coming down the stairs while Ara continued to deflect the masses climbing them. When he shot one of them in the leg, it collapsed and began to tumble down the steps. Vale tried to move out of the way but was struck and began to fall as well. When Ara felt Vale slam into him, he knew they may be in trouble.
They slid backwards down the hard, stone steps taking down countless zombies with them. Ara felt an invisible force slowing him and knew Vale was saving them both. He had concentrated his energy and brought himself and Ara to a halt and lifted them both to their feet. Then with a concussive force, he sent the remaining enemies hurling down the steps at breakneck speed, literally. They could hear bones and necks snapping as they hit the hard ground far below.
“Good gods!” exclaimed Ara, turning to face Vale. “You can be really violent with those powers. Honestly, I don’t know why you even bother carrying that bow along with you.”
Before Vale could respond, a blanket of darkness covered the starlight that shone in through the entryway. Looking towards the doors they could see a large figure standing in the archway.
“Opo,” Vale gasped.
Ara looked again and Vale was right. There standing just a few yards above them was Vale’s former bodyguard, Opo Scoloos. He looked nearly the same as he had before he was shot down less than 40 days ago. He wore the same dramatic armor that he had that day.
In his hands he clutched a long trelamna menacingly. He stared with empty eyes at Ara and Vale and began to step very stiffly down the steps.
“Vale, if he gets down here we’ll be cornered,” Ara warned. “Use your power to knock him out of here. I will face him on ground level and you can seal off the mausoleum.”
A second later, an invisible force picked Opo’s corpse up and launched it clear out of the mausoleum. Ara chased after it, running hard up the stairs and into the open. Vale followed, but paused for a moment. The unmistakable sounds of moans could be heard from far below.
With that he jolted up the steps, two at a time, until he too was back on the grassy land. Turning back to the doors, he and Ara grabbed onto a metal door and pushed with all of their might. The heavy doors slammed shut and let out a groan. No one would be getting in or out of that mausoleum for a very long time.
Ara turned and looked around the war torn cemetery for Opo, but couldn’t see him amongst the chaos. Vale must’ve thrown him much further than he intended. All around him there were members of the Royal Guard fighting the dead. By rough estimate it appeared as though for each Royal Guard, there were four zombies. However, seeing one of his soldiers engulf several enemies in a massive flame that rose from the ground, put Ara at ease. At least they were using their special abilities as well.
Distracted by this, Ara was suddenly knocked to the ground from behind. Spinning around quickly, he saw Kally, the soldier who had lead them to the Woodland Tombs, battling a horde of zombies. He had been knocked back by his attackers and stumbled right into Ara. He was easily outnumbered by eight or nine of the rotten corpses.
Vale ran up and aimed his bow and arrow at one of the closest creatures, but a sharp blow to Kally from another one caused him to misfire. In spite of having his trelamna, Kally was no match for the pack. Several of them carried trelamnas as well which was making it difficult for him to defend himself.
Regaining his footing, Kally swung hard in all directions. One zombie lost his head and collapsed as his cranium went flying off into the night. Another was cut neatly in half, right at the waist. The two halves fell to the ground in a pile. The torso immediately began to crawl at Kally while the legs kicked the air furiously.
Kally stared at the torso with his trelamna held high, ready to stab down. He didn’t see another corpse coming at him with his own trelamna staff poised to strike and Ara hadn’t gotten to his feet quickly enough to help.
The blade went into Kally’s chest and he let out a slight gasp. Vale screamed as he watched the young man’s eyes roll back in his head and he dropped his weapon, falling to the hard ground, lifeless.
Ara watched as Vale mentally grabbed onto the zombies’ trelamnas and lifted them out of their owners’ hands. Redirecting them, he lunged them at the remaining dead, impaling them through their chests. The trelamnas soared through the air, stabbing into several trees, pinning the zombies to the arbors.
Turning back around, Ara could see Sorpa in the distance, standing on top of her large stone wall. There crumb
led in a heap at her feet, lay Prode. Vale let out a slight gasp, next to him, realizing that his brother had fallen.
Was he badly hurt? Was he even alive anymore or had she already taken the liberty of killing him? He didn’t have much to ponder on this matter as Sorpa Veneficus, clearly thrilled with the slaughter she was witnessing, stepped over Prode and began to speak.
“Royal Guard, it certainly appears as though you’re beating death itself,” she announced with glee. “From where I stand, it looks like you’ve only lost a few of your men, which is to be commended based on how outnumbered you are. Let’s even up the playing field.”
She raised her hands and let out a deep, menacing growl. All across the Woodland Tombs, the fallen dead began to reanimate once more. They stirred slowly in their piles and then rigidly climbed to their feet again.
“I think you’ll soon find that it may just be easier to give in to death,” Sorpa’s voice cracked with delight. “After all, you certainly can’t keep this up forever. You must be getting tired by now, but my army never tires and will only grow in numbers. Feel free to surrender to your impending doom.”
Ara’s stomach turned as he listened. No one but Prode could even seem to get close to Sorpa to put an end to her, and he was down. How could they ever hope to defeat a force that was undefeatable?
“Ara!” Vale yelled and Ara turned, instinctively with his trelamna up high.
It clashed sharply against Opo Scoloos’s. The man was strong, but so was Ara after years of hunting and every time Opo made an attack, Ara countered back as strongly as he could.
They had been at this for several minutes, with no sign of either being more superior. Ara fueled his energy by berating the dead Opo, even though he knew Opo couldn’t hear it.
“It takes a lot of guts for you to even show your face to King Vale,” he roared slashing at Opo’s mid-section, who blocked the assault. “You betrayed Queen Jenneka and you failed to protect Vale. You’re a traitor! You’re better off dead than alive for the wrath you’ve incurred.”
Ara was well aware that Opo was no longer himself, but rather a soulless slave to Sorpa. Still, it gave him peace of mind to finally say all of the things to his predecessor that he’d been dying to say.
He was realizing more and more why it was so important to Veneficus to control a “freshly dead army.” Most of the other warriors from the Woodland Tombs were slow and collapsed after one solid strike. Opo, on the other hand who hadn’t been dead for very long, still retained all of his strength, as well as his superior fighting skills.
A surprise kick to Ara’s stomach knocked him back a few steps. He hunched over in pain as the dead Opo held his trelamna high. Ara quickly jumped to the side as the spear struck the ground. Opo tried in vain to pull his triple-bladed weapon from the ground, but could not.
Ara charged at Opo and leapt into the air. He landed a solid kick right in the small of Opo’s back, which dislodged his trelamna and knocked him to the ground. The loud crack that rang through the night made Ara think that surely Opo was down for the count. He realized all too quickly that he was wrong when Opo rose to his feet once more.
“You’re persistent! Why won’t you stay dead?”
Ara became more and more frustrated knowing that no matter how infuriated he became, Opo remained completely emotionless and unaware. He didn’t recognize that he was being attacked or ridiculed. All he knew was that his sole purpose was to kill Ara Tataman.
Ara stomped towards Opo, who slid his staff apart into two separate weapons. With one quick move he slashed the blades in an upward arc, nearly stabbing Ara in the chin. Ara jumped back and threw his staff at Opo, who moved to the side just a moment too late. The blade sliced up his arm as it sailed by. Opo, however, was unaware of the attack and clearly felt no pain. No blood even came from the fresh wound. And now Ara was left defenseless to the zombie warlord.
To members of the Royal Guard who caught a glimpse as they fought their own battles, the clash was brilliant. Two men, both holding the same titles that looked fairly matched, locked in a fight to the death. Both the same height and build with the same armor. They also seemed to share equal abilities when it came to wielding their weaponry. The irony was flawless. Unfortunately, most were too busy with their own duels to take notice to the battle of the bodyguards.
Ara was wary as he had now lost his trelamna and Opo was coming towards him. He made a quick dash to get around Opo, but was too slow. Opo swung one of his trelamna sticks at Ara and caught his side.
Ara fell to the ground and watched as the blood poured profusely onto the grass. He looked up at Opo who stared down for a moment, before turning to walk away. His eyes spotted up and everything turned to black as he waited for death.
He blinked and saw that the spots had gone as well as the pain. He sat up quickly and looked at his side, soaked in blood. His skin was already starting to repair itself. Never before had he ever imagined that he was this invulnerable. This was far beyond the advanced healing he thought he possessed. He should have bled out by now, but his wound had completely closed.
Jumping to his feet and grabbing his trelamna, he saw that Opo had realized his folly and was coming back. He swung his staff hard at the dead man, who easily blocked the strike. Rather than dwell on this, Ara repeatedly clashed his trelamna over and over again against Opo’s weapon. Opo had not anticipated this fast, brutal attack and lost his balance, the trelamna flying from his hands.
He stopped and stared at Ara for a moment, face completely blank. For a split second Ara felt bad for the once noble warrior who had been so easily corrupted and now existed only as a servant. The sympathy was lost when Opo punched Ara square in the chest sending him back several yards, slamming him into a tree.
The force would’ve literally killed anyone, but Ara rose after a few seconds. Vale had been right; his invulnerability had come in handy. He had been under the impression that Sorpa’s zombies no longer possessed their special abilities. Clearly that was relative to how long they’d been dead before they were brought back.
He rubbed his eyes in time to see Opo stalking towards him once more, fists clenched. Before he had time to deliver another crushing blow, Ara raised his trelamna and Opo walked right into it, the points sticking out through his back.
A soft sigh came from Opo’s lips as his head slumped and he returned to death once more. Ara retracted his trelamna and ran back towards the Tombs to find that all of the soldiers were standing still with the respective zombies that they’d been fighting, standing nearby and watching them closely.
“Very impressive!” called Sorpa. “Not impressive enough to win the battle, however.”
Ara looked up to her crag and gasped. Standing alongside Sorpa, next to Prode in a heap, stood King Vale held at knifepoint. But, who was that woman holding the knife to his throat? Why wasn’t Vale fighting them? He should at least be defending himself.
And that’s when he saw the elegant dress, the flowing, long hair, and the brilliant crown atop the woman’s head. His heart broke for Vale as he realized what evil Sorpa had done. There, standing next to Sorpa Veneficus was Queen Jenneka with the glinting knife in her hand.
The Woodland Tombs of Eliantar Page 19
