Alaric Swifthand

by Steve Lazarowitz

  Within seconds, he started to look more like a lizard. It wasn’t that his facial features changed, but rather his whole demeanor began to seem more reptilian. Then, before I knew what was going to happen, he dropped to the ground and ran across it on all fours, faster than I’d have believed possible. When he reached the wall, he just kept going straight. A few seconds later, he reached the top.

  Almost immediately, he seemed himself again. He looked around, then back at us. “Sorry Alaric. There’s no sign of Aynslae.”

  I dropped my head. The suggestion that had put her in danger had been mine. If anything happened to her, it was my fault. She certainly hadn’t gone off on her own by choice. I felt a pang of sorrow and perhaps self-pity as well. I was so engulfed in feelings of guilt, I didn’t realize they were waiting for me until Drake touched my arm.

  Against the wall dangled a rope, one end of which I could only assume was being held by Tindal. Fear flicked momentarily through my mind. Tindal and I weren’t exactly on great terms. I chastised myself. Tindal would never do anything to deliberately hurt me. I forced down the feeling and started to climb, though perhaps more quickly than I normally would have.

  When I reached the top, I looked around, hoping to find some clue as to what might have happened to Aynslae. Even while I helped Tindal with the rope, my full attention wasn’t on the task. I stumbled a bit when Kharrah began her climb, but managed to catch myself and hold the rope until she was high enough to grab the edge and pull herself over.

  With her help, it wasn’t long before all of us stood together, looking for signs of Aynslae’s whereabouts. Unfortunately, there were none. It was as if the Caverns of Longing had swallowed her without a trace.

  “Okay,” said Tindal, finally. “Now what do we do?”

  “We find the Boots of Darkening and we leave this place,” said Drake.

  “Without Aynslae?” I asked. “I don’t think so.”

  “Alaric, you made a pledge to Aynslae’s safety and I respect that. But I am here for one thing only; the Boots of Darkening. Once I have them, we are gone. To do anything else would be foolishness.”

  I turned to face Tindal. “And what about you?”

  “Me? I didn’t want to come here in the first place. I’m gone with the giants. Honestly Alaric, if Aynslae is still alive, how are you going to find her?”

  I thought about it. How indeed? We were trapped in a necromancer’s lair, and though we had escaped his “hospitality”, it wasn’t likely we’d be allowed to leave this place without a fight. Nor was it as if I owed her anything. I had saved her life, but wasn’t responsible for it. At least, if I kept saying it, I might at some point believe it.

  I had a realization then that fairly stunned me. I wasn’t doing it for Aynslae, or even myself. I was doing it for a woman, who was possibly in as much danger as Aynslae, that I’d allowed to walk out of my life. I was doing it for Theona. If I couldn’t save her, at least, maybe I could rescue another in her stead.

  “I don’t know how I’m going to find her, but I have to try or die in the attempt.”

  “Brave words,” said Drake. “You’re a great man, Alaric. It is an honor to share this adventure with you.”

  “How touching,” said a voice from behind us.

  I whirled, pulling the Sword of Truth. Tindal had already drawn his blade and moved to stand beside me. Before us stood the somewhat decayed man who had brought us to the pit and behind him, the entourage that seemed to accompany him everywhere.

  The skeletal warriors moved forward brandishing weapons. I thought quickly.

  “I thought your master didn’t want his new servants damaged.”

  At those words the skeletons paused in their advance and their leader looked uncertain. Then he smiled broadly. “That’s a chance I’ll just have to take.”

  Without another word, they attacked.

  It wasn’t a pretty battle, even for me. The skeletons spread out to surround us. We formed a circle of our own, though a small one to be sure. I had my sword and shield, Tindal his sword and the giants were all armed with large maces. They had swords on their belts as well, but for some reason, chose not to draw them.

  At first I fended the undead off, but couldn’t seem to do any damage. Tindal, the only one of our party I could see from my vantage, seemed to be having similar problems. I couldn’t figure out why, until the Sword of Truth spoke.

  “Use your shield Alaric! You’re trying to cut bone. These creatures are not going to bleed to death.”

  It was suddenly obvious why the giants were using maces instead of swords.

  “Use the flat of your blade,” I yelled to Tindal. Then I changed my own strategy.

  I sheathed my blade and used the Shield of Reckoning to both block and attack. Almost immediately, I crushed one of my foes. I threw my head back and screamed with battle lust. I knew then they could be killed. The knowledge nearly cost me my life.

  I allowed the feeling of triumph to rule my actions and broke from the circle we had formed. Almost immediately, I was surrounded by skeletons; so many I was completely unable to guard my back. I whirled and struck with my shield, but in the end, I was not up to the task.

  Fortunately, they struck with the flats of their weapons. I felt a blow to my right arm and then the back of my left leg. I crumpled to the ground. They closed in around me, until I couldn’t even see my allies.

  They continued to lash out at me, even after I’d dropped the shield and curled into a ball. I didn’t lose consciousness, though I kept wishing I would. The attack seemed to last forever, until there was no part of my body that wasn’t bruised or bleeding. It was only after the attack stopped that I managed to pry an eye open to see what was happening.

  The battle continued. A lot of skeletons had been relegated to piles of bone. One of the giants was missing, but the blood in my eyes obscured the scene just enough to make it hard to tell which. Tindal was still fighting, though he’d picked up a stout wooden club that must have been dropped by one of the enemy. Suddenly there were more of us than them, though their leader still stood. In fact, he was standing only a few feet away, watching the battle. His back was toward me. If only I had the strength to rise, I could take him out before he knew what was happening. I tried to move and pain shot through me. I waited until it subsided and knew the task was beyond me. I tried to distract myself by watching the battle.

  It was then I saw Aynslae, sneaking from the shadows toward him. She held a large rock above her head. I would have smiled, but wasn’t sure if I had any teeth left. Her approach would bring her right by me. Hopefully the battle would distract their leader long enough for her to strike. I was scared for her, yet proud at the same time.

  She paused momentarily when she reached me and looked down. I wanted to say something to reassure her that I was all right. I wanted to tell her how worried I’d been, but I didn’t dare draw attention to her. She looked at me, eyes blazing. The feelings that suffused me at that moment, couldn’t have been far from love. I wondered if she felt the same way, even as she raised the rock higher, and brought it down hard on my head.

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  Chapter Thirty-one

  I don’t know how long it was before I awoke, but it was suddenly quiet. I didn’t know where I was or why, but I did know I hurt something fierce—worse than I’d ever hurt before. I tried to think back to what had brought me to this moment.

  Fleeting impressions toyed with my mind before I remembered a great din. There were grunts and shouts and sounds that accompany battle, though it wasn’t as loud as it had been. The conflict was coming to a close.

  It all came back to me then. I fought my way into a sitting position, thrusting the pain aside. It was almost completely dark. I struggled to my feet and toppled to the floor. I landed painfully and stayed down for a long time before I had the strength to rise again. When I did, I was covered in sweat after only a few seconds, which worked its way into my wounds and burned me to the core
of my being. Oddly enough, it was the pain that sobered me enough to stumble forward to the only patch of light I could detect.

  I leaned against the wall and stuck my head into it, craning my neck. It took me a long moment to realize I was staring through bars set in an iron door. I was in some sort of cell.

  That was about all I had strength for before I sank to my knees and once again lost consciousness.

  My next foray into the waking world was somewhat more successful, though the pain was no less intense. Now that my mind was somewhat clearer, I moved slowly, making a circuit of the cell with my hands. The walls were solid stone, the floor, tight packed soil of some sort. The door was of cold metal, probably iron. There was no way out; not that I’d expected there to be.

  Only in children’s bedtime stories did a secret passage conveniently appear to allow the brave knight to escape. I wasn’t as handsome as the heroes in those stories, nor was I as strong or intelligent. I was little more than a street urchin who, once again, was faced with overwhelming odds.

  I thought then about Aynslae and what I would say to her, if I ever saw her again. Anger fueled my resolve. I had been willing to risk my life for her and she had betrayed me. It would not go well for her if our paths were to again cross.

  Unfortunately, it seemed unlikely I would be seeing anyone again. I thought back to the comfort of the pit and wondered if trying to escape had been a mistake. As the hours passed, fear began to grow in me. Was the necromancer planning on allowing me to starve to death before transforming me into one of his own? If so, what could I do about it?

  I don’t know how long I spent in that cell. At some point, I realized I was naked. The Sword of Truth would have been a comfort to me just then. At least I would have had a companion to talk to and a bit more light. I wondered if I would ever see him again.

  I drifted in and out of consciousness. Each time I woke, I found myself in the same predicament. Several times I relieved myself in the corner of the cell. The smell didn’t make captivity any more pleasant.

  During one of my conscious spells, I heard a sound outside the door. I tried to rise to my feet, failed and thus found myself on my knees, hunched over when the door swung open and the necromancer himself entered. I looked up at him, then past him, trying to see if he had arrived with an entourage. That he hadn’t was a caution to me.

  Of course, naked and half-dead as I was, I don’t know how much of a threat I presented.

  “Good morning.” Eregor smiled a smile that, had I not known him, would have seemed benevolent. “How are you today? Healing well I trust?”

  “Where are my friends?”

  “They are safe. Would you like to see them?”

  Fear took me then. It had not occurred to me before that I might be the last of our number who had not been turned into one of the necromancer’s minions. “What have you done to them?”

  “Thus far, nothing. They are simply enjoying my hospitality. You, on the other hand, were badly hurt and so I placed you in here, so you could heal a bit. The soil in this room is very special and rather rare. Spending time on it accelerates healing. No one understands the process, though many underground races make use of it. Since it is not magical in nature, it can be used by anyone.”

  “Pardon me for being skeptical, but I can’t imagine you’re all that concerned over my well-being.”

  “On the contrary. I am very concerned. I needed you to be stronger. Otherwise, your body will be destroyed by the process you are about to undergo.”

  It was the casual nature of his statement that sent a chill through me. “I suppose warning you I have powerful friends, would be pointless.”

  Eregor laughed politely. “Follow me, please.”

  He turned and exited the cell. I hesitated before I struggled to my feet and stumbled after him.

  Fortunately, he moved slowly enough to allow me to keep up. In spite of the fact I had supposedly healed to some degree, every muscle and bone in my body burned. I knew I couldn’t make it much further. I was thinking thus, when I became aware of a sound that had been growing for some time. When the corridor grew warmer, I knew the sound for what it was. We were approaching a great fire. Only a short time later, we reached it.

  Off to my left was a long corridor with an opening on the opposite end. The floor of the passage was completely filled with fire. I hoped that opening wasn’t my destination, for already the heat was all but unbearable. Eregor paused and pointed.

  “That’s where your friends are. Too bad you won’t see them again.”

  I looked at him, then at the flames. “Tindal!” I called.

  “Alaric?” I could barely tell who was talking above the roar of the inferno.

  “Is everyone okay?” I studied the area about the place, though I didn’t know what I was looking for.

  I received no answer. Soon Eregor pushed me forward and I stumbled away. I strained my ears to hear a reply, but if there was one, it was consumed by the flames. We only walked another few feet before I was directed through an open doorway on the left.

  The room was cluttered with all manner of apparatus. There were strange chairs and tables scattered about the place and several shelves full of wooden boxes, glass bottles and clay containers. I was still taking it all in, when the necromancer addressed me.

  “This is where I perform much of my work. Some of the materials that are quite hard to find on the surface are plentiful down here.”

  A movement caught my eye and I whirled. I don’t know what I was prepared for, but it certainly wasn’t the woman. To describe her as breathtaking would have been an understatement of vast proportion. Dark eyes, long, straight dark hair, tinged with a red to match her full lips and the palest skin I’d ever seen. Her body curved in and out in all the right places and the plain white robe she wore didn’t hide any of it. Her skin was in fact so pallid, it was hard to tell where garment ended and flesh began, giving her the illusion of nakedness.

  I froze as she approached, apparently amused by my reaction. I hadn’t thought much about my own nudity until then. I found myself wishing I was fully clothed, so I could hide my body’s response to her presence. She looked down at me, and those too red lips curved into a smirk. She leaned forward as if to kiss me and my breath caught in my throat.

  Eregor’s couldn’t have missed my reaction, but his voice was all business when he spoke. “This is my surgeon.”

  I nodded and tried to clear my head. She stood in front of me, staring into my eyes. Only when her cheek touched mine did I realize what she was. Her face was ice cold. I jerked away.

  “You’re dead!”

  “Of course I am. Does that bother you? It doesn’t seem to bother Eregor. He makes use of me all the time.”

  I took an involuntary step backward. The idea of making love to an undead had never occurred to me. My cheek still felt the chill of her touch and I shuddered. She laughed and walked toward one of the tables.

  “Come. Lie down for me. The procedure is about to begin.”

  I stood transfixed, unwilling to move closer to my fate. I had been in tight spots before, but nothing that could compare with this.

  The surgeon ignored me, going about the business of preparing for, what she had called, the procedure. I had no doubt whatever was involved wouldn’t be at all pleasant. I wanted to run, but wouldn’t have gotten far in my current condition. In spite of Eregor’s assurances, I wasn’t sure the procedure, whatever it was, wouldn’t destroy me.

  The creature opened containers and sniffed their contents, then reached into a hexagonal box made of polished wood. She scooped a handful of orange powder into a clawed hand and walked toward me. Even knowing what she was, the sight of her made my legs weak. I raised a hand to my cheek to remind myself of the chill.

  She stopped before me and raised her hand, palm upward, until it was just beneath her mouth. Then she blew the powder into my face. I almost choked, but caught myself. I don’t know what it was supposed to do, but I certainly di
dn’t feel any different. She took a step back and studied me. “Now, why don’t you come on over to the table, like a good boy?”

  I almost smiled. Did she think I would just stroll into the lion’s den without a fight? To my surprise, my legs moved. Suddenly, I knew the purpose of the powder. She followed me to the table.

  “Turn around.”

  Helplessly, I complied.

  “Kiss me.”

  I didn’t want to do it. I fought the impulse, but it was no use. I felt my body lean forward and felt my lips pressed firmly against hers. The coldness made me want to shrink away, but I couldn’t. I was even unable to close my eyes.

  She enjoyed the game, I could tell. Her eyes sparkled as she watched me, but the expression on her face was as cold as her skin. I couldn’t even attempt to struggle. I was in her power and she knew it. Fortunately, she didn’t get the chance to play with me further.

  “Can we get on with this?” asked Eregor, a tinge of annoyance in his voice.

  Immediately, the surgeon grew serious. “Lay down on the table.”

  It was odd. I could feel my body, but had no control over it. It wasn’t long before I was horizontal, awaiting her next command.

  “Now this is going to hurt,” she said, with perhaps a hint of relish in her voice. “Do not move. Do not cry out. Close your eyes.”

  I wondered what she was going to do, but in my current state, I couldn’t even ask. Then Eregor spoke. Judging from the sound of his voice, he must have moved closer.

  “She is going to sew your eyes shut. As an undead, you will depend on other senses. This is always my favorite part of the transformation to watch. I understand it is the most exquisitely painful thing you will ever experience.”

  I wanted to run, to hide, to fight, but I did nothing, even when I felt the needle pierce my eyelid. Eregor’s words were true. I would have screamed, had I been allowed.