City of Steel (Chaos Awakens Book 3)

by Heath Pfaff

  The assassin leaned heavily against the door, taking a moment to gather his wits. The room in front of him was in complete disarray. Shelves had been knocked over, tables lay tipped one way or another, and there was barely a single piece of useable weaponry left in the shop. Xan could piece together what had happened well enough. When the plague had first broken out the people of the town had sacked this shop to get a hold of anything that might be used as a weapon. Desperation drove people to devious ends. Hopefully they hadn't taken the scrap metal as well.

  Xan drew Haley's knife from its place on his hip and began to move slowly through the room. Behind him a dull thud sounded against the sealed door. One of the plague victims had followed him to the shop. With any luck it wouldn't be able bring down the door. The windows were barred, luckily. Assuming there was nothing dangerous already inside the building, Xan had some time get what he needed and plan a way to get out of the town without being killed.

  Moving through the quiet, dark shop was an unnerving process. There were far too many places for one of the plague corpses to be hidden away beneath a table, or under a fallen shelf. The store wasn't small. Xandrith did his best to check for threats as he proceeded, but he would need to dedicate serious time to the place if he wanted to be sure it was safe, and he really didn't feel like spending that long in the broken down store. He made his way towards the working part of the shop with the stone walled smithy, hidden back behind teller's counter. That's where he would find what he'd come for. To his pleasant surprise, he made it to the back of the store without running into any more trouble, though the noises from outside were becoming louder. Just how many of those things had he woken on his way?

  Xan put that question out of his mind as he located his prize. Along one wall of the work area was an abundance of scrap metal. Some of it had been formed into easy to move bars, and some of it was still in the shape of broken tools and weapons. Xandrith started with the easy to pack bars, loading them into the sack in as orderly a fashion as possible. They were heavy and the bag gained weight quickly. By the time it was half full, Xan decided he'd better stop. The sack he'd been given was well made, but fabric and stitch could only hold so much weight before it ripped. Xan put the pack on his back, groaning in indignation as the weight settled on his shoulders. He didn't want to guess how heavy it was, but he would be substantially hampered in his efforts to leave. There was no way he could run around the plague ridden corpses as smoothly as he had before.

  After a few moments of deliberating on what course of action to take next, Xan decided to do what came natural to him. He found a ladder in the shop and used it to climb up to the ceiling. There was a hatch that led out onto the flat roof of the building. Even with the extra weight on his back he was able to climb up with little difficulty. The roof of the shop was covered in stretched hides. The smiths must have tanned their own hides for wrapping hilts and equipment handles. That was a good way to cut down expenses on their part, and thankfully that had given Xan an easy method to get to the roof.

  He looked to the sky as he moved between the rows of stretched leather. The sun was falling. He'd been in town for several hours now. It would be dark before he was able to get back over the wall, and he was getting tired. Still, Xan had no intention of spending the night in Marekston. Sleeping in the center of a plague filled town was an experience Xan wasn't keen to have. He peered over the wall of the building.

  Xan recoiled, almost falling backwards with the added weight of the metal he was carrying. He forced himself to glance over again. The street was full of the plague victims, with more of them marching in from further into the town than Xan had gone. Where had they all come from? There were hundreds of them as thick as any mob Xandrith had ever encountered. They were encircling Togg and Sons, their mass of rotting bodies pressing against the doors and walls as though they might push through by force of mass alone. Xan walked all the way around the building, looking for an opening in the crowd he might use to make his escape. The corpses had completely surrounded him.

  The nearest rooftops were far enough away that making a jump would be difficult, and that was if he wasn't carrying an extra half of his weight in metal. A moment of inspiration struck and Xan quickly made his way back to the trapdoor. He reached down through the opening and snagged the ladder with one hand, pulling it up onto the roof. If he couldn't jump the gap between buildings, he might be able to use the ladder to crawl across the space. He approached the side of the building that would allow him the best route of escape and attempted to drop the ladder across the gap between his building and the one across from it, but it soon became apparent that the ladder wasn't long enough to span that gap. Xandrith cursed beneath his breath. That left only two other possible directions that he could try, and one of those directions would lead him even deeper into the town. The fourth direction, back the direction he'd come, was simply impossible. There was a full street between him and the next rooftop.

  Xan made his way to the opposite side of the building. It was the only other direction that wouldn't take him closer to the town center, and the place where all the walking corpses were coming from. Xandrith knew without dropping the ladder across the distance that it was at least as wide as the one he'd already tried. He could waste the time trying to bridge that gap, but it wasn't going to happen. Grudgingly he made his way to the third option, the one that would take him further into town. It was the shortest distance of any of his possibilities, but even it looked like it would be close. Xandrith carefully positioned his ladder and let it fall across the open space. It landed barely on the other roof top, overlapping the edge by less than a hand's span. The assassin stood back and looked at his makeshift bridge.

  He could cross it and then pick up the ladder again, and see if any better options were available from over there. He would need to move carefully. If he jostled the ladder at all it would fall and he would go with it, right down into the center of the plague-ridden horde. Of course the alternative was to stay on his own roof and do nothing. That would be fine for a day, but he couldn't just live on the forsaken roof forever.

  Xan delicately lifted himself up onto the ladder and took his first cautious step across the void. Below him swarms of plague ridden villagers gawked upward at him, watching him with milky, swollen eyes that were nearly bursting with larvae. The horde shifted with him, following his slow progression between the two buildings. Halfway across the gap the ladder gave a disheartening crack and the center seemed to sag downward.

  Xandrith very nearly jumped the rest of the way across the ladder, but doing so would probably send his only hope of moving safely from building to building cascading into the street below. That was the last thing he wanted to do to himself. He pressed on across the narrow wooded beams moving with assured balance, but much less assured confidence in the stability of his bridge.

  The entire journey took him maybe ten seconds, but by the time he stepped onto the second rooftop he felt as though he'd been hanging above that hungry maw for hours. The firmness of his new nest beneath his feet brought forth an unintentional sigh of relief.

  "We survived that one." He whispered under his breath.

  "Barely." Came his own voice in mocking tones from further along the roof. His younger self was sitting atop a wooden crate, idly picking at his nails with the tip of what looked like the old bonesteel dagger.

  "Barely." Xandrith said in agreement as he collected his ladder and began scouting the paths off of his new rooftop prison. All too soon it was evident that Xan only had one choice of travel again. He would be heading further into the city once more. He lined up his ladder and dropped it between his roof and the next. There was an incline. The next building over was taller than the one he was on, and he couldn't quite see over the lip of the wall. The ladder barely covered the gap, and the angle made it seem even more precarious than his last attempt.

  "That doesn't look good." Young-him said gravely.

  "I don't suppose you want to hold the l
adder for me?" Xan asked him.

  "I could." The other replied with Xan's familiar half-grin. "Would that make you feel better about this?"

  Xan thought about that for a second before replying. "No, not really."

  Fake-Xan shrugged. "Well, don't say I didn't offer."

  Xandrith ignored him and stepped out onto the ladder. He wasn't sure whether it was his imagination or not, but he thought he could feel the rickety old thing slipping beneath his feet. He steeled his nerve and forced himself to move further along the ladder. The angle wasn't so steep that he could navigate the ladder the way one was supposed to, but it was steep enough that it felt like he was walking up a very crudely built set of stairs. Beneath him Xandrith could see the swarm of bloated dead gathering together. It hadn't taken them long to figure out where he'd gone.

  One steady foot step at a time carried Xan three quarters of the way up to the next rooftop. There was nothing Xan could do when the explosive snap of wood breaking sounded from below his feet. The ladder was falling away from him so he couldn't jump. He fell forward, reaching for the edge of the next roof. Shards of wood rained down upon the horde below. The assassin's fingers snagged the very edge of his intended goal. His weight, and the weight of the bag of metal on his back, crashed down upon his muscles like a terrible hammer blow. His arms snapped straight and he slammed into the wall with a heavy thud, slamming his face into the stone in front of him. Somehow, he managed to hold on.

  He'd been saved by his reflexes alone, and they continued to serve him as he shook the daze from his head without falling to the ground below. "Shit!" He yelled angrily as his reasoning returned and he began to pull himself up. His arms burned and the joints ached from taking the full weight of his falling body and the sack of metal. Had he been old Xan, completely human Xan, he might not have had the same luck. He drew his head above the edge of the wall and his relief at surviving the ladder's fall immediately burned away.

  Two bulging eyes stuck in a face that was mostly rot and decay were staring directly at him from only inches away. Even as Xan realized the trouble he was in, the plague carrying corpse opened its disgusting maw and a swarm of insects erupted from its insides. The air filled with a buzzing cloud of death that immediately enveloped the assassin. Instinct kicked in. The assassin reached out with his right hand, grabbed the spewing monstrosity by the cloth of its shirt, and pulled it over the edge of the roof to his side. It barely even struggled as it plummeted over the edge to land with a sickeningly moist thud amidst the horde of its fellows below.

  Xandrith pulled himself up on to the rooftop, his fear fueling his abused muscles more efficiently than his will had. As soon as he’d gained the roof Xan covered his mouth and nose with an arm and began to flail the other, trying to disband the thick swarm of insects. They wouldn't be so easily dissuaded. The tickling pricks of the inset’s tiny bodies as they rammed into him, crawled along his flesh, and tried to find a way in were maddening. Xandrith bit down and the creatures crushed between his teeth, and he could feel them crawling into his nose. He snorted and spat, trying to tuck his ears into his sleeves so the pests wouldn’t crawl into those openings as well. They were swarming into him from every angle they could manage looking for some vulnerability, even if they couldn’t lay eggs inside of him. He ran across the rooftop trying to break free of the cloud, but there wasn't enough room to make an escape.

  In desperation he found the next nearest rooftop and made a run for it. The gap was larger than he'd have liked to have risked, but his only other choice was to choke to death on a horde of insects intent on laying eggs in his body. The edge approached quickly and Xan was soon sailing through the air, propelled by every ounce of strength his legs could muster. Halfway through the jump he knew it wasn't going to be enough. He twisted his body and stretched out as far as he could. The cloud of insects had dissipated, but the horde below him was speeding towards him at an alarming rate.

  The very tips of his fingers snagged the next rooftop and in a space of time less than the width of a breath the rest of his body weight, and the weight of the bag of metal, slammed down hard against his meager grip. His left hand broke free, gouging out a piece of the wooden beam he'd grabbed onto as it tore away. Somehow his right hand held, but the loss of his left swung him awkwardly against the wall. Some jagged piece of metal from his extra pack penetrated the fabric and punched through his clothing and into his ribs. Xan felt the terrible ripping sensation as it tore a line down his left side. He grit his teeth and pushed the pain from the forefront of his mind. With a concerted effort he steadied himself on the wall and pulled himself up over the ledge, leaving a trail a vivid red blood in his wake.

  Even though his nails had hardened into claws, all of his finger tips on his right hand were bleeding when he finally released his death grip on the wall beam. Despite the pain of his wounds, his immediate concern was the swarm of insects that had enveloped him. Was he really immune to the nasty insects, or would he soon end up like the poor bastards that were roaming the streets, empty shells full of swarming bugs just looking for the next person they could infect? A wave of fear passed through Xandrith. Dying was one thing, but becoming some kind of brain-dead monster seemed far more horrible.

  "They won't lay eggs in something as close to a troll as you've become." The illusionary Xan chose that moment to make a reappearance. "You're going to be fine."

  "What makes you such an expert on those things?" Xan growled back. "You don't know any more about them than I do. You're just guessing."

  "If the blade wielders are immune you certainly should be. You're even more troll-kin than they are. Your humanity is questionable at best." False Xan's words weren't particularly comforting.

  "Thanks. That's the sort of reassurance that really helps keep my spirits up." Xan resorted to acidic sarcasm. It seemed the best fall back in the given situation.

  "I do what I can, friend." The younger Xan replied with a sly grin. "What are we going to do now?" He added after a moment of awkward silence. Xandrith wasn't entirely certain how an awkward silence could be had by himself, but somehow he'd managed it.

  Older Xan chuckled dryly. "Isn't that obvious? We're going to get out of this town and return this scrap metal to that caravan."

  "Great, but how?" False Xan was looking over the wall, his eyes perusing the horde of infested townsmen below. "You're bleeding pretty heavily, and there is no way we can keep hopping rooftops like this."

  The real Xan nodded slowly. "I think I have an idea."

  The other Xan frowned. "Yeah, I was worried that might be the case."

  "Well if you have any other suggestions, I'd love to hear them. Those things might not be able infest me, but I get the impression they might rip me apart trying. I gave myself a deadline that I need to meet, so waiting them out to see if they might leave isn't going to work." Xandrith had already begun searching for a way down into the building beneath his feet.

  "I don't have any better ideas, but that doesn't mean this one is good." Younger Xan sounded almost as ill at ease as older Xan felt.

  Xandrith saw the edge of a latch peeking out from beneath a well-worn, grass mat. He walked over to the mat and kicked it aside revealing a small hatch that would lead down into the building below. "Sometimes when things get dangerous you just have to improvise and hope for the best. It's not like this is the first time I've done something this stupid."

  Fake Xan didn't seem amused. "It's the first time you've done something this stupid while surrounded by monsters set upon tearing you apart."

  Xandrith lifted the latch and peered down into the dark building. He found himself looking down into what appeared to be some kind of bakery. The smell of molding bread wafted up through the opening. It was a smell that was actually preferable to the one wafting up from the surrounding streets. He glanced up to the rooftop only to see that his illusionary self had taken that moment to vanish from existence again. Xan decided he was better off without his partner at this particular mo
ment. He removed his bag of metal from his back and sat down on the rooftop by the opening. He wouldn't need that slowing him down. Xan pulled his knife from his belt and positioned himself over the hole. On aching arms, Xan began to lower himself through the hatchway down into the darkened bakery.

  His body protested the exertion after the abuse it had recently taken, and his fingers throbbed with pain. His fingertips bled from beneath the claw-like nails as he ever so slowly lowered himself down, trying to be quiet and cautious. For a moment he allowed himself just to hang as he scanned the darkness for any sign of danger. Below him, still a few hand spans beneath his hanging feet, was a counter with samples of what had once been fresh bread covering most of its surface. He used his hands to turn slowly around. The place seemed to be in order. None of the shelves were knocked over or in disarray. It appeared as though the chaos beyond the walls had stayed beyond the walls.

  Xan dropped quietly to the counter, using his knees to absorb the impact. He hopped down and began searching for the supplies he needed. It didn't take him long to find what he was looking for. He'd been lucky that he was atop a store. He quickly found a dozen lamps, all full of oil. With a little more searching he discovered a small cask of even more lamp oil. It would be more than enough to do what he intended. The tricky part would be getting it all back to the roof.

  After trying to figure out the best way to get his supplies back to where he needed them, he finally decided just to make multiple trips. He carried the torches up in sets of two. He didn't want to break them right away. Even being as cautious as he was he managed to shatter one of the fragile lamps in his jump back to the rooftop. He made the trip six times with lanterns, and on his last trip he carried the cask of oil. It was fairly large, and he had to use some scavenged cloth to create a harness to help him get it up and through the relatively narrow hole onto the roof. By the time he was successfully free of the building, the sky was almost fully dark. The swarms of infected people still clawed at the sides of the building all around him, attracted by even the small sounds he made while moving around the rooftop. He set to work immediately on his method of escape.