City of the Dead

by Rosemary Jones

  “Oh, Leaplow, there’s no point talking sense to you.” Turning to the wizard, Sophraea said, “Come on, we need to get out of here.”

  Behind her, her confused brother said, “If you weren’t a moon elf, I’d swear you were my sister. She is always saying things like that.”

  Remembering that he was her brother, and no matter how annoyed she felt she did not want him harmed, she said, “There’s a wolf outside the maze. You should stay here for a bit until it leaves.”

  She thought about urging him to come with them. But Leaplow’s most likely reaction to a number of armed men running after them would be to turn and fight. Better he remained hidden while she led Stunk’s men away from the maze.

  “Can’t remember ever hearing a wolf here before. I wonder how you wrestle one,” Leaplow said, dropping heavily down to sit upon his fallen opponent. The beaten man grunted under his weight.

  “I’d rather you didn’t,” said Sophraea. Then, with an idea born of desperation, she patted Gustin on the chest. The wizard had been watching their whole exchange with an expression torn between amusement and bewilderment. “It’s his fight,” she said to her brother. “You wouldn’t want to spoil his fun.”

  Leaplow blinked sleepily at the wizard. “You look familiar too. Do I know you?”

  “Not at the moment,” said the wizard with some relief.

  Leaplow shrugged. “Oh well, I am a bit tired.” He yawned and settled more heavily upon his opponent. “I have been up all night. I’ll keep this one quiet until they’re gone. Then I can collect my payment and go home.”

  On the other side of the thick briar hedge, they heard a sniff and a scratch. The wolf had found them, probably smelled the blood on Leaplow. Branches shook as the beast tried to claw his way through. A surprised howl came from the wolf as it encountered the thorns hidden behind the evergreens and the shaking stopped.

  With a wave to the brother who had no idea who she was, Sophraea grabbed the wizard’s hand and hurried back toward the center.

  “The wolf can never make it through the thorns,” she said. “Even if they find a way in, they’ll be sure to get themselves in a tangle. It’s nothing but traps in the outer ring.”

  “What about your brother?”

  “They’ll never see him, unless he wants them too,” Sophraea said. “He knows all the twists and turns of the maze. He’ll be safe enough—I hope!”

  “And how do we get out?” asked Gustin.

  “There’s a secret way, of course, just as any good thief would discover. Straight out from the center.” Sophraea slowed so she could count her steps past the perpetual flame toward the round stone circle that marked the center of the maze. At the edge of the circle, she turned sharply left and walked straight into the thorn hedge.

  Gustin recoiled behind her, then started forward to see if she was hurt.

  “Sophraea, where are you?” he called.

  She popped her head out of the hedge. “Come on, it’s only an illusion here. But be careful, it’s not a very wide path.” She held out her hand to the wizard, who took it with a smile.

  Edging sideways through the briars, Sophraea whispered to her companion, “This will put us close to the Deepwinter tomb. And then it’s just a short run from there to our gate. With luck, it will take them some time to figure out that we’re not in the maze and start following us again.”

  They slid out of the hedge and back to a normal path. Two more turns revealed the Deepwinter monument. Just past one black corner, Sophraea could see the high wall surrounding the City of the Dead. They were almost home.

  She ducked around the high flowering bush that marked the Carver’s gate. The moss-covered steps were still there. But now rather than an iron gate at the top, the steps led to a smooth stone wall, perfectly matching the rest of the high barrier separating Sophraea and Gustin from the courtyard of Dead End House.

  “Where’s the gate?” they said together.

  “Another illusion?” added Gustin.

  Sophraea ran up the stairs and felt along the wall. “No, it is real.” The mortar under her fingers felt slightly sticky. “When they found the gate broken this morning, they must have decided to wall it up.”

  A frustrated baying sounded behind them. Stunk’s bully boys and pet wolf must have discovered their prey had escaped the maze.

  Sophraea ran agitated hands across the stones blocking the Dead End gate. The work was perfect, of course, only the best as usual from her family. And it perfectly blocked their safe exit from the City of the Dead! Her family had trapped her within the graveyard.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Where now?” said Gustin.

  “Coffinmarch. That’s the closest public gate.” Frustrated, Sophraea almost pounded against the stones confronting her. The mortar was still tacky. If she screamed, her family might hear. The men could easily tear this block down again with their pickaxes and hammers.

  But, and Sophraea stilled at the thought, that would open the gate again for the walking corpses and other noble haunts. Better to keep them out of Waterdeep. She still knew the City ofthe Dead better than any of Stunk’s bullies. With luck, they could elude their pursuers.

  Once through the Coffinmarch gate and deep in their own neighborhood, there were always friends who would shelter them or send word to her family.

  Her mind made up, Sophraea started down the steps, only to halt at a second howl.

  “I think that was closer,” said Gustin.

  Sophraea nodded. “What spells do you have left?” she asked the wizard.

  “The one that lets me run very fast. I can stretch it to cover both of us,” he said. “But it doesn’t last long.”

  “Let’s get closer to the Coffinmarch gate,” Sophraea replied.

  “How much time do you think we have left?” Gustin asked, looking up at the gray clouds above them.

  From the paler shades of gray toward the west, Sophraea judged it was still late afternoon. “The gates should be open for awhile longer.”

  “If we can get them to chase us past the City Watch at the gate, we’ll be moving too fast for the Watch to catch and they’ll run …” Gustin mused.

  “Right into a fight,” enthused Sophraea. “Or the Watchful Order. They should be arriving soon. But what about the wards on the gates? Will that interfere with your spell?”

  “Let’s hope not,” said the wizard, setting out with long strides to follow Sophraea as she led them away from the Dead End House’s blocked gate.

  As they passed round a small round tomb carved from a pale violet stone and inlaid with silver, a door creaked open. Two shadowy figures stepped out.

  Gustin raised his arm, ready to fight, but dropped his hand as he recognized the two men halted in the doorway of the tomb. One had a head full of tentacles. The other’s amphibious face was scaled and his mouth open and closed with surprise, revealing a double row of teeth. The two gravediggers seemed as startled as Gustin was, but gave out no yell of greeting to echo his own.

  Sophraea let out a glad cry upon recognizing her friends, “Feeler! Fish!”

  The two gravediggers had started to turn back into the tomb but stopped at her shout.

  “Who are you?” said Feeler, his tentacles waving in agitation around his long pale face.

  “Sophraea,” the puzzled girl replied.

  “You’re still mostly moon elf,” Gustin said. With a snap of his fingers, the illusion melted away from the pair.

  Feeler and Fish blinked together at the sudden transformation.

  “Sophraea, we’ve been looking for you!” said Feeler, hurrying to her. “Your mother was afraid you’d try to come back to Dead End House from the graveyard side.”

  “We did, but the gate’s blocked.”

  “Yes, the family decided to brick it closed this morning after they saw the damage there,” said Feeler. “Then, about halfway through the work, a thorn popped his head over the wall and said he’d seen you in the City of the Dead.”

/>   Gustin scanned the darkening sky. A distant howl made him start and remind Sophraea, “We should get moving.”

  “We need to get out of here,” said Sophraea to Feeler. “Stunk’s men are following us.”

  “Stunk! Some messenger came from him earlier, demanding that your father give up the family ledger. Astute sent him right back to Stunk with some hard words, but the fellow made all sorts of threats.”

  Feeler continued, “Then Leaplow caught some of his men trying to climb over the graveyard wall and a pack of your brothers and cousins went after them.”

  “We saw Leaplow, he’s safe enough in the Thief’s Knot,” Sophraea told them.

  The shouts and sounds of armored men echoed behind them.

  Feeler turned back to the open tomb door. “We’d do better underground. We can lose them in the tunnels.”

  “Go through a tomb?” Gustin asked.

  “With the gate closed, I think we should.”

  Sophraea and Gustin followed Feeler. The round tomb’s floor was mostly circular staircase, leading down under the earth. A few glowing lights provided a dim illumination.

  “Who is buried here?” whispered Gustin.

  “It feels empty,” said Sophraea.

  Above them, Fish pulled the door firmly shut with a clang and then rattled down the stairs behind him, his shovels and other tools clicking in their shoulder straps.

  “Nobody’s in here. Belongs to a family buried outside,” said Feeler. He took the lead down the stairs. “There’s a portal at the bottom and a door into the long tunnels running toward the wall.”

  “Maybe we could take the portal,” said Sophraea as they reached the tiny room at the bottom of the stairs. A polished dais of amber marked the magical exit.

  Feeler shook his head. Fish nodded in agreement.

  “Why not?” asked the confused Sophraea.

  “Only one way out and one way back. There’s a wolf with them, right?”

  “Yes, big gray thing,” said Gustin.

  “Lycanthrope,” said Feeler with conviction.

  “A werewolf?” Sophraea suddenly thought she knew who it was.

  “That doorjack, the one with the all-body beard,” said Gustin echoing her thoughts.

  “Stunk’s been employing some strange ones,” said the man with tentacles and no irony. “There’s been talk in some of the taverns where we go.”

  Fish nodded and grinned to reveal his double row of sharp pointy teeth.

  “We had a couple of offers,” Feeler added. “High pay too. But we told them we were loyal to the Carvers.”

  Fish pulled up the heavy wooden door on the other side of the little room. Just outside it, one of the gravedigger’s lanterns swung from an iron hook. Fish fetched it down and lighted it with his tinder.

  “If we go this way, we may lose them,” Feeler said, gesturing them through the door.

  “Or lead them back to Dead End House,” Sophraea protested. “I know the basement door is guarded, but will it be strong enough to resist a full assault?”

  “There’s another portal along here,” said Feeler, hurrying them down the long tunnel. “It comes and goes with the tide.”

  Fish made a gulping sound, a glugging deep in his throat.

  “Tide’s on the turn,” said Feeler. “We should be able to slide past, but if Stunk’s bullies follow, they won’t like it.”

  “They’ll be sucked in?” said Gustin with a lively tone of interest.

  “It’s not real obvious,” said Feeler. “When it comes up, it just looks like a mud puddle stretching across the tunnel floor.”

  Sophraea stared uneasily at the damp mud under her feet. “Are we close to it?”

  “Almost there.” Feeler stopped and signaled Fish to go forward. “If the tide is in, better that he steps into it than us. He can breathe underwater.”

  “Where does this portal go?” asked Sophraea, who disliked Stunk’s guards intensely but didn’t necessarily want to murder them.

  “Most turn up outside the city walls, on the beach,” said Feeler. “I’ve known some halflings to jump in to escape the City Watch, but they say it isn’t pleasant, you’re usually up to your knees in muck and seaweed from the drop. And there’s been talk that one or two landed far out in the water and had to swim in.”

  Sophraea took a deep breath. “I can swim if I have to.”

  “I haven’t ever been through a portal,” Gustin murmured. His eyes were wide and shining in the lantern’s light. He stirred the mud with his foot. “It’s just the sort of adventure that the guidebook promised that you’d find in Waterdeep.”

  “There are pleasanter portals,” Sophraea told him. “And I’d rather not end up in the bay.”

  “We have a little time,” Feeler assured her. Fish had cleared the perilous part of the passage and waved them forward down the long tunnel, signaling that it was still safe. Sophraea could barely see his lantern bobbing far ahead of them.

  As they ran toward the scaly gravedigger, the ground began to hum and shiver under their feet. The wet earth sucked at their feet, as if reluctant to let them proceed. The air reeked with the smell of salt water.

  “Faster,” said Feeler, stretching out his legs. “Tide’s coming in.”

  Gustin snapped off some rattling words, grabbing at Sophraea with one hand and Feeler with the other. Their magical speed created a breeze that made Sophraea’s skirts and curls stream out behind her.

  She heard a loud shout and then a howl echoed down the passageway.

  “Stunk’s bullies are in the tunnel!” she warned the others.

  As abruptly as it began, Gustin’s burst of speed ran out. Sophraea felt the power drop off immediately. Suddenly her feet seemed incredibly slow, as if she struggled through glue. Each step took enormous effort. Each time she lifted a foot, she heard the mud beneath her soles give a popping sound.

  “Come on, come on,” Feeler cried, lunging toward Fish.

  The other gravedigger stretched out his arms, ready to snatch them to safety.

  With a leap, Gustin cleared the steps leading up to the solid rock floor. He hauled on Sophraea’s arm and Fish caught her other hand. She felt her toes touch mud, sticky and thick, holding her back. Fish and Gustin yanked. Pain shot through her shoulder joints. And then between them, the two swung her to safety.

  Sophraea sank to her knees with a gasp.

  Behind them, the tunnel began to glow with aquamarine phosphorescence. Stunk’s startled men could be clearly seen. Already the floor beneath their feet was shining wet and the tang of rotting seaweed filled the tunnel.

  The mud stirred and then parted, and something huge and white and scaled swam momentarily both across the floor and in the floor. Then the salty scent of the open sea filled the air.

  Stunk’s men tried to turn and run, but the mud caught them. The air shimmered around them. With an awful gloop, fighter after fighter was sucked down into the open portal.

  The surface rippled with their passing and then was smooth and still, gleaming wetly under the luminescent glow of the tunnel walls.

  Only the werewolf escaped being pulled under. Faster than the armored men, the beast raced through the tunnel and launched himself into the air at Sophraea.

  From where she kneeled on the solid stone step, still gasping for breath, Sophraea saw a mouthful of huge teeth bearing down on her. The gigantic paws reached for her. Behind her, she heard Gustin and the others shout. Light flashed on the outstretched claws.

  Her heart pounded. Her breath stuck in her throat. She sat back on her heels and tried to stand but her legs felt too numb. She’d never make it, never get to her feet in time to run. Her damp fingers dug into the wicker handle of her basket. For an endless moment, she stared, horrified. And then she reacted.

  With her own yell bouncing off the walls, Sophraea swung the basket loaded with bricks. It smacked into the terrible beast’s nose.

  The werewolf tumbled back onto the quicksand floor of the tunnel.
r />   Another gloop and he was gone.

  Absolutely breathless, Sophraea turned to face her friends. They stared back with an expression akin to awe or maybe it was surprise.

  “The women of Waterdeep are amazing,” Gustin finally said with great conviction.

  “Let’s go back under the Markarl tomb,” she panted.

  “What?” asked Gustin as he caught her hand, holding it in a hard clasp as if he was afraid she’d fall back into the portal shining brilliantly blue behind her. “I thought you wanted to get home. I think we should go back to Dead End House. You’ll be safer there.”

  “We’ve got to end this,” Sophraea argued, but she made no move to pull her hand free. There was something reassuring about Gustin’s warm fingers curled around hers. “We must put the shoe back where it belongs. Once we get the dead settled, maybe Stunk will listen to reason. Or we can get Lord Adarbrent to help. But we can’t keep running and fighting.”

  She didn’t add that carrying a basketful of bricks was slowing her down and wearing her out. Those bricks had saved her too often to complain about them.

  With a reluctant nod, Gustin helped her to her feet and they started running again in the direction that she indicated. Feeler and Fish trailed after them.

  “I think it would be safer to go back to the house,” Gustin said. “We could fetch some of your brothers or cousins.”

  They could, and then she could watch Stunk’s guards or the noble dead attack her family. Look at what had happened already! The less family members involved, the better, she decided.

  “No,” said Sophraea out loud. “I started this curse by carrying off the shoe and I’m going to end it.”

  At Rampage Stunk’s mansion, the angry fat man questioned a battered and bruised doorjack. The man nursed a bloody and broken nose, but managed to tell Stunk about how he’d been tricked into following the girl and the wizard underneath the City of the Dead.