by Lloyd Baron
Riochald’s slap knocks him from his feet and his senses return. He tries a smile, but in the face of all the death he cannot muster one.
“What do we do?” Canace asks, face still buried within Darwin’t’s shirt. “We cannot stay here.”
Danlynn sees Riochald go to speak, but her words are cut off as one of the dock workers gets to his feet, groaning.
“He is still alive,” Canace says wonderingly.
“No my sweet,” Riochald says. “He is not.”
15
THE DEAD RISING
It lunges.
Canace screams.
Derry’n grabs his chair and swings it at the ghoul. Wood splinters and the thing drops to the floor. A hand snatches at Tarfleam from the pool of blood beside their table. He crumples in on himself; the twisted face of a second ghoul leaning in close to his, jaws dripping saliva and gore. Riochald’s boot takes its face off and she hauls the jelly-like man to his feet, cursing at him as she does.
Two more stand and the first is regaining his feet. Danlynn rushes over to a couple of decorative swords mounted upon a wooden plaque. He grabs the handle of one, but it is fastened solid. So is the second. He almost screams himself as the nearest ghoul staggers towards him. Suddenly Derry’n is there; his strong arms grasping the sword handles, pulling them clear of the wall, the mounted plaque coming with them. He drops the wood and plaster to the floor and hands one of the swords to Danlynn.
“That is the pointy end,” he says with what is close to a smile. He lashes out and cuts deep into the side of the monster. It groans and falls, crawling still closer. Darwin’t shouts something, and in the second it takes to look at him the other two leap onto the armed boys. Both swords drop to the floor, Danlynn’s feet kicking his across the planks. Riochald dives to get it, but the bulk of the innkeeper gets in her path. It pulls the kitchen knife from its chest and thrusts it at her throat. She falls backwards, just under the ghoul’s reach, the wind knocked from her as she hits the floor.
Canace grabs Tarfleam and tries to lead him away, but he won’t move. She slaps him lightly on the cheek and then once harder, and he seems to come back to himself. “Move or die,” she shouts into his face. They crouch behind the table and wait for a moment when they can move. The scene is one of horror.
Danlynn and Derry’n are both down, both wrestling with beasts. Riochald is also on the floor, the innkeeper reaching down with chubby fingers, knife still in hand. She looks at Darwin’t, who is just standing in the middle of it all. He does not move or even register what is going on around him.
“Darwin’t,” she screams.
His dream.
He is standing by a lake. The sky is blue and the sun is at its zenith. Nine white swans glide past like ferrymen's boats on feast days. He notes the number, and as he does so the world begins to burn.
He snaps his eyes open and looks up in shock at the sign painted onto the wall. Nine white boats all called The Swan sail across a still lake. The inn is called the Nine Swans. It was all in his dream. What had happened then? He squeezes his eyes shut and forces his mind to dredge up the images.
The water bubbles and hisses into huge clouds of steam. A shadow swoops from the sky, screeching like a firework. Darwin’t raises his hands defensively to stop it from hitting his face, but nothing happens and the roar fades to nothing.
“Fire,” he mutters. A lone candle rests upon the table beside him and he grabs it, hot wax running over the backs of his fingers. He thrusts it into the innkeeper’s face and it roars before stumbling backwards. He turns to face the others. The tiny flame detonates in his hands into an inferno, directed towards the ghouls. It smothers them like a wave, and they drop. Dead.
Danlynn and Derry’n jump back to their feet. Eyeing Darwin’t as if it is the first time they have seen him. “It wasn’t me!” he shouts glancing at the two smoking, charred bodies on the floor. “It wasn’t.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Riochald says. She looks in a state of shock. Her eyes wide with fear. Canace and Tarfleam rush to be within the group. They turn to face the innkeeper. Derry’n hefts the sword up.
The fat innkeeper rushes forwards, waving the long kitchen knife through the air. Derry’n calls a battle cry and goes to meet him, yet they had forgotten about the wounded ghoul which has been slowly and silently crawling towards them. It grasps Derry’n’s feet and he trips, smashing his face into a table as he falls. The innkeeper shoulder-barges Darwin’t and Danlynn out of his way and lands upon Riochald, who shrieks in horror as she is driven back to the floor. Tarfleam screams and runs for the stairs. Canace staggers into the corner of the room, alone.
A roar tears through the building. Vibrating the windows and bouncing the plates from the tables. Everything stops.
A dragon’s large scaled head smashes through the wall beside Canace, sending her sprawling across the floor, landing in the unlit fireplace. The large jaws open to reveal rows of razor-sharp teeth. A thick tongue lolls out and a hiss of air rushes into the room. Moments later it is followed by a burst of flaming liquid. The innkeeper takes the full force in his face and explodes in a shower of blood and internal gore.
The head withdraws and an assaulting wind follows as it takes to the sky. It will be back. Everyone moves at once. Riochald pushing to her feet, grabbing Derry’n’s shoulders and dragging him towards the stairs and Tarfleam. Canace clambers over debris of the broken wall and follows. Danlynn and Darwin’t close behind.
Outside the scene is one of chaos and fear. Townsfolk run everywhere. Women carrying children or grasping hold of hands of those too big to carry. Men with buckets of water trying to douse flames or running to protect their families the best way they can. It is all hopeless against a dragon.
“Why is it here?” Darwin’t yells above the noise from the town. “Dragons never leave the mountains.”
“It must be for us,” Derry’n says grimly.
“How?”
He turns to Canace who stares up at him pleadingly. “I do not know. But magic must be behind the walking dead. So it may very well be behind the dragon too.”
“Whatever is behind it, Derry’n, we cannot stay here. We have to go.”
“Where?” Tarfleam screams and everyone turns to look at the shaking man. “It will find us wherever we go. If it’s looking for us then it’ll find us!”
He is answered by the roar of the beast somewhere in the smoky night sky. “Well we can’t stay here,” Canace repeats, ignoring the glare from Riochald. Her grammar and can be picked up on some other time. “We should head for the water and a boat.”
Before they can move the night is lit up by a jet of boiling liquid which hits the inn behind them. The blast knocks them all from their feet. Someone shouts for them to run, and in the chaotic madness around them they become separated.
Riochald staggers into an ally as the winged nightmare glides overhead, Tarfleam following right behind her, his body mere inches from hers. “We lost the others,” he says, yet she knew that already and so ignores him. “Did you hear me? We are alone and that thing is still flying around. We’re all going to die. I know it. I’m far too young to die. I can’t die I can’t!” Riochald rolls her eyes and sighs. She waits for the next word to leave his mouth and swings her palm into his face. The smack knocks him into the wall and into silence. Her hand is really starting to hurt from all the slapping. Why are men so pathetic?
“You better now, boy?” She says glaring back at him. He nods once, his eyes holding hers with disgust. “Good, now follow or you will die!”
They continue in a low crouch, avoiding any of the main routes and keeping in the shadows. Spader Nillson’s tour had been a big help in finding her way through the streets. She hears Canace’s scream long before she sees the dragon swooping down. It is heading for the next row of buildings over and the Creator of the screaming.
“Canace!” she calls and runs, leaving Tarfleam behind to cry.
Canace screams. Derry’n spins on his
heel and looks to the sky. It is coming straight at them, jaws opening. He has only seconds to react. He grabs hold of the girl’s hand and pulls her into a side street. The beast thunders past not far behind and it turns instantly in their direction. The street is too narrow for its enormous bulk, yet that does not stop it. Wooden beams and roof tiles shower around them as they run; the dragons snapping jaw closing in on them fast. The end of the street is in sight, only another few paces. It is too far. The jaws reach Canace and open either side of her, ready to crush her between the rows of jagged teeth. She screams and he pulls.
His feet hit something and he propels them both into the air. The dragon rushes beneath them as they fall back into the rubble. The beast looks around for them, but does not look behind it. It takes to the skies once again.
He tries to get his breathing to slow down, but does not manage to do so. Canace, who had shut her eyes, opens them to see the world still there and launches herself at Derry’n. He feels numb.
How had he jumped so high?
Riochald clambers over the wreckage and drops beside them, embracing them both in her strong arms.
“Where is Tarfleam?” he asks.
Riochald glances behind her and her face drops. “Oh for the love of the Goddess!” she mutters.
Danlynn stumbles into the ally, ducking behind a stack of crates. A vile decaying stench is emitted from them and he is forced to hold his breath. The footfalls of the ghoul become fainter as it moves away, having lost its victim. He lets his breath out and pants, doubling over, placing his hands on his knees. It had been a hard run through the town. The ghoul had been fast and untiring but seemed to lack intelligence and had been easy to lose in the tight alleys.
The hand grasping his shoulder makes his heart explode in panic and he wheels around, lifting the sword he had taken from the inn to defend himself. The tip of the blade comes to rest on the chest of a woman. He recognizes her instantly.
“You. From the inn. The innkeeper’s wife.” He lowers his blade, but then remembers what she had done to her husband with a kitchen knife. He keeps it ready. “It’s dangerous here. You should get to safety.” She moves too quickly for him and grabs the blade from his hand. He grasps back for it like a child trying to snatch back a stolen toy. His hands slip over the hilt and the sword comes away from him. He falls backwards, cracking his head on the wet, firm ground. Flashes of light cover his vision for an instant. He blinks quickly to clear them, rolling onto his stomach. He raises his head.
The innkeeper’s wife stares at him, a look of horror and surprise on her face. She still holds the sword handle in shaking hands; its blade piercing through her chest. Her eyes lose their life as they look into his. She collapses to the ground. Dead.
He continues to stare at her. Blood begins to soak through her gown where the sword vanishes into the fabric. He stares. A trickle of blood slips from the corner of her slightly open mouth. He does not remove his eyes from her. Her once beautiful hair is now matted and resting in a dirty puddle.
He blinks, and the reality of what he has done hits him. He lifts his knees and crawls over to her sprawled form. “I’m sorry,” he says forcing back a sob. “It was an accident.” He reaches forwards to touch her skin. It is cold. He begins to withdraw his hand when her eyes snap open and she lurches forwards.
Danlynn screams.
***
Tarfleam watches the dragon circle in the sky overhead. He had been hiding in the shadow of an alley when the thing had dived into the buildings opposite. The sound was terrifying and the destruction it had caused would take suns to rebuild. He had then run for the water and that is where he is now.
The small rowboat rocks back and forth, and the gentle crash of the waves drifts from further out in the bay. The giant lizard wheels in the air and then comes out over the water. Tarfleam pulls the blanket up under his chin and watches the beasts search. It roars its frustration and dives back into the town. He relaxes. At least he will be safe.
He follows the great winged beast with his eyes as it drops from view. His vision settles on the huddled figure of a man behind a stack of crates. His first thought is he must be hiding also with his clenched hands and bowed head lost in prayer. Then he knows where he has seen the figure before; in the woods outside Gressgs. The scene of Tye falling from his horse flickers across his mind. He sees it clearly. Tye hits the mud, a gasp escaping his lips. His dying eyes passing over Tarfleam. Blood trickles from the corner of his mouth.
Tarfleam touches his face and can almost feel the blood of his friend still splattered across it. The vision clears and Tarfleam stares at Tye’s murderer. Hate fills him more than he has ever known and he jumps to his feet. The boat rocks under him, but he keeps his balance. Blind fury guides his actions and he grabs a lump of coal from the floor of the boat. Hefting it in his right hand he reaches back and with the full force of his body launches it towards the kneeling man. Suns of bullying Danlynn pay off and the coal hits the crouched figure on the temple. The figure shrieks and falls backwards holding his head. Dark blood pouring over the back of his hand as it flows from the cut.
Shimmering darkness passes through the air, following the same route as the coal. It hits Tarfleam’s outstretched hand as he tries to ward it off. Burning engulfs the limb all the way to the shoulder. He screams and drops backwards, grasping the charred stump where his arm had been only moments before. Tears fill his eyes as both pain and horror floods over him. His arm. No more than a burned husk. He tries to flex his fingers. The flesh cracks and thick blood oozes from the wound. He clutches it to himself, rocking backwards against the tiller. He looks up and sees death walking across the water.
Razzork breathes deep and slow. The control on the dragon weak at best and his spreading darkness creating the ghouls draining his reserves quickly. He will tear this whole rotting town apart if he has to. The six little brats must be killed.
Something cracks into his temple and he sprawls backwards. The draining on his power reducing his magical shield to nothing. He feels blood slick over his hand but he pays it no heed. He lashes out at his attacker with a dark wave and drags himself back to his feet. A startled cry fills the air as his power does its damage, reducing flesh to decay in moments. He follows the sound and sees at once who had attacked him. He frowns at the small lump of coal on the dock before him. No bigger than an apple. He almost laughs at the pathetic attempt on his life.
At least one of them will suffer. He lifts his robes and steps onto the calm water. He will enjoy this.
The beat of wings stops him in his tracks and he spins around. The dragon glides through the air. It banks and then swoops down. Jaws snapping at him. The spell has been broken. He mutters an obscenity at the boy and lets his hold on the water go. He splashes under the surface and dives. Drawing physical strength into his tired old body. He hears a furious bellow as the beast misses its prey and takes back to the sky. It will return to the mountains now that it is free. Curses. It had taken over three weeks to get it close enough to control, and for what? A few burning buildings. He kicks his legs and struggles back to the dock. He drags his wheezing body from the cold water and shivers in the night air. Across the harbor he sees the kid clamber out of the rowboat and take off into the town.
That one’s head will decorate a spike outside his chambers before the sun is out.
Darwin’t struggles out of the ghoul’s reach. It clambers over the fallen crate and lurches towards its victim. Darwin’t searches the area for something to use as a weapon. On the floor slightly in front of the approaching monster is a thick length of wood twice as long as his arm.
The dragon thunders across the sky, heading away from the water. The ghoul lifts its dead eyes skywards and follows its path. Darwin’t uses the distraction. He rushes forwards and grasps for the beam, which turns out to be a fence post. His fingers wrap around the tip and he hefts it upwards like a mace. The ghoul staggers forwards, arms outstretched, a low groan escaping from its lips.
/> Darwin’t steps in and swings the club; remembering his games as a child. He and Danlynn would use a piece of picket fence and apples from the orchard to play Gye-ball. One would stand in the centre of a circle and the others around would chuck the apples in. They had to shout “Gye” two seconds before they bowled their apple. The batter had to hit as many out of the circle as he could. He had been the best.
The first blow takes the face off of the ghoul. Blood and black gore spill down its front and it drops to its knees. He swings the club back and crushes the brittle skull against the crate. The corpse drops dead. Again.
He stares at the mess he has made of it with disgust. That had once been a living thing. He cannot take his eyes away from the body of what must have been a middle-aged man.
A loud scream cuts through the air.
“Danlynn,” he calls as he begins to run, the dead beast forgotten. He rounds a corner. Rubble from a collapsed building—it must have been a bakery—blocks the road. He clambers over the debris, pulling a tea-cart out of his way. From the top he can see into the next two streets.
He gasps.
The scene before him is one of chaos and horror. People run in all directions. Children cling to mothers’ skirts while men race about with buckets of water to staunch the spread of the dragon’s fire. Over a quarter of the great harbor is burning and another quarter has been pulled down and cleared, removing any flammable materials. It is a battle this town is losing. Dead bodies litter as much of the streets’ roads as rubble does. Dead bodies not moving.
Why? Has the Dark Wizard moved on?
