by Joseph Lallo
“You will have to teach me that,” Myranda said, thrusting another corpse backward to clear the path behind them.
“Surely,” he replied, casting the weapon out for a second sweep.
As the pair made their way forward in that manner, Ether trudged toward the next crypt. Her stone form, for the moment, was weathering the constant attacks of the swarm of undead that shambled in to replace those she'd incinerated. A heavy swing of her stone arm bashed apart the creatures, but their numbers were wearing on her. She'd seen Lain on the rooftop, dislodging another of the crystals, and similarly noticed the effect it had had on their foes. When she reached the crypt she thrust her claw-like stone fingers into the wall and began to scale it, her ponderous gait only slightly greater than that of the horde that followed her.
Lain finally broke free the last of the crystals, returning a few scattered clusters of the undead to lifelessness. The doors of a handful more crypts had failed, leaving the valley more flooded with the walking dead than before. They were rapidly losing ground. Worse, the writhing mob of living dead below had made it to the roof, climbing over one another to reach him. He hacked and sliced at the creatures, but as quickly as they were struck down, more replaced them. There was no safe way down the wall. His gaze shifted to the roof of the next crypt, then down to the crowded alley below. There was no other choice. He sheathed his sword, kicked a revenant out of his way, and launched himself off of the roof. He collided with the wall of his next target about half way down, managing to just barely find a grip. He scrambled up to the top, the tide of living dead already shifting toward him.
Below, the cost of Ivy's frenzy was beginning to show. The jagged, bony fingers and broken teeth of the wretches she hacked at had found their way to her flesh more than once, and she was taking less and less notice of it. Her own safety was being washed away by this strengthening compulsion to strike down these undead soldiers. As the whirring blade of Deacon swept around her, eliminating the threats nearest to her, she turned instead to hacking the still twitching remains below her to pieces. Anything to sink the weapon into her enemy. Myranda and Deacon called for her to stop, but their voices were distant. As they drew closer, she turned to them. Her mind saw them as friends, but this madness saw them as something else. She didn't know it, but what she felt now was the same programming that drove the nearmen, forced upon her while she was still in the clutches of the D'karon. And now it demanded that these wizards taste the blade. The malthrope lunged at them. Midway through the attack the dim realization that she was attacking her friends finally broke through to the surface. She managed to halt the weapon a hairsbreadth away from Myranda and recoiled, dropping the weapon. Deacon took the task of keeping back the constant push of undead entirely upon himself as Myranda looked after Ivy.
“What was that? Are you alright?” Myranda asked, looking her over for injuries and quickly healing those she found.
“I . . . I couldn't control it. Those blasted teachers . . . I think that is how they trained me to fight,” Ivy said. “I don't like it.”
“Are you in control now?” Myranda asked.
Ivy nodded vigorously.
“Good. I want you to follow me. There must be some place in this valley that the undead can't reach. Once you are there, I want you to stay there while we take care of . . . “ Myranda explained.
“No! I am one of you. I am part of this team. I am going to help,” Ivy demanded.
One of the walking corpses lashed at Deacon, its attack grazing his arm. There was no time to argue.
“Fine. Take the sword, we've got to . . . “ Myranda relented.
“No! I don't like myself with a sword in my hand. Just tell me what we need to do, I'll manage,” Ivy said.
“Fine. Do you see those crystals? We need to break every last one of them,” Myranda said.
Ivy looked to the roofs, then to the field of lumbering undead between them. A dozen fears tugged for her mind's attention, but she shook them away and heaved herself forward. Instantly, instincts took over, but these were more familiar, more welcome. Her steps took on a certain fluidity and rhythm. She twisted and turned, slipping through the slightest gap in the line of foes. The density of the creatures became greater, her maneuvers became increasingly acrobatic. Tumbles, handsprings, and rolls finally took her to the base of a crypt. With a speed and deft precision that more than rivaled Lain's, she made her way to the roof. Once there, alas, her grace vanished, as she began to pound and bash at the stone spires that bore the crystals with her bare hands. Though lacking the finesse of her ascent, it was nonetheless effective, as her deceptively strong blows steadily weakened the supports of the spires.
A few buildings away, Ether finally finished her laborious climb. Approaching the crystal, she heaved a heavy backhand at it, shattering it in one blow, but staggering backward. A sharp pain ran up her arm. It was the crystal. The spell protecting it was no concern, but the accursed crystal itself pulled hungrily at her own strength when she touched it. She turned angrily to the next spire and stalked toward it. One of the undead pulled itself onto the roof ahead of her. Ether grasped the rotting creature by the throat and hurled it at the spire, ruining the creature and dislodging the crystal in one blow. She dispatched the next three foes and the next three crystals in the same manner. When her work on this roof was done, she stepped to the edge and dove off, bringing those corpses below her to a rather messy end as well. Meanwhile, Deacon's blade was taking longer and longer to clear a swath through the ever thickening throng of creatures, and they had yet to reach a crypt.
“This isn't working. We need to keep these things from escaping. You do something to brace the doors that haven't broken free. I'll try to stop the ghouls that have already escaped,” Myranda said.
Deacon nodded and recalled his blade. He raised his crystal and focused on the nearest door that had not yet given way. The gap between the doors began to glow. As the glow faded away, so did the gap, leaving a solid stone wall where there had once been a door. Myranda swept together as much of the melted slush and snow that had resulted from Ether's earlier onslaught as she could and cast it over as many of the undead as she could manage. When she could not drench any more of them, she set her mind to summoning an intense wind and bone chilling cold and directed it at the mob. Gradually their plodding movements slowed, until the creatures she had managed to douse were frozen solid. Now safe from the attackers, Myranda wove between them as quickly as she could to help Deacon.
Deeper in the valley, far from the patch of living dead immobilized by the wizards, Ether had yet to make it to the next crypt. The undead had formed a solid wall in front of her, and no amount of hacking, shoving, and bashing afforded her a single additional step. Worse, the shambling mass began to crawl upon one another, like insects, mounding up on her and attacking from all sides. Finally, she gave up on her stone form. Gathering what little strength she hadn't already squandered, Ether turned her mind to the long list of creatures that she'd sampled from the case Deacon had pilfered. Selecting one, she set about taking on the form. The undulating pile of undead that had crept over her began to heave and bulge upward, before she finally burst from the pile, soaring skyward. Now in the form of a griffin, she swept quickly back and plucked up a pair of the undead and spiraled high into the air, dropping them with deadly accuracy, shattering two of the crystals before diving to fetch two more.
Ivy finished shattering the crystals in the roof and rushed to the edge to climb down, only to be suddenly and intensely reminded of her fear of heights. Try as she might, she could not push this fear aside as she had the others. She retreated to the peak of the roof, the undead swarm beginning to creep over the edge and close in on her. She backed to the shattered remains of the topmost spire as the creeping terror drew nearer.
“H-help,” she whimpered meekly, reluctant to turn to the others.
The spire she leaned on gave way, nearly taking her with it as it plummeted to the ground below.
�
��HELP!” she cried, her hesitation gone.
A moment later she felt a sharp tug and was yanked into the air by her waist. She released an earsplitting scream as she watched the rooftop drop away beneath her.
“Cease that screaming, beast!” Ether warned.
“I DON'T CARE! PUT ME DOWN! I'LL TAKE MY CHANCES WITH THE DEAD PEOPLE!” she shrieked, her eyes clamped shut.
Ether dipped and deposited Ivy on a roof on the far side of the valley.
Ivy, opening her eyes reluctantly, suddenly cried out. “No, no! On the ground! ON THE GROUND!”
Ether ignored the pleas. Ivy kicked the nearest spire, dislodging it with a single blow, the dash of anger giving her a surge of strength. She stomped over to the next spire and tugged at it, snapping its base and dragging it with her as she continued her tantrum. She grumbled loudly, punctuating her complaints by smashing additional spires with the makeshift club.
“What sort of a stupid IDIOT takes someone who is afraid of HEIGHTS and drops them on a ROOF!” she cried, destroying the other spires.
Now once again trapped on the roof with nothing more to do, she swung the crumbling remains of the makeshift club in a few circles and hurled it. It soared in a high arc, smashing into the stone platform in the center of the valley.
Deacon was rushing through the narrow walkways between the structures, finding it harder and harder to find one that did not already have the undead pouring from it. Myranda followed just behind conjuring up freezing winds, tangling vines, and anything else she could think of to slow the flood of creatures. Finally, Deacon came to a stop, trying desperately to catch his breath.
“It is no good… There are too many loose already,” he panted. “I need to get to a roof. I might be able to figure something out about these crystals.”
After an abortive attempt to levitate himself to the roof, he willed a portion of a shattered door into a makeshift ladder. With his crystal floating faithfully beside him as he ascended, he made his way to the roof, destroying the ladder when Myranda was safely beside him.
“If those things start to climb, do what you can to keep them off of me, if you would,” Deacon requested.
Myranda nodded. The wail of ruined voices and the shuffle of withered feet was constant. Picking out which was closest or what might be a threat was nearly impossible. Deacon, on the other hand, filtered it all out, committing the whole of his considerable attention to the largest of the radiant crystals. He held his own crystal up to the larger one and furrowed his brow, eyes darting occasionally, almost as through he were reading. Without the pair of them below actively slowing the progress of the undead swarm, it was not long before they began to work their way up the sides of the crypt.
On a distant roof of his own, Lain was just finishing the final spire. Most of the crypts were near enough to one another for him to leap directly from roof to roof. The undead were too slow to reach him before he moved onto the next roof, and too mindless to climb onto adjacent roofs, rendering them a non-issue for him. As he chose his next target, he saw Ivy, far in the distance, hesitantly approaching the edge of a roof before retreating amid a splash of blue. His eyes swept across the roofs. Most around him were littered with the sinewy remains of those unlucky enough to be chosen by Ether as a projectile, not a spire remaining. Breaking into a sprint, he bounded from roof to roof when they were near enough, and down to the ground when he needed to. His blade made a path through the legion of undead who, despite the considerable efforts of he and his allies, only seemed to be growing thicker.
In moments Lain had carved a path to Ivy, bursting up to the roof where she stood. She was first startled, then relieved by his appearance. He took her by the hand and led her to the edge of the roof. She reluctantly allowed herself to be pulled along, but as the ground came into view, she pulled back again, drawing in a sharp breath and trying hard to push down the rising fear.
“You can do this,” he insisted.
“No. No I can't, Lain,” Ivy stammered, crouching and covering her eyes.
“Ivy. Listen to me. Listen!” he ordered, jerking her hands away from her face.
She locked her tear moistened eyes on his gaze.
“Stand up. Do you see that roof there?” he said, pointing to the next crypt.
“I don't want to . . . “ she began.
“Look! Do you see it?” he repeated forcefully.
She nodded.
“I want you to jump to that roof. Don't look down. Just look to the roof. You can make it,” he instructed.
She took a shaky breath as he led her back for the running start. Her eyes were on the far roof. Lain held her hand and took his first steps forward. She forced herself forward, charging down the slope of the roof a half step behind him. When she reached the edge she shut her eyes tight and jumped. A moment later she crashed down, sliding first up, then down an icy surface. She splayed out, digging her claws into the ice and clenching her teeth against the fear. When she slid to a stop, she felt a sharp nudge at her shoulder. Cautiously opening her eyes, she found that she was clutching the shingles on the opposite side of the peak of the roof she'd been aiming for. She'd nearly cleared the entire crypt.
“I . . . I did it!” she cried, springing to her feet and bouncing about happily.
Lain nodded before dropping from the roof and climbing to another. Ivy took a few more moments to savor her achievement before setting to the task of destroying the crystals once more. Overhead, fatigue was beginning to get the better of Ether. Locked entirely into this form to limit the parasitic effect of the crystals, she found herself subject the weaknesses of the form as well as the strengths. Settling her massive shape down on one of the roofs furthest from the others, the shape shifter took a moment to catch her breath and survey her progress. Perhaps a third of the crypts were rid of their spires, as mound after mound of once again motionless dead would attest to. Curiously, it seemed that those they had defeated had been completely replaced with more to spare.
Deacon continued to stare at the crystal, occasionally shouting out an observation to Myranda, oblivious to how quickly she was losing ground to the undead that dragged themselves in ever increasing numbers onto the roof. She quickly learned that, now as near to the magic absorbing crystals as she was, it was best to resort to more traditional means of dispatching the horde. The bow was removed from her shoulder, and arrows were carefully aimed. The sinewy walking dead offered little resistance to the arrows. Her shafts passed right through them, and often through the creature behind as well. The mindless beasts were soon being struck down three to an arrow, and still the roof grew more dangerous.
“Hurry!” Myranda called out, finally resorting to blasts of wind to knock the swarm from the roof. Sure enough, the nearest crystals took on a far brighter glow and a handful of the fallen dead rose once more.
“There are three spells. One shielding the crystal, one supporting these creatures, and . . . I cannot quite determine the last one,” he said, finally deciding he was out of time.
He stepped back and flexed his mind. Steadily his influence spread. One by one the surrounding crystals took on a brighter and brighter glow as they drew in the strength that was pouring out of him. More and more of the corpses that had been deprived of the unholy force that was fueling them stirred and rose from the ground.
“What are you doing?” Myranda cried.
“Just a moment more . . . “ he struggled.
Finally, every last one of the surviving crystals was glowing brightly. There was a brief flash in the heart of each one, and finally he relented, nearly losing his footing as the vast mental effort came to an end.
“There. The shield spell. It was the only one I could break,” he said.
Myranda drew back an arrow and let it fly at a crystal on a nearby roof. It shattered easily.
“The crystals are vulnerable. Shatter them directly!” Myranda cried.
Lain put blade to crystal again. This time the brittle gem shattered. Ivy fetched up a r
ock and did the same. Myranda launched arrow after arrow. Deacon guided his deadly blade. The undead dropped by the dozen with each crystal broken. In mere minutes, the whole of the valley was stripped of every last gem. The heroes gathered on a single roof to survey the aftermath. Every last patch of ground was piled high with the remains of the horde.
“That was an ordeal,” Deacon said, wiping beads of sweat from his brow.
Myranda looked over the horrid sight with revulsion. As stomach turning as the landscape was, littered with the dead, a thought entered her mind that she could not shake.
“It isn't enough,” Myranda said.
“I'd say it is plenty enough!” Ivy said inching cautiously to the edge of the roof before pulling back. “I really don't like it up here.”
“No. I mean. This war has been going on for more than a century. If the fallen of each battle have all been brought here, there should be more,” she said.
“You give the D'karon more credit than they deserve. They couldn't possibly account for every last casualty,” Ether offered.
“Even so . . . “ Myranda said distantly.
Lain closed his eyes. Ivy did the same.
“Uh oh,” Ivy said. “Do you hear that?”
Lain nodded, adding. “Underground.”
“What do you mean, underground?” Deacon asked.
“Look!” Myranda called, pointing to the stone platform in the center of the valley.
The spire Ivy had hurled at it was gone. In its place was a hole. Beyond it, darkness. Myranda made her way down to the ground, trying to push from her mind the fact that the mounds she trudged over had at one time been human beings. Deacon and Lain followed. Ether, still in the griffin form, glided from the roof, leaving Ivy behind.
