Dragontiarna

by Jonathan Moeller

  “There are more muridach tracks here,” said Third. “Doubtless the muridachs find it easier to use this entrance.”

  “This might be a separate ruin,” said Selene. “The western ruin and this one might not connect.”

  “It’s also possible,” said Rilmael, “that the ruins entirely encircle Sinderost. Let’s take a look around. Maybe we’ll find one of these mysterious obelisks that the muridachs mentioned.”

  Tyrcamber nodded and took the lead, Third and Rilmael walking behind him, Selene bringing up the back. The stairs went straight down for perhaps ten yards and then became a spiral. Down they went, crystals in the wall providing dull illumination every so often.

  At last the stairs ended, and Tyrcamber stepped into a vast space. It was a great pillared hall, with thick columns supporting the vaulted ceiling. The columns had been carved with reliefs showing the dark elves torturing captured cloak elves, countless images of cruelty and torment repeated over and over. The pillars rose to the arched ceiling, and dull red light gleamed from crystals set into the arches. Tyrcamber looked back and forth and saw that rows of the pillars extended off into the gloom.

  Spaced between the pillars were white stone boxes that looked like sarcophagi, albeit with missing lids. Their sides had been carved not with reliefs but with rows of sigils and glyphs.

  “God and the saints, this place is huge,” said Tyrcamber, taking a few cautious steps forward. “If it ever collapsed, it would create a new lake.” He looked at Tyrcamber. “I wonder if Theudeuric thinks to tunnel into the city and assassinate the new Emperor and the Dukes.”

  “Perhaps, but I doubt it,” said Rilmael. “We’re at least a mile from the New City by this point, and Sinderost is built on bedrock.” He pointed his staff at the great wall that stretched into the gloom behind him. “I suspect none of the ruins go any closer to Sinderost than this. Else they would have been discovered long ago when someone digging a cellar broke into them by accident.” He gave an irritated shake of his head. “I am more annoyed that I didn’t find this place earlier.”

  “From what I have been told of the Sight,” said Third, “it sometimes has difficulty showing you things that you do not know exist.”

  “What are those sarcophagi?” said Tyrcamber. “Is this place a tomb?”

  “Of a sort,” said Rilmael. “I will show you.”

  They walked to the nearest sarcophagus. The box of white stone was empty, but a strange chemical reek came from it, reminding Tyrcamber of some of the odors he had encountered in an apothecary’s shop. The bottom third of the sarcophagus’s interior had been stained a dull blue as if paint had somehow soaked into the stone.

  “This was the Embalmer’s work,” said Rilmael, pointing into the sarcophagus. “He would fill a sarcophagus like this with a bath of alchemical salts and submerge a corpse in it. The corpse would rise as an undead soldier. A quick and efficient way to create an undead army.”

  “Are those salts still active?” said Selene. “Perhaps that is what the Fallen Order and the muridachs are doing here, raising an undead army.”

  “Perhaps,” said Rilmael, “but not with the Embalmer’s secrets. The salts would have lost their potency thousands of years ago. All that remains is the stain on the stone and the stench.” He looked towards the ceiling. “I suspect this place is not so much a ruin as it is unfinished. All the Dragon Imperator’s vassals constantly plotted against him. I wager that the Embalmer constructed this underground complex in secret to raise an army against the Dragon Imperator. Then he and all his knights and slaves were slain, and this place was forgotten.”

  “Until Theudeuric opened it again,” said Tyrcamber.

  “I do not know if this is true of the muridachs of the Empire,” said Third, “but the muridachs of Owyllain rarely raise undead.”

  “They’re too hungry,” said Selene. “They eat their slain and the slain of their foes. They’ll use necromancy, but they don’t raise physical undead. They see it as wasteful.”

  “A mystery,” said Tyrcamber. “And a dangerous one. If we don’t understand what the Fallen Order was doing here, they will almost certainly use it against us.”

  “Let’s explore a little more,” said Rilmael. “Then we can return to Sinderost and tell the Prince and Duke Chilmar that we’ve found another entrance.”

  Tyrcamber nodded, and at Third’s suggestion, they began walking the perimeter of the vast room. Nothing else moved in the forest of white columns, and the place was as silent as a tomb. They found another archway on the far side of the great chamber, an archway that opened into a high, vaulted corridor.

  Ghostly blue light flickered and danced at the end of the corridor.

  “Someone is wielding spells of necromancy ahead,” said Rilmael, blinking as he used the Sight.

  “Should we go back for more men?” said Selene.

  Rilmael and Third shared a look. She raised one eyebrow, and Rilmael smiled a little.

  “We do have two Dragontiarna Knights with us,” said Rilmael. “The odds are likely in our favor.”

  “But we had best not be overconfident,” said Tyrcamber. “Even Dragontiarna Knights are not invincible. I think we should take a look. Perhaps we can learn what the Fallen Order has been doing here.”

  “Agreed,” said Rilmael, shifting his staff to his left hand and drawing his sword with his right. “Follow me. Try to remain quiet.”

  The Guardian led the way down the corridor. The hallway was silent, though the flashes of blue light at the end became brighter. They threw shadows across the reliefs of the walls, which showed the dark elves torturing and mutilating other kindreds. The dark elves loved cruelty, craved it the way a drunkard yearned for strong drink. Did not Tyrcamber know it well? Had he not experienced the Valedictor’s cruelty over and over again in the Chamber of the Sight?

  One of the reliefs showed a dark elf riding on the back of a chained dragon.

  Tyrcamber shuddered and pushed aside the memories, forcing his attention to his surroundings. That would indeed be an ignominious end for a Dragontiarna Knight, to be ambushed and slain as he brooded upon the past.

  The corridor ended in another high archway that opened onto a wide balcony. Third gestured, and Tyrcamber and the others dropped to a crouch, crawling along until they reached the ornamental stone railing.

  The balcony overlooked a large hall, though the chamber wasn’t nearly as large as the pillared room with the sarcophagi. Rows of stone benches faced a wide dais on the left. It looked almost like the great hall of a Duke or maybe even the Emperor himself, though no Duke of the Empire would have scenes of torture carved upon the walls.

  Dozens of undead moved through the hall. They were minor undead, animated skeletons created by the Knights of Blood, though they had chain mail and carried swords and shields. The undead were not the only things moving through the chamber. Tyrcamber saw a half-dozen urvaalgs, twisted war beasts created by the sorcery of the dark elves. The things looked like ghastly hybrids of wolf and ape, ropes of greasy black fur hanging from their hides, their eyes burning like coals.

  Three Knights of Blood stood on the dais, casting spells. The knights wore the black plate mail favored by their order. Their helmets were off, revealing their gray-skinned, hairless heads and the black veins threading through their flesh. Their eyes were a solid red, the color of blood congealing into a clot. The three knights stood around a massive hulk that looked as if it had been stitched together out of corpses. Pulses of blue fire leaped from their hands and sank into the hulk, which was leaking translucent slime.

  A wide flight of stairs led from the balcony to the floor. Tyrcamber considered summoning magic and hurling an attack at the Knights of Blood but decided against it. He didn’t know how powerful the knights would be, and they might have more reinforcements out of sight. No, better to retreat with the others and decide on a plan of attack…

  Third flinched and looked up.

  Tyrcamber frowned and followed her gaze.
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  A dozen dark, spindly shapes crawled along the wall overhead, their claws grasping the stone with ease. They looked vaguely like oversized monkeys, albeit monkeys with black-scaled bodies, venomous yellow eyes, and rows of poisoned spines running down their backs, arms, and legs. The creatures were urhaalgars, another of the dark elves’ war beasts, creatures they used as scouts and assassins.

  And a dozen of them were looking right at Tyrcamber.

  With tearing shrieks, the creatures leaped off the wall and attacked.

  The others exploded into motion. Selene hurled a shard of magical ice that pierced one of the urhaalgars. Rilmael cast a spell, and a cone of fire burst from his hand, immolating three of the creatures. At the last possible second, Third disappeared in a pulse of blue fire, and the urhaalgars that had aimed at her smacked hard into the ground. The creatures recovered, scrambling back to their feet, but Third reappeared, Storm and Inferno flashing with lightning and flame in her hands.

  For his part, Tyrcamber had dodged the urhaalgars, but the three Knights of Blood on the dais had seen the intruders. All three knights whirled and began casting a spell, blue fire and shadow twisting around their armored hands. Tyrcamber had seen the Knights of the Fallen Order use that spell before, and he knew they were about to fling a withering lance of death magic at the balcony. He summoned his own power, letting the fire of the Malison fill him, and gestured. A large Shield spell appeared as a stream of shadow and ghostly fire ripped from the dark knights. The attack hit Tyrcamber’s Shield with considerable force, but he deflected the magic.

  An urhaalgar sprang at him, jaws yawning wide to expose needle-like fangs, and Tyrcamber slashed Kyathar across its throat. The creature fell dead at his feet and slid away, and Tyrcamber whirled, but he saw that Rilmael, Third, and Selene had already slain the other urhaalgars. The undead surged towards the stairs, and the three knights on the dais were already casting another spell. There was no sign of the urvaalgs, which was bad since that meant they had used their stealth ability to disappear.

  “Hold!” thundered one of the Knights of Blood, pointing at Tyrcamber. His gaunt, gray face twisted in a snarl, his blood-colored eyes narrowed. “It seems we meet again, Tyrcamber Rigamond. Still running after the Guardian like an obedient dog?”

  The voice was familiar…

  “Sir Erkan?” said Tyrcamber.

  He had faced the black knight twice before. The first time had been years ago, in the catacombs beneath Tamisa, on the day that Tyrcamber had first learned of the existence of the Fallen Order. That encounter had ended with Sir Erkan’s death. The second had been a few weeks ago at the village of Gastdorf in Valstrasia. Sir Erkan had killed all the villagers and raised them as undead. That encounter had also ended with Sir Erkan’s demise, but death had only a loose hold upon the Knights of the Fallen Order. Their souls were bound within soulstones hidden within their secret fortress, and so long as those soulstones were intact, Sir Erkan could move his corrupted spirit into a new body and live (in a way) again.

  Tyrcamber had just not expected it to be so soon.

  “I am pleased you deign to remember me, Sir Tyrcamber,” said Erkan. “Twice now, you have hindered me. There will not be a third time.”

  The undead clustered at the base of the stairs, ready to charge. Tyrcamber still could not see the urvaalgs, which worried him.

  “Perhaps you should reconsider,” said Rilmael. “The path you are on can lead only to destruction.”

  “It shall lead to your destruction, Guardian,” said Erkan. “The Order of Blood will make the worthy among mankind into immortals, and we shall lead the Empire to glory and power. We shall break the curse of the Malison. And we shall destroy all those who stand in our way, including you and the elves of Cathair…”

  “Yes, yes, you gave me that speech both of the last two times we fought,” said Tyrcamber, and Selene laughed. “What are you doing here? You might as well tell me and save yourself some effort. You know that I will find out.”

  “The urvaalgs,” murmured Rilmael in a low voice. “They’re climbing up the side of the balcony. When Erkan gives the word, they’ll attack. Be ready.”

  “I’ll deal with the undead,” whispered Tyrcamber, summoning power for a spell.

  “You will find out,” said Erkan, “but at the proper time, no sooner.”

  “Why have you allied with the muridachs?” said Tyrcamber.

  Erkan’s gaunt face twisted into a smile. “A wise captain always seeks allies in a time of war.”

  “These obelisks,” said Rilmael. “The muridachs mentioned them. What are they?”

  Erkan went motionless, and a silent communication seemed to pass between him and the other two knights.

  “Kill them!” shouted Erkan.

  Several things happened at once.

  Erkan and the other two Knights of Blood began casting spells. The hulking thing behind the three knights jerked and stirred, beginning to stand up. It looked like a crude human shape stitched together out of dead flesh. The skeletal undead rushed up the stairs. A tearing metallic scream filled Tyrcamber’s ears, and the blurred shapes of urvaalgs vaulted over the stone railing, becoming visible as they attacked.

  But Rilmael, Third, and Selene were ready for them. The Guardian hurled a Lance spell of lightning that ripped through two of the urvaalgs, knocking them back off the balcony. Tyrcamber wasn’t sure if they were dead or not. Third’s swords flashed, and she cut down two more of the urvaalgs. Selene buried her axe in the skull of another, black slime flying from the wound.

  Tyrcamber whirled and cast a spell of his own, hurling a pulsing sphere of flame down the stairs. It landed among the charging undead and exploded, engulfing them in a brilliant curtain of flame. Most of the undead fell apart, the necromantic power binding them consumed by the magic. Perhaps four or five of the creatures rushed up the stairs, wreathed in fire. Tyrcamber met them with Kyathar in his right hand. He cut down two of undead, destroyed a third with a Lance spell, and then finished the remaining creatures.

  He whirled to face the Knights of Blood and saw that Rilmael was locked in a battle of spells. Shield spells shone around the Guardian, and his staff crackled with lightning and flame. Third had vanished, but she reappeared atop the dais, her swords driving for Sir Erkan’s back. But Erkan was ready for her, and wraith-armor sprang to life around him, sheathing his form in rippling shadows. He spun, driving his sword at Third, but she disappeared first.

  Meanwhile, the hulking thing stood and lumbered across the hall.

  “Tyrcamber!” shouted Rilmael, magic blazing around him. “Get that undead. Third and I will deal with the knights.”

  Tyrcamber nodded and ran for the stairs, Selene following him. He reached the floor of the hall and saw the giant thing running towards him. The creature stood twelve feet tall and reeked of chemicals, its body held together by rough leather stitching. It smelled much the same as the chemicals in the sarcophagi in the pillared chamber. Perhaps the Knights of Blood had taken the opportunity to study some of the Embalmer’s techniques for raising undead.

  He pointed Kyathar and cast the Fire Stream spell, and the wrist-thick shaft of flame blazed from his sword and struck the hulking undead. It hit the creature in the chest and burst out its back to splash against the far wall. The stench of burned flesh drowned out the chemical reek.

  But the creature kept coming.

  Tyrcamber cursed, took Kyathar’s hilt in both hands, and cast the Armor and the Sword spells simultaneously. Searing flame engulfed Kyathar’s blade, and a halo of flame surrounded Tyrcamber.

  “Go left!” yelled Selene, and she ran to the right. Tyrcamber nodded and went to the left, and silver light shivered around Selene. A dozen illusionary duplicates of her appeared, each one wielding sword and axe. The hulking undead had no eyes that Tyrcamber could see, but nonetheless, Selene’s illusions fooled it. The creature hesitated, and Selene cast another spell, driving an ice spike into its left knee.

  Tyrcamber
grasped her strategy at once, and he went for the creature’s right leg. He swung Kyathar in a two-handed blow, and the burning blade sank into the creature’s knee. It staggered, and its right fist swung for his head. Tyrcamber ducked, the massive fist sailing past his face and the flames of his Armor spell wrapped around its thick fingers. The creature rocked back, and Tyrcamber hammered Kyathar into the knee again. At the same time, Selene struck its left leg, and the hulk rocked. Tyrcamber stepped to the side and pointed Kyathar, summoning a storm of magic. The Fire Stream spell ripped from the sword and drilled through both of the hulking undead creature’s legs, and it stumbled. Selene chopped her axe into its left leg again, and this time the weapon sheared through the knee. The lower leg fell away, black slime spurting from the wound, and the hulk fell forward and landed upon its stomach.

  Tyrcamber stabbed Kyathar into its back, the sword sinking to its hilt, and threw his full strength into his next spell. Fire exploded from the blade and slashed into the hulking undead, spreading through its veins, and for an instant, it looked as if a map of fire had been written upon its scarred skin.

  Then it heaved once more and went limp, the necromantic power burned away.

  Tyrcamber ripped Kyathar free from the hulk, the fire of his Sword spell burning away the creature’s slime. He turned back towards the dais just in time to see Third disappear again. She was using the same tactics she had employed against the Knights of Blood in the village of Muldorf, disappearing and reappearing with dizzying speed as she hammered away at their defenses. The tactics were working. The wraith-armor had turned tattered and was unraveling even as Tyrcamber looked.

  He summoned power and worked the Lance spell as he charged, drawing as much magic as he could. Tyrcamber hurled three Lance spells of flame in rapid succession, hammering at the defenses of the Knight of Blood on the left. The knight staggered, trying to rebuild his wards, but the third Lance blasted through his wraith-armor and melted through some of his black plate. Before he could recover, Tyrcamber leaped on the dais and took off his head. The knight’s armored body collapsed with a clang, the head rolling away.