Sea of Souls, page 9
Harruld lit a torch, and the two guards entered the cabin. Harruld cried out. ‘Fiddy! What the—?’ He stuck his head out the door. ‘Here. Toryn. Something is up with Fidric. Come and take a look.’
Toryn hurried over. He squeezed between Harruld and Odrun into the small cabin. Harruld held up the torch. Toryn jumped back. Fidric stood ramrod straight at the center. His eyes stared at Toryn, but appeared not to see him. Harruld shook his head. 'Have you seen anything as strange as this on your travels?’ He waved the flame in front of Fidric’s face and exclaimed. ‘He don’t even blink.’
Odrun scoffed. ‘Never seen him stand like that even when inspected by the Archon.’ He leaned closer. ‘Is that frost?’ He touched the guard’s cheek, then snatched his hand back. ‘Stone cold.’ He rubbed his hands. ‘It’s like a blade on a winter’s morn.’
‘Well have you, lad?’ Harruld lowered the torch. ‘Have you seen anything like this?’
Toryn looked the guard in the eye. 'No, I can't say I've—’ He froze. A glint of green flashed behind Fidric’s glassy gaze. ‘But I’ve seen that green before... and that wasn’t good.’ A line spread from the corner of Fidric’s lips. The thin layer of ice cracked. His mouth gaped, stretching unnaturally wide. His eyes bulged. His scream chilled Toryn’s heart.
The guard lunged at Toryn. He jumped back, but Fidric was too fast. His icy hands grasped his neck and drove his thumbs into Toryn’s throat. He staggered, gasping for air as Odrun and Harruld grappled with Fidric. With the little strength he had left, Toryn slammed down hard on Fidric's arms. His body shuddered as if he had struck a stone pillar. Lights flickered at the edges of his vision. Odrun grabbed a spear. He knocked Fidric over the head as Harruld slammed into the guard. The four crashed out of the cabin door. The groping fingers released. Toryn pitched forward and coughed. At his feet, Fidric laid with his arms extended as if still intent on choking his victim.
Harruld kneeled and felt for a pulse. He looked up. ‘He’s dead.’
Odrun dropped the spear. ‘How can he be? I didn’t hit him that hard. He’s a tough nut. That blow shouldn’t have done for him.’ He turned. ‘You alright, Toryn?’
‘I’ll survive.’ He coughed and rubbed his throat. ‘Lucky you came with me, eh.’
Harruld ran his hands down Fidric’s body. ‘There’s no sign of a wound. I’ve seen him take blows that would have brought down an ox. Could he have been dead before we got here?’
Toryn followed Fidric’s glassy gaze to the emerging stars. ‘Dead? He moved.’
Odrun shivered. ‘But what about them tales… the one’s from Nordruuk? Death don’t mean nothing to that lot.’
Harruld groaned as he stood. ‘Just tales, Oddy. You can’t go believing every word spoken around the campfire. Anyways, best you go and check what’s happened to the others. By the Three, I hope they’ve not suffered the same fate as poor Fiddy.’
Odrun turned to the gate. ‘Surely not all of them. They’re strong fellows. Well capable of looking after themselves.’
‘Then where are they?’
Odrun picked up the spear. ‘I’ll find them. Then we’ll get to the bottom of this.’
Toryn nodded to the fallen guard. ‘Did you know him well?’
‘Not as well as Oddy, but we’re all brothers. I’ve fought the Ruuk by his side a few times.’ Harruld bent and folded Fidric’s arms across his chest. ‘Just tragic. He survived the carnage at Midsummer, only to die like this. Ah… the poor soul. Trying to throttle a fellow guard won’t earn his farm on the plain. Tragic. Just tragic.’
Odrun hurried back. ‘Harruld! They’re all dead!’
‘Dead?’ Harruld gaped. ‘All of them? You sure?’
‘Yes, all of them.’ Odrun’s eyes widened. ‘Worse than dead, I’d say. All shriveled, shrunken even.’
Toryn checked the gate. ‘What could have happened? The gate’s not breached. Who could have done…?’ His heart sank. The stone. Nyomae suspected another spell lay within. It had to be the work of the stone.
Odrun grasped Toryn’s arm. ‘Something killed them. Their faces. It’s like they’re still in pain.’ Toryn staggered forward as if a dagger had been thrust into his gut. Odrun steadied his fall. ‘What is it, lad?’
Toryn’s jaw clenched. He spat out his words. ‘There’s a stone. Beneath the—’
Harruld cried out. ‘Over there.’ He jabbed his finger at the old tower. ‘I don’t like the look of that. That ain’t natural.’ Toryn steadied his stance. He did not have to look — he could taste the wrong. The tower ruins glowed. Toryn’s ears ached as if the air tried to force its way into his skull. A green light rippled across the ground as if a pebble had dropped into a stagnant pond. But Toryn knew this was no pebble. He retched, recalling the foulness that struck down the guards at Drunsberg.
Toryn whispered. ‘We need to leave.’ But no one moved as the marble slab shifted. The scrape echoed loudly in the silence. A large rock tilted, sending the rubble toppling down the pile. The ghoulish glow spread. The ground trembled.
Harruld gaped. ‘What the—? Do they mine beneath the gate? We should raise—’
A sword thrust up from the rubble. ‘By The Three!’ Odrun gawped. A gray, scrawny hand clasped the handle. The sword-bearer’s head appeared. At first, Toryn thought he was looking at a broken helmet. He was wrong. Toryn reeled as the faint glow revealed a shattered skull. The disfigured soldier clambered out of his tomb. Toryn winced at the cracking of bones as the figure straightened. It bent to retrieve its shield and broken helmet. It turned. Gray skin clung to its head. A single, yellowing eye found Toryn. Its lips split as it grinned and raised its sword arm to challenge him.
Harruld spat. ‘Them tales… but I never thought. This is wrong. Very wrong. If it ain't enough this poor guard was buried by their evil, they go and fetch him back from the plains to fight us?’
Odrun leveled his spear. ‘It’s grim, Harry. But it’s just the one. We can deal with one. Let’s do him a favor and send him back to his farm, eh.’
Harruld drew his sword. ‘Agreed, Oddy. As hideous as this poor fellow looks, a swift blow or two will do the trick.’
Toryn stepped to Harruld’s side. ‘Can he be killed? He’s already dead.’
‘Can’t say I’ve ever fought a dead man, lad. But he can’t cause us harm if he’s got no arms or legs. And it ain’t killing him. We’ll grant him the peace he deserves and let him return to Evermore. This is an outrage.’
The forlorn figure stood still, its lipless grin and solitary eye, sickened Toryn.
A rock moved. Harruld turned. ‘Watch out. Looks like he’s got a friend.’ Toryn clenched his sword as another clawed its way through the debris. His stomach churned as the crushed, disfigured soldier rose from the mass grave. But he was not the last. More followed. Toryn stared in horror as a tall, thin guard, with his arms hanging loose at his sides, dragged his sword clattering across the debris to join the end of a ghastly line. The sorrowful figures limped on bent legs, raising their shattered swords with twisted arms. Then as one, they began their advance. They did not rush; they had no need.
Harruld muttered. ‘Get back to the pier. We’ll hold our position there. Remember. Not a step back. What will the others say if they find out we turned tail and ran from these skinny fellows? I reckon these fiends can’t move fast. We’ve got a narrow walkway. They can’t all come at us at once.’
Odrun spat. ‘Ah! That smell. I can taste it.’ To their left, another rock shifted closer to the gate.
‘Here, Oddy. Can you remember who formed up over there?’
Toryn answered. ‘The First Horse. Most survived, but a dozen or so were lost.’
Harruld wavered. ‘No… surely not. They can’t bring back a—’ A mournful squeal escaped from the ground. ‘By the Three. They can. That’s a horse!’
Odrun stumbled back. ‘Horses? No, Harry, no. The horses as well?’
‘Ye gods!’ Harruld grabbed Toryn. ‘They’re raising a ruddy army.’ He twisted away. ’Back to the gate. We can’t fight a horde of dead out here alone.’
9. ONE MORE FOR THE PLAIN
The mountain sides flickered green, growing brighter until the whole pass appeared as if a corrupt sun had risen. Toryn and the guards stumbled across the uneven boards as they fled. Hooves clattered on the wooden slates. Toryn shot a glance over his shoulder. A dozen, once-proud horses, with heads lolling and protruding tongues from fleshless skulls, bore their dead riders. Behind, more guards gathered, numbering close to thirty to form a ghastly militia.
Toryn reached the end of the walkway. Odrun struggled to catch his breath, but the Lower Gate was still some distance away. Harruld hooked his arm under Odrun’s. ‘Come on, old boy. Can’t let the dead outrun you, eh?'
Odrun staggered to a halt. He stooped and gasped. ‘This body’s made for fighting… not running. Just need to… catch my breath. Just need a moment and I’ll be fine.’
Toryn checked behind. ‘A moment’s all we’ve got.’ On the walkway, the horse leading the charge faltered. Its front legs buckled then snapped. The beast slammed into the boards, throwing its rider over the edge. The knight struck the rocks and shattered like a plate. Toryn grimaced. ‘That’ll slow their progress.’
Harruld lifted Odrun to his feet. ‘Come on, big man. You’ve had your rest. Now let’s get to the gate and hold them ghouls from there.’ He laughed. ‘We'll have earned our supper today, eh?’
Odrun managed a smile. ‘Been looking forward to that ham all day.’ He straightened. ‘Ready. Come on then, Harry. Nothing gets between me and my supper.’
They set off just as the stricken horse was bundled off the pier, and the chaotic charge of the dead resumed. Fortunately, the First Horse were not what they once were, and their advance was no faster than a stumbling trot. Even so, a trot was still a match for the two large and aging guards, and they barely arrived at the gatehouse in time to close the inner gates.
Odrun slumped against the ancient wood as Harruld rammed the heavy beam into place. ‘That should keep ‘em out. Can’t think those scrawny scoundrels will have the strength to smash their way through solid oak.’ He looked up at Toryn. ‘This gatehouse was built to keep our people out of the pass, not for an attack from the south. That's the job of the big gate. But while it should keep those dead fellows out, we best play it safe, eh? I’ll raise the alarm.’
Toryn agreed. ‘Wouldn’t hurt to have more than the three of us. And what if the rest rise up? There must be at least four thousand yet to be moved.’
Odrun glanced up, still gasping for air. ‘Now there’s a thought. Thirty or so we could handle from here. But a few thousand? I don’t like them odds.’
Harruld made sure the beam was secure. ‘Oddy. You take Toryn to the parapet and keep an eye on them. I’ll sound the horn and get the boys down here.’
Toryn helped Odrun squeeze his large frame through the narrow doorway and up the spiral staircase. The big guard puffed and blew as he muttered under his breath. ‘This is an outrage. It ain't natural. It ain’t right.’ The horn blared as they emerged from the stairs and into the cool air of the parapet. Toryn rushed to the wall. Below, horses whinnied a pitiful call from their emaciated throats, sounding more like yelping foxes than the fine beasts they had once been. A ragged line of Archonian guards lined up to assail the gate. Above their heads, a faint, green haze hung as if their spirits struggled to free themselves from their broken bodies and return to the plains. A knight of the First Horse nudged his mount. It hobbled towards them just as Harruld crashed through the doorway, carrying three bows and a quiver of arrows. ‘Here we go.’ He peered over the wall. ‘Not sure how much use these will be against the dead, but it might spoil their evening if we can hit ‘em in the eye.’ A horn replied from Archonholm. He glanced over his shoulder. ‘Won’t be long. The lads will be here soon.’ He chuckled. ‘Bet they won’t be expecting this.’
The remaining horses limped behind their leader, bumping into each other as they crowded the foot of the gate. The knights raised their blunted swords and hammered the oak with the pommels of their swords. Odrun jeered. ‘If that's all they've got, we won’t be needing reinforcements. They can do that all night, it’ll never crack.’
Harruld nocked an arrow. ‘Anyways, can’t have ‘em scratching the woodwork.’ He leaned over and let one fly. Toryn joined him and aimed at a gap in a broken helmet. His stomach clenched at the sickening crack as his arrow struck a rider’s skull. But the knight continued his futile attack with the arrow jutting out of his head. ‘Keep going, lad.’ Harruld leveled his bow. ‘Let’s see how many we can spike ‘em with before they give up.’
They shot a dozen or so arrows but failed to stop them. Odrun laughed. 'Would you look at that? It’s an army of huckles.'
Harruld grunted. ‘Whatever they look like, arrows are useless against these dead folk.’
‘Rocks.’ Toryn glanced behind. ‘We need rocks. Very useful at Drunsberg.’
Odrun groaned. ‘Now ain’t that the thing. There are more rocks than we can count out there, and thousands piled up on the other side of the ravine, but not one to be had here.’
To their left, something clattered on the wall. Toryn turned. ‘Ladders?’ He stuck his head over the wall. ‘It’s a decoy. The knights aren’t trying to break through.’ Farther along, the guards had torn the rails from the walkway and propped them against the wall. Toryn ran to the ladder as three soldiers climbed up with surprising speed. He nocked his last arrow and let it fly as the first clambered over. It struck him full in the chest. The soldier stared down at the arrow as if unsure of what had hit him. To Toryn's dismay, the dead man shrugged and drew his broken blade.
Harruld bellowed. ‘Swords! Time to get in their faces, lads.’ Toryn and Odrun flanked him as they hurtled into the attackers scrambling to their feet. Harruld swung hard, removing the head of the first. He yelled. ‘Best way to stop ‘em! Don’t hold back.’ Toryn parried a lunge from the second. Odrun blocked a blow from the third. Yet despite the sorry state of their attackers, they fought with purpose and strength. The experienced guards and Toryn struck back, and soon the headless bodies of the first over the wall lay at their feet. But the weight of numbers forced the defenders back.
Eight formed a line along the parapet. Harruld recovered his breath. ‘Careful, ladies. These fellows are getting organized.’ Behind the formation, a large hand grasped the wall. A dented helmet appeared, followed by a scarred face with a tufty, gray beard.
‘By the Three, Harruld! It’s Glamdel.’ A giant of a dead Archonian forced his way through the battlements. His wide, yellow eyes stared at Toryn, but whether he grinned, or whether it was the lack of flesh on his face that revealed his broken teeth, he could not tell. In his hand, he brandished a long, broad sword.
Harruld and Odrun edged back and stood with Toryn. Harruld gasped. ‘The brute was a handful when alive. I saw him take down an angry boar with that sword. One blow, that’s all it took. Who knows what he can do now he’s one of the dead?’ The line parted, allowing Glamdel to take his place in the center. Toryn retched. His eyes watered.
Harruld choked. ‘Ye gods. That stench! Glammy was never one to wash, but by the Three, he out stinks the rest of the dead put together. That’s enough to take us down without a fight.’
Odrun stammered. ‘He’s… he’s got a thick neck, Harry. Hope our blades are sharp enough.’ He winced as he set his stance.
‘You injured, Oddy?’
‘Took a blow to my dodgy leg. Had worse though. Don’t you worry about me.’ Four more grinning dead joined the green rank.
Harruld looked over his shoulder. ‘This ain’t the best position, lads. They’ll outflank us easy.’ The line crept forward, driven on by Glamdel. Toryn’s vision blurred. He stared. They moved as if commanded by an unseen force. Within each opponent, he saw the ghostly outline of a figure. Not a guard, but akin to the squat Ruuk soldiers he had fought at Drunsberg. Bile rose in Toryn’s throat — it was if the Ruuk were cloaked in the skins of the dead.
The echo of horses’ hooves clattered on the bridge spanning the chasm. Harruld sighed. ‘They took their time, but help is here. Right then, lads, let’s find another line to defend.’
Odrun hobbled on one leg. ‘You go. I’ll occupy the big man. Give you a head start, eh.’
‘Don’t be daft, Oddy. There’s no need. We can all make it back.’
Odrun winced, grabbing the back of his leg. ‘I’m hamstrung, Harry. I won’t make it to the stairs. You two go. Glammy’s broad sword will take off our heads as soon as we turn tail.’ He raised his blade. ‘Besides, I’ve got a score to settle with that lout.’
‘It’s not him. He’s dead. It’s just his flesh ‘n bones. Who knows what’s inside his head now?’
‘Don’t argue with me, Harry. Just this once, go with what I say. We haven’t got all night.’
Harruld clutched Odrun’s arm. ‘Not here, Oddy. This ain’t your time. Not against these stinking ghouls.’
But Odrun stood his ground in the face of the looming menace. ‘I can handle this one. Anyhow, I’m ready for the plain should I—’ Glamdel tipped back his head and rasped a challenge. He raised his blade. Odrun lunged, forcing the giant to parry his blow. Odrun yelled over his shoulder. ‘Go! Both of you.’
‘Not a step back, my friend.’ Harruld sprang. ‘For the Three!’ Toryn leaped after them. The heavy sword of Glamdel sliced down, but Odrun was quick for a large man, even when injured. He dipped. Sparks flew as Glamdel’s blade struck the flagstones. Odrun jabbed up and caught Glamdel’s helmet. The helmet fell, revealing a bald and scarred head. Glamdel staggered. Toryn swung. A jolt shot up his arm as the blade sliced into the giant’s brawny neck. Glamdel’s eyes bulged. But he refused to drop.
Odrun cried out. ‘Keep going! He can’t take much more.’ He threw his weight at two guards to his right and knocked them back. He slashed, severing the arm of one, and the leg from another. But still the grim line advanced. Glamdel went for Odrun, swinging his long blade as if to cleave him in two. Odrun was distracted by another. Toryn rushed Glamdel, thrusting at the gap between his breastplate and raised arm. His sword jammed into the dead flesh and was wrenched from Toryn’s grip as the giant reeled. But his strike only shifted the giant’s downward blow by inches. Glamdel’s blade slammed onto Odrun’s shoulder. He cried out, dropping his weapon.
