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An Unsung Death in Geoff Part 3 |
Posted by: JasonZavoda
on Saturday, March 04, 2006 - 09:23 PM
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Needs Intro
Posted - Aug 27 2004 : 9:14:01 PM
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Part XXI
The five archways offered no suggestions. Each remained silent and dark, leading out in lines unbent as far as they could see. Ted shined the light down the last, the eastern corridor, but it was no different from the rest, unmarked walls and floor swept clean. Then as he pulled the light away its shifting rays came dancing back reflected from some bit of metal or polished glass or crystal facet.
"This way!" Emiel called out. He ran ahead and Ted followed close behind. They outpaced Ragnar in their rush, suddenly reckless, their roles reversed. Emiel had held back and Ragnar run in at the farmhouse.
Shadows and light played a game across the walls, bouncing and jangling in sympathy with the lantern suspended on the spear haft above Ted's shoulder. Emiel came to a boot-squealing halt, suddenly ashamed at his rash haste. His arm thrown out, he caught Ted around the waist and brought him to a stop.
A line of dust lay thick across the floor, it crossed their path a foot or so away, one side clean, the stones looking as if they had just been set in place. But past this the passage was covered deep, dust gathered from the air, dirt sifted from between old blocks of stone, and a grime from use both centuries past and a fresh coat added just days ago.
Tracks had scraped a path clear down the center of the floor and someone had swept aside a thick covering of spiders-webs hanging low, an obscuring canopy. A bundle, fresh amidst the dust of long times past, lay discarded against the wall. A cloak of dark-stained dirty brown, or maybe deep green like a leaf-screened light at dusk, it covered a sad thin shape whose booted feet stuck out beyond its lower edge. A silvered spur, its polished sheen had brought them down this hall, glinted bright among its drab surroundings.
"More dead." Ted moaned at the sight.
"What's this?" Ragnar said from behind. His practiced eye appraised the covered form, "Silver heels, maybe silver rings as well, or gold."
"Look." Emiel called to him drawing his gaze away. "There is dust aplenty now. And signs of recent passage."
"Yes, and another intruder, am I right?" guessed Ragnar.
Emiel gave a shrug. "Would one of mine wear knightly spurs. Alright, let us see. Thaddeus hold that light still, do not let it weave."
Ted stepped across the dusty line, his lantern catching the silken threads above and as he moved it trailed a torn-web banner, a spider's delicate net destroyed.
The light exposed the dirty cloak, a stained wrapping of forest green and beneath, as Emiel peeled the cloth aside, a body grey and drawn, dry like an apple half-eaten in the sun. It lay in state, carefully placed, a sword upon its chest, both hands, gloved in gauntlets of steel and chain, wrapped about the hilt.
"Not mine." Emiel turned his head away. Ragnar. happy at the news, reached out to break the death-locked grip, to free the sword and quickly guess its worth. His heart gave a startled skip as the bony hands reached out and seized his throat, the corpse-face came alive. Its eyelids opened with a snap, a sickly orange glow burned deep and from its mouth a rough parchment-dry and grating sound, it spoke.
"Ssspiiiderrrsss!!!" it said, then began to cough and from a jaw which opened till it split, a black hairy flow poured forth.
"YYYYAAAAAGGGGHHHH!!!" Ragnar screamed and shot backwards as if propelled by more than just the muscles of his legs. A pair of skeletal arms came free and, with hands wrapped firmly around the barbarian's throat, the long bodiless limbs dangled like emaciated snakes across poor Ragnar's chest. At each now armless shoulder the skin bulged and cracked, then broke apart. The crawling carpet of myriad legs and venom dripping fangs burst out anew at either side. The body began to rise.
Emiel reacted in a flash, swift as a lightning streak his blade was in his hand and a voice shouted loud within his mind "SUNNE!" and then the voice was his.
"SUNNE!" Emiel called out, and a joyous gate was opened from inside. A spark began, it danced behind his eyes then mirrored in the golden blade it skipped along from edge to edge and grew into a flame. The hanging webs were soon alight and fire flowed out and down the dusty hall.
"SUNNE! EXRDESERE!" A glad voice called from Emiel's throat, deep and full and not his own. "EXRDESERE!" it called, and the fire eagerly complied. From tip of the blade a cone shaped spray shot out, a liquid flame that bathed the hall and swallowed both man and spiders all within its molten flow. It lasted but a moment, the blade, cold metal of a golden hue once more. The living corpse burned like a torches head, a frenzied swirl, it bounced from wall to wall then stopped, and frozen still, the flames a fluid yellow-orange skin, it dropped upon its knees. The corpse appeared as a burning supplicant then whatever force that gave its bones a second life broke free. A swell of fire that billowed forth and faded into steam, the charred remains gave a sidelong tilt and smashed across the floor.
The strangling hands at Ragnar's throat had turned his face a dark shade of blue. He could not pull them free. Ted dropped his spear and lantern and grabbed at a trailing limb. He pulled upon a forearm while Ragnar sought to break a fingerbone or disjoint a thumb whose jagged tip gouged at the hollow of his neck. Then as the flames of Sunne took hold and ate away the binding animation that caused the dead knight's corpse to move, a heat broke out that bit at Ted and Ragnar both. A blistering fire that ran round his shoulders and down his chest, Ragnar bellowed out a cry of pain and fury at the relentless grasp, then beneath his clawing hands the bony fingers cracked then crumbled to a blackened ash and rained down as a powder.
Ragnar heaved, his own burnt hands clutched at his bruised and battered neck. He shuddered at the touch of soot stained flesh to blistered skin, but pressed at muscles squeezed stiff and coughed out bloody phleghm.
Emiel stepped back beyond the line of dust and watched the fire spread and light the darkened hall. The spiders withered beneath the bath of flame, not one of them escaped. The corpse broke apart after its fall, burnt through to its core, its head rolled free, a lump of lifeless coal.
"Gods save us..." Ted exclaimed.
Beyond the charcoaled knightly dead the burning webs revealed a crowd approaching. Strung out from side to side, they filled the hall and seemed to stretch a good ways back. Orange-eyed and parchment skinned, undead without a doubt.
"Emiel...?" Ted called for guidance, he knew not what to do.
"Run!" Emiel called back to him. "Run Now!"
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Country: | Posts: 612
jasonzavoda
Moderator
Posted - Sep 03 2004 : 02:47:09 AM
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Part XXII
Ted took off like a frightened rabbit chased by a hungry wolf. He abandoned his spear and ran empty-handed down the hall while Ragnar stood massaging his damaged throat. As Ted passed, Ragnar picked up the lantern-spear that had been left behind. Emiel did not notice either of his companions, he backed away but kept an eye on the advancing throng.
"Hey!" Ragnar called to Ted, "You've forgotten this!" he waved the lantern at Ted's disappearing back. The call didn't even slow him down. Ted disappeared into the darkened room beyond.
Emiel spyed familiar faces among the animated dead. He sought out one visage with a dreading heart, but there were many and only a few could be seen. The rest were but a head bobbing tall above the others, a flash of movement between one body and another, and a sense of some great mass pushing from behind. He stoppedd retreating while he searched for his wife's face, but as the undead neared an instinct for self-preservation overpowered his fearful curiosity. Emiel turned and would have run, but Ragnar blocked his way.
The barbarian leaned against the wall, his chest heaving, his ribs aching where they had been bruised or broken the night before. He worked with calm hands, twisting the wire that held the lantern to the spear. Finally it came free, the lantern he dropped carefully to the floor, the spear he balanced for one brief moment, then centered, he raised it about to throw.
"Wha!" Emiel exclaimed nearly colliding with the barbarian,
"Run!" he yelled.
"Sure." Ragnar answered "Move over a bit...there." He waved his left hand gesturing Emiel out of his way. Emiel took a small step to the side then turned back to face the dusty hall. The spear whistled past his ear, it struck true and pierced the chest of the closest foe. The moving corpse, a man armored in a jerkin made of leather, rent with ragged cuts, was knocked back by the blow, almost lifted from his feet. The spear sank in, half its length at least, but added nothing more than an extra stiffness to its awkward gait.
"Vatun's beard." Ragnar said amazed. "Let's see how they like a taste of an axe's edge."
"No!" Emiel grabbed him by the arm and turned him half around. "There are too many, listen to me this time!"
The figures were just yards away, unhesitant, stumbling forward, stiff kneed but quick, and coming close. They were a tattered bunch, their skin was drawn and withered like a prune's, their clothes stained black with blood long dried, some had rips, some no more than rags. Great wounds that revealed a lifeless heart or limbs cut clean or hanging by a thread, each showed a terrible rending, a mortal harm ignored.
"Then I need to trim some down." Ragnar shook off the restraining hand and rushed to meet these walking dead his axe raised high for a sweeping blow.
"Fool, Barbarian Fool!" Emiel screamed at him but did not turn and run away.
A conjoined pair were in the lead, one spear transfixed them both. The wooden haft like a churning stick, Ragnar flipped the pair from off their feet as fingers, no more than skin and bone, made desperate clawing grasps, but could not reach his hand. The two came down and tangled several more, half the floor a jumbled mess of clumsy living dead. Then with a mighty swing he brought his axe blade round. It severed feet and legs, an arm, a head, until the hall was crawling with disjointed dead.
He'd brought down five at least, the first two ranks, but more came on and as he struck a dark robed man, split head from crown to shoulder blades, a knife dug into Ragnar then twisted round, stuck low above his boots. He bellowed out his shock and pain.
A torso half, sliced clean by a single blow, had crawled to him, knife still within its hand and stabbed him through his calf. It pulled and yanked to free the blade, he yowled and shook the corpse hand free, but the distraction cost him dear. The half-split body staggered forth and slammed against his side. A surge went through the charnel press and several more broke free across their fallen kind, then swinging blind they struck Ragnar and the gory severed corpse and knocked both to the littered floor.
* * *
The room was dark to human eyes, but the lack of light hindered Ted not at all. He saw the shifting patterns of the magic floor as a blue-electric haze, like a lighting bolt that arced and coursed from wall to wall. His eyes shown brightly green, reflected luminescent in the magic glow.
He'd run full tilt, not looking back or pausing at Ragnar's shout, then slipped, his feet flew shoulder high, his head cracked upon the ground with a booming thud.
Ted screamed a curse, a squeaking wordless roar of fear and pain and outrage at his fate. He held his head between both hands and rocked it back and forth. He moaned, then twitched, then twisted and convulsed, and finally lay still.
At last he breathed, eyelids snapped open wide, and then he growled, his teeth were sharp and long. The sound took on a human tone, his growl became a sob that shook him head to toe. Still sobbing Ted slowly rose, but he did not stand, he dropped to hands and knees. His spine was arched, bent unnaturally, his arms stretched out and in a leaping sprint he left the wondrous room of moving maps and fled, galloping through the western arch
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Country: | Posts: 612
jasonzavoda
Moderator
Posted - Sep 05 2004 : 03:22:28 AM
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Part XXIII
"Curse you barbarian!" Emiel screamed then threw himself into the melee. Ragnar was buried under an avalanche of grey, withered flesh. The hall was a whirl, where hands without an arm attached ran like fleshy spiders toward him or, to one side, a headless torso flailed blindly like some mad and mobile windmill. And beyond it all a dozen animate dead, still roughly whole, continued on unheeded. He was at the center of a ghastly hellish scene lit eerily by the obscured lantern light.
No whispered voice aided him now, his sword was just a sword, but Emiel used it well. With the bell-like guard he smashed a corpse aside then cut away a clutching hand in a graceful sweeping arc. He could not push them all away but managed to drive back just enough to give Ragnar the opening he needed.
"Ahhhh!" the barbarian screamed, and flung two fetid dead aside, then scrambled to his feet. Another of the stinking swarm came upon him as he cleared the others from his path. Ragnar struck out with the steel top spike of his axe spearing low into the corpse's ribs and with a desperate angry strength he lifted the wriggling horror off of its feet. He strained and with a heave tossed it back, sliding the top spike free.
Emiel stood by his side, his sword blocking a swinging arm cutting deep and grating across bone, but the lifeless flesh ignored the vicious wound. An axe cut close above his head, Emiel ducked low, a startled lagging move. The arm fell free with edge of shoulder bone still attached.
"Sorry." Ragnar sheepishly exclaimed.
"Let's go!" Emiel replied. "These things just won't die."
"I've had fun enough. Come then while we can." Ragnar did not turn, but backed away, though with a seemly haste.
Emiel gave a parting shot and cut a corpse's tendon behind a knee then clear of any reaching arm he turned his back and ran. He stooped and grabbed the lantern, not forgetful in his rush, but mindful of Ragnar's mere human eyes.
The lantern jangled in his hand and sent light bouncing from the walls in a ragged cascade. Emiel and Ragnar left the hall and their pursuers behind, passed through the room of shifting scenes and sculpted walls. Ragnar never gave it a glance this time and the two turned right and out into the smaller entrance chamber. They paused for a moment outside the open metal valve and eyed Emiel's recent handiwork.
"Very nice." Ragnar said and gave a wasted tug at the firmly wedged iron spike that locked the door wide open.
"Shut-up." Emiel snapped. "Let's get the horses and be gone."
Ragnar laughed but said no more. He grabbed the large bundle he'd left before, then froze. "AHH! Vatun's hairy toes! I've left my cat back there!" He turned and started back toward the way they'd come.
"No you don't!" Emiel cried out. "That staff is best lost. That's are luck turning for the better."
Ragnar strained against his own good sense but gave the struggle up as lost, his cat-headed staff as well, then cursed and threw his bundle across the room. "Why did I not leave it here!" he moaned.
"Stop acting like a child, we are wasting time. We need to get the horses out and down that long hall before those things can catch us." Emiel sputtered out. He gave the barbarian a push to shake him from his tantrum. Ragnar glumly bent and grabbed the dark amorphous bag. He held it in both his arms and stomped, beating angry feet against the floor and followed Emiel down the long corridor.
* * *
He traveled following a trail of scent. The light was completely gone. A familiar smell, sour-sweet and rancid, a member of his pack had passed this way. All pain was gone, and all his fear as well. A great freedom had come over him when he had released the bestial spirit that slept within his blood. The awkwardness was gone, his form had changed and an animal grace was in his every move. His feet had torn his boots to shreds, his legs had bent into curved powerful shanks and his body sprouted a grey-brown fur. Ted was now more beast than man.
Later Ted could not say how far he’d gone, what rooms he had passed, or what they had contained. His sight was gone, but his touch and taste and sense of smell all felt enhanced but oddly so. He felt himself travel downward in a slow descent, not in a sudden leap or fall, but sinking a rising sense of weight and mass above.
Ahead, a frightened squeak greeted his approach. Then a friendly swarm of greeting cries. The little brethren welcomed him. They scurried under foot, he brushed through a great swarming pack then squeezed down a tunnel gnawed through the stony floor. He dropped like an acorn from a tree, the tunnel narrow, ending in a chute and a straight long drop. Ted twisted in the air and landed hard but on all fours.
Beneath him there was a moldy sack of long since rotted grain, it broke his fall but split along its seams. He tumbled, poured out amidst a decaying mass, then rolled, then leapt and found himself nose to nose with another of his kind. He sniffed, the smell was right, a name passed through his clouded mind. Mikhel! it came to him in a sudden flash, his memory returning.
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Country: | Posts: 612
jasonzavoda
Moderator
Posted - Sep 12 2004 : 09:49:59 AM
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Part XXIV
"Where's Ted?" Ragnar asked as they stood before the locked and hidden door.
Emiel paused, the key was in his hand, then slowly turned and looked toward Ragnar. "Where indeed." he said. "He must have kept on going, he couldn't know that we would stop for the horses."
Ragnar shrugged, Emiel knew Ted and he did not, it sounded like a reasonable guess, and what else was there to do.
The lock clicked and then opened wide, they ran past and toward the rough plank stable door, pushed that aside and, much to their relief, found horses fine and better for their rest.
* *
Outside the late morning sun was casting a dark line of shadow across the far bank of the stream. The horses had proved tractable enough, but skittish, perhaps from the urgent pressure of their handlers.
The front gate was latched, the heavy crossbeam in place. Emiel and Ragnar removed it in silence but, once safely beyond the corridor, they faced the
fact that Ted had not come this way.
"He must have run down one of the others passages in the map room." Ragnar stated the obvious.
"Yes, and now we have to find him." Emiel spat into the stream in disgust.
"We find Ted, and I get my Cat back!" Ragnar laughed.
* *
They led the horses across the stream at a place where the banks were lower and allowed an easy crossing. There was no way to hide them but Ragnar concealed them as best he could in the very short time allowed. Emiel was anxious to begin the search.
The slope was lightly wooded with a thick layer of dead leaves and debris but little vegetation. Ragnar found a small concavity where a tree had been uprooted. A wall of dirt-encrusted roots blocked line of sight from the pathway across the stream, but the ditch was shallow and the root stump small. It would not hide the horses well.
"Right, that's the best I can do." Ragnar told Emiel. He'd strung horse blankets along each side and hung cut branches irregularly across them. He stepped back and grimaced at the rough work.
"It will have to do." Emiel agreed with Ragnar's poor opinion.
"We will go back in the way I did at first. I do not think the front door is safe anymore."
Ragnar thumbed the sharp edge of his axeblade with regret. "And I was looking forward to cutting my way through, oh well, lead on!"
* *
The key that Emiel wore round his neck unlocked a round iron hatch, rust red but with hinges clean and freshly oiled. It opened smoothly, without a sound, and swung full back against the leafy oerth.
"You first," said Emiel, "I want to lock this once we are inside."
"It's awfully small." Ragnar sounded doubtful as he leaned over and looked down the dark passageway.
"You will fit. I can always jump on your shoulders and force you through." Emiel replied straightfaced but jokingly.
Ragnar's shoulder scraped across the hatches' metal rim, but he arched his back pressing shoulder blades together, and wedged himself down the narrow shaft. His footsteps clanged out, loud and echoing as he dropped from rung to rung.
Emiel hissed from above "Stop banging about, do you have to make such noise!"
"Yes I do!" Ragnar called back up to him then with great care lowered his foot and gently placed it down upon another rung.
"Speed it up! What is taking you so long!" Emiel shouted back.
"Arggh!" Ragnar growled "To a frozen hell with this."
* *
"Crawl!" Ragnar bellowed. "Through there!" He stood, finally, at the bottom of the shaft. Instead of the entrance he had expected there was only a low stone tunnel, even smaller than the way that he'd just descended.
"You're too fat." Emiel told him. He bent and with two hands made a quick measure of the tunnel walls. "You'll fit, barely."
"I could have chopped my way through those stumbling bags of bone. With a little room to use my axe..."
"You'd still be dead." Emiel interrupted. "Now come on." He dropped and, in a crouch, set off at a good pace.
"I'd have chopped them up like stew-meat!" Ragnar yelled down the tunnel at Emiel's disappearing form. "Oh fine then." He mumbled to himself then bent into a crouch as well. He still didn't fit but dropped onto his belly and crawled. The tunnel went straight for a little while but turned a sudden righthand angle, and at that curve it narrowed just a tad.
"I'm stuck." He screamed, wedged firmly between the tunnel walls. "Emiel, I mean it. I can't move!"
Emiel had gone quite far ahead but he heard the barbarian's shout. He stopped, he muttered a mild curse, then turned around. He had to haul at Ragnar's arms, bracing his feet against the walls and with a straining heave he pulled the large northman free with sparks flying between stone and steel chain shirt.
Ragnar gulped for air in company with Emiel's own gasps and in a breathless voice he spoke. "not... fat, just... big boned."
And Emiel Laughed.
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Country: | Posts: 612
jasonzavoda
Moderator
Posted - Sep 15 2004 : 4:59:56 PM
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Part XXV
"What is it? What's wrong?" Emiel stopped laughing.
Ragnar was still gulping for air. Then he began to cough, his body winced each time and specks of blood sprayed from his lips.
"Ribs.." He managed to gasp, but could say no more.
"Wait here." Emiel told him, but Ragnar paid him no mind, the barbarian wasn't going anywhere. "Must have pierced a lung when I pulled him free." Emiel said to himself. He scurried down the tunnel and quickly came to a dead end. Reaching out he opened a hidden latch and a square of wall slid aside. The abandoned western guardroom was just below, the secret tunnel was high along the southern wall.
Both feet hit the floor with a dull smack. Emiel was at the bottom of an L shaped room, though a backwards one. The long portion was straight ahead, but the foot of the L went to his left and not his right. Once long ago it had been a guardroom, one of two that watched the long entrance of this wizard's dungeon. When Emiel had found it years ago it had been a bugbear lair, but that had been when he was young before the giants came. When he had returned with those who chose to fight the monstrous invaders rather than to flee their homeland it had been made a guardroom once again.
The stone floors had been scrubbed clean, the walls and roof as well. They'd gathered the litter and debris, then thrown it all into a long and endless hall beyond the entrance room.
Estel, the woodworker, with a crew of eager but untrained hands, had built the bunks, tables, chairs and square chests that filled the room. All empty now, beds left unmade, a deck of cards left scattered across a table, a game abandoned in haste and none, it seemed, returned.
Emiel felt a sad hand grip his heart at the sight, this should have been a happy place with friendly greetings and a welcome home, but instead it just made clear that all those he knew were gone. He felt the grief quite plainly this second time coming through the hidden passageway.
"No time for this." he said aloud, then ran across the bottom of the L till he reached the western wall. "So many secrets in this place." he mumbled and used again the key that opened so many doors. The wall slid back with a gentle push but only a few short feet, at either side a row of shelves was set into the thick black-veinned stone. Boxes and bags were placed within, some shelves overstuffed but others packed neatly away, some even labeled in a careful broad and flowing script.
"Ah!" Emiel exclaimed. "There you are." He pulled out a small wooden box and unlatched the stiff hook that kept it tightly closed. The top hung back on metal hinges, a square of velvet cloth lay across what was within. Emiel pulled it back and 'tsk'd at the scant supplies, three small vials left when the box could hold five times or more. He took them all, first wrapped them in the velvet square, then pulled a small metal coffer from off a lower shelf. It held a crystal bottle of a potent dusky liquor, he took it out and tossed it on a shelf, then put the cloth-wrapped vials gently inside and closed the metal lid. Before he left he shut and locked the closet door, it became once more a bare stone wall.
** *
"Drink this" said Emiel and handed Ragnar a tube of glass, it held a fingers worth of green glowing ooze.
"...wats... init." Ragnar wheezed before he broke into a fit of coughing again. He clamped his jaw but shook with each heaving fit, a spittle of pale frothy blood escaped his whitened lips. His beard was wet and red with blood, he lay upon his side, arms wrapped across his chest and shuddered at each jab of pain.
"It's magic!" Emiel pulled the spongy cork.
"...magic?" Ragnar coughed, but a bright gleam sparkled in his watery eyes. "...gimmie." he grabbed the vial and drank it down, then smacked his lips. "Not bad." He said then realized that his pain was gone. "In fact I feel wonderful" Ragnar said with a big grin on his face. He slapped Emiel on the shoulder then laughed.
"I hope I gave you the potion and not the brandy." Emiel joked, but he was greatly relieved to see the barbarian healed. "That was supposed to be sipped, and it contained three strong doses."
"You don't have anymore do you?" Ragnar said and licked his lips.
"Not as an aperitif I don't!" Emiel put a protective hand over the metal coffer.
"An ape-er-what?" Ragnar asked confused.
"Never mind. You're better, let's get out of this tunnel and find Thaddeus."
** *
Ragnar squeezed through the exit and dropped clumsily to the floor, a bit woozy after the coughing fit and light-headed from the magic potion. He broke his fall with a shoulder roll and ended up sitting, staring at the dark square of the tunnel mouth above his head.
"I am not going back that way." he told Emiel sternly, "Not if the hall is blocked end to end with those living dead."
"Fine," Emiel huffed back, "but I'm not joining the crowd out there. I have plenty of living left to do, you may think differently if your on your back again and their teeth are at your throat."
"Done?" Ragnar asked "Or do you want to rant some more." He put out his hand and Emiel helped him to his feet.
"Yes." Emiel answered. "Let's go find Thaddeus."
"And my cat." Ragnar chimed in. Standing he looked around the silent room and used the battered lantern to pick his way through. He stopped before an open chest alongside a unmade bunk and bent to rustle through the clothes and things within, but Emiel grabbed his hand.
"Those belonged to friends of mine." He said.
Ragnar shrugged, but did not wish to start a fight. He could have said those friends now walked the hall wishing only for their painful deaths, but thought twice and decided to hold his tongue. He left the chest as it had been and didn't so much as cast a glance at any other loot within the room.
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Country: | Posts: 612
jasonzavoda
Moderator
Posted - Dec 12 2004 : 5:05:30 PM
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Part XXVI
They were between the secret doors, one leading back south to the guardroom they had left behind, the other east and to the long entrance hall. Quietly Emiel turned the key and winced at the noise as the lock sprang free, it sounded like a hammer blow upon a metal plate, but Ragnar heard it only as a faint and muffled click, the two were side by side.
Before Emiel could pull the door aside, a sudden thought occurred to Ragnar and in a flash his arm shot out. He held the door firmly shut, then asked "How did the guards keep watch upon this hall?" He nodded toward the way ahead.
Emiel, an angry word dying on his lip, froze and then cursed himself for being a reckless fool. "The spy holes!" he exclaimed in a forceful whispered voice. "Of course, there are such spaces within the walls, and in this very door as well, I can't believe it slipped my mind."
"Where?" Ragnar felt the smooth face of the secret door but could not find a groove or latch, or sign of any panel.
"Here." said Emiel reaching out and at his fingers touch a small round hole appeared.
"Magic!" Ragnar said his voice filled with curiosity.
"Of a sort, no doubt. This place is some magician's cave, left derelict but not dead." Emiel leaned and looked out the hole. "Nothing." he said with a disappointed tone. "Noth...wait, shhh!" he hissed. "Something passed down the hall!"
"Ted?" Ragnar sounded hopeful.
"I couldn't tell, just some glimpse of movement, either Thaddeus or those walking dead."
Or both, the thought passed through Ragnar's head but he had sense enough to let it stay there.
"Is this the only door?" Ragnar asked.
"It's this or crawl back down that tunnel and come in the front." Emiel answered.
Ragnar peered through the small hole himself and tried to make out what was in the corridor beyond. "It's pitch black out there, I can't see a thing." he said. "You saw something move?"
"Yes." Emiel said annoyed. "Now keep quiet." He slowly opened the hidden door, it drew back without a sound. The space ahead was a dark featureless square. Ragnar raised the lantern and as the light shown out, first low, across the floor, then sweeping higher before Emiel knocked it back.
"Stop that!" Emiel hissed.
"And do what! Walk out there blind, I might as well have my eyes closed." Ragnar swung the light back up and out into the dark. About to give an angry retort Emiel jumped back instead. As the beam of light ran across the floor and lit the hall, it first revealed a pair of sturdy boots. They went unseen and the lantern light went higher. Ragged pants, torn and darkly stained, a wide leather belt, an empty scabbard, a chain shirt, then a great gaping wound where flesh had been. No throat, just bone and muscles showing clear, grey crusted skin and eyes that showed yellow-orange but did not blink.
"Waa..." Emiel cried out surprised, the corpse threw itself upon the sword he held. The edge parted steel rings with a grating sound, the point sank in deep, then further still as hand over hand the creature pulled itself forward upon the gold-metal blade. Emiel sought to free his sword and for a brief moment his blade was trapped, a rotted hand reached out, a clawing fist which passed close by his eyes. He flinched and throwing back his shoulder tore loose his blade and with it came a gray flesh half-hand severed clean, it fell in pieces to the floor, each twitched and jumped like fish pulled from a running stream.
A sparking screech rang out above as Ragnar's axe came arcing down. The top spike etched a short thin line across the ceiling stone, then the axe-blade struck and was buried deep within the corpse's chest. Steel rings were split, the shirt hung loose, the dead things left shoulder as well, its unsupported arm bent and rose, a ghastly sight.
"Bah!" Ragnar shouted in disgust. He lashed out, a mule like kick and yanked his axe-blade free. The body flailed its one good arm but could no keep its balance, falling back and down, smacking hard against the floor. Ragnar jumped out ahead, the lantern bouncing in one hand, his axe carried in the other. With a foot planted firm upon the undead's chest he chopped once, removed an arm, then took the skull, and then stepped back. "Frozen hell, these beasts don't die" he cursed. The corpse's legs kicked out, it rolled from side to side, then bunched itself and struggled upon its feet.
"They've died once, they will not die again." Emiel said and walked up to the rising corpse, then without haste placed his hands upon its side, then shoved and sent it sprawling like a drunk across the floor.
"Come, do not waste your strength with this." They stood between two alcoves each leading to a secret door, the one blocked shut, the other, the way they'd passed before.
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jasonzavoda
Moderator
Posted - Dec 14 2004 : 6:01:39 PM
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XXVII
"Mikhel!" Ted grabbed his friend by the arm and tried to stop him. "Mikhel, where are we going? What happened here? Mikhel!"
They had traveled through a long series of passages and rooms. Ted had never passed these ways before, they had not been found when he had last been home. Mikhel led them, but it was all that Ted could do to keep the pace. His old friend was silent and haunted, he had barely said a word since Ted had dropped before him in his wild state.
Mikhel appeared uninjured, though Ted well knew that even most mortal blows were passing things for their kind. His clothes were torn and filthy, his hair was matted and his smell was rank. So different from the joyful merry friend that Ted had left behind. They entered a room of pools and long dead flower beds, its roof was high and from its peak a stream of water fell in a sparkling cascade.
The falling stream struck a large round pond rimmed with a crystal wall, the water rippled gently as if the speeding flow was stilled, growing slower as it neared the surface of the pool. Mikhel quickly walked by this marvel without a glance, its wonders went unseen. They wove in and out through a dozen rooms, sometimes leaving through an arch or door but often Mikhel pushed aside a secret panel or drew open a shelf that concealed a hidden way. He moved in haste and passed by a library of scrolls and tomes, a storage room filled with wooden chests, an armory lined with pikes, swords and blades of steel hung unused upon dusty walls, and many more.
Finally a doorway opened up into a place that Ted knew well. The eastern guardroom whose blocked door had kept Emiel from entering. Mikhel had found another way to come and go. The passage ran along the room's lower edge, a doorway where the western guardroom had a row of shelves. They slowly walked past wooden bunks, then Mikhel turned and stretched out his arms as if to point out some work of art or craft, a source of pride, a smile on his face.
"What's this?" Ted asked confused, then looking where Mikhel's pointing arms did lead, he gave a gasp and blanched, his face turned white as snow.
Each bed was filled, a body laid out with tender care, arms crossed and cleanly dressed, but lacking heads, a row of desecrated dead.
Ted stepped back, a nauseous rush welled up inside, he gulped and felt a terror freeze his spine. "Mikhel, please no." he cried. The smile fell from Mikhel's face, it slid away in shock. He ran toward Ted and as he did Ted dropped onto his knees and with upraised hands he pleaded for his life.
"No,no,no,no,no...." Mikhel stammered out to his kneeling friend. "Not me, not me, I didn't do this..." he waved an arm at the nearest bunk. Tears welled up in his eyes and left muddy trails down his unwashed face, and crying now he sobbed. "Wasn't me, I didn't, no, no, I moved them yes, but it wasn't me!"
Ted's spine unfroze, he stood and roughly grabbed his sobbing incoherent friend, then shook him by his shoulders. A sudden angry rush ran through him, he flushed, embarrassed at his craven fear, then with first the front then back of hand, he slapped Mikhel across the face. The blows cracked like a teamster's whip and snapped Mikhel's head from side to side.
"What happened!" Ted commanded "You'll tell me now! What happened here!"
* * *
The map room was littered with bodies, parts of bodies and other parts of bodies. At one point five hands, some with arms attached, some without, had a grip somewhere on Ragnar. One was pulling itself back up his leg even as he dismembered another of the cursed living dead. Each archway, five in all, disgorged a flow of gray fleshed, orange eyed creatures. No longer just men, but bugbears, gnolls, orcs and goblins as well. A centaur had forced its way through the crowd, Ragnar had taken its forelimbs with one stroke, but it rose on hind legs like some show horse performing a circus trick and with ponderous steps came on. Severing another leg had sent it crashing to the ground, crushing several goblins and kobolds which had followed it from who knows where in this maze of corridors.
Emiel and Ragnar had hewed till a carpet of twisting flesh layered the shifting images of the floor. With weary limbs they fought on, no longer searching for their lost friend but just to stem the tide of dead and retreat back as they had come.
From the alcoves in the passage from the main gate they had fought their way forward to the maprooms spiked open door, then made a dash down a side passage hoping to find some trace of Ted. Ragnar had wanted to make a try for his misplaced cat's head staff but Emiel had pulled him away, insisting that they find Ted first. Reluctantly Ragnar agreed.
The northern passage had seemed the most likely, but before they had traveled a hundred feet it opened up into a great pillared hall, a ballroom with massive crystal chandeliers, half-rotted tapestries hanging in shreds, the floor a granite swirl of black, white and grey, and a long set of stairs leading to a dusty throne. A dozen arches lined each wall, a dozen more overlooked the hall from a balcony that stretched from side to side above the empty floor.
Awed at the impressive sight, both Ragnar and Emiel walked slowly toward the center of the cavernous room. They turned, one left the other right, then a voice called to them.
"Salvi! Salvi!" it cried. Ahead, up the rise of steps, a translucent form waved a ghostly hand, a long dead King or Wizard-Prince, sitting on his throne. "Obitu-Xpecta! Salvi!"
"That," Ragnar said to Emiel without turning his head, "I don't like."
"Ah-oh." Emiel replied and gave Ragnar a nudge. From each archway a body had stepped. The wizard's guardsmen, once, now a battered remnant, armor, chest plate, helm and shield now gashed, dented and well-hacked. The guardsmen were the same. A score at least came from either side and behind them the dark shadowy shapes of dozens more.
"Trus-dar." The voice called out. "Trus-dar!" and then it began a spectral laugh that echoed from the walls.
"Time to go." Emiel declared, and both of them turned and ran.
They fought past a pair of long dead guards who blocked their way with rusted halberds crossed across their path. Ragnar sent a weapon-head spinning, its haft severed in one swift blow, Emiel ducked under a jabbing point, slashed away a knee and calf, then pulled the corpse aside. Ragnar grabbed the headless haft, first pulled then drove the firm-gripped wooden pole into the wielder's chest. He pushed the guardsman back, feet scraping on the stony floor, then Emiel chopped behind both knees, a skilled hamstringing cut that felled the guard face forward to the ground. Ragnar ran across the squirming form, stepping on its back and hastily followed Emiel in headlong flight down the long passageway. The map room lay ahead.
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jasonzavoda
Moderator
Posted - Dec 15 2004 : 1:36:05 PM
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XXVIII
Ragnar stood near Emiel as they edged backwards toward the southern door. The centaur's rolling body blocked half the passages to the west and gave them some respite. Emiel stepped back first, beyond the sculpted frame and into the crystal-topped entrance room. Ragnar followed, he'd torn the lightstone from the battered lantern and held it in his hand, the other held his axe. He took one backwards step but stopped as another four-legged beast pushed slow moving dead aside. A Manticore, its tail only a stump, but needle teeth and unsheathed claws were weapons more than enough. In a mighty bound it leapt.
Emiel saw Ragnar step back then stoop, then brace himself against the charge of some unseen foe. He prepared himself as well, but the barbarian filled the door, he would have to face this attack alone. A clattering noise from behind turned his head. Emiel swung round and from the stairs two figures rose into view as they ascended the short stairway.
* *
The beast, though it had a man's bearded face, threw itself toward him paws outstretched and sought to drag him to the ground. Ragnar dropped the lightstone in his hand and gripped his axe with both. He let the lion-body of the manticore impale itself, but it weighed far too much to hold even for his great strength. Ragnar fell, the beast's burning eyes were inches from his own. It raked him with both forepaws, he rolled, the steel links took the savage blow. The ends of claws snapped off caught within the metal rings and pulled him back within the death filled room.
Ragnar could not lift the weighty manticore, instead he twisted and turned it to one side. It turned itself, drew back away from the impaling spike and caught him with a powerful gutting kick, both legs drawn up, his shirt again absorbed the blow, but one of Ragnar’s dragging legs was mauled from thigh to knee, below the chainmail's lower edge. He howled as some wild lion might, limped back and with rage-gifted strength struck down and across its lower back. The beast came apart in two, one half a head, forepaws and chest, the other a set of kicking legs. Then Ragnar quickly limped across the door and out into the smaller entrance room.
* * *
Two heads appeared then as they climbed the stairs two bodies followed. Emiel gave a curse, trapped here he thought, no way back and another fight ahead. Then as he prepared to battle, back to back with Ragnar if need be, he saw a face that he had thought was dead.
"Thaddeus!" He cried. "You live!" and then he saw the other man, though a face changed from the one he had known before in more peaceful days. "Mikhel! Mikhel! You live! My wife..." Emiel rushed over grabbed at the wild-eyed Mikhel's dirt-stained collar. "My wife, is she..."
"Emiel!" Ted yelled and pushed the smaller man away. "Watch Out!" he pointed toward the map room door.
A yowl of pain snapped Emiel back from thoughts of his wife's likely fate, he whipped round, his sword at hand, and saw Ragnar with a single blow cut the undead manticore in two.
"Give me a hand." Ragnar yelled as he limped across the floor. "Come Emiel, my leg's hurt pretty bad."
Emiel ran to Ragnar's side, behind them a mass of severed parts came crawling, blind, but directed by some will which saw them clear. Dragged by forepaws the front half of the manticore pulled itself along, it gnashed needle-teeth in frustration as Ragnar took slow agonized steps away. Behind this mass a fresh supply of less dismembered dead appeared.
"Hurry." Ted called back then ran down the stairs, Mikhel tittered a screeching laugh then ran away as well. Emiel grabbed Ragnar around the waist and they hobbled after as fast as they could. They nearly fell at the top of the stairs, then with Ragnar's arm across his shoulder Emiel half carried the shocked and protesting barbarian to the hall below.
"Vatun!" Ragnar spat out as they passed the last stair. "You have two men's strength in those arms of yours."
"Clean living." Emiel replied. He stopped in the lightless hall and looked closer at the northman's wound. "It's bad alright." he said. "It feels it." Ragnar replied. "But how in this pitch black can you see how bad it is!"
"I saw it up above." said Emiel. "You've lost our lightstone then."
"It's my day for losing things." Ragnar said. "Help me get down this hall and out of this black pit."
Emiel and Ragnar staggered outside, they found Ted just a short way beyond with Mikhel by his side.
"Here." Emiel commanded. "Ted take his other arm, quickly now." and with a supporting shoulder underneath each arm Ragnar made much better time. They'd fought and hacked all the dead to bits between them, the stairs and the front doors.
* * *
The light struck them like a blow. The sun was high in the sky and shinning down into the tunnel entrance. As they opened the front gate it cut through the dark like a knife, dust twisting in the still air caught by the yellow-white beams.
"Wooeh!" Ted let out a thankful wordless cry of relief.
Emiel slammed the gate shut, it melded back into the hillside, undetectable once more.
"Let's have a closer look at that wound." Emiel said to Ragnar.
"That beast's claw went in deep." he gasped.
"I see." Emiel pulled back a shredded piece of cloth from Ragnar's leg. Three deep gashes ran down from hip to knee. The deepest laid open his upper thigh. A flap of skin came free with a wash of blood, then with each beat of Ragnar's heart a fresh red coat flowed out. Emiel tsk'd and drew a small metal case from a pocket in his belt. The next to last green healing tube of potion, he saw no other way to stop the loss of blood. "This will hurt." he said.
"Wait," Ragnar reached to his belt and pulled the leather strap that guarded the sharp edge of his axe. He placed it back between his teeth bit down and mumbled out, "mmm'edy"
Emiel gave him a nod then pushed the wound's edges open wide. Ragnar made no sound but clenched his jaw and bit down. A small fountain of blood shot up, an artery cut for sure. With a careful hand Emiel poured a good third of the vial's healing contents into the wound then let it close. Ragnar gave a deep sigh, his body, tense and stiff, relaxed.
"Here, drink this." Emiel said and handed over the magic potion.
Ragnar spit out the leather strap, then greedily drank the potion down. He put a finger inside the vial, swirled it around to get at every drop. "Ahhhh!" he said contentedly.
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jasonzavoda
Moderator
Posted - Dec 23 2004 : 5:29:09 PM
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XXIX
"Mikhel." Emiel faced his cringing friend. "You have not answered me. My wife, what was her fate?"
"Not here, no, no, not here." he looked around snapping his head from side to side.
"Answer me clear." Emiel demanded, he grabbed at Mikhel's arm. The skittish man dodged and back away.
"Not Here!" he yelled, "Not Here!" and then he turned and ran.
Ragnar sat smiling, but gave a frown at the sight of his torn trouser leg. He'd placed his back against the hill's steep slope where the hidden entrance lay. A tremor ran through his back, then rudely a shove pushed him forward. The front gate began to open, something was coming out.
"Hey! Guys!" He cried loud then slammed his shoulder against the gate. It snapped back with a crunch and a bony grey-fleshed foot fell to the ground, cut off at ankle high against the gates door frame.
Emiel skidded to a halt, he'd set off in pursuit as Mikhel ran in terror down the valley path, but at Ragnar's cry he cursed and let Mikhel run on. From where he stood he could see Ragnar's body shake, as something rammed the gate from the inside.
"Ted!" Emiel yelled, he was just a few steps from the door, but did not lend a hand, instead he backed away as Ragnar called for help. "Ted, put your shoulder to that door!" Ted shook his head but his body obeyed the command. He screamed and threw himself against the gate and lent his strength to Ragnar's.
"They don't want to give up it seems." laughed Ragnar. "We seem to have the upper han..."
The door was smashed aside, Ragnar flew back and Ted tumbled down, he rolled and fell into the stream. A cloven foot stepped through from the darkened passage into the valley light. A minotaur, it ducked its head to clear a pair of high steel-covered horns.
Emiel did not stop his charge, too late to help keep the gateway closed, he pressed on and with his golden sword slashed at a bony human knee above the bull-hoofed foot. His blade absorbed the late morning light and a emitted a hazy radiance that coursed across its edge. The glow moved on then up his arm and as he swung, he glowed as well, a golden aura surrounded him.
The blade struck low as the minotaur walked forward, its edge cut mummified flesh and gouged cross bone, painful to any living man or beast, but this undead monster felt it not at all. A fist lashed out and grazed Emiel, he ducked and slashed again. He caught its arm as it was drawing back and trimmed two fingers from its hairy hand.
Ragnar had rolled and lost his axe. He took a precious moment to scramble across the scrub and weedy ground, then scoop it up and run to fight beside his friend Emiel.
A backswung hand knocked Emiel down, he fell, his feet high in the air. The force of the blow and the slope of the hill flipped him completely over, with a thud he landed face down, brambles pricking at his skin. The minotaur let out a rasping howl, a dry imitation of the roaring bellow it would have sounded in life. It stepped through the open gate and out onto the hillside. Ragnar had reached it and with his axe brought back in a two-hand grip, such as lumberjack might use to fell a tree, he hewed a great gash into its leathery side. The blade cut in and opened an unbreathing lung, a lifeless shriveled bag, it fractured ribs and sent a spray of dry grey-flesh and splintered bone trailing along its path.
Ragnar could not avoid the minotaur's lengthy reach. It swung an arm the size and length of his own leg, he ducked and took the glancing blow across a mail clad shoulder. Still it was a hurtful touch, filled with strength and malice, directed by some unseen hand that brought the dead to life.
"Try to cripple it!" Emiel yelled. "Remember it can't bleed or feel the pain."
"Tell me something I don't know!" Ragnar screamed back. He'd struck again and opened its chest, its left-side ribs were all caved in or gone, but it only made the creature mad.
Again a tree-like arm swung out. Ragnar turned it with a well placed blow and as he did he saw and heard the strangest thing. A crackling like bacon fat spitting in a pan, a rise of smoke, the minotaur, its skin boiling on its frame. The direct sunlight, it scorched the monster with its rays and burnt it were it stood without a flame.
Ragnar jumped back, then tripped and slid down the sloping hill. He came to rest on the narrow valley path beside the stream. A soaking figure, Ted, pulled itself up over the bank nearby.
The minotaur was a cloud of steaming flesh and broiling bones, a walking stew, but still it lurched its way toward its nearest foe.
Emiel, he paused, prepared to strike, but beyond the charring beast he saw another pass through the gate. Another minotaur as tall as the first, its horns steel-capped as well.
"Enough of this." Emiel spoke quietly to himself. He skidded down, scrapping through the underbrush. "Cross the stream!" He cried.
Ted heard and threw himself back over the bank. Ragnar, once more upon his feet, gave a nod and followed after Ted.
With skin all gone its muscles burnt as well. The minotaur took a stiff-legged step, then as it pulled, the shrinking tendons snapped, it fell. In a tumbling smoking heap it rolled and passed Emiel, then flew out over the bank's edge and splashed into the stream. Two more minotaurs had exited the tunnel mouth, Emiel could see the first curl of smoke begin to rise from long dead skin.
"Come join your kind!" He yelled to them.
A familiar sepulchered voice called back, "Nulfu-jere!" it screamed through the minotaurs mouth. "Vos-muse! Vos-muse!"
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jasonzavoda
Moderator
Posted - Dec 27 2004 : 4:48:36 PM
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Part XXX
The valley was behind them, they'd ridden well into the afternoon, three silent figures letting their horses take a leisurely pace. They camped as soon as they found a thick patch of woods to screen them.
"Nothing like a fight to wear you out." Ragnar said as they dismounted. He yawned, "Waaggghhh..." his jaw unhinging like a snake's.
"Stop that." Emiel said then yawned himself. "See what you've started. You take first watch."
"What! I'm dead on my feet." Ragnar complained. "Ted, you take watch. I need to close my eyes for an hour. Your magic brews are tasty, Emiel, but they make you tired as eating a roast turkey in winter."
* *
"Wake up!"
Ragnar snapped awake, for a moment he was lying in that stone-walled hideaway back at the farmhouse, then the dream vanished and the late afternoon sun was shining pale and green though the leaves around their camp.
"I'm up." Ragnar pushed a thick blanket aside.
"We need to talk." Emiel said. He sat nearby upon the trunk of a fallen tree.
"Hand me that canteen." Ragnar pointed to his saddle.
Emiel took a round wooden canteen that was tied to the pommel of the saddle and tossed it to the barbarian. Ragnar caught it and unscrewed the cap. He took a swig, swished it round his mouth, then spat. Pouring some into his hand he splashed it on his face and cleared his sleepy eyes.
"Better?" Emiel asked.
"Awake at least." said Ragnar.
"Our plans have changed." Emiel held a stick and scratched an artless pattern into the oerth.
"Your plans," Ragnar stated. "Mine remain the same."
"What? You mean to go after that giant alone?" Emiel looked up.
"It's why I am here."
"You're crazy."
"Oh!, not as crazy as you think." Ragnar laughed. "I am not going to knock on the giant's door and challenge him to a fight, and I'm not going to attack him while he has his company about, but I am not giving up without a try at least."
"I must find my people, my wife." Emiel said then smiled. "I was unsure what Mikhel meant..."
"You mean that wild man who took off at the gate?" Ragnar asked.
"Yes, that was Mikhel. Ted talked with him, my wife had left before the trouble came. Ted could get little else from him, some dark things happened and all my people who were there are dead."
"Was that the lot?" Ragnar sat up now, he rolled the blanket as he talked.
"No. Not all but many." Emiel replied. "That was our most eastern stronghold. It could hold the greater part of our group or we could leave it empty and know our supplies were safe, but now, who knows what has woken from behind those doors."
"So then what are your plans?" Ragnar finished with his work and tied both blanket and canteen to his saddle.
"I want to find my wife, but that is not as selfish as it sounds." Emiel said.
"You southerns have the strangest loyalties," Ragnar exclaimed. "You need not apologize to me that you love your wife."
"I apologize to no one." Emiel snapped, then with a more mild tone went on. "My wife leads when I am away, she will be with the remainder of my people. They must hear what has happened to Patel and the others back there." he nodded toward the way they'd come.
"I do not know these lands." Ragnar said "But I will scout them out. I could use your help even as a guide."
"Come with us, once I have found my wife I will lead you to this giant and help as much as I can." offered Emiel.
"Alright, I doubt it will cost much time. I would have to spend some getting to know the lay of the land in any case." Ragnar reached out his hand and Emiel clasped it, a pact was made and set.
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jasonzavoda
Moderator
Posted - Dec 30 2004 : 3:17:43 PM
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Part XXXI
Beyond the small thicket a dark form crawled unseen. It watched and listened to all that transpired. As they broke camp and left the trees, it waited, hidden low among the underbrush, then as the travelers disappeared from sight it rose, a man-like shape but on all fours, and ran off in pursuit.
* *
Night came down like a fire burnt to embers. The sun was just an orange stain on the horizon as they passed through the dismal ruins of a small village. Not a single building remained standing. Fire had taken most, but what the flames had not destroyed the minions of the giants had knocked down.
"Do you have a some hidden lair hereabouts?" Ragnar asked.
"No." Emiel shook his head. "This is a crossroad town, or was, the patrols pass this way too often. Besides it is a wasteland throughout, every farm, every house, has been utterly destroyed. It will be best for us to travel through the night."
"That's fine for you, but an hour last night and an hour this afternoon are not enough for me. I will need three, four hours sleep tonight." Ragnar looked about. "But I agree, there is no comfort here.
Emiel said nothing for a few moments, joining Ted in silence. "I'm weary myself, but I had planned to ride all night. By day it will become much more dangerous."
"You have night eyes, I do not. " Ragnar said. "Three hours then."
"They will cost us, how would you travel these lands alone?" Emiel asked.
"I would sleep when I could." Ragnar explained. "And if I had to I would go without, but I fight better rested, and with a good meal in my belly."
"Food we have, time we do not." Emiel replied.
"Time, well... I think we will have more than we can use." said Ragnar.
* *
The evening began clear and mild, but a cold wind blew from the mountains and brought a wet cold rain along. Ragnar had repacked his loot, discarded some, and taken the wizard's robe as a short-hooded coat. The black cloth was warm and waterproof, the moisture stopped a hairsbreadth from its threads and slid away.
The track they followed had become a soupy river of mud. The horses splashed through, sending a spray of wet and sticking oerth over their coats and their riders' boots. Ahead, seen dimly in the cloud obscured moonlight, a pile of stone ran even with the road, some fieldstone wall a hundred years of plowing had helped build.
"We are near some farmer's land." Emiel said. He let his mount slow to a crawl and as the others passed joined them. They rode three in a row, side by side.
"I thought you knew every corner of your realm." joked Ragnar.
"I came late to these parts, after Gorna fell." Emiel
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