The boots felt a bit tighter than usual this time around as Cyan pulled them on. He felt a strong sense of determination and conviction as he slapped the steel greaves over his boots, tightening the bands to hold them in place. With his gauntlets in place over the sleeves of his hooded hauberk, the Halfling called out to the main room in Shuya’s house, “Can I get some help in here?”
Beyond the door of Shuya’s bedroom, Donovan, Wyle and Shuya stood in the kitchen making potions to combat the undead. Kitty, Rashad and Barcrab were watching the windows, waiting for some kind of response from the ghouls who had surrounded the house at sunset and now marched around an ice crystal barrier. Moira was slumped in the chair closest to the fireplace, holding her knees against her chest and rocking back and forth. Her whimpering seemed to keep pace with the tempo of her movement, making the rocking movements that more unnerving.
“Might I get some help please?” Cyan yelled again. “I can’t get this damned breastplate on by myself!”
Kitty looked up from her position and yelled, “Coming!” The Enigman cat-woman plucked herself from the floor and peeked over the doorjamb. “What’s up?
“Please, help me get my breastplate on.” Cyan motioned to the hunk of metal sitting off to the side of Shuya’s bed. She picked up the plate by the armpits and carried it to Cyan, who sat down on the edge of the bed. He looked up at her and said, “I mean, I need someone to put it on for me. Do you mind?”
“No, I don’t.” Kitty climbed onto the bed and hobbled over to Cyan’s back on her knees. She lifted the breastplate over the Halfling’s head and fitted it to his body. Tying the straps wasn’t a problem, so she did that too. The flirty feline reached under the gorget and stroked Cyan’s neck saying, “All set.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Cyan said as he felt the soft fur against his stubbly neck. “You know, you tied my armor as if you knew what you were doing. Where’d you learn to suit armor like that?”
“I know a lot of things,” Kitty purred. “I had a life before dancing at the Egress Bar.”
Cyan nodded and said, “Pass the shoulder pads.” The cat-woman leaned over to where the shoulder pads lay and pulled them to her. She put them to Cyan’s shoulders and anchored them to the breastplate. Satisfied with her work, Cyan stood up.
The halfling Cyan practiced his balance in the standard issue armor for a warrior of the Brotherhood of Brash. The breastplate armor bore an embossed symbol of Brash, a trio of down-pointing swords crossing before a bright sun. The thigh armor attached to Cyan’s equipment belt made for a natural weight against his body. He knelt at the bottom of the bed and reached underneath it, pulling out his sword and his helmet. The sword, a sharpened and stained affair at its blade, shone in the candlelight of the next room as the Halfling drew it from his scabbard and replaced it. The helmet was curved and plated, sweeping upward into a metal frill from its forehead and trailing off into a tail at the nape. Both items bore the symbol of Brash as well.
Cyan turned to Kitty and said, “Listen. If the plan doesn’t go as well as it should, I want you to have this.” He reached down into his hauberk and pulled out a slim necklace. It was a small ivory stone on a silver length of chain. He handed it to the Enigman cat-woman and said, “If I fall, bring this to the headquarters of the Brash Brotherhood in Fort Swordhome, in the west.” The Halfling could see the fear in Kitty’s yellow eyes and comforted her with, “I admire a woman with skill such as yours. When this ends, I think we need to discuss our future together.”
“No need to wait on that, Cyan. We can discuss our future relationship…” Kitty said as she held his hand with padded hands and a serious look in her eye, “…right now.”
Just as they gazed into each other’s eyes for a moment, the mood was broken by Wyle’s intrusion. “Hey, we’re almost done with the––“
Both Cyan and Kitty turned to the carpenter. Annoyed, Cyan said, “Go on…”
Blushing a bit, Wyle continued, “We’re almost done with the potions. Are you ready?”
Before the Halfling could answer, Kitty leaned into him and playfully said, “Seems ready to me…”
“Stop that.” Cyan ripped himself away from the furry arms of the Enigman dancer and strode out to the main room of Shuya’s home. He looked around at the state of his allies and friends. Most of them had no weapons, armor or combat training. They looked worn out from the day’s events. It’s not every day that the undead march on your town, but these people have acted admirably under stress and the threat of a living death. The bravery of all these people, especially Shuya, would be commended upon reaching Swordhome.
He looked over to the kitchen and watched Shuya work alongside the ice-mage Donovan as she made the potions. This young woman had fought a minion of the undead and lived to not only tell her story, but to fight them in the corners of her own town. As Cyan admired the strength of the woman behind the counter, she put the last of the potions in a satchel and said, “Finally, we’re done.”
“Good. Everybody ready?” Cyan asked as he put on his helmet.
Rashad got up from his position and said, “No, we’re not ready. Excluding you, only Donovan and I have weapons, but no armor. How are the others supposed to fight those ghouls out there? Punch them really hard and hope they stay down?”
“You forget we have the potion to kill those ghouls…”
Rashad struck him with a look of surprise and said, “You want me to catch fire drinking that stuff? You must be crazy.”
“Cyan’s right, you know.” Shuya walked over with the satchel of potions and held one out to Rashad. “The main component in this potion is wine. We can drink this potion and the potion should act as a counteragent against any ghoul bites we may receive,” she said as she passed around the potions. “Since we don’t have enough armor to go around, we’re all gonna get bitten at least once.”
Still unsteady, Rashad asked, “Are you SURE this is gonna work, Shuya?”
“No, but since we’re all living beings and don’t have many choices in the actions we must take to survive, we’ll be better off. Trust me,” she said with a wink, “I’m a bartender.”
Drowning out Rashad’s protest, Donovan piped up, “I propose a toast: to the fall of Blackheart and the fall of dark magic! CHROVA!”
“CHROVA,” the survivors returned and downed their potions. Rashad was the last to do so as he watched the others drain their draft and flash a light blue aura before returning to normal. He tossed the potion down his gullet and felt the warmth of the potion work its way into his belly, then saw his vision go blue for only a moment and return to normal.
Slapping Moira on the shoulder, Cyan said, “I don’t know what that foreman Jollum was talking about Blackheart having you, but it wasn’t about undeath. You’re clean and ready.” He found his cloak and hood and placed it over the frightened elf woman. “You ready, Moira?”
She nodded and the Halfling said to the others, “Alright, now for weapons. Grab what you can out of here and use it as a weapon. If it stabs, don’t bother; if it bashes or cleaves, then grab it.”
The group looked about the interior of the house. Kitty ripped the posts off the bed frame in Shuya’s bedroom, sending the bed crashing to the floor. Wyle followed suit with another bedpost and knocked the nails flat with his hammer. Moira was still frozen with fear at the idea of facing the undead. Barcrab saw that she hadn’t fond a weapon yet, so he handed her the first one he could find: a fire poker.
“HERE” he said, “YOU NEED THIS.”
She looked up at the Enigman crab-man and rose to her feet, clutching the poker so tightly that her knuckles showed white beneath her skin. The scared seamstress looked around at all the people and said loudly, “Thank you.” The volume of her gratitude made everyone turn to look for a moment. Worry flooded their faces as they heard the fear in her voice, but Cyan broke the mood with a clear voice.
“We are ready.” Cyan looked at Donovan and the ice-mage prepared a spell. The group of survivors got close to each other to keep their area small, and Cyan was close enough to ask Shuya a question.
“Have I ever thanked you for allowing me to stay in your house, Shuya?”
“No,” she said.
“I suppose now’s the time to do so. Thanks.”
“You still owe me rent.”
“I’ll pay you back when we get through this.”
“That’s comforting,” the bartender said as she adjusted her satchel. “I have to go through all the Hells and back to get my money.”
“Money is the least of your problems,” he shot back. Looking out the window, he saw that the ghouls had gathered in front of the door, just as he knew they would. “Donovan, do it!”
The ice-mage set the door to freeze and used his magic to blast the ice outward. Blowing outward in a shower of shards, the ghouls went flying into the street and were frozen by the arctic wind. The path strewn with the pieces of frozen ghoul, the eight survivors charged through the ghouls and headed south to the shadowed manor of Blackheart Estates as Rza shone high overhead against the night sky.
The survivors reached the outskirts of Blackheart Estates with the ghoul patrol close to their heels. Barcrab assessed the situation of the huge wall surrounding the graveyard by sending his eyestalks over the edge of the wall. The graveyard was empty, except for a well and a mound with a door to it. Trying to be as discreet as he could, Barcrab waved the rest over. When they reached, he put his claw out and catapulted everyone else to the top of the wall. They all went over and Barcrab soon joined them in the graveyard by smashing through the wall.
The sound of the breaking wall gave Cyan concern as he whispered in a rasp, “What in the Hells are you doing? We’re supposed to be quiet!”
Shrugging as he stepped the through the crumbling gap in the wall, Barcrab led the others and made a beeline for the mound. Walking past the tombstones, Shuya realized that many of these markers are the same ones from Sumptor. The moonlight made the inscriptions clear in the gloom as she read some familiar names. So many had died at the hands of this woman––no, this unscrupulous monster, Shuya thought—that death would be too good for her.
“Cyan, is there another way to stop Blackheart?” Shuya whispered to the Halfling. “She’s delved into the dark arts long enough to become this powerful; death might be what she wants.”
Cyan looked at her and said, “No, she doesn’t. If we kill her, then she can’t rule the world. I don’t think that she can resurrect herself as a ghoul or a skeleton if she’s already dead. Plus, you can’t rule if you’re one of those,” he said and motioned to the moans and growls of the mindless ghouls just outside the fallen wall.
“Master Cyan, to the business at hand, please” an annoyed Donovan whispered.
Cyan stepped forward and kicked in the door to the mound, releasing a burst of cold mist into the air. The stench of dead bodies still lingered in the frigid air of the underground lair, and Cyan led the group inside. They worked their way down the slippery stairs and saw a narrow hallway, with a heavily locked door at the opposite end. Cyan could see from the nearby torchlight that the locks were so huge that they blocked the door’s handle. Nearest to the locked door, a ladder leading up to what could be the house stood, stretching into a hole in the rocky ceiling. Allowing his misty breath to lead the way, Cyan moved forward into the hallway.
By the time everyone was down in the basement of Blackheart Manor, Donovan cast his spell and sealed the door behind the group with ice. Shuya and Kitty caught up with Cyan and followed close as he approached the locked door. “Is this the door where we’re supposed to go?” Kitty asked.
“How should I know?” Cyan whispered back. “Never been here before.”
“One of us has been to Blackheart Manor before.” Shuya called Rashad over and asked, “Rashad, do you know anything about this?”
“No, I never got past the kitchen!” Rashad asked, “What’s behind this door anyway?”
“Probably Blackheart and Inia.”
Rashad drew the Rock Sword and said, “Then stand back.” He swung the magic stone blade at the largest lock and the blade skated across the surface, sending sparks onto the ice. Swinging again, the blade didn’t come close to nicking it. He was about to swing again when Donovan interrupted him.
“Have any of you noticed these two doors behind us? I think we should focus on doors that are NOT locked with magic locks.”
“What makes you think that she’s behind either of these unlocked doors?” Rashad asked Donovan angrily. “This locked one HAS to be it! Think about it: why would someone lock a door?”
“Perhaps you should ask the question, ‘Why would someone of Blackheart’s arcane skill lock something at all? The answer is quite simple if you think about it.”
“But––“
“It’s locked for a reason, Rashad. I suggest we try to work on doors that aren’t locked for our enemy’s safety.” Pointing with his ice axe, the mage said, “Let’s try the left one.”
“Wait…” Moira had been silent ever since they entered the chilly basement. With only her hands sticking out from Cyan’s borrowed cloak holding onto the fire poker, the seamstress’ hands were a snowy white against the cerulean cloth. “We should go right. Please try the right door.”
“Like we’re going to listen to someone whom Blackheart still has under her thrall.” Cyan opened the left door as he said, “Wyle, you stay with Miss Moira while we—“
A cacophony of growls erupted from the opening as ghouls swarmed the door and forced it wide open. Six undead fiends leapt out and tackled Cyan. They held him down and tried to bite through his armor. With quick thinking, Donovan closed the door and froze the lock. The others jumped into action as Cyan struggled to get onto his feet with ghouls on top of him. Rashad pried a ghoul off with his weapon, and the ghoul leapt at him. The ghoul grabbed his arm as if to bite, but never got the chance as Rashad bashed its head in with the Rock Sword.
Barcrab pulled two ghouls off and easily snapped each of them in half at the waist. The upper bodies still moved and the crab-man split open the head of one and decapitated another. Wyle, Kitty and Moira were tangling with two ghouls who had pushed them to the beginning of the hallway, near the stairs. They fought with the bedposts the best they could, but Wyle’s broke against the face of his ghoul opponent. He looked away to find a weapon and snatched Moira’s weapon away, saying, “Gimme that!” He then cracked the ghoul’s head open and a spray of black blood coated the carpenter and Kitty. Kitty’s fur was matted against her skin as she broke the neck of the ghoul threatening her and Moira, then she ripped the creature’s head clean off with her bare hands and a triumphant shout.
Cyan still tangled with the last ghoul who pinned him down. He rolled over on top of the undead thing, drew his sword and drove it into the chest of the thing. That wasn’t enough to kill the ghoul as it immediately grabbed Cyan’s helmet and tried to pull him closer to bite his face off. The foul breath that issued from the fallow hole in its face almost made him pass out when the ghoul suddenly issued a blue fire from its wound. Pushing himself off, he watched as the monster burned away to cinders in a wash of blue light. The Halfling got to his feet, dusted himself off and said, “Thanks, Shuya. So, like the lady says,” he motioned to Moira, “we take the right door.”
“Right,” Shuya said. She reached into her bag and pulled out two potions, emptying the contents over the fallen corpses. The icy hallway lit up in blue, casting strong shadows as the blue flames licked up the walls and showed the group in strong relief. Donovan, still by the left door, said, “There’s still one in here.”
Shuya walked over and heard the scratching of the ghoul’s nails against the grain of the wood. She poured another potion under the crack in the door and the screaming monster caught aflame. She could see the creature’s feet cast shadows in the blue light that consumed its undead body from beneath the door. When she heard a hard fwump on the other side of the door, she knew the deed was done. The others shuttled past Shuya and prepared for what was behind the second door. Cyan said, his sword at the ready. “We don’t want a repeat of last time, so Wyle, could you open the door for me?”
“No!” Wyle said. “I ain’t opening that door! I’m not getting my hand bitten off for you!”
“It’s not for me, it’s for the…never mind. Rashad, could you get the door?”
“Sorry,” Rashad said, “I wanna stop Blackheart like the rest of you, but—“
A big red claw smashed through the door and bashed it off its hinges. Barcrab said, “JUST GO.”
Moira walked ahead of the group and worked her way down the empty stairs. The others looked on as Moira found her way down the stairs with no problem in the pitch-black stairwell. After a few moments of not being able to see Moira, the Elven seamstress’ eerily calm voice came from the shadows, saying, “This is where we’re supposed to go.”
Shuya poured a few droplets onto the frozen stairs, which lit up with a flash of blue light as they struck the remnants of undead flesh on the icy surface. It was bright enough to navigate by and not lose one’s footing on the stairs. The others worked their way down to Moira and stood at the door. They stared at the door for a few moments and then turned to Cyan.
Feeling the eyes on him, the Halfling said, “What? You saw what happened last time I opened a door in here. I'm not making the same mistake, no sir. One of you has to open the door.”
“I’m not opening a damn thing,” Donovan said as he twirled his ice axe in his hands.
“Alright, before there’s an argument, I’ll open the door for you,” Kitty said as she pushed open the door, “Mister Big-Bad-Brotherhood-of…”
Kitty stopped short of finishing her taunt when she heard the chanting in the air. She looked around to find the source, but could not tear her eyes from the horrors staring back from the green pods. Every corpse in a pod bore a familiar face; from Kehlin the shopkeeper to the elven bard who used to work the Egress Bar. His name was Mar-val, and his corpse looked ready to come apart, for it bore too many stab wounds to count. Such horror numbed Kitty to her surroundings, she didn’t feel Cyan come up to her and say, “Thanks for opening the door, Kitty.”
The others filed into the grotesque gallery and moved down its icy stairs, trying hard not to look at the friends and associates floating inside the transparent cocoons. Wyle’s eyes strayed for a moment and his eyes caught sight of a familiar female form too close to the wall of the green cocoon. He stepped away from the group and knew that Zappa was dead, but he went to look at her body anyway. The wild, black curls were present, yet the small body had shriveled in the short time he had seen her last. The carpenter looked at the Halfling waitress and couldn’t help himself from crying.
“She didn’t…she didn’t do anything to Blackheart,” he sobbed quietly. “I didn’t do anything to her…so—so—so why’d she do this to me?” Then, in a whisper as he looked about at the other green pods, “To any of us?”
Rashad plunked a hand on the carpenter’s shoulder, saying, “We can ask these questions of our mighty Benefactor once we enter this…thing.”
Rashad guided Wyle back to the group as they stood idly in front of a large temple structure. The building seemed to be shaped out of the very rock that sprawled over their heads. The four doors before them were set in slots that looked like large teeth. Above those teeth, a large carving of an eye with tentacles reached to the ceiling. The tentacles acted as columns in the underground cavern and met with the chanting voice as it bounced off the cold, rocky walls.
The group stood at the door, looking at Cyan and waited for him to do something. He got the message, kicked down the door and shouted an oath befitting his order. The courage garnered by the oath measured a great deal for the survivors of the horror on the surface. As they all charged through the doors, they all realized their courage wasn’t enough for the horror that they would face within the dark underground temple of Blackheart the Benefactor.
CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 11
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