Rosemary Jones: City of the Dead

Sophraea felt a collective sigh heave out of the very earth of the graveyard. She closed her eyes and saw the noble dead fall back from the walkways and paths. The marchers ceased marching, and the dancers ended their spinning dances. The knight upon his skeleton horse reared once and galloped away.

All around the perimeter of the City of the Dead, its shining guardians strengthened their circle of protection. The black streak that formed a path for the dead to the Dead End gate disappeared.

Algozata's curse was finally broken.

"We did it!" Sophraea spun in her excitement to congratulate Gustin and Lord Adarbrent, only to halt in mid-spin. For now, with the other dead fading away to their tombs, she could see what flew down the path toward them.

Black robes swirled around gray skin shrunken upon the bones. Eyes burned with red fire. Gems, dulled under years of dust, studded the remnants of the broad seafarer's belt and heavy axe.

This was what she'd felt moving in the City of the Dead ever since Gustin had amplified Algozata's curse. This was the "something bigger" that had bothered her as they had fled the tunnels. This was the anger that she'd felt when they'd come back into the City of the Dead.

This corporeal ghost arrived with a roar even as Sophraea tried to cry out a warning.

"Dorgar Adarbrent!" bellowed the ghost. "How dare you wake me!"

Lord Adarbrent fell back before a fury even greater than one of his own rages.

"Grandfather!" he choked out.

"Spells! Foul magic!" The ghost cried unhooking his axe and swinging it so the wind whistled over the blade. The spectral breeze knocked everyone back a pace. "What have you done, Grandson?"

Gustin tried to counter with a spell, a fizz of sparkling light that streaked toward the ghost. Lord Adarbrent's aggrieved ancestor batted it aside with his axe.

An answering wave of cold rolled over Gustin, chilling even Sophraea standing several paces back. The wizard's teeth chattered in his head and he pitched to his knees in the snow.

Sophraea ran forward, flinging her arms around Gustin's shoulders. Tremors of chill shook the lanky wizard's frame. Sophraea rolled him over, lifting his head out of the snow and cradling it in her lap.

The ghost of Royus Adarbrent advanced on his grandson. Lord Adarbrent held his ground, chin up and staring straight ahead.

"What have you done, Dorgar?" bawled the ghost.

"Protected Waterdeep," answered the old man with dignity.

"By waking every ghost? By using dreadful spells? Algozata's book should have burned with her body. How dare you bring it here?" the ghost snarled. With every shout, the ghost swung his axe, each stroke coming closer and closer to Lord Adarbrent. The old man did not flinch.

Each slice ofthe axe through the air swept the area with a bitter wind. Frost formed on every leaf ofthe topiary dragon. Briarsting trembled on the creature's neck, turning from green to gray with the cold. The Carvers huddled together and even Rampage Stunk was struck silent with the chill.

Under each icy wave emanating from the axe ran a current of terror. Sophraea fought to stay still and not run screaming. She clutched Gustin's shoulders, anchoring herself to the wizard. Gustin groaned.

The Carvers held their ground. Sophraea could hear her father and her uncles talking in their rumbling voices to the rest, urging them to stay together and wait for this phantom to quit the place.

Stunk's men were not so calm. Most dropped their weapons and ran. Stunk stayed where he was, swaying back and forth as he always did, fingers clenched at his side. His hate-filled eyes remained fixed on Lord Adarbrent.

Sophraea bent over Gustin. His eyelids fluttered. "Wake up," she pleaded.

The wizard blinked up at her. "I'll be all… all… r-r-right," Gustin ground out between shudders. "J-j-just cold."

"We need help," she stated when the ghost of Royus Adarbrent was almost upon his grandson.

Gustin gritted his teeth and heaved himself out of Sophraea's lap. He planted both hands in the snow, shoving himself into a kneeling position. The faintest sound of a spell spilled from his lips. He raised one trembling hand and traced shapes in the air. The magic spilling from his hand etched a circle in the snow around Sophraea and himself.

Sophraea felt as if a candle had been lighted in her heart. Warmth spread through her. The terror rolling off the ghost receded.

"Can you extend the circle?" she whispered to Gustin.

"I'm trying," his voice was barely a breath and his shoulders shook under her hands as she tried to steady him. "That ghost is very strong."

Standing directly in front of Lord Adarbrent, the phantom Royus let his axe drop until the head rested on the snow. The burning eyes narrowed, scanning the face of his grandson.

"You have courage," the ghost stated in a calmer voice as Lord Adarbrent remained standing still before him.

The faintest smile twisted up the corners of the old man's lips.

"I am too old and too close to death to be afraid of it," the nobleman said.

The ghost rubbed his chin, the same contemplative gesture that Sophraea had often seen Lord Adarbrent use.

"Algozata was executed by the family for this spell," the ghost said finally.

"Yes," answered Lord Adarbrent immediately. Still Royus Adatbrent hesitated.

The furious Rampage Stunk burst out, "Go on! Kill him! What are you waiting for!"

The angry fat man ducked around the frosted topiary dragon, striding forward with his odd rolling gait.

"Finish him!" Stunk yelled at the ghost.

The phantom swung around to stare at Stunk.

"Who are you," he said in exactly the same angry accents that his grandson always used, "to tell an Adarbrent what to do?"

He raised his axe high over his head and swung down.

"No!" screamed Sophraea.

With unbelievable quickness. Lord Adarbrent thrust his sword cane between the axe and Rampage Stunk. The axe struck the stick, shattering it, as Stunk scrambled backward to safety. The force of the blow made the old nobleman gasp and almost go down to one knee.

But when the phantom whiried around, Lord Adarbrent straightened his back and stood tall.

"Why did you save him?" he said, the flames of his eyes so bright that Lord Adarbrent's shadow streamed out black against the snow behind the old man.

"Because she is right," answered Lord Adarbrent, indicating Sophraea standing stock still, afraid to move and break this odd truce. "If we spill blood here tonight, the stain will spread to Waterdeep."

The phantom raised his head, looking over the City of the Dead. Then he contemplated Sophraea.

"A Carver, are you not?" he said with the calmest voice he had used all night.

"Yes, my lord," she answered with a steady voice although her hand trembled on Gustin's shoulder.

The phantom nodded slowly. "No blood?" he asked to make sure.

"The dead are returning to their graves," she said. "But if we create any more disturbance, we will never quiet them down."

A sour expression flitted across his ghastly features.

"Very well, Grandson, you live tonight," he said. "But this is the end of your tricks. I trust the Carvers will keep an eye on your activities from now on and keep you from any more foolish actions."

"I promise, my lord," said Sophraea quickly, before Lord Adarbrent could answer. "No more raising of the dead."

The phantom gave a curt nod and decreed, "But there must still be punishment. Grandson, I forbid you to rest with the family. When your death comes, let the Carvers find you a grave far from the Adarbrents. You are banished from burial near us."

Lord Adarbrent bowed his head in acquiesce.

With a swirl of its rotted black cape, the ghost of Royus Adarbrent faded away from view. Where he had stood, the snow was smooth and white and free of any marks.