William King - The Queen's assassin

"Back!" Sardec roared. "Get back I tell you! We don't want to get trapped down here!"

The Barbarian had already reached one of the foes. He slashed it with his left blade and buried the right in its throat. The creature kept on coming, despite the terrible wounds.

"Get back, you great northern idiot!" shouted Sergeant Hef, raising his own rifle, and taking a shot. He was not as accurate as Weasel in the poor light and it thunked into one of the hanging sides of human beef, sending it swinging on its hook. Weasel was already at the top of the stairs, reloading, and getting ready to cover his companions as they retreated. Whatever else Sardec thought of him, he gave the former poacher credit for presence of mind.

He strode over to the Barbarian, yelling at him to retreat. He prepared to slash at any walking dead man with his hook. He was here until the Barbarian got out. Under these circumstances he was not going to leave any of his men behind. "You can't kill them, northlander. They are already dead."

The sense of this seemed to cut through the Barbarian's fear-induced fury. He gave a wide scared grin and began to back away towards the stairs. His eyes seemed too wide, his skin too pale, as if something of the evil magic in this place had already started to affect him. Sardec prayed this was not the case.

He let the Barbarian slip past him, not quite sure why, save that he felt it was his duty. The big northerner was undoubtedly much more capable of taking on one of these things than he was. Weasel's rifle roared again and another one of the dead men went staggering back to fall back into the bubbling vat. Sardec watched its blood-caked feet jerk spastically for a moment before it vanished below the surface. An image of some sort of horrid mating taking place down there filled his mind. Disgusted he pushed it aside as he backed towards the stairs.

"Get out," he yelled at Weasel. "Go rouse the others. We need every man we can get."

Another thought struck him. It might be best to try and blow these evil things apart. "Get grenades ready as well."

He risked a glance over his shoulder and saw that Weasel understood and was already departing. Sergeant Hef was right behind. The Barbarian had already begun to scamper up the stairs. Sardec hoped he did not trip. Now would not be a good time to be caught in a tangle on the steps. He gave his attention back to the oncoming undead. Their eyes glowed with a reddish light and their bodies seemed to exhale putrid air with every step. It was as if simple motion forced rotten gases from their corrupted lungs out of their mouths and the gaping holes in their pale naked bodies. Some of them had very long nails, almost claws. He had absolutely no doubts that those talons could tear his flesh or gouge out his eyes. He had no intention of remaining down here to test this empirically if he could help it.

The corpses moved noticeably faster now, like sleepers reaching full wakefulness after a doze. One or two of them lumbered forward. Their balance was not good, and they weaved like drunken men, crashing into one another, finding only unstable footing on the corpses strewing the floor. Sardec put one foot back on the stairs and began to move up them. He slipped his pistol into his sash and transferred the lantern to his good hand. He began to swing it backwards and forwards in front of him, hoping that it would keep the creatures at bay. The light fluttered but remained bright.

What had they found here, he wondered? Had this been the residence of a necromancer, performing his unholy arts hidden from his neighbours? Or was it the temple of some murderous cult who re-animated their victims for their own unholy purposes? Sardec knew there were many secret Brotherhoods throughout the land, and some of them dabbled in very dark arts indeed. He thought of the Prophet Zarahel and his followers who had almost succeeded in unleashing the Spider God Uran Ultar. Had they stumbled over a cult like that here?

He remembered the Lady Asea's theory that Zarahel’s work might have been sponsored by Talorea's enemies. He recalled also the Nerghul that had been unleashed against them in Morven. Perhaps this was yet another site where the agents of the Dark Empire had been at work. Perhaps those things trying to break free below had been created with a military purpose. Perhaps there were more places like this. If that were really the case, this whole huge city might prove to be nothing but a vast trap. For a moment the image of whole regiments of undead troops emerging into the night filled Sardec's mind. Perhaps they could not be killed. Perhaps they would sweep all before them. Or perhaps they were only the shock-troops of some new sorcerous threat. He pictured the Nerghul or a host of creatures like it emerging to lead the horde of darkly resurrected warriors.

Get a grip, he told himself. So far this nest is the only one you know of. It's the only threat you can see. Deal with it.

The dead came ever closer. Sardec wondered if he could make it to the head of the stairs.

"You are going in there, with all those walking corpses?" Rik knew Asea was going to. He was just trying to delay the inevitable. The soldiers who had emerged from the cellar looked terrified. Sardec was still in there playing the hero.

"There can’t be more than a few of them, and I am not going in alone — you and Karim are going with me."

"I was afraid you were going to say that." In the back of his mind, the voices whispered warnings. They did not like the walking dead. There was no nourishment left in them.

Asea produced a sphere from her collection of sorcerous adjuncts and screwed it into the end of a brass wand. With a word, she lit it. A soft glow emerged from the depths of the crystal. She let out a long breath and gestured for them to proceed into the tumbled building.

"Let's go," said Asea.

Karim virtually sprang to the head of the stair. Rik moved more slowly to follow him. The Barbarian pressed along behind. He might be keen to impress Lady Asea, but he was not that keen. He moved to the head of the stairs and looked down. With the Barbarian blocking most of Asea's light behind him, corners of the room were shadowy, but even so he did not like what he saw.

Sardec crouched on the stairs. Walking corpses shambled towards him. Asea raised her wand and spoke a word of power. Chained lightning danced within the chamber, flickering from animated body to animated body. A smell of frying meat and ozone filled the air. The walking dead slumped to the floor. Whatever spark of infernal fire had animated them was gone. Rik surveyed the scene with cold eyes while the voices whispered panicked phrases in his head. He did not know what had frightened them more, Asea’s lightning or the sight that greeted his eyes.

The chamber was a butcher's shop full of human corpses. In the centre of the room was a tub full of fluid that roiled agitatedly.

Karim sprang lightly down the stairs and Rik followed more cautiously, treading as silently as ever he had done as a thief in Sorrow and paying just as much attention to his search for hidden traps. Karim moved around the room looking for any enemies.

Rik moved cautiously towards the bubbling vat. He held his sword ready. Fear churned in his stomach. The voices gibbered as if they sensed his fear and responded to it.

His eyes had grown accustomed to the gloom now. He wished his nose would get used to the stink, but he doubted it ever would. He paused a moment and glanced around. It was like being in a butcher's shop, except that instead of sides of beef from cattle, the hanging bodies were those of men and women. He shook his head, as for the first time he really considered what had gone on here.

Someone had worked with all this stuff. It had not just happened to be here. It was the product of a lot of work and a lot of preparation. Someone had spent a good deal of time and money creating all this. What sort of diseased mind would do that? There would have been a time, not so long ago when Rik might have had trouble answering that question, but not now. He had encountered too many wicked sorcerers and their creations to have any trouble with that. He knew there were people who would do anything for power. There were those who would work dark miracles to satisfy their own curiosity and bolster their own egos.