Paul Kemp - Realms of War

Surfacing again with a pain-racked breath, Jaeriko allowed herself to shudder. She turned to thank Maze but Maze's attention was elsewhere. In her element at last, Maze shrugged the grate aside as though she were shedding a cloak, then surged out of the water and over the edge of the cistern with a speed and silence that spoke of exceptional strength and control. All was still for a moment, and Jaeriko tried to determine if she were to follow, then Maze's hand appeared out of the darkness, and the deft woman helped pull her out of the water.

The stench hit her first, coursing over her in waves-the sweet bite of rot, the bitter tang of blood, and the animal musk of feathers and crow's leavings. Then she noticed the glint of copper on the ground. Her fingers closed around the flickering metallic light. A copper coin. Looking for the round shapes now, she saw the floor was littered with them and what appeared to be sheets of paper. Armor, weapons, and bodies were oddly absent. She could smell them, but she couldn't make any out in the darkness.

Maze tapped her on the shoulder and pointed. Following the line of her finger, Jaeriko saw the same pale figure that had stood over them moments before scrambling past the tower without pause.

"It's running a circuit-bound undead are as predictable as the stars. We probably have another thirty heartbeats before it starts heading back this way." Maze pulled at Jaeriko's arm. "Follow me."

The assassin uncoiled like a cat and stalked forward, her body held low and her eyes focused on the white tower. Jaeriko followed as best she could, but found her eyes drawn again and again to the carpet of coins, papers, buttons, and refuse. There was something eerie about what was left behind-what the dead and their general had decided they didn't need. She passed a dark ribbon tied around a lock of muddy hair, a half-eaten trail ration crawling with moon-white maggots, a silver heart-shaped locket with broken hinges and shattered glass, a much-folded sketch of a woman looking back over her shoulder….

She forced her eyes up and almost ran into Maze, pressed against the outside of the white tower like a shadow. Maze scowled back at her, then motioned for Jaeriko to move up next to her. The tower wall was cut from a stone that left a sandpaper finish, and her clothes and hair caught and tugged at her as she sidled up next to Maze.

"Why didn't that thing try to kill us back there?" Jaeriko whispered. Maze snuck a furtive glance through the finger-wide crack between the door and the wall near where it locked, then stared out in the direction of the cistern as she answered.

"It's probably operating under strict rules," Maze whispered back. "If we don't technically violate the conditions of its binding, it doesn't have to do anything. I was betting that it hadn't been given instructions as to what to do to people found underneath the citadel-as we were when we were submerged in the cistern."

"How do you know it wasn't given instructions to just tell the general?" asked Jaeriko.

"I don't," Maze said. Jaeriko's mouth formed an O. "That's why we have to move fast." Tension was visible in every line of Maze's body-from the tendons standing out on her neck to the stiff arch in her back. Tilting her head skyward, Maze closed her eyes and pulled what looked like a prayer necklace from her pocket. Fingering the long strand set with a bead in the center, she whispered something Jaeriko couldn't catch. Just then, the door to the tower swung wide, and another pale figure emerged, this one hung with brass metal plates with a soot-blackened blade slung through its belt. The metal of the blade made a quiet hiss as it rasped along the stone.

The moment it strode past them, Maze leaped at its back, knee first, and whipped the cord around its neck, the bead centered beautifully on the center of its throat. Her knee planted itself mid-spine. Jaeriko watched in horror as Maze yanked back on the cord and shoved down with her knee, riding the flailing creature to the ground.

"Destroy it!" Maze said, and Jaeriko stared at her.

The flesh on the creature Maze had mounted sagged as though it wanted to flee the bone, but the lack of living muscle seemed to have no effect on its strength as it set a yellow-clawed hand down on each side of it.

"Now!" Maze said, a note of panic entering her voice.

But Jaeriko stood, frozen, as the rotting creature pushed up and spun under Maze's hold till it faced her and the bridle she'd improvised proved useless.

Maze cursed and dropped the strand, the bead forgotten. Her arms crossed and she withdrew a knife like a thorn from a sheath on her upper arm-then she fell backward as yellow claws filthy with decay snapped up at her, rolling out of harm's way. The pale monstrosity, liberated from its rider, climbed to its feet seemingly uninjured, but in the light from the tower above, Jaeriko could see the shadow where its windpipe used to be.

The creature opened its mouth as though to shriek, but a wet gurgle was all that found its way out. Then its dead eyes found hers. In two quick jerks it turned to face her, like a badly strung marionette. Jaeriko knew she should run, duck, strike, something, but in terror's grip she stood transfixed by its impassive gaze. Gathering its limbs under it, the ghoul sprang at Jaeriko-and she could not even find the breath to scream. It stopped a hand's breadth from her nose as a sloppy red line tore across its throat in a flash of silver. Then its head slipped backward and its body tumbled to the side, hitting the open door and sending it swinging.

Maze caught the door with the still-bloody blade and glared at Jaeriko, panting. "Next time I tell you to do something, you do it. You hear me?"

"I. . I can't do this," Jaeriko whispered, staring at the crumpled, headless corpse. A corpse that had been someone's son. That had just tried to kill her. That could still try to kill her for all she knew. Fear rose in her gullet, and it tasted like bile.

"You don't have a choice, Druid," Maze said, her eyes glittering. "And if you don't do what I say, you don't have a chance, either."

"You don't understand," Jaeriko said. "You kill people all the time. I can't do this." Maze sighed and motioned her through the door into the white tower.

"I do understand," Maze said. "More than you know. But I also know that they're already dead, and that if you don't help me put them down, you'll end up dead too. Besides, you gave your word, Jaeriko. Where are all your brave words about ending the war?"

"I didn't know it would be like this," Jaeriko said, but Maze had already moved into the corridor, so her words were for her ears alone.

Swallowing her tongue and her misgivings, Jaeriko followed. She shut the heavy wood door, revealing a painting of broken hands wrapped in and clasping a red ribbon on its back-the symbol of Ilmater, god of mercy. It appeared the tower had once been a temple. The ground could hardly remain consecrated, though, if it held the clawing undead within its walls.

Putting the matter out of mind, Jaeriko turned to see Maze motioning for her to hurry at the end of the hallway, and she nearly tripped over the uneven floor catching up. The corridor was short, as could be expected for the first level of a tower, and was made of the same ghostly stone on the inside as out. The walls were bare, but there were clean shadows where pictures once hung. The most terrifying aspect of the former temple was its utter silence. Walking in that hallway was like walking in a tomb-the sounds of life as alien as its concept within those stone walls.

When the silence came to an end as Jaeriko joined Maze, she thought she would be pleased, but what she heard haunted her more than the absence of life before. Sobs echoed in the corridor, soft at first, but louder as the pair slinked toward their source. At the end of the passage was an open archway that led into a room, and from that room spilled light and sound-the first human sounds they'd heard outside of each other. As they crept closer Jaeriko could make out a kneeling figure-misshapen in which she assumed was armor-backlit in the light of the room. Words formed in the weeping.