Electra Rose
patreon
The Lilliad 38
🕑 Added 2022-05-01 00:00:03 +0000 UTCCHAPTER 38
Waves, waves of the dead crashed on them. His world reduced to the current opponent and situational awareness of the next danger coming up fast. He was just endlessly swinging, stabbing, forcing his sword to cut through the cold meat and stubborn ligaments of every thing that wanted him dead.
His arms were heavy and his fingers were going numb. Arelt pushed through, aware that he couldn’t afford to take a break.
The smell was terrible, far worse than a battle should be. That really said something because a battle usually stank to high heavens of entrails and blood. No blood was flying this time.
‘Because they’re cold. It’s stuck.’
He dodged a horse’s hooves and caught a glimpse of the saddle hanging limply down the animal’s back.
The whole left side of his peripheral vision was moving. Benk moved with it, rushing out of the dangerous area. Igni took one more step and kicked the dead horse. There was a heinous CRACK as the puppet’s ribs collapsed inward at once. The horse went flying, bowling over the dead who were advancing from that hidden cave.
He glanced back. The sorceress was still keeping close to the steps they’d come up, keeping her back protected as she sent icy bolts ahead. Whatever she hit fell down in a solid block, helpless, if not taken out of commission.
Arelt couldn’t resent her for that. The reason she’d asked for short distance fighters was to set up this distribution of labor. He shuffled in place, checking that nothing had crept up on him.
It was quickly becoming very difficult to move. The ground was already uneven, and now the narrow space was crowded with bodies underfoot. It would be so very easy to trip on one and get dragged down…. so easy for a corpse to lay down and take one of them unawares…
Arelt sheathed his sword, wild eyed. It was terribly disrespectful but-“off the cliff,” he ordered. “Move these ones off the cliff. Igni, can you push them off the cliff in future? We need to be able to move.”
Benk darted over to protect Arelt‘s back as he worked. Igni had bought them somewhat of a lull as the dead climbed over the horse and the other things it had knocked over, but that wouldn’t last long. Arelt prayed under his breath for forgiveness as he kicked and rolled bodies that had once belonged to decent people off the cliff. There were terrible smacking, cracking sounds as they bounced their way out of the fight’s zone.
He put it out of his mind and focused on his task, trying desperately not to think about what exactly he was doing, what he was touching. Where he could, he gripped onto clothing to drag rather than skin. His stomach roiled dangerously when he unearthed a small body, with a filthy green pinafore dress and two braids. It struggled weakly. Through his armor, he could barely feel when its handless stumps prodded at him. He gritted his teeth and ignored the splotches of blood and something green that got on his front. He picked it up and heaved it off the mountainside.
“Arelt!” Benk’s shout drew his attention. He dropped the body he’d just grabbed and immediately pulled out his sword. He looked over to see that the undergrowth was crawling with movement.
“For fuck’s sake,” he cursed. Corpses on their bellies, yes, but also wildlife. He saw a fox, a brace of rabbits, and any number of small things churning underground. He began stomping and swinging down, which was fine until more adult corpses managed to get past Igni. It was a goddamn mess, dodging grabs and bites at his aching feet and legs while watching for anything that wanted to shove a sword in him.
‘Is there anything left alive on this mountain?’ He wondered, incredulous. ‘If this freak’s gone and killed even the bunny rabbits for his undead army, we are not going to find anything to eat here.’
Pain, pain erupted on his left calf. He gave a surprised shout and fell forward as something yanked his leg backwards. He managed to throw his sword arm up enough that he didn’t fall onto the blade, but that meant only his left arm to catch his fall. Something jarred painfully in his left elbow. He kicked wildly, trying to dislodge whatever was in his leg. He spun and twisted onto his back to lean forward and use his sword to cut at some toothy brown animal that he didn’t recognize.
Viscera splattered onto him and dropped over his eyes. Arelt yelped and tried to clean his face with the injured elbow, struggling to get to his feet and be less of a prone target.
“I see him!” The sorceress’s excited shout cut through the grim squelches and slashed. “The necromancer. That man is alive.”
Arelt stole a glance at her, noting her impeccable appearance and then the direction in which she was pointing. He followed the line of her finger.
Really? The man was alive?
He started to fight his way toward the target, despite his uncertainty. ‘That’s the worst looking living person I've ever seen. Is that what necromancy does to a body?’
The witch had to be right, though, because the man gave a sneer through the stringy, bedraggled bits of hair that remained on his mostly bald head. The bodies didn’t make any facial expressions. Arelt gritted his teeth, despite knowing he might crack a tooth from the pressure.
The necromancer looked at him and smiled. He was missing half his teeth, as if they’d been punched out. He was also missing one eyebrow. Arelt took all this visual information in as background noise. The more important thing that he noticed was that the necromancer was reaching into his cloak.
‘I don’t want him to get a chance to use whatever that is.’
Hastily, he cut through everything in his way. It was too late, though, as the necromancer threw something at Arelt. It unleashed a hideous powder when it hit the ground. It BURNED, it felt like it was eating through his skin. He screamed but he kept moving, pushing through the new pain the way he’d been pushing through the pain of his bleeding feet for days.
Arelt had the distinct satisfaction of seeing genuine fear flash across the necromancer’s face in the two seconds between when the thrown attack hit and when he reached the wizard. He lifted his sword high and cut across. He was much more satisfied than usual by the feeling of a good, clean swing and the middling resistance of an unarmored neck. The necromancer’s head rolled.
There was a massive thump as every single corpse fell at the same time. The impact sent a reverberating thud through the stone of the cliffside.
Arelt glanced around, checking everyone’s condition. Igni and the sorceress were unharmed, though Igni was going to need help scrubbing blood, rot, and guts out of their stone cracks and crannies. Benk hit his knees, breathing hard. “Injuries?” Arelt asked. He stumbled over to his partner, shaky now that the adrenaline could begin to subside.
“I’m fine.” Benk grimaced. “I’ll be fine. In a while. Ribs hurt.” He spoke in short spurts between loud breaths.
Arelt hissed out a breath between his teeth and nodded. ‘We need to get back and get medical attention.’
“Let’s go.”
The sorceress made her way up to the clearing, cooly glancing around. “He should be searched,” she said. It came out as an order. “Would you be so kind?”
It took a minute to push through his revulsion for this woman enough to speak. “A minute.” His voice came out much colder than he wanted it to. He sat down, limbs shaking.
She gave him a long, hostile look.
He looked away, uninterested in whatever she was trying to communicate. He took his own time to recover from the ordeal. Then he heaved himself up and looked over what was left of the necromancer. The cloak was full of tiny pockets with scraps of paper and baubles. He laid them out on the ground, unwilling to touch them more than he needed to. The sorceress picked her way over and examined them.
“We should take them all,” she said after a moment. “Wrap them in cloth and don’t touch them more than you need to. I am not overly familiar with augmented magic, so I cannot tell which is a necromantic artifact. But anything like that should not be left in the open for anyone to take.”
He couldn’t disagree with her logic, though it left a very sour taste in his mouth that she didn’t deign to do it herself. He frowned at her, but he laid out a piece of cloth torn from the cloak and used it to tie the oddments into a bundle. “Why don’t you take it?” He proffered the bundle to her.
The sorceress scrunched up her nose and shook her head. “A magical focus may interfere with my spell casting,” she said. “Probably we will not encounter more enemies. But if we do, I should not like to have an unknown factor affecting my offensive capabilities.”
He hesitated for long seconds.
‘I don’t want to carry anything that man had. He looked unnaturally bad. Sick, diseased, affected by something. My intuition is telling me no.”
“I can carry it,” Benk said amicably. The older man had heaved himself up and came over.
The thought was extremely off putting. Arelt was a good ten years younger than Benk. Benk was already slowing down a little. Arelt did not like the idea of him with any more hardships.
Arelt shook his head and pocketed the bundle. “Trying to steal my glory, old man?” He said, sounding affronted. “Let’s get off this damn mountain.”
The sorceress made a low sound in her throat and shook her head. “No,” she said quickly. “We should continue up.” Her gaze tracked quickly over the two of them. “If you pray you can receive healing from the shrine. And we should confirm that the temple was not breached.”
Arelt inhaled deeply. He hated the idea. But he couldn’t deny the reasoning. He cleaned his sword before sheathing it. “Alright,” he said, projecting much more cheer than he felt. “Let’s move on, then.”
