The Beginnings Omnibus: Beginnings 1, 2, 3 & Legend of Ashenclaw novella (Realm of Ashenclaw Beginnings Saga) (8 page)

Divah watched from afar in horror and felt bile within her throat, threatening to spew forth.

 
How are they doing this?
she wondered, seeing the vast number of the undead creatures and knowing that there were only five knights. There were scores of the vulgar things.

She held fast and watched with mouth agape as the scene unfolded.

Garius strode into the midst of the chaos and voiced a prayer, holding his sun-symbol in his grasp as reassurance. The Paladins heard his words and pressed their attack, not allowing a single one of the zombies to disturb the priest. The words grew in volume and reached their crescendo as the warpriest held both hands on high.

“You shall not win this day!” Garius screamed, and his eyes and body filled with a white light. That radiant, brilliant energy burst forth from him all at once, bathing the area in light so bright that none could see within it.

“Your perdition is fulfilled!” Garius shouted as the luminosity burst forth from his body exploding in all directions.

The undead creatures fell in droves under the holy outbreak, simply melting or reduced to ash right before the eyes of the Paladins. Micah swung roughly at a zombie but nearly sent himself sprawling to the ground as the creature turned to nothingness before him. All told, several dozen of them fell under the ubiquitous light. But when the knights’ vision cleared, there were still more of the undead coming.

Garius saw that Marcus had fallen, succumbing to an unseen foe, perhaps due to the visible aura of contagion that seemed to fester upon the skin of these zombies. He had been bitten and clawed by more than one of them as they found flesh beneath his armor. He was feverish and convulsing. Yet still more of the undead approached. There was no respite as the knights moved forth to continue their service to The Shimmering One, as was their vow.

Garius held his hammer on high, the huge head pointed skyward.

“For The Shimmering One!” he bellowed, rallying his holy warriors and spurring them on once more with a renewed vigor. He turned to regard the fallen Paladin and was contemplating calling a burst of energy upon him when he felt a rap on his head from an unobserved zombie that had made its way to him. The sound echoed within his helmet and his ears rung at the sheer savagery of the blow. He shoved the drooling thing away with his shield. That created a bit of space, allowing him to swing and bury his warhammer deep within his assailant’s skull, which cracked and caved under the force of his blow. With that, the zombie fell limply to the rough soil with arms outstretched.

Garius remarked that Bralon was fighting like a man possessed of The Champion himself, with strength and exuberance set forth with each and every swing of his blade. He cut down zombie after zombie as it if were a menial task and he carried on as the focal point of their attacks.

Then the warpriest turned again, this time seeing Matthias straining to keep one of the creatures at bay. It was on his sword but the zombie had gotten inside the knight’s shield. It was pushing forward along the length of his sword, already impaled upon it, but indifferent about its state of being. It was propelled by its hunger, not reason or emotion. Its goal was to feed, pure and simple. That is one advantage they have over us, Garius thought as he moved quickly to Matthias’ aid. He came in on Matthias’ right flank and pointed his warhammer at the zombie.

“But we have faith,” he whispered to himself in a reassuring tone, calling the celestial aid of The Shimmering One once more and driving a beam of divine holy energy right through the creature’s skull. It slumped upon Mathias’ sword. He glanced at Garius, nodding in thanks, before receiving the next zombie which he drove back with a slam of his shield followed quickly by a wide swing of his blade.

Garius moved to assist the fallen Marcus, as Bralon hacked down the last of the zombie threat.

As he approached, he witnessed Divah kneeling beside him introducing a burst of regenerative energy into the man while he prayed, bravely and loudly to the sun god through trembling lips. The timorous halfling that had once run from the undead creatures was gone, leaving behind someone more courageous, it appeared.

“I thought you feared for your life?” Garius questioned.

“I was more afraid for this man than for my own safety,” Divah answered with an implacable contempt behind her green eyes. They were hard in their reflection of the warpriest, whether in response to his words or in an attempt to quell her own fears, Garius could not tell. Perhaps it was simply her detestation of the undead zombies that propelled her.

Marcus coughed and shivered as the divine light coursed through him. Garius knelt in prayer, away from the halfling, and prayed for help in fighting the disease that now ran rampant throughout his fellow companion.

Moments later, Garius stood and removed his helm.

“These things are called Blood Rot Zombies—Blood Rotters to some,” Garius explained to Divah. “They have not plagued our world since a time before the reign of Ashenclaw. Something wicked has been sent to Wothlondia.” As he spoke, the warpriest knelt and examined Marcus. “Something wicked, indeed. This was no random act. Something summoned these things and set them free upon our lands.”

“Some-
thing
or some-
one
?”

“That is something I intend to find out. You have done all you can and I appreciate that,” he thanked Divah kindly. “I must rid him of the contagion now or he will die.”

The Paladins surrounded the warpriest and offered support in the form of prayers while Divah willingly moved aside to allow them the space.

This was something she had not anticipated, and though she had dealt with disease and poisons before, she conceded the warpriest his prerogative without a word. She watched in awe and wonder as the warpriest chanted spells and invoked the regenerative energy into the fallen body of Marcus over and again for the next hour and more, attempting to quell the deadly infestation that consumed him.

It was for naught.

 “We need to burn his remains so that he does not return from the dead,” Garius stated with pain in his voice. “He deserves a hero’s burial. Yet, here I am faced with burning him instead of sending him off rightly in a glorious ritual.”

Silence and dejection filled the empty air. The warriors formed a semi-circle around the body of the fallen Paladin which they had stacked up high on neatly piled branches in a clearing. Garius started mouthing a prayer in remembrance of the valor of the man named Marcus while Bralon struck the tinder twice. The kindling caught quickly.

They all stood silently in reverence and watched as the Paladin was consumed by the flames.

“It is never easy to lay a loved one to rest,” Divah announced softly to the warpriest.

“He deserved a champion’s funeral and instead we have to take the practical precaution.” There was a brief pause and she regarded him sympathetically. “It comes with the territory, but we do not have to like it,” he replied. “I thank you for your condolences in the matter.” He saw the look of concern on her face, though his stare returned to her nothing but hardened features and eyes as cold as ice.

After an hour passed, the ceremony was concluded and a proud servant of The Shimmering One lay dead.

“You did your best,” Bralon assured the warpriest, slapping him on the back.

“Aye” he nodded. “We all did. But where in Pandemonium did these foul things come from?”

“I am not sure,” responded Bralon from beneath his helm. “But we have to get moving. Our supplies dwindle with each day and we need a break from the road.”

Garius nodded his consent and they all mounted up and sped off toward Dhegg, the halfling propelling her own pony to its limits.

At one point, Garius looked back to see the pyre burning, smoke billowing into the night sky, even though they were several miles away by now.

Within the hour, Garius witnessed a light coming from a burrow hidden deep within the soil and realized that they had wandered right into Dhegg and had not even realized it.

The town was mostly subterranean, structured slightly below the uneven grounds of the Stonehill region, with one or two of the dwellings extending on into a huge grove of trees that grew harmoniously adjacent to one another. Garius was aware that the gnome’s defenses were their stealthily concealed burrows, granting them the element of surprise against would-be invaders.

It was then that he abruptly perceived the shadowy figures, short of stature and hiding behind the crests of the surrounding hills. Some were even in the trees above. Gnomes stood or crouched with crossbows cocked and ready to fire upon them. However, it seemed that they were awaiting a command to discharge their weapons, for they restrained their volleys.

Garius had been so preoccupied with his own guilt at having let Marcus die that he hadn’t noticed any of it. He thanked The Shimmering One that his folly hadn’t cost them even more lives.

“Hold!” called a voice from overhead. It was wheezy, yet forceful.

“It be very late, strangers,” said a smallish man, who slowly came into view, descending from high above in the shadows.