City of the Dead (29 page)

“Gustin,” Sophraea exclaimed, “the curse is still working!”

“We can’t be sure,” he said.

“1 am certain,” replied Sophraea, seeing two more corpses line up behind the bony skeleton in velvet robes. The dead made their stately way through the tunnel toward them, marching stiffly, staring straight ahead. “Gustin, I think we should go now!”

The dead, unlike the ones encountered at dawn, seemed to be advancing with a steadier tread. One bore a rusted antique sword and made the occasional slow slashing motion with it. Another held aloft a tattered but obviously antique banner bearing the insignia of a long dead religion. Once again, the most noble of Waterdeep’s corpses were on the march toward Dead End House. And this time, they were taking the lower route to the basement door.

Gustin finally spotted the increasing army of dead accumulating in the tunnels. He grabbed at Sophraea and began pulling her away from the corpses on parade.

Feeler gave a shout. Fish dropped back a step or two. More corpses appeared at other entrances to the tunnel. Many of these dead wore rusted armor and rotted leather, and carried shields or spears.

“They’re taking portals now,” exclaimed Feeler. “These must be from the heroes’ graves.”

“You mean all the dead are heading toward Waterdeep?” Sophraea was appalled. The ancient nobility roused out of the tombs within the walls of the City of the Dead were a fair number. What if all the corpses from the outlying graveyards started tele-porting through tunnels and into the City ofthe Dead above them!

Eventually the sheer numbers would overwhelm any defenses set into the walls or gates.

Gustin groaned. “I didn’t end the curse! I think I strengthened

it.”

“Come on,” Sophraea said to Gustin. “We have to get home and warn everyone.”

It took her less than a moment to get her bearings. The tug of each monument in the City of the Dead felt stronger than ever before.

Sophraea pointed to a narrow feeder tunnel that they had passed once before. She ran to it and peered through the entrance. “I don’t see any moving skeletons or other revenants. I think it would be safer to go this way to Dead End House.”

“I don’t think we can avoid this,” Gustin muttered. The tunnels behind them echoed with the steady tramp of marching feet. Feeler and Fish dropped back, keeping a wary watch over their shoulders. So far, none of the dead had reacted to them. Instead, the corpses seemed to be hurrying to a predetermined destination.

With her sight of the City of the Dead above them filling her vision, Sophraea could barely see the tunnel walls around them. She could feel a tug in her breastbone pulling her toward her family home and the gate above, the only exit the dead could use to escape the graveyard.

“Perhaps we’re going the wrong direction,” said Gustin, when Sophraea led them through the corkscrew turns of the narrow tunnel. “This isn’t like the way that we used the last time.”

“No, this is the right way,” said Sophraea, acutely aware of the dead filling the tunnels behind them and the graveyard above them. Like the tide moving water in Waterdeep’s harbor, Gustin’s amplification of the curse was drawing them nearer and nearer.

“I still think we are going to have problems when we get there,” said Gustin, his shoulders twitching as if he too could feel the growing numbers of the dead walking above them as well as behind them.

Sophr.it.i was right about the tunnel leading back to Dead End House. It joined the main tunnel just a short way before the basement door.

Gustin was right about their problems increasing.

An army of the dead stood facing the door, weapons raised as if poised to attack.

Bow upon row of skeleton soldiers stood at attention in front of the basement door of Dead End House. The skeletons faced the door as though waiting for it to open.

“How do we get past them?” said Sophraea. She stared, appalled, at the rows of shining spines revealed by holes in their decrepit armor. Every skeleton was outfitted in a motley collection of rusting plate and rotting leather. Each carried a pitted sword or a bent spear.

“They look pretty brittle,” whispered Gustin in her ear. “Maybe we could bowl them over.”

“With what?” she snapped back a little louder than she meant to. The noise didn’t seem to matter to the skeletons. No heads turned under dented helmets to seek them out. Instead the entire bony squadron looked uncomfortably like they were waiting for someone to come along and command them. Perhaps an angry hero returning from the far fields, she thought.

“I may be able to raise up a little wind,” Gustin said, “but that spell is better outside than inside.”

“What will it do down here?” Sophraea whispered. “Don’t know,” said Gustin. “Haven’t ever tried it inside before. Should be interesting.”

“We would do better to summon the door’s watcher,” suggested Feeler. His fellow gravedigger Fish hissed and shook his scaly head. Feeler frowned at him and shook his own head back, the tentacles writhing in agitation around his face.

“The watcher will let Sophraea pass,” Feeler said to Fish’s

unspoken objection. “And the rest of us who dwell at Dead End House. It knows its duty.”

Fish pursed his lips and made a slight popping sound.

Feeler shrugged, “Sophraea can call it; she’s a Carver.”

“I’ve never even seen it,” Sophraea objected.

Vaguely, she remembered the uncles talking once or twice about whistling for the door’s watcher but she thought that was an adventure that belonged to their youth. Neither she nor any of the family in her generation had ever needed to invoke the guardian who watched over Dead End House’s lowest entrance.

“Any Carver can command it,” said Feeler. “But you need a whistle to wake it.”

“Is there one on this side of the door?” Sophraea asked. As far as she knew, two whistles were in the house. Like all the children, she had been shown the one on the hook in Feeler’s rooms and the other one hanging near Myemaw’s kettle in the kitchen. As she recalled, they’d all been firmly told the silver whistles were not toys and must never be used except-under the direst of circumstances.

Having a squadron of skeletons assembled for the invasion of Dead End House probably counted as dire enough, Sophraea decided.

“There’s one whistle concealed in a hollow rock in this tunnel, for any Carver who might need it on this side of the door,” revealed Feeler.

“Really? No one ever told me that!” she exclaimed. “You’d think they might have done.”

“And where’s the rock?” asked Gustin in a suspicious tone of voice.

Feeler pointed silently at the closest skeleton. One of the dead guard’s booted feet rested on a smooth gray stone that stuck up a little from the floor.

“Of course that’s where it is.” Gustin sighed.

Sophraea hefted the basket full of bricks and shook them in front of his face.

“How good are you at throwing?” she asked Gustin.

With a grin, he reached into her basket and pulled out one of the half bricks.

“I used to knock nuts out of the trees by throwing stones at them,” he said. “And I was pretty good at skipping stones too.”

Sophraea pulled another half brick out of the basket and tossed it twice in her hand to get a feel for the weight.

“I used to be able to hit Leaplow at one hundred paces with his battered old ball,” she recalled.

Gustin handed the remaining two chunks of brick to Feeler and Fish.

“Ladies first,” he said gallantly.

“Shove them back as much you can,” Sophraea said, “I’ll go for the whistle.”

“We will defend you while you summon the watcher,” Feeler said. Fish nodded.

“Very well,” said Sophraea, “on the count of three. One, two …”

“Three!” they all yelled.

Sophraea’s brick scored a direct hit on the booted skeleton standing on the hollow rock. The brick struck the helmet with a clang. The skeleton’s whole head flew off and rolled past the row of skeletons standing in front of it.

“Well done!” Gustin shouted.

The confused and now headless skeleton spun about, blindly waving its crooked sword, which nicely hooked into the spear of the skeleton standing next to it. Both creatures went tumbling in a tangled clatter of bones and plate armor.

But there were still three more standing between Sophraea and the stone.

Gustin’s brick cracked the ribs of one skeleton, sending it reeling away. Feeler and Fish managed to jostle their skeleton targets with bricks to the shoulder blade and the hipbone respectively.

The skeleton soldiers spun as though trying to determine the origin of the attack. The empty eye holes in their skulls stared unseeing.

Sophraea darted forward, with Gustin and the rest just a pace behind her. Out ofthe corner of her eye, she saw the wizard scoop up the crooked sword dropped by the skeleton.

He swung the blade in a wide circle, its rusted edge clicking against bone as he forced dead warriors back.

Feeler and Fish grabbed the nearest skeleton, and, like her brothers with a wishbone, they snapped the creature in two. Feeler used the legs to beat back the others. Fish lobbed the head, the clavicle, and other parts at various attackers.

Sophraea kneeled and curled her fingers around the rock. The niche hadn’t been opened in years. Passing feet had shoved it tightly into its hole.

Feeler shouted, “Hurry!”

The rest of the skeleton army was starting to stir, turning reluctantly away from the door to face the foes that had beaten down their fellows.

Sophraea scrambled at the rock, looking wildly around for something to lever it out of its niche. She spotted a rusted bit of armor within reach. She had no idea what it was. It was flat and had a sharp corner and that’s what mattered. Scooting on hands and knees between falling skeletons, she touched its edge, lurched, and managed to grab it.

Bones dropped around her from disintegrating skeletons. A severed hand bounced off her shoulder. She saw it, bit back a shriek and scooted backward.

Holding the metal piece in both hands, she wedged it under

the rock’s edge and dug between the paving stones. The gray rock tipped up.

Nestled into a carved crevice was the silver whistle. She quickly pried it loose and set it to her lips.

Sophraea blew with all her might, a blast of shrill sound.

In the shadows above the basement door, the watcher stirred. It stretched its wings slowly, scraping against the ceiling as it leaned forward out of its niche. It tilted its horned head and yawned, revealing its back molars as well as the curving tusks at the front. The flexible front paws clenched a little tighter on the stone ledge where it sat, crumbling the edge into gravel that showered down on the skeletons assembled below.

“Protect the door!” Sophraea yelled to it. “Keep out anything dead!”

The watcher gave a ponderous nod at her simple commands and launched itself from its niche with a powerful kick of the heavy back legs. It sailed a few feet on its basalt wings before landing with a thud in the center of the skeletons. The gem dust that coated its skin glittered in the pale light of the tunnel. The big wings snapped out, knocking four skeletons down.

The rest of the skeletons turned toward this new attacker, rushing forward to grapple with the guardgoyle.

“It’s alive,” Gustin breathed, “but it is stone too. And responding to commands. That’s beautiful magic!”

The wizard seemed transfixed by the guardgoyle’s sweeps of its horned head. Each jab drove back another skeleton.

Sophraea dropped the silver whistle into her apron pocket. She’d replace it in its hiding place another day. She grabbed her basket with one hand and Gustin’s arm with the other because the wizard still stood motionless, watching the guardgoyle.

“Why didn’t you tell me what it was?” Gustin complained as she dragged him away. “How old is it? Who cast the spell? Does

your family have a copy of the spell in their ledger? Or even a note about when it was done?”

“We can look later,” Sophraea promised as she propelled him toward the door. “Gustin, come on!”

Two skeletons broke off from the fight with the guardgoyle to try to block their escape. Sophraea swung her basket and Gustin stuck out one long leg. The spear carrier ducked the basket only to be tripped up by Gustin and fall heavily against the sword bearer. Both went down in a clatter of bones. The rib cage of one became entangled in the leg bones of the other. They thrashed and rolled across the floor.

Hand-in-hand, Sophraea and Gustin hopped over the skeletons.

Feeler stepped in front, pulling out the iron key for the Dead End door. With a quick snap, he unlocked the door and shoved it open.

“We best go before the watcher starts screaming,” Feeler said, pushing Gustin and Sophraea forward. Gustin stretched his neck, still trying to get the best possible view of the guardgoyle’s movements.

Nipping in behind them, Fish nodded vigorously, already clapping his hands over his ear holes.

Still fighting in the middle of a knot of skeletons, the guardgoyle opened its big mouth in preparation for a scream.

Fish slammed the Dead End door shut as quickly as possible. Although the heavy wood door muffled the worst of the guardgoyle’s shriek, everyone winced at the burst of sound.

“I wonder if skeletons can be deafened,” Sophraea said, rubbing her smarting ears.

Feeler gave a sympathetic shrug. His tentacles were wrapped tightly around his head, effectively creating earplugs for both ears.

“I do not think the dead will be able to pass it,” he said.

“There were so many following us in the tunnels,” Sophraea worried. The dead that she’d seen in the tunnels seemed much more substantial and dangerous than the ones who had been dancing through the upper gate in the last few days. She had a feeling that these corpses wouldn’t be content with just knocking at Rampage Stunk’s windows.

“But the guardgoyle is very strong and all the corpses that we saw moving in the tunnels were very old and quite rotted. I do not think that they will be able to overcome it,” Feeler stated. “But Fish and 1 will stay here. If the door is in danger of being breached, we will retreat to the higher levels, barring the gates and locking other doors behind us.”