The City of Memories

[Atzar]

Closed.

Remnants of the nameless Raiaeran town’s former beauty lingered everywhere. Elegant buildings rose from the ground, once perfect, now crumbling. The outer walls bore wonderful frescos and intricate carvings amid the scorch marks and rubble. Roofless homes gaped to the sky like screaming mouths, soundlessly lamenting their demise.

Ironic, then, that these hopeless structures provided desperate sanctuary for a band of beleaguered travelers. Atzar Kellon and eleven others crouched behind the shattered wall, peering intently at the swarm of abominations shambling ever closer. Though they were still some distance out onto the plain, already he could smell their rotting stench. He gagged, and the taste of bile invaded his mouth.

“Disgusting,” he complained to nobody in particular. A few others murmured their assent.

“Shush!” The rebuke from the “leader” was louder than any of the comments.

Atzar snorted. “What? They know we’re here.”

“Mercenary, I remind you that your task is to escort me to and from Eluriand in safety. You are jeopardizing that mission.” Fear soaked the young noble’s words. Seething inwardly but calm on the surface, the mage regarded him. The brat fancied himself a scholar, just as he fancied himself a leader. In truth he was a nitwit, with little common sense and even less experience. Once again Atzar reminded himself of the fat purse of gold he stood to acquire if he could deliver this dolt back to his father in one piece. Still, enough was enough; he needed to make a point. The fool needed to be put in his place before he endangered them all.

His name was Navera. Wide-eyed and white-knuckled with dread, the richly-robed man had entrenched himself at the base of the town’s ruined outer wall. While the other men watched the oncoming threat through crumbling holes or blackened gaps where the stone had been blasted away, the noble steadfastly refused to take a peek. Not far from the terrified man was a hanging piece of stonework, resting perhaps fifteen feet from the ground and weakened by the parasitic influence of many fissures.

How convenient.

It was but the work of a second to give the stone some encouragement. With a sharp crack and a spurt of dust the overhang gave way, crashing to the ground not ten feet from Navera. With a panicked squeal the man leapt away from the wall, staring in terror at the fallen rubble.

Atzar grinned. “It seems the wall dislikes your attitude even more than I do.” A couple of muffled chuckles escaped the mouths of the others in the group. It seemed the fool hadn’t endeared himself to anybody.

Navera whirled on him, pointing a trembling finger at the mage’s chest. “You did that,” he accused him wildly with a voice that was probably audible in Alerar. Apparently the noble’s demands for quiet didn’t apply to himself.

“No,” Atzar lied. “I stand to gain too much by your survival; wouldn’t risk it. But I’d keep that in mind if I were you. You need to stay worth it, if you get my meaning.” The grin had dropped from his face, replaced by an intense stare.

The wizard wouldn’t have thought Navera’s eyes could get any wider, but they did. “A-are you threatening me?!”

Atzar’s grin returned. “It sounds like it, doesn’t it?” With that, the mage turned his back and resumed watching the approaching undead.

[Rehtul Orlouge]

Such recklessness for the pride of a pompous twit.

That single thought raced through Rehtul’s head as he watched the gathered mercenaries around him trying haplessly to protect the fool noble that they had been contracted to protect. They’d been in Raiaera for days, plodding along, meandering at this person’s sickeningly slow pace, and it was beginning to grate seriously on the young elementalist’s nerves.

He looked out through one of the holes in the wall and watched silently as the twisted shapes continued to meander around, only to overhear one of his compatriots arguing with and threatening the noble son. He felt the tell-tale tingle up his spine of magic being used, and turned around just in time to see the wall fall near the noble. If there were less stress to deal with, he might actually have cracked one of his rare smiles.

Finally, things began to quiet down and they could return their attention to more important matters, such as staying alive. He turned back to the hole in the wall and looked out at the shambling shadows once again.

“Why the hell did I come out here?” Of course, he knew the answer, but he still didn’t like it. He could still see his uncle’s face as he was pushed out the door. "Go on… The adventure could do you some good!" he had said, in his usual manner. While Rehtul did have an academic interest in their target, he was not the type to go out and perform a firsthand study.

When I get back home, I’m going to turn Sei into a human popsicle. With that thought cooling his temper, Rehtul turned around and leaned his back against the wall. He sank down and sat amid the rubble, the cracked, rubble-strewn stone floor beneath him putting an uneven pressure on his legs. The creatures would be sure to find them, given enough time, and the stench was definitely growing stronger. He looked at the people around him and noticed that they, too, were beginning to grow slightly ill under the stress or the stench they were facing. If the young man had to hazard a guess, more of them were ill from the stench than the stress.

The mage sighed as he caught the eye of another member of the expedition. They traded a look that indicated neither of them really wanted to be there and looked away from each other. The so-called leader of the expedition didn’t seem to be in too big of a hurry to leave, considering the imminent threat of the undead around them.

Finally, the young mage decided to speak up. “They know we’re here, and we’re basically in a corner. If we don’t move soon, I’m fairly certain that we’ll be swarmed in no time.” He looked from face to face among the people assembled. Even some of the more battle hardened among them seemed to pale at that prospect. “I don’t believe any of us has any particular want to die, so if we are still going to Eluriand, can we at least find a spot where these things can’t get at us from all sides?”

He motioned to the crumbling and broken walls and to the glassless windows surrounding them to drive his point home. Unfortunately, building up the will to speak in front of the whiney noble had taken too long, as Rehtul heard a growling moan within ten yards of them.

He stood quickly drew his knife from his belt and mumbled, “Wonderful.” Though they’d come across the odd fight between the coast and this outskirts area of the capital, these creatures would likely pose a bit more of a challenge. He heard the ringing of steel being drawn around him and hoped fervently under his mask of nonchalance that he would be able to keep up with the others around him as the group of the undead continued to approach. For a split second, panic seemed to break through and a huge shudder overcame his body.

As he backed away from the wall, he saw a festering arm reach through the hole in the wall he’d been looking out of just moments earlier. His eyes widened slightly, but he struck out at the arm anyway, cutting through flesh and bone, though the creature made absolutely no sound of pain. The wall began to crack as the zombified being continued to push against it, until it finally gave way.

The gaunt, emaciated face of a young elf looked out from underneath blackened, grime covered hair, the remnants of battle armor flaking away in pieces with the more violent movements. The arm that the young mage had attacked with his knife was hanging by a small sliver of flesh, and what was worse was that there was still a number of them remaining even if we was able to kill this one. Even though he wasn’t alone, against dark magics such as these, he feared himself to be in solitude no matter how large a group he was fighting with.

[Atzar]

Conceived by the foul marriage of sorcery and nightmare, the monsters had lost all remnants of Elven civility and grace. They shambled forward mindlessly, groaning and reeking so horribly that the mage could actually taste their stench. Again he gagged.

They had nearly reached the ruins of the wall when Atzar responded with fire. Brilliant gouts of flame erupted from his outstretched palms through the gap in front of him. In mere seconds, four of the monstrosities found themselves engulfed in the blaze. The pungent odor of scorched flesh joined their own decaying scent, yet still they trundled forth, oblivious to the searing heat. Desperate questions entered the wizard’s mind, but still he pressed his assault.

It wasn’t until the first of the undead reached the wall that the fire did its deadly work. Just as the fell beast reached forth a putrid hand, it collapsed into a pile of embers and charred bones. With final famished groans, its blazing brethren joined it soon after.

Filled with renewed confidence, Atzar gazed across the outstretched grassland. Many of the beasts still approached, yet to the mage the odds no longer felt insurmountable. He had seen them burn, seen them fall. All around him he could hear hideous snarls, cut short by the crunch of steel on bone. We can win, he thought. Then, with a private smirk, he amended the notion. We can’t lose! With that, his usual recklessness kicked in. With two swift movements, he grabbed the worn stone of the wall and vaulted through the gap, landing amidst the remains of the beings he had already killed.

Defenseless yet unassailable, he strode out into the open, firing molten blasts at every abomination that entered his line of sight. He became a machine. The fear vanished; the uncertainty disappeared. Gone even was his objection to the offensive odor. In their place was cold, calculating death, and he shared it willingly. It was as if he was alone on the field, just him and the beasts he slew –

"Mercenary!"

…and Navera.

Apparently in his state of blind panic, the fool had bolted out into the open. No less than seven of the starving undead closed in on the pallid noble, surrounding him on all sides. Too close for fire, Atzar realized. Reluctantly he switched to its opposite.

Frigid spears lanced through the intervening air, some of them shattering into crystalline showers as they struck the mindless mutants. Yet they weren’t nearly as effective as the inferno he had previously unleashed. The zombies ambled closer, ever closer, uncaring of the gaping wounds that opened in their torsos.

“Run, fool!” Atzar shouted desperately, sprinting toward the beleaguered noble. But despite his best efforts, it appeared he would get there too late. Already the nearest reached out and grabbed Navera’s robe, emitting a famished growl as it closed in to feed.

[Rehtul Orlouge]

Damn! There's too many of them! Rehtul swore to himself. He dodged left and right as the creatures came at him, and he swung his dagger blindly, severing rotten limbs left and right. "Kill as many as you can and escape! They're slow, and I can slow them down even further!" Concentrating his magic into his hands, the young ice mage gripped two nearby undead by their heads and pushed his magic into them before pushing them forcefully onto the stone strewn street below, shattering their heads open on the ground below. A sound like breaking glass echoed through the air as Rehtul stood himself back up.

"Run, fool!" he heard coming from somewhere nearby. Turning on his heel, Rehtul spotted one of his fellow mercenaries screaming at the young noble who had managed to find himself in the middle of a group of the diseased creatures attacking them. Each of the festering maggot-filled creatures lumbered toward them, their eyes set upon what was by all appearances an easy meal. Rehtul was about to run toward the bumbling noble, but another one of the undead creatures got between him and his target. He stomped his feet against the ground and ice began to creep up the legs of the creature attempting to attack him. As the ice solidified, the zombie continued to try to lumber toward him, but could not move and ended up starting to fall. Rehtul came underneath the beast and kicked as hard as he could at both legs, shattering them into small pieces before plunging his dagger into the head of it.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me!" Rehtul grunted under his breath. He ran toward the other spellcaster and stopped just short of running into him. "We need to protect him. Think you can get him out of there while I handle the corpses?" Without waiting for an answer, he ran headlong into the group surrounding the young noble idiot and pushed him out through a small opening between the man and the zombies, causing him to land on his ass.

"Who the hell do you think you are?!" Navera screamed at his hireling.

"The guy who's about to save your life," Rehtul replied, his eyes not leaving his intended targets. He slammed both of his hands on the ground and watched, smiling, as the ground around him froze over. The frost covering the ground began to climb slowly up the legs of the creatures, causing them to fall forward onto their hands, which also began to freeze over. Concentrating his power into the ground even further, he forced spikes up from within the frosted ground, stabbing through the bodies of the fallen zombies with abandon.

The elementalist wiped his brow of sweat as he began to feel the effects of using so many spells back to back. "I've got to learn to pace myself. When we get away from this, I'm going to need to rest for awhile," he said, smiling lightly even through the exhaustion. While it was true that this was a rather dangerous situation, cutting through the vast horde was still pretty fun.