7​ The Necropolis has Fallen

TAVER BEGAN TO sweat as they made their way down the uneven steps inside the tower. The echoing cries, clash of metal, and the shuddering impacts grew louder.

Tezcat was getting too far ahead, no doubt eager to get involved. The undead didn’t view danger like the living did, at least in his experience. How, he thought, is a rock-skulled fisherman like me supposed to protect her? She’s more powerful than I am, and she’s not a full mage. He could watch her back. Sure, he could do that much.

Descending to the third level, they exited by a small postern door within an alcove. Beyond was a stone corridor lit by torches, the air thick with smoke. Usually there were Necros Guardians patrolling, but this time a corpse greeted them. The headless body smouldered from an attempted cremation. The severed head lay close to the alcove. The girl had been a viral, he guessed, though it was hard to tell due to the extensive damage.

Tezcat stared down at the head, face impassive.

‘Who was it?’ asked Taver, as he tried not looking at it.

‘Elvyra,’ she said in a whisper.

‘Oh, I thought she was one of the living.’ Then he wondered why he’d thought that. Was it how Tezcat had spoken of her, like a real person? Oh, you’ve got barnacles for brains. What is Cat to you, if not a real person? It was too complicated. A good thing there was lots of killing and dying to distract him.

Tezcat shook her head. ‘We needs to give answers for this.’ She knelt beside the head, and then picked it up. Another unique fact about the undead; they didn’t feel repulsed by the same things as the living. Tezcat was turning the head this way and that, as though fascinated. Another thing was the lack of blood; cut their heads off, and it was a bit of an anti-climax. Oh, listen to me, he thought, giving himself a mental kick. I’m rambling in my own skull. Now they’d halted, he realised his hands were shaking.

A commotion drew his attention, and he moved to grab Tezcat. She was placing the head with what remained of the body. He didn’t think there was any magic, viralic or spectralic, which could help Elvyra. It was one of the hardest lessons. When you really needed it, magic was often useless. From the expression on his friend’s face, he knew she wanted to attempt something anyway. Nah, there’s no way she could...right? ‘No time for anything, Cat. We gotta move!’

They’d barely taken two steps into the corridor when, ahead and around a corner, a mage appeared with two Necros Guardians acting as rear guard. The trio were retreating, step by step, from a threat Taver couldn’t see. Then two Aidari emerged, advancing on the mage. The viral flung magic past them, drawing power from the life forces of the two treacherous students.

Moments later, five other Necros came into view. Like the two Aidari, these were traitors. They advanced on the mage and guards. The loyal Necros duo looked wounded, but neither seemed willing to give up.

The mage struck again, and the bodies of the Aidari withered before Taver’s eyes. Their lives fed the mage’s power. Serves the turncoats right, he thought, feeling sick at the thought that any could have betrayed them. Both Necros who guarded the mage advanced, but they fell to the swords of their former comrades. Three enemies now remained.

One got close enough to flank the mage. He attempted to drive a dagger into the viral’s neck. As he struck, the other two charged. The Necros with the dagger convulsed and collapsed, the weapon inches from its target. The last two also dropped, skin wrinkled like burnt parchment.

The viral whirled to face Taver and Tezcat, dalba slashing the air.

It was Lyrin.

As she stalked towards them, Tezcat leapt in front of her friend with arms spread. The mage halted a few feet away. What was visible of her face beneath the hood revealed one of her eyes missing, part of her face collapsed. The damage looked fresh. Wisps of grey hair hung down. ‘Don’t be a fool, Tezcathya Licolo,’ the mage snapped. ‘I have no intention of harming your Aidari. You both must flee. The Necropolis has fallen.’

Tezcat shook her head. ‘Beez, he—’

‘Mage Beezer is taking everyone to Reaper’s End. If you had gone to your room as instructed, you would know this. You will follow them, and I implore you to hurry. Keep your Aidari close. It seems loyal ones are a little hard to find these days.’

‘Yes, mage,’ said Tezcat in a small voice.

Lyrin smiled. ‘You always were a terrible student, up to mischief and never listening to a word.’ She paused, and then added, ‘I will miss you, young one, but we will meet again.’

Behind Lyrin, two ethereal forms, distorted and sickly, approached. Taver felt his mouth go dry. They flanked a red cloaked soldier with a spear. The soldier’s body bled from innumerable cuts, and a gash to her head, but she appeared oblivious to the wounds. She was dragging a broken leg behind her. Then he noticed the beetles swarming out of her mouth and ears.

Go!’ Lyrin shouted, turning to face the new threat. ‘Go, now, and don’t look back!’

The apparitions and the soldier surged forward. Lyrin struck them with twin blasts of her power; spinning dark vortices. The floor and walls erupted in shards of stone and dust.

Taver pulled a reluctant Tezcat after him. They couldn’t help. More concussions reverberated through the ancient building as they ran.

‘Glad I didn’t spit on her head,’ said Tezcat.

‘Yeah,’ he panted, ‘me too.’ They’d halted at a point where the corridor divided into three. There were numerous doors down the length of the leftmost corridor, some ajar. The centre corridor was in shadow, and the rightmost passage was thick with smoke. Which way should they go? He hadn’t a clue.  

‘She shouldn’t have full-named me though. I hates it.’

‘That’s what’s bothering you right now?’

‘What’s worse? She knows I hates it.’

‘Suits you. Tezcathya, or do you prefer, Cathya?’

She shot him a hateful glare, and he laughed. Every nerve in his body felt alive, heart thumping in his chest. He felt terror, but a part of him revelled in it, as though danger meant something. He felt his horns growing a little. Clam-headed as they come. Focus, you idiot!

Rebels, brandishing an array of weapons, appeared charging from the smoke in the rightmost passage. The Necros in the lead, a junior officer, clutched the severed and blackened head of another viral.

Tezcat moved to face them—a dark shimmer had appeared around the viral girl. The walls nearest the Aidari youths exploded. Grasping hands grabbed at their hair, arms, legs, and clothing, bringing their charge to a halt. Blood curdling screams replaced their cries of glee. The dead ancestors buried within the walls of the Necropolis ripped the rebels apart.

Tezcat looked back and offered Taver a grin, but instead of returning it, he pointed down the same corridor. A wight had appeared. Its touch felled the re-animated dead, negating her magic. It also finished off two of the rebels. Perhaps no one had told it they were on the same side?

I doubt it cares, he thought.

A second wight joined the first. They advanced, and the Aidari lunged for his friend, grabbing her by the shoulders. However, a billowing blast of viralic power slammed into the ghostly creatures from behind, drawing their attention.

It was all he needed, and dragging Tezcat with him, they fled down the leftmost corridor; he slammed one of the heavy wooden doors shut behind them. There was a crossbar by the wall, which he dropped into place.

The screams died away, until only the distant sounds of battle, and Taver’s panting, could be heard.