to swing it backwards and forwards in front of him, hoping that it would keep the creatures at bay. The light fluttered but remained bright.
What had they found here, he wondered? Had this been the residence of a necromancer, performing his unholy arts hidden from his neighbours? Or was it the temple of some murderous cult who re-animated their victims for their own unholy purposes? Sardec knew there were many secret Brotherhoods throughout the land, and some of them dabbled in very dark arts indeed. He thought of the Prophet Zarahel and his followers who had almost succeeded in unleashing the Spider God Uran Ultar. Had they stumbled over a cult like that here?
He remembered the Lady Asea's theory that Zarahel’s work might have been sponsored by Talorea's enemies. He recalled also the Nerghul that had been unleashed against them in Morven. Perhaps this was yet another site where the agents of the Dark Empire had been at work. Perhaps those things trying to break free below had been created with a military purpose. Perhaps there were more places like this. If that were really the case, this whole huge city might prove to be nothing but a vast trap. For a moment the image of whole regiments of undead troops emerging into the night filled Sardec's mind. Perhaps they could not be killed. Perhaps they would sweep all before them. Or perhaps they were only the shock-troops of some new sorcerous threat. He pictured the Nerghul or a host of creatures like it emerging to lead the horde of darkly resurrected warriors.
Get a grip, he told himself. So far this nest is the only one you know of. It's the only threat you can see. Deal with it.
The dead came ever closer. Sardec wondered if he could make it to the head of the stairs.
'You are going in there, with all those walking corpses?' Rik knew Asea was going to. He was just trying to delay the inevitable. The soldiers who had emerged from the cellar looked terrified. Sardec was still in there playing the hero.
'There can’t be more than a few of them, and I am not going in alone — you and Karim are going with me.'
'I was afraid you were going to say that.' In the back of his mind, the voices whispered warnings. They did not like the walking dead. There was no nourishment left in them.
Asea produced a sphere from her collection of sorcerous adjuncts and screwed it into the end of a brass wand. With a word, she lit it. A soft glow emerged from the depths of the crystal. She let out a long breath and gestured for them to proceed into the tumbled building.
'Let's go,' said Asea.
Karim virtually sprang to the head of the stair. Rik moved more slowly to follow him. The Barbarian pressed along behind. He might be keen to impress Lady Asea, but he was not that keen. He moved to the head of the stairs and looked down. With the Barbarian blocking most of Asea's light behind him, corners of the room were shadowy, but even so he did not like what he saw.
Sardec crouched on the stairs. Walking corpses shambled towards him. Asea raised her wand and spoke a word of power. Chained lightning danced within the chamber, flickering from animated body to animated body. A smell of frying meat and ozone filled the air. The walking dead slumped to the floor. Whatever spark of infernal fire had animated them was gone. Rik surveyed the scene with cold eyes while the voices whispered panicked phrases in his head. He did not know what had frightened them more, Asea’s lightning or the sight that greeted his eyes.
The chamber was a butcher's shop full of human corpses. In the centre of the room was a tub full of fluid that roiled agitatedly.
Karim sprang lightly down the stairs and Rik followed more cautiously, treading as silently as ever he had done as a thief in Sorrow and paying just as much attention to his search for hidden traps. Karim moved around the room looking for any enemies.
Rik moved cautiously towards the bubbling vat. He held his sword ready. Fear churned in his stomach. The voices gibbered as if they sensed his fear and responded to it.
His eyes had grown accustomed to the gloom now. He wished his nose would get used to the stink, but he doubted it ever would. He paused a moment and glanced around. It was like being in a butcher's shop, except that instead of sides of beef from cattle, the hanging bodies were those of men and women. He shook his head, as for the first time he really considered what had gone on here.
Someone had worked with all this stuff. It had not just happened to be here. It was the product of a lot of work and a lot of preparation. Someone had spent a good deal of time and money creating all this. What sort of diseased mind would do that? There would have been a time, not so long ago when Rik might have had trouble answering that question, but not now. He had encountered too many wicked sorcerers and their creations to have any trouble with that. He knew there were people who would do anything for power. There were those who would work dark miracles to satisfy their own curiosity and bolster their own egos.
He peered down into the vat. The fluid churned and he thought he made out two dark shapes down there. An almost overpowering urge to bend closer and look in filled his mind. He fought it back. He knew the price such inquisitiveness could exact from bitter experience. He was somehow not surprised when a head broke surface. He found himself face to face with a pale animated corpse, blood dripping from its hair and open mouth and eye- sockets. It reached for him, and instinctively he brought the blade up into the guard position as Karim has taught him. The point of his blade almost touched the hellish thing's chest.
It did not stop the creature. It pushed forward, trying to clamber out of the blood-filled tub despite the point piercing its breast. Rik leaned forward, putting all his weight on his front leg as he drove the blade home. Dark fluid flowed. There was an odd sizzling sound and the smell of burning flesh as the magical blade bit deep. Wisps of smoke flowed from the wound, more reddish black fluid dribbled from the corners of the corpse's mouth. It slid forward along the blade reaching for him. Its yellow-toothed, grey-gummed smile was ghastly, for there was no expression in its filmed, dead eyes.
Rik sprang back, ripping his blade free. From out of the gloom something streaked by. It buried itself in one eye of the creature and came out the other side. A moment later Rik realised it was a black fletched arrow. Barely a heartbeat later, another one took out the other eye. The corpse tumbled forward and lay still on the ground.
Everyone stood frozen like statues for a long minute while they waited to see what would happen next. Eventually Asea broke the tableau and advanced to inspect the corpse and the bubbling vat of hell-broth it had emerged from. She sniffed the air.
She swept over to the nearest of the corpses. The stink was awful. There was a suggestion of rot and chemicals and something else, curdled milk perhaps. Asea bent over the corpse, took out a small steel pin from her purse and collected a sample of the nauseating fluid. She studied it quite closely, sniffing it. Rik wondered how she could do that without showing any signs of illness. He supposed that after two millennia of practicing sorcery you could get used to anything.
'What is it, Milady?'
'Necroplasma,' she said.
'What?'
'Necroplasma. It is a substance used by alchemists and necromancers when re-animating corpses. It is based on blood and used instead of it. You drain the blood from a corpse, fill it full of chemicals, perform certain unholy rituals over it and then re-inject it into the dead body to animate it.'
'It's obviously been used here then.'
'Nothing much escapes your keen eye, does it, Rik?' He looked at her sharply. Asea was not often given to the use of sarcasm. Perhaps she was feeling more strain than she showed.
'What is going on here, Milady? Why would anybody want to make these things?'
'A good question, Rik, and one to which there are several answers. The most obvious one is that they were making soldiers from the corpses.'
'One cellar full would hardly be enough to hamper our whole army.'
'Indeed, therefore it would be perhaps be wise to assume that there is more than one hiding hole for these things.'
'Perhaps it was only one Necromancer going about his business.'
'It would be nice to think that, but these days I find myself overly suspicious.'
'If it's any consolation I share that trait. What are we going to do now?'
