Crowned in Black: Chapter 8

The doors boomed closed, leaving the five of us alone with the dead.

"There's walking corpses down here. I can feel it like a bad itch between the legs," Vash muttered.

"Calm your tits, Dorha. Those are still sealed." Ebisa pointed to the massive stone sarcophagi that lined the chambers to either side. Each unopened tomb was sculpted with rough humanoid figures rendered in spirals and whorls. They were just realistic enough to be unsettling.

"My tits are as well trained at the rest of me for detecting the undead, you damnable scarecrow," Vash muttered back. "And the way they’re are tingling tells me that there's walking skeletons somewhere to be found in this crusty sinkhole."

I scratched the edge of my jaw. “Would you say we’re at a ‘P. Spoopy’ or ‘2Spooky’ alert level?”

Karalti slowly turned to look back at me. “Hector… if you start singing Spooky Scary Skeletons, I’m going to crush your nuts against a wall.”

For once, it was Vash’s turn to look confused. “What?”

“Uhh… that is a genuine vintage meme. Don’t worry.” As I valiantly mastered the powerful urge to start bawling Spooky Scary Skeletons, I pulled the Spear from my back and spun it around to face out in my hand. "If there’s any undead down here, then we'll make them dead. Dead again. One more time."

The crypt grew mustier and dimmer as we pushed back into the older rooms. The coffins went from ornate to weathered and pitted, and then rudimentary. Three flights of stairs and about four hundred feet from the entry, we descended into a network of smooth, rounded stone tunnels. There were niches hewn into the walls, almost like bunk beds, each containing the mummified remains of a corpse.

“What were you saying about unbreakable coffins, Ebisa?” Vash narrowed his eyes at the Mercurion, who was leading us with a torch. The flickering firelight caught each skeletal face with hard, unsettling shadows.

“So I was wrong,” Ebisa replied stiffly. “Why are you so nervous, anyway? Your order is trained to fight the undead.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I LIKE them,” Vash retorted. “And to be frank, this western tradition of burying the dead and leaving them to dry out or rot gets my hackles up. It’s unnatural to store corpses. It’s no wonder every dungeon, attic and midden in Artana crawls with restless dead.”

"I kind of like undead. Well… the crunchy ones, anyway. Say: why do you think really old bodies smell like cheese?" Karalti asked the group.

I grimaced, watching the corpses for signs of movement as we slid by. "I'm uh... pretty sure that's dry rot."

“Oh.”Karalti hummed. “Well, it’s tasty.”

“Are all dragons this disgusting, or do you have some kind of mental problem from your traumatic upbringing?” Mehkhet’s hollow voice echoed from the back of the line.

“I must be pretty disgusting as dragons go, because I ate your mom and I thought she was delicious, too,” Karalti chirped back.

Vash sighed happily. “Ahh… Spoken like a true poet.”

“Dragons are also naturals at poetry,” Karalti affirmed. “And ‘your mom’ jokes.”

Mehkhet let out an exasperated tutting sound.

As grim as the situation was, I had to bite back a laugh. "Karalti, for the love of God, don’t eat anything down here. I have to smell your breath when we sleep."

"Don’t worry! I'm not really hungry," she said, wrinkling her nose. "Besides, I was joking about the dry rot thing. Mostly. I dunno, maybe they'd be alright with some salt or something."

I immediately had the bizarre image of dragons mindlessly snacking on the bodies of desiccated priests like corn chips. Thanks, ADHD brain.

"Narrow tunnel ahead." Ebisa called back.

"Just as well we have three close quarters fighters, because I'm going to be about as useful as tits on a bull down here," I muttered. The Spear of Nine Spheres was short as spears went, slightly over seven feet long. Even so, I couldn't wear it on my back down here. At any given point, the ceiling over our heads was about six and a half feet high. In the tunnel, it was even lower - Ebisa, the tallest of us, had to stoop.

"Well, none of our dead friends rose to life. Still itching with the presence of the undead here, monk?" The assassin's voice, soft as it was, carried back to us on the still, musty air.

"Mmph. Worried it's actually a rash at this point," Vash replied mournfully. "Ai yai yai... what will I tell Istvan? Or... what if I got it from Istvan?"

Mehkhet sighed from behind us, his hollow voice resonating through the darkness like a chilly wind at our backs. "Brother Dorha, perhaps I am giving your senses a false positive? I AM dead, and following right behind you."

"Believe me, I know," Vash muttered.

We were headed for yet another round barrows-like chamber, but my eyes snagged on some stuff out of place. First, I could see into the room without activating darkvision: it was lit with soft yellowish mage lights. Second, the corpses on the biers were not wrapped in bandages. There were four skeletons with shields and short swords, who wore ancient, rusted, Nordic-looking armor. Their helms would have had fine chain veils at one time, but now they looked like a mass of rusted worms crawling over and into the gaping sockets of their eyes. If the biers were mirrored on the side of the room not visible from the hallway, there were eight of them.

"Wait." Ebisa waved us back with the torch, and pointed up. There was a small portcullis over her head, cleverly set into the frame of the doorway - and ready to smash down behind anyone who entered. "Some sort of trap."

"Hmm." Vash eyed the door, then the bodies beyond with suspicion.

"Hmm." I echoed him, and glanced past them to the room. It was small enough that most of my flashy Dragoon moves wouldn't work in there. With their shields and gladius-like swords, the skeletons - if they animated - would have a huge tactical advantage even over Ebisa, who carried daggers and poisons only effective against living creatures, and Vash, who hit hard but was lightly armored. In Archemi, tactics was almost as important as level - 'David and Goliath' style victories were entirely possible.

"So I'm gonna vote this is a trap," Karalti said. "And probably a meaner one than we think it is."

"Uh... yeah." The door on the other side of the room was sealed. It almost looked like a bulkhead. "You know, I've got some oil and we've got a torch. I'm thinking we just give these guys a second funeral before they wake up."

"Yeah. Let's do that." Karalti grimaced. "I really hate it when dead things stop being dead."

"Saaaame." I turned back to glance at Mehkhet, hovering patiently behind me. "Can you try and work on that door? Maybe go through it and tell us if there's any mechanisms on the other side?"

"I cannot," he replied hollowly. "The walls and the door are warded against incorporeal beings. Unfortunately, were these draugr to rise, I would be of little use against them. Nor would they be particularly effective against me."

"Interesting." I'd suspected as much, but it was nice to have it confirmed. "Alright, thanks anyway."

"How polite of you, master," the shade replied sarcastically.

Ebisa, Vash and I put our heads together, and with ten minutes of effort, we had what amounted to high-end Molotov Cocktails made with liquid paraffin - white kerosene - rags, potion bottles and some alcohol to really get the rags burning. Ebisa and Karalti, with their slim builds and insane Dex, were the picks to do the throwing. They were able to stand side by side in the narrow entry.

"Alright. Get ready for charging flaming skeletons." I had the spear set between them, like a pikeman. "We can bottleneck them in here but, uh, breathing might be an issue for you, Vash."

"I can hold my breath for up to ten minutes if I have to," Vash replied. "Very popular with the ladies."

We waited for a count of five, then Ebisa and Karalti leaned in and threw the molotovs at the visible draugr. The missiles hit with unerring accuracy: shattering, splashing, then burning. Even though I was expecting it, I still jumped when the burning corpses shot upright, jaws gaping in silent screams. They didn't roar or make any noise at all, other than the piercing shriek of rusted metal plates sliding over one another - and that somehow made it worse.

The four molotov'd draugr flailed and clawed at their own bodies, burning like dry kindling - they didn't make it off their beds, tumbling back down as their HP plummeted to zero. The four we couldn't see or aim at from the door lurched up and off their biers and got to their feet, and as they did, their HP rings filled to a much higher number than their unconscious buddies had dropped. They were weaker while asleep.

"Shit. Get ready to hold them at the bottleneck. And whatever you do, don't trigger that damn trap door." I crouched low, the Spear ready to pin and thrust.

Ebisa slid back to make room for Vash, who danced in as the first non-flaming draugr rushed him and Karalti with shield and sword. Just before he closed, I stabbed forward, taking the brunt of the shield against the end of my polearm and turning it to the side. Karalti snarled as she grabbed the creature's sword arm, pulling him forward into the trap we'd made of the tunnel leading in. With the corpse’s weapons under control, Vash charged his fists with dark fire and began to hit it like a punching bag, driving his iron-shod knuckles into bone and leather as the draugr struggled.

[Vash uses Falling Star Strike! X3 Damage! Draugr: 11,719/15,000 HP]

For something without muscles, it was ridiculously strong - and felt no pain. As Vash smashed its ribs, it spun its gruesome head toward Karalti, snapping at her face. She shrieked and headbutted it, sending shards of bone and rusted metal flying, but it came right back and lunged for her. I shot a desperate look back to the room behind - the other three were headed for the door, clamoring with their wickedly sharp, rust-edged shortswords. "Push it out! Toward the door! He's too far in! Karalti, use your magic!"

Vash grunted, and shoved the skeleton back toward the entry, using it as a shield against the others as they surged toward us. Each one of the draugr had 10K HP - a lot for a single small mob like this - and seemed to soak even bludgeoning damage.

My eyes narrowed. I couldn't get most of my attacks off in this confined space, but there was one thing I could do.

I concentrated, focusing down the length of the spear as the creatures jostled and shoved back, and called on the Mark of Matir. The god's sigil flared to life with cold power under the skin of my hand; I pulled energy from it, charging it up into a fierce, churning web of power... then discharged the Shadow Lance with a roar.

[Draugr is weak to Darkness: x3 damage! Shadow Lance deals 15,637 damage!]

Blue-black fire lanced down the Spear and blasted through the draugr's shield. The blow slagged the rotted steel and struck the dead warrior behind, blowing it apart into ash. The blast drove the others back with instinctive terror, giving Karalti and Vash room to surge forward.

"Let's get them! There's only three, and they're at half health!" Karalti cried.

“Alright: into the breach!” Ebisa and I followed up as the trapped portcullis tried to slam down: I caught it with a grunt, holding it open long enough for the assassin to slip through, then spun and followed her in. The three remaining draugr charged us in silent formation, once again fearless and disciplined. They met the wall of Vash and Karalti, master and student holding them back with fists and feet and Dark-element qi. The energy was toxic to undead, dealing extra damage that compensated for the reduced damage of my spear thrusts and Ebisa's knives.

"Eat shit and die! Again!" I jammed the spear's blade into a gaping ribcage, and as the draugr clawed himself up along the haft, snarled with effort and burned another move that didn’t have jumping or dashing as a prerequisite - Life for Life. Arcs of energy snapped out and seared the draugr’s stiff flesh - it threw back its head in a silent howl as it slumped into dust, its unlife flowing back into me. But I was all out of tricks like that. All my other moves required space that just wasn't here.

I swung around to Ebisa, and as the draugr she was fighting blocked her daggers, I shoved the spear into its shield from the flank. That gap was all the agile assassin needed to dart in and sever the draugr’s head from its spine.

“Fuck yeah!” As its head toppled, a flash of movement caught my eye: Karalti, as she wove like a boxer around the two remaining undead. She and Vash had them pinned back to back. She darted in with one of the Baru moves she’d learned, a Dark-charged punch that did double damage on a headshot and could smash most undead skulls like ripe pumpkin. But as she landed the blow, the one dueling Vash suddenly twisted - and drove its sword deep into her side.

"Karalti!" I roared with sudden fury as my dragon reeled away, bright blue mana-infused blood pouring down her hip. Part of me knew she had a HP pool; most of me didn't give a shit. I zoned in on the last draugr and charged it down. The Spear skidded over its breastplate and burst through the skeleton's chest, slamming it into the sealed bulkhead door.

The impact jarred my hands, numbing my fingers just long enough that I didn’t twist away from the next sword blow. My Stormrider armor had phenomenal piercing resistance. It saved me from a [Mortal Blow] as the draugr clutched at me, then rammed his gladius into my kidney like the fist of god itself.

[You have taken 849 reduced damage! HP: 2365/3214]

“Khhack!” I arched and thrashed as white-hot pain erupted through my back and torso. Kidneys were up there with balls when it came to the Bad Touch department. I tried wrenching the Spear back, but it was stuck… and as fear pulsed through me, I felt my metal fangs distend. When another wave of icy-hot pain roiled through my back, my HP dropped below half… and I lost it, snarling and snapping at the draugr’s skeletal neck like a feral wolf.

"Burna help me... DOG! STOP CHEWING THE DAMN ZOMBIE!" Vash hollered from behind, but my vision was clouded with blood, nose full of the acrid smell of mana. Karalti's. I was vaguely aware that I was still losing HP, smashing the draugr back against the wall with feral strength.

“Karalt’, ik’tidash, el!” Karalti’s gauntlet drove in past my head, accompanied by a whoomph of magically charged energy: Black Sun Fist, supercharged by Dark Power.

[Karalti deals 15,369 damage!]

[You have defeated Draugr Guardians!]

[You gain 2930 EXP!]

[You are Level 35! Mehkhet has reached Unit Rank 13 (Level 27)]

It was Karalti who pulled me away. She caught me behind the elbows and hauled me off the twitching corpse. I spat a mouthful of leathery dead flesh, lunging against her grip - at Vash, as he helped to restrain me. The monk grunted as my razor-edged teeth struck his metal shoulder, the points striking off the aurum with a screech.

"NNAARGH!" I thrashed in Karalti's grip, until she headbutted me and shoved me back. I spilled to the floor, stunned from the blow by her small horns. My chest heaved like a bellows as I looked up at her, licking blood - my own - from my upper lip.

"So that's what a vampire frenzy looks like, huh?" Karalti planted one hand on her hip, the other clutching a poultice of some kind to her wounded side. “When did you last munch on Suri?”

“Uhh… ” I tried to reply and sort of just… spittled everywhere. Talking with a mouth full of fangs is a lot harder than it looks. “Uhn, blood? I ‘unno.”

“You tried to tear my throat out, you little rotzloffel!” Vash scowled, examining the fine scratches on his shoulder.

“Sorreh.” I shrugged sheepishly, and looked to Karalti worriedly. “You uh-right?”

“Eh? Oh, yeah. Just a cut. You guys are more in danger than I am. Mana blood and all.”Karalti lifted the poultice, only to slap it back when more brilliant blue blood oozed forth.

"Aye. Pretty sure I just grew in a tumor just sniffing it," Vash remarked. He'd taken his pipe out to get a final toke before we headed in.

The corpse nearest me wisped away into nothingness, leaving a small loot bag behind. The sheer surrealism of this little leather bag just appearing out of nowhere snapped me out of adrenaline high. My teeth and nails shrunk back, leaving me feeling tired - and thirsty. Not for water. Swallowing with a dry throat, I leaned over and grabbed the bag. As I did, the contents leaped up in a small holographic window:

· Palace Tunnel Key x 1

· Draugr Teeth

Draugr Teeth

An alchemical component. Great for binding potions and weird museum collections.

"Oh... a key," I said weakly. "And teeth. Just what I always wanted."

Ebisa offered me a hand up. I accepted it, feeling shaky and weak after the frenzy, and got to my feet. Then I pulled one of the healing potions I’d brewed at the fort, and offered it to Karalti. “Here. This should tide you over. Let me look at it properly when we're done?" I asked her.

"When we're done." Karalti popped the cork off, swigged the brilliant green potion, then made a face. "Bleh. Moss… gross. Anyway, we have to get Ignas out first. And now you're fatigued."

"Yeah. Because I'm blood-starved." I sighed. “I’m sorry, guys. I forgot to ask Suri before all the damn Voidwyrm Empress shit.”

Karalti chirped in her throat. "Why not ask Vash?”

Vash arched a brow.

"Yeah… no offense, Vash, but no." I rubbed the back of my neck. "It's weird enough taking blood from you and Suri for all these potions and feedings and shit, alright?"

"Doesn’t seem weird to me. Predators gotta eat." Karalti yawned and stretched, wincing a little as she pulled her wounded flank. "Oww."

“Hector, I know organics have needs, but every minute we spend here is a minute our liege is being tortured,” Ebisa said, her voice somehow both flat and harsh.

“I know.” I glared at her, gave Karalti a reassuring bump of my mouth against her brow, and went to unlock the door. The lock was stiff but functional, and the door swung inward to a rough-cut tunnel. There were no lights.

"Onward and upward," I sighed, taking a torch from my inventory. "I'll take point, this time."