Chapter Ten / Battle of the Forty-Ninth Floor - Part One

 Ezbalath wiped and flicked a droplet of sweat from his brow, then hoisted the barrel up and onto the back of the carriage. He then took a long drawn-out breath and exhaled, placing his hands on hips.

“You could have asked me to have the skeletons load those.” Gelicarus said watching from the front seat of the carriage.

Ezbalath smiled. “I just wanted to load them myself, it’s the first batch after all.” Ezbalath said, then mounted the carriage and sat next to Gelicarus. “We shouldn’t keep his lordship waiting.”

Gelicarus nodded. “Legion, forward!” He shouted and the ten-thousand strong legion of skeletons marched with boney rhythm down the hallway.

Ezbalath had managed to arm every one of the skeletons with at least a basic spear and shield; his muscles did not thank him. He did, however, also manage to make some additional pieces. Ezbalath watched with curiosity at the four skeletons armored from head to toe in sleeking iron. Their skeleton joints were still exposed, but the torso, arms, legs, and head of the skeletons covered.

“So, what makes these more special than the others?” Ezbalath said, motioning towards the armored skeletons.

“They’re called Dark Skeletons. They are the unofficial commanders of the legion, they react to situations in battle faster, and they’re stronger than the rest.” Gelicarus said.

“Dark Skeletons?” Ezbalath questioned.

“They have the Dark Lord’s blessing.” Gelicarus answered.

Ezbalath eyed one of the skeletons again and noticed the black ligaments running along the skeleton’s exposed joints. “I see.”

“Honestly, I thought you would be more afraid of them.” Gelicarus said.

“Not my first encounter with the undead. They were present in some of the other dungeons. They were a sort of, as we liked to call them, beginner guard. They were only a threat to the untrained.” The wagon lightly rocked over the cobble stone floor, before Ezbalath continued: “I’m surprised his lordship settled for skeletons.”

“Conjuring an army from nothing is not a simple feat. He used what we had at our disposal, and they are stronger than they seem.” Gelicarus said without missing a beat.

“Okay, okay.” Ezbalath chuckled. “Well, no one was able to conjure something from materials like that, especially not at this scale, in my time. It’s supposed to be impossible.”

They were quiet for a moment, the skeletons marching the only sound between them.

“He did also bring you back to life.” Gelicarus said.

Another tenure of silence fell between them, as Ezbalath wracked the statement through his mind. He analyzed what Gelicarus had said, still trying to get a feeling for him, and concluded it was not said to be dismissive. Perhaps, another reason was hidden in his words.

Gelicarus said nothing else, which prompted Ezbalath to come to another conclusion.

“He’s skeptical,” Ezbalath said looking at Gelicarus, “of humans?”

Gelicarus sighed and rummaged through his satchel – taking out two red apples. He handed one to Ezbalath and took a bite out of the one in his hand. Ezbalath took a bite out of the other, its sweet juices enough of a delight to almost bring him to tears.

“I don’t blame him.” Ezbalath said partaking in the apple. “Humans caused all of this. My people paid the ultimate price. He has reason to doubt us.”

Gelicarus took another bite of his apple. “I can’t speak for his lordship, but he has shown interest in other humans. Not just yourself.” Gelicarus said.

“Well, I hope I’m leaving a good impression then. He can’t trust everyone, and that’s okay. There were innocents, however, a lot of them, who weren’t involved in what happened. I think they deserve a chance.” Ezbalath said.

“It’s not me you have to convince.” Gelicarus said.

Ezbalath sighed and continued to eat the apple. He finished a moment later, unsure of what to do with the core. Gelicarus reached out a hand, and Ezbalath placed in his palm. Gelicarus then placed the core in his satchel, along with the one he finished.

“That was delicious. It’s been so long since I’ve had one of those. Thank you, Gelicarus.” Ezbalath said patting his stomach.

“You’re quite welcome. We have few of those, so enjoy them while they last.” Gelicarus said.

Ezbalath smiled and looked at Gelicarus. His short black hair was pulled back into a small knot on the back of his head, allowing Ezbalath to take a good look at his face. His features fair, almost doll like, porcelain skin that seemed unageing. There was tugging, however, at the corners of Gelicarus’s eyes that suggested age and some sleepless nights. His green and greyish eyes scanned the way forward, before looking and meeting with Ezbalath’s gaze.

“What?” Gelicarus asked.

“Sorry, I’m just,” Ezbalath tried to find the words, “wondering what your stake is in all of this.”

“I serve the Dark Lord.” Gelicarus said.

“Yes, but why?” Ezbalath asked.

Gelicarus was quiet, letting the minutes pass by for some time.

“Sorry, you don’t have to say if you don’t want to.” Ezbalath said, shifting his gaze back towards the front of the carriage.

“He saved me.” Gelicarus finally said. “I’m just returning the favor.”

Ezbalath looked back at Gelicarus and smiled. “Then we have something in common.”

Gelicarus returned the smile. “Yeah, I guess we do.”

 

 

The legion passed through the gateway leading to the next floor, the shimmering flowing over them as they crossed the threshold.

“Legion, halt!” Gelicarus shouted and the Skeletons stopped their march.

A good half of the legion was still in the hallway separating the floors, but Gelicarus stood in the seat of the carriage.

“Quiet. Really quiet.” Ezbalath commented, scanning the area around them. “Smells terrible too.”

Gelicarus looked out over the fields of flesh, the pungent smell greeting them. The road in front of them, however, seemed out of place. As if it had been carved out of the flesh.

“He left us a trail. We should follow it.” Gelicarus said sitting back down on the seat.

“What, the road?” Ezbalath asked, eyeing the highway. “It does seem out of place.”

“His lordship influences the landscape. If this flesh isn’t a part of his domain, then the two conflict and you get this trail.” Gelicarus said.

“Incredible, he just walked through the area, and everything changed.” Ezbalath said.

A light breeze swept its way around them, before picking up, and then becoming a breeze once more. It repeated this pattern as a pulse. Ezbalath shifted in his seat, his ears feeling a strange and unseen change in the pressure of the air. Like wanting to “pop” his ears, yet the pressure continued to build. Ezbalath’s eyes squinted, taking notice of something else. In the darkness of the plains of flesh, the air ever so slightly changed in color. Red. Particles fluttered in the pulsing breeze.

“Blood.” Ezbalath commented. “A lot of it. We’re late.”

“Legions, forward! Double time!” Gelicarus shouted.

Ezbalath held onto the seat, as the carriage jolted with the Skeletons suddenly taking a quick stride. The carriage bumped over every displaced piece of stone. With the command to hurry, the Skeletons made as quick of an effort forward – though not capable of running, they could come close. Gelicarus kept his eyes on the horizon, and Ezbalath fervently looked behind them over his shoulder at the barrels. The barrels shifted slightly but were heavy enough to keep themselves in place.

Sounds crawled out from beyond the red of the distant flesh fields. The groans, the screams, and screeches became louder and louder, the rhythm of the shaking skeleton bones becoming quiet against them. An unintelligible chorus, loud enough to replace the pressure in Ezbalath’s ears. Yet the further they went, the more the chorus became a background for the pressure. The pressure pulsed in his ears, and in the air. He felt his shoulders tug with every beat, as if his body was reacting to a sudden feeling. Ezbalath tried to control the reaction, but it grew harder to attempt as they traveled closer to the source.

The ground shook violently, threatening to split itself beneath the carriage and column of skeletons, and continued to shake in bursts. Between the bursts the pounding pressure would return to Ezbalath’s ears. The pulses, the mixture of the air pressure, and the howls in the distance hammered his head, making it feel as if it was ready to burst. He screamed, yet heard no sound escape his own mouth, and wished for the pulsing to cease – his mind slipping away into agony. Yet, his eyes returned to the barrels in the back of the carriage, which focused his attention on where he was and their mission. It was the only thing holding him together.

Gelicarus shook Ezbalath’s shoulder and pointed towards the front of the carriage. In the bleak and black horizon, a red cloud formed in the sky above. Droplets fell from the sky and continued until it became a steady stream, thudding against Ezbalath’s body. Ezbalath looked at his hands, covered in red.

“The sky is bleeding.” Ezbalath said in silence, his voice neither shaking nor quivering at the statement.

Ahead, and behind the rain – figures appeared beyond. Gelicarus looked ahead and saw a large ditch between them and the gathering figures, then leaned forward in the carriage. Ezbalath watched as Gelicarus’s lips moved and spoke to one of the Dark Skeletons pulling their carriage. The Legion halted, the ground still shaking, and the Dark Skeletons moved from out in front of the carriage. Their boney mouths moved, and the Legion marched forward. Skeletons moved to the back of the carriage and removed the barrels, taking them with the Legion.

Gelicarus again shook Ezbalath’s shoulder, shaking him from his daze and constant battering of his senses, and got down from the seat. Ezbalath got down as well, taking a longsword from under the seat, and followed Gelicarus on the highway, mixing with the marching skeleton Legion. Ezbalath could barely keep his feet steady as they walked, the shaking curling the ground beneath. Yet as they traveled, the shaking grew less frequent, and the blood rain began clearing. The thumping pressure in Ezbalath’s ears, however, only grew worse.

As they neared the ditch – the figures became clearer, and the clearer the situation became, the more horrified Ezbalath was. The figures were humans, or at least humanoid in shape, with arms, legs, and heads, but in none of the right places. Their flesh was leather and as if it was stapled to the body structure beneath. The creatures had eyes, but Ezbalath could hardly look at them long enough to see their colors – little of him wished to inspect the creatures further. Their features were the least of his worries. Their quantity, beyond a glancing account, was at least in the millions, as they gathered on the opposite side of the long ditch as far as he could see.

The Legion marched and took position along the ditch opposite of the horde of creatures, their shields stacking and becoming a wall; spears glinting in red. Gelicarus followed the Legion to the embankment, and a pocket of the shield wall was cleared for him to look at the opposite side. Ezbalath joined Gelicarus’s side, and the rhythmic pulses ceased in his ears. Instead, it took hold of his body again. Everything that held Ezbalath in that moment wished for him to run, yet his legs wouldn’t move.

A heart large enough to eclipse and cast a shadow upon the gathering horde of creatures and the skeleton Legion, pulsed beyond. Dread took hold of Ezbalath’s body, his eyes fixed upon the heart. He could not look away from it, his body rejecting his commands. Then a hand placed itself on Ezbalath’s left shoulder, and Gelicarus came into view.

Gelicarus’s hair and features were stuck with drying blood, his green eyes like beacons against the red and black of the scenery. He pointed towards the heart, and Ezbalath followed his gesture. In the foreground of the heart, and with each tremor in the ground, blood shot into the sky, along with sparks that flashed orange against the red. Ezbalath could just barely make out two figures clashing, but only because one of the figures would ascend into the sky and descend rapidly.

Gelicarus placed himself in front of Ezbalath’s vision again and mouthed the word: “Distract.” The two then turned around, and faced the rest of the Legion that opened the barrels. They removed shorter spears in large bundles, the iron metal tip shaped with small wings. Although they were unable to make bows, Ezbalath had opted for the alternative which he could make: Javelins. They were lighter spears and could be thrown at a distance.

The skeleton javelin throwers lined themselves behind the spear wall and awaited orders. The Dark Skeletons positioned themselves across the battle line, ordering five sections of the line under their individual command. They moved, however, with an organized confidence – despite being unable to speak. Appearing to able to communicate without it. Ezbalath watched then as the skeleton javelin throwers pulled the javelins in their hands back, and in the next moment watced as they threw the javelins. The javelins cleared the river ditch and struck through the backs of an entire line of creatures, some even piercing through several creatures and never striking the ground. Ezbalath expected another volley of javelins to descend, but the javelin throwers idled.

The creatures who were closest to the embankment turned, and saw the legion across the river ditch, then their screams directed towards them. Like a flood, the creatures threw themselves into the ditch, over top one another in a mad rush towards the Legion’s line. Within moments the river ditch was full of creatures. Gelicarus directed Ezbalath away from the line, and the viewing portal was again filled with skeletons. Using the embankment to their advantage, the Skeleton spears struck down at the creatures climbing up. Blood soaked the embankment, and bodies began to fill the ditch.

The Legion’s initial advantage, however, quickly began to disappear. The ditch filled with dead and living creatures, bridging the gap between the embankments, and allowing a more direct line. The creatures were far too many. The Legion’s line, however, quickly pulled away its flanks, the Dark Skeletons walking the lines, and formed into a square. The javelin throwers began throwing at will, their spears descending and piercing into any creature in sight.

The battle became a perpetual blood bath on the fields of flesh. Blood seeped through and below the feet of the skeletons, their shields and spears red, and boney features sprayed with stray blood. The number of creatures, however, did not appear to dwindle – even while their bodies became barricades before the skeleton lines. The javelin throwers became more selective in their throws as the number of javelins dwindled. Ezbalath gripped the sword in his hand tightly, wishing he had made more.

Gelicarus kept a close eye on Ezbalath, ensuring they were always near each other. Ezbalath watched every moment of the battle with a fervent and disheveled gaze – the blood rain crusting on his hair. He had fought battles before, with groups of adventurers who would delve into the dungeons. This, however, was war.

Out from beyond the skeleton lines, came a roar that echoed against the thumps of the heart. Its high-pitched screams pierced Ezbalath’s ears and forced him to the ground. Gelicarus helped Ezbalath to his feet with enough time to see the source. Crashing through the west side of the skeleton line, came a great creature with eight legs, and as many heads and arms as it could possibly hold on its large torso. It towered over the skeletons, Ezbalath’s shaking mind calculating its height to be somewhere around twelve to fifteen feet tall. Yet, it was not alone. Several of these behemoths crashed through the lines, smashing the skeletons in their way to dust.

With a swift response, the five commanders themselves immediately set upon the behemoths. They selected one target at a time, with two commanders taking up spears to spear away at the behemoth to distract it, while the other three chopped and struck their way through flesh. The skeleton lines that were broken, began to flood with bodies, however, the skeletons reinforced a bend in their line to slowly force the masses back once again. Their losses, however, began to mount – their lines thinning.

One of the behemoths peeled away from the fight with the commanders and screamed towards Ezbalath and Gelicarus. Two frontal arms of the creature, brutal in mass, pounced forward and propelled the creature off the ground. It landed in front of the pair. Ezbalath was paralyzed with fear, the behemoth’s leather skin in front of him saturated with blood. Its two heads screamed, and its eyes darted in frenzy. It lifted its left arm and swung at Ezbalath with its back hand. Ezbalath felt a sudden push from his right side, and he was thrown to the ground. He was unharmed, but watched with horror as Gelicarus was sent flying through the air and thudding to the ground. Gelicarus didn’t stir.

Rage filled Ezbalath’s lungs, his body tensing against the thumps but uncaring in its impact. He charged forward and dodged another swing of the behemoth’s right arm. With both hands on the hilt of the sword, he swung down at the behemoth’s right arm – the sword slashed a gap in the arm, but it stuck to the wound. Ezbalalth felt the air in his lungs escape as the other arm of the behemoth landed squarely against his mid-section, hurtling him some feet away and landing on his stomach. He gasped for air, his face wet against the flesh beneath. He choked on saliva, his eyes just barely able to make out the behemoth moving towards him. Rage again focused his body and mind. Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself from the ground and charged at the behemoth. It swung at him with its left arm, and Ezbalath slid beneath it. He took hold of the sword in its right arm and ripped it from the flesh, then swung at its legs. The arms on the behemoth’s back were smaller and unable to reach Ezbalath, their fingers grasping at the air, and he was able to cut through the flesh of several legs.

The behemoth swiveled on the remaining legs, and before it could strike Ezbalath again, a spear pierced the left arm and halted its movement. Then another spear pierced the other arm. The Dark Skeletons halted the behemoth’s movements, and with swift coordinated movement, another of the Dark Skeletons mounted the behemoth’s back, where it cut through the arms and then pierced through the heads of the creature. Blood spilled from its mouths and body. It rocked slightly before crashing to the ground in a pool of blood.

Ezbalath immediately ran around the behemoth toward the direction of Gelicarus. To his surprise, Gelicarus stood watching, unharmed. Ezbalath put both his hands on Gelicarus’s shoulders and shook, his chest heaving with stress. Gelicarus smiled, caked in blood, and patted his right arm. As the two separated, a gust of wind slammed against them from their left and forced both Ezbalath and Gelicarus to take a knee while shielding themselves with their arms. The air cut sharply against Ezbalath’s face, threatening to push him further away, then suddenly completely dissipated. Sparks flew in the air, and the sudden gust of wind returned. The ground shook ferociously as something fell from the sky and crashed. Blood splayed itself in the air, and then with the gust of wind, drove itself in different directions.

Ezbalath took the moments between gusts to look at the clash occurring in the middle of the Legion’s formation.

Arn lifted himself off the ground, steam heavily sizzling off his body as the blood was disintegrated from his clothes. The winged creature stabbed towards him with its boney halberd, the tip just barely grazing Arn’s right arm and tearing away the cloth. The graze drew blood, but Arn hardly noticed the stinging. He breathed heavily beneath the mask; he had been fighting the winged creature for hours. Yet, the creature appeared no more fatigued than when they had started, and it was getting faster and stronger.

Arn glanced at the heart pulsing in the background, its red hues subtly changing into a brighter violet. The two may be linked. Arn thought to himself, before returning his gaze to the winged creature. Just as he glanced back to the creature, the halberd was already mid-air slashing from his right side. Arn barely dodged the attack, spinning with its movement, and kicked the creature with his momentum. The force of the kick sent the creature into the air and across the river ditch, back to their original fighting area.

Arn flexed the muscles in his legs and thought to himself: Jump. He was in the air the next moment and then fell across the ditch and plummeted towards the horde of creatures. Making an x shape with his sword in the air, Arn cleared the landing area in a plume of blood, and then landed with a crash. Moments before landing Arn thought to himself: Landing, and his body was spared any damage from the impact. The ground shook, and a blast wave from the landing forced away the surrounding creatures, which created a buffer for Arn to prepare himself.

Out of the dust and blood, creatures descended on Arn from all sides. Just before the creatures could reach him, Arn took up his sword in both hands, then stabbed the ground. Impact. The creatures in the surrounding area were completely smothered into a cloud of blood, as if gravity itself had increased in the area, and the shock wave from the attack sent itself outwards killing thousands before stopping at the embankment of the river.

As the cloud of blood cleared, the winged creature dove at Arn. It struck Arn with the spear end of the Halberd, and Arn just barely deflected the attack with the flat side of his longsword. Utilizing the opportunity, in the same stride as deflecting the attack, Arn retrieved his sword from the ground and struck downwards at the winged creature. The creature responded, however, by using its wings to change its trajectory backwards only slightly to avoid the strike. Having dodged the attack, the winged creature’s tail snatched Arn’s sword mid swing and the two grappled for a moment. Arn then grabbed onto the bone halberd, just beneath the axe, and kicked the creature in the chest. The winged creature’s tail, however, kept a tight grip on his sword and the resulting force of Arn’s kick sent them both flying. With the creature on its back, flying over the ground, Arn kept his grip on the sword to keep up with the momentum for this moment. With both legs, Arn kicked downwards, Impact, and slammed the winged creature into the ground. The blow smashed the ground and sent ripples that further upheaved the surrounding area. Arn lifted his free left hand and struck down at the creature’s featureless face. The blow cracked the area, and again Arn struck. Arn struck again, and again, and again. The winged creature, however, never let the sword go.

Blood seeped from the creature’s breaking face; its blue iris eye fixed on him. Even without a face capable of expression, Arn stared back and felt it – its pleading, his hand dripping with blood.

“Who are you?” Arn asked between breaths.

Arn felt a tremor in the air from behind him. The heart pulsed without rhythm, slowly and quickly, and its red hues changed into an ultraviolet which illuminated the inside of the flesh. For a moment, Arn could make out a shadow beneath the flesh before suddenly the light extinguished completely. Just as suddenly as the light vanished, the ultraviolet returned and the heart began to peel. Blood sprayed as the flesh parted and layered itself into flaps of flesh, the blood leaking off the flesh flaps into pools.

“A flower.” Arn said aloud, his long breaths still heaving oxygen into his lungs.

The heart transformed into a blooming flower made of flesh, the bright ultraviolet illuminating the area around it. The creatures around Arn began to move, and Arn began to stand. Just as he lifted himself from the winged creature, however, it let go of his sword and shot out from under him. The winged creature flew into the sky and hovered near the heart.

Arn stood completely, tightly squeezing the hilt of his sword, and prepared himself for an attack. The hordes of creatures gathered around him, and their screams ceased completely. The only sound attacking Arn was the irregular thumps of the heart. With silent grotesque faces, the creatures walked by Arn, to his surprise, and towards the heart. They raised their arms, however many they had, and knelt in the shadow of the heart. Their voices echoed like wails crying out in a language of no dialect.

Arn watched as the thumps slowed further, and further – the ultraviolet light becoming just a small beacon inside the flesh. Arn felt the air shift, a moment of feeling that Arn could only ever describe as feeling the world move. In its change, Arn felt as if he could move out of his own body, a moment of disembodiment. A memory surfaces beneath his conscious mind, a scene like this one of a time long since forgotten. Of a moment of darkness and wails, then of quiet. When the arms slip away.

On reflex, Arn stepped backwards, and out of the ground a tendril of flesh snapped at him. Arn sliced the tendril at ground level, and it slinked away into the darkness of the flesh. Arn looked around himself, and the field of flesh met him. He was alone. A hazy red mist lingered in the air, and an occasional visceral crunch were all that remained. Looking back, Arn could see what was left of the Legion, having completely avoided the tendrils.

A white light suddenly burst out from behind Arn, the heart peeling away its petals, engorged on blood. The white plumed outwards scattering along the sky and ceiling, then a huge beam of light originating from the heart shot upwards against the ceiling. A figure emerged from the flesh of the heart, its being dark against the light.