CITY OF BRIDGES

16

Marsh of the Undead

Cautiously crossing a dilapidated bridge, the trio made their way east. In his ‘rolling’ mode, Styx trundled alongside Leonie and Feiron without difficulty. The forest quickly thinned out and within the hour they entered the swamp.

“You don’t talk much.” Leonie broke the silence.

I do not talk at all, but I am quite adept at communicating.

She rolled her eyes at Feiron. “Have you had much contact with… non-hroltahgs?”

A little. I find you all… curious.

“Well, you are the first rollo we’ve met.”

I know this. Dorn communicated all with me.

“How does telepathy work?” she asked. “If I’m not telepathic, how can I… hear you?”

When you speak, I hear you, but my reply is done mentally. For mundanes – non-telepaths – I need to put the thought into your mind. When you think of something, I, as a telepath, can read those surface thoughts. If you were telepathic, you would be able to read mine freely as well and send your thoughts to me. The illios it seems, cannot receive our thoughts, as we cannot detect their thought patterns.

“Can anyone become a telepath?”

If not a natural trait, gaining the ability is extremely unlikely, but do not despair. I am sure you and your friend have very good talents in other areas.

“I’m a thief. I make my living by taking from others,” she said matter-of-factly.

You utilise the skills you have: good balance, nocturnal vision, keen smell, taste, hearing, as well as the eyesight, lightning reflexes, and a limited ability to utilise power. Your mixed origins have caused you hardship, but this has also given some great advantages; you have everything you require to do what you do. I would not complain about any of that. You would be quite formidable if you had psionics too. I might add, for a thief, you appear to have good awareness of morality.

“You sure know what to say to please a girl. What can you tell us about yourself and your kind?”

My race is totally psionic and able to detect features of the local terrain by the reverberation of sound waves. Some of us have ability to register when the power is being used, but we all have the ability to utilise the physical senses of those creatures around us. It is very difficult to sneak up on us, any creature with a mind can be detected.

“You mean you can see through my eyes?”

Yours, or that eagle overhead; the lizard under those shrubs; or the fish in the water. Styx transferred these animal sensations to Leonie.

One moment she was soaring high above the ground, viewing the land below with a clarity putting hers to shame; a cool, tingling sensation crossed her body when the wind ruffled feathers. The vision changed; she was now staring intently between grass shoots and pebbles – it was very disconcerting as each eye had a different view; then sudden murkiness enveloped her, and she felt the different water pressure as she swam through the river. It was almost too much. She gasped in wonder at it all, almost losing her balance. Her head reeled at the swiftly changing perspectives.

Feiron looked to the rollo. “Is everything alright?” he asked Leonie.

Leonie, carried away with the conversation, had neglected to keep him in the picture. She remedied that quickly.

Styx continued. My skin is tougher than iron yet as pliable as leather, movement is normally by rolling, but we can also jump. He unfolded himself and leapt into the air, landing with a thump about ten paces down the road, leaving a sizeable dent where he landed. I forgot about that.

Styx waited until they caught up. We are extremely heavy for our size too. I weigh about six hundred pounds. I have talons on my hands and feet that are more resilient and sharper than any dagger.

“I see modesty doesn’t become you.”

Modesty does not come into it when communicating mind to mind. We cannot lie. That is probably our biggest weakness.

“Is that all?”

We live about a thousand years. I am a mere fifty years old.

“I suppose you can do magic?”

No, though we can persuade others to utilise the power on our behalf.

“No offence, but I think I know why Zander banned your kind from Delta. I doubt he’d be in such control otherwise. Where’s your mouth and nose?”

Non-existent. We have no need.

“So how do you eat or smell?”

Osmosis.

“I reckon he’s being rude,” she said to Feiron.

Styx explained. We absorb any required nutrition, whether it is food, fluid or gas, through our skin, like your friend does.

“We illios eat the same way?” Feiron responded after Leonie’s update. “Something in common at last.”

She grinned. “I’d think nothing could stop hroltahgs if you wanted to do something. Why are you pacifists?”

We believe violence is a result of anger. Anger clouds judgement. A clear mind, one that can see all aspects of a situation, is more likely to come to a more logical, peaceful resolution. There have been stories of rogues, but they are extremely rare in our society and considered abominations. We can sense aggressive thoughts. We shut them out in fear the ‘madness’ might spread. One of us rogue is a bad thing. Several would be beyond terrible.

“So, you’d not raise a finger to save your own life?”

We only infiltrate minds to garner information. Self-defence is slightly different, but even then, our intent would not be to kill. It is hard for me to describe it to one who is not a telepath. We have a belief in a higher consciousness. Our bodies; whether covered in fur, scales or feathers; whether they be bone and sinew or translucent ectoplasm, are merely transitory shells. When our bodies die, our soul, spirit if you prefer, is released to join those already released. Some call it a universal consciousness; an all-pervading force. You have already encountered such an entity.

“We have?”

“Axorg, the elemental wyvern.” Feiron said after Leonie’s update.

Precisely, Styx continued, we evolved to utilise our abilities not so much for offence, but for protection. For survival.

“What’s the difference? You said no one could touch you.”

True, but I do not refer to danger from people – I have not been in a dire situation in my entire life – I meant protection from our natural environment.

Leonie looked about. “Okay, I know we had a lot of rain and storms lately, but nothing that bad.”

Not this environment.

“Is Reenat so much worse?”

Not Reenat either.

“I thought you said you were from Reenat.” Her tail lashed in exasperation.

Do you think you are ready to hear this?

She sighed. “You’d know.”

There was a pause before Styx replied. We are not from this world.

She frowned as her mind went back to an earlier discussion with Feiron. “What world are you talking about?” she asked, eventually.

My race’s home world. I have not been there myself, so lack the imagery to show you. There really is no one word to name it in your languages. I can only describe it in words from your own mind; hot, steaming land of acrid air, volcanoes, vertical rock strata and very strong winds, with two suns and four moons. The vegetation can kill. That is the kind of world where my kind originated.

“Sounds ghastly. I can understand why you left. Where is it and how did you get here?”

We do not know its whereabouts. We came into this world via a portal – like every other race. None of the constellations here are familiar to us.

Feiron listened as Leonie continued to relay the conversation. “You see. Other worlds, like I said. Four moons and two suns though would be fascinating.”

“Can you go back through this ‘portal’, whatever that is?” Leonie asked.

It is a doorway, harnessing powerful forces to connect different places, and no, we do not know yet how to return.

“Why not? Where is this portal? When will you be able to return?”

It is believed the portal – or portals, since we have many races here and therefore as many home worlds – were destroyed in the area now known as the Vale of Dromas during the powershaper wars. As to returning, that remains to be seen. We wait. Some think the book may contain an answer for us.

“Last week life was far less complicated,” she sighed.

Some say ‘ignorance is bliss’.

“Hmmph.” She reached into her pack for food. “What do you say?”

The more you know, the more you realise how little you know.

Her face screwed up in a frown. “That’s not helpful.” She bit savagely into a slice of smoked meat she’d pulled out of the backpack. “I get the impression life’s going to get more difficult?”

There is that possibility. Would you have chosen to stay in Delta, knowing what is happening now?

“Nope,” she finally answered. “I suppose I’m too curious. I like to have my claw on the pulse.” Too many new concepts had entered her previously simple life and would take a while for it all to sink in.

The slimy, dirty slum of Delta was her world. After listening to stories of travellers and bards, she knew the continent was far larger, and that there were lands, each with dozens of cities far larger than Delta, across the sea. This talk of other worlds was not something occurring to her in her daily activities. Now Styx calmly told her he was from one of them. Did that mean she was from another world? And Feiron?

Your ancestors would have been. But you are very different. Your unusual origins make you unique.

“How do you mean?” The tip of her tail twitched in anticipation. “There are plenty half-castes in Delta.”

Not quite like you. There was another pause before Styx answered. I promise to explain all in due course, but now is not the best time.

Leonie updated Feiron, noting the air had steadily become stale. The trail they were on meandered to the east, hemmed in both sides by stunted trees and masses of reeds.

“I have a question,” Feiron said. “The codex we carry is very heavy. Do you know what it is made of?”

Essentially, the tome is made of… us, Styx replied.

“Made of hroltahgs?” Leonie blurted, translating for her friend.

“What? Like leather – from skin?” Feiron asked, puzzled.

Our bodies are very efficient at utilising energy, so it does not happen often, but now and then, we shed waste. Even for us it is considered a normal bodily function. I believe illios aren’t so different? Your kind, however, does it far more often, depending on what and how much you consume and your body’s ability to digest. Quite by chance one of your academics discovered its unusual properties and found ways to utilise— Styx stopped as Leonie burst out laughing. Her tail flicked back and forth, her whiskers twitched wildly as an image formed in her mind.

“What’s wrong?” Feiron asked, confused when Leonie fell against him in a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

Did I say something humorous? The discovery was quite providential.

“I’m sure it was,” she tried to control her chuckles.

“It’s made of what?” Feiron exclaimed when Leonie was finally able to explain the origins of the book. “And to think, I had it inside me. I am not feeling well.”

“You do look greener than grey.” She slapped him on the back.

“How much longer before we get to White Cliffs?” she asked. It was mid-morning, and the day was showing signs of warming up. “What can you tell us about the road ahead?” Leonie could hear the buzz of insects, but not one bothered her, which was fortunate as the repellent was left in Swangrove.

Lots, but it is as you see it; encroaching flora and fetid waters. We are almost through, about a league to go… and the insects are deterred by the ‘output’ of my psionics. It upsets them.

She sighed with relief and relayed this information to Feiron, who was attempting to form a human hand. They continued for a short distance. Her nose wrinkled in revulsion. “Something reeks around here!”

“It wasn’t me this time.” Feiron tried to look innocent.

I sense decay.

“Perhaps there’s a carcass nearby?” Feiron suggested.

“The breeze is coming from over there.” She pointed to her left.

I have just monitored the immediate vicinity. We have company.

“Now you tell us! The Brotherhood or the Jart’lekk?”

Neither. A bear and a small pack of wolves.

“Why couldn’t you detect them before?”

I only sense the minds of living entities.

“This’s no time for riddles,” Leonie gasped. Styx sent her clear images of several animals bounding through the wild underbrush. The wolves were skeletal, the fur tattered or missing, exposing bone and decayed flesh beneath. Bringing up the rear was a huge bear – a shambling mound of muscle, teeth and claws.

“I don’t understand? You said they were dead,” Leonie accused.

Yes, that is correct. I understand your confusion. The animals have been re-animated.

“Are they being controlled?”

Without a doubt, but not mentally, otherwise I would have detected them long before this.

“Then how?”

Power use, I suspect, from our friends of Opsyss.

“Necromancy?” she growled.

In a fashion.

“How do we stop them?”

Severing the head should immobilise them; incinerating the bodies is the surest way, or wait until the spell fades, though I suspect they will catch us long before that occurrence.

“You’re full of laughs.” She started jogging. Her companions kept pace.

They soon left the sparse covering of moss-covered trees. Leonie took the opportunity to look at the terrain ahead. The path rose slightly. Murky water, bordered by masses of reeds could be seen. In the far distance, she spotted tree-covered hills.

The creatures are getting closer.

“How’re you holding out?” she gasped to Feiron.

“I’m fine.” Feiron snatched a look behind. “But we should do something about those beasts.”

“You think?” The sound of the wolves bounding through the undergrowth could be heard clearly. “Styx. How’s the mind of undead work?”

It does not, but the Death Sect obviously has a way around that little problem. They will obey certain spells.

“Then they’ll not be thinking as wild animals?”

I would imagine not.

“Would it be like possession?”

Uncertain.

“Hss.” Leonie considered quickly. “Are there any other animals around?”

I detect nothing close other than insects, fish and eels in the water. There are firedrakes off to our right.

Feiron noticed a small island a short distance away with an old swamp-oak at its centre, with leafless branches clawing skyward. “Can we make it to that?”

The water is not too deep. Styx said after a pause.

“But the path goes that way.” Leonie pointed, reluctant to enter the putrid waters.

“Yes, but if we stay on the road,” the illios argued, “they’ll catch up to us in no time. When we reach the island, we should at least have an advantage on the higher ground.”

“Then what?” she called as the Feiron turned towards the water.

“With luck we’ll be able to beat them off while they flounder in the mud.”

“How deep is this?” she asked, studying the swamp in front of her with distaste.

No higher than your waist.

Leonie growled. “Would the water weaken control?”

We shall find out presently.

Feiron pushed his way through the reeds, appearing far less stressed as he splashed into the water.

Leonie hesitated on the muddy bank. “I really don’t like water.”

It will be alright. Styx soothed, realising her surface thoughts were in turmoil about the water.

Reluctantly she stepped into the stagnant water and pushed through the reeds, testing each step carefully. “I’ll stink for a week,” she hissed to no one in particular as the rank water soaked into her fur. A scowl crossed her face when her paws sank in the thick mud. She followed in the wake of the Feiron where the scum had been broken up, though bits of it clung to her tail.

The steep, muddy shoreline of the islet proved difficult to drag themselves out of the slippery mire.

“Here they come.” Feiron pointed past her shoulder.

The undead wolves burst through the reeds by the edge of the road and hit the water in a frenzy.

“Grab a branch or something,” Leonie called out as she struggled out of the marsh. Grabbing the nearest length of wood. “Aim for the heads and neck.”

To add to the confusion, a horde of firedrakes burst from a hollow in the nearby swamp-oak. Irate at the invasion of their territory, the leathery flying lizards attacked the animals in the water. Small bursts of fire issued from their tiny mouths.

Two wolves were almost to the shoreline, unhindered by smouldering fur. Leonie hastily stepped closer as the first wolf approached the bank, yellow teeth bared. She lifted her branch high and swung, grunting with the effort. The club hit its snout, crushing the jaw. Unperturbed, it continued to clamber up the muddy slope as she staggered backwards.

Feiron had more success. The blow caved in the creature’s skull. It squirmed for a moment before laying still. He yanked it free ready for the next one.

With a sound like a splitting melon, one of Leonie’s wild swings struck her wolf in the side of the head. “Got you,” she exclaimed in jubilation. The head lolled to one side, hanging on by sinew and rotten skin for a moment before it dropped. The jaws still gnashed at her. She kicked the head into the bog, avoiding the yellowed fangs while the body flopped around aimlessly.

As Leonie prowled back and forth waiting for the next wolf to appear, she chanced a look up at the colourful firedrakes, hoping they wouldn’t attack them. Something peculiar caught her attention. “Styx. That bird is hovering.” She jumped back when snapping jaws appeared through the reeds. She raised her branch for another swipe.

Styx concentrated, lightly probing the falcon. With part of his mind now on the ethereal astral plane, the bird’s aura appeared as a small, grey luminescence. The ‘landscape’ materialised in hazy ethereal shades. Every living thing has some form of energy; some brighter than others, some different hues and tones. He noticed a spider-web of threads emanating from the bird. These were being used to control the undead. A thicker, brown filament connected the bird to a distant mind in the south. He recognised it as Lothas’s assistant, Alen.

The rollo willed a mental barrier into existence; a translucent pearl-coloured sphere enveloped the bird’s aura severing the connection Alen needed for control. The spider-web filaments faded. The brown filament writhed like a whip, retreating south with haste.

Across the ethereal plane, a scream of pain and frustration echoed through the stillness. Sensing the threat had been neutralised, Styx followed the receding tendril to the south, allowing the mental barrier to disintegrate, and sent his mind to follow the thread.

Distance on the ethereal plane was insignificant. He followed the receding tendril to the south as a wave of pain and frustration washed across the stillness. In a matter of moments, he was looking upon the scene in the Temple of Opsyss. Below him, sprawled unconscious on the floor in a dark, round chamber lay a young robed man with a tattooed face and long dark hair. Blood dripped from his nose and ears. Several members of the order rushed into the room and began to give aid.

Styx withdrew his mind, returning to the swamp.

The falcon cartwheeled into the mire, but the other animals remained animated.

It would appear we still need to wait until the influence of the spell fully dissipates.

“Your powers of observation are amazing.”

Indeed.

Two wolves struggled onto the island, slower and not as focused as the previous pair. Leonie jumped to the nearest, the swing of her branch, knocking it into the path of the approaching bear. It caught the wolf in its massive paws and ripped it apart. The other wolf caught her eye. She dodged the creature’s jaws, but at the expense of losing her footing. Sprawled in the mud under its foaming jaws, she reacted quickly, shoving the branch into its face. It gripped the wood, the teeth biting deeply.

Slithering in the mud, Leonie used the branch to keep the jaws out of reach. It shook its head aggressively. Her arms jarred to the shoulder. With a final shake, the branch pulled free from her grasp and flew to the side.

Leonie scrambled backwards, whipping her tail from the snapping jaws. Her eyes widened in shock at what she saw next. The brown bear reared up. It stood half again as tall as the Leonie. The beast drove its claws into the back of the wolf. There was an audible crunch as the spine and ribcage of the wolf broke under the great weight. Huge claws tore the animal in two.

Rotten entrails spilled out onto Leonie’s legs.

“Slistorf’s balls!” For the merest second, Leonie hesitated before scuttling back in fear, dodging the bear’s claws. The air whistled with each swipe as it approached.

Stay back. Styx jumped in front of Leonie, splattering her with mud.

“Stay back he says?” she mumbled in a daze. “No problem.”

The bear battered the rollo, but the claws made no impression on him. Styx barely moved under the barrage. The bear tried to lift him off the ground, but failed. The assault slowed, then faltered as the beast slumped forward. The massive body collapsed on top of the rollo.

The marsh became silent, except for the firedrakes. They gathered in a small buzzing cloud, and then promptly arrowed back to their nest within the ancient bole.

“What happened?” Feiron slid out from under the rotting carcass of the last wolf which had managed to leap onto him before the spell faded. “Where’s Styx?”

Dazed, Leonie dragged herself to her feet and pointed to the bear’s body. “Under that.”

As they approached warily, the bear moved again. Leonie scrambled back over the dismembered wolves, heart racing. The fur on the back of the bear parted.

Styx emerged from the body, coagulated blood clinging to his body. That was uncomfortable. He was dripping in gore, but otherwise seemingly untouched. To answer Feiron’s earlier question, your Opsyss friends had reappeared.

Leonie turned away, gagging at the stench.

All were keen to leave the area, not only because of the attack, but because swarms of insects appeared around the foetid carcasses and there was no dry ground on which to camp. After a few moments the marsh gradually came back to life. Other animals would soon be drawn in by the reek of death.

Leonie was about to step into the brackish water, the distaste evident in her scowl, then she started floating over the surface.

“What the—” She looked around in alarm.

Perhaps I can be of assistance.

She needed a few deep breaths to calm herself. “You didn’t think to do this earlier?” Leonie growled.

When they located a safe, dry place to rest, Leonie vigorously brushed the scum out of her fur, fuming at Styx for letting her get this filthy, and initially decided not to talk to him.

“How did Lothas do it?” Feiron asked, oblivious to her frustration.

As Styx replied she reluctantly relayed the information, scowling as she found more muck on the back of her legs and tail.

It was his apprentice, Alen. I am unaware of the full capabilities of the Death Sect. Other than rudimentary telepathic abilities, he was able to gain control over these creatures through the worship of his god. Being closer would have provided a strong link.

“Will they be back?” he asked.

I doubt it, at least not before we get to Qelay. After that, who knows? At the moment his mind will need time to recover from the shock of the premature severing of his link.

“But I didn’t think you could be aggressive.” Feiron considered the bear.

It may be a technicality, but I merely blocked his mental projection. The animals were already dead, they could not be harmed further. I merely distracted the bear until the spell effects faded.

“You call that a mere distraction? I thought he was going to rip you apart.”

Remember, I am not of this world. My natural environment is potentially far more damaging than a bear.

“Well, thanks all the same,” Feiron performed a slight bow.

At your service.

They soon stopped in a small copse where a small stream fed into the swamp. Keen to get clean, Leonie stepped into it and scrubbed vigorously. “I’ll need to soak in a hot tub for a week to be rid of these smells.” Leonie muttered, noting how the slime had simply slid off her companions.

We are almost there. Shall we continue? Styx said after a few minutes.

The trail became a paved road hugging the banks of Lake Urmaq. Tilled fields became more prominent and by late-afternoon they came to the outskirts of Qelay, entering the city shortly after. Any town folk downwind screwed up their faces at the foul odour and moved away quickly.

This was the first city she had seen other than Delta. Leonie surveyed it with curiosity. Where the streets in her town were closed in, here the streets were broad, with trees lining the sides. Spread out evenly on each side, the flat-roofed, mud-brick buildings were daubed in earthy colours. Only a few had more than two levels, the rest were low and wide. Every one of them had flowering plants hanging from boxes underneath the windows. Their fragrance wafted all along the streets, but not quite enough to mask her odour.

“The only things green growing around the houses in Delta were weeds,” she muttered at the looks she was getting.

* * *