* * *
“We’ve got someone moving down here,” said Abraham Second-Sword. He and Murien had been tasked with dousing the flames at the building along the Tennerblane. He was among six Swords along the front side of the building, near the end of the line of people delivering buckets up from the river, and had been emptying the water over the still smoldering home. The fire had been quick and intense, devouring the old wood and leaving a blackened skeleton of beams behind, broken and collapsed. It was within the smoldering pile that Abraham saw an arm reaching up from the soot.
He dropped his bucket, grabbed Murien’s arm, and pointed down at the emerging hand. “Look, there. Do you see it?”
She peered in, squinting to see through the smoke, and then said excitedly, “Yes.”
The rest of the Swords called out, raising a panic among them as they realized there was a survivor. The wreck was still hot, but Abraham was ready to brave the fire to help the stranded. He had his foot in the skeletal remains of the front door when Murien pulled him back. The walls of the home had fallen away, affording them a view into the kitchen where they’d seen the hand, and the roof was already partially sunken in. Murien insisted it was too dangerous, and that whoever was in there was as good as dead already.
It was a different Sword who stated the obvious truth that Abraham hadn’t thought of, “It’s a zombie.”
The Swords froze and stared.
Whoever was stuck beneath the floor, reaching up through the broken floorboards, should’ve been dead already. The arm was scarred and blackened, the flesh bubbling from the heat. The fingers were mangled, revealing bone, yet still the arm was aimed directly at them, as if it wasn’t safety the wounded craved, but sustenance.
“You’re right,” said Abraham.
“There’s more of them,” said Murien, scanning the blackened mess. More of the arms were clawing forth, and then the silent faces began to peer up through the wreckage, their mouths open as if wishing to scream but unable to. Their faces were as badly burned as their arms, black and blistered, raw and shredded.
The Swords moved back, and the gathered crowd screamed out in terror as word spread about the discovery. Within seconds there were people in the crowd saying, “The Scholar! It’s The Scholar. He’s here.”
Abraham yelled out, “Get the Archers. We need Archers.”
The creatures were freeing themselves, willing to let their burned skin peel away as they pulled themselves up from the broken floor. The wooden slats ripped at the creatures, tearing bloodless gashes that they never felt. Some of them were nude, and others had masks over their mouths, as if they were undead bandits climbing forth to murder, pillage, and then devour New Carrington.
The crowd was panicked now, and word spread of the horrific discovery. Abraham and Murien drew their swords and watched as the dead rose from the ash. The two Swords backed away and watched as still burning embers clung to the flesh of their enemies, smoking as they ate at their hairless, blistered bodies.
Abraham shouted out, “Where are the Archers?” He didn’t want to engage these creatures in close combat.
“They’re on the wall,” said Murien. “They’re won’t get here in time.”
Abraham stood his ground on the walkway that separated the house from the river, and watched as his enemy climbed forth. One of the other Swords suggested that they set the house on fire again and let the creature’s burn, but there was no time for that. These monsters would be out of the wreckage in moments.
Murien judged her space, calmly readying herself for the battle by pushing her fellow Swords out of reach of her blade. Abraham saw her and realized that he should do the same. He looked to the man on his left and pointed so that he stepped another foot away, allowing them both enough room to fight effectively without worrying about striking a friend. A couple of the Swords ran, as frightened as the crowd around them, but Abraham wasn’t going to abandon his duty. He wiped each of his hands off one by one, and then gripped the hilt of his sword lightly, remembering the lessons about fluid movement and proper control.
“Here they come,” said Murien, taking command of the frightened group. “Ready. Fight!” She was the first to move in. Her left leg stepped forward as she swung high to low, catching her opponent in the shoulder and nearly severing the monster’s head. With a quick and masterful retreat, she simultaneously sliced her sword through the creature and thrust her shoulder into its chest, sending the nude and burned zombie falling back into the crumbled building.
Abraham wasn’t as skilled as Murien, and desperately hacked at the first zombie that made it to him. Luckily, the creature was maimed by the fire and barely mobile. It was crawling instead of walking, with its legs dragging uselessly behind. The monster was left a splatter of blood and brains on the walkway, and Abraham looked over at the man to his left to see his reaction, expecting appreciation. Instead, the Sword looked pale and sick, terrified. The man looked up at Abraham, and then turned to flee.
“Coward,” said Murien as she watched the Sword run. “Come on, Abe, keep focused.” She stabbed down at another crawling corpse, piercing the man’s head through his eye socket and silencing him. She stepped back, flicked the gore from her blade, and prepared for another kill.
Abraham was less certain of his skills, and watched as his sword shook in his unnerved grip. Murien launched herself forward, again expertly dispatching a foe, and Abraham was caught off-guard as his attention focused on his fellow Sword. Two zombies had turned their attention on Abraham, and leapt from the wrecked home to devour him.
He stepped to the side and brought his blade up to connect with the first creature’s neck, but the monster moved too fast and his sword caught on the blistered man’s wrist. The blade sliced through the zombie’s arm and then slid along the bone, cutting off a strip of flesh before the creature slammed into Abraham, knocking him backward and dangerously close to the raised bank of the Tennerblane.
Abraham glanced back at the dock six feet below, and the stairs where the Swords had lined up to transfer buckets up from the dock to the burning house. He was looking for a safe retreat, aware that in a moment there would be a second zombie crashing into him.
Thankfully, the straps on the zombie’s muzzle hadn’t burned away in the fire, but the creature was still doing its best to press that mask against Abraham’s face, mindlessly gnashing its teeth behind the leather. Abraham tried to pivot and send the creature falling to the dock below, but the zombie had a tight grip on his armor as its fingers searched for flesh.
“Abe!” Murien screamed out when she saw her friend being mauled. Her voice sounded desperate, and Abraham feared that she needed as much help as he did.
Abraham was going to scream her name, but only managed, “Muri…” before the second zombie struck him. The force of the blow knocked him off the edge of the bank, and he fell with his two attackers to the dock below.
His chainmail rattled as his back thudded on the wooden deck. His breath was lost, but the zombies intent on devouring him weren’t similarly fazed. The first was muzzled, but the second had slipped its mask. Yellow teeth bore down on Abraham, aimed directly for his eyes. While gasping for breath, Abraham thrust his arm up to shield his face, and he was able to stop the zombie before suffering a fatal injury. The creature’s assault was vicious and furious , driven by an inhuman hunger and anger.
Abraham couldn’t keep the zombie away for much longer, and resorted to rolling and trying to throw it off of him and into the water. He misjudged his position on the dock, and instead of throwing only the monster into the water he rolled off the edge himself as well. The water shocked and disoriented him, and he sunk fast. All of the air had been pushed out of his lungs when he hit the dock, and he was already weighted down by armor. He had no buoyancy to keep him afloat, and instead fell straight to the bottom of the tributary.
The murky depths almost silenced the screams of horror from above, and Abraham stared up at the shimmering surface as more bodie
s fell in, breaking the serenity of the wavering light and replacing it with thrashing limbs and severed body parts. His helm had fallen off when he hit the water, making it easier for him to look around in the murky depths.
He was moments away from drowning as his body struggled without air, and Abraham knew he didn’t have long to live. He pushed up from the rocky bottom and tried to swim for the surface. His weight encumbered him, but he managed to find one of the dock’s posts and used it to climb up to the surface.
“Abe?” asked Murien desperately.
Abraham sputtered and gasped as he clung to the edge of the dock. He loped his arm over the side, hanging on as his weary body struggled to stay alive. He tried to yell out that he was safe, but no voice came forth despite his effort. He took another breath, and then tried again, “I’m here.”
He looked up at the stairs leading to the bank where there had been six Swords during the fire. Now there was just Murien, standing at the top of the stairs and fending off the horde. Abraham tried to heave himself up to go and help her when another decayed fiend suddenly faced him. The zombie had fallen to the dock and crawled over to Abraham. Now the monster reached out at him with its bony claws and grabbed hold of Abraham’s thick hair. It pulled itself forward as Abe screamed in pain, and the creature’s open mouth leaked blood and saliva.
The dock shook as Murien leapt from the stairs and landed beside Abraham’s attacker. Her sword cleaved the zombie’s head from its body, leaving the black eyes time enough to glance upward before closing. She kicked the severed head into the river and then reached out to take Abraham’s hand.
“Come on,” she said as she gripped him. “There’s more of them.”
Abraham was about to come up out of the water when he heard the screams of the townsfolk all around him. He looked at the banks of the Tennerblane and saw the chaos that had engulfed the city. Then he looked back to Murien and asked, “What?”
“There’s more! They’re everywhere.”
Abraham could see the wave of dead on the bank above Murien. They weren’t just coming from the abandoned, burned building. The chaos had erupted everywhere, and the creatures above saw Murien and Abraham as easy targets. They were coming for them.
Abraham didn’t have time to warn Murien, and instead pulled her into the river with him. She screamed out, but her protest was quickly silenced as she splashed in behind him. He pushed himself away from the dock and grabbed hold of his fellow Sword. She was sputtering and flailing in the water beside him, and he wrapped his hands around her as he kicked desperately to gain space between them and the dock as the zombies charged. The creatures leapt for them, but sunk as soon as they hit the water.
“What are you doing?” asked Murien, angry and confused.
“We’ll swim to the gate,” said Abraham.
“We have to fight,” said Murien as the water lapped against her face.
“No,” said Abraham as he struggled to stay afloat. “There’re too many.” He was confused by the scope of the chaos. There zombies weren’t just appearing from the burned home, they were coming from everywhere. All along each side of the tributary there were similar cries of pain and panic. “We have to open the gate.”
Abraham was quickly losing strength as he tried to stay afloat. The armor afforded by the guild threatened to drag him beneath the water, and he knew that Murien would be suffering the same. He pulled her towards the sculpted bank, where a stone wall had been built alongside this trench to prevent the water from eroding the dirt beneath the riverfront homes.
They got to the bank, which rose up seven feet to the road above, and Abraham tried to dig his fingers between the stones for support. His chainmail gauntlets hampered his manual dexterity, but the gaps between the stones were large enough that he was able to hold on. Murien also gripped the wall, exhausted from her short time fighting to stay afloat.
“We have to help,” said Murien as she looked over at the opposite bank where screaming townsfolk were fleeing an unseen menace.
Some people started to leap into the water with them, seeking any safety they could from the horde. Abraham pointed south, to where the waterway flowed through a closed gate. “We have to get the…” he swallowed a gulp of water as the river splashed against his face. He sputtered and choked, coughed, and then continued, “We have to open the gate.”
“Why?” asked Murien.
“So people can get out safely. Zombies don’t swim.”
She clearly wanted to get back to shore and help fight, but recognized that Abraham was right. The best way to save the people here would be to get to the end of the waterway and unlock the gate. Only Sword-Captains carried keys to the gates, and she was likely the only one in the area who wasn’t already fighting or dead. The townsfolk in the water were being carried along by the current to the closed gate at the edge of town.
“All right, let’s go,” said Murien as she pushed away from the wall so that she could swim quicker.
Abraham had meant for them to slowly make their way along the wall, and he yelled out for Murien to wait, but she was already swimming with her head down, moving as fast as she could to the gate. He took a deep breath and then followed, struggling to keep himself from sinking and staying close to the wall in case he did.
Murien was telling people in the water, “Follow me. Get to the gate.” Then she would submerge herself again as she swam desperately on.
Abraham’s muscles had gone past being pained, and were starting to fail. He was beginning to cramp, and keeping himself afloat was nearly impossible. Murien had made it to the gate, and was climbing a ladder to shore. Abraham could see that there was a fight occurring just above her, and the Swords were losing ground to the zombies.
“Murien, wait!” Abraham screamed to her, but his voice was lost amid the din of other cries. She was across the river from him, and he was too weak to follow. It took all his strength just to cling to the wall and keep from sinking. He was forced to watch as Murien climbed up to the landing where the gate’s crank was locked away as the Swords on shore lost ground to the advancing zombies.
Murien got to the top of the ladder and saw that she was climbing into the middle of a fight. She hesitated for a moment, but then finished her climb and joined the battle. Abraham couldn’t hear her as she screamed commands to the other Swords, and his attention was drawn to a child nearby who was struggling to swim. The girl was sputtering and flailing.
Abraham kept his fingers of his left hand wedged between the stones of the wall and tried to extend his right to reach the girl, but she was too far. They locked eyes just before the terrified child sank beneath the waves. Abraham pushed himself off the wall and went after the girl, sinking beneath the surface as he blindly grabbed out in the direction she’d been. He felt her fingers clawing at him, and he wrapped his arm around her. She wasn’t calmed by his presence, and continued her struggle for survival, pushing him down as she tried to get her head above the water.
Now he wasn’t just struggling to save her life, but his own as well. The child kicked and pushed at him, using his body like a ladder to the surface and forcing him down. He gripped her dress and yanked it towards the wall. He could feel himself sinking as he did, and knew that the child was being dragged under as well, but he didn’t want to leave her in the middle of the waterway. He got to the wall, forced the child over to it, and then guided her fingers to the cracks. She understood, and swiftly climbed up, leaving him to try and ascend himself. His heavy boots hit the bottom of the river, and he knelt before launching up, using every bit of strength he could muster to ascend. He saw the shimmering surface, but then it started to move away as he sank again. This time he clawed at the wall, trying to get his fingers into one of the cracks, but it was impossible and he ended up back on the bottom. His lungs ached, and he knew this would be his last chance before he involuntarily gasped for air and drowned. He knelt and then fiercely thrust himself upward, clawing along the wall to help him along.
Abraham got to the surface and gasped in desperation. The child he’d saved was clinging to the wall, crying for her mother, and he held on beside her as his arms shook from exertion. He remembered Murien’s task, and looked over his shoulder to see if she’d survived.
Murien had opened the cage that shielded the gate’s crank. The walkway led up to the crank, with a wall on one side and the river on the other. There was only one Sword still alive up there with her, and he was felled by the wave of zombies advancing. The man kept trying to fend the creatures off even as he was knocked to his knees. He threw one of the zombies to the river where it sank quickly to the bottom, but there were three more to replace their lost ally.
Abraham saw that Murien’s back was turned to the zombies as she focused on winding the crank to open the gate. A slew of townsfolk had leapt into the water, seeking escape, and were now gathered at the closed portcullis gate, trapped here with the horror all around them. The crank clattered as Murien wound it, causing the chains to pull slowly at the gate.
“Murien, behind you!” Abraham tried to warn her.
She was attacked, and had no way of defending herself. One of the zombies ripped her helm off and tossed it aside before going back in for another attack. The gate’s crank had to be held or locked in place to prevent it from coming back down again, and Murien was determined to save the huddled townsfolk in the river. As the zombies pulled at her, she continued to raise the gate.
Some of the townsfolk were now swimming under and then surfacing on the other side, outside of New Carrington. Abraham said to the girl beside him, “Move along the wall. You’re going to have to go under the gate.”
The young child just cried out for her mother instead of responding.
Abraham took the girl’s arm and shook her as he pointed. “Go that way.” His harshness snapped her back into focus, and she nodded before doing as he said. Abraham looked back at Murien and saw her lower the bar that locked the crank, preventing the gate from falling. She hadn’t managed to get the iron portcullis to raise past the water’s surface, but the townsfolk were still able to get to safety.
Now Murien was fighting for her own survival, and losing. She was bloodied, and Abraham could see a deep wound on her neck. Her short black hair was wet with her own blood as she continued to fight, undaunted by the injuries Abraham was certain she’d suffered. She picked up another man’s sword, and was now wielding two, hacking and slicing at the horde and pushing them away from the shore. Abraham realized that she wasn’t simply trying to survive, but was forcing the zombies back from the edge of the river, keeping them away from the townsfolk swimming below.
Murien fought her way back out of the nook where the crank was located and onto the street where more of the monsters had gathered. She was screaming out at them, trying to get their attention. She succeeded, and a slew of zombies headed her way.
A woman who’d been trapped inside one of the homes now took the opportunity Murien had afforded her to run out towards the river. She was going to leap in, but one of the zombies turned on her and away from the only Sword left alive up there to fight.
Murien rushed at the monster, knocking it to the side as the other woman leapt into the river. But the distraction had caused Murien to turn away from the other zombies, and now they had the advantage. Murien was set upon from behind, and she teetered at the edge of the river, trying to keep from falling. She lost her battle, and was pushed off by the hungry dead. She plummeted back into the river, with three zombies following quickly after.
Abraham began to take off his armor, starting with his gloves. After his gauntlets were off and sinking to the bottom, he unlatched the clasps on the side of his breastplate and lifted the heavy armor off. He was also wearing a chainmail hauberk, but knew that he wouldn’t be able to remove it easily. Finally, he pulled his boots off and dropped them as well, hoping that it would be enough to make his swim easier.
He dove beneath the water, determined to find Murien and get her out of the city.
The water stung his eyes as he searched the murky depths, but he could only see a few feet in front of him as he swam. Then, emerging from the shroud like a ship in fog, a zombie’s face peered out at him. He jerked backward, his sword in hand, and then realized that the head had been severed and was now bobbing just beneath the surface. Next he saw Murien, her sword buried deep in the throat of a zombie.
He took her arm, and she faced him in anger before recognition calmed her. Abraham pointed up and then looped his arm into hers before swimming upward. With her help, they crested the waves and made it to the wall. Murien was exhausted, and panted between each short phrase, “Let’s get… back up there… come with… help me.” She pointed at the ladder.
Abraham looked at the grievous wound on her neck where one of the zombies had bitten her. He shook his head and said, “No, we have to get out.”
“We can’t leave,” said Murien. “We have to fight.”
“Those people out there need our help too,” said Abraham as he pointed at the gate that the townspeople were swimming under.
“I can’t go with them,” said Murien. “I’m infected now. I’ll be dead in minutes. Leave me. Let me die fighting.”
“They need us,” said Abraham. “Come with me, please.” He didn’t think it would work, and when she looked at him he was certain she was going to say that she was headed back up to fight. She was ready to speak, but then paused and considered what he’d said.
“Come with me,” said Abraham.
Murien glanced back up at the shore, and then over at Abraham, as if she didn’t want to be forced to choose. Finally, she nodded and said, “I’ll go with you.”