“Are you sure about this?” I asked Lorenzo for the fifth time as I clambered onto Adalbert’s back. It was midday and I felt rushed to have packed and made ready for this crazy outing.
“Our probes revealed similar findings,” Morgana answered for my friend. “That be why I could return so soon. Several signal outbursts we detected at camp came from beyond the crystal mountains in the heart of the Cythnian Desert. We believe that be where our adversaries be based. According to ancient lore, the area was once a fertile valley before the ancient Wizard Wars.”
“Just how did you also come to this conclusion?” I asked skeptically of Lorenzo.
He smiled and shrugged. “While you were bar hopping, I was actually working. One cannot reside in a sterile wasteland without provisions. There must be outside suppliers and haulers. I just followed those leads.”
“I still do not like it. I should be following up with the mercenary Kairem and a Lost Elf,” I complained.
“You’re just spooked because we’re headed for Urbemmortis,” he laughed.
I scowled but did not answer. How could I, since he was right? Urbemmortis – the city of many a bairn’s nightmares – including my own. A staple of dark childhood fables of where the abandoned, gods-forsaken streets are still trod upon by grub-white ghouls and the ghosts of ancient residents, so evil they cannot pass onto where more mundane murderers, rapists, mutilators and genociders can. So said Marl the Adventurer in a trip recorded more than three centuries ago.
He described the city as, “Like the bones of a giant disease-ridden scavenger, it lies half buried in scorching sands that drift ceaselessly between its bleached ribs. The windows evilly glare forth as empty skull sockets. There remains the stench of death even as any once living creature now be but desiccated husks. A nauseous draft stirring the sands be such as a plague victim’s lung-rotted breath. Half of my party now joins those brittle corpses interned a millennium ago. They died clawing at their bleeding eyes and screaming blasphemous curses.”
“He died in a lunatic asylum soon after returning,” I added after quoting the luckless adventurer.
“All right, it be torturous prose,” I admitted beneath Lorenzo’s mocking gaze. “Marl never claimed to be a poet and he was prone to mixed metaphors, but the fact remains that Urbemmortis be cursed and we travel there at our own peril.”
“Yet there now appears to be some inhabiting the site,” he noted.
“That also proves my point,” I answered in turn while securing myself. “Whoever survives there be someone I care not to meet.”
Already fastened in were the two mercenaries. I was now seated directly behind them and next to Morgana. Lorenzo was to the front. We waited only for Morgana’s mother.
“What about you two?” I asked of Hiidee and Hiilda. “Does this not seem madness?”
“Maybe,” answered Hiilda.
“Maybe?”
“Yes, maybe. Hiidee and I are getting no younger. We contemplate becoming conflict consultants. Such a venture as this will greatly enhance our marketing. Adding to that is working with the most feared witch in Glavendale. Not many can boast of that.”
Though that was one brag I could usually do without, having Morganna along did slightly ease my disquiet.
Adalbert looked over his shoulder and in as a snide tone as possible for a dragon, said, “Do not be such a bedwetter.”
“Hah. That be easy for you to say. You will be hightailing it to the clouds once we are dropped off.”
“What whining be this?”
I jerked in my harness. Morganna relishes the startlement her abrupt appearances bring.
“I was just wondering if you keep a winter home in Urbemmortis. I hear the property values are quite affordable.”
I may have been jesting, but for all I knew the fearsome witch did vacation in the city of death. I could see it. After all, her main abode is a former temple of Dorga, the Fish Headed God of Death. To my surprise, the witch ignored my jab and levitated to Lorenzo’s side. A flick of her fingers had the leather belts rising like vipers to encircle her.
Minutes later, Stagsford was dwindling to that of a child’s toy village. Except for the witches clad in some invisible warmth spell, the rest of us were garbed for the cold among the clouds. I wore a short, linen-lined leather surcoat since a cape would have beaten me merciless in the high winds.
Our small group, Morgana explained, was to only probe our enemy’s defenses. The coven leaders decided reinforcing the protective wards about the Stagsford academy and hall was now the most critical mission. The always humble Morganna assured her fellow witches that she was more than capable of safeguarding our scouting party. I hoped so.
It was late afternoon when Urbemmortis came into sight. Adalbert circled several times before landing on a roof overlooking a wide plaza featuring a central debris-filled fountain. Long-dead skeletal trees guarded the entrances to streets radiating outward like spokes from a wheel hub.
I squinted in the glare from the sun-bleached structures. The white limestone buildings were two and three stories with small balconies facing the plaza. The centuries of blowing sands had worn away the sharp edges of windowsills and doorways. Wooden frames had long since disintegrated, though iron bars remained over many windows.
Stretching my legs, I gazed about and tried imagining the bleak landscape as it would have appeared a thousand years ago. It was no improvement. The parade of heinous figures carved into the mouldings would then have been in even sharper relief.
“They were a whimsical bunch,” observed Lorenzo as he gazed at what appeared to be a hybrid weasel/lizard chewing at the throat of a young maiden.
Adalbert wasted little time in leaving after our camp supplies were unpacked and carted up to the third floor. I made sure a basket of cured meats, bread, dried fruits and cheeses had been packed, along with flagons of ale.
Morganna, with a wave of her hands, summoned a brief but fierce wind to blow the rooms free of debris.
“There will be no leaving this building without I or my daughter,” ordered Morganna. In response to frowns from the mercenaries, she stressed, “Steel and muscle are no match for what is said to dwell in these accursed ruins. For me, Urbemmortis be an unknown. It has been shunned for so long there are no reliable accounts of what lies within these ruins. Even fables involving the original inhabitants are just that – fairy tales.”
Hiilda nodded her head in agreement. “Fairies are always making up shit.”
“What of Marl the Adventurer?” asked Hiidee.
Morganna sniffed. “That charlatan? It be said he traveled no further than the outlying taverns of Glavendale.”
Lorenzo says there be no magic in his world, yet his silk-like shelters, barely heavier than smoke, sprang effortlessly into habitats large enough to hold three or four persons. He also had bladders that when blown into, were comfortable mattresses.
“Coleman’s” he mysteriously replied, when I questioned him on the shelters.
~ * ~
I placed an arm about Morgana’s shoulders as we gazed from a balcony to watch a swollen red sun begin to set. With a full stomach, an ale in one hand and my beloved at my side, I felt content. That was despite readying to spend the night in an ancient necropolis said to be swarming with armies of the dead.
“Did you hear that?” Morgana asked.
“Huh?”
“Listen.”
I nuzzled her ear. “I hear nothing.”
“There. Hear that?”
I sighed. Yes, I heard some faint, echoing clatter, but I did not want to admit it. It had been weeks since we had quiet time together.
I cocked my head. Were those voices?
“Come, we must investigate.”
“Hold on. It be almost dark.”
“All the more to act now,” she replied, “before it becomes too dark.”
She grabbed my arm and pulled me to the flight of stairs leading to street level.
“Wait. We must tell the others,” I protested.
“We have no time. Besides, you heard my mother say we could leave if I be one of the parties. Do you not feel safe with me?”
The truth be that I would not feel safe in Urbemmortis with a dozen witches and mages. I made my feelings known with just a sigh and followed her down to the streets.
“There. It comes from that direction. Follow me,” she declared excitedly.
We rushed down an avenue littered with the rubble of fallen, grotesque statues and the skeletons of the last wild beasts able to survive the advancing desert.
I grabbed Morgana’s arm as we came to an intersection. I could hear clatter and voices. “Hold. Whatever hellish creatures we pursue, they be but around this corner.”
Morgana licked her lips, took a deep breath and drew out her wand in preparation of a magical defense.
“Hold,” I again ordered. “We cannot charge in blindly. I must first spy this out.”
“Do it,” Morgana tersely replied, almost too tense to speak.
I came to the last structure on the left side of the avenue and pressing myself closely against its wall, cautiously peered around the corner.
“What be it?” she whispered after a minute had passed.
I pulled myself back and answered, “Something beyond belief.”
“What?” she impatiently asked.
I took one last peek and stepped back. “See for yourself.”
After a brief hesitancy, Morgana placed a hand upon my shoulder and leaned forward. She gasped.
“So?’ I asked.
“I, I do not believe it.”
We stepped out into the street to gaze at a busy scene halfway down the block. Scaffolding covered the front of at least a dozen of the buildings. Several times that number of humans were apparently beginning work for the evening, climbing up the scaffolding or hauling buckets of rubble to a large pile of debris in the middle of the street. Witch globes were beginning to blaze to life, bathing the scene in a bluish light.
A large white sign with bright red lettering proclaimed, “The future site of Sunny Urbemmortis Haunt, a spooky oasis in the sands. Homes from fifteen hundred to four thousand square feet. Just minutes from a planned market and dragonport. Tell your friends.”
Beneath it in smaller letters was, “Another project by Your Favorite Realtors.”
We made our way to a woman examining parchments on a snapboard. She looked up to shout orders to several workers chiseling away at a bas-relief running beneath a roofline. “No, leave the fellow with the snake head and whatever that thing is with its mouth in its stomach. We need to leave a little ambience. Yes, go ahead and knock off that, ah, ugh. I cannot even look at it.”
I cleared my throat and she turned to inspect us from head to feet. “You are early. The display units are not finished. The plumbing has been a nightmare.”
“Sorry, but we are not whomever you are expecting,” I said.
“Who then?” She stepped back and eyed us suspiciously. “What are you doing here? Spying for that masonry guild out of Macocahta? We told you, this be far out of your dominion. We will be filing papers for our homeowner’s association next week.”
Morgana stepped forward. “We are with a mission for the witch covens of Stagsford. What goes on here?”
The woman was startled. “You are what?” She looked both confused and slightly intimidated at the mention of witches.
“Witches? What concern be this to you?” she bristled while waving her hand at the bustling workers. “This be but a village revitalization.”
“In Urbemmortis?” I asked. “Where the abandoned, gods forsaken streets are still trod upon by grub-white ghouls and the ghosts of ancient residents so evil they cannot pass on to where more mundane murderers, rapists, mutilators and genociders can?”
“You got it. Locale, locale, locale. Think of the bragging rights that come with living in the fabled city of death. At least that is what our marketing and investors are counting on. When one of our people came back and reported this place was as empty as a hobgoblin’s date book, we knew we had to move fast. Think of it, a countless number of units just waiting to be flipped.”
“Here in the middle of a blistering desert miles and miles from water? Who in their right mind would want or could live here?” I scoffed.
“It be not so hot in the winter and there be underground water we have tapped for the development. We plan on irrigating for croquet courses and putting in mineral baths. Many of our potential buyers will be older and only reside here during the cooler months. Our gross product margin will be unbelievable.”
“We already have our realty office open for business,” she continued, pointing across the street.
I could easily tell which of the buildings she referred to. It was the only one that had its window glass replaced. I shook my head in disbelief. What a crazy idea.
“For sure Urbemmortis be empty? No ghouls, demons, banshees, zombies…”
“Nada. Nothing,” she cut me off. “We explored this city from end to end. Though we have noticed dragons occasionally coming and going from that tower.”
She appointed to a tower in the center of the city, now a rosy hue from the setting sun. It was too distant to determine its height.
“We sent a worker to see who was there, but he never came back,” she continued before cocking her head and examining us more closely. “Why again are you here?”
~ * ~
“So, Marl the Adventurer was a charlatan,” said Hiidee, after Morgana and I related our visit. “All those thrilling bedtime tales are false? It was because of them that I took up the sword and sought adventure.”
“At least the ones dealing with Urbemmortis,” answered Morgana. “He might have traveled here, but the rest were fabrications to promote his speaking tours.”
We sat around a witch’s flame that cast dancing shadows across the roof. The stars brilliantly peppered the sky without street gaslights to dim them.
“Tomorrow, Lorenzo and I will investigate the tower,” Morganna spoke. Until now she had remained silent. “It must be the site for those behind the malspells.”
“I will accompany you, mother. This is my first case as a private inquisitor,” Morgana firmly told her mother.
“I go where she goes,” I added, just as determinedly.
“We go where the ferret goes,” the two mercenaries spoke in unison.
“That be private inquisitor,” I responded by rote. “It looks like we know what will be on tomorrow’s schedule.”
~ * ~
“What?” I exclaimed, then remembered we were to be discreet as we made our way into the city proper.
“You would buy one of these derelict buildings?” I continued in a hushed tone. “That be lunacy. What would you do with it?”
“Look about you,” Lorenzo replied with a sweep of his hand. “No matter how malevolent the original inhabitants were, they knew how to build. I wouldn’t buy around here. As we circled Urbemmortis yesterday, I saw some choice real estate in the bordering hills. Rather palatial, in fact. It would be a good investment with the housing shortage now in Glavendale. Once the dragonport is finished, this will be a boom town.”
Lorenzo be probably right, but for me it would be hard to erase memories from a lifetime of hearing foul tales of the city.
We walked single file, staying to the morning shadows of the buildings. Morganna and Hiidee led our party with Morgana and Hiilda to the back. We moved out of domestic neighborhoods into guild and market districts. The buildings were now four or five stories with many having display windows, minus any glass except for shards amongst the sand, and doors large enough for freight wagons. I guessed we had three miles to go before reaching the center and the tower.
“Nothing yet,” spoke Morganna.
She gave such appraisals every ten minutes. The witch continually monitored for traces of magic. Morgana told me she and her mother would have walked even if not accompanied by the rest of us. The energy used with brooms would be detected if there were magic users in the tower.
I grew more nervous with every step. I was with two witches, but even they could be overwhelmed by superior numbers. What if our magical adversaries were backed by a garrison of hired blades? What chance would our four swords have against them?
“You seem a bit tense, little buddy.”
“A bit tense?” I replied to Lorenzo. “We are only six, heading to who knows what awaits us at the heart of a primordial stronghold of mythical beings so malignant that even vague mentions of them were expunged from most ancient tomes. What if they have returned? A bit tense, you ask?”
“Here. You need a shot,” Lorenzo replied in the vexing cheerful voice he uses in such situations. He pulled a flask from his pouch. I did not argue, but took a sip of the fiery drink he calls moonshine.
It slightly calmed me. Just what did the city builders look like? Were they the grubs with human-like heads in the murals? Maybe they were the upright cockroaches or the blue-eyed toads. It did not matter. They were all depicted as eager participants in truly vile pursuits.
With the rising of the sun came the oven heat of the desert. No wonder that renovation crew began its work in the evening. My eyes felt as if filled with grit and my sinuses ached deep into my head. I could imagine turning into human jerky, mummified by day’s end.
A waterskin was passed around as we entered the heart of the city and gazed up at the tower looming fifteen stories above us. Morganna motioned for us to follow through a doorway. Once inside, I turned away from a faded mural depicting themes common to the other artworks we passed on our march – if one could ever link such nightmarish profanities to the word ‘common.’
Lorenzo noticed my revulsions. “I think I will invest in a paint-making guild.”
“There be not enough coatings to wipe such images from my mind. I would always know what horrors lie beneath,” I replied, then turned to Morgana. “I am hoping, once established, our new private inquisitor agency will not specialize only in magical cases.”
She knowingly smiled and touched my arm. “I should hope not. You are not alone in finding this case taxing.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank the gods. I have had enough of irate mages. Give me a white-tunic embezzler or missing spouses. I am not eager to storm this tower, but if it means solving the case and returning to Duburoake, lead on.”
Morganna stopped to study the surroundings. “I still detect no wards or magical activities. My daughter and I will head the climb to nullify possible curses or magical entrapments.”
“I will also take lead,” Hiilda spoke loudly. The halfling did not wilt beneath Morganna’s glare. “There may well be traps that are not of a magical nature. I am well versed in pitfalls, arrow traps, snares, flooding rooms, whirling blades and falling blocks.”
Morganna maintained her frostbite stare but for a moment, before coolly smiling and replying, “Yes, there is that. Please, lead the way.”
Hiidee did not look happy at her smaller companion’s volunteering, but remained silent.
I did not look forward to this venture for a reason beyond what magical perils we might face. There would be no elevators. The basement apparatus powered by draft animals would have been out of service for a millennium. It was exhausting just to think of fifteen flights of stairs.
Even battle-hardened Hiidee and Hiilda appeared tense as we entered the first-floor lobby. It was a vast open area, well-lit by the large front windows, but growing dimmer farther in. Sand drifts covered the flooring nearest the windows. Toward the back, nauseating floor mosaics were visible.
“There be the way,” Hiilda observed and pointed to a door well.
We paused upon reaching it and looked through to see spiraling iron steps. The outer stairwell wall featured narrow windows. A thick layer of dust and sand was undisturbed. The top floors had not been gained this way.
Hiilda ventured first to closely inspect the steps at her feet as well as the undersides of those winding above us. She was satisfied enough to begin the climb and was followed by the two witches. Lorenzo and I were next with Hiidee guarding the rear.
The progression stopped as we were reaching the fourth floor. I leaned over the center railing and craned my neck upward. My companions’ hushed tones softly echoed down the stairwell, though not loud enough for me to distinguish the words. Hiidee pushed past me and disappeared around the turn.
Lorenzo and I drew our swords. I did not want to impede any defenses the mercenaries or witches might be undertaking, but I chafed at the wait. Morgana’s voice finally called down, “You can come up.”
The four stood silently gazing at the scattered bones of what once were five or six halflings. Some of the larger bones were snapped as if broken for their marrow. Strewn amongst them were assorted pieces of dented armor and broken blades.
“The bones are brittle with age, but still long after the city was abandoned by its inhabitants,” observed Morganna. “This scene played out less than two hundred years ago.”
Hiilda kneeled to examine the broken skeletons more closely. “These are teeth marks. They died by beast and not magic.”
I pushed a scrap of familiar cloth with the toe of my boot. “They were Blackwatch Goblins. They would not have gone down easily. I am not eager to discover what be capable of taking on a half-dozen goblins.”
At the sixth landing we again halted. This time there was no way to tell what or how many met their end. There had to have been more than just a couple to leave such a large, now-dried mass of gore, specked with bits of hair, teeth and bone.
“This was magic,” declared Morgana. “There be no doubt of it.”
“There are no residual traces of magic remaining,” her mother elaborated, “therefore this be not recent. It could also be several centuries old.”
“There are also no signs of weapons,” I observed, “which means they were probably witches or wizards.”
Blackwatch goblins overcame by physical violence and others by magic. Were the perpetrators still around?
My legs were feeling the labor by the tenth floor. We climbed slowly enough that I was not out of breath. Sweat dried instantly in the arid air. As at the other landings, Morgana and one of the mercenaries did a brief exploration. So far, each level was found to be divided into two and three-room units connected by several hallways. There were no foot tracks, though bolts, nails, hinges and unidentifiable bits of iron littered the floors.
We paused at the thirteenth-floor landing.
“There is now an ambient presence of magic,” the mother witch whispered. “It has been purposely muted so that only this close can it be detected.”
“Fresh?” I whispered to Morgana.
“Yes,” she whispered back.
On the fifteen floor we gathered about an imposing bronze door. No doubt everyone harbored questions similar to my own. What lay behind it? I took a deep, ragged breath that had nothing to do with climbing fifteen flights of stairs.
“There be a ward here,” Morganna said as she brought forth her wand. “Move back. I will remove it.”
I stepped forward and brushed my fingers across the metal. “This be new or recently burnished. There are no traces of green that comes with age.”
The words were no sooner out of my mouth than the massive door explosively flew open.
“I warned you to stand back,” I heard a taunting voice through the daze of being slammed backward and tumbling down several steps.
I painfully climbed to my feet as quickly as possible and drew my sword. The aches would inevitably make themselves known later, but for now that open door drew all my attention. As if frozen for a portrait, the witches stood with wands poised for either defense or attack, while the mercenaries warily stood with knees slightly bent and blades tightly clutched. Lorenzo was already out of sight.