Tallah [Book 3 Complete]

Falor's skin itched from the gore covering him, mostly because the bits of people stuck in his hair still wriggled.

Casting while his temper flared generally did not produce anything good, which was why he avoided it. The shambling dead, however, provided just the violence sponge distraction to pry his mind away from how his world had just experienced a tectonic shift. Cinder had been honest.

The cost of that revelation was to stare at an army of living death and at a castle overrun. In the short, brutal moments where he'd been tossed about, Falor hadn't had time to fully understand the complete defeat of Drak's Perch garrison.

The warden office communicated with the main keep through what was now a ruined short hall. Falor's blast of power had utterly blown out the far wall, leaving a yawning wound that revealed a room choked with the walking corpses. The nearest had been blown off their feet or, in a few cases, apart, and they were just now coming back together with deadly intent.

Weapons swung in the air as if the owners did not remember what use they were. It wouldn't take long for the dead to figure it out, now that slack-jawed faces had turned their way.

The numbers were daunting in themselves, but they weren't the worst part of it. Among the tattered remains of peasant garb, between the distorted anatomy and the gaping rib cages, it was unpleasantly easy to spot the livery of the Calhad household mingled in with the rest. And equally easy to spot were Vacrion's noble features in the crushing crowd, even twisted by the horror of his transformation after death.

Judging by the gasp at this side, Yriea saw him too.

"Bloody bastard," the aelir'rei growled. "How dare he touch people of my house?!"

"Him?" Falor pulled in more illum, his words distorting as power built in his veins. His restrictions were all disengaged. "I am to believe this is, indeed, Ort's work? I find that hard to accept."

More fool I. Cinder was honest and my mother's empire keeps secrets from me.

The aelir'rei—soon to be aelir'matar—snorted as she matched his luminescence. "I can't describe how little I care for what you believe. Fact of the matter is that my guard captain is dead, and I can only assume my shards are lost. Unless you mean for us to render all these corpses to boiling fat, then sift through the remains, I would suggest a smarter approach."

He was angry enough to do just that. But, like before, anything less than a devourer didn't look likely to hold these creatures down. Already those blasted by him were mostly recovered, rebuilt, or simply regrown into odd, inhuman shapes.

Two torsos, three legs, and four arms fused together and were trying to come upright. A whole caterpillar of hands was fusing itself to a headless peasant, sprouting countless wriggling fingers.

One of the bits clinging to him tried to slither into his ear. He ripped the finger off and tossed it into the encroaching mass.

A Punishment cast in so narrow a space would likely bring half of the castle down on their heads, if they were lucky.

He raised his hammer and assessed their options. Running back would lead them out into the courtyard or into the wall tunnel to face the other creature slithering about in there. Going forward would get them into a trident of a room, the main dais flanked by two twisting set of stairs that led up to a tall, overhanging balcony. This would have been the main audience chamber of the fort's lord commander.

And the dead were everywhere. On every set of stairs. Hanging off the balcony. Tearing at tapestries still hung on the wall. The empire's lightning-wreathed fist lay tattered, one of the white and blue arras reduced to little more than a threadbare rug.

Falor swung at the closest monster. The impact reduced the once-human to a pair of hobbled legs, the force of the blast splitting its upper half and splashing the resulting organ soup across the walls. Another swing caught three more monsters. The result were identical.

"Commander, we'll be surrounded soon." Vial remained stalwart in front of Quistis, but the soldier was sweating. He wasn't armed for this kind of butchery, his curved sword looking ridiculous when faced with the work at hand. Cuts meant nothing to the creatures. Beheading them bought heartbeats of peace, nothing more. They all kept rising, and the beetles kept spilling out in a rust-red tide.

Yriea added her power to his. She held out her hands and a ball of writhing lightning spun up between her fingers, arching tendrils of power at her hair and the surrounding gore. She cast it into the mass to an explosion of light. The smell of ozone, burning dust, and burning flesh filled the air along with blood mist and the smoke of burning fabrics and hair.

The aelir'rei let out a gasp of effort, then a strangled sound that could have been anger or despair. Her strike hadn't done much against the overwhelming numbers.

Falor found himself unable to progress, already pushed back by the tide. The soldiers had figured out the use of their old weapons and were swinging them in wide, wild arcs, each cut powerful enough to down a tree. He saw several of the monsters cut down by the frenzy of their kin, chunks flying.

There was no way past them.

"How do we stop them?" he asked as Yriea unleashed another attack.

Walls shattered. Bodies burned. The dead did not scream, just kept coming.

"You can't stop them," the aelir'rei shouted over the thunder of her own powers. "I need you to clear us a path. I don't care how. We need to get down into the dungeons."

She pointed towards the inner keep, at a set of double doors at the far end of the room. Her next words came out strained and her eyes darted between him and Quistis at his back. "We need to retreat into the deep facility." She sneered. "You wanted answers, eidolon. Don't blame me when they'll stick in your throat."

Was Yriea slowing? As he pushed forward, swinging the hammer and enhancing each blow with illum, she fell in his shadow and stopped contributing. Quistis was at her side, arm wrapped around the aelir'rei's midriff, eyes wide with fear. He didn't need to be told what was happening or how bad the situation.

No matter how powerful a channeller, they could only keep back their body's natural limits for so long. Yriea had tried to find a place to give birth in, and they'd barged in and brought the rest of the monsters on their trail. It gave him a different appreciation for his aunt, though now wasn't the time to dwell on it.

"What about the others?" Quistis asked quietly at his side. "They're exposed out there. We should get them here."

Falor shook his head. "Barlo knows his orders. And the other two… they'll be fine. They'll head for safety once time runs out."

"What if they come in after us?"

Falor shoved Quistis back as he swung the hammer to slam aside a sword and knock off a head. He smashed a poorly-wielded spear on his back swing and thrust the head of the hammer into the chest of the creature crowding behind the first. A boot slammed into the chest of the first felled monster and a burst of lightning cooked its insides.

The room stank of cooked pork.

Barlo would try to break through the ranks of the dead. Falor only hoped Mertle and Tummy were convincing enough to keep the vanadal from doing something stupid.

"What others?" Yriea demanded, voice sharp. "Who are you here with? Is Cinder here?"

Falor bloody wished Cinder were there. Considering what she'd demonstrated back in Valen, he had no doubt the pyromancer would be formidable foil to these creatures. Her devourer would be just the thing to break through.

They were being pressed in and pushed back. The more he tried to break into the main hall, the more the monsters compacted and doubled their efforts to drag him down. It was all he could do to keep their grasping hands off his hammer's shaft, each swing feeling heavier than the previous.

"Quistis, need help—"

The tide shifted. One moment he was pushing against the throng, the next he staggered forward, the pressure eased.

Where the creatures pushed as one before, now they split their attention. A large group flowed up the lateral stairs in a rush to reach the upper balconies.

"Oh no." Quistis's reaction came a moment after a figure burst onto the balcony from some hidden chamber above..

There were actually two figures, both tall and built like brick walls. Each had one end of an empire standard in their hands, dragging something.

"Oh no," Falor agreed.

The two figures heaved and struggled, punched and kicked their way past the forming line of the dead, dragging their load towards the edge. Barlo and Tummy heaved. The standard was nearly the length of the balcony, and they straightened it, tossing a great mass of the dead right over the stone railing. Bodies flew. Limbs flailed. The dead were thrown as if loosed from a catapult, and they hit the ground with sickening crunches and splats.

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"Commander," Barlo's voice boomed in the tall chamber. "Got bored waiting." He and Tummy turned back to back just as the dead crashed into them from their flanks.

"Get clear," the vanadal hollered. "Get clear of the hall. Move. Move."

Move where?

"We're a bit bogged down here," Falor shouted back as he swung in a wide arc. Sweat ran in thick rivulets down his face and back, stinging his eyes and sticking his clothes to his skin. "You caught us at a bad time."

Tummy set to the slaughter in the same way he had in the village: clean, methodical, unflinching as he crushed heads and smashed arms and ribs. Barlo was his equal in the fighting. But they weren't trying to kill the monsters. Rather, their method was to cripple, then grab and toss over the railing. It was an odd display.

Barlo waved at them. "Then don't breathe. Captain, on you!" Then he whistled in a well-known pattern.

Quistis reacted as coolly as ever. Her barriers went up immediately and she wove a bubble. A corpse smashed atop it and slid down with a squelch.

"Who is that with the vandal?" Yriea asked at his side. She still glowed with power, but her right hand was under her belly, clutching the fabric of her robe. "Is that Cinder's aide?"

"That's a friend," Falor bristled. "And Cinder's not here. I'm not doing her bidding."

"Where's Mertle?!" Quistis blurted out.

The concern in her voice cut through Falor as keenly as a knife. Every bit of the healer was suddenly aflame in panic. It came and went in a flash, but he felt every tremor of her heart through the tether he kept on her.

Who's she to you? Another question. Another suspicion. Must everyone keep secrets right under my nose?

The fighting above intensified. And it intensified on the ground, as the creatures encircled Falor and his group, crashing against the barrier, pounding on it with fists that were little more than gristle, and half-broken weapons.

"Whatever they mean to do, it should be fast," Quistis groaned as she redoubled her efforts. "I can't hold this. They're bloody strong."

Mertle appeared on the balcony, racing out from somewhere in the back. She leapt and Tummy spun in time to offer his big, meaty hand for her to step on. With a roar, he threw her over the railing, right towards the lone surviving arras. Falor's chest tightened. The others stood frozen as the elendine plunged a knife into the tall imperial wall hanging and arrested her own fall. The tapestry ripped and she descended with the cut to at most three metres off the ground. The elendine brought up her knees and pushed off from the wall.

For a long heartbeat she sailed over the crowding dead. Then she fell in their midst and was gone from sight.

"Is she insane?!" Quistis gasped.

Falor drew breath to command Quistis to drop the barrier. Vial was pressed right against it, ready to leap, mouth working with no sound coming out.

A greenish-yellow cloud burst out from the place where Mertle had fallen, like the air out of a popped balloon. Mertle rose from the suddenly recoiling bodies, climbing atop the mound of rotting flesh.

Smoke curled up and out from her lips as she balanced atop the biggest of the corpses. She drew in a breath, then belched out a long stream of the stuff, turning her head around to cover as much of the room as she could. With arms windmilling for balance, she crouched, then burst into a sprint across the shifting carpet of the dead, trailing the green smoke.

A rope came down from the balcony, dangling just above the crowd. Hands grasped at it but it only served to draw it tight.

Falor watched in disbelief as the elendine ran on the shifting sea, stumbled, almost fell, grabbed a head and righted herself, then continued skipping from shoulder to head to whatever appendage was raised highest. The smoke dwindled to a few vapours still trailing her like a comet tail. Unwittingly, he too was pressed against the inside of the barrier, staring and not quite believing his eyes.

Mertle leapt and grabbed hold of the rope with both hands. She began climbing as Tummy braced one thick foot against the railing and hauled her back up with incredible speed. Some of the creatures were still attached to the end of the rope, their mass swinging as Tummy lifted them.

Barlo picked up two creatures, one in each hand, and threw them bodily at those dangling beneath Mertle's feet. They all dropped into the green haze without a sound.

"Nobody breathe," Yriea commanded, sleeve pressed to her nose. "Don't. Breathe."

Then the monsters began screaming. Whatever that had been, it worked murderously fast. The nearest monster was only slightly steeped in the green fog, but it began dissolving right before Falor's eyes.

Meat sloughed off bone. Eyes melted in their sockets. Organs spilled out through rupturing skin, turned to sludge and just dripped. The death this poison enacted was the most horrific thing Falor had ever seen. With great effort, he tore his eyes away from the bubbling mess, and stared at Mertle as she reached the top of the balcony.

Who are you?

It would probably not be the last time he'd wonder at this. By the look on Yriea's face, the aelir'rei mind was also racing, calculating.

In less than a thirty heartbeats, the hall had been eviscerated of the thick of the army. The poison drifted towards the shattered doors at the far end of the hall, slipping out into the midday sun, still claiming victims as it drifted away.

"Is there another way out?" Falor rounded on Yriea. "Aside from the doors? You spoke of a facility? Where is that?"

He didn't dare take his people through that cloud of poison. And there were still enough of the creatures around to pose an issue. And he expected that flying thing would also be there.

Yriea stared at him, opened her mouth as if to argue, then closed it, thinking better of it.

"Call them down here. We need to move. Now." She turned placed a palm to Quistis's barrier. "Take this down. It should be safe to breathe now. Dragon's Soul only burns for a few heartbeats." She stared up at Mertle and sneered. "Who dares send her thralls here?"

Falor didn't answer but felt the barrier disappear. He waved up to Barlo and the three rushed down the stairs, fighting their way through now that the enemy reeled. Yriea hobbled towards the top of the dais and the rooms back there.

"I thought I gave clear orders." Falor scowled at the vanadal.

Barlo favoured him with a tilt of the chin. "We got bored. Nothing happening on the other side of the fortress."

"Precisely. That's why I sent you there." Falor couldn't keep the grin off his face as he clasped Barlo's arm.

Mertle and Tummy stood aside, breathing hard. The elendine had two fingers stuck in her mouth, rummaging about. She grimaced as something clicked in there, then she pulled out a bloody shattered tooth.

"This'll smart for days," she complained as Falor stared. "Healing, captain Quistis? I don't like the taste of my blood."

Quistis obliged and also imparted everyone with Cassandra's blessing to help with whatever came next.

"Where now?" Barlo asked. Both he and Tummy were staring placidly at Yriea. Both he and Tummy gripped their weapons in white-knuckled fists.

"This way," the aelir'rei demanded.

The dead were gathering again, walking through the ankle-high sludge to reach them.

Yriea headed for one of the larger doors at the back. They were ajar already, and more of the creatures milled inside, as if confused. They were easily dispatched to pieces.

There was no dungeon where Falor expected it. Instead, they entered a wide set of stairs that sloped downward through the bedrock, descending into impenetrable darkness. Sprite lamps lined the walls and they came alive as the group began the descent.

"I'm not sure going farther in is the best idea," Mertle said.

Falor couldn't help noticing she held the black knife in hand and her eyes glued to the back of Yriea's head.

"We're going where my answers are," Falor answered.

They did pass empty cells that looked to never have been occupied. The bars were rusted and the locks degraded with age.

What were the soldiers guarding here? He had so many questions. For Yriea. For Quistis. For Mertle. His head swam with them and it was only pure adrenaline that kept him walking.

It felt like an age before they reached the bottom of the steps, right in front of a familiar round door. Monsters crowded against it and clawed at the dark metal. Falor shattered them before any reacted.

"A vault?" Quistis gave voice to his own question. "Why is there a vault here?"

It was the very same kind of vault door as in Valen, right down to the activation mechanism. This time, Yriea stuck her arm inside and channelled.

Already they could hear the sounds of the enemies shuffling down the stairs after them. Those destroyed were already forming back up.

"Do you have any more of that smoke?" he asked Mertle. "Could use a lot of it."

The elendine grinned but shook her head. "Can't use more. My protection's burned off. Need to rebuild it."

The mechanisms inside the door clicked and whirred and Yriea drew out her arm.

As the door began its ponderous swing outward, she stared at them all, wreathed in lightning, amber eyes shining in the gloom. "Cat will have my head for this. Know that you walk into the work of centuries. Touch nothing. Disturb no one. What you're about to see is the closest guarded secret of humans and aelir alike." Her gaze rested on Mertle and electricity danced in the air. Then she swung to Falor. "Here's your answers, eidolon. Choke on them."

The door fully swung and they were met by a human army brandishing weapons in their direction. Several channellers were arrayed on a platform above the soldiers, their hands gripping power. Electricity. Fire. Ice. Mist. Things Falor had never even seen.

"It's me," Yriea said as she stepped through. "Close this. We're surrounded."

Past the threshold, through the weary soldiers, Falor spied something that should have been impossible. Quistis, at his side, did too.

An illum hearth occupied the centre of a cavern, floating in midair, gently spinning in place and bathing the room in eye-stinging purple light. There were countless people milling about a construct on the far side of the room.

Falor had to crane his neck to take in the full sight of what he was witnessing.

In front of the illum hearth crystal a gate had been erected. It stood several times taller than the one in Aztroa, its diameter at easily over fifty metres, if not taller. It dwarfed any gate he'd ever travelled through, and it was connected to the hearth via snaking long tubes. On one side they were attached to the base of the gate, on the other they were dug into the crystal.

"What's this?" he asked, still gaping up as the vault door closed behind him.

Yriea grinned and her teeth shone blindingly white in the dark light. "This, eidolon, is your mother's legacy. We call it a star gate."