Book of The Dead

Filetta eyed the slimy, dripping walls of the sewer with open disgust. She didn’t like it down here, yet such a convenient network of unpatrolled paths was simply too useful to be ignored. Tonight, she felt especially resentful, though that might have been residual distaste from her task for the night.

Carefully, she pushed that thought to the back of her mind. It wouldn’t do to be distracted, not when undertaking important business on behalf of the Guild. Out of habit, she examined her surroundings, eyes scanning for abnormalities, odd behaviour amongst her crew, even without real conscious thought. A habit that had been beaten into her over years on the job.

One didn’t survive long in this line of work without developing keen senses.

“Two more lefts, boss,” Halfhand told her, his gruff voice echoing off the damp stone despite his attempt to speak softly.

He was nervous. She didn’t need directions, but he’d felt compelled to break the silence, try and relieve some of his tension. Normally, she would smack him down for this, but tonight, she allowed it to pass with only a stern look.

“It’s a normal night, gentlemen,” she murmured. “Shoulder your burdens, and let’s get this over with quickly.”

She met each of their eyes one by one, ensuring that they were steady, that their nerves weren’t too frayed. When she was satisfied, Filetta turned and began to walk once more, treading softly on the narrow walkway beside the flowing muck.

Everyone had been on edge lately. The marshals had been active, much more active than usual. Just yesterday, the guild had lost a warehouse filled with contraband, the whole thing burned to the ground, six enforcers dead. The higher ups were furious, not only because of the lost profits, which were catastrophic, but because they couldn’t identify the leak.

The entire organisation was rattled. Even the goons like Halfhand had noticed. That didn’t fill Filetta with a lot of confidence. When the most thuggish and simpleminded of them were getting cold feet, that meant everyone else was too.

It was raining this night, the constant drumming of water on stone, and the dull roar of the flow draining down into the tunnels were unwelcome background noise for the business of the evening. Luckily, it wasn’t too heavy; some of the tunnels were known to flood during a heavy downpour. If the river rose up, half the network would be underwater, but that wouldn’t happen for a few days, at least.

As the group rounded the last bend, the thief turned once more to check on her men. They appeared to have calmed, which was good. She didn’t want anyone doing anything she didn’t expect. Surprises were nobody’s friend on a night like this.

Waiting for them ahead of time, as always, was Elten, cowled as was his custom, his face a mask of shadows in the darkness. She paused for a moment when she noticed something new, something unexpected, beside him.

It looked to be large, like a cauldron, but covered in black cloth. Even through the cover, she could see irregular lumps poking into the sheet. What in the realm was that?

“Have you brought a gift for me, Elten?” she purred, stepping forward and swaying her hips seductively. “I thought you weren’t interested in maintaining our private relationship any further.”

The man frowned, and she almost laughed at his reaction. She knew he’d enjoyed their time together, knew it for a fact, yet still he appeared nothing more than annoyed when she propositioned him. It was such an odd reaction as to be comical.

“I haven’t time,” he replied simply.

“Should I be jealous?” the thief pouted. “Have you found someone else to satisfy you?”

“I’m working a great deal. Were I to wager, I would bet that you are too. Dreadful fire down on the dock, did you hear?”

She frowned playfully.

“Did you have something to do with any of that?”

Elten raised a silent brow and she chuckled. Of course he hadn’t, and if he had, why would he ever admit it?

He turned his head left and right, as if checking the tunnels on either side. As always, they had met at a crossroad, water sloshing and churning beneath the thick metal grating they stood upon. Filetta kept her face still, the warm smile still stretching her lips.

The mage’s shoulders slumped slightly, for he must be some sort of mage, no matter his extraordinary constitution.

“Let’s get this over with quickly then,” he said, gesturing Filetta to come forward. “Things have been getting tense in the city over the last few weeks.”

“Not so fast, partner. What is it that you have brought us under that cloth? I don't want my boys stepping into some sort of magickal trap.”

The mage glanced down at the covered object by his side. It was large, almost coming up to his waist.

“So frightened of a cauldron, Filetta? Think I’ll throw stew at you? Here.”

He lifted the cloth to reveal what lay beneath and she leaned forward slightly, her eyes seeing everything through the gloom.

Smooth, plain steel met her eyes, flat at the bottom, curved along the sides. It was exactly as it had appeared.

“Why do you have a cauldron in the sewer?” she asked, revolted.

“I had to collect it tonight in another part of the city and didn’t have time to stow it safely,” he muttered, irritation plain on his face.

“So why the cloth?”

“I’m trying to keep the thing clean!”

He covered it once more, but Filetta was satisfied, there shouldn’t be any risk to their business. She stepped forward to meet with Elten, standing not two metres apart.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“I presume you have payment?”

“Of course.”

He withdrew a clinking pouch from his sleeve and tossed it to her. She snagged it deftly from the air before pulling the drawstring and inspecting the contents.

“This is sufficient.”

“When have I ever attempted to cheat you?” Elten said stiffly.

Compared to the other clients she had dealt with, he had been a remarkable partner. Never attempted to skimp on payment, or delay, or claim to have been cheated. As long as the Guild had delivered what he asked, the man had paid. Exactly the sort of people they liked to work with.

Unfortunately, all good things had to come to an end.

“I’m afraid this is going to be our last transaction, Elten,” Filetta sighed, stepping back and gesturing her men forward. “Things are getting too hot in the city right now, so we are planning to lie low for the next while. Things will die down eventually, then we can look to resume our mutually beneficial arrangement.”

He grunted.

“I had a feeling something like this was coming. There’s tension all over the city. Even a recluse like me is hearing things, whispers of trouble brewing in the noble houses.”

Her boys slung down the bags they had carried on their shoulders, deposing them on the grating and stepping back until they had arranged themselves behind their leader.

“Are you going to inspect the goods?” Filetta asked, smirking.

“I won’t touch anything until you leave, as always,” he sighed, not moving from his position.

“Very well. It’s been good doing business with you, Elten. I hope I can see you again sometime soon.”

No emotion crossed his hooded face. Eyes flat and cold, he replied, “Be well.”

With a careless shrug, Filetta turned and led her crew back down the path they had come.

Except she did not continue.

With a silent gesture, she directed her boys to keep moving. Halfhand gave her a nod, taking control of the group as she silently padded back along the stone walkway.

Effortlessly, she melded into the shadows, her feet making no sound as she tread lightly back toward the intersection. Hidden, with all hints of her presence pulled in tight, she watched.

Elten was listening, head tilted, as he waited for the ten man group to leave. When he was satisfied, he nodded to himself and stepped forward, approaching the nondescript brown sacks.

She’d always wondered what he did with them, but she had never asked, for obvious reasons, nor would she learn tonight. Elten was never going to collect these bodies. Tonight, he was going to become one.

She tensed the muscles in her legs, ready to spring, as the mage approached the first sack. Eyes wide, she saw everything in the dim light, her Class abilities perfectly adapting her to these low light conditions. Even the wet stone was not a concern for her; with the grace and dexterity of a cat, she had no chance of slipping.

As Elten reached down to touch the first bag, she leapt into action, From crouched and still, she launched into a full sprint in less than a second, keeping her body low and her steps soundless, she drew her blade.

Just like the knife which slashed out from the bag, cutting through the thick canvas effortlessly, poisoned steel plunging toward the mage’s leg.

Filetta saw only flashes of what happened next, it occurred so quickly. Instead of falling, clutching at his leg as expected, the mage spun, ripping the cloth from the top of his cauldron, except what he revealed was very different from what she had seen before.

There was no cold, grey metal, no smooth, curved edges. She’d known it wasn’t smooth, so why had she thought it was?

Grinning skulls, dozens of them, each one moulded into those next to it, gleamed in the cold light, but only for a second. Before she had crossed half of the distance to her target, black smoke boiled out of the skulls, pouring from their eye sockets, the gap for their nose, even from between their teeth.

It boiled outwards with unnatural speed, filling the intersection in an instant, and suddenly Filetta couldn’t see a thing.

Damn mages and their tricks! She should have been way more suspicious of the fucking couldron. Was she going senile?

Even if that first knife hadn’t found its mark, she could hear more of her people cutting their way free from the bags, climbing to their feet, daggers at the ready.

As long as she could close in on him, Elten stood no chance of survival. Blinding her like this was a nice trick, but it wouldn’t save him from her knife skills. Growling softly, she rushed forward, eager to catch a glimpse of him.

He must be running.

That’s what anyone with half a brain would do, though it wasn’t a good choice. Once the Guild decided he needed to die, he was dead; it was that simple.

Elten wasn’t his real identity, but that didn’t matter. There were ways and means. He would be found, and ended.

Not wanting him to escape, she sprinted forward, heedless of whatever obstacles might come her way. For a moment, she felt as if something had tried to snatch at her foot, a brief moment of resistance, and she frowned before dismissing it.

That didn’t matter. She had to find the mage.

Snarling, she burst through the edge of the black cloud, her eyes adjusting instantly to the change in lighting, and once again she saw the sewer as it had been. She’d expected to see Elten running, robes flapping as he attempted to get away. What she saw instead made her blood run cold.

From the running waters of the sewer emerged clutching hands of bone, latching onto the stone and pulling themselves up. Elten stood, not ten metres away, hands raised, soft words rolling from his tongue.

He was casting! SHIT!

Her instincts told her to move forward, to close the distance before the spell could be completed, but that’s when the first scream rang out from behind her. For a brief moment, she wavered, head whipping back to stare into the darkness, unsure of what was happening there.

Then it was too late.

More skeletons pulled themselves out of the water. A dozen. Two dozen.

Some held weapons, swords and shields, others raised their hands and began to conjure balls of dark light.

Each had the same dark purple light burning in their empty sockets.

“You really were a Necromancer?” she called, somewhat uselessly.

Elten merely smiled and brought his hands down, completing the spell.

Cold air washed over Filetta. No, it wasn’t right to merely call it cold, it was freezing, unnaturally so. Blood seemed to congeal in her veins, muscles locked tight, and her teeth began to chatter in an instant as the frigid air invaded her lungs like a knife.

Don’t stay still; stop moving and you’re dead.

Skeletons thrust their hands forward, launching their spells, but Filetta was moving. She spun like a dancer, launching herself into a handspring that carried her back into the cloud of darkness. She couldn’t see in here, but perhaps they couldn’t either?

More screams, sounds of scuffles, men and women swearing, anger and fear hung thick in the air.

“Get out of the dark cloud!” Filetta yelled, no longer caring if anyone above could hear her. “We can’t fight in this! Be careful of the water below!”

Something hard latched around her ankle and Filetta looked down in horror. A skeleton had reached up through the grating and grasped her leg! She stifled a scream and moved to stamp down on the bones with her free foot. She couldn’t afford to stay still!

A spear of bone slammed into her side, punching straight through her leather gear and biting deep. The impact spun her slightly, a stunned expression on her face, which is when the second took her directly in the gut.

Unbalanced, with a skeleton still locked onto her ankle, she fell, gasping.

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