To the Keep in Mystara: Dirge of Tomorrow

Definately not my best work, but entertaining. It lifted my spirits a bit. I’ll work again on the current plot line next writing. For now, I thought this short little story would be fun =)

“To the keep! Everyone to the keep!”

The keep had been the bastion of strength, a safe haven. No fear, nor disease, or pain entered the keep—just sleepless masses. Droves of men and women poured through the city, passing through the gaps in the incomplete wall and threw themselves upon the cobbled stone before the portcullis, begging for entry.

Before the portcullis stood the finished statue of a man mightier than any before him. He held a gauntleted fist, sword in hand, high in the air away from the keep as if ushering those seeking sanctuary within the walls to the battle that waited in the night. The moon reflected the polished glamour of a chest piece plated in bronze, and a head of hair capped subtly in gold. Below the statue his men stood vigil over the city, patient and righteous. They had fought for three nights, returning each morning to a city which continually grew to ruin.

Hundreds of the soldiers stood mute in the night, their swords drawn and shields raised as they began to descend the incline leading up to the keep back into the city below. Waves of citizens passed through and between their ranks—some weighed down with possessions, others running with little more than the clothes on their backs. A man behind them took off his helmet and slung it under his arm, cupping his hands to the side of his mouth to bark an order, “Halt!”

In unison the men came to a halt and stood to the side, allowing the last of the citizens between them into the safety of the keep. The officer strode past the people and hooked his arm around the study leg of the statue hovering above them.

“Fear not the shells of your brothers and sisters—for they no longer rest under the grace of our Immortals! Tonight the only rest they seek will be granted by our blades alone! Fear not your loved ones, but deliver them from undeath!”

The men raised their swords high, shouting their threats into the burning city below. Ash had lifted to the wind and began to fall on them all—a dark snow in this, the dead of winter. From her vantage, she could see it all, even hear the words of the men as they listened to their commander bolster their spirits before they descended back into the city for a third night.

Some of them whispered quietly of their lord’s death, others attempted to bolster their comrades’ spirits just as their commander had—offering a shred of hope to a situation wrought with fear. After three nights, Erela had heard more stories than she could stomach. Yet she leaned upon her staff this evening as she had all the others, seeking the only sanctuary she could find in the city under the dutiful gaze of Halav.

Three nights the city’s sick had risen and for three nights had laid silent siege against the living. The plague had found Korburg just as it had every other city across Karameikos, likely every city in Brun she suspected. Those who entered the keep had the look of madness about them. Everyone had known someone who was touched by the contagion. Husbands, wives, even children—any and all rose from their death in the night and struck dead their former loved ones. Over three hundred had died so far, many of them losses of the legion of troops which watched over the safety of the city.

Across the city Erela could see the lights of the other half of the troops guarding the school—the other spot of safety in the city. Few expected such a hard fought battle. No one suspected the weak and sick would rise so soon, and with such hunger and loathing in their hearts. She had found safety in the walls of the keep for three days now, often retreating past those areas left unguarded and into his room. There she looked desperately for ways to contact him. She had exhausted every option, but had refused to believe the rumors of his death. She had begun to look to the skies, expecting him to return any moment, to save them from the plight that had befallen the city. Three long nights had passed in blood with no sign.

Bodies lay littered among the streets below, ghastly reminders of the roaming death waiting in each shadow—experienced enemies that hid in the alleys and waited in each house. Occasionally the pale white of their rotting bodies could be seen in the light of lanterns scattered and burning in the abandoned city at night, moving between buildings and filling the night with screams in their wake.

The men lurched forward, the commander having finished the rest of his speech that he had given two nights prior. Below she could see the bodies in the streets begin to move, picking themselves up and standing en masse to meet the line of soldiers that spread out past the keep and school. Under her breath she whispered a quiet prayer for their safety. She did not envy the fight these men walked head-long in to. She feared the dead that would rise up in their place. The army, no matter how great the victory, continually lost each day as the more rose to replace those who fell in the nights prior.

Now just feet away from engagement other creatures began to emerge from the alleys, rushing in from the flanks to attack the massed troops in the city below. The men screamed alerts to each other and scattered in rank, engaging the enemy from all sides. Seconds later a thunderous roar echoed over the city, adding to the screams of battle that ensued. Those standing on the hill overlooking the engagement felt a mighty gust of wind that blew high into the air the ash that had settled around them. Covering her eyes with her cloak Erela squinted past the airborne debris, catching a glimpse of a dark figure brush overhead, a flash of gold soaring towards the battle in the streets.

Fire erupted from the beast’s mouth as the night-cloaked figure swooped low past the ranks of the soldiers and across the gathered undead. The screams of the creatures filled the night as they ran, trying to avoid the fire. A second later the dragon had tipped a wing over the battlefield and the figure mounted atop jumped free, landing among the men engaged in battle. The around him glowed with a crackling red aura as he pulled free a glowing white blade and screamed an unheard command to the men around him.

The sound of battle could no longer be heard next to the cheers of joy rising up from the streets.

Erela’s heart had skipped a beat.

Lord Korrelin had returned.