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Hall of the Dead Pt. 3

Submitted by Char on Sat, 10/31/2009 - 11:07pm

As we stand at the base of the grand staircase leading to the fifth floor, a thin trickle of blood cascades down the steps. We watch, silent, as the crimson beads hesitate at the lip of the last step. One fat bead finally plops down, followed by a few more in rapid succession, until it's coming down in a steady trickle.

"That's, uh... that's a lot of blood."

Gerude gives Erynn one of the most exasperated looks I've ever seen an Armed toss a Poet's way. It's rather reminiscent of the ones I see Jhe h'Akribastes level at Jhe h'Logos when my King is being particularly helpful. Erynn raises his eyebrows and shrugs. "What? It is."

"How many are up there?" I ask, heading off any lovers spat before it has a chance to start. Gerude gets that typical pinched look on his face as he consults his Arms, then shakes his head.

"The boys aren't sure. Jorhhem, Kalel, and Terrilarsta have all gone silent, and..." Gerude swallows, his face freezing in a forced lack of expression that carries shades of his Father. "And Diyn seems to have disappeared."

Shock runs through me in ice-barbed waves. I force myself to breathe evenly. "Is it possible that your Arms are being prevented from communicating by some outside force?" It takes effort not to glare at Erynn.

Gerude blinks. "I suppose it's possible. I've never heard of it, but it's possible."

I grunt, and shift Jaxie in my arms. Kid's getting a little heavy. "I suppose there's nothing we can really do than get up to Jhe h'Logos's suite and hole up there until help comes." I'd bet my life's earnings on the four of us simultaneously thinking of the thick enchanted doors that guard Jhe h'Logos's suite.

"We're gonna see Jhe h'Lete?" Jaxie blurts. I grin. Seems Stevane's little nickname is catching. I bet she'll be pissed when she finds out -- she's funny about things like that. If she finds out... no. We'll get up there and Jhe h'Logos will straighten out the mess this wayward script of Erynn's has become and everything will be just fine. I nod to myself, shift Jaxie into a better position once again, and set my mental pen firmly in hand.

I've gone up four steps before I hear the others start to move. "Jhe Edward," Gerude says from just behind me, "perhaps I should go first? Unless you were planning on throwing Jax at them."

I swear I'd knock that punk back down the steps if it weren't so important to keep the one person amongst us who actually has weapons around. I force down my bile, nod, and let him go in front of me. I hear whispering behind me, and glance back. Erynn is leading Jhe Averseen up the stairs by the hand, and she's muttering under her breath. I feel the slight current of Poetry and relax just a hair. Jhe Averseen is a quick student, and pretty fast under pressure. She'll make a wonderful Poet, once Jhe Milligan gets around to giving her a proper trial.

Loud groans at the top of the stairs distract me from questioning my comrade's competence. In a spectacular show of literary cliche, Jhe Michael Milligan is in fact at the top of the stairs, groaning and waving his one remaining stump of an arm. It's almost enough to make me donkey-kick my braindead trainee back down the steps.

Gerude takes aim and shoots, his Arms raising almost casually as he picks off Jhe Milligan in two shots. The ex-professor's body buckles under the assault, lingering on the edge of the top step before flopping forward and tumbling down the stairs like a doll. I shield Jax's face, trying not to let him see the slaughter - but I wonder how much I can really protect him from that here. There are three groans now, each distinct. They sound hungry, almost pleading. We can't see the sources yet, as we've stopped at the middle of the stairs. Gerude's inching his way forward, but what's on his mind is probably what's on mine - that we can't tell what's at the top of those stairs, and it's most likely an ambush.

As if to mock me, three dead shamble around the foot of the stairs. They stand there, waiting, staring. Gerude risks a glance down before looking back up the stairs again.

"They're acting different now," I say. "Like they're calculating."

"Jhe Gaston almost seemed like he was thinking - is it really so strange?" Gerude's voice has an odd sulk to it. I wonder how he's coping with all of this. Most of his kind are probably dead now, and if his Father is dead... who will bring anyone back?

"They attacked on sight before. This is out of the ordinary." I swallow. "It could all be a trap."

They get the impression that we're not going any farther, I suppose, because the ones at the bottom begin to ascend the stairs. It's only now that I really recognize them. Their faces have decayed so much that there's not much left to associate an identity with. Really, I almost wish I didn't recognize them. If they were just generic faces in a crowd, I wouldn't have to think of them as having once been people.

Jhe Gerude snorts, and while keeping his eyes and one gun Aimed at the top of the stairs he Aims the other gun blindly behind him. The first shot is casual, almost playing, but it makes Jhe Escobedo's head explode in a flurry of mush and bone. Jhe Lerner goes down just as easily. Jhe Lauryl Blackirons just stares up curiously at us, possibly contemplating the sound of Jhe Lerner's teeth raining down around her. Then the next bullet takes her down as well. She lets out a squeaking gurgle of a hiccup before the end. I wonder for a moment if Jhe Lauryl's a relative of Erynn's, but the Blackirons are such a widespread family that there's just no telling. Someone's grandma must have had a lot of fun in her time.

Jhe Averseen is breathing in short, gasping breaths. Erynn's patting her arm, soothing her. The second shot almost took her in the hip. "Your Aim is quite accurate," I say to Gerude. My hand's still clamped over Jaxie's eyes. My baby brother just cuddles closer to my neck. Maybe he thinks it's all a game. Wouldn't it be for the best?

"Daddy never raised a fool of a shot. Well, there was Lyric--" Gerude chokes up a bit. Jhe Lyric? He doesn't stay in the Poet Hall... but he does live in Jhe h'Akribastes's home. "I'm sure Lute's watching him," says Gerude under his breath. "Tell me if any more start coming. I need to concentrate. I'm countin'."

Gerude's face pinches in that distinct look of 'I'm talking to a pair of assholes that think they're always right and call themselves my Arms'. He's also doing math under his breath. Then he speaks more clearly. "Hey. Erynn."

Erynn looks up. "Yeah, 'Rude?"

Gerude tosses one of his pistols to Erynn, who lets out a squeak and almost drops the thing. I hear a weird clicking noise, and then Gerude snaps, "Caerig! You know he's a friend, stop it." He grins at Erynn, then quickly turns his head back to the top of the stairs. "He's just a joker, he wouldn't shoot you for real. Now, try to keep him pointed at the back of our group, okay? I can't guarantee that a shot from the front wouldn't hit any of you before taking out attackers in the bac--"

POW! The gun in Erynn's hands explodes with fury, and then another bloody mass of flesh falls in a heap at the bottom of the stairs.

"Yeah, like that. Pretty simple. Caerig knows how to shoot so you don't have to. Best not to even think about it, ya stupid Poet. Just be glad he knows you," Gerude scowls. He glances at me once before saying, "He wouldn't let just any jackass hold him."

I brush his words off with a slight shrug. "Pretty intelligent of them."

The next target appears at the top of the stairs, distracting Gerude from making any rejoinder. Jaxie buries his face in my neck, his hands clamped down over his ears. "Too loud! Too loud!" I can barely make out his plaintive wails over the thunder. I pat his back and use one hand to help cover his left ear. I watch as one, then two, then five appear at the top of the stairs. Gerude picks them off almost as fast as they appear, but the flood grows, and they begin to edge down the stairs. Jhe Averseen shrieks and backs into me, nearly knocking me off-balance. Jaxie wails, the guns' roaring quickens into a near-staccato... how are they even still firing? Neither have reloaded.

Erynn curses and comes up a couple of steps. I turn, and grunt in satisfaction. The flood behind us is finally slowing. I look up, and see Jhe Oda leap from the top of the stairs. She looks remarkably intact for a corpse, which makes Gerude's hesitation to fire completely understandable. Erynn and Caerig seem to have no such reservations; I feel the heat from Caerig's discharge, and half of Jhe Oda's head vaporizes. She tumbles, hitting the stairs just behind Gerude, and rolls past Erynn. Caerig fires twice, and her head is completely gone. One hand lies severed in the puddle of ruined flesh. Erynn steps down and gingerly picks it up, turning and dropping it into the bag of remains. Gerude glances back, and Erynn nods. "Sorry, man."

Gerude grimaces. "No, I froze. I..." His lips flatten. "Let's just get through this and get her... them back, OK?" His arm whips up and fires blind, and another corpse drops.

"Yeah, OK." Erynn looks behind us, which is now mercifully empty of moving targets. "How do you think..." BANG! "... we're going to... " BANG! "... get past that?"

I'm drawing a blank, and from the looks on the other three's faces, we're a little understocked on ideas. I open my mouth, and so does Jhe Averseen, her eyes bulging. She lets out a hoarse scream, the front of her clothing suddenly soaked in blood, and collapses.

Standing in her place is a tiny, pale corpse, almost ghostlike in presence. She looks at the entrails in her hand, takes a delicate bite, and then looks up and grins. My entire body turns to ice.

Jhe Julia Wysthaven.

She grins and crouches. I hear one of the guns fire, but it's in the wrong damn direction, and I'm going to die right here on this damned stair --

The back of her head disappears, and I would swear on the soul of my mother that she looked really damned surprised at the sneak attack.

I hazard a glance, and both of the guns are pointed in the wrong fucking direction. They're firing away up the stairs, and I know their reaction makes it physically impossible to turn, fire, and turn again in that short span of time. Poetry? It must be Poetry... but it wasn't mine. My heart speeds up. Jhe h'Logos must be helping! Either that or Erynn... no. If Erynn had that much control, he wouldn't have lost control of this wretched excuse for an exercise like this.

Jaxie lifts his head, and I tuck it back against my neck. "Don't look yet," I warn him, my voice likely a little harsher than necessary. He nods, his face still tucked away. I can't watch the top of the stairs without having him be able to see Jhe Averseen's remains.

The gunfire is speeding up again in frequency. The trickle of blood has grown to several streams, the noxious coppery smell filling the air. The flood is growing again, new bodies appearing faster than both guns together can take down. Gerude is obviously coming to the same conclusion - he keeps glancing back, taking measured steps back down the staircase.

Erynn jumps as his foot comes down on Jhe Averseen. He looks down, his eyes widening in horror. "Bronwyn?"

"Focus, asshole!" Gerude shouts. "Or I'll fucking shoot you right now!"

Erynn looks away, bringing Caerig back to bearing. Instead of firing, he swivels again, just as I catch a blur of motion on the edge of my vision.

He's too late. Jhe Averseen's teeth sink into his ankle a spare moment before he blows her head off. Her jaw hangs a moment longer, then falls down a couple of steps with a few dull knocks.

Caerig and Kennit immediately Aim at his head. Erynn mouths something, and for some reason, the guns swing away. Gerude gets that crunched look again, then his face goes slack with shock. "Are you sure?"

Erynn nods, his face already ghastly pale. "I'm sure, man. We're sure."

Gerude closes his eyes and nods. "Go."

My trainee draws a deep breath, tightens his grip on Caerig, and runs up the stairs, disappearing into the thick crowd of undead. He disappears quickly, and in his wake they turn to face the direction he's gone. There's a moment where the ones closest to us just stand there, and I hear a single muffled scream, and then the air rips in a thunderous explosion.

The force of it knocks me and Gerude backwards. I bounce painfully against the steps as I curl around Jaxie, protecting him from the tumble. As soon as I land, I uncurl again, looking around. Gerude is already rising, pistol held at ready, his face tight.

The floor above us is silent. Perfect silence.

By all rights, this should be over now. Erynn's dead. My trainee, who I mentored and groomed for years, who I coached and coddled, molded and urged forward, is dead from his trial. It happens, sometimes. We all know it happens.

It's never happened like this before.

I can't move. I can't even walk. There's no sound, anywhere, and I think that's fitting. An absence of sound, for the one who's been silenced.

Gerude curses, then chokes, hunching over again. He grasps his face, possibly to hide something that's showing on it. I can't imagine what he could be feeling right now. He's just lost one of his Arms. I've never heard directly of one self-destructing like that, though I've heard through the grapevine of a few trainees dispatching themselves instead of taming their Arms. By all rights, they're pieces of the traineees themselves, little seeds of the soul. It must be like losing a limb. Or a piece of his heart.

He looks at me, eyes glistening. He's trying not to cry, and doing, considering his situation, a fair job. "Erynn did what he could. Let's go," he says. I nod, check to make sure Jaxie's okay, and then I follow Gerude up the steps.

The Armed is tense, poised like a hawk at the top of the stairs. He doesn't take a step further. I realize why when I reach the top and survey the room up here.

The sixth and uppermost floor of the Poet Hall is mostly for the King himself, though there's also an audience chamber outside his suite. It's for recitals and lectures and whatever other sort of occasion might call for a great indoor gathering of trainees and teachers alike. There's a gallery as well, holding some permanent exhibits and also some rotating ones. It's a prize workmanship of stately marble and granite, a tasteful, subdued, and somehow still grand backdrop to showcase the art and works of the Poets against. The only room bigger than this in the Poet Hall is the Library, and it takes up a complex of its own that's so massive that I can't really count it as a room.

Everything up here is in ruins. I thought I saw blood before. I thought I saw bodies before. This goes far beyond what I have already seen tonight. The blood that ran down the stairs is from the massive pools of it that are up here. It seems to be welling up from the very floor itself.

There's no sign of Erynn at all. No sign of Caerig. They both did their last job well. I will give this to my trainee - he failed wondrously, almost beautifully. It's almost more profound in its horror than if he would have succeeded in his exercise.

Gerude motions for me to stay here a moment as he scans the room, Arms held out in front of him. Nothing among the severed limbs and jellied corpses is moving--

BANG!

--except for what once might have been Jhe Choras. Hopefully she is the last of her kind up here. Gerude walks forward to ensure that, and then motions forward for me to follow behind.

It seemed quiet up here before. Now, the silence is loud. It could be the pulse thundering in my ears, the crushing sound of blood slushing through my own brain. It's enough pressure to squeeze my own eyeballs just a little bit with every heartbeat. Thoughts themselves have their own sounds, like shouts echoing down a tunnel. Outside of my head, there's the soft wet sound of Jaxie sucking on his thumb, the splish-splish our feet make as we slush through blood, guts, and I care not to know what else, and the dripping. The dripping is everywhere. The blood is everywhere.

It feels like there's not another human being besides Gerude and I alive in this world, and that could just very well be the truth. Still, I look toward the thick double doors that enter into Jhe h'Logos's suite. If there's anyone else left alive, they could be in there. We make our way towards it.

Something keeps nagging in the back of my mind. Some niggling worry, as if I might have forgotten something very important. I brush it off when we reach the huge, thick doors. We're here. We just might be able to rest now. I hoist Jaxie up on my hip, where he's been sliding down. He's been getting heavier as I've had to carry him longer.

Gerude puts his hand on the door, feeling the wood. His face pinches up again, though the expression's different now. With just one gun, he'll never commune the same way with his Arms again. He whispers something inaudible, then nods. He looks at me. "My Arms say we should go in. Jhe h'Logos responded to him when Kennit inquired."

He raises his gun, then raps the butt of it against the door to knock. In reply, there's a loud clap of iron against wood. Then, following the smooth whisper of machinery and magic unseen, the bolts release and the doors creak inward.

Something's still nagging me, but it's time to go inside. Gerude walks in first, and I follow.

* * *