“Anybody try to get out last night?” Verena asked Robert, the night guard on duty, as she picked up the clipboard hanging by the crypt entrance. She signed her name, rank and affiliation—Initiate of Morana—on the register.

“Nah. It’s been quiet all week.” He answered in a bored tone.

Robert was always friendly and professional enough, but Verena didn’t like him. The middle aged man didn’t blink enough and had an uncomfortable tendency to stare when she walked past. She’d arrived a few minutes late, hoping that the guard would have already changed, but apparently the day shift wasn’t any more punctual than she was.

“Alright,” She answered, “Let’s take a look, then.”

Robert opened the door for her, and she walked into the dark crypt, feeling his eyes follow her until she was swallowed by darkness.

When the door slammed shut, she immediately felt better. Reaching into a pocket, she pulled out her light crystal and began to take inventory. One by one she checked each of the crypt’s current residents, over 400 bodies in total. Centuries ago, the city had outgrown this crypt’s capacity. Back then, bodies had lain here up to 10 years before they were removed.

Today, decay crystals were hung at intervals throughout the crypt to speed up the decomposition process. It had ultimately also reduced the number of bodies lost to damnation, which was a mercy as far as Verana was concerned. After all, she got to see what came up from below on occasion. Now, much of the underground complex lay empty, especially the rooms near the stairwell down into the Deep Paths.

She worked quickly, checking off names on her clipboard as she walked from room to room. Still, the task took nearly an hour.

She had just finished adding a note about some remains that were ready for removal from the crypt when she heard a sound. Voices, echoing up from below. Stepping out of the room she was in, she looked down the corridor toward the stairway entrance. The sound grew slightly louder, but she couldn’t make anything out.

Who would be coming up the stairwell in a group? Initiates were allowed only one prayer, and Verena recited that plea for protection to the Goddess as she went to investigate. Had someone just risen?

–-----

Em stumbled and caught herself on the wall. Charlie helped her right herself and kept half-hauling her up the stairs. She saw his mouth work out of the corner of her eye, but didn’t hear what he said very well. He was out of breath, and her ears still weren’t working right.

“I’m fine.” She answered the assumed question.

His hastily placed charges had worked well enough, bringing down enough rock to block the entrance and covering their escape. Unlike the experienced soldiers, though, she forgot to plug her ears before the explosion went off.

She wasn’t the only one who’d been deafened by the blast, but she had it the worst by far. The injury did something to her sense of balance, and Charlie’s support was invaluable as they climbed up the never-ending stairs in perfect silence. It brought back memories of when their situations were reversed, and she’d hauled Charlie through the tunnels together with Reshid.

Not for the first time, Em wished they’d brought the healer along on the raid.

The stairway led upward in a never-ending and impossibly lopsided counterclockwise spiral. Some parts were completely dark, while others were only dimly lit, with long empty spaces between light crystals. The remaining crystals were spaced evenly, as if they’d been carefully installed once, but now many were missing—probably pried loose by brand new rotters looking for ways to ward off what they would have assumed to be an endless darkness below. The higher they went, the more intermittently the tunnels were lit.

After hours of following the same endless left turn, her hips and knees ached in a way that they hadn’t since her previous life after a hard day of work. It couldn’t be far now, she was sure.

Lieutenant Meuren led the surviving group of soldiers, having survived the battle practically uninjured. Only a score of them had made it, in the end, but they had managed to wipe out the entire enemy camp without breaking. And behind them trudged the freed prisoners—humans, revenants and even two troggs. Em didn’t know what would happen when they reached the surface. The soldiers and the humans could make their report and save Duskhaven, but the rest of them likely wouldn’t simply be allowed to leave the crypt at the end of the stairs.

Letting them out would be illegal. Worse, it would be a direct offense to the gods—not something the priests could simply overlook. If they tried to force their way out, the Guardians would also be obliged to kill them all, meaning that, unless they thought of something soon, they would be stuck in the middle between the lich and the priests.

A light suddenly cut through the darkness ahead as someone stepped into view. Blinded, Em couldn’t see who it might be.

“Hello?” A young woman’s voice echoed down the stairway. She sounded hesitant, but not afraid, and her voice was loud and clear enough for Em to hear despite her injury. “I’m afraid you can’t exit this way. Those who go below are there for a reason.”

The light dimmed to a more manageable level as Lieutenant Meuren stepped forward and blocked her line of sight. “Lieutenant Meuren, Second Expeditionary reporting in.” She said, her voice echoing off the walls with crisp military authority. “Get me the captain of the guard. If you can manage it, get a message to the Temple of Vaclar as well. We’re going to need the Guardians.”

The young woman stood still. “Uh… what?”

“We’re under attack!” Her frayed nerves finally showing through, Lieutenant Meuren took a few steps forward and seized the girl by her shoulder and began hauling her up the corridor. “Come on, raise the alarm!”

“We need a proper priest to authorize our passage out of the crypt, and the guard captain needs to start organizing a defense. We don’t know how much time we have, so hurry and get to the Guardians first. The door guard can get the Captain. Who’s on duty?”

The girl shook “An attack? Who? I mean… Marek should be on guard now unless he still hasn’t arrived.”

Looking back over the ragged-looking group, the girl’s eyes widened.

“Are those ghouls? And what in the Deepest Dark are those?” Her eyes had locked on the two troggs—apparently the first she had ever seen.

“Never mind the troggs.” Lieutenant Meuren barked. “Get moving!”

At the sight of the troggs, the reality of the situation finally seemed to settle on the young priestess. Her eyes snapped back to the older woman, and her lips drew into a line. Then she turned and hustled off without another word, Meuren following right on her heels. The group dutifully followed along behind. Seconds later, they reached the entrance, which the girl wrenched open, revealing a courtyard lit brightly by the early morning sun.

The sight of the open sky through the portal was so beautiful that it hurt to look at.

“You’ll need to stay here until you’re cleared. It should only be a few minutes.” She said, quickly stepping through.

From outside they heard a bewildered male voice ask,“Who are you talking to?”

Then the door slammed shut as the girl closed it in their faces.

–----------

Reshid sat next to Rory and watched as Hasan and the other revenants marched away, heading back toward the village. They would, apparently, do as their new undead overlord commanded, fortifying the place and hoping that Duskhaven’s Guardians solved their lich problem for them in the meantime.

Reshid imagined that Hasan must be planning contingencies as well, but he wasn’t sure. While the attack on the ghoul force had technically been successful—the city would certainly receive warning before Antonius could attack—Hasan and Frederik had miscalculated badly. They thought that, if they moved fast enough, they would be able to escape the lich’s sorcery. Instead, they walked away carrying a mark made of the creature’s essence. Reshid could feel it, almost like a physical object lodged under his skin.

As they disappeared from view, he felt exposed and alone. The villagers weren’t powerful in the grand scheme of things, but they had offered protection, the support of their community and their knowledge in a time and place where Reshid expected nothing but violence and savagery.

He had never really trusted them—especially because of Frederik and the obvious political overtones to what he and Hasan were doing down here—but they were good people. They didn’t hide their intentions or their ambitions, and the help they had offered and given in the past few months was no less real for it.

The emotion surprised Reshid, considering his current predicament. Then again, he thought, even a thin blanket will be sorely missed in winter.

“What do you think are our odds?” Rory asked.

Feane was hovering nearby. Apparently someone had assigned her to keep an eye on them, but she was mostly minding her own business, sharpening a worn-down knife in a stone.

“Hmm?” Reshid answered. “For what?”

“We’re being marched up into an ambush alongside an army of monsters. Between the guardians, the army, the lich, and his crazy minions, what do you think our odds are of making it through alive?”

Reshid grimaced. The lich hadn’t even really been trying to kill him earlier, and that had been a close thing. Geoffrey’s attack before that was something totally different. It hadn’t killed many revenants, but it had been the power of a god. What would happen when there were ten guardians, or twenty? What happened when multiple gods were called upon in concert?

“Not great.”

Rory let out a breath and grimaced, looking tired and older than he was.

It reminded Reshid of another life—another young man facing difficult circumstances. He’d failed that young man and ultimately watched him ride away wearing the same uniform that Rory was wearing now, never to hear from him again.

He took a breath, putting his hand on the man’s shoulder. “That doesn’t mean we can’t do anything to help ourselves. We made it this far, didn’t we? We’ll stay in the back, keep our heads down. Just stick close to me, son. I’ll keep you safe.”