Heart of Bronze

Athestan crested the hill and beheld the valley below him. A wide river meandering through it, bordered on both sides with hundreds of whitewash buildings. He could almost make out the town square even at this distance, where the sea of roofs separated into an open courtyard. On the far side of the river another hill rose, an impressive stone and timber keep perched atop it. The largest castle in the whole barony they said, and even from this distance it certainly seemed to live up to its reputation. The grand city of Karanth. 4 months ago it would have been an idyllic scene.

Unfortunately all Athestan saw now was decay. The farmland over to the west had all run fallow. The foliage had started to reclaim it’s share of the land, runners starting to grow on the walls of the cottages and sprouting up through the unused roads leading up to the city. It looked as though a fire had broken out over at what he assumed was the artisan quarter, blackening a number of buildings along the riverside. The usual sounds of a bustling city were absent. The town had the tranquility of a haunted forest.

After a long moment surveying the valley he sighed and started moving towards a nearby copse of trees. Once he was in cover, he found a log to sit on and stretched out with a barely suppressed groan. It had been a long trek to the city and his knees seemed to be trying to punish him for the offence.

Once he had recovered a bit he removed his travel pack. He wouldn’t need most of it in there, and he needed to move light now. The few things he did keep included the empty waterproof bags he strapped across his chest, along with his mace and buckler. The mace was a masterwork of engineering. About 2 feet of steel ending in a bulbous head, well maintained and perfectly weighted. However what made it truly impressive were the spikes of pure silver jutting out from the head in all directions.

Once he felt he was ready to proceed he reached to his neck and pulled out the charm once more and stared at it swinging from his fingers. It was a small bronze replica of a human heart, with a dozen small holes drilled into the front, hanging from a pure silver chain. It was hollow, but he wasn’t entirely sure if what was inside were herbs or minerals. Either way it was the reason this whole operation was possible he’d been told, he just hoped it would actually work.

With that thought Athestan stood and turned his face to the tree canopy, eyes closed and breathing deeply. He repressed the feeling of panic that was trying to break free, his body shivering as he exhaled. There was a great treasure in the keep across the way, and he aimed to walk out with it alive.

It took him about half an hour to reach the outskirts of the town, moving slowly through an overgrown field until it gave way to closely packed buildings. There was no sign of any inhabitants, only some dark stains on the overgrown streets. He had to get across the river, but avoiding the main road seemed like the best strategy, though he couldn’t be sure if they would think to actively monitor it. Did they even think? He shook away the notion with another shiver.

As he crept through the abandoned buildings he could see official notices pinned all over many of the walls emblazoned with the wax seal of the baron, faded now after months in the elements. They warned the populace to be vigilant, to keep a watch for any sign of the decrepancy. A quaint notion it seemed to him now, an almost innocent hopefulness from a people unaware of the horrors to come.

Eventually he emerged from between a couple of houses to see the river bank, the main bridge just ahead. What unnerved him the most was that he had yet to see or hear any movement. The city seemed completely abandoned. He sat and watched the bridge and the far bank for some minutes, eyes flitting every which way, examining every window, every dark crevice. It seemed fine.

He breathed deeply then ran for the bridge and straight across it, keeping as low and quiet as he could. He ran straight past the tavern on the other side of the river and up the street before ducking into a tight alley, hand gripped tightly around his mace in case it was needed. The alley was dark, dingy and as empty as the streets. Athestan let out a breath, not knowing he had even been holding it, then started uncontrollably panting. As he was catching his breath, he started getting a little concerned at the easy time he was having. Surely he should have run into some resistance by now? He’d heard Karanth had been completely overrun.

Atheston quickly peeked back out onto the road he had come from, then satisfied he had not disturbed anything decided to continue down that road. It seemed to be the most direct path to the keep. Slinking along the road along one wall he noticed more warnings posted, though more of these seemed to be damaged and there were more dark stains on the road and the walls. He was actively trying to ignore the shape of some of these stains when the road gave way to an open marketplace with a good view of the keep up the hill, and also of a Seed Shrine in the middle of the square.

It was a tall structure made of interlocking bones, held together by flesh and ligaments stretched between each structural point. At the base was a ring of skulls, half submerged in a puddle of necrotic tissue that was leaking away in a grid pattern between the cobblestones. It was some ten feet high by now, probably assembled from about a dozen of the Risen. At its highest point was the remains of a human face, flesh stretched taught, eyes glowing a dull orange like the embers of a dying fire. To Athestans horror the face turned to look directly at him, its eyes flaring.

He quickly retreated back behind the corner and flattened himself against the wall.

“Stupid. Stupid.” He berated himself. He’d allowed himself to grow complacent.

He heard a light pop and sizzle, and suddenly there was a fine smoke licking the air in front of his eyes. He looked down and saw the wispy cloud was seeping from his locket. Good news. Bad news. At least this was a sign that the charm was working and his protection was active. However this meant the shrine had been activated, he had been detected and the spell would be trying to get it’s hold over him even now. He had about 2 hours left before the charm ran through its store of reagents.

He heard something coming from the market square. It was like the rumble of thunder, a sound he didn’t hear so much as felt. The Shrine had awoken, the Risen would not be far. There was no time for stealth now, he had to get out of here. He circled around the market, running as fast as he could. There were soft thumps and dragging sounds coming from inside the buildings surrounding him. As he reached the path leading up the hill he realised why the other side of the river had seemed so abandoned. Obviously during the initial flood, the survivors had all crossed the river and attempted to take refuge in the keep. From the evidence, they had been met with stern opposition to that idea. Various bundles and items were scattered on the hill on the main approach to the gate, along with hundreds of arrow shafts sticking from the ground. The earth was scorched in places, evidence of alchemist’s breath. Bodies were scattered among the belongings. The gate had been destroyed, now a mess of splinted wood. Once he had reached it he slipped through and took a moment to breath.

“Once at the keep, follow the palisade around to the right.” Zusan had told him. “That will take you to the servants quarters.” He pictured the map of the keep she had shown him back at the camp, and made his way to the back entrance.

It was dark in the keep with no one around to maintain the candles. It had taken a few minutes for his eyes to adjust as he proceeded through the servants quarters towards his destination. He opened the door, stepped through and stopped dead. It was a huge kitchen with 4 massive fireplaces, shelves lining one wall and a huge mess of pots and utensils scattered all over the floor. There was also a Risen standing in the middle of the room.

Sensing the movement from the doorway it turned to face Athestan, eyes smouldering. The cold dark of the keep interior had not done well to preserve the body, it was more skeleton than person now. With only a moments hesitation the Risen registered Athestan as a threat and moved towards him, a screech rising from the remains of its throat. He readied his mace, taking a downward swing as soon as it was close enough. The Risen brought its boney arm up into the maces path, colliding with the steel haft. It felt like striking solid stone and the mace bounced back, throwing Athestan off balance. The Risen reached out in a swiping motion and Atheston only just managed to throw his left arm up in time, catching the blow on his buckler. It still felt like being beaten by a blacksmith’s hammer and he fell to one knee. From his lower position he swept out again with the mace, striking true this time. The silver spikes sank deep into the exposed tibia, shattering it like ice and taking off the lower leg, toppling the monster to the ground. Rather than seem surprised though, it immediately started crawling towards him. He deftly stood up and jumped backwards, before swinging the mace down onto its head, crushing the skull. The Risen immediately went slack, the ember glow slowly fading from its eyes.

Athestan suppressed a wave of nausea as both the sight of the rotting corpse and his close brush with death coursed through him. Breathing hard, he quickly scanned the room for more threats before noticing the door on the far side of the room. With no time to waste he rushed over to it, pushed it open and beheld the stairs leading down into yet deeper darkness. He lit one of the candles from the shelf by the door and proceeded downwards, apprehension and excitement building as he could feel himself getting close. He eventually emerged into a room, underground by the feel of the air, and gasped in delight.

All around him was a vast collection of dried and preserved food. Dried meats hanging from hooks, root vegetables, grains, nuts and even spices in one corner. Even better were the shelves full of seeds, enough to last his encampment for years. He rummaged through the supplies, taking a variety of the least perishable items, until he saw them. He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry, so he managed both. He had found them. Magisters Lily seeds. These were the key to their survival, a rare and magical healing herb. Not something you would find in a peasant farmers storeroom. Zusan would know how to cultivate and use them.

After grabbing all he could, Athestan turned back towards the stairs and prepared to make his way back up. However just as he began, he heard a chilling screech from somewhere above him. He sighed, gripped his mace tightly, a proceeded upward. The group was relying on him, it was time to get out.