The Darkness That Hunts
Chapter 23

“Looks like there’s a trapdoorahead. Think we’re finally at the end,” announces Dace, who has taken the leadsince he sees better in the dark than any of us. I peer over his shoulder andmake out what appears to be a ladder secured to the wall by rotted rope thatloops around two metal hooks. Zakk’s witchlight curls up the ladder’s rungs toreveal a square hatch chiseled from the low ceiling. Beyond the ladder thetunnel has collapsed in on itself--a dead end.

Dace scampers up the wornrungs like a squirrel. He taps the hatch, testing the weight holding it closed.I then hear him grunt as he sets his shoulder along the door and pushes againstit. It takes a few tries but the trapdoor flips open.

Dirt rains down on us anddust chokes the air. I cough and cover my mouth. My throat burns and my eyeswater. Dry, foul air flares out from the open hatch and contaminates the tunnelwith noxious fumes. Once the dust settles, Dace’s head disappears into thesquare of darkness. He gives the signal that it’s clear and disappears. Ifollow next and the rungs’ splintered wood scrapes my palms. There is a momentof blinding darkness and then I feel Dace’s small hand gripping my elbow and Istumble inside a room so dim it’s little better than the hole I crawled upthrough. It appears to be round with strange rectangular recesses chiseled intothe wall and stuffed with lumpy shrouds. I squint, trying to make out whatcould possibly be stored here but the gloom is too thick.

Zakk is the last through andI hear a whispered word. One of his tattoos glimmers on his skin and anotherglobe of light flares to life. My breath catches as the chamber blossoms tosharp relief. Stacked floor to ceiling in the rectangular alcoves are perfectlypreserved bodies like Egyptian mummies; females on one side, male on the other.They are dressed like warriors snatched from different time periods. Irecognize a helmet of a samurai covering a female mummy. A naginata much likeZakk’s rests in her folded hands. Another corpse has dry golden hair that flowsover broad masculine shoulders and Viking-style regalia. Yet another mummy isadorned in the tribal vestments of an ancient West African warrior. Aside fromthe trap door in the floor, there doesn’t appear to be an exit.

“What is this place?” Kamwhispers. He crouches at the lowest level and stares at a mummy wearing desertcamouflage. It grips a dagger in its right hand, and an assault rifle in its left.

The butt of Zakk’s naginatathumps as he circles the burial chamber. He gives a cursory glance to thebodies but most of his focus follows a strange pattern etched into the polishedmarble floor. I lift my foot to uncover some kind of stylized writing and tinystrips of what looks to be charred paper.

“If I had to hazard aguess,” Zakk begins cautiously, “I’d say this barrow is a resurrection sanctumand those bodies are--”

Dace shrieks and there is ascuffle of movement to my far right. I whirl to replace one of the mummies, thisone a Maori warrior, has its hand locked around Dace’s left wrist. A blackcloud engulfs Dace’s hand all the way up his forearm. He struggles against thecorpse’s grip but can’t seem to break its hold.

To my horror, the longer themummy holds Dace, the more animated it becomes. Dark curly hair rustles as itturns its head toward its prey. Its eyelids part to reveal a black abyss, agaze empty of all emotion except unending hunger.

Dace collapses and whimpers.I wonder why he doesn’t reach for his chakram. I wonder why I can’t seem tomove. Why Kamiron, who is the closest, isn’t at his friend’s side.

A series of deep groans echoinside the burial chamber and the Maori warrior starts to tremble. I feel achill, sharp and swift, uncoil within the confines of the resurrection sanctumand the mummy at my side, the samurai woman, begins to twitch. Other bodiesshake and a tremor causes the strange markings on the floor to rattle andquiver.

“Shari--do something!” Zakkgasps. Numerous tattoos spark in response to the power flaring across thechamber, lighting up Zakk’s skin beneath his aketon.

“What am I supposed to do?”

The naginata falls to theground as the corpse of the samurai sits up as much as the low ceiling of thealcove will allow. Dace wheezes and his eyelids flutter as he battles to remainconscious. The black cloud has crawled up to his elbow. The Maori has asandaled foot on the ground.

I yank an arrow from theair. It pulsates a russet orange. Just holding it in my hand seems to break myparalysis and I charge the Maori, intending to stab the arrow into its hand andforce it to release Dace, but as soon as my arrow plunges into the mummy’swrist, a brief arc of energy severs the hand from the rest of the body.

The Maori does not registerany pain, but the fathomless eyes turn to me and I replace the abyss waiting.Hunger, endless, all-consuming. Its sense of awareness sharpens and the Maoridrags itself from its alcove.

Its severed hand is stilllocked around Dace whose complexion has turned an alarming shade of green. Do Iprotect myself from the Maori’s impending attack, or get that hand off Dace?

I adjust my grip on my arrowand stab the hand leeching the life from Dace. To my surprise, the arrow sinksinto the rogue hand and disappears like I’ve dropped it in quicksand. There isno burst of light, no arcane animation. The hand just falls to the ground nearthe Maori’s feet. The undead warrior staggers back as if it has received ablow. I don’t question its reaction. Digging my fingers into Dace’s collar, Idrag him towards the center of the room where Zakk stands.

Metal clashes against metalas Kamiron deflects the blow of the Marine’s dagger. It uses its dagger slowly,but each attack is precise and backed by preternatural strength. It doesn’tfire the assault rifle, can’t seem to recall how, but instead uses it like a cudgel.

Kam holds his own againsthis adversary, but his eyes can’t help but dart to the mummies closing in onus. Their slackened features and empty black eyes lock on us with steadfast purpose.I feel their hunger clawing at me; hunger and an aching loneliness that mustconsume in order to be satiated. A well of emotions swells around me and Istagger beneath the tremendous onslaught.

Hunger, emptiness.

Anger, regret.

Desire, jealousy.

Vitality, need.

Hunger.

“Shari, stop it! Why areyou--” Kamiron is forced to parry the spear thrust from the African warrior andblock the butt of the Marine’s assault rifle. I glance down, startled to replacemyself on my knees, muttering about hunger and clawing at the floor like a madwoman. My nails are broken and streaks of blood mar the floor.

Zakk’s tattoos flash andcrackle and I realize he’s been chanting some kind of spell. Fear makes hishazel eyes wide and voice tremble but then he spots me, or more precisely thebloody spot where I tried to gouge the marble floor. Zakk shifts, nudging measide with his foot. A flash of movement and he’s cut his palm on his naginataand he crouches, smearing his blood on top of mine. Beneath his fingers, a wordetched into the ground glows a coagulated yellow and I’m finally able tounderstand the cantrip Zakk’s been chanting. His voice, pitched low andsoothing, as if he hums a lullaby to an upset, wailing baby, recites:

“Sleep, sleep my warriors ofold

Sleep and let time unfold.

Let darkness surround you,

Let peaceful rest bind you,

Sleep, sleep noble fightersof old.”

Our adversaries stopmid-stride. The tide of hunger and loneliness I sensed a moment before ebbs.Joints crack, feet shuffle and weapons scrape the marble as the mummies climbback into their alcoves. The chill of undeath slithers across our ankles andthen sinks back into the floor. Around us all falls still. The corpses lookexactly as they did when we first entered.

Except the Maori warrior’shand still rests on the ground.

Fatigue takes over and Zakkcollapses. Kamiron’s sledgehammer clatters to the ground. I press my cheekagainst the cool marble and wait for my heart to settle. For a moment all wecan do is lie there and listen to Dace’s semiconscious whimpers bounce off theresurrection sanctum’s domed ceiling. Adrenaline leaks out of my split andruined fingernails but any pain from my injuries is oddly muted. I can’t decidewhether or not that’s comforting.

Eventually strength returnsand my heart starts to beat normally. I don’t trust myself enough to stand so Icrawl over to Dace. A black handprint festers across his wrist. His complexionis no longer green, but the blood hasn’t returned and his lips are as blue asfrost.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“The revenant ate some ofhis life force,” Zakk answers. He winces and uses his naginata to rise. “Ican’t heal that. Nothing but time and rest can restore what was stolen.”

Kam reaches out a hand tohelp me to my feet. “Neither of which we can afford.”

Zakk grunts in acquiesce andsquats. With a practiced hand he reaches out as if to gently prod Dace awake,but instead slaps the glasses off Dace’s face. I wince at the sound. Dace’seyes flutter open. His skewed frames dangle off his nose. It’d be comical ifnot for the deep bruises under Dace’s eyes and the haunted cast to his gaze.

“Wha . . .?”

Zakk’s lips thin into a grimline and I realize my ordinarily mild-mannered friend is furious. “You’re anidiot, you know that? You almost got us killed!”

Zakk shoves him and Dacerecoils. I move to stop them but Kam places a hand on my shoulder. “He keeps itin too much. He needs to let it out,” he whispers.

“I didn’t mean to,” Dacedefends. “How was I to know--?”

“--Not to touch some dead guylaying in a mysterious burial chamber?” Zakk doesn’t yell but his voice is likethe crack of a bullwhip. The painful sting of a dozen hornets digs into my skin.I swat at my arms as if that will stop the phantom insects’ bites. FromKamiron’s flinches, I take it he feels them too.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?”Dace adjusts his crooked glasses and then stares at the black handprint on hiswrist and then at the Maori’s severed hand.

“Yeah--serves you right. Hetook a pretty big chunk out of you and you’ll just have to deal with the painand weakness.”

In the blink of an eye, oneof Dace’s chakram leaps to his hand and blue flames sizzle along the curvedblade. Dace flicks his wrist and the chakram arcs towards the hand. In secondsthe appendage is black ash and the chakram is speeding back.

“You done, Gandalf?” Dace’svoice is cold as he returns his weapon to its holster but I sense the deepfatigue behind his gruff manner.

“Not yet.” Zakk paces theresurrection chamber, the butt of his naginata stabbing the floor. “Whatpossessed you to be so stupid?”

Dace’s gaze drifts to theMaori. Its looks peaceful in its rest, but I can’t help the shudder that goesthrough me when I remember its ravenous emptiness.

“It’s wearing a shark toothnecklace.”

I spot it at the Maori’sthroat. A polished tooth nestled by a faded leather cord. My stomach clenchesand I can understand Zakk’s anger. “You risked our lives for a necklace?” I shriek. Kamiron’s fingersdig into my shoulder in firm reproach.

Dace stares at the necklaceas if committing it to memory. His throat works but no sound comes out.

“It looks like hers, doesn’tit?” Kamiron whispers.

Dace dips his chin. “I sawit and I just remembered . . . how much she loved that thing. It was a cheapgimmicky trinket, you know from a tourist shop when we . . .” His throat worksagain. “I just had to buy it for her. I think she liked it so much because itcame from me.”

The stinging hornets stopstabbing my arms and Zakk’s anger burns itself out as abruptly as it appeared.“I didn’t notice until just now,” Zakk admits and not without a dose of shame.I feel like I’m missing something ridiculously obvious.

“My mother.” Dace’s voicecracks and he clears it behind a fist. “She had breast cancer. She died threeyears ago.”

The bottom drops out.“I’m--”

“Forget it. Z’s right--Ishouldn’t have been so stupid. I just felt like she was . . . here. For asecond.” Dace winces and stands. He wobbles on his feet and his knees knock buthe remains upright. Sweat curls the blond strands plastered to his forehead.“So these things are zombies?”

“Revenants,” Zakk corrects.He rips the sleeve from his shirt and ties it around his palm. “The closestthing to a zombie here are ghouls.”

“Aren’t they the samething?” Kamiron’s stormy gaze roams the walls as he and Dace search for a wayout.

“They are in a sense,” Zakkconcedes. “But ghouls are animated corpses that hunger for flesh, and requireconstant attention and power from a necromancer. It takes extreme amounts ofenergy to raise even a handful of ghouls, and they’re relatively dumb.Revenants on the other hand--well, you saw them. They’re intelligent, they’retrained fighters, they hunger for vitality instead of flesh, and rise with justa touch.”

“Any other good news?”Kamiron snorts.

“Well, then there are the wights.”

“Wights?” he groans.

Zakk manages a bleak smile.“Think skeletons. Smarter than ghouls but they don’t lust for vitality orflesh. I’d rather run into them than a ghoul or anymore revenants.”

“Great.” Dace nods to oursleeping warriors. “How’d you stop them?”

“Shari did, actually.”

I blink, startled. “I did?”

“My spell wasn’t workingdespite the energy I poured into the incantation, but then I saw what you weredigging at.” He gestures to our blood coating the floor. “That is a necromanticword of power: ‘unquenchable hunger.’ I needed to block that power to lull themback to sleep.”

“Just what were you doing,muttering about hunger and loneliness and anger?” Kamiron nods to my ruinedfingernails. “Why’d you do that to your hands?”

To keep from facing theguys, I stare at the words seared into the marble, words that I can’t read butare fragments of a dark spell. “Didn’t realize what I was doing.”

“I think you were in atrance.” Zakk takes my hands and studies my bloody nails. “You were channelingtheir desires and that was what guided my actions. You saved us.” Cool blanketsme. There is no pain. Zakk washes away the blood with his waterskin and I seemy nails have healed.

Embarrassed, I watch Dace.He avoids the bodies but presses his hands against the curved expanse of wall.“Here’s the exit. Think there are more of those revenant things?”

“Undoubtedly.”

Dace pushes and the wallcracks. Screeching, it scrapes across the marble. I brace myself, expectinganother burial chamber, but instead cool air that smells of old soil and mossscrambles inside. Dace pokes his head out and takes a long look left, thenright, then left again.

“All clear?” Kamiron promptswhen Dace doesn’t speak.

“You’re not gonna believethis.”

We rush to the exit and peerout. Dozens of barrows curve out of the ground like warts. Some are made of sandyearth, others of stone; most are a combination of the two. Tendrils of fogslither between the burial mounds in a ribbon of silver. Beyond the barrowsstretches a thick wall. Gargoyles and stone demons perch upon crenels or danglealong parapets. Beyond that rises a vast city. A fain sheen coats its surfaceand the city gleams the white of moonlight over snow. The strange glow pulsatesover the city and up to a massive structure that dominates the skyline in aplethora of odd angles and sharp planes. Something about its design makes mefeel nauseous.

I place a hand to mycurdling stomach and ignore the buzzing sensation I get when I stare too long.“The Necropolis.”

“Necropolis?”

I turn away and gaze beyondthe barrows. I can barely make out the fringes of the Onyx to the east. North Ican see the boarder of the Hallow Wastes. In that direction lies the craterwhere Andhakar has built his wasp-like home. I’d rather be in the court of TheDarkness-That-Hunts than in the city of the dead. I turn towards the guys’expectant faces.

“This region is the Lost.” Imotion to the expanse of barrows that rise up through the sand like breakingwaves. “Named for the lost corpses interred here. The revenants and other suchcreatures.” I point to the glowing white city. “That’s the Necropolis, a giantmetropolis of tombs. It is where the undead stay. Aterians avoid that place,those who are not necromancers.”

Kamiron chews the corner ofhis lip. “Sounds like a place we should avoid. We can go back to thetunnels--unless . . .” He glances at me and then at the Necropolis. “Unlessthere’s a tether in there?”

Bitterness tastes like acidagainst my tongue. “I’d be able to answer that if you hadn’t bartered away mymap.” Their shamed expressions mollify me. I sigh. “I don’t know. I don’t knowhow to replace the tethers without the map.”

My gaze drifts to our bleaksurroundings and the burial mounds growing from the translucent sand.

“It’s never been the map,Shari. It’s always been you,” Zakkreassures. “Inside you.”

My look is skeptical.

“You said before that it wasa feeling, right?” Dace offers.

“A buzzing when my handroamed over the map.”

“So look for that feeling.”Kamiron gestures at my longbow. “Use your weapon.”

This startles me but Zakkseems to catch on. “Dousing,” he whispers. “Actually, that could work--help herfocus her mind.”

I have no idea what they’retalking about. It’s Vayu that comes to my rescue.

Grip the limb of your longbow.

I get the mental image ofme, my longbow held loosely in my right hand, the other limb lightly skimmingthe ivory sand. I follow suit and the boys scurry out of my way so that I haveroom to work.

Now, Vayu instructs, turn in a circle, slowly. Let your mind grow vacant. Feel theconnection of your weapon. Search for that sensation that you felt at the vergeof the Onyx. The ground is your compass, the sand the worn vellum of the map.

Vayu’s voice is clear andhypnotic, shifting and swirling like autumn breezes laden with the scent ofpumpkin, leaves and cinnamon. The longbow grows warm against my palm as my feetshuffle in the sand. I follow Vayu’s instructions; my attention spirals inward.My toes point towards the Onyx . . .

Nothing.

I keep moving, hunting forthe same sensation I had when I studied Divine’s map. The Hollow Wastes . . .Muted. Something beyond there--in the Sepulcher.

But I already knew that.

Turning, my longbow gives asteady hum, it buzzes in my palm as if it’s a live wire. My stomach curls in onitself and I have to fight the urge to vomit. I lift my lashes, suddenly awarethat I’d nearly shut my eyes during my trance.

“Think you jinxed us, Kam,”Zakk sighs.

A faint copper glowstreams out of the limb of my bow and flows in beads directly towards theNecropolis.