Best laid plans… pt5.

Tannas hit the ground with a crumpled thud. It wasn’t pretty, but the torch was still lit, and his sword was still at the ready. He called it a good start to his bad day. He stood straight and took a quick look around. Easily a hundred dead, empty eyes were staring at him. He wasn’t exactly surrounded, but there wasn’t much for wiggle room for escape. Even if he did, where would he go?

As soon as the thought entered his mind, the sound of shuffling feet began again. This time, he could see outstretched hands coming toward him. This time there was no question of what it could be. The thought of being cornered and overwhelmed was not a good feeling. He had to work his way through this mess and find a way out.

When fighting the undead, it comes with a sympathy for them. Their actions are not their own. What’s left of their will, or energy, is told what to do, blindly. If they are left to their own devices, they’ll hunger for what they don’t have; a warm body, the light of one’s soul, a purpose for breath. Maybe its jealousy that drives them to madness.

Zombies are different than your “run of the mill” undead. Zombies have increased sensory and hunger for flesh. They don’t have to see you, they can smell you from a mile away. They also don’t listen very well. That’s why necromancers prefer dumb servants to mindless killers.

“Necromancer!” Tannas exclaimed with a smile that gave him a renewed vigor. Undead were easier to dispatch than zombies. Fighting zombies can get messy. Undead, though? The worst part was breathing in grave dust after you’ve crushed them.

Tannas kept his back to the openings between the clusters of walking corpses. Brittle as they were, some would fall two at a time. Dried cloth would catch fire as Tannas used his torch as a bludgeon, bones would break or splinter as they were hit, while he used his sword to parry arms away from his fighting position.

Bones laid scattered at his feet. The smell of ash and dust lay thick in the air. There were a few stragglers here and there, though it took no great effort to stop them, Tannas kept a mindful eye on where he was going.

He had one of two choices to go. Tracking wouldn’t help as there were many to go off of. Then he heard it. The sound of drums in the distance. Tannas worked his way to the sound knowing only intelligence can keep rhythm like that. The sound grew louder and he could see other torchlight at the end of the tunnel. He dropped his torch when he could feel a warm gust of stale air. Something bigger was just beyond.

Tannas kept as close to the wall as possible. He didn’t want to give away his position yet. He peered around the stone corner and what he saw almost took his breath away. Hundreds of undead and zombies stand in a gentle sway while the two brothers, kept rhythm with two large drums. Their face, chest and arms were painted in markings unreadable from where Tannas stood. He also noticed that many of the laborers they started with were in the crowd, bloody and maimed. Tannas scanned the crowd, looking for his benefactor, Curtis. A foreboding feeling overwhelmed him as something pierced him from behind. The pain was agonizing, and the light around him began to darken. Consciousness was fleeting.