NINE
Roan finally found the exit after ten minutes of walking around. In between a pair of hills was an oblong portal. It stood unattached to anything, a shimmering veil, color fluctuating across it like an oil-spill. Already people were camping around it, resting on the ground or checking their gear before they went through.
“You going out?” A woman asked as Roan got to the gate. He nodded to her and she launched into a quick explanation before he could move on.
“Dillon and Ramone have both gone through it. It leads directly to where the exit is. Six of the ten guardians have been destroyed. We don’t know how many people it takes to trigger the next coffin opening, but solo trips are fine. Just hope you don’t get caught as another group comes in.”
“Has there been any more groups?” Roan couldn’t help but think of the massive crowds of armed skeletons that had been walking around and hacking people apart. They would continue to wake the crypts until there was an army of them.
“Not for an hour. I don’t think this is the only safe room. It’d require backtracking and running down that boulevard to find out though. Skeletons haven’t reached the entrance or they won’t enter it. Don’t know yet.”
“Thanks for the info.” Roan gave her an appreciative nod and jogged toward the portal before anyone else could intercept him. Off to the side a small party of five were pulling brand new packs around their shoulders and lifting shining weapons up and inspecting them.
“Waste of money. Just scavenge what you can for now.” Roan couldn’t help but wince at the thought of the cost of everything the group had bought. They would have had a nice clear rate of skeletons to earn that much. His thoughts of others' spending habits were broken as he stepped up to the portal and through it.
He’d been unconscious when he’d gone through it the first time. Nausea assaulted him instantly, the world spinning as he staggered out of the portal and back into the cul-de-sac. His stomach rebelled and tried to deposit his hard bought meal, but he forced it back down as the world spun around him.
“I wish she’d warned me about that.”
Roan surveyed the ruins of the area. As she had said, six of the giant skeletons were in broken remnants around the entrance of the safe room. Four more coffins stood unopened, otherwise the area was empty. The wide neck of the cul-de-sac had thirty different alleys connected to it, each of them teeming with shadows and glints of metal. Whatever force kept the skeletons back, Roan was grateful.
“Probably right about there being more safe rooms,” Roan spoke aloud as he walked around. He investigated every inch of the area, aside from the unopened coffins. The torches were firmly locked into their sconces, impossible to rip out. The coffins were either empty or had been cleared out by those who came before him. Nothing but polished wood remained and Roan doubted he’d be able to pick one up and haul it through the portal to sell it. After five minutes of searching he couldn’t find anything of value to retrieve.
Roan looked at the closest of the channels to him and sighed, pulling one of the axes out and started forward toward them. At the neck of the boundary the skeletons turned to look at him, their blue flame eyes bright in the gloom. Step by step he got closer and saw that it was an azure sea.
“Carefully, Roan. Can’t be getting hurt.” He couldn’t afford the healing supplies he’d need to get back in shape. The words bounced around the stone as he settled himself down into a fighting stance. Unlike when he had first appeared in the tower, he had time to think now, to breathe and think as he settled himself.
Slowly he edged forward, shuffling his feet as he got closer to the entrance of the hall. The moment his foot brushed past the edge of the cul-de-sac the burning blue eyes locked on to him. The wave of skeletons came at him without hesitation, a tide of them rushing the space between them.
A curved dagger came for his neck, slicing the air apart as the skeleton lunged forward. Roan leaned back and countered, his axe biting the creature’s elbow. Already Roan could feel the difference from when he’d fought the creature the first time. It was stronger than the inferior skeletons, but not as much as his wounded state had led him to think.
Its arm jerked to the side, chunks of bone flying free as Roan jerked the axe free. He struck again before the skeleton could recover, crushing its skull. Blue fire blessed free of its eye sockets as it collapsed into a heap, but the next skeleton was already coming forward.
They attacked with the same mindless strategy as each other, the same attacks over and over again that made it simple to block and counter. Then it became a game of endurance. Sweat poured down his back and stained the simple robes he wore. His breath came in ragged gasps as Roan dispatched the seventh of the blue-eyed skeletons.
He stepped back quickly and was relieved to see that the undead didn’t follow him. They pressed against the edge of the alley, but didn’t move another foot as they stood in the remnants of their fallen brethren. Roan took a knee and looked over the alleys, watching to make sure they didn’t break free of their lines.
Seven of the poor grade skeletons over five minutes of fighting had netted him a total of a hundred-forty credits. A meal would set him back another fifty credits, which he’d need three or more a day to have enough calories. Water would need even more so he wouldn’t die of dehydration.
“This is not working,” Roan finally had to admit. Just fighting and slaughtering the skeletons would net him money, but everything he needed to sustain himself would keep his growth capped. Not unless he could start harvesting the fallen weapons or get into the graves themselves. There had to be goods in the graves that could be sold, but until the press of undead was defeated, he wasn’t going to get to them.
“Have to go back and ask for help. One or two people hold the line while the others harvest. Rotating guards to keep everyone fresh, split the rewards evenly.” It rankled. The thought of having to go back and deepening his already large debt.
“Do a couple more shifts. Then I’ll go back,” Roan promised himself as he got to his feet. He looked at the wall of skeletons awaiting him and shook his head as he hefted his dulling axe up.
The second wave of attacks went just like the first. Four and a half minutes of frantic fighting, axe meeting daggers as Roan bobbed and weaved in the tight confines of the corridor. One after the other he sent the undead to the ground, broken and defeated only for the next to come toward him.
By the time he backed up he’d managed to kill eight of them. He hadn’t lasted any longer in the chokepoint, but he had found himself dismantling them fast and with more efficiency. Sitting back he looked over the growing pile of bones and realized that was going to be a problem as well.
It was going to affect his footing and with his current fighting style relying on well timed dodges, it was going to become an issue. He reminded himself to check the armor section when he was done here. A shield or breastplate would go a long ways for allowing him to stand toe to toe with the undead.
“Three hundred credits. Not terrible, but I can do better,” Roan said, hyping himself up as he laid down the dulled axe and grabbed his spare. Recovery took longer this time, but he got to his feet and walked forward again. If he got through one more wave of them, then he’d go and think about asking for help.
“You shouldn’t lie to yourself.” The reprimand was instant, a harsh lesson beat into him by his teacher. The moment he stepped into the alley, dodged the first of the attackers, and the dance began again.