Chapter 9 - Griffin's Gate

"It's our deaths that they crave. Death and slaughter - that's all the Cloven Ones care about."

Shujiro was still telling his story, by the time the other two squads straggled from the sewers and into the basement. With so many men in such an enclosed space, the smell was measurably worse, now; I could see the twist of disgust on his aquiline features, as he did his best to stand upwind of us.

Still, he was cordial enough. Mostly because he knew we were his only way out.

According to Shujiro, he'd never intended to be trapped in Lyost. The beastman attack had come abruptly, without warning - By the time the horde had emerged into full view, it was already too late.

It was a simple truth that armed forces of more than a few hundred souls (even the brute savages of the Cloven) required huge motivation to be spurred to the attack. It needed to be worked up to a frenzy, brought to a boil, before thousands of individuals could attack as a single mass.

But they had hit Lyost less than ten minutes after the first movement had been seen. They'd come sprinting, howling, the crest of a solid wave of horned, grotesque shadows flooding out of the forests and the dark places of the earth.

There had been a frantic drumming, the mad braying of their shamans, urging them on - For the barbarians had come hungry for war, and they'd attacked with a rage that knew no equal.

How an army this large had moved so quickly, no-one knew. Frightened refugees had been thronging at the gates, fighting to get in before they could be closed; the Horde had simply swept through them, hacking and cleaving with sharpened iron blades, trampling those in the way.

The Cloven had magic, too - Some could fly, and some could scamper right up the walls, to swarm over the desperate defenders trying to hold them at bay with spears and arrows.

Crude alchemical charges of dragonbone and saltpeter, fused with harpy's hair, had blown out entire sections of the defenses. But even then - fighting valiantly to the last - the paladins might have been able to hold, if not for the Shrouded Prophet.

He had soared over the battlefield, on vulture's wings. Horned and cloaked, he had called a ferocious tempest, summoning lightning that struck like repeated hammerblows against the city walls. 

Terrible creatures, malicious storm-beasts and darkling fiends, had come at his command; the assault had been so savage, so unrelenting, that less than a quarter of the defenders had survived to fall back into the city.

Then the harrowing had truly begun.

Some ships had cast off from the harbor, before the storm had stranded those that remained. A force had swept towards the docks, and put everyone in the way to the sword; sporadic, frantic resistance had continued, disastrous street-fighting stretching out over the course of a week, but by then the outcome was never in doubt.

All involved feared another magical cataclysm, but the Shrouded Prophet and the bulk of his horde was already moving on. Even as beastmen had flooded through the gates, the milling dark mass was already pulling away, forging relentlessly ahead.

With them, they took as much of the population that could be rounded up. Entire families had been forced into chains, dragged after the departing Horde - Those that had shown fight had been butchered where they stood, while others had been summarily, messily devoured.

My stomach had turned, when Shujiro had talked about jackal-headed demons fighting over an infant's corpse, or those that had been flung into the skinning pits or lifted high on trophy racks; From the expressions on those around me, I could tell they were thinking the exact same thing.

"And how did you survive?" Caius had asked, his face set in an uneasy frown. Shujiro had uttered a short, sharp bark of laughter, his hand settling on the hilt of his sword. "I have my ways," he said, and then - unable to resist - had elaborated.

An irregular force of city guard and adventurers had mounted savage hit-and-run strikes on the beastmen, attacking and then fading back into the shadows before the counterattack could come. But then they'd encountered serious opposition: Armored ogres, the dark magics of the Nagarajas, the foul spells of the Magelos.

Resistance had crumbled, when it became clear that there were uncounted thousands of beastmen - That no matter how many they killed, there was no end to the onslaught. The punishments for those who had been taken alive had been too terrible to describe, the screams echoing through the night.

Shujiro had hewed his way through dozens of foes, but it'd become clear that escape was impossible. He'd retreated to one of the warehouses, planning his next move; For now, they'd remained relatively untouched, given that the Cloven Ones had an entire city to pillage. It was, he knew, only a matter of time before they broadened the scope of sacking.

And then we had arrived, the answer to all his hopes.

---------------------

"You mean to retake the city? With...Sixteen men?"

There was a distinctly dubious note to Shujiro's words, half-hidden by his formal accent. He was a man, I could tell, who took immense pains with manners - Or at least, to appear mannered - no matter the circumstances. He had a certain look in his eyes, the kind you'd see on an animal stuck in a trap, right before it gnaws a leg off to escape.

I knew that, more than anything, he wanted to survive. With that hope so close, it made his desperation all the keener. Desperate men do stupid things; He was trying to hide it, but I could tell that he was on the verge of demanding that we escort him from the city.

"The Liberation Army is on the march," I said. "They're less than a day behind us."

Caius gave me a short, sharp look, but I pushed on before he could stop me. "In a few hours from now, they'll lay siege to the city; We're here to make sure Griffin's Gate is open, before they arrive."

I locked gazes with Shujiro, as his sharp, piercing eyes flicked to me. "You only have to wait a day or so, and the city will be retaken. It's better than risking the sewers - We lost five men getting here."

"That's enough, lad." Caius cut in, but I could see some of the tension draining from Shujiro's form. He was still a coiled spring, just no longer on the verge of explosion.

"Is that so?" Shujiro said, his gaze going distant, thoughtful. "-Interesting."

I looked away, as he mulled over this. Around us, the now-crowded cellar was a hive of activity; Brother Jozan, after tending to the men, had eased himself down against the wall, his eyes closed as he tried to meditate. Some had opened their waterskins, doing their best to wash off some of the filth that clung to their forms. Roulle, his scarred shield riding high on one arm, was chewing his lip - From his expression, I could tell that he wanted nothing more than to get out there.

Not one, but two, less-than-friendly gazes had settled on Shujiro. Skander was staring at him in a distinctly contemplative way, the way a hunter would size up a trophy buck; I could see the gleam of competition in his eyes, as he hooked his fingers into his belt.

Throne Gazer, in his mother-of-pearl armor, just stared. His lip had curled in something like disgust, and he gripped his bladed spear as if longing to plant it in Shujiro's back.

If Shujiro noticed, he made no comment. Off to the side, the elf huddled in a corner, looking occasionally at us but mainly at Shujiro. Even at rest, she looked terrified, with a hunted animal's big, frightened eyes.

"We move out in an hour's time," Caius said. How he could know that, I had no idea - Even as he went on; "Leave anything too heavy. Weapons, armor, waterskins and potions only. The rest, we'll come back for."

An hour. Just thinking about it made my mouth go dry, a low tremor coursing through me. My hands were shaking; I made a fist, but it didn't help. My canteen rattled as I unscrewed the top, forcing myself to drink in slow sips - It was a miracle I didn't spill any of it. Rivulets of brown water ran down my form, as I poured about half of it over my head: A waste, but the urge to be clean (or at least cleaner than before) was all-consuming.

Kashan - hovering slightly away from everyone else - looked distinctly relieved. For a moment, I was nearly envious of him: His part of this was over. I was wondering when he'd broach the question-

With startling delicacy for such a big man, he sidled over to Caius. "So," he said, carefully. "About our deal."

Caius was on one knee, adjusting the straps of his quivers - One sadly depleted - to ride more comfortably against his back. He motioned for Kashan to keep going.

"I've upheld my part of the bargain, haven't I? Might've been a few twists and turns, but I kept my word-"

The Sergeant didn't sigh, though I had a feeling he was about to. "Aye. You did, and I can't say any fairer than that." Kashan exhaled, visibly deflating in relief - He looked like a great weight had just been lifted from his shoulders.

"Then," he said, cautious now - "Can I...go?"

Caius fixed him with an unblinking look, for a long moment. Then, he said: "You're free to go. I'll let Lady Arisa know, once this is over...But do me a favor?"

Kashan nodded, so quickly his jowls shook. "Anything."

Caius gestured at the sad mound of bodies we'd made, in the corner of the cellar. We'd put the dead out of the way, but it was impossible not to be aware of their presence. Like a premonition of our immediate futures.

"Keep an eye on them for me," he said. "Let them know it wasn't for nothing."

His killer's eyes narrowed, his features drawn. "Let them know...One way or another, we'll be sending company their way. Soon."

---------------------

In an effort to distract myself from the inevitable, I turned to the elf. She flinched back, instinctively; I paused, but tried anyway - "What's your name?"

No answer, just that terrified look.

"She doesn't talk," Shujiro said, absently. He'd stepped back, so his black boots - once gleaming, now scuffed and dirty - weren't stained by the sluiced-off filth trickling across the cellar floor. Rubbing his chin, now, frowning as if he was working over some complex equation.

"What? Why?"

He gave me a brief look, as if annoyed at being roused from his contemplation.

"She's property," he said, as though he was merely stating the obvious. "Property doesn't talk back."

I looked away from Shujiro. Back to her. Really looked, at that shift of rough homespun, at the notches and gashes that scarred those pointed ears.

"Is that so," I said, my voice flat, affectless. It wasn't a question.

I won't lie. According to the Ministry of Labor's long-standing policies, failure to meet the Social Tax was punished with conversion into a Laborer. Cortical dampeners and nerve-stapling ensured obedience, and the sentence was inevitably hard labor. Most indents burned out within a year; Some lasted a little more, but by then they were in no shape for anything else.

There were rumors - always rumors - that the re-education camps were a direct pipeline to indentured service. Habitual offenders, of course...But there was always a quota to meet, production levels to maintain.

No, it wasn't a shock to me. But it didn't mean I liked it.

I revised my estimation of Shujiro a few notches down, even as he frowned. Quizzical, more than anything else. "Yes," he said. "All legal, in case you were wondering. Why would it be otherwise?"

I drew a breath. Held it. 

Started to say-

"Leave it, lad." Caius's voice was sharp, all business now.

"But-"

"Leave it." I had some leeway with Caius, but it was clear I'd run out of rope. He stood up, his sword knocking against his hip - Spearing me with a look. 

One that said, quite clearly: Not another word, boy.

I shut my mouth with a click.

Shujiro's face was carefully expressionless, as he watched the exchange. At length, he merely nodded, clearing his throat with a measured cough.

"I've decided," he said. "-I shall accompany you."

---------------------

I'll admit - I wasn't thrilled. If it were up to me, I'd have preferred to stay as far from Shujiro as possible. He irked me, and it wasn't just the casual abuse he'd shown: Something about him made my fists itch.

With a start, I realized - He was the first person I'd actually disliked, since my arrival in...whatever this world was.

No, I might not have punched him. But I'd have been happy to.

Isn't that a convenient lie that we tell ourselves? That - when the opportunity arises - we would have done the right thing?

Then again, perhaps Caius had a point. We were completely surrounded by beastmen: We didn't have time to pick another fight. More, I wasn't sure I could have won, if it came down to the wire - He was hideously proficient with that sword of his, and he knew it.

"You're sure about this?" Caius was saying, his face fixed in a slight frown.

"A chance to liberate Lyost from the Prophet’s horde?" Shujiro said, grandly. He pushed stray strands of blonde hair back from his face, standing tall, proud. "How could I not rise to the occasion?"

I had to admit: He looked like he meant it. He moved with an effortless, deadly grace, light on the balls of his feet, handling that sword as if it was an extension of his own body. I couldn't help but notice - While he'd clearly seen heavy fighting, he'd taken no obvious wound. That, by itself, was impressive.

"It will be an honor to fight alongside you," he pressed. "Allow me the chance to demonstrate my skill with the blade; I give you my word - I shall follow your orders faithfully."

"I like his spirit," Skander said, still eyeing him. "Safety in numbers, eh?"

"Or company in death," Caius said. He sounded reluctant, and I could tell why - All the while, Throne Gazer had been staring at Shujiro, those bulbous eyes unblinking. He said nothing, but I could feel the palpable enmity that radiated from him. "Again - You're certain you wish to come along?"

"Of course," Shujiro said, without hesitation. He nodded - of all things - in my direction. "That one interests me, after all."

I blinked. "Me?" I said, before I could stop myself. "Why?"

He gave me a slow, significant look. "I failed to slay you," Shujiro said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "It has been...a long time...since such a thing has occurred." He smiled, that same thin-lipped smile from before. "If he's the least of your company - Well, perhaps I fancy our chances, after all."

Caius mulled over this, and sighed. He closed his eyes for a moment, and straightened.

"Very well," he said. "-Let's get to it."

---------------------

The smell of rotting salt and burning wood hung in the air, when we emerged. It was, somehow, worse than the stench of the sewer - But nothing compared to the scene of carnage that greeted our eyes.

The waterfront was littered with debris and broken bodies, the buildings charred and blackened by hungry flame. Even from here, I could see where the victims had been crucified, on impaling spears, on the spokes of wagons, or on crude stakes. Crows fluttered and hopped, fighting over scraps, their cawing echoing plaintively in the gloom.

Every few yards, there was another one. Like a foul totem, or a grisly sentinel, watching over the debris-littered landscape.

"Gods," Roulle muttered, his knuckles white against the haft of his spear. He didn't look at them, not directly, and I knew why: He feared that the next stake would hold his family. For my own sake, I tried not to look - Tried to ignore the gnawed limbs, the writhing entrails that spilled forth from those ruptured, abused corpses like meat from a fruit.

While the wooden buildings had yielded to the torch, the stone structures had put up a sterner fight. Smoke trails wisped from them, rising into the air like incense as we darted from shadow to shadow; the slick cobblestones underfoot scattered with fragments of wood, with coins, with papers. All the detritus that you'd expect from a city like this, flung aside like toys in the hands of bored children.

I trod on something that gave, unpleasantly, and looked down-

It was a leg.

I felt my gorge rise, and looked away. Across the street, a mongrel dog trotted past, a hand and the shred of an arm gripped in its jaw. A ring gleamed on an orphaned finger, as it stared - with animal curiosity - at us, and kept going.

"Keep moving," Caius said. We'd split into two groups, now - Caius at the head of one, Skander leading the other. A bridge loomed to our right, looming over filthy water, full of foam and rubbish, streaked with glistening oil; Skander glanced at it, but the Sergeant shook his head.

Too exposed, I knew he was thinking. If we were seen, it'd all be for nothing.

From my estimate, we had about a third of the city to cross. Given the sheer number of upended wagons, slaughtered horses and abandoned barricades in the way, there was plenty of cover - But God alone knew what was lying in wait for us.

God help us if we were discovered.

We couldn't see the beastmen, not yet, but we could hear them. Smell them.

The air was thick with the stench of blood, charred wood, excrement, powdered bone and smoldering iron, a coppery reek that reached all the way to the back of your throat. And there was that chanting, the drumming in the distance...

I wanted, so very desperately, to run. Every muscle in my body ached with tension, but I knew that would be fatal. All I wanted was for this to be over, to be doing anything but creeping forward one slow inch at a time, wondering if something was already closing in-

Someone seized my shoulder, and I stiffened. Shujiro, of all people - I might have said something, but the look on his face demanded silence. There was the beginning of a sound; Like wind, like the flapping of the sail on our skiff. For a moment, I thought I was imagining it, but the others were looking up, too.

"What's-" someone began.

"Shut up!"

We waited, tensely. The creaking - almost like canvas - seemed to be moving overhead, as we crouched in the dark. Something moved in the darkened skies, and - abruptly - I realized what the sound was.

Wings.

The huge, leathery wings of unnameable things flying overhead, invisibly black against the starless sky. Some chiropteran behemoth carried on vast batwings, sweeping across the fallen city.

---------------------

We kept moving. I'd thought that Shujiro's slave would be a hindrance, but the elf stayed close to the group, with an innate stealth that surprised me. Heiter had asked - in his quiet, casual way - if we could be assured that she would stay with the group.

Shujiro had merely shrugged.

"And go where?" he'd said. "The beasts eat elves, too."

That had decided it. I didn't like it, but there was no time for argument. No time for anything, in fact. Only effort.

A small mercy: It was, at least, obvious where the beastmen were. The beastmen liked to stay together, in their packs and tribes. This city was as alien to them as their lands would have been to us, and it showed. Even from a distance, the flames of each communal blaze was easily visible - the guttural cheers and grunts of their almost-language carrying over the shrieks of their victims.

We moved cautiously, through block after block of deserted houses, places that had been looted and put to the flame when the demihumans had taken Lyost. Now and again, tragic keepsakes showed: Smashed porcelain, a child's rocking-horse, a holy symbol of the Four Gods that something (with time and effort) had defaced.

Everything was broken, ruined, made all the more dingy by the flickering yellow flamelight that shone through the gaps of the splintered buildings. There was a stench of animal musk and ordure, as if livestock had been left to rut.

Somehow, that was the most distressing thing of all. It was like watching civilization being reduced to barbarity, as if all the works of Man were being unmade one-by-one. This defilement made my gut churn, made my hand tighten around the Interfector's hilt. I could feel something - Not quite anger - stiffen my spine, calm the trembling to my limbs.

It was then I realized, in a slow, crystal-clear moment of enlightenment:

It had been a long, long time since I'd hated anyone as much as I hated them.

Up ahead, another bonfire burned. Skander - light on his feet, for such a big, savage-looking man - pressed himself up against the wall, signaling to Caius; His group would move up ahead, first. We would follow shortly after.

"What are they doing?" Heiter murmured, sounding genuinely curious. Roulle just looked sick; "I know that place," he said, indicating the old sandstone building the beastmen were gathered around. This far away, they were primal figures, wolf and ape-headed, their bodies furred or scaled, the leaping flames blurring their hellish silhouettes.

"-that's the city library."

I narrowed my eyes, trying to get a better view. The beastmen were carrying heaps of books out of the shattered building, on wooden boards or in great armfuls - But not to toss them into the flames, as I'd expected. Instead, I could see tall, terrifying antler-crowned figures sorting through the piles: Shamans, working their way through the pages, wondering at the things they'd found.

The Horde hadn't invaded just for blood and loot and the pleasure of their predator-gods. They had come to steal knowledge and learning, too.

"The beasts can read?" Shujiro said. His hand hadn't left his sword, the entire time. He must have been as tense and exhausted as everyone else, but I could sense the razor-sharp alertness to him, as honed as a blade. He looked disturbed, as if he'd seen something truly troubling.

"Impossible. They can barely speak. They're animals."

I remembered the tiger-man that had called himself the Manflayer, and I said nothing.

"Enough of that," Caius said, just barely above a whisper. He nodded at the mouth of the alley directly across the street, almost invisible in the flickering play of light and shadow. "Go. We'll cover you. Quickly, lads."

I nodded, my heart in my mouth. Roulle was at my side, as I braced to run; He nodded, and I forced myself into a sprint. Right across the street, praying - Don't look, don't look, you bastards...

My foot caught something. I staggered, but didn't slow, until I'd plunged headfirst into the shadows of the alley. Roulle slammed against the wall, his chest heaving as if he'd just run a marathon: Even from here, I could see how his skin was soaked in cold sweat. When I glanced in his direction, he managed a quick, anxious grin-

A grin that turned to horror, as his gaze flitted over my shoulder.

Oh shit-

I turned, but I knew I was already too late.

They were juveniles, I think. Goat-headed, attired in cast-offs stripped from laundry lines and plundered from the dead. It looked like they'd snuck away from the rest of the pack to do some looting of their own, their arms piled high with all kinds of junk. One clutched a stuffed dove, unreal face contorted in blank surprise.

I reached for the Interfector, but hesitated before I drew.

The flames-

Something whispered past us, with a keenness that made the air sing.

The first demihuman vomited a huge, extravagant spray of blood. It staggered back two steps, clutching at its throat, then toppled over without a sound. Goat-legs kicked once, kicked twice in the spreading puddle of blood, and then it was still. The other staggered back, and then its malformed head flew off before it could bleat in distress.

I had a moment to think: How-

Behind us, Shujiro flicked the blood from the curved blade of his sword, sheathing it in the same fluid motion. His slave cowered behind him, her mouth open and closing at the immediacy of death.

I hadn't even seen him move.

"You see?" he said, his smile never wavering. "You do require my aid, after all."

---------------------

According to Caius, there was no point in trying to hide the bodies.

"They'll know we're here, soon enough," he said, looking grim. "-Best to get on with it."

We were close, now, and he knew it - Everyone did. Already, we could see the two grey-rendered towers of the gatehouse, rising above the maze of scorched houses and alleyways.

In the grand scale of things, Lyost might have been a small city, but the realm had learned caution from the perpetual wars with the beastmen; The city walls were towering constructs of sheer dark stones, the grey slate roofs of buildings around a courtyard in their midst.

Griffin's Gate had taken some damage in the fighting. The wall was scorched in places, chunks blasted from the stone. Carrion-birds clustered on the scarred battlements, tearing morsels from the decaying forms that lay where they had fallen; the demi-humans, with their animal sensibilities, didn't care that they were surrounded by death.

The double-doors of the gate had been flung outward, but the portcullis was lowered and the drawbridge had been raised. It was clear that the beastmen thought themselves secure enough, and why not? Lyost had a wide moat dug around it, so the city was almost like an island. With the gates secured, no attacker - barring heroic effort - would make it across.

I could see the importance of the mission, now; Our allies didn't have the numbers, or the equipment required, for a prolonged siege. Unless the gates were open, a head-on attack meant hideous losses.

"There it is, lads," Caius said, softly. "That's what we're here for. Griffin's Gate."

Except-

In the courtyard, the demihumans were...worshiping. There were few other words I could think of, for the rite. The remains of a great blaze - a steep stack of charred timber and ash, dry-white and still smoking - smoldered in the middle of the square, a thin cloud of smoke rising in a plume. It had a strange, astringent smell, almost herbal; not quite enough to hide the charred stench of roasted meat.

I don't know how many there were at the ceremony. A few dozen, perhaps. I couldn't fully catalogue their monstrosity; Instead, I could only use words like bat-headed, pig-headed, canine, serpentine…

I saw the malaria-yellow hoods of the horselike priest caste looking on, side-by-side with the antlered-crowned forms of their shamans. The clash of cymbals and a rapid tattoo beat out on drums almost drowned out everything else, the wolf-priests occupied with the elaborate tapping and shaking of rattlebags and bone wands.

And at the firepit itself, the beastmen were digging in the ashes, rooting through it like pigs in the search of truffles. I could feel the heat from here; Embers still glowed, tiny pockets of searing heat, but the beastmen scooped the ash-powder away with their bare hands, regardless. They dug as if the greatest treasure of all was just within reach, as if a fortune lay somewhere within the charcoal logs and glowing coals.

"What are they doing?"

An ululation rose, above the shaking of bone jangles and the constant, relentless drumming. A true horror with yellow-glowing eyes and a simian brow raised something pearlescent, something that gleamed like old ivory from the remnants of the blaze-

"Abomination," Brother Jozan hissed, his lips pressed together in a thin line.

It was a human skull.

They were digging up skulls. Burned-clean, the flesh roasted from the bone, wisps of steam rising from them. It must have scorched and blistered the demihuman's hands, but it didn't seem to care - Guttural cheers rang out as it shook the trophy overhead, punching the air in triumph as it lumbered over to the shamans.

Banners, trailing streamers of what looked like poorly-cured hides, fluttered in the breeze as the apeman planted his prize within the abstruse markings sketched out in dyes and fire-ash, knuckle-walking back to the carcass of the blaze to continue digging with renewed vigor.

With a brass knife, one of the shamans made a notch on the banner-poles; This time, only the apemen cheered. Something with the sweeping tusks and mad eyes of a boar emerged next, shaking white ash from the skull it clutched in each great fist - The cheers were even louder this time, as it swaggered forward.

Two notches on another pole, this one festooned with strings of clattering charms and gleaming gems.

And I realized-

They were stacking them. The mound of skulls grew steadily, one or two at a time, a shape beginning to emerge: a pyramid, the empty eyes of the dead looking outwards, smiling their rueful, lifeless grins.

As the shamans capered around the rising monument to death, the air above the half-complete structure seemed to ripple, to distort - Weird lights flickered, half-seen things twisting and squirming in the haze...

As brutal as the rite was, it was clear that the pyramid was being built according to exacting measurements. A specific number of skulls would be required to complete it; As the tallies mounted, the air grew thick and sour. There was an almost-noise, like static, like the drone of locusts, building to the very edge of audibility.

"I've seen enough," Caius said. His killer's eyes flashed, in the fitful light.

"Hit them."

Next: Howling Dark