Return of Mullenkamp Chapter 2: Death in a Strange City, a vagrant story fanfic

Death in a Strange City

"Lo! Death has reared himself a throne
In a strange city, lying alone
Far down within the dim West
Where the good and the bad and the worst and the best
Have gone to their eternal rest."
Edgar Allen Poe, The City in the Sea

"There, Dark Lady." The lizard man growled in his deep voice. Even though he spoke in his own language of hisses and chirps, Müllenkamp understood. He cocked his head, from one side to the other, studying the ruined city below them. "The City of a Thousand Dead."

Müllenkamp surveyed the scene before her from her higher perch a top the black mare. A crumbling city rising out of the cold mists of morning. Like a giant ring with a towering cathedral as its jewel. Leá Monde. So this is where my journey ends. I should have known. One of the northern most of my strongholds.

Frost covered the brittle, yellowing grass of last summer. The horses' breaths plumed in the chilly air. Winter was fighting to keep its hold on the land, and Spring seemed to be losing what ground it had gained these last few weeks. Müllenkamp drew her fur lined cloak closer around her. The two lizard men who had accompanied her to the city did the same with their own leather ones.

This is harder on them than it is on me. They were barely out of hibernation when I came across their den. Yet the den offered me their two best warriors. Müllenkamp smiled ruefully. A better offer than some others have given me.

It had taken her four years since she had regained the memories of who she was to come to this place. Four incredibly long years of journeying, searching, going on nothing more than gossip and rumors. She had searched out those sworn to or allied with the Dark. Sometimes they simply appeared, drawn to her power. Again and again they spoke of a disturbance of the Dark. Again and again she had asked of its source. To the north and to the west. The answer was repeated to her as if it were a mantra.

As if the problem of seeking out the source of the disturbance was not bad enough, she had to contend with her own followers. Getting any of the grubby little misers to supply her in her travels was a task unto itself. That is why like the lizard people and the orcs, the goblins and imps. So simple and loyal. They understand who is in charge. Perhaps I should just wipe out all my human followers and start over.

There had been a great disturbance in the Dark. That, along with the increased persecutions of those aligned with the Dark by the Templars, had made its minions uneasy. Whenever she rode into a stronghold of the Dark, Müllenkamp was literally mobbed as those sworn to what she represented sought an easing of their fears. She could give them none.

And because I knew not what had happened, and could not promise them protection from what might come, they were reluctant to give me what I needed. After all, what if it came to pass that they needed it themselves? Fools, all of them. Do they not realize that if I am called, then it is to set matters aright?

"Is there a entrance to the city?" Müllenkamp asked in a series of hisses and grunts. The green lizard man, the one that seemed marginally smarter of the two, cocked his head in thought. The red blood lizard did not even acknowledge the question. He simply leaned against the Boar Spear he carried and watched the surrounding countryside for possible threats.

"Earth trembled almost three clutches ago. Rent in ground stops us. Boats sink now. Some found way in. Made den there. Earth trembled more. Gone." The lizard man flicked a tongue out, tasting the air. "Our den not enter. Not gone."

Three clutches. If nothing much has changed, the lizard people clutch every ten years. A little under every fifteen years for the blood lizards. So that would put what happened at about thirty years?

"Thirty years ago the earth trembled? An earthquake? How very odd in a city I designed specifically to last until my last rising," she mused in her own language. The lizard man watched her but did not reply. Müllenkamp doubted he even understood her words. "The more answers I try to find the more questions I have."

"Other news about The City of a Thousand Dead?" She asked the lizard man. Her mare stamped its hooves, shaking the bridle to rattle the metal bits. The green one shook his head. But for the first time, the blood lizard spoke.

"Humans still come here. Like before. Rat ones now. I taste their stink." The red and silver head swiveled around to stare at Müllenkamp with unblinking yellow eyes. "I was sent after last time. Blood and death in the air. Do not go in, Dark Lady."

She held up a hand both to forestall any other words and to give herself time to decipher the meaning of what the blood lizard had said. Rat ones. The lizard people call rats the ultimate thieves. Perhaps only thieves go to Leá Monde now? And what was that about the last time?

"Last time? When? What happened?"

"After last green clutching. Humans come. Some with bad rood." Churchmen. Müllenkamp silently translated. "Follow ones of Dark. Follow one with good rood. Few come out. New one with good rood come out. Dark no longer flow here."

"My Roodbearer was here? Less than ten years ago as well. And the rood changed hands from one to another. But even that, even here, should not have caused the Dark to stop flowing. I am missing something, pieces of a puzzle. It looks as if I must enter Leá Monde." Müllenkamp swung off her horse, onto the ground. The dead grass crunched under her feet. From this new vantage point both lizard men loomed above her.

"I must go into the city." Both lizard men hissed their dismay and protest at her words. "There is no other way. Take my animals to the human den east of your den at night. A man of the Dark will care for them. I will get them when I am done." Müllenkamp finished her speech, rubbing her throat in discomfort. She took a waterskin from her horse's saddlebag and drank. The cool water soothed her throat. Speaking in the lizard people's tongue for long periods of time always hurt.

"We will go with you." The blood lizard stated. The green lizard nodded and growled his agreement. Müllenkamp took enough bread, cheese, and a few withered apples to last her for two days. There were plenty of places in the city to find water, assuming the springs were untainted. With the Dark gone, wild game was sure to have taken over. If need be, she could hunt for her meals.

"No. I release you. You are both slow. I will need speed. I will be protected. The Dark will provide." The lizard men hissed once again in protest, but conceded. "Take the animals." The green lizard man took a hold of the reins. The black mare started, eyes rolling. A few words and Müllenkamp calmed the skittish horse. The other two packhorses were equally nervous around the lizard men, but would follow the mare's lead.

The lizard man lead the horses away, back towards the woods and the safety of civilization. Müllenkamp ignored the urge to watch them go. The black mare was the only survivor of the three horses she had started out with four years ago. She was a good horse, and Müllenkamp realized she would miss her. Instead, the priestess of the Dark looked towards the broken city of Leá Monde.

"Dark Lady!" Müllenkamp turned in time to see the blood lizard racing back towards her. Despite the cold, and their clumsy appearance the lizard people could move with frightening speed when they wanted to. "A gift. To protect." The blood lizard offered her a sheathed weapon, and Müllenkamp gratefully took it.

"I found it covered in blood. Near the City of a Thousand Dead. It is a good blade. Finer metal than what we make." It was a stiletto, made of the metal hagane. The places where two gems could go, one at the end of the hilt, the other in the guard, stared up at Müllenkamp like empty eye sockets. She turned in over in her hands, testing the weight. It was indeed a fine blade.

"Thank you. I will remember your den and the gift you have given me." The blood lizard nodded, yellow eyes unreadable. With a graceful turn, he started after his companion. Then he was gone.

Müllenkamp turned back towards the city, watching the first rays of the sun begin to penetrate the cold fog that hung low to the ground. I will have to find a way to enter the city. Perhaps those I left in charge managed to put in the wine cellars they talked so fondly of. That would be a good place to start.

With that thought, the priestess of the Dark began her search.
______________________________________________________

The Dark will provide.

Müllenkamp had uttered the words with complete faith. Over two millennia ago she had made a covenant with the powers called the Dark. One of the stipulations was that after death, should she find herself once again walking the mortal world, the Dark would provide her with protectors of its choosing. Hours had gone by since she had dismissed the lizard men from their duty as protectors. She had yet to see their replacements.

An hour of searching above ground had put her no closer to finding a way in. The sun had long since burnt off the early mist, but providing little warmth. It did provide enough heat to melt the frost to dew. It covered everything that touched it with cold damp. She had just started contemplating a long walk back to the lizard men's den when a piece of mortared stone had caught her eye. Müllenkamp had walked towards the pale stone only to trip over the entrance to the underground of Leá Monde. Literally. Luckily nothing was hurt except her pride.

The stone underground proved to be even colder than the air above. It was the deep bone-gnawing cold of caves and mines, catacombs and wine cellars. A perfect environment for those who wanted to preserve the wines they had worked so hard to make. Müllenkamp was sure that in the summer the cold would be a refreshing change from the humid heat. In the early spring, it was just bitter.

Once torches in scones had lit the way for those traversing the dark underground. No longer. An eternal night had settled upon the cellars, cloaking all in darkness. As Müllenkamp descended the stairs the pale light of earlt morning faded quickly away. It was time for a light spell.

That had proved to be as easy as herding cats. She, priestess of the Dark and possibly the best sorceress to have ever lived, had called upon the Dark and received no answer. Twenty minutes later, shaking and sweating in the cold, Müllenkamp finally got the torches of the room to come sputtering to life. Somehow she managed to keep the spell going. But it only lasted if she was in the room. As soon as she crossed the threshold, the torches would die, and the ones for the new room would spring to life. A spell that should have lit the entire series of catacombs barely provided enough weaklight for a single room.

The Dark had not simply been stilled in Leá Monde. It had been drained, like removing a plug from the bottom of a barrel. Only now was it beginning to reclaim the area creeping through the cracks into the city proper. But there was not nearly enough power for Müllenkamp to do more than the most basic of spells. Not without draining herself dangerously low.

Four rooms into the wine cellars had provided another ugly surprise. None of the cloud stones worked. They lay heavily on the ground, some smashed to many pieces, like birds with broken wings. And Müllenkamp simply did not have the power to reanimate and fix them. This had led to a lot of jumping, climbing, and swearing on the high priestess's part. Her hand were bruised and her fingernails bled where she had used them to grip tricky stone walls. Slime and grit turned the underside of her nails dark. Every time her hand encountered a spot slick with slime, the priestess shuddered.

The Dark will provide. So far, my friend, all you've provided me with is a fierce headache, unending cold, decades worth of thick grime, and a deep down desire to kill something. Why is it always the smallest phrases we learn to regret? Müllenkamp thought as she rested on a piece of dislodged stone.

She had stopped in this room to eat a meal consisting of half a loaf of bread, some water, a thick slice of cheese, and one slightly withered apple. The evidence of earthquakes covered the floor in the form of broken masonry. Thick cracks ran along the walls. Uneven flagstones threatened to trip the unwary. Torch light danced, revealing places where nitre hung in thick white strands.

"Light..." Müllenkamp jumped at the word, spoken so close behind her. She whirled towards the sound. There stood a giant of a man, hair and skin pale, muscles clearly defined by tattered black leather. He was holding an axe so big in seemed unreal. The blade drug the ground, leaving a shallow furrow in its wake.

Always an admirer of fine blades, Müllenkamp winced at the abuse. The man didn't seem to have noticed her. He was staring entranced at the flickering torches. His eyes moved from one to the other, looking at them like a man lost in the desert would look at an oasis. Müllenkamp realized that she could not remain unnoticed for long.

As so slowly as she dared, Müllenkamp drew the stiletto the blood lizard had given her from its sheath. The light from the torches ran down the blade like liquid fire. The weapon seemed pathetically small when compared to the giant's axe. Yet it was all she had. With the Dark at my bidding, I would have nothing to fear from him. But the Dark no longer rules Leá Monde. It would appear that I am very much on my own.

The thought made her shiver. She could not help but notice how big, how powerful, how unyielding this man was. How small, and slender, and young her own body was. Should the stranger try anything there would be no way for her to stop him. The silence in the chamber stretched out, every second an eternity for Müllenkamp as she waited for the giant to notice her.

Dark eyes finally finished their inspection of the room and settled on her. A subtle tension took over the stranger's body. The axe stopped its scraping of the floor, brought up before the giant in a defensive hold. "You..." the words were uttered slowly, an accusation that hung in the air between them. Müllenkamp tensed, ready to fight for her life. Then confusion creased the giant's brow. "Who are you?"

"I do not want to fight," Müllenkamp replied. Her grasp of the language of Valendia was not complete. She could form simple sentences, could string more complex phrases together using conjunctions, could conjugate the most common verbs. Anything more complex than that, and she was at a lost. Always a master of languages and the subtle art of words, Müllenkamp found her inability annoying. It made her sound like a eight year when she talked.

"You can call the light forth. Spells still work for you." The giant had relaxed his grip on the axe. Wary but no longer feeling threatened, Müllenkamp dropped out of a defensive stance.

"Yes, I can call forth the light." She used the phrasing he had, hoping that the sentence had come out right. "It is hard. You cannot?"

"There was always dark. I tried to call the light, but it was gone. So I lived in the dark." His voice was distant, hollow, like a child reliving a past horror. Then he shook himself. "There are others in this city. You should not walk here alone."

Something had been bothering Müllenkamp the entire time, a niggling at the back of her mind. Finally she was able to figure out. The giant spoke in the slightly too loud voice of someone who is no longer quite all there. Broken minded, as my people say it. I wonder what the Valendian word for it is?

"You were in the dark a long time. I walk in light. Go with me, and you walk in light." Müllenkamp said slowly. The giant watched her, dark eyes glazed and unreadable. Finally, he gave her an answer.

"I am tired of the dark." The tone held the wistfulness of a lost child. The giant seemed to crumple, sitting abruptly on the ground, unmindful of the dirt and grime. His huge axe was cradled in his lap. "I will go with you. I will protect you. Just don't take the light away."

"I will not." Only now did she resheathe her drawn blade. The Dark will provide. She returned to bags of food she had brought, removed a loaf of bread and a wedge of cheese, and walked over to the giant. Then Müllenkamp offered the food to him. "Eat." He took the food from her hands with extreme care, but ate with all the manners of a mongrel dog once it was in his grasp.

"My name is Müllenkamp." That evoked a reaction. The giant's head came up, a piece of bread protruding from his lips. It would have been funny had it not been for his eyes. They burned with recognition, and a hatred so fierce that Müllenkamp felt it like a physical pain in her being. His knuckles were white where they gripped the axe. I am going to die.

Then it was gone, and flatness returned to those dark eyes. Müllenkamp lay a hand on her chest, listening to her uneven breathing, feeling the wild beating of her heart. Adrenaline still raced through her system. The giant finished chewing the bread he had been eating, then finally spoke.

"My name is Tieger."