Escape from Undermountain n-3 Read online

  Before she could reply, the ship suddenly tilted to the side again, nearly sending them sprawling to the deck. Artek looked up to see a figure standing before the ship's wheel.

  "Corin!" he shouted angrily, marching forward. "Didn't I tell you to keep your hands off that wheel? Now get away from the-"

  His words faltered as he saw the lord look up in pale-faced surprise from his seat on the old crates. If Corin wasn't steering the ship, who stood at the wheel?

  As if to answer the question, the figure turned around and grinned. Artek's blood froze. The thing was clad in grubby breeches and a loose, tattered shirt that once might have been white. A grimy red scarf covered its head, and a curved cutlass hung from its cracked leather belt. It was a pirate, clearly long dead. Its bloated flesh was wet and rotted, and one eyeball dangled loosely from the socket. The sickly reek of decay drifted thickly through the air. Even as Artek watched, a chunk of putrid flesh dropped from the pirate's arm, falling to the deck with a nauseating plop.

  "Artek, I think you'd better turn-around," Guss said grimly.

  Reluctantly, Artek tore his eyes from the undead pirate. He turned to see a trapdoor opening in the deck of the ship. More pirates climbed out, shambling as they spread across the deck. Artek counted ten of them, then twenty, then thirty, and still they kept coming. All wore rusted cutlasses at their hips. And all of them were quite dead.

  The crew of The Black Dart had not abandoned the ship after all.

  River of Death

  Dropping stray gobbets of rotten flesh, the zombie pirates shuffled toward them.

  Artek heard a wet, squelching sound and glanced over his shoulder. Panic clutched at his heart. More half-decomposed zombies clambered out of a trapdoor near the prow of the schooner. The scent of decay wafted in the air, thick and choking. Clutching Muragh, Corin stumbled hastily toward Artek, Beckla and Guss close on his heels. Back to back, they all huddled together in a tight knot, staring in horror at the approaching zombies.

  "There must be at least forty of them," Artek said.

  "Sometimes I hate being right," the wizard sighed.

  "Well, this time your guess was dead on."

  "Must you use that word, Ar'talen?" Corin asked in a squeaking voice.

  "What word?" Artek demanded.

  The nobleman swallowed hard. "Dead."

  There was no time to reply. The zombies closed in, trapping them in a foul circle. Beckla raised her hands, ready to cast a spell. Guss extended sharp onyx claws. Corin tossed down Muragh and drew his slim rapier in trembling hands. Artek's fingers brushed the hilt of the saber at his hip. He hated to draw the cursed weapon, knowing that once he did he would not be able to stop fighting until all the zombies were destroyed-or he joined them in death.

  The pirates shuffled to a halt not a half-dozen paces away, exuding a noisome reek, and then one of their number shambled forward. By its tattered red kneecoat and the gold earring dangling from its moldy ear, Artek guessed that this zombie had been in life the captain of The Black Dart. A decomposed parrot missing most of its feathers still perched on the captain's shoulder, clinging with skeletal claws to the tarnished epaulets of the captain's coat.

  "Aaawk!" the bird gurgled. "Stooowaways, captaaaain!"

  "Aaaye, sooo theeey beee," the captain replied in a slurred voice. Writhing worms dropped from the zombie's festering lips. "Aaand yooou knooow whaaat weee dooo wiiith suuuch laaandlubbers."

  "Aaawk!" the parrot cried again. " Waaalk the plaaank! Waaalk the plaaank! Waaalk the pl-" The bird's bubbling cries ended abruptly as its rotted beak fell off.

  The captain pointed a bloated arm toward a group of about ten pirates. "Yooou. Taaake theeese stooow-aways tooo theee plaaank. Theee reeest ooof yooou looouts, maaan yooour staaations!"

  Artek and the others watched in grisly fascination "as the zombie pirates shuffled off to reenact the tasks they had performed in life. A dozen pirates climbed clumsily into the ship's rigging. Several promptly fell back down to the deck, landing with wet, nauseating thuds, then lurched to their feet to try again. Other zombies began swabbing the deck with ragged mops. They made little progress, for every time they cleaned an area to their satisfaction, a gobbet of their own putrid flesh dropped to the deck and had to be wiped up. Still other undead pirates manned the schooner's booms and lines.

  "Look out!" Corin cried in terror.

  They ducked just in time to avoid a whistling boom as it swung overhead. One of the nearby zombies was not so quick. The cross-mast struck it in the forehead, and its cranium burst apart like an overripe melon.

  That's got to hurt," Muragh winced.

  The zombie captain shambled toward the ship's wheel. "Ooout ooof myyy waaay," it groaned to the pirate who had been piloting the ship. The sailor-tried to let go of the wheel but was too slow. The captain pushed it roughly aside. With a rending sound, the sailor's arms tore off at the shoulder and dangled from the wheel by their still-gripping hands. The armless zombie tottered away, its shoulders dripping yellow ichor. Disregarding the severed limbs, the captain grabbed the wheel and began steering. The schooner lurched wildly to the left, then gave a violent jerk, hull groaning, as the keel scraped against an underwater boulder.

  Beckla and Corin both grabbed hold of Artek to keep from being thrown to the deck.

  "Is that thing deliberately trying to run this ship onto the rocks?" Beckla cried.

  "Probably," Artek answered grimly. "But I don't think it's just the captain. Can't you hear it? The roar of the river is getting louder. I think we're approaching rapids of some sort."

  "Oh, wonderful," Beckla groaned. "This creaky old ship will be dashed to bits."

  "I think we have an even more immediate concern," Corin gulped.

  The ten zombies that had remained surrounded them, grabbing them with cold, damp hands.

  "Tooo theee plaaank," one of them moaned, its breath a fetid exhalation of rot.

  "Get your clammy paws off of me!" Beckla snapped. "I'll walk on my own!" She jerked her arm away from the zombie that held her, then gagged. The zombie's hand had broken off and continued to clutch her arm. With a cry of disgust, she shook off the putrid hand. It fell to the deck and scuttled away like a drunken spider.

  The zombies shoved them forward, leading them toward the port side of the ship. They stopped before a rickety wooden plank that protruded from the deck over the rushing waters of the Sargauth. Artek saw that the river was indeed giving way to rapids. The swift waters broke and frothed upon sharp spurs of stone. Once again the schooner jerked and shuddered, its timbers groaning alarmingly.

  They stood in a tight knot before the plank. Behind them the zombie pirates drew corroded cutlasses, barring any avenue of escape.

  "Maybe we'll be better off in the river than aboard the ship," Corin murmured hopefully.

  Beckla eyed the violent waters below, then shook her head. "We'd never survive the river. If we didn't freeze to death first, we'd be dashed against the rocks."

  "Excuse me," Guss whispered. "I have a plan. I know it's terribly rude of me, but would you mind if I went first to the plank? These fellows don't seem very bright, what with their rotten brains and all. I don't think they've noticed my wings."

  Artek stared at Guss in astonishment. Even in an emergency, the gargoyle was exceedingly polite. However, he had time for nothing more than a nod. One of the zombies brandished its cutlass menacingly.

  "Aaall riiight," the pirate droned in its mushy voice. "Whooo's fiiirst?"

  Guss raised a clawed hand. "That'll be me," he said cheerfully. "Be ready," he whispered to the others, then stepped onto the plank. The undead pirate followed after him, poking him with the cutlass, urging the gargoyle on. Finally, Guss ran out of plank. With a cry, he dropped down and disappeared into the gloom below. The pirate slowly turned around, grinning. Several yellowed teeth dropped from its rotting gums. "Neeext?" the pirate asked.

  Before the others could react, a dark form rose suddenly from below and struck the u
nderside of the plank. With a look of dull surprise, the zombie pirate bounced into the air, then plunged downward to be swallowed by the roaring waters of the Sargauth. Wings beating frantically, Guss rose higher into the air.

  "Now!" the gargoyle cried to the others, green eyes glowing ferally.

  Artek did not need to be told twice. While the remaining zombies gaped in dim-witted astonishment, he drew his saber and leapt forward, swinging. The sharp blade bit deeply into rotten meat, cleaving a pirate in twain. The two halves of the zombie fell wetly to the deck, twitched, then ceased moving. Directly behind him, Beckla shouted a harsh word of magic. Blue energy sprang from her fingertips and engulfed one of the zombies. It let out a shrill scream as-its putrid flesh sizzled and bubbled, then it exploded in a spray of foul gobbets.

  "I think you overcooked that one, Beckla," Artek said in disgust, wiping bits of rotten meat from his face.

  "Sorry," the wizard replied, shaking shreds of zombie from her clothes.

  Though slow of thought, the seven remaining pirates had finally realized they were under attack. Raising their rusty cutlasses, they lurched forward. Artek raised the cursed saber, suddenly finding himself facing three of the creatures. Their blows were slow and clumsy, but they outnumbered him, and he was barely able to counter their swings. Two zombies trudged toward Beckla. She managed to roast one with another spell, then the other closed in. There was no more time for magic. She drew a small knife from her belt and dodged the swing of the pirate's notched blade. With a roar, Guss swooped down, plucked up one of the zombies assailing Artek, and tore it to shreds in midair. Artek momentarily froze, startled by the gargoyle's sudden ferocity.

  Then a cry of fear caught his attention. Artek parried several blows, then turned his head and saw Corin backing toward the rickety railing of the deck as a pair of zombies advanced on him. Artek tried to dodge the two pirates before him, but they blocked the way. He couldn't get to Corin. If the foolish lord died, then their battle was in vain.

  Corin nudged against the ship's railing and could go no farther. Leering hatefully, the two shambling corpses closed in on the nobleman. Shaking in fear, Corin thrust his rapier before him, gripping the hilt with both hands. He squeezed his eyes shut, clenched his jaw, then proceeded to wave the sword in a fancy and ridiculously embellished maneuver-no doubt learned from some foppish fencing master who had never faced a real enemy in his life. The slim rapier whistled through the air, nearly invisible as Corin slashed, circled, and thrust with a bad actor's flamboyance. Finally he lowered the sword and cracked his eyes. The zombies only grinned, apparently unaffected by his efforts. They raised their cutlasses.

  As they did, the sword hand of one of the zombies fell off, sliced clean at the wrist. The undead pirate gaped at the oozing stump in mindless confusion. A moment later, its entire arm fell off at the shoulder. Then its nose slipped from its face, followed by an ear. Then all at once, the zombie fell apart into a score of neatly sliced pieces that tumbled quivering to the deck. Corin stared at his rapier in amazement.

  Though only four zombies remained, things still looked ill. Corin’s second foe was too close for the nobleman to try another fancy maneuver. Beckla's knife was proving to be no match for the cutlass of the pirate who faced her. Still fending off the blows of a zombie on either side, Artek was unable to make headway against either. Guss hovered in midair, uncertain which of his companions most needed his help. There was time to aid only one.

  At that moment the schooner was swept into churning rapids. The ship lurched violently toward starboard, then a half-second later tilted toward the port side again. Corin fell sprawling on all fours. His foe clumsily tripped over him, flipped head over heels, broke through the railing, and tumbled overboard. The zombie facing Beckla lurched forward, impaling itself on her outthrust knife. She spun to the side, jerking her blade out of its body, and the pirate fell flailing over the side of the ship. Artek managed to keep his feet planted on the heaving deck and took advantage of the confusion, severing the head from one of his flailing opponents.

  Now that only one zombie remained, Guss did not hesitate. The gargoyle swooped down from above and plucked up the last of the ten pirates. Clutching the creature in midair, he raked the pirate's belly with his hind claws. Entrails spilled out like dark snakes, but the zombie was not defeated. It swung its cutlass blindly. The rusted metal bit into the flesh of Guss's shoulder, then shattered. Guss let out a cry of pain as brilliant green blood streamed down his arm. He clenched his clawed hands, rending the zombie in two, then flung the still-squirming halves into the raging waters of the river.

  Breathing hard, Artek looked around. The rest of the zombie crew still went mindlessly about their various tasks, taking no notice that their undead shipmates had been destroyed, or that the prisoners were now free. The cursed saber jerked in his hands, tugging him toward the nearest zombies. Forcibly, he tried to sheathe the magical blade, his face twisting with effort. The muscles of his arms rippled and bulged, but it was no use-he could not release the saber. As long as there were zombies remaining, the cursed blade would force him to fight. The sword pulled him another step toward the nearest pirates.

  "I can't resist the saber much longer," he said through clenched teeth. "And I have a bad feeling that as soon as I attack one of the zombies, the rest of them will come after us."

  "You're probably right," Beckla agreed somberly, slipping her bloody knife beneath her belt. «I’ll help you keep your ground."

  "No, stay back!" cried Artek. "I might hit you with the saber. That goes for all of you-keep away!"

  "Where's Guss?" Corin asked as he climbed to his feet.

  "Here I am!" a rumbling voice called from above. Stubby wings beating up a stiff breeze, Guss dropped down from the darkness and settled onto the rolling deck.

  Beckla moved quickly toward him, concern in her brown eyes. "Guss, you're hurt!" She examined the ragged wound on his arm. Bits of dirt and rust were embedded in the cut, and it already looked as if it were beginning to fester. "We need to clean this wound now. There's no telling what filth was on that zombie's sword."

  Guss wiped the sweat from his brow with a clawed hand. "There's no time."

  "What's going on?" Artek demanded, straining against the pull of the saber. His boots skidded on the slimy planks as he slid another foot forward. Once again the ship tilted wildly to the side, then slowly righted itself.

  "While you were recovering, I flew ahead of the ship to scout out the rapids," Guss explained quickly. The others listened in growing dread as the gargoyle described what he had seen. "We're in the worst of the rapids now-it doesn't get any rougher than this. I think we can make it. But up ahead, the cavern and the river both divide. Down the right-hand passage, the waters grow calmer."

  "And down the left?" Beckla asked nervously.

  Guss's long pause was as terrifying as the words that followed. "Farther down the left-hand passage, there's a great roar. The river drops over a huge waterfall. I don't know how high the falls are." The gargoyle licked his scaly lips with a green tongue. "I couldn't see the bottom in the dark."

  Artek swore, still fighting the saber's pull. "The captain has been keeping the ship to the left side of the cavern. He must be steering The Black Dart toward the waterfall."

  "But why?" Corin asked fearfully. "The ship will be broken to bits."

  "Why not?" Beckla replied. "The captain's already dead. What does he have to lose?"

  Artek racked his brain until he hit upon a plan. It was not elegant-hardly the level of the crafty thieving jobs he had executed in the past-but it was all he could come up with. He struggled against the murderous will of the cursed saber. He had to remain in control only a few moments more, and then the blade could do its work.

  "Guss," he gasped. "Fly ahead of the ship and keep watch on our progress. Call out when we're near the fork in the river. Beckla, Corin-try to find a way to distract the crew. Use your imaginations! Anything you can do to gain their attention wit
hout getting yourself killed will work."

  "But what are you going to do?" Beckla asked urgently.

  "I'm going to try to convince the captain to change our course,"

  With that, they set to their tasks. Guss rose into the air, wings flapping. He disappeared into the gloom ahead, though not before the others saw him grimace in pain and clutch at the wound on his arm. Grunting with effort, Artek managed to turn and point the quivering saber toward the prow of the ship. The zombie captain stood before the wheel, spinning it wildly as The Black Dart careened down the rapids.

  "There," Artek whispered fiercely. "That is our enemy. That is the one we must slay."

  To his wonder and relief, the saber seemed to understand his words. It jumped in his hands, ignoring the other zombies, and pulled him toward the pirate captain. This time Artek did not resist. He let the saber lead him toward the prow. It was time to stage a mutiny.

  Beckla rummaged through a heap of crates, barrels, and assorted refuse. There had to be something here that would help them.

  What are you doing, Beckla? cried a voice in her head. This wasn't part of the deal. They're as good as dead. You should use it now!

  "There's still time," she muttered under her breath.

  Time for what, Beckla?" Corin asked. The nobleman stood nearby, wringing his hands.

  Beckla swore inwardly. She was getting careless. That was the surest way to get herself killed. And getting killed was definitely not the point of this exercise.

  There's still time to help Artek," she said firmly.

  Beckla flipped open the lid of an old chest. It was filled with rusted fishing gear, none of it worthwhile. She started to let the lid drop back down when two objects caught her eye. She looked up at Corin.

  "Can you shoot a bow?" she asked quickly.

  The young lord shrugged. "I studied archery as a lad, as all nobles do." A wan smile crossed his pale visage. "I wasn't half bad, if I do say so myself. Why do you ask?"