Chapter 281 - City of Death (Patreon)

Nimbly picking her way through the dense forest, Talia followed Adriel. Even after spending weeks traveling through the strange landscape, she was still awestruck by her surroundings. Most of the trees were covered in stark white bark, with leaves the color of blood. And their red sap followed suit, making the blood oak moniker fitting. There were other types of trees – grey alders and lonely pines among them – but the blood oaks were the most predominant. And that gave the forest an ethereal quality that made it feel almost like walking through a dream.

Of course, that feeling was supported by the dense mist that clung to everything, shifting and flowing around the trees like a rivers of fog. Or the creatures she knew made the forest their home. Some seemed like zombified monsters and animals, but others were simply death-adjacent, like the manticore that had very nearly killed her a few days before. Adriel had dealt with it easily – she had some sort of deathly druid class – but Talia still remembered how terrifying that creature was. That she felt any fear through the veil that was her race was a testament to how horrifying it had been.

But all of that was forgotten the moment they emerged from the trees and looked upon Darukar, the city of the dead. She gasped at the sight. Not because it was old and crumbling as she might have expected. No – it was the exact opposite. Even from such a distance – they were miles away – it was breathtakingly beautiful.

Most of the city seemed to be comprised of black stone, but even in the scant light of perpetual twilight that blanketed the area, it shone with deathly luminescence. It wasn’t light – not really. But rather, it was something else. Something powerful. And it felt welcoming in a way nothing else ever had.

The black stone was trimmed in fanciful red runes, highlighting the sweeping arches and elegant spires. It was a place of strength. Of power. And of death. Talia knew that as certainly as she’d ever known anything. Often, she’d thought of Beacon as the pinnacle of human architectural achievement, but Darukar put the lie to that belief, smothering it so thoroughly that she found herself wondering how she’d ever thought such a thing.

Adriel let out a long sigh before saying, “Ah. It is good to be home. Welcome to Darukar, Talia.”

Home. After her transformation into a revenant, Talia hadn’t considered the possibility of ever thinking of anywhere in such terms. Certainly, Zeke’s tower had been close, but it had always been a place of the living. She was a guest, albeit a welcome one. But ever since her ascension and subsequent placement within the Kingdom of El’Kireth, she’d felt more comfortable than she’d ever thought possible.

According to Adriel, who’d been quite chatty during their weeks-long journey, it was due to the death attunement emanating from Darukar. For undead like them, it was a boon. But it was powerful enough to slowly poison the living until they surrendered to a new awakening as a citizen of El’Kireth or perished. Either way, the person they were would be forever lost.

That was how Adriel had been born. Or that was what the other woman claimed. She’d woven a tale of being a druid who’d somehow found herself stranded within the lands of El’Kireth. She’d tried to resist the transformation foisted upon her, but she had been young and lacked power. As a result, she eventually surrendered. An elf had died, and an undead creature had been born.

Curiously, Adriel had dodged the question of her new race each time Talia had brought it up, though there were some hints. The sharp canines and pale skin reminded Talia of the vampires from Earth’s mythology; she’d been born in the Radiant Isles, so she hadn’t experienced those stories firsthand, but that didn’t keep others from telling tales from their original lives. Even so, it was only a suspicion, and she didn’t have any real context for whether or not human myths were represented in the new worlds.

Not that it really mattered. Everyone had a right to their secrets.

As they stood there, the others in their party emerged from the forest behind them. Each and every one of them gave a sigh of relief as they beheld their city. With how welcoming it felt, Talia could understand their reactions.

As they all stood there, basking in the sight, Talia continued to study her surroundings. There wasn’t much there. Between the forest and the city, she could only see more fog, and the closer it drew to the black walls, the thicker it became, making the city look as if it was resting on a cloud.

A black river cut through the area, flowing along the other side of the city then disappearing into the distance. The fog dissipated over open water, revealing a bevy of boats using the waterway. Some few were clearly fishing vessels, but most were flat-bottomed barges that were probably intended for trade. For such a fantastical city, the presence of such mundane sights was a bit jarring.

But it made sense, after a fashion. Talia could go without food if she wanted to, but there was nothing to suggest that other races of undead were the same. And some likely had similar appetites to humans. So, that explained the presence of the fishing vessels. The barges were even easier to explain – trade was the lifeblood of any kingdom. Even in the Radiant Isles, it had been one of Beacon’s chief concerns. And living or dead, everyone needed something they couldn’t produce themselves. No city was self-sufficient. So, the existence of trade was predictable.

But more than anything, Talia’s eyes were drawn to the persistent column of green light at the center of the city. Because of the distance – and having no frame of reference for the size of the city – she couldn’t really judge how wide it was, but it was big enough to be seen from dozens of miles away. Maybe even hundreds. And it shot so far into the sky that she couldn’t see where it ended.

“What is that?” she asked.

“That is why we recruit so heavily,” Adriel said, her voice even raspier than Talia’s. “We call it the Pillar of Life, and it is the single biggest threat to our existence. However, it is also the source of everything we are.”

“I don’t understand.”

“That’s because the Captain likes to speak in vague riddles,” interjected one of the lower-ranked soldiers, Baruk. To Talia’s senses, he seemed like a typical zombie, but given his sapience, he was clearly something more than he appeared. But Baruk was Adriel’s second-in-command, and Talia had seen him use the enormous, black sword on his back to great effect. So, he had her respect. “That column is pure life energy that emanates from a dungeon nestled deep in the city. We can’t go in it to clear the dungeon and relieve the pressure because of the strong life attunement.”

“Not that we would do such a thing,” said Adriel. “As I said before I was so rudely interrupted by my subordinate – it is the reason for the very death attunement that gave rise to the kingdom.”

“How so?”

“Most of the vital energy in that pillar doesn’t come from the dungeon itself,” she explained. “Some of the strongest emanations do. However, the majority comes from the surrounding area. The dungeon creates a sort of whirlpool that attracts all of the life energy throughout the kingdom, creating a vacuum of power. Somehow – our mages still do not know exactly how the process works – the absence of vital energy gave rise to the death attuned energy that makes this area hospitable to undead. There are even rumors that the first generation were born from the fluctuations created by the –”

“Myths and legends,” Baruk scoffed. “Don’t go trying to indoctrinate the poor girl into your hokey religion.”

“The Temple of Immaculate Origin is not hokey,” sighed Adriel, as if she’d had the conversation a thousand times before. Over the course of their journey, Talia had picked up that the two – superior and closest subordinate – had a very close relationship. Certainly, if Adriel issued an order, Baruk would obey without question, but he didn’t seem to have a problem with speaking his mind. Neither did Adriel take issue with it. The rest of the group behaved more appropriately, telling Talia that the situation between the pair wasn’t simple.

Baruk shrugged. “The official doctrine says that the first generation just appeared out of nothing, born of the purest death-attuned mana,” he said. “Sounds a bit hokey to me. But you believe what you want, yeah? I’m not stopping you.”

“Thank you for your permission,” was Adriel’s sarcastic response. Then, to Talia, she explained, “The closer you get to the Column of Life, the stranger things will get.”

“There’s also the pain to worry about,” interjected Baruk.

“There is that,” Adriel agreed. “The vital energy burrows into you like particularly hungry maggots.”

“Detailed imagery, that,” Baruk said. “And that’s another thing. Sure, we’re all undead here. But why does everyone always use those kinds of metaphors? Nobody – living or dead – likes maggots, but some of us seem obsessed with them. That and coffins. Give me a soft bed, thank you very much.”

Adriel rolled her eyes – a disconcerting expression for the normally stoic woman – and said, “Your sleeping habits and disdain for common vernacular aside, the Column of Life can be deadly to the weaker members of the kingdom. So, it is up to people like us to protect everyone else from the horrors within.”

“Horrors?”

“Flesh abominations,” supplied Baruk. “Giant masses of pulsating meat that roll through the streets and consume everything they can find. Apparently, it takes a lot of energy to grow a few new tumors.”

“Gross,” Talia muttered.

“You got that right,” Baruk said with a lopsided grin. “But here’s the best part – when you kill them – if you manage it, I mean – you get the experience of killing everything it’s consumed. Sometimes, that’s hundreds of kills. Of course, that begs the philosophical question of whether or not the people it eats are still alive. But I don’t usually concern myself with that kind of thing, you know? That’s a good way to never sleep soundly again.”

“Uh…right,” said Talia. “I could see that. But where do I come in?”

“Strength,” said Adriel. “You are low level, certainly. However, your aura suggests that you are far stronger than your level might indicate. All ascenders from the Mortal Plane are. In addition, there is something curious about you. A mix of life and death that reminds me of the areas closest to the Column of Life.”

That wasn’t so surprising. During their journey, Talia had picked up a lot of information, but the most important thing she’d learned was that she was unique in her ability to withstand – or even thrive – in areas that weren’t attuned to death. For most of the undead, life outside of the Kingdom of El’Kireth wasn’t even possible, and even for the ones that were strong enough to withstand so much vital energy, that tolerance was temporary and weakened them significantly. Only the most powerful were unaffected.

And Talia.

She’d never felt any discomfort in the Radiant Isles, which suggested that she was far more tolerant than someone of her level was supposed to be. In addition, she’d learned that it was incredibly uncommon for an undead – regardless of race – to ascend from the Mortal Realm. Again, that wasn’t terribly unexpected, what with the unique nature of her transformation into a revenant.

But then again, she didn’t have enough information to make any real judgements, so she resolved to refrain from jumping to any conclusions until she could rectify that lack. Adriel, Baruk, and the others hadn’t given her any reason to distrust them, but then again, they didn’t need to. Talia was stranded in the middle of an unfamiliar and dangerous land, and they’d offered protection. Because she wasn’t certain that she could protect herself alone, she was beholden to them for now.

“So, what now?” she asked.

Adriel answered, “We go into the city, where we’ll get you registered.”

“Registered?”

Baruk spoke up, “With the Deathguard. Stupid name, I know. More fascination with –”

“The Deathguard is the city’s defense force,” Adriel interrupted, glaring at her undead lieutenant. He didn’t seem to care, though. “We patrol the borders and keep the…things from escaping the Column. Without us, Darukar would fall within days, consumed by the creatures spewed forth by the dungeon and the mutated things close to the Column.”

“Like the flesh abominations,” Baruk helpfully supplied. “I mean, they’re not even the worst, though…”

“Don’t scare the girl, Baruk,” Adriel admonished. Then, to Talia, she said, “No one will expect you to fight a flesh abomination at your level.”

“And if I don’t want to join this…Deathguard?” asked Talia. It really was a stupid name, at least from her perspective.

“See? She thinks it’s a stupid name, too,” Baruk said. “It’s all about branding. I still maintain that our biggest problem is –”

“If you choose not to join the Deathguard, you will be released into the city to fend for yourself,” Adriel stated. “After that, you can do whatever you want. If you have a trade, you’ll be allowed to practice it. Or you can simply leave. Some do, thinking that they can find acceptance in the lands of the living. None of those ever come back, so perhaps they do find what they seek.”

Or more likely, they were killed. Talia had enough experience with the living to know just how they were likely to react to someone like her. That she’d found a group of companions who accepted her was a stroke of good fortune that she hadn’t truly appreciated before. Now that they were scattered across the world, Talia keenly felt the loss of her friends. Particularly Zeke and Pudge, though she would have even accepted Tucker’s companionship.

Abby could go die in a pit for all Talia cared, though.

But the question remained whether or not she wanted to join this new organization. It seemed like the decision had been thrust upon her without warning, and she was expected to make a choice before she even had an opportunity to think it through. However, she also knew that, aside from fighting, she had no other skills. Her whole life had been spent in preparation to become an adventurer, and so, she didn’t know what she would even do if left to her own devices.

More than that, though, she liked the idea of being accepted. She’d never had that – except from Zeke – and she hadn’t realized how much she craved it.

But most of all, she wanted to get stronger. The Deathguard offered that. So, even in the absence of any other reasons, that was enough to prompt her to nod, saying, “I think I’ll join your little organization, then.”

“Good! The more the death-ier,” said Baruk. Then, he cocked his head, saying, “Deadlier? By all the gods, adding death to everything is so stupid.”

“What Baruk is trying to say is welcome,” Adriel stated simply. “Let’s go and get you registered, then.”

With that, Adriel strode forward, and everyone else – including Talia – followed her into Darukar.