LITMIR.BIZ

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against algae-covered walls. Planks tethered together floated in the sewer waters, forming crude bridges that connected the stone islands populated by cave shamans and cloaked merchants. Some vendors refused to heed the Sun Temple bell’s warning call, barely audible down below, stubbornly standing their ground, while others urgently packed up their forbidden wares as they prepared to evacuate.

      A cave shaman selling large hairy arachnids and smaller needle-legged ones brandished a dagger in his hand when he spotted the familiars and their human companions approaching.

      Grimslade stepped forward, showing his hands. “We’re just passing through.”

      The merchant cautiously lowered his weapon, just as Gilbert came into the light, still covered in bear entrails.

      “Zombie frog! Keep away,” shouted the spider salesman. He flashed his knife. “My dagger is venom tipped.”

      The cave shaman threw the poisonous knife at the tree frog. It was just about to stab Gilbert when Aldwyn stopped it short with his telekinesis. The blade dropped into the sludge.

      By the time Aldwyn turned back, the shaman had shoved all his merchandise into a burlap sack and pushed off on a small raft.

      “The narrow tunnel to the north leads to the outer moat,” said Aldwyn.

      Suddenly, a scream came from a hooded female merchant packing up her wares. A zombie snake had coiled around her neck. Aldwyn quickly discovered where the snake had come from, as he watched countless more drop from narrow slits in the ceiling above. Whether they landed directly atop merchants or merely beside them, they didn’t wait long to attack.

      Almost instantly, the sewer market transformed into a battlefield, as the cave shamans began to use their black market goods to defend themselves. The snakes were pouring in through cracks in the walls as well, while the familiars, their loyals, and Grimslade ran across the floating planks, trying to escape.

      Up ahead, Aldwyn spotted one of the cloaked merchants sucking down a vial of yellow liquid. Once the glass beaker was emptied, every hair on the merchant’s body stood on end, and sparks crackled from his fingernails.

      He grabbed a zombie snake, frying it instantly. He kicked another one, zapping it backwards.

      “Storm berry juice can have powerful results,” said Skylar, “but crippling side effects.”

      The words had barely escaped her beak when the man’s stomach boomed like there was thunder inside him.

      “Now that’s a storm I don’t want to stick around for,” said Aldwyn.

      “The same thing happens to me when I eat milkweed bugs,” said Gilbert.

      As the group sprinted for a dock at the entrance to the north tunnel, Dalton slipped on a scum-coated log and fell. Skylar’s loyal dragged himself to his knees, but before he could bring himself back to his feet, one of the undead snakes sank its sharp teeth into his calf. A mighty kick from Grimslade’s bronze-tipped boot stopped the snake from taking a chunk out of the loyal’s stomach as well.

      Marianne gave Dalton’s arm a tug to pull him up and resume their run past the battling sewer vendors. One of the vendors was throwing deadly contraptions rigged with whirling blades at the bony reptiles, dicing their skulls and vertebrae into marrow.

      For the moment, the living seemed to be holding their own against the dead, but as more of Paksahara’s army flooded in through the ceiling and walls, Aldwyn knew time was running out.

      When they reached the dock, Skylar flew down and began pecking away at the ropes tethering a large boat. Dalton gave her a hand, unfastening the last of the lines as the rest of the party loaded in. Grimslade spun back and fired off a trio of arrows at the skeletal snakes charging towards them.

      The wooden vessel took off down the northern tunnel, leaving the carnage caused by the undead behind. Now out of immediate danger, the companions were able to breathe easier, but it was slow going through the sewer tunnel. The thick muck was hard to paddle through and the only source of light was Skylar’s illusionary torch, which floated in front of them.

      “How long do you think it will be before the beasts topple the first of the glyphstones?” asked Jack.

      “The queen’s soldiers are brave,” answered Dalton, who had torn off a piece of his sleeve and was using it as a tourniquet on his injured leg. “But courage gives little advantage in a battle like this.”

      Then several glass jars floated out of the darkness. As they bobbed in the water, Aldwyn could see that each had a different spider corked inside. There was little doubt in his mind that they had belonged to the merchant who had paddled off when they first arrived. And Aldwyn suspected the man would not have let his precious arachnids go unless something horrible had befallen him.

      Gilbert shot his tongue out over the edge of their skiff and scooped up one of the jars, which held a prickly rose-coloured spider.

      “Really, Gilbert?” asked Aldwyn.

      “What? I could get hungry later,” replied the tree frog.

      The boat stopped moving as the hull ground up against something hidden in the murk. Despite their attempts to paddle past it, they were unsuccessful: the boat was stuck.

      “What is it?” asked Jack.

      “There’s only one way to find out.” Begrudgingly, Grimslade slipped off his jacket, belt, and crossbow.

      He swung his legs into the water and found himself standing in muck up to his waist. He used all his might to push the boat free. It started drifting forward again and Grimslade was about to pull himself back in when to everyone’s surprise, he was tugged under.

      Loyals and familiars were struck speechless. It was impossible to see anything below the murky surface. Suddenly, Grimslade burst through the water, gasping for air. Right behind him was a zombie crocodile bigger than the whole boat, with shreds of Grimslade’s cloak in its teeth. Dalton grabbed the crossbow and pointed it at the zombie, firing a bolt into the rotting reptile’s corpse. Unaffected, the crocodile dove back under, pulling Grimslade with him. The stray hunter disappeared again.

      Aldwyn bravely stuck his head and paw into the sludge, but it was in vain. There was no sign of Grimslade or the undead creature. Then, just as he was about to come back up for air, Aldwyn heard Grimslade’s voice. It was both far away and yet as clear as if Grimslade was speaking right into his ear.

       This is not how I’m going to the Tomorrowlife.

      Aldwyn darted his head to the left and then to the right, but he couldn’t see where the voice was coming from. Then he was pulled back out of the water by Jack.

      “There’s nothing we can do,” said Jack. “Come on.”

      “We can’t just leave him,” said Aldwyn.

      With a roaring splash, the rotting head of the zombie crocodile emerged once more. It lunged viciously towards them again, taking a bite out of the wooden stern. Dalton, Jack, and Marianne paddled with all their strength through the tunnel and didn’t stop until they reached a small opening in the city wall, which took them out of the sewers and into a moat that stretched across the northern side of Bridgetower. Aldwyn looked back into the darkness and was surprised to feel a pang of loss for Grimslade, who had once been his biggest enemy.

      Now out of the city, the group came ashore safely on the far side of the moat, near a dense tangle of trees. Dalton grabbed Grimslade’s belt and leather pouch in one hand and his crossbow in the other, then climbed out of the boat with Skylar on his shoulder. The others followed him, running for the cover of the nearby woods.

      Once under the tall trees, Aldwyn, Skylar, Gilbert, and their three loyals decided to stop and catch their breath, resting on fallen logs and mossy rocks.

      But their short-lived break was interrupted by a thunderous crash. Aldwyn turned towards the source of the noise and watched as the walls of Bridgetower crumbled. Bricks were trampled underfoot as Paksahara’s Dead Army

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