Dreamer's Throne - Book 3: Chapter 10

It began with the wind taking on a faint howl, a monstrous scream at the edge of everyone’s hearing. Those out in the street grew uneasy, unable to shake the intense feeling of doom that shrouded them. The wind snapped and tore like spectral fingers, seeking to pull everything loose as it rushed through the city. The storm had come suddenly, and according to those who were watching closely, it appeared to have risen from the graveyard itself.

The rain came next, fierce sheets of water that poured down like black ink, soaking the city in growing darkness. In the areas under the family’s control, Garrett’s words echoed in the hearts and heads of every family member, carried by the flowers in their hearts and the strength of his voice spurred them to action. The vague fear they felt was replaced with anxious certainty, and they hurried home, beginning to prepare the defenses the family had discussed.

Each household was to gather together in the largest house on their block, leaving their own homes empty. On the one hand, it was safer for the members of the Klein Family to gather together, as larger groups would have an easier time defending themselves from the undead that would soon swarm the streets. However, that had to be balanced against the fact that as soon as the zombies breached a home, everyone in it was likely going to die, transformed into the very undead they sought to defend against. The more people congregated together, the more damage each breach would do, and since it was almost inevitable that there would be breaches, Garrett had opted to have the family gather in groups of twenty, hoping that that would be enough people to defend against the horde, while being few enough to not create a cascading failure.

Most of the citizens didn’t have the proper tools and weapons they would need to fight against the undead, so for the last week, the Klein Family had been busy creating long poles with sharpened, forked ends that could be used to keep the undead at a distance. Others held long-handled hammers and clubs that could be used to smash the zombies’ heads once they were pinned down. There had been no time for real training, but everyone had been issued instructions. Those with the sharpened forks were tasked with pinning the zombies in place if they breached the house’s defenses while those with the hammers would have to step forward and deliver fatal blows, crushing the zombies’ skulls, to keep them from continuing to attack.

Through the blooms present in each of the members of the Klein family, Garrett watched the preparations, his fingers tight on the armrests of his chair. He found sitting in bed too passive, so he had pulled himself out and gotten himself into his chair. Hearing a knock on the door, he did his best to relax, taking a deep breath and letting it out.

“Come in.”

The door opened and Obe stuck his head in.

“Boss, have you looked outside?”

Frowning slightly, Garrett shook his head, sending his awareness into the dream flowers at the door to the inn. There he caught images of a large group huddling close together in the rain. He could tell from Obe’s expression that the man wasn’t sure what to make of this situation and was looking for some clarity.

“No. What’s the matter?”

“A bunch of people have shown up,” Obe said, licking his lips nervously. “A gang, from the looks of it. They’re all armed.”

Garrett’s mind stilled as he tried to process what Obe was saying.

“A gang? Why is there a gang here?” He asked.

Obe shook his head. “That’s what I’m not sure about. They call themselves Cleaver’s Edge. They’re from over east of here, in the territory the Ebony Association controls.”

The name wasn’t familiar to Garrett, but as much as he wanted to tell them to go away, the fact that dozens of armed men were standing outside of his home base didn’t bode well. Sending a command to Isabelle, who was still flitting around the district, Garrett gestured for Obe to come and push him.

“Let’s go see what they want,” he said, massaging the back of his neck.

As Obe pushed him out into the hall, Garrett tried to keep track of everything that was going on. There was so much information coming in that it was growing hard to keep himself focused. But all of that changed when he saw the gang members arranged outside of the inn. It was clear that they had come for war, and from the sneering expression on the face of their leader, Garrett could only assume that there was going to be trouble. A quick count revealed 16 heavily armed men, all dressed as mercenaries and bearing the symbol of the Cleaver’s Edge, a jagged-looking blade set over a black shield. Obe wheeled him out of the front door of the inn and onto the porch, coming to a stop a few feet from the leader of the armed group.

“Welcome to Dreamers Inn,” Garrett said, his voice much calmer than he actually felt. “How may I help you?”

“You’re the one in charge of this gang?” The leader asked, taking a step closer and peering at Garrett through the rain.

“I am,” Garrett said.

He heard a click, and an umbrella opened up above him, as Ryn appeared next to him. He could tell from how white her knuckles were that she was feeling just as much stress as he was, but Garrett was gratified to see her other hand rested on the dagger at her hip.

“We’ve come to help.”

The words that he heard coming out of the leader of the Cleaver’s Edge’s mouth stunned him, and it took Garrett a moment to process.

“I’m sorry? What did you say?”

Slapping his chest, the man took another step forward and leaned over Garrett, raising his voice as if Garrett was hard of hearing.

“My name’s Coleridge. We owe a favor to Cynen of the Grave Walkers, and she sent word that you needed help. So that’s why we’re here.”

Stunned by the revelation, it was all Garrett could do to keep his composure. He had never imagined that Cynen would do something like this, but it was clear that she had called in a favor, one tremendously helpful. She hadn’t mentioned a single thing about it, clearly wanting to surprise Garrett, which she had.

“We can use all the help we can get so you are very welcome,” he said, gesturing to the door of the inn. “Please come in out of the rain, and I’ll tell you what you can do.”

“Hear that, boys? Let’s get a drink,” Coleridge said, causing the rest of the group to cheer.

As they trooped in past Garrett, he saw a commotion at the end of the street, and another group walked towards him. These were adventurers, decked out in matching armor and carrying heavy weapons. When they got close, their leader, a scarred woman, held up her hand and they stopped.

“Are you Garrett?” She asked, her voice gruff. “Cynen sends us. She called in a favor and said we’re to help you.”

Over the next few hours, another three groups of awakened arrived, one more gang, and two small adventuring groups. They had all come because of Cynen’s call and once they were gathered in the inn’s common room, with a drink in hand to ward off the cold rain, Garrett had Obe clap to get everyone’s attention so he could address them.

“Thank you for answering the call,” he said, looking around. “This part of the city is about to face a very challenging time, and it is encouraging to see all of you stepping up to help.”

“Don’t get it wrong,” Coleridge interrupted, “I’m here because I owe Death’s Flame a favor, and that’s it. As soon as that favor is repaid, we’re out.”

Seeing the other groups nodding, Garrett held up his hand.

“I understand, but you should know what it is you’re getting into before you find yourself stuck. Within the next five or six hours, we will likely see an undead wave rising from the graveyard and coming to attack us.”

An older mercenary choked on his drink and slammed his cup on the table, startling everyone around him. He stood up, his one good eye burning a hole in Garrett.

“Is the night of undeath upon us?”

By now, Garrett had everyone’s complete attention, and he nodded, his expression cold and calm.

“It is. The true name is the March of Lesrak, and the leader of the Grave Walkers, Cynen Death’s Flame, was able to figure out when it was going to happen. She has gone with a team to try and eliminate the problem at its root, cutting off the source of the undead’s power. However, until she succeeds, we should expect waves of undead to hammer our defenses. Obe, can you get me the map?”

“Yes, boss.”

It only took a few minutes before Obe was back with the large map of the city that sat in Garrett’s office. He leaned it up on the table next to Garrett and held it while Garrett pointed to the section where the Dreamer’s Inn was located.

“Our line of defense starts here, at the edge of the graveyard. This is where the Grave Walkers are making their stand. We have a secondary line of defense here, at Delver’s meat plant. That is where we expect the brunt of the fighting. However, we are dealing with undead, so it’s nearly guaranteed that they’re going to spread out, infecting as many people as they possibly can. Our goal is not to eliminate the threat in its entirety, that is Cynen’s job. Our task is minimizing the impact of the undead as much as possible. We do this by trying to funnel them into specific battlefields where they can be killed smoothly. However, I would expect that for the next few days we will be locked in a battle with the undead.”

Hearing a voice swear, Garrett paused and looked at the scarred adventurer.

“I’m sorry,” the woman said, shaking her head. “Continue. I just hate undead.”

From the room, the awakened warriors nodded. Clearly, everyone Cynen had gathered had bad experiences with the undead, which would make them ideal front line warriors to protect this part of the city.

“You’ll get your fill of fighting them,” Garrett said with a small smile. “Of that, I am positive. Depending on the size of your group, I will be giving you a different area to patrol and guard. The adventurer teams will remain here at the inn, and will be sent out to help support the places with the most intense fighting.”

After giving out instructions, Garrett retreated from the great room, leaving Obe to hand out instructions. As he had talked to them, he had reorganized the plan in his head and communicated it to his lieutenant so he could, in turn, pass it on to the awakened fighters. When he sensed the reinforcements Cynen had sent leaving the inn to take up their positions, Garrett couldn’t help but feel much more hopeful. He wheeled his way back to his room, his mind alive with the new possibilities that the reinforcements could mean. Though it would still be a tough fight, the addition of nearly thirty more awakened under his command meant that there was a good chance most of the members of the Klein family would survive. Before, he had been almost certain that fifty to seventy-five percent of them would fall to the undead in the chaos, but now there was a real chance that they would actually be able to defend themselves.

The biggest advantage was that they now had enough awakened to stem the tide above ground. This would mean that the undead would have to go underground if they wanted to get close to the inn, likely their ultimate goal, which meant they would be ripe targets for the flower ghouls who were guarding the tunnels. Though this appeared to be a generalized attack against the entire city, Garrett knew full well that this was actually a direct conflict between him and Agma-Yoth. That meant that he was the primary target of the attack, and that most of the enemy forces would be focused on getting to him.

Agma-Yoth was playing an interesting game by making the focus of his attack a physical one through deploying his minions, but Garrett wasn’t foolish enough to think that this was going to be the only attack vector. He still remembered the terrifying battle between the two chosen that he had witnessed in the Dream, and it was likely that Agma-Yoth had chosen of his own. To defend against attacks through the Dream, Garrett had Isabelle and her army of Pale Fiends from inside the ghost mirror, while his flower ghouls were covering the underground and the human awakened were guarding the streets. At the center of all of this, Garrett sat in the inn. He didn’t bother to hide himself, though he easily could have, instead electing to make himself a highly visible target so it would be easier to predict his enemy’s moves.

When he got back into his room, Garrett pulled himself up onto his bed and lay down, closing his eyes and entering the dream. Appearing on the dreamer’s throne, he felt the gentle energy it contained giving him a measure of relief. Just as he was trying to organize the many sights and sounds filtering through his network of dream flowers, he heard Isabelle from high up in the sky above the city.

“Master, the undead are starting to move.”

His vision flickered as he took control of her to see what she had spotted. He was currently in a raindrop half a mile above the city, and despite the darkness, he could see it laid out before him, faint lights glittering in a sea of black. At first, he wasn’t sure what she had been referencing, but then he saw it. Down below on the northern edge of the city, where the graveyard extended out into the land beyond the city wall, something stirred. It looked at first like hundreds of ants shifting, swarming towards the city wall. But as he fell through the air, Garrett could sense the change in the wind. There was a deep stench carried by the fierce storm, and as the undead reached the wall and began to climb over it, Garrett saw more and more rising up out of the graveyard to join them.

The graveyard was organized in two major sections. Inside of the city was the royal graveyard, where the kings and queens of old and all of the nobility were buried. Outside of the city, just beyond the city wall, was an even larger graveyard, where the commoners were interred. Garrett felt like an idiot that he had focused all of his attention on the internal graveyard, without ever having given a thought to the humbler and much larger commoners’ graveyard that sat outside the city. It made absolute sense that this was where the main force of the attack would reside, and as hundreds and then thousands of zombies swarmed toward the wall, Garrett knew there was no going back. Either they would succeed in killing the great ruler, Agma-Yoth, the Skeletal Hand of Lesrak, or they would find themselves transformed into undead themselves. Returning to the Dreamer’s Throne, Garrett commanded Isabelle to keep an eye on the situation at the wall, and then began to issue his commands, sending teams to intercept the undead before they could make it into the city proper.