Impossible Library - Week 006.42
A new Grim Chapter
Chapter 5: Kyzogg
They passed wagons laden with corpses, smashed and more desiccated coffins. The path curved, descending to a lower chamber. The ground excavated and bodies removed from their resting places to be dumped in unceremonious piles.
A central pillar dominated the space, adorned with inscriptions and carvings. Cracks ran through the surface, destroying the markings of what Alarik suspected was some ancient, long-forgotten language. Once more, he felt a faint sense of energy, this time emanating from the pillar. He wanted to step closer, to feel that power, but he stopped himself, knowing the danger of this place.
There were more bodies here as well, heaped into disorderly piles, absent of the clouds of flies. Alarik silently thanked whatever gods were watching for that small mercy. He considered that as they passed another corpse mound. The walking dead were free of both flies and maggots… was that some effect of the power reanimating them? About to inspect a body more closely, he noticed the sergeant approaching the pillar. Alarik still had not asked the man’s name, and at this point, cared little to know it. He watched the sergeant in curiosity, but also kept a wary eye out for movement from the darkness. They had not seen the undead on the path down here, which made him extremely nervous.
As the soldier reached out to touch the inscriptions, a rasping voice echoed out from the gloom, “How kind of you to bring an offering of flesh. It is so rare I get to work with an unblemished canvas.“
The sergeant quickly fell back, shield up, head panning for the source of the speaker. “Who’s there? Show yourself, demon!”
“Demon?” The voice laughed, “I am not of the void.”
A fiery green glow in the background shifted, then lurched, before a towering shape emerged from the misty dark. The sergeant cursed and backed away as a walking nightmare stepped into the light on disproportionate legs, one foot twisted inward, forcing it to limp. The torso, disturbingly gaunt. Gangly arms hung at awkward angles, far too long, and tipped in razor-sharp claws. Jutting up from the thing’s back, a cluster of glowing emerald crystals. Worst of all was the heads… two of them. There was no neck, only a pair of sunken skulls covered in stretched flesh to reveal a rictus grin; the left skull was smaller, unmoving and vestigial. The one on the right had eyes that burned with aether fire and a malevolence that pierced Alarik’s soul.
“Ulzuin wept!” The sergeant moaned.
“Steady,” Alarik whispered to the man, not wanting him to panic or flee, while fighting his own fear of doing the same. He swallowed hard, and said much louder, “Who are you?”
“I have been known by many names. Across many worlds.” He scratched his bald pate with the back of clawed fingers, the rasping sound making Alarik wince. “Hmmm…here, in this place, you may call me… Kyzogg.”
“Why are you here? What do you want?”
“I feel this to be obvious? No?” The creature gestured around it, both arms extending wide and grinned, showing a maw of broken teeth. “Body, flesh and bone. My work requires these things… one moment, and I’ll show you.”
There was a deep, resonant murmur, as if Kyzogg were muttering under his breath. The sound vibrated through Alarik’s bones, as if he could feel something ripping free and piercing the veil. Tendrils of aetherial energy flowed from Kyzogg into the corpse piles around them. The air prickled with electricity and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. All at once, some of the limbs began twitching, the mounds shifted and bodies tumbled as corpses rose to their feet. Within seconds, they had become surrounded.
“I believe this will be of particular interest...” Kyzogg said, reaching back to grasp a glowing shard from his back. With a snapping crunch and the tinkling of glass, it broke free. Without hesitation, Kyzogg stabbed the crystal into the nearest walking dead. The wound ruptured, spawning a cluster of smaller crystals. Skin cracked and split, spreading outward as green spectral energy surged forth. From somewhere within, the corpse began to glow, radiating verdant light from its eyes and mouth, aetherial flames sparking and bursting from the cracks in the blackening flesh.
“No, no, nooo!” the sergeant said, his voice cracking as he staggered backwards.
“Sergeant!” Alarik barked, trying to snap the man from his mounting panic. “We are surrounded. If we run, we die.”
“Dying is inevitable, I’m afraid, and alas, we are out of time. My work beckons, so please, do not struggle. I would be displeased if your flesh were to become… damaged.” Kyzogg said, walking towards them, his deep grating voice drawing the words out with each laborious step.
Alarik noticed, despite the length of the creature’s legs, they were pigeon-toed, one bulbous and turned inward, making its gait slow.
“We’re going to die…” the sergeant moaned, his sword arm dipping slightly.
“Fight man! Focus on staying alive, don’t let them surround us,” Alarik shouted, hacking into one corpse, then cutting the leg out from another.
The sudden crash of battle seemed to snap the soldier from his paralyzed state. He lept forward and swept the rotten corpse of a man aside, with a powerful slam. If he weren’t already dead, Alarik thought that might have killed him.
Alarik’s blade took the first undead’s head clean off—the body crumpled. Green light flashed, and he barely got his shield up as the shard-cursed horror lunged, aetheric claws raking deep gouges through wood and metal. He thrust his sword through the glowing monstrosity and jerked back. Nothing—the thing kept coming. Cursing, he threw up his shield as it attacked again. From his peripheral vision, he saw the sergeant finishing another corpse.
As the body dropped, the sergeant sees Alarik holding off the savage attack. With shield raised, he charged, slamming full force into the creature, driving it into the wall, the body exploding into green embers and ashen chunks.
“Wonderful,” the dry rasp of Kyzogg echoed from beyond the pillar. “From your flesh, I shall build a masterpiece.”
Switching to his pistol, Alarik shot the reanimator, a flaming burst of smoke exploding from horror’s chest.
“Yes, yes… do your worst.” Kyzogg laughed, throwing his arms out wide, the glow of energy flowing into the piles, where more bodies began twitching.
“Kill them before they rise!” Alarik shouted, shooting the two nearest ones, then seeing he had a moment of space, reloaded the revolver.
A corpse just getting to its feet crumpled as the sergeant’s blade took its head. “This is impossible! We need to retreat!” he roared.
“Escape?” Kyzogg said, breaking off another crystal and plunging it into the chest of a corpse. “No…escape will not be possible.”
This time the aether cursed thing went for the sergeant, moving fast, leaping, ignoring the slash of the man’s sword, then clawing at shield and armor. With the force and weight thrown at him, the man fell back, landing with a grunt and a cry.
Alarik gritted his teeth, tempted to leave the arshole to his fate. He shook that idea off, giving the monster a kick, sending it sprawling. A bark from the revolver ruptured its head, and it collapsed, dead once more.
Turning back to face Kyzogg, Alarik despaired... another pack of the dead were already up and shuffling towards them. The reanimator held another crystal in his hand and stabbed down to make another of those glowing abominations. They should run, echoed in his mind.
Gritting his teeth and raising his gun, Alarik screamed, “Nooo!”
The barrel flashed red and the flaming shot struck the corpse, right where the crystal protruded from its chest. Instantly, the undead ruptured like rotten fruit, everything above the rib cage vaporized. Meat and gore rained down an instant before Kyzogg’s scream split the air. The horror staggered back, pulling his hand away—his arm was missing, only a ragged bone hanging below the elbow.
Staggering, green flames surged up, spilling out of the monster. He bellowed, “What have you done? I was being gentle… I was being kind. This is what my generosity has earned me. Now… your pain will last… an eternity.”
As he reached up and snatched another crystal, Alarik’s revolver boomed, robbing the reanimator of the nearest undead. The body toppled, with a smoking crater in the chest. Kyzogg grinned and laughed, a malicious spark of green in his flaming eyes, then threw the crystal at the sergeant. The man was hacking and slashing at a horde of the dead. He never saw the glowing shard land.
THOOOOM! The blast vaporized the mass of corpses attacking him. Shards scattered in all directions, the sergeant was blasted off his feet, crashing into a nearby wall, where he rolled and lay still, armor battered and smoking. The walls shook and dust rained down from the hill above.
There were a dozen undead moving towards him, but only a few between Alarik and the reanimator. He raised the barrel and fired, charging forward as he squeezed the trigger. Bodies burst into flames and dropped, or were slammed by his shield as he blasted rounds into Kyzogg’s body. Black holes tore open, spilling burnt blood and gore. The monster staggered, swung his remaining claw, and caught Alarik on the shield, knocking it to the side and slashing across Alarik’s chest.
He rolled, wincing at the pain, feeling hot blood soak his shirt. He holstered the revolver, drawing the blade and slicing off the arms of a corpse that got too close.
“Awww… no more fire? A pity!” Kyzogg crooned. The monster’s tone was mocking, but its body was ravaged. Flesh blackened and cracked, showing green flames burning from some internal forge. Globs of oozing dark crimson goo hissed and popped, splattering to the ground.
“No more fire.” Alarik snarled, and he charged.
He blocked a swipe from Kyzogg, the impact on his shield staggered him, then hacked at the monster’s leg, the blade digging deep. Another rake of the clawed hand knocked Alarik back, and he slashed with his blade in return, chopping two fingers from Kyzogg’s remaining hand.
The claw pulled back, and as Alarik watched it, a foot shot forward, driving Alarik into the dirt. The world spun and he could feel the horde of walking corpses moving in from all around. He pushed himself up to a knee and spit blood before looking up at Kyzogg.
“And here, at the last, your fragile life ends,” the nightmare said, raising that bloated foot up to crush him like a bug.
With a grin, Alarik rolled forward, dodging under the stomp, coming up behind the reanimator with revolver in hand, aimed at the crystal on Kyzogg’s back. “I saved one round… just for you.”
He raised his shield and fired. There was a brilliant flash of green and the cluster shattered, the detonation deafening. The blast wave knocked Alarik back to slam into a pile of bodies, rolling and crashing into the far wall. A score of undead were torn asunder as green crystal shards blasted through their flesh, leaving little but dismembered and flayed chunks. Dust and debris fell from the roof of Burial Hill as coffins and bodies shook loose and smashed down with thunderous impacts.
Alarik crawled to his feet, using the wall to brace himself. Through the smoke, he saw a blackened skeleton remained where Kyzogg once stood. Among the greasy soot, a faint glow emanated from within the pile of ash. Groaning to bend over and investigate, Alarik found Kyzogg’s skull. The bone scorched black, but carved with intricate runes that still glowed with faint power. He slipped the horrifying thing into his satchel—proof of the monster’s defeat—then staggered to the sergeant.
The man was a bloody ruin, his armor dented and pierced by crystal splinters in a dozen places. Kneeling down, Alarik rolled him over to hear a moan of pain and labored breathing. With a sneer, he hesitated, shook his head and said, “I should let you die down here.”
With a heavy sigh, Alarik took out his bottle and poured out a single drop of the magic brew into the man’s mouth. As the sergeant’s body began spasming, Alarik quickly stowed the potion, still not wanting the man to know he had it. Within a few minutes, he was sitting up, gasping for breath and groaning in pain. Several shards were still lodged in his flesh. Alarik made a face, wondering if he should have pulled those out before applying the medicine.
“Whappen…” the sergeant’s words were a mashed up jumble, spilling out with a mouth full of blood.
Alarik gestured to the pile of Kyzogg ash and said, “It’s dead, Sergeant.”
Climbing to his feet, the soldier gasped for breath, plucked a green sliver of glass from his cheek and said, “My name is Sergeant Geoff Mainville.”
Not looking, Alarik said, “I didn’t ask.” then led the way, staggering for the ramp, up and out of the hole.