AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Wiping the cold sweat off my brow, I tell him.
“That bastard,” he says through gritted teeth when I’m done. “This is why we need to catch a leader of one of the Icelus cells. They meet via this dreamwalker, so they should know his identity.”
“Unless he disguises himself even with them,” I say, still shaken.
He waves dismissively. “One leader would lead us to another, until eventually we’d find him.”
“The Nutcracker said he knew what I look like. That narrows our list of suspects drastically.”
“Right.” His dark eyebrows furrowed, Valerian adjusts his mask. “Either Icelus have a dossier on you, or someone you know is a dreamwalker who’s hiding that fact.”
“Or it’s Maxwell,” I say.
“He didn’t see your face, so he doesn’t really know what you look like.”
Oh, yeah. I had the mask on when I met him. But wait— “He could’ve seen me in Dylan’s dreams. Or yours if you connected with him.”
“Highly unlikely. Maxwell hates Icelus even more than I do.”
“How do you know?”
“The vetting,” Valerian says. “During it, Maxwell allowed himself to get glamoured by an ancient vampire and was thoroughly questioned. I don’t know of any way to fool that.”
The adrenaline is leaving my body, and the tiredness is kicking in. “Fine,” I say with a half-yawn. “But I can’t help the feeling that there’s more to Maxwell than meets the eye.”
Valerian peers at me intently. “You think you’ll be able to fall sleep again?”
“I can try.” I close my eyes.
Minutes later, I’m out.
At breakfast, Dylan tells us she saw Maxwell in her dreams again, and he informed her that the work on the cure continues. He also said he dreamwalked in his contacts on all the collaborating Otherlands, and the news he got there is mixed. The deadly Icelus virus hasn’t shown up anywhere, which is good, but the Overtaken threat is spreading exponentially everywhere, which is not so good.
“That tells me the Icelus cell we’re after is the driving force behind the spread of the plague.” Valerian gesticulates with a breakfast sausage made out of a local creature. “We stop them, we stop it.”
“And then we’ll ‘only’ have to deal with legions of the Overtaken,” Itzel says.
We all ponder Itzel’s point for the rest of breakfast, but no one comes up with anything good enough to share with the group.
The rest of the day is identical to the one prior; we ride through the countryside and witness ever more ingenious uses for a zombie labor force. By the next day, the roads become better, and in the afternoon, we see a city that sprawls from horizon to horizon in the distance.
Nulen says something.
“That’s Necropolis,” Dylan translates. “Our destination.”
The city looks more curious the closer we get. There are flying creatures crisscrossing the skies, tall trees that have somehow been made part of the skyline, and skyscraper-high gothic-looking buildings.
Soon, though, the city isn’t what draws everyone’s attention. What we’re gaping at is the truly mind-boggling number of zombies in our way.
Not thousands but millions, they surround Necropolis like an impenetrable wall. Their faces are covered by the same masks as Nulen’s zombies, but these specimens were clearly taller and beefier people when they were alive.
“Cream of the undead crop,” Ariel says, awestruck.
“The best of the zombie best.” Felix’s tone echoes hers.
Everyone else stays mute.
When we approach the zombie wall, the dead clear a path for us and close ranks behind us once we get through.
“Even less chance of going back now,” Fabian mutters.
“Great,” Itzel says in that grumbly manner she’s adopted for most situations on Necronia. “We’re even more screwed than before.”
Further debate is drowned out by a horrible screeching sound as the gates of Necropolis are drawn apart by thousands of zombie arms.
Inside the city, we see that we’re not the only ones using zombies for transport; a lot of Necropolis residents seem to be doing the same. Some ride piggy-back on zombies, like overgrown children, while others sit inside a single-person palanquin or hammock.
What’s different in this city is that there don’t seem to be any humans in sight—only leather-clad necros.
When I ask Dylan, she confers with Nulen and confirms my supposition.
Necropolis is a necromancer-only city.
We ride through the streets until we reach a gloomy-looking building. A zombie opens a door for us as Nulen says something to Dylan.
“He’s asking us to wait here,” Dylan translates. “He’ll go to explain the situation to the Parliament.”
Felix clears his throat. “Does he look purplish red to anyone else?”
We all stare at the necromancer with varying degrees of concern.
Puck. He does indeed look purplish red—like Pom would if he were equal parts happy and mad.
“There’s not much we can do for him,” Valerian reminds us, stepping into the house.
We follow his example, and as soon as we’re all in, the door to the house closes and locks from the outside.
