Short Story

She could see right across the city from here. The western side of town, a patchwork of light and dark; in which the Crystal inn on the Plaza of Life, stood as the centre piece, light reflectingoff its crystalline front, dominating the whole Plaza. All around flickered lights of the Vanardian night, a mixture of lanterns, and magical luminescence drawing in the inhabitants of the city like moths to a flame. Further west toward the mountain wall, the arena, closed and dark at the moment, a penninsular of darkness jutting into the sea of lights. South of that and with much more spartan lighting stood the barracks, home for both the army and the navy, linking through the mountain to the naval harbour.
To the north on the west side stood the royal palace, home of The Emperor of Vanard, King of Morinde and Jeladark, his daughter Alhana the bitch, and the rest of hisobnoxious family. Moving away from those unpleasant memories to the north-west corner of the city she could just make out the Tower of Magic. The bottom always seemed to be shrouded by dense fog, while the top appeared to disappear into the clouds. It was also the only building in Vanard with no windows.Spotting it at night was almost impossible job though even when it couldn't be seen its watchfullness could be felt. The coming and going of the Mages anywhere in the city at will always seemed to be one of the injustices of life. So what if they had all promised never to enter private property without permission, it just wasn't right.
Dividing east and west was the canal, one hundred metres wide and deep enough to take the ocean going galleys that plyed the southern oceans. At the moment though it was nothing more than a play area for the miriad of pleasure boats that appeared for the night as if from nowhere as soon as the larger vessels berthed.
The eastern side was split into two, with the temples of Strar and Shere Narm either side of the Senate house, all three imposing structures were quiet at the moment. Only a few lights could be seen at the windows of the Shere Narm temple where scribes and scholars sat late into the night poring over the multitude of books housed in the Great Library.
Behind the Senate house was the Elven quarter, not a good place to be seen if you happened to be a dark elf. Rumoured to be the only original part of the city left it was an quarter of aerial walkways and tall graceful towers that were lit at regular intervals by delicate lights, created in all the colours of the rainbow. Wandering through the gardens there this evening, as the honeysuckle's poured forth their evening scent and the nightingales sang to the stars would be an experience to remember over the centuries.
The Elven quarter was almost an independant state, and one of their laws was no Dark Elves, it was a shame they had such long memories. Still it would be the same in her homeland far to the north.
Finaly she returned to the city around where she stood; many small and feeble lights lit the poorest quarter of the city, and the smell was a poor comparison to the aromas of the elven gardens. Here life had a savagery not seen in the other areas of the city, perhaps in orc tribes though , even the city watch moved around it in large armed groups.
She moved forward to the edge of the roof on which she stood, almost invisible in the black night suit, her mane of hair tucked back inside the suits hood. A short leap brought her to the roof of the neighbouring house, from where she began her rooftop journey across the city to the target.The roofs of the city, while not as accessible as the roads, provided a route safe from city watch and nosey bystanders. The only other being via the sewers which were dangerous, smelly and under the complete control of the Sywrch; a clan based society who were not known for their friendship to her guild.
Her body trained from chilhood over a hundred years ago made the exercise of roof running easy, and she had run this route so many times before that she knew by heart all the pitfalls; her thoughts not once turning to those unsuspecting city dwellers going about their business under her feet. When there was enough distance between herself and the guild she found a quiet alley, and putting on a cloak continued the journey at street level. Hours had been spent earlier sitting in front of the mirror trying to hide her dark elf features. The long flowing main of silver hair had been dyed black and make up applied to change her skin colour from the dark grey of her kind to the pale skin of a high elf . Her weapons had been concealed in the cemetery earlier in the day and a small fishing boat had been arranged to leave the city for the south in the early hours of the morning. At this time of night the streets in this part of the city were quiet, left to the less savoury inhabitants who, at night, ruled this part of town, and they seemed unwilling to tackle this high elf, as if they knew there was something more to the solitary figure. Moving out of the slum area past the Barbarians Loin Cloth she entered the middle class mercantile area. Moving quietly past shops that had previously suffered from her attentions she stuck to the quieter streets, avoiding the late night revellers on their way home from the Plaza Of Life. The closer she got to the canal the busier it got, ensuring that the tunnel guards were too busy to pay too much attention to her papers; papers that to be honest could be picked out as fakes by a blind man with no fingers. The southern most tunnel would be busiest as this was an extension of Emperor Avenue, a wide street lined with elegant silver birch trees and small restaurants that led straight to the first of the two large plazas. Reaching the tunnel she found it as busy as expected, the guards stopping only a few of the hundreds crossing back and forth under the canal. Passing the guards proved no trouble, though the same could not be said of the press of people, with so many coming back from the plazas that it had turned into a one way route. This was normally the favourite haunt of the city's beggars, the closest place to westside that they could get without getting moved on by the watch; but now the press of people made begging a hazardous business, and the beggars being the brave souls they are were nowhere to be seen.With some effort she managed to squeeze along a wall against the press, it took a good ten minutes to do what should have been a five minute journey but eventually she emerged onto a much less congested Emperor's Avenue. At this time of night if it almost rivalled the elven quarter. It was fifty yards wide with silver birch trees growing at intervals down the side, and along the centre. In each of the trees several lights had been placed, with the result that the overall effect was stunning, and just a little too bright for her sensitive eyes. Walking up the avenue she became a magnet forall the hawkers and pedlars, selling everything from bootlaces to animals; the Avenue almost becoming a market itself. Turning right just before the plaza she headed off through the streets, past the houses of the rich and powerful, until finally she reached the gates of the cemetery. Checking about, ensuring no one was watching, she climbed over the gates. All was quiet. There were a lot of rumours about the burial ground, and none of them were pleasant; but she just put it down to the normal superstition the living had about the dead. Some said that it had been a burial ground even before the city was built and that it was the only area in the city with no sewerage system running under it. Other stories had it the home of vampires and lich lords. The layout was very informal, paths twisted their way around ancient and knarled rhododendron bushes, that looked as if any second they would reach for the unwary. Quite obviously the dead had been buried here for many years; gravestones could be seen, in amongst the bushes, tipped at all angles the writing almost impossible to read. It was easy to understand why humans, unable to see in the dark, found these places so disturbing. Heading off to where the weapons were hidden she passed the section reserved for the upper echelons of society. Separated from the rest by a large wall, the only way in was by a large wrought iron gate. This led down into a maze of small courtyards off which were the mausoleums of those privileged few. Her mouth watered at the thought of all the riches just lying there waiting to be picked up. However many were protected by magic; she had seen first hand the result of a curse used to punish a grave robber. It wasn't a pretty sight, the same had happened to the poor soul who had taken possession of the stolen goods. So grave robbing was out, even if there had been enough spare time.
The weapons were hidden under a bush, not very imaginative but time had been short, the contract having been placed just yesterday morning. Planning had also been short but by no means sweet, there were just too many vague areas; an escape route being but one. Approaching the bush under which the weapons were hidden she stopped. Keeping to the shadows she watched the area, looking for any signs that the weapons might be under observation. She hated doing this, there was just too much opportunity for someone to find them report it to the authorities and end up with the Silver Heron taking an interest. An unenviable position. Too many of her colleagues had fallen prey to the Heron over the years for her to take them lightly; trained to at least the same standard as members of the guild they also had the resources and the authority of the state, there were too many of the buggers and they had informants everywhere, not pleasant. Thinking of it that way was enough make retirement seem a enticing option, maybe next year. Few things were known about its members, there were rumours that the guild had been a targeted for recruiting in the past; but she knew of no specific cases, which was hardly surprisin. The area seemed clear. Circling cautiously around to the other side she took up position and watched again. Her night sight should have given her a certain confidence but too many times that confidence had proved to be misplaced. Opponents at this sort of level normally found a way to negate any advantage her ancestry bestowed. After several minutes she moved in, the package was still there, a quick scan of the mixture of auras surrounding it indicated no magical tampering, she hoped. She already carried many of her smaller weapons; garrotte, knives etc. so only the pair of short blades and the crossbow had been hidden. The blades were her pride and joy, even now they were worth more than the rest of her assets put together. Enchanted many times they were now capable of inflicting many times the damage expected from blades their size.
The crossbow while not so valuable was made more effective by the use of enchanted bolts; a variety of effects available at a comparitivly small price. Also with the package was a lightweight rope and grapple, some climbing claws, a small enchanted explosive device, for diversions, and an assorted collection of house breaking tools. She would have liked to use poison but the contract was a high enough member of society to have a good chance of being raised. The job had to be certain. She froze, movement behind her, a noise out of place in this burial ground where even the animals seemed to stalk about on tip toe. Dumping the remains of her tools in a belt pouch she drew her short blades. The shuffling noise continued, from behind a bush in between her and the path. What in all Vanard would be moving around a graveyard at this time of night with such little thought to concealment. All the rumours and stories of the place leapt menacingly to the forefront of her mind, ghouls or ghosts, skeletons and vampires. They couldn't be true, not here in the middle of such a large modern city.. From around the side of the bush advanced three figures which she could only describe as walking corpses, and by the looks of them they had been dead for some time.
"Shit." Out running them would be easy, but there was the distinct possibilty that more would be around, and running into them was more of a problem. However run now worry later seemed to be the best course of action. It was a good job the guild required its members to keep a high level of fitness, for after running a short distance she was faced with more, fortunately she smelt this group some time before she ran into them. Unfortunately all this running was beginning to take its toll and when close to the walking dead she noticed her ability to think was diminshed. Though a far more worrying observation was that they appeared to herding her into a particluar direction; towards the walled off mausoleum area. Time for some alternative tactics. Reversing her direction she ran toward where she wanted to go, fishing a herb out of her pouch as she went. This herb was used to remove the stunning effects of heavy blows in combat but with a little luck it would serve to dampen out the shocking effects of the creatures' smell and appearance. Drawing her swords again she beagan preparing a spell that would increase her speed which would surely give her the advantage. This however forced her to a walk and her spell was only just cast in time as three corpses shuffled out of the bushes trying to force her away from her chosen path. Well it was now or never, already the faint tendrils of panic were clawing at her mind, it looked like the herb was not going to work. The creatures now blocked the path down which she ran but only one line deep so maybe she could break through. Then the spell kicked in, as always there was the slight disorientation as it began but then the zombies became almost stationary. This would be easy.........? Sprinting towards them she left the ground about five feet infront of them, somersaulting over the top. As she became vertical upside down over the central ghoul the two blades lashed out, cutting parallel lines down through the middle of its head. Her favorite manoever and only possible with a little magical help. Landing lightly on the other side she sped off towards the gates dropping back to a normal run as the haste spell wore off. Looking back she could see the ghoul using both hands in a vain attempt to hold its head together. Keeping her swords out she scanned each side of the path nervously. Having no experience with the undead all she had to base her actions on were scraps of information passed on by word of mouth. It was well known that they existed, being created by Mages with nothing better to do, but in the middle of Vanard? Those stories about this place were true after all. For the moment she appeared to have elluded them, no more tried to block her path. But as she emmerged from the park things seemed less promising. In front of the main cemetary gates stood a large group of the creatures with what appeared to be a Shemtaa corpse standing behind them. Shemtaa were an offshoot from the main human race, slightly taller, they were stronger and more hardy than their smaller brethern, often holding positions of authority in Vanard. Indeed the royal family and most of the nobles of Vanard were Shemtaa. They also seemed to have an air of authority about them that many found disconcerting but quite obviously helped in their dealings with the rest of society. The prescence of one here was worrying, not that the fifteen others weren't. There appeared to be no movement from their ranks, they stood there just watching her. She started to panic, her spell energy was low and her physical energy while fine at the moment would not last a great deal longer at this rate. As far as she could judge there was no way out. Then suddenly she had a plan. Not particluarly cunning but one that may prevent her from joining the ranks of the living dead. So off back to the mausoleums of the rich and famous heading the way they obviously wanted her to go. The mausoleum area backed onto the outer wall of the burial grounds, so with a bit of luck it would provide the required escape route. Only one problem; no two, the first was having to run past the last lot of nasties and the second; the mausoleum was the most likely place to meet some potentially dangerous undead. The worst thing she had to contend with was the fear. It was well known that undead could affect your thinking, indeed they already had; the prospect of becoming one of them interfering with her normaly rational mind. Although at home in the dark she was beginning to sympathise with humans who found the dark almost alive with malevolence; at even the faintest of noises she would vere to the opposite side of the path pass the noise then move back to the centre. The whole cemetary seemed to have taken on a creeping appearance, even Rhododendrons now looked as though they would reach out and grab her.
Fortunately it wasn't long before she reached the gates of the Mausoleum, silouetted against the glow of the city they looked larger than she remembered. About ten feet high and made of wrought iron the they only added to the unpleasant atmosphere of the place, and they were locked. A huge old padlock secured an equally large chain around the centre of the two gates. Fortunately this wouldn't interfere with the plan. It took very little effort to gain the top of the mausoleum wall and just being up higher made her feel much more confident in her escape. From here she could see the groups of undead converging on the mausoleum; there were several smaller groups and the main one that she had seen at the gate. All the groups were moving very slowly though which made her position a little more comfortable. The mausoleum was about two acres in size, with a ten foot wall surrounding it. This wall became part of the cemetary wall on its east side and it was here that she would leave and continue her contract. A job almost forgotten after the appearance of her nightmares. Things then started to go wrong. Below her on the inside of the wall one of the walking corpes had stopped walking and started climbing. Climbing.......! Zombies Climbing ? Where it had come from she had no idea it certainly hadn't been there a minute ago. Time to run.
All along the inside of the wall zombies were starting to climb. That wasn't too bad at the start but as she ran round the corner some were getting close to the top. Lashing out with her feet she knocked them off the wall with ease, but each time she ran the risk of falling herself. It soon became obvious it was a race against time, she could see the outside wall now and saftey almost within grasp. But now there were zombies on top of the wall, and though not well balanced it wouldn't take much to pull her of as they fell. Her swords came out again, and for the first time in her career she wished for longer blades. All her skill and speed was needed now just to maintain her progress along the wall.She was going to die, she knew it ; with that thought also came a clarity of mind she had never known, before. There was one last option. Using the last of her spell energy she cast another haste spell and leapt off the wall. Landing in the mausoleum she sprinted for the outside wall dodging zombies in a way not possible on a foot wide wall. By avoiding combat she made the wall, and using a zombie as a spring board cleared it. Saved from the undead by a large amount of luck, it ran out when she reached the gound. Landing badly she felt a horrible crunching in her left ankle as it gave way and she collapsed to the floor.