Tag: corruption zombies

8.20 – Armory

Hi, Everyone! Allene here. We’re going to try something special with book 8, assuming I don’t exhaust myself in the process. In an effort to get my rankings higher on TWF and RRL, I’m aiming to post two chapters/day for the next two weeks (so, 28 chapters in 2 weeks, or what will probably be most of the book), and then go straight into book 9 when it’s done. Wish me luck!

The trick with the runes gave them a chance to get out of the dungeon, but they could only do it once. There simply wasn’t time, while dodging the flesh-puppets of a creature whose attention was only now coming to focus on them. Even if there had been time, Einarr was not at all certain it would work against the full attention of the undersea horror.

Liupold led them down corridor after corridor, more than once making a hasty turn when something shambled into their path. By the time they reached the top of the second set of stairs, each and every one of them was out of breath.

“Where to now?” Einarr asked.

With a quick glance around, Liupold pointed, but they had hardly started down that hallway when a pack of the flesh-puppets appeared ahead of them.

Three turns later, when they were once again facing the exit, it happened again.

And again.

“I think it knows where we’re trying to go,” Naudrek offered.

“I think you’re right. Well, I guess that means we have to do this the hard way.”

Liupold nodded again and took off down the corridor to their left. Whatever the puppet master had expected, this wasn’t it. Once again, the shambling horde was reduced to chasing the much-faster living humans.

It couldn’t last forever. The puppetmaster had enough eyes to see through that it was only a matter of time until he could redirect his flesh-puppets to block the way to the armory. Liupold picked up the pace, and everyone else stayed with him.

Another flight of stairs. Rambert hurled a javelin at one of the puppets that was getting a little too close behind them. Einarr could hear more closing in from the sides.

“Up there!” Liupold pointed forward at a large, heavy door just as a pair of the flesh-puppets shambled in front of it. Only two, though. Einarr and Naudrek brought up their bows, aimed, and fired. Two puppets sprouted arrows and fell forward, inert. Moments later, Liupold led them in hurdling over the bodies.

Einarr turned his shoulder to ram the door open without stopping. Naudrek, Hrug, and the oarsmen followed suit as Liupold and the women scrambled out of the way.

Already the kraken was beginning to reassert control over the fallen peasants, but the door creaked open on its hinges under the combined force of five charging warriors.

Moments later, they had all scrambled inside. With that same drawn-out creak, they shoved the door closed behind them, and then Bea dropped the heavy wooden bar with a bang.

Einarr, the first to recover his breath, took in the room with a glance. If the door could be barred, there were probably other entrances from higher up in the citadel. “Bea, Hrug, Rambert. Go check for other ways out of here. Bar them if you can.”

The princess gave him a long, appraising look but did not object.

“Burkhart, gather up all of the arrows and javelins you can find. All of them. Liupold, Naudrek, let’s see if we can’t make this room a little more defensible. I bet we can pile up some of those racks into a nice, defensible wall we can shoot through.”

Liupold, too, gave him a long look, although his seemed oddly more annoyed than Bea’s had. Still, he didn’t seem inclined to dispute the call, so while the others were making sure they had weapons and didn’t get attacked from behind, the three of them set up a wall inside the armory, outside the sweep of the door but curving around to meet the walls of the room on either side. The closest thing to a killing field they could come up with.

The flesh puppets were trying to force the door, but it seemed they could afford a moment’s rest. Einarr flopped down on the floor and began inspecting his bow. It would very shortly be seeing heavy use.

“You’re a natural at this, aren’t you,” Liupold said, sitting next to him. It wasn’t a question.

“What, taking charge?” Einarr shrugged. “I wouldn’t say that. My grandfather was Thane over the clans of Breidelstein. Father knows he never will be, not with as long as its taken us to reclaim our throne. My whole life he’s been preparing me, first for captaincy, then for thanehood.”

Liupold nodded. “He’s taught you well, but I think he had a good student. Even the princess didn’t hesitate when you took charge.”

Einarr shrugged again. “Just because she’s not likely to ever inherit doesn’t mean she’s got soup for brains. It needed to be done, and it was better if we did the grunt-work.”

“I’ll not deny it.” Liupold exhaled a deep breath and stood again. “We should get the ammunition racks set. We’re going to have to unbar that door if we ever want to get out of here.”

Einarr heaved a breath himself, then followed suit. The sooner they could bust free of this castle, the sooner they could torch the island and turn their full attention to the kraken.


Einarr was reluctantly impressed: the bar had started to crack. They all gathered around the outside of the wall, bows in hand and plenty of javelins and arrows in easy reach. Even Eydri had a bow.

Bea stood by the pulley that would raise the bar and let the flesh-puppets surge forward. Hrug had also prepared a number of fire runes as a last defense. The idea of setting the castle on fire around their ears did not appeal, but neither did the idea of a never-ending surge of flesh-puppets. The arrows that had taken down the ones in the hall, before, had not hit anything vital. That suggested to Einarr that the kraken’s control over its puppets was tenuous. But by the same token, he didn’t think reasserting control had taken much effort, either.

“Are we ready?” Bea called.

A series of affirmations came from around their perimeter. “Do it,” Einarr answered after everyone else had called in.


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Hi everyone. Thanks for reading! 

If you like what you read, it would really mean a lot to me if you clicked through to Top Web Fiction and voted for Einarr there. It’s a visibility boost in the ever-growing genre of web fiction, and that helps me out a lot. There’s no sign-up, and votes refresh every 7 days.

If you’re all caught up and looking for something a little longer to read, I also have other works available on Amazon.Or, if you happen to not like Amazon you can also get the Einarr ebook through Draft2Digital, B&N, Apple, Kobo… you get the idea. Direct links are available here.

Lastly, if you really like what I’m doing, I also have a Patreon account running with some fun bonuses available.

8.19 – Imperial Princess

Hi, Everyone! Allene here. We’re going to try something special with book 8, assuming I don’t exhaust myself in the process. In an effort to get my rankings higher on TWF and RRL, I’m aiming to post two chapters/day for the next two weeks (so, 28 chapters in 2 weeks, or what will probably be most of the book), and then go straight into book 9 when it’s done. Wish me luck!

The woman who stepped out of the cell Liupold opened was tall, lithe, and buxom, with black hair falling to her knees in a thick braid. She wore snug trousers and a swordfighter’s tunic, tied at the sleeves and waist, and if it weren’t for the hay clinging to hair and clothes, the smears of dirt on her face, and some new-looking tears in her clothes Einarr would not have believed her to be so recently a captive. She didn’t even have dark circles under her eyes!

“My lady,” Liupold intoned with a bow. “Let me present the Cursebreaker, Einarr son of Stigander of the longship Vidofnir; Eydri, a Singer of his acquaintance and no small skill; Naudrek, his man-at-arms; and Hrug, a sorcerer trained in the use of runes. Lord Einarr, this is her Imperial Highness, the fourth Princess Beatrix Maria Gundahar.”

Einarr had never met an Imperial princess before, although he had met a landed Thane or two in his time on the Vidofnir. He bowed, much as he would have for one of their offspring. Eydri curtsied. Naudrek bowed deeply enough to hide the blush Einarr glimpsed on his cheek, even as Hrug took a knee.

The princess gave a dismissive upward motion, which Einarr chose to interpret as haste to be out of here – a sentiment which he shared. “We can worry about formal introductions later. First we need to… was one of your men a Painter?”

The princess had noticed the charred corpse of her jailer, and she stared at it as though trying to divine who he had been before.

“No, my lady. I have received something of an education, today: runes are good for more than fortune-telling.”

“But useless in combat,” Einarr cut him off. The last thing he needed was the Empire trying to figure out a way to use rune magic in battle. It could be done, of course, given sufficient rune sorcerers with sufficient runestones, but that was not a discussion he intended to have with any Conehead, let alone one of their royals. “We should go, before that kraken can get reinforcements down her to replace its pet dog.”

She nodded. “Quite right. Have you found my things?”

Liupold shook his head. “Haven’t yet looked.”

“Well then, let’s get to it! Father will be quite cross if he has to fit me for armor again, and the spear is an heirloom.”


It took far longer than anyone among their party liked to find the princess’ – Bea’s, she finally directed them to call her – breastplate and spear. By the time Bea had asked (instructed) Eydri to help her put it on, they could all hear the sounds of the kraken’s flesh-puppets shambling above. It was only a matter of time before they found their way down.

“What can the runes do?” Liupold asked. “Can they get us out? Or even just destroy the flesh-puppets, like your little lightning setup did for the jailer?”

Einarr and Hrug shared a look. Einarr envied the other man a little for not having to explain this. “Rune magic is fundamentally an act of will. The greater the change, the larger the expenditure of will. We could probably catch several of them on fire – but not enough. And there’s no way we have enough arrows and javelins to fend them all off down here.”

“No, I suppose we don’t.”

“Is there a place we could get more? Bows, arrows, javelins, I mean.”

“Yes, there will be an armory. I think I even know where.”

“Good. Then what Hrug and I can probably do is lay runes to keep them away from the staircase long enough for us to get past them. Then all we have to do is evade the flesh-puppets long enough to reach the armory – or the exit, either one. Now that we’ve got the Princess out, there’s no reason not to burn the island, right?”

Bea answered for him when he hesitated. “None.”

“Wonderful. In that case, I have a slight preference for racing back across the island for the ship, but I will leave that to your discretion. In the meantime, Hrug, we have some runes to lay.”

While it did require some syntax, this was one of the easiest and earliest ‘spells’ Elder Melja had taught them. In the village, they used it to keep pests away from their crops. The Elder had always been cagey about whether or not it was also used to keep humans away from the village. Whether or not that was the case, it should be more than sufficient to keep the kraken’s victims from descending on their heads. While they worked, Naudrek and the oarsmen took up positions to either side of the stair, weapons ready.

After what felt like another eternity, Eydri finished buckling on Bea’s breastplate and had it adjusted to her satisfaction. Bea grabbed up her fancy metal-plated spear.

“Are we ready? I feel like the puppeteer has started to notice something amiss.”

Bea, much to Einarr’s surprise, was self-aware enough to apologize for the delay. “Let’s go,” she added, gesturing for Liupold to lead the way.

Up the stairs they raced. Those who had bows had them limbered and arrows nocked as a precaution. Those who did not prayed for room to throw a javelin should the need arise.

The flesh-puppets milled about on the floor above – none of them in the straight line leading up away from the stairs, and most of them not seeming to even realize there was a gap there. Liupold dashed down the hallway and across that intersection like a shot, the rest of the group hard on his heels.

The group of intruders had made it past three more intersections and around a bend before the kraken realized what was going on. Then there was a dull groaning from its puppets as they shambled off after their prey, as rapidly as their rotting legs could carry them.


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Hi everyone. Thanks for reading! 

If you like what you read, it would really mean a lot to me if you clicked through to Top Web Fiction and voted for Einarr there. It’s a visibility boost in the ever-growing genre of web fiction, and that helps me out a lot. There’s no sign-up, and votes refresh every 7 days.

If you’re all caught up and looking for something a little longer to read, I also have other works available on Amazon.Or, if you happen to not like Amazon you can also get the Einarr ebook through Draft2Digital, B&N, Apple, Kobo… you get the idea. Direct links are available here.

Lastly, if you really like what I’m doing, I also have a Patreon account running with some fun bonuses available.

8.17 – Southwaite

Hi, Everyone! Allene here. We’re going to try something special with book 8, assuming I don’t exhaust myself in the process. In an effort to get my rankings higher on TWF and RRL, I’m aiming to post two chapters/day for the next two weeks (so, 28 chapters in 2 weeks, or what will probably be most of the book), and then go straight into book 9 when it’s done. Wish me luck!

As was probably to be expected of an island of this size with the number of people it must have had, most of the interior was taken up by farmland – although Einarr would have hesitated to tend any crops there now. It was bad enough hurrying across the abandoned fields, eyes open for anything – man or beast – that might be hostile.

There were, however, significant benefits to traipsing over farmland, namely in open and easy terrain. Even skulking, trying to avoid combat with anything still alive here, it only took them a few hours to cross the handful of miles between Kettleness and Southwaite. Thankfully, they encountered no more of the strangely shimmering curtains. Forced to the choice, he would risk Sinmora against one again rather than sending any of their number through… but the idea of Sinmora becoming tainted disturbed him nearly as much.

Their first sign that they were approaching Southwaite was the rise of walls – far more impressive than the wooden palisade that had served Kettleness, but not, to Einarr’s way of thinking, anything that would slow a ship of Clan raiders more than an hour or two. They drew nearer, and then Einarr caught sight of the fortress within the walls, a great rectangular brick of stone, quarried who knew where, that squatted over the village like some giant toad.

“As expected,” Einarr muttered.

“I beg your pardon?” Liupold’s eyes, too, were on the castle town ahead.

“If this is the seat of whatever petty jarl rules this island, as it appears to be, then they will want the defenses and capacity of that citadel for their own purposes. The captives should be in the citadel prison. At least, that’s where I found Runa.”

Liupold hummed and they continued forward.

Einarr still saw no sign of whatever that strange curtain of energy had been outside Kettleness. Why would they not use it as a defense around their base of operations?

Why had they not seen any in the svartalfr fortress?

He shook his head: they had not. He was not going to assume their absence here, but it made no sense not to worry over their absence, either. “Be cautious,” he whispered as they drew into view of the unguarded gate. “I expect the corrupted will have gathered their forces here, so as to better defend themselves.”

“That’s almost certainly the case,” Liupold agreed. “Follow me. Assuming the old Lord stuck to convention, I know right where the prisoners will be held.”


Sneaking their way through the castle town of Southwaite was almost anticlimactic compared to the circle fortress of the svartalfr city. Not that there weren’t corrupted villagers everywhere – there were – but the villagers seemed less at ease in their corruption than the cultists in the circle fort had been. Did it perhaps take some time for the corruption to take full control of the mind, even after the body succumbed? He did not know, but the only way he could think of to find out would ensure their enemies knew they were there.

True to his word, Liupold led them down the narrowest of village ways to a small servant’s entrance in the side of the castle near the wall. Up until that point, it was easy.

Inside, the fortress was filled with labyrinthine narrow passages, any one of which could hold one of the shambling, half-asleep villagers who grasped pitchforks and javelins alike like walking sticks. More than once Liupold had to duck back behind a corner he had just rounded, or dash across an intersection, to avoid the notice of the strangely lethargic villagers.

They had nearly reached the cells in the bottom of the keep when Einarr noticed something he wished he had not.

One of the villagers in the cross-hall, who he could see without being seen – he thought. The figure turned around, and Einarr saw what appeared to be a mass of dried blood on her neck. A large mass of dried blood. A strong wind gusted down the hallway and the head tilted back at an unnatural angle.

She was already dead.

Einarr’s breath caught in his throat. This wasn’t a regrowth of the cult, like he’d thought, at all. The kraken itself had brought the people around to its rule, and those it could not bend it broke and made into puppets.

When next they had a quiet place, hidden from the view of any of the creature’s flesh-puppets, Einarr warned the others. “Are you sure these captives are still alive?”

“The very existence of the Order of the Valkyrie depends upon it. I only wish I were exaggerating.”

Einarr nodded. “Just so long as you understand, I do not believe there is anyone else alive to save here. We get the captives, and we run before the kraken can figure out where we are.”

“Don’t we need to destroy the kraken, too?” Naudrek asked.

“Yes, but… on our terms. Not its, and definitely not on ground chosen by its flesh-puppets. Are we almost there?”

“Nearly. As soon as I find the next stairwell, we only have two more flights to descend.”

“Assuming the prison is where you think it should be, of course.”

“Of course.”

He shook his head, a little exasperated. “Well, lead on. Hrug, you’re getting all this, right?”

The mute nodded his head and made a gesture Einarr recognized as later.

“All right, then. Down we go, I guess.”

If this was a typical Imperial fortress, Einarr was just as glad they weren’t trying to storm it. The stairs alone would have been murder holes, not to mention the twisty corridors that seemed to make up the bulk of each floor. Still, with a castle defended entirely by the kraken’s puppets, reaching the prison cells in the basement was not so difficult as the designers intended. Ahead of them stood a single straight hallway, bounded on either side by solid wooden doors. The one responsible for guarding the cells, however, stood very alert in the center of the guard room.


Vote for Vikings on Top Web Fiction!

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Hi everyone. Thanks for reading! 

If you like what you read, it would really mean a lot to me if you clicked through to Top Web Fiction and voted for Einarr there. It’s a visibility boost in the ever-growing genre of web fiction, and that helps me out a lot. There’s no sign-up, and votes refresh every 7 days.

If you’re all caught up and looking for something a little longer to read, I also have other works available on Amazon.Or, if you happen to not like Amazon you can also get the Einarr ebook through Draft2Digital, B&N, Apple, Kobo… you get the idea. Direct links are available here.

Lastly, if you really like what I’m doing, I also have a Patreon account running with some fun bonuses available.