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Before Emiel could pull the door aside, a sudden thought occurred to Ragnar and in a flash his arm shot out. He held the door firmly shut, then asked, "How did the guards keep watch upon this hall?" He nodded toward the way ahead.
Emiel, an angry word dying on his lips, froze and then cursed himself for being a reckless fool. "The spy holes!" he exclaimed in a forceful, whispered voice. "Of course, there are spy holes within the walls, and in this very door as well. I can't believe it slipped my mind."
"Where?" Ragnar felt the smooth face of the secret door but could not find a groove or latch, or sign of any panel.
"Here." said Emiel reaching out and at his finger's touch a small round hole appeared.
"Magic!" Ragnar said his voice filled with curiosity.
"Of a sort, no doubt. This place is some magician's cave, left derelict but not dead." Emiel leaned and looked out the hole. "Nothing." he said with a disappointed tone. "Noth...wait, shhh!" he hissed.
"Something passed down the hall!"
"Ted?" Ragnar sounded hopeful.
"I couldn't tell, just some glimpse of movement, either Thaddeus or those walking dead."
Or both, the thought passed through Ragnar's head but he had sense enough to let it stay there.
* * *
"Is this the only door?" Ragnar asked.
"It's this or crawl back down that tunnel and come in the front." Emiel answered.
Ragnar peered through the small hole himself and tried to make out what was in the corridor beyond. "It's pitch black out there. I can't see a thing." he said. "You saw something move?"
"Yes." Emiel said, annoyed. "Now keep quiet." He slowly opened the hidden door. It drew back without a sound.
The space ahead was a dark, featureless square. Ragnar raised the lantern, and as the light shown out, first low, across the floor, then sweeping higher, Emiel knocked it back. "Stop that!" Emiel hissed.
"And do what! Walk out there blind. I might as well have my eyes closed." Ragnar swung the light back up and out into the dark.
About to snap out an angry reply, Emiel jumped back instead. As the beam of light ran across the floor and lit the hall, it first revealed a pair of sturdy boots. They went unseen and the lantern light went higher. Ragged pants, torn and darkly stained, a wide leather belt, an empty scabbard, a chain shirt, then a great gaping wound where flesh had been. No throat, just bone and muscles showing clear, grey crusted skin and eyes that showed yellow-orange but did not blink.
"Waa!" Emiel cried out surprised. The corpse threw itself forward and ran upon the sword in Emiel's hand. The edge parted steel rings with a grating sound, the point sunk in deep, then further still as hand over hand the creature pulled itself forward upon the goldmetal blade.
Emiel sought to free his sword but for a brief moment his blade was trapped. A rotted hand reached out, a clawing fist which passed close by his eyes. He flinched, and, throwing back his shoulder, tore loose his blade. With it came a gray flesh half-hand severed clean. It fell in pieces to the floor, each twitched and jumped like small fish pulled from a running stream.
A sparking screech rang out above their heads as Ragnar's axe came arcing down. The top spike etched a short, thin line across the ceiling stone, then the axe blade struck and was buried deep within the corpse's chest.
The steel rings of the monster's chain shirt snapped beneath the axe's edge and the rusted mail slid from the corpse's chest along with a grey and withered arm. The rotting hand dragged the limb from beneath the metal pile and grabbed hold of Ragnar's leg.
"Bah!" Ragnar shouted in disgust. He lashed out with a mule-like kick and yanked his axe-blade free from where it had lodged between a shoulder and a spine. The body flailed its one good arm but could not keep its balance. It fell back and down, smacking hard against the ground, but the severed hand clasped around Ragnar's ankle would not shake free.
Ragnar jumped out ahead, nearly tripping over the hand's still connected upper arm. The lantern bounced in Ragnar's lefthand, but his axe was firmly clasped in his right. With his foot planted firm upon the corpse's chest he chopped once, removed an arm, then took the skull, and then stepped back.
"Frozen hell! These beasts don't die." he cursed. The butchered body kicked with its legs. It rolled from side to side, then bunched itself and struggled up to its feet.
"They've died once already. We aren't killing them, can't." Emiel said and walked up to the rising corpse, then, without haste, placed his hands upon its side and shoved. He sent it sprawling like a drunk across the floor. "Come. Do not waste your strength on this. It can do us no harm"
They stood between two alcoves, each leading to a secret door. The one blocked shut, and the other, the way to the map room and the scores of walking dead beyond.
* * *
(To Be Continued)