Soldiers began retreating. Not because they were losing. But they were giving way for… gunfire.
Bolts of energy flashed past the large hall. They were not the most accurate shots, and the Goblins were quick. They evaded most of the bullets. Or, most of them did.
Karna blocked two shots, dodging a third. He ducked behind a pillar, as the suppressing fire forced the Goblins back. He watched a Goblin dodging as many bullets as he could. But there were too many.
One struck the Goblin in the leg, and he fell. And that was it for him. The gunfire struck him down as he dropped. Dead.
Karna’s eyes flickered. He saw the large soldier… a Lieutenant? He did not know military ranks all that well. But he was a leader. Just like me, Karna thought.
He raised his shortsword. It was a regular weapon— he had given his personal dagger to Melas. This one was unenchanted. But it did not matter. Not with what he was going to do with it.
He aimed his sword at the enemy leader, and shouted to his men.
"Kill him."
***
I stood, waiting. There was nothing for me to do; or at least, nothing for me to do right now. I was just standing with Gerritt. No one else was with us.
Well, there were a lot of undead.
Dozens of animals and some monsters surrounded us. They were the rotting corpses of whatever creature Gerritt could find and raise to use for this siege. Other than that, we were alone.
They smelled terrible, as usual. Although the smell got kind of bearable after a while— in the sense that I was no longer choking with each breath. But maybe I was just nervous. Perhaps that was why the stench of death did not bother me as much as it should. Because there was something far more important in my mind. And that was fighting.
I was going to help Gerritt take the gates on the northeastern side of the wall. Victor was assaulting the southwestern entrance with most of the Goblins, while Karna went in with a small group to strike the vulnerable and still ill-equipped soldiers. Ihsan was supposed to open the gates for us while that happened so we could send the undead in.
Other than that, Gerritt and I were not supposed to do much. Our job was to simply split up the forces— a false attack in a way. Not that there was no threat from these undead; they could very well kill dozens of armed guards. But by coming last, the soldiers would panic, thinking we were the main threat. And they would be even more disorganized that way.
An attack from three directions. The front, the inside, and the back. The question was: who would they focus on defending from the most?
Naturally it would be the front; but once we hit them from behind, they would think the frontal assault was nothing more than a diversion. Try and protect their flank, thus exposing their main line of defense.
It was a simple strategy. But it should work nonetheless.
And my job was just as simple— just send some spells flying now and then. To bring attention to us, while Gerritt protects me.
Yet I was still shaking. It was not all fear; I was pretty sure I was going to come out just fine. It was senseless trepidation. The one that came from knowing you were doing something important— that was how I felt.
It had probably been less than half an hour since I heard the first blast from the Fireball spell. But to me, it felt like I had been waiting for days. Finally, I saw the gates move.
The massive double doors slowly swung open. A few figures waited for us at the walls. I turned to Gerritt. He was dressed in full plate mail, complete with a helmet and all. He nodded, as he closed the visor.
"It’s time, Melas. Stay close to me and you’ll be safe."
I made a sound in agreement. Then the first group of undead sprinted down the road. They charged into the fortress. Through the open gates. And straight into battle.
I could hear the tide of the battle immediately shift; the soldiers were shocked by the sudden new enemies. A second wave of undead went forward. Then a third.
I walked alongside Gerritt and a few undead towards the fort. We entered it, and I saw Ihsan waiting there for us. A few guards lay dead at his feet.
"Sorry for the wait," he said, gesturing at the bodies lying on the ground. "More soldiers than we thought there would be. Had to take care of them."
"Hrmph, perhaps they received more troops since we scouted them. No matter. This only helps us more."
Gerritt raised a hand, and a small magic circle flashed in the air. Then, larger versions of the same magic circle appeared around the dead bodies. I thought I could see tiny invisible strings weaving into them. And after half a minute of casting the spell, the dead finally became undead.
The lifeless guards picked themselves up, body still half limp as they moved. A dim green glow was emitted from their eyes, as they picked up weapons and awaited orders. I did not think a verbal or physical cue was wholly necessary, but the Orc pointed at the battle regardless.
"Go," he ordered. "Slay my enemies or force them to surrender. Do not let them escape."
The undead obeyed. They charged into the battlefield, swinging their weapons lamely and possibly ineffectively. They did not sprint. These were zombies— weak ones at that. If the Necromancer wanted to make them stronger, it would have taken more time; but that was not needed. These were meant to be fodder.
And I guess I am too.
I took a deep breath. I briefly glanced at Gerritt, who seemed busy controlling
