“Sire, may I clear the path? Commanding doesn’t give me enough time for combat,” requested Kobu. Habrok’s arrows were already flying past and exploding undead heads.
“By all means, Kobu. But you sound like Tyndur.”
Kobu laughed as his weapon shifted into the kanabo.
“The einherjar’s attitude is catching,” the exile replied.
Tyler watched as the man strode forward, the brutal weapon on his shoulder. Kobu momentarily halted as his eyes took in the sight of revenants rushing them, weapons already at the ready. The outline of his form flickered, then he disappeared. The exile suddenly appeared among the skeletal warriors, a downward blow smashing a helmeted cranium. The succeeding movement, a roundhouse swing of the kanabo held by the ring on the other end, caught several more by their heads. Then he vanished again.
The mage couldn’t believe how fast the exile cleared the way. He had seen how the man dealt with the assassins. But this was against numerous opponents. Even with his enhanced vision, the mage could barely keep up with the movements of Kobu. It must have appeared instantaneous to others watching the incredible display. In a few seconds, the way was clear. Tyler quickly walked to the rearguard section facing them, warriors who suddenly found themselves with nobody to fight. Kobu and Habrok guarded his flanks. As he strode forward, waves of slicing projectiles cut down undead on either side.
“Sire.” A voice called out to him in his mind. It was Birki.
“Yes, Birki?” replied Tyler though he continued walking.
“The undead are starting to climb out of the ditches. There are too many, and I can’t create really deep excavations. My present ability limits me to ten feet deep if done at a quick pace.”
The nightmarish scene of undead slowly climbing out of the ground abruptly impressed itself on Tyler’s imagination.
Shit. I know I’ve watched too many horror flicks.
“Slow them down. We need time to withdraw. The host will be at its most vulnerable at the moment of disengaging,” he instructed Birki.
“I’ll get Apulli to help. He can practice building earthen walls of various heights. Unless he wants to do more culling,” came the reply.
The faces greeting him were haggard, weary beyond words, reflecting the rigors of continued fighting. They had been pushed to the limits of their endurance, even for dwarves. The shock and awe of Kobu’s exhibition could also have contributed to the dazed and incredulous expressions. Or the defenders have given themselves up for dead already.
“Move! But maintain your defensive circle. I’ll hold them here until everybody is safe,” shouted Tyler.
There was hesitation by the warriors in front of him. Then he remembered the energy walls laid down between the two groups. It stopped the revenants, but still showed them in their full undead glory. Tyler glanced back.
Shit. Those horrible faces would even give me second thoughts. Not to mention the freaking exotic smell.
***
Tyler stomped his way back to their room in the jarl’s keep, followed by his companions. From the North Gate up to the hallway, all the mage was doing was frantically dusting himself off with one hand, the other one busy gripping the staff. Whitish dust, tiny particles of dried flesh, and maggots, both live and dead ones, marked his progress.
It had been a relatively easy retreat after the hesitant rescued warriors were finally convinced—no, ordered—by a loud shout from one chieftain in the vanguard. The mage thought it was Otr; the phrasing of the words, the non-dwarf part, was positively similar to how the dwarf displayed his linguistic skills in human languages.
After that, the remaining warriors quickly filed out of the ring and headed for the wedge. Tyler had to admit it was a well-executed maneuver for exhausted and desperate warriors, most of whom were carrying wounded comrades. The mage, seeing the kinds of wounds the majority of the fighters suffered, strongly prayed that the healing magic of Adar covered tetanus and maladies associated with bite marks from the teeth of long-deceased persons and creatures. Weapon-inflicted wounds were in the minority but all the injuries were beyond his meager healing skills.
The ring compressed, becoming smaller and smaller as the ends coursed, like two threads through the eye of a needle, through the transparent channel. The mage and his two companions were the last to return to the formation, though it took two devastating volleys of his guide’s controlled blasts to eliminate those running after the fleeing men and dwarves. As Skarde gave the order to withdraw, the packed triangle moved back, harried by the undead. But there was a substantial decrease in the number of attackers, and the assaults were quickly dealt with by the defenders.
Curious about the reduction of the enemy’s ranks, Tyler lit the sky above the field they had left. No other illumination spells were being cast by the other mages so Tyler guessed they must have reached the boundary set by magical exhaustion. He couldn’t blame them for reaching their limit so soon. The effects of the exposure to a massive concentration of the strange energy–a sudden bout of the nastiest migraine, extreme dizziness, and possible punishing body pain–were sure to take their toll. The mages were swaying like inebriated old men the last time Tyler saw them.
As the light flooded the field, a bizarre moonscape greeted his eyes. The land in front of him was crisscrossed by numerous irregular lines of trenches, a lot of pits, and extended mounds of varying heights. He could see undead clambering up the excavations, but as soon as they reached the top, another deep gouge in the earth appeared in front of them. The small hills were crawling with undead from the primary host on the other side, all trying to advance toward the retreating defenders. But like the trenches, new earthen obstructions kept on rising from the ground, blocking their way.
Must be damned frustrating, thought Tyler.
Unfortunately, the light also illuminated the mage. Being at the literal tip of the armored formation, he
