“Did she tell you who was responsible?”
“A group of the same prehistoric race, though, as I mentioned, of a different church. A very powerful one. Worshippers of Cthulhu, she said. There are other cults, but she’s positive about this assumption.”
Another damned group of lost ones? Could they be the squids? Other cults?
“Why doesn’t she come herself?” asked the mage.
“Traveling is not an option for the dying. She’s also trying to husband all the energy she could spare for you, if you accept the proposal.”
“And where exactly is she now?”
“On Banna, the Forbidden Isle.”
Shit. Figures. Nothing’s ever easy.
***
Early afternoon found Tyler back at the platform atop the North Gate. The jarl had asked for his presence. Scouts had reported movement closer to Hedmark. Kobu, on his right side, was busy conferring with Skarde.
“Any specific details, Jarl Geir?” Tyler asked.
“Unfortunately, none. What we got was sent by a signal from the forward scouts, but the message was cut off. The scouts on the left side of the approach, the ones closest to the enemy, also have not reported. I am assuming the worst and have given the order for our remaining lookouts to withdraw from the vicinity of the enemy. They are to find heights where they could observe with safety.”
Tyler merely nodded. Matters of grand warfare again. He appreciated the briefing but didn’t really understand the principles behind the strategies. The mage walked forward and gazed at the fields beyond. A sliver of darkness could be seen on the far horizon, but that was all. Details could not be discerned; it was too far even for his enhanced eyesight. A scrying spell appeared to be a waste of magical energy. He knew the numbers of the enemy were beyond counting, and sending the spell would probably just frighten his balls off.
Lumeri had left a few hours before, leaving to him the decision of whether to accept the proposal of the dying Follower of Zin. The Scribe left with the mage a description of the general location of the remaining Follower, saying that Tyler’s presence would be known to her once he arrived near the specified location. Then Hal helpfully reminded him about G’s information that an Elder temple was on the island nearly the size of a continent. When he asked about the depiction of the location of the dying rogue Elder, X replied that it was meaningless. It could fit a lot of areas on the Banna. Tracking the Elder energy would be a more fruitful endeavor.
The mage put off the decision and concentrated on the original plan of his guides – the unraveling of the animating spell. There was no sense in dealing with the request as of the moment; they lose the coming battle and the question of deciding the proposal would be a moot one. The bad news was he had to wait until the main horde of the enemy was committed to the assault before Tyler could attempt anything. It was only then that the energy concentration would be dense enough to attempt anything. X told him the presence of the Elder strand would ensure that the use of the bizarre energy resulting from the experiment would guarantee an adverse effect on the undead. As to what that effect would be and the extent of the damage it could do, his guides had no idea.
“If I know my brother, he’ll send probing attacks ahead of his army,” said the jarl.
Tyler glanced back.
“You do know he’s really not your brother anymore?” the mage asked.
“I know. But this undead version will be out for blood. Our pigs and chickens included,” laughed the jarl. “But I do remember his preference for night attacks. I guess it will be a long night for all of us.”
“Any report on any undead coming from the cemetery on the East Road?”
“None actually. Any sighting involved undead coming from the woods and the mountains. Not many.”
“I suspect the dead affected by the spell are those who died violently, either in battle or by accident. Those who died of disease and old age are not affected,” ventured Tyler.
“Then we can pull out men from the East Gate and transfer them here. With the dwarves’ help, we have blocked the Western and Southern Gates. The East Gate remains our exit point,” replied the jarl.
“Why not the South Gate?” the mage asked.
“Stenhus is too far. Barholm is nearer, even though it’s in the region of Voss. I have made arrangements with Jarl Leif. He’s a good friend. He even posted a substantial number of men midway between here and Barholm to serve as a blocking force in the event we are forced to withdraw.”
Tyler tried hard to remember what he could from Jorund’s map.
“Wouldn’t that be dangerous? We’ll be exposed to the enemy on that side, just as the withdrawal starts,” he observed.
“With all due respect to the jarl, we have made arrangements to protect that side, sire,” said Kobu. “Additional trenches and pits have been dug. More barricades have been set in place. Though more would be welcome.”
The mage smiled at the implied request of Kobu. “Done.”
“You heard?” he asked Birki.
“On it,” came the reply.
“Oh—and add more to our front. We’ll be fighting tonight,” added Tyler.
“I see. I’ll be talking to my rambunctious wards when I get back. Too much energy. They need to let off some steam. In controlled and safe circumstances, as always,” said Birki.
“I don’t have any intention of involving them in the coming siege, Birki. It’s too dangerous,” replied the mage. The being didn’t reply and disappeared from his consciousness.
“Thank you, sire,” said Kobu, to the accompaniment of loud exclamations from the eastern side of the fortress. Tyler’s wards had begun their work.
“I’ll reassure the men, jarl. Then I’ll proceed to the East Gate,” said Skarde as he set off on a run.
Suddenly, Tyler’s
