When thy meat thou mightest not get,
(And faint from hunger didst feel.)”
Thor spake:
63. “Unmanly one, cease, | or the mighty hammer,
Mjollnir, shall close thy mouth;
The slayer of Hrungnir | shall send thee to hell,
And down to the gate of death.”
The mage released several barrages of small sharp blades, cutting down numerous undead, but it barely made a dent in the seemingly inexhaustible wave.
Loud battle screams greeted the attackers as they reached the walls. The mage could see most of the first wave were festooned with arrows. They had numerous crude ladders with them. Now that’s surprising, he observed. I thought they’d concentrate on forcing the gates.
It appears arrows don’t do shit. But stones do, he continued to note as the defenders started throwing large rocks down at the climbing revenants. The archers on the walls had observed the ineffectiveness of their arrows and instead had taken their places near the piles of stones arrayed near the battlements. He glanced at Kobu. The man’s right hand was raised and looking down the length of the walls, protected by Tyler’s energy shield. Then he swiftly lowered his hand.
Immediately, the numerous Wolf’s Teeth lined up along the battlements dropped as one, their weight and large sharp blades crushing the improvised ladders and skewering the undead caught under them, piercing bodies and skulls. The slamming sound of the deadly squares as they hit the ground was deafening, overcoming for an instant the din and cacophony of battle. The crew of the lethally effective defense apparatuses frantically winched them back. Spears and pikes removed wriggling ghouls caught in the iron teeth. It was a ghastly sight, and the mage didn’t doubt those being removed with uncrushed craniums would again try to climb back up. Tyler looked down and saw mounds of unmoving revenants already forming under the walls. The undead siege ramps had their grisly foundations.
And this is but the advance party, he thought. I hope Thor doesn’t attract the attention of Bjarte. Otherwise, this plan is screwed. The undead blight would continue all across the northern realms. There’s no telling if its creator would be encouraged to revive more and more of the dead.
His eyes could discern some far-away flashes.
Well, I guess Thor has buckled down to work, the mage thought as he studied the incoming tide of enemies. Where the fuck is that Bjarte?
Tyler noticed the undead attackers were concentrating their attack on three portions of the wall, all well away from the North Gate. Using large trunks of wood, attempts were also made to break through the barred iron doors, but they all failed. The front of the three main towers was already littered with roughly-shaped battering rams and twice-dead bodies. But it was clear to the mage that the assault on the gate was a diversion. His sight could see that most of the enemy were grouped around the wall portions they intend to overwhelm, though assaults on all sections of the wall were cleverly conducted to hide that plan. The night hid the layout of the enemy’s formations well.
“Kobu,” he called out. “The assault is really directed against three sections.” The mage pointed them out.
“Thank you, sire. But I could see the pressure beginning to tell on the men.”
Tyler nodded. Darkness now worked against them, even as illumination spells were now flooding the ground beyond the walls in a haphazard fashion. If not for his warning, the warriors would have defended every section of the wall, stretching the defensive line. As he watched, several of the carts with knives were being wheeled into position near the sections to be contested.
A final reserve if the line breaks, observed Tyler. I hope it doesn’t reach that point. Where the hell is that Bjarte? He gazed at the surging undead tide continuing to come in, wondering where the leader was.
The mage was already considering asking Otr to try it. He focused on the still lit mangonel gauntlet area and released a series of cloud spells. Tyler avoided casting spells near the walls; the fighting was already hand-to-hand, and the mage wanted to avoid friendly casualties. They were already vastly outnumbered as it was. Suddenly, Habrok’s arrows flew by in quick succession, together with Tyndur’s thrown maul. From the corner of an eye, he saw the einherjar quickly pull out his flaming battleaxe and jump toward him. Kobu vanished, his weapon shifting to its kanabo form. Everything happened in an instant, yet it was a slow-moving eternity for the mage.
As he moved his head to glimpse at what they were attacking, Tyler belatedly noticed a huge shadow had fallen on him, given form by the magical illumination in the distance and the skies around the fortress. A giant skeleton, covered with bony plates in places, loomed in the darkness, its long, elongated shape culminating in a now agape cluster of serrated fangs serving as its head. On top of the abominable horned excuse for a head was a standing figure, holding a massive ancient sword and a large tattered banner.
Deadlord
“WILAN!” the undead warrior thundered, his unnatural voice loudly echoing throughout the immediate area and cutting through the sound of battle.
Tyler felt hands clutched around his waist, and his surroundings disappeared, replaced by a gray atmosphere. Just as suddenly, reality came flooding back in and he found himself beside the startled jarl. The mage realized it was Kobu who rescued him. The exile again vanished.
The mage turned to the jarl.
“Go! This is a battle of magic and magical weapons!”
“How about you? I can’t just run away from that corrupted thing!” exclaimed the jarl. The mage could see his companions trying to fight the monster and its handler. Tyler knew it was Bjarte, though he couldn’t explain how the undead warlord approached without being seen.
“Go, jarl! Even I can’t guarantee a victory against that abomination!” Tyler meant what he said. His mage eyes could see a green nimbus of power surrounded Bjarte. Kobu had materialized on top of the monstrous steed
