by Ben Stovall
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Lytha held her breath as she fired the bolt from her crossbow. It soared into the golem’s shoulder but did nothing more than ricochet off the bulky bones. She loaded another and fired again. Lytha didn’t care that she received the same result. She kept shooting. She’d restocked her quiver and would be damned if she didn’t fire every bolt into the necromancers’ monstrosities. A pair of rangers stood by her on either side. The arrows they fired seemed to have as little effect as her own projectiles, but the bowmen fired on regardless.
Just then, a golem was incinerated by the flash of a great fireball from just south of her position. The force of the explosion had been enough to send bones flying across the battlefield, and some had even been reduced to ash. Lytha was grateful that something could take these giants down.
The door of the tower she stood by flung open, and a man in the red robes of the Souhal academy spilled onto the battlements and took up position with her and her fellow rangers. He began to channel the mystical arcane energy and used it in its pure form to batter back the skeletal golems. Lytha found herself arching an eyebrow at his appearance.
“We’re here!” a woman’s voice called. “Take up positions! Help the defenders on the ground!”
Lytha whirled on the voice and nearly dropped her crossbow at the sight. Joravyn and Ellaria threw their arms around her and she squeezed them tightly in return. “I thought you’d stick with Ulthan?” she asked.
“We didn’t expect there to be any more trouble,” Joravyn admitted. “We just wanted to rest.” He shook his head. “No time now, though.”
Lytha nodded with a thoughtful frown. “A few minutes ago, there wasn’t a single skeleton left. We’d all thought it was over, ha.” The three shared a chuckle, before turning their attention to the battle. They raised their weapons.
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Ulthan’s blade sang as it deflected the blow. The hulking man swung again and Ulthan’s shield barely blocked the hit. The nord jabbed at the enemy with his trilite sword. It clamored against the armor, but didn’t pierce, and their assailant backhanded the northman with a gauntleted fist. Blood flew from his mouth as he was cast to the ground. The Exalted soldier raised his onyx blade and—
Clank! Ulthan had ripped his shield off and slammed the rim of it down on the man’s helmet. He bellowed inhumanly and tore the vibrating shell from his head. Ulthan heard himself gasp at the sight. A snarl covered the face of his attacker, one that proudly displayed a tusked jaw and furious brown eyes. Skin of a gray-green shade not unlike that of an artichoke covered him. Wrinkles and scars marred his face. He was an orc.
The orc’s fist smashed into Ulthan and sent him staggering backward. Finding his sword, the orc took two large strides to close the distance between himself and the auzixian. Unable to buckle his shield in time, Ulthan discarded it and raised his shortsword in both hands as the massive onyx blade whistled toward him. The force of the blow forced the sword from his hands, and the orc’s massive weapon cut through his armor, leaving a bloody mark down his chest. The auzixian roared out in pain as he fell to the ground. The northman leaped on the orc’s backside, but the huge beast managed to turn enough that the warrior’s trilite blade only slammed into his shoulder. It cut through, scoring the first wound between them on the orc. The northman tore his blade out and swung again. But the orc was ready. He thrust his sword into the northman’s abdomen. Ulthan’s ally’s eyes grew wide as blood escaped his mouth. Then, with a heavy tug and loud groan, the orc pulled his blade upward and left the man in two.
Ulthan grimaced and pushed himself off the ground. He pulled his bastard sword from its sheath and met the orc’s blade. The steel sang as they clashed and clashed, neither of them breaking the other’s defense.
The auzixian swung left. The orc parried. The beast swung. Ulthan parried. He shoved his blade forward, jabbing at the plated abdomen of his enemy. The orc’s blade sent the blow off the mark. Ulthan forced the orc backward with a wide rightward arc, then took two steps to meet him. The hulking man was ready for Ulthan’s advance and swung his blade downward on the auzixian. Sparks flew from his gauntlet as he flicked the blade away with his wrist. Pain shot through him from the blow, but he swung right. The orc didn’t have time to readjust, and the sword tore into his chest. Ulthan felt the blade bite the orc’s spine, then pulled his sword free. The beast of a man fell on his knees, and the auzixian brought his sword down on his gray-green face.
His corpse fell over, skull split in two. Ulthan collapsed.
✽ ✽ ✽
“Ulthan!” Tyrdun shouted. His hammer slammed into his assailant’s leg. The attacker fell over, and the dwarf brought his massive mace down on the man’s back, receiving a loud echoing crack for his effort. The rest of the soldiers, the damnable few there were, managed to work together to bring down the last two of the plated bodyguards. Tyrdun knelt at Ulthan’s side.
“I’m okay,” the auzixian groaned. “It’s just … a scratch.”
Tyrdun eyed the wound over. “It isn’t deep. Can you stand?”
“I’ll … try.” Ulthan, with the aid of the dwarf, managed to rise, using his blade for support. He looked the necromancers in the eye, scowling. “Is that—” two hacking coughs tore free from his chest “—all you’ve got?”
The Exalted smiled. They unlaced bags from their belts and opened them, reaching in and fiddling with the contents. “No,” the sorceress answered, “it isn’t.” They threw bones from the bags, which left a trail of purple mist as they flew around them. The onyx shapes whirled and attached themselves to their bodies, covering them with armored plates of bone.
Tyrdun swore under his breath.
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Lightning flashed and sent bones scattering over the battlefield. Three, Inaru counted, and found himself cursing that he’d slain so few. He rushed toward the closest bone golem, finding himself standing beside General Ranuiin. Inaru noticed the elf’s gracefulness in combat. How lithely he moved and how he seemed to dance with his sword and shield in hand. He moved with the dexterity of Torvaas but wore armor no lighter than Tyrdun or Ulthan’s. Inaru had to admit a bit of envy at the display.
But when Storm slammed into his foe again, even though it did not call its lightning this time, he lost the feeling. In tandem, the two leaders battled the golem, bones cracking from their assault, but not breaking. Their attacks did not slow, slamming into bone over and over again. Men and women around them fell to the giant’s return blows, being crushed into the ground or sent flying through the air. An unmeasured strike sent Inaru sailing backward. The warchief landed roughly on the ground, sliding on the dirt. The momentum carried him no less than twenty feet from the battle. A groan escaped his lips as he rose, steadying himself on Storm.
We’re losing. Every golem he or the mages brought down had slain at least twenty men. And there were many more of the giants around them.
Part of him screamed to retreat. To pull Alaka by the hand and withdraw every soldier he could from the city, rousing the civilians and escorting them to safety. Souhal will be lost, he heard deep in his mind, there is no need to lose all their lives too. In response, Inaru snarled and nearly smacked himself in the face. Everyone was risking everything to save Gandaraar, and he had one of the only weapons that could make a difference in the battle.
The warchief leaped. Inaru bounded quickly across the open space between him and General Ranuiin’s unit, still engaged with the golem that had ejected him from the melee. The giant was screeching as it thrashed the elves about. One bumped into the general, and he stumbled. It was all the opening the golem could’ve asked for. His fist whistled as he slammed it down toward the elf. Bellowing, Inaru raised his axe high and pushed himself off the ground. Storm sailed into the golem’s leftward skull and lighting threw its bulk in all directions around them as the axe head flashed. Inaru crashed against the ground without the bones halting his charge. The warchief was only able to rise again on pure adrenaline
. He hurried toward where he’d seen Ranuiin, but when he arrived, only a bloody pulp remained of the general. He hadn’t been fast enough.
Fury took him. Incoherently, he screamed as he rushed on to meet a golem who’d slain all it had been battling. General Ranuiin’s men were behind him, eager to find vengeance for their leader.
Inaru’s charge met a backhand swing. The ogre-sized skeleton sent him sideways with a flick. Storm flew from his hand as he rolled against the dirt. He realized he didn’t want to get up. He knew his frequent tumbles had broken something in him, and that he was sick of taking them. Let someone else find the axe and fight this battle. I’m finished.
I’m done.
As if agreeing with the thought, the golem hadn’t switched his attention to any of the elves that charged at his side. The ground shook from its footsteps as it approached the prone orc. For half a second Inaru did nothing. Then, he stirred. No, no … I want to live. I want to lead my people. I … I want to raise a family. I won’t die here.
The golem was close. Inaru hadn’t the time to find Storm. He barely had time to heft the shield from the ground. He managed to buckle one of the straps before the golem raised its fist to him. He covered as much of himself as he could with the metal bulk.
GHNN!
“Urrr!” he groaned through clenched teeth.
GHNN!
Crack!
“AAGG!” He screamed as his left arm broke from the force of the blow. One more—two, if he had any luck left—would end him. Inaru’s right hand grabbed the dirt around him, searching for his axe. Begging for it.
GHNN!
“NNNAAAH!” Inaru knew he’d never use his left arm again. Not in any way that mattered, at least. This was it. The shield was nothing more than a cratered slab. One more and it was over.
He was done.
The golem raised his fist. Its descent began. It fell like a sack of bricks. It was going to end him.
But he found Storm. His hand wrapped around the handle tightly, as if he would never let it go again. He brought it around and the axe’s head cut into the massive fist of his assailant. The rune flashed more incandescently than any time before as lightning shredded the golem’s bones into ash then crackled into the sky. Inaru could barely believe it. He felt himself deflate. Adrenaline could only do so much, and it did no more for him. The warchief blacked out, asleep in a ditch that was almost his grave.
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As the lightning bolt shot upward into the sky, Joravyn knew beyond a doubt Inaru yet lived. He couldn’t help but wonder why that surprised him. He’s probably just as exhausted as I am. Joravyn had been forced into a break. His arms had grown so numb he couldn’t lift them to direct his spells. It was everything the man could do to stave off passing out.
A few more mages had arrived to aid the defense. Their numbers hadn’t exceeded Sifa’s expectations however. And one of them had already fallen from weariness. Two more weren’t far behind. Lytha and Ellaria were close by, shooting their projectiles into a golem. Their assault had managed to splinter one of its three skulls, but nothing more. The golem prior they’d distracted with their machinations, pulling its attention from the soldiers while the mages blasted it apart. No doubt they intended the same here.
With an exasperated sigh, Sifa Lokton sat down beside Joravyn. Though, her movement was more of a fall than anything. For a moment, they didn’t speak. They were both too weak to.
He was the first to manage words, “How many left?”
“Too many.”
Joravyn shook his head. “We … we can win.”
“The only way that can happen,” Sifa began, “is if … is if someone can take out the source. The necromancers behind … the golems. Otherwise, we won’t stand a chance … not even with fifty mages. Not even with five hundred.”
“You’re right,” Joravyn groaned. “But you’re wrong too.” The mage began to rise. His arm felt strange and unsupportive as he used it to push himself off the ground. “The number isn’t … isn’t relevant. It’s who the mages are.” He flashed a smile. Sifa only watched as Joravyn stumbled toward the edge of the walkway, leaning on the stone palisades for support as he held his arms in the air. Unformed arcane energy whirled around him, through him. So much of the energy gathered that visible lines of rushing, pure magic danced around his form. The defenders cleared room for him, and the vortex of energy expanded to fill the space. Joravyn felt a fire burning inside his skull. His teeth felt like they would split apart. His limbs roared in protest and threatened to eject from him. His eyes nearly burst. Every inch of him screamed as the tempest swirled around him. Joravyn held the power in as long as he could manage, storing as much of it as he could.
He sent it into the overcast night sky. Into the clouds. The fluffy white covering transformed into a nebula of arcane energy, glowing brightly over the battlefield. Torrents of pure magic burst from it like water from a dam, pummeling the golems and reducing them to ash. Joravyn manipulated the power beyond his limit. It seemed like an eternity. He wondered if he could channel the magic forever. He fainted a second later.
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Ellaria cursed loudly. She slapped Joravyn’s immobile face. The mage didn’t stir. She dragged him away from the edge of the wall and into the nearby tower. A few men were restocking their quivers inside, but they neither said anything nor looked her way. “Joravyn, wake up,” she pleaded. Ellaria knew he couldn’t, but she asked anyway. His chest was heaving shallowly. Even asleep his breaths were labored. Impossible, almost. The spell had nearly killed him.
With a sigh, she rose and moved back onto the walkway. The other mages, of which there were four and Sifa Lokton, were using spells that while not as exhaustive were much less effective than Joravyn’s own. Her comrade’s display had reduced no less than twenty-eight golems to ash by her count, and yet there were still so many left it was as if he’d done nothing.
Ellaria nearly gave up on even drawing her bowstring. There was only one way this battle could end.
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Ulthan’s sword whistled through the air. He nearly fell to the ground as his opponent dodged the arcing strike. A staff of ivory bone smacked him in the side and he yelped with pain. The incision in his chest was distracting him. His blows swung wide and he could barely stand. His parries merely served to throw the blade of his foe off course, not stop it. He was unspeakably glad his opponent had been beating him with his staff rather than drawing the dagger at his belt. He could handle the bruises when they came. He knew he couldn’t afford to lose much more blood.
His assailant’s staff swung at him in a downward arc. His sword met the weapon with an angled parry that sent it sliding toward the ground. Ulthan stomped on the spire of bone quickly. It survived the blow and with a tug from its master, it ruined Ulthan’s footing. The auzixian fell.
The staff stabbed at his chest plate but banged hollowly against them. Ulthan grabbed the staff at the bottom and yanked it toward himself. Rather than release his weapon, the necromancer tumbled to the ground. Ulthan’s blade met his descent, piercing through the bone plates and impaling the invader. He quickly glanced at the battles raging around him. Tyrdun had defeated one of the Exalted and was helping the guard captain with her assailant. Two of the necromancers had killed their opponents and were fighting against the orc who’d managed to slay one of their comrades. The orc was backed up by a scaleskin warrior who’d been helping Tyrdun before his opponent had fallen. Only one of the Exalted was unaccounted for. Their leader. The one who’d spoken.
Ulthan didn’t have to look long. A boot slammed into his side as the necromancer cursed him. “I refuse!” she yelled. “I refuse to let it end like this! Your people are weak!” Her boot slammed into him again. “Divided! We are one with our love for the Dark One! We are one!”
“Your dragon’s dead,” Ulthan coughed. Another kick. The impaled corpse and his blade were tossed from his fingers.
“NO!” she shouted. “You know no
thing of His power! He will never abandon us! Death cannot stop him!” Another kick. The woman reeled back. Ulthan rolled away and pushed himself up to his knees. The sorceress watched as he rose. “You rise? You rise when you know you will fail? You must know!”
“The people of Gandaraar will never stop fighting. It’s why you’ll never win. Even if the city fell, you could never destroy it. Souhal would rise. We will never lay down and accept defeat,” Ulthan said defiantly. “If your Dark One was as powerful as you claim, he’d have known that.” Ulthan’s feet became steady. Light radiated from him as his wound on his chest began to close. He pulled the magic into himself. He held his hand out, and a saber of flames manifested in his grip.
“Impossible,” the necromancer cried. Ulthan jumped forward. He swung right. The woman leaped backward. The auzixian met her head on. She raised her staff to block, but the flames whipped around it, and burned her face. The necromancer pulled magic of her own, surrounding herself with a writhing jade fog. Faces seemed to surface in the miasma, crying out in agony as Ulthan slammed at the cloud with his blade. His opponent jabbed at him with her staff, but on the fifth attempt, Ulthan knocked it away. “No! It won’t end this way!” the necromancer screamed.
She leaped on Ulthan. The miasma enveloped him as the invader’s fingers dug into his face. He could feel his vitality draining, being drawn from him. The fog seemed to thicken, but he realized he was being pulled into it. The necromancer was tearing out his soul.
No, no, Ulthan thought. I can … I can do this.
Light burst from him once more. The illumination shattered the fog away and sent the necromancer reeling. Ulthan moved to finish the fight, chasing the end of the battle.
But the magic had left him with nothing. He fell.
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The necromancer cackled. She drew the large onyx blade of her companion off the ground. She dragged it across to the auzixian’s prone form, raising it into the air as high as she could. She gasped as a hammer of black stone knocked the fatal strike away.
