Hikow leaned over to his file leader, Tareal, and whispered. “Leave two men and move on. Send a runner back to report what to expect.”
Tareal nodded to Quequa and another elf by the name of Rafe, and he motioned for them to stay. Quequa nodded back and remained crouched low as he watched the others disappear into darkness.
The minutes began to blend together, and Quequa started feeling this strange sensation in his brain. He thought he had only been on guard for a few minutes, but something nagged in the back of his mind to make him believe he had been here much longer. He was trained to go long distances, without food or sleep, but for some inexplicable reason, he struggled to stay awake. It was as if a heavy weight was on his mind that he could not shake. He crouched ten yards from Rafe; still in visible sight.
“Did you see something?” he whispered to Rafe in a rumble no louder than the breeze.
“No. I didn’t see anything,” the other shot back, barely audible. “Quiet.”
Quequa kept an eye on where the enemy was camped, but he kept feeling himself nodding. He was starting to feel his eyes closing but then startled himself awake. Again, time seemed to blur; he was not sure if he had dozed off for a second or a few minutes. He looked over to the other position but didn’t see his comrade.
“Rafe. Rafe?” It was a low whisper, but he received no answer.
“Rafe!” He cried out, and immediately after he realized how stupid it was to do. The tiredness was addling his brain, clouding his judgment. Quequa felt something looming behind his shoulder. Turning slowly, he saw what looked like a scarecrow in the woods. It was not there before. Where did it come from? He turned back momentarily to look again for Rafe, but he was still not there. He turned back when he heard the rustling of branches, and the scarecrow was just about on him.
Panic rippled through him; this was no ordinary scarecrow. It seemed ethereal, as if it had some sort of cloudy aura around its body; and where the head should have been, there was nothing but a gaping mouth with rows of jagged teeth. He tried to move, but he couldn’t. His arms and legs didn’t work the way they should. He couldn’t get up and crawl; it was on him, grabbing his legs. Its overgrown talons cut into his flesh as it wrapped one long, pointed hand around him.
The Gladestalker tried to reach for his knife, but it wouldn’t come out of its scabbard. He started to scream for help as the terror gripped him. He saw the hand of bark reach up, moving toward his neck. The knife came free and he slashed at the creature until it finally let go. Finally, he stabbed away at the being, screaming in his head, making sure it was not moving.
All of a sudden it was as if a fog was lifted from his sight and his head cleared. It was deadly quiet, but there he was with blood up to his elbows. He started to hyperventilate and collapsed in a heap, cross-legged, dropping his knife. Rafe was next to him, dead. There was a noise ahead of him – he could see the enemy coming his way. He sat there for a second, broken in spirit, when he reached for his knife.
He saw the scarecrow of his nightmare standing there. He opened his mouth to scream again, but the scarecrow plunged its pointed arms into him. In his last moments of life, he finally found the eyes of the beast, and he stared into its blank sockets. They seemed to light up – as if his soul was passing into it.
*****
The Gladestalkers arrived back into the camp in small groups as they collapsed their screen of scouts around the fortified position. Frebar approached Sindfar for his report.
“Commander, we have confirmed our previous suspicions. The creatures that walk among the undead ranks are as you feared. Their army is much larger than anything we have seen before, as well. We can fight a hit-and-run battle to delay them, but I’m not sure we can stave them off if we stay here. To remain is suicide.” He paused, straightening. “Of course, that is only my opinion, sir.”
“We do not have the option of choosing our orders, like a roll of the dice, Frebar.” Sindfar rubbed his chin as he looked at Frebar. “We have orders. If these bones get on the plains, it will be harder to contain them. We must stall them here and give our allies time to arrive.”
“What sort of abominations did you see, Captain?” Anselmo, nearly forgotten, spoke up from where he stood.
“I have seen skeletons and vampires before, sir, but these were like walking nightmares – specters that seemed to float and scarecrows that walked. Their numbers kept ever-growing; I couldn’t keep track of them after some time. Many of the creatures had no eyes, but rows upon rows of fanged teeth. Beyond that, there are hundreds of the undead, more than I had ever seen before.”
“It sounds indeed as if the forces of the Abyss have called forth the Nightstalkers,” Anselmo nodded and then looked off into the distance, as if in thought.
Sindfar closed his eyes for a moment, sighed, and opened them once more. “Indeed it does. This is most unfortunate, but not unexpected. We must carry on our duty.”
“Commander, pardon me, but are you sure this is wise?” Sindfar looked back at Anselmo, a look of real concern on his face. “I have heard stories in the past of their link to the elves. It seems your race is especially susceptible to them. I have been worried that their arrival on this earth would be nigh once more, and because of that, we have been working on a few contraptions for our defense before you came.”
Sindfar nodded. There was no hiding anything from this human anymore. “What sort of defenses do you speak of?”
The brother smiled and pointed toward the towers of the fort. “We have a few onagers scattered for launching stones. When I arrived, they were hardly in working condition, but I’ve been overseeing their repair, and they are ready. I have some small jars filled with combustibles and holy oil, as well staff slings and rocks. They might not seem like much, but these tools will be of great aid in the coming battle from keeping these creatures from the walls. I worry that the stones might be loose enough that they could tear through them. If they get in among us, they will overwhelm us.”
Sindfar turned when he heard one of the lookouts call out from the tower at the central gate. One of the children pointed toward the hills to the northeast. Finally, he saw two shapes that seemed like giant birds – no, they were bats – flying toward them. The bowmen were taking aim when Anselmo called them off.
“Don’t waste the arrows, fools!”
The bats circled the outpost twice before they dropped something from their claws and fluttered back to the hills. The objects hit the ground with a thud, bounced, and then rolled slightly. Hikow, back from the patrol, went over to them. He brought his torch over the objects and then visibly let his body sag. Sindfar already knew what it was, but he approached to look nonetheless.
“These... are the heads of my two scouts that went missing,” Hikow said to Sindfar, a mix of rage and disgust taking over his face.
“Brother Anselmo!” another one of the children lookouts called. “There… is something on the hills. Someone is there!”
Sindfar cursed under his breath and followed Anselmo as the priest ran to the courtyard. There, where the boy said, on the hills, were two necromancers conjuring up magic – there was a sulfuric smell that made their dark presence unmistakable. The sky seemed to light up with static electricity as they worked whatever devious arcane spells.
“There!” Anselmo yelled as he pointed at countless shapes moving down the hill. “They are here!”
*****
“We haven’t a minute to waste!” Ulle shouted as he pointed to the curtain walls. Soldiers hurried to their posts, bows at the ready. “Let your arrows fly true! Do not let any approach!”
The elven commander readied his own bow as he joined the other archers. A mass of ghouls was fast approaching with lines of skeleton warriors behind them. The archers set up on the wall with drawn bows aimed at the galloping ghouls that charged down at them. Ulle waited until they were within forty yards before he gave the signal, and the archers let loose a volley that shuddered the enemy line as the arrows found the
ir mark. Another barrage of arrows flew true, striking down the line of ghouls. Those remaining milled around slightly and then retreated, howling in frustration, as they continued to take casualties from the bowmen. They fell in behind the skeletons, using them for cover.
While the skeletons knew no fear, they could be more easily disrupted, as the magic that held the bones together and animated the creations was not as strong the further they grew from their masters. Their approach was slow, but it was unrelenting. A wraith lord was at their head, leading the army in a mix of robes and armor. Ulle heard a noise and then turned to see the first of the onagers let loose; a large rock smashed through a line of skeletons and the ghouls behind them. The bouncing rocks took out large blocks of the tightly-packed bone units, and he noticed that the lord was amongst the ranks taken out by a lucky shot. The magic which held the skeletons together, likewise, began to slacken.
The skeletons were thinned out, but they did not stop in their march. Despite his men’s best efforts, they had made it to the wall. Ulle cursed as he aimed down. If the wall seemed breakable from the outside, the skeletons did not notice it. In place of ladders, they climbed one another. It didn’t last long, as the arrows rained down and demolished the boney enemies. The last of the skeleton units were reduced to dust and the remaining ghouls returned back to the undead lines.
Ulle sighed, but the respite was short lived, and he straightened. The cacophony of the damned swelled to a frightening pitch and was all that he could hear. They were just being tested. This battle had only just begun.
*****
“What is wrong with you? We should have just overwhelmed them!” Yarik seethed, cutting the air with his arm. “Why didn’t you just let me lead this? You may be a good magician, but your wraith lord is a lousy general.”
Zar contained his rage, smoothing out his robes before making a quick move with his hands and throwing the vampire lord back against the tent wall and out through the opening. There was smoke rising off his fingers, blackening his nails a little more.
“Don’t ever question me like that again. You are lucky I am drained from controlling these blocks of undead.”
The vampire lord came up in a roll with his sword drawn, and he growled. The necromancer pointed a long bony finger at Yarik. “None of that. This is a waste of resources.” He exhaled from his nostrils and rubbed his gaunt cheeks with one hand. “Fine, Yarik. You feel you can lead us to victory? What would you have us do?”
*****
“They will probably come at us at once with a big force,” explained Sindfar, standing over a crudely drawn map, “and with that, the worst of the beasts will be there. They were just testing us with the skeletons and ghouls, but what they send next… they will not be so tame. Do we have any idea what we are dealing with?”
Ulle stepped forward. “We know they have giant bats, a troop or two of vampires, we’ve heard the howl of werewolves, and there are countless wights, revenants, and skeletons. We have yet to see any of the Nightstalkers that were reported, which is most worrisome. Leading the enemy are at least two necromancers, a vampire lord, and the wraith lord has been seen resurrected.”
“Get fires going and brands made if we can,” Sindfar nodded to his assembled soldiers. “Fire arrows may help with some of the undead, but the vampires will be the most difficult.”
“If I may,” Anselmo broke in, to which all eyes turned. “We have some oils for cooking and a little pitch left over from repairs. I would suggest setting up barrels for chokepoints to deal with them. I can also weave some wards to help.”
“Wards?” Sindfar’s eyebrows shot up. “I… didn’t realize that was part of your skillset, Brother. Just how powerful are you?
“I never said I was powerful,” the brother smiled calmly. “I just said I could weave some wards.”
Sindfar threw his hands up in exasperation. “Whatever the case, do what you can to arrange some sort of defense. Are there any other secrets we should know about?”
“No, Commander Sindfar,” the brother smiled calmly once more. There was something in that calm that the elf found almost eerie. Holy man or not, this Anselmo seemed to keep pulling ace cards out of his sleeve. He only hoped that luck would continue when they needed it most. “Oh, and the children will help me, of course.”
“The children?” Sindfar scoffed. “Whatever it is you think best. Just keep them out of the way when the fighting starts!” He turned back to his assembled men. “You have your orders. If there are no questions, get to them at once.”
After his soldiers dispersed, the elf commander walked out into the yard and surveyed what was left of his command. He placed his people where he could, where they would do the most good, with a small reserve to throw at any potential problem spots. A fear niggled in the back of his mind. He hoped those wards would prevent the fallen from rising back up and turning their blades against him.
*****
Yarik was a sight to behold at the head of the undead troops. Poised upon his hellsteed that screeched into the dead of night, he led the army of the undead down toward the fort that the elves had holed up in, his blade held high. What fools; there would be no more time for the ghouls to plod a slow course into the tips of arrows. Now was the time for his people to feast.
He gave off a ferocious howl, and the army of darkness behind him roared in response. It was time for them all to feast.
*****
Sindfar saw the undead charging down the hills. This time, there were no necromancers summoning ozone discharge. It was a brute force, dead and deadly. The onagers were ready when the first of the giant bats came roaring in and fired trying to hit the monsters. The archers, quicker than the archaic hurlers, managed to force one to the ground. It was wounded with a broken wing, and despite its dangerous claws and fangs, the foot soldiers were able to overwhelm and kill it. There were still two more circling the fort.
One dove down in a shriek, aiming straight for one of the catapults. The men manning the machine stood no chance. The monster tore them apart in the blink of an eye and broke the machine – two more soldiers were killed before the beast was stabbed between the shoulders by a lance. The second bat attacked another machine and broke it before a crack of fire engulfed the monster. Sindfar turned to see smoke coming from the cleric’s hands.
That spell – that magic. Had it really come from Anselmo…?
The commander was now down two machines and there was very little to stop the horde from reaching the walls. The archers had taken aim as the ghouls ran full-steam down toward the walls of the enclosure. Twenty yards away, they let loose a volley that annihilated the first rank. They were again so tightly packed that the ones that fell in the front tripped the ones in the back.
Sindfar gave a signal, the gates opened, and a section of riders streamed out to meet the ghouls. They rode down as many as they could, stabbing with lances and swords. The ghouls panicked at the death raining down on them and ran back from where they came again. This time, undead spearmen came forth and began thrusting toward the elves. Fearing they would be overwhelmed, the cavalry retreated back to the fort and prepared for the main assault. The vampire lord galloped into view and the earth seemed to shake with each step.
“Now my fellows, forward and feast!” His sword was pointed at the fort as he thundered onward. The dread in the voice sent shivers down Sindfar’s spine, and he gripped the handle of his sheathed blade tightly.
They came onward at the gallop as if they were going to run down the walls. It wasn’t until they stood within ten yards of the walls that the nightmares came to a halt. The lord tried to urge the creatures forward, but they would not budge. Sindfar turned toward Anselmo on the tower; the man was moving his arms in erratic circles, his eyes shut. One of the other vampires cried out as it was struck by an arrow – a holly shaft – then a fire brand, each hit the mark leaving an undead in pain or dead. The vampire lord rode his horse back and forth around the walls as the defenders shot at him. He used
his shield to protect himself, but he was clearly looking for a breach in the ward.
The skeleton warriors continued to march on amidst all this confusion. As they got closer to the walls, the defenders let loose a barrage of rock and projectiles in the hopes of knocking the skeletons down. If they could hold them here, they might be able to decimate them before the old man’s strength wore out.
Sindfar took in what was going on around the walls to see where the weak points were. The old man was shaking as he concentrated. He could see that trying to maintain the wards around the encampment was taking its toll on Anselmo. The old man did not seem to exude a great deal of power, and the fact that he was able to do what he was impressed the elf commander.
“Hold fast, Anselmo, and yet we might win this battle,” Sindfar muttered under his breath.
The dead warriors congregated at the edge of the ward field, unable to move forward anymore, and they began to pile into one another. It was as if they couldn’t notice that they were unable to proceed; they kept pushing forward, as if driven on by some sheer will to kill. Some of the front rank began to disintegrate into dust under the pressure against the ward, but cracks began to appear like sparks of light.
The pressure built until Anselmo could take it no more and he fell in a heap. With that, a burst of energy pushed out from the cleric. The first ranks of the skeleton warriors fell forward as they were released from their hold, and the back ranks marched over them. They approached the wall and again, without ladders, began to climb on each other to get to the defenders.
Sindfar began to grow anxious. His hand flexed on the handle of the sword as he watched the undead pile toward his men. What made it worse was noticing the bloodlust on the face of the vampire, realizing the ward was gone. The horse reared again and tore across the battlefield, faster than any mortal steed could. With a single leap, the nightmarish steed bounded the wall, and the vampire lord leapt off, onto the neck of one of the elven defenders. The horse bucked and kicked at the elves as its lord drank its meal.
Tales of Mantica Page 27
