by Lucas Thorn
“This'll hurt,” she muttered.
Chukshene skipped aside with a yelp as Deadeye swung her goblinknife at his knees. A casual swipe meant to move him out of the way rather than actually inflict damage. It worked.
The men below began racing to block the stairs down.
Dead warriors moved among them, following with mindless intent.
The rest of the goblins were running through the gates. Their little froglike bodies ready to pounce. Goblinknives high. Screaming Eventide's name as they ran to protect their leader.
Who showed no concern.
Then Asa stopped everyone with a hiss. “Everyone, be still!”
Her words lashed with authority and even Tophead rocked to a halt and looked at her in obedience. Blinked a few times as he tried to figure out what was happening.
Jagtooth took a step toward the goblins.
And stopped as Asa grabbed his arm, sharp nails digging into his forearm. Her yellow eyes glinted dangerous in the morning light. “I said, be still.”
“You can't be serious.” The ork's red eyes widened. “You can't. You've seen how many there are. Look what it took just to get this far. Even with what Ironclaw's brought us, we can't defeat the Black Blades as they are. There's too many of them. Leave them, Your Highness. They'll soon realise Bucky lost, and they'll go home. They can't stay there forever.”
“You're right,” she said. “They can't. And nor can we sit here forever, hiding. The Dark Lord built the Wall to protect us. But maybe it has made us weak. We've allowed the Wolfpaw Plains to be taken, Jagtooth. And what of the Deadlands? Do we even know what happens there anymore? Until Nysta, I've heard nothing from Lostlight for years. How is this protecting us? And when will they come again? What if they decide to fortify out there? What then? They build a port. How long before they discover the secret which ensures the raiders hold the Sea of Blood? How long before they take Dragonclaw? Years? Months? Maybe weeks if Rule moves his armies from Sharra. You saw his avatar today, but if he smells our blood, our real blood, he'll sit out there in the flesh and wear us down. We cannot keep the Doomgate closed. Without it, there's no trade with the Twin Kingdoms. And we'll need them more in the future, I feel it. The goblins are right. We need to do something. Something which will drive them back and have them think twice about returning so soon.”
“Please don't do this, Asa,” he said, urgency making him lean close. “This risks dooming us all.”
Vuk shuffled forward, Inkiri helping to hold him upright. “If I might interrupt? Look there. You will see our humble necromancer running through the mud. The poor man is unused to such exercise and has had a very trying day. I'm surprised he's even walking. If I were him, I'd be flat on my back. And there, you see his lover running to meet him. It's not as romantic as you think. He has news for you. News you will want to hear.”
Chukshene looked interested. “What news?”
And the deathpriest's green eyes met Nysta's gaze. What passed between them, she didn't know. But there was a tingle in her shoulder as the worms within paused in what they were doing. Then he looked away, his hooded face aiming at the young-looking imperial princess. “His spell. It is out of his control now. The Wall has taken it, as it was made to do.”
“Out of his control?” Asa paled. “In what way? Damn you, Vuk, this was your idea.”
“Yes,” he said. “Yes, it was. And I hope you remember that when you think of dragging me across the continent to Doom's Reach. You see, while you stand here, it continues to raise the Freemen who swore their oaths. Their bones have been remarkably preserved, thanks to the enchantments left by Lornx. He appears to have thought of everything. A remarkable man, wouldn't you say?”
Asa scowled. “He was a bastard.” Then frowned. “If they're still rising, where are they?”
“Where they fell, Your Highness,” he said lightly. Then pointed to the Doomgate. “Where they remained, forgotten by most men. In the fields of battle.”
She moved fast, small hand snatching Jagtooth by his shirt. “Find General Ironclaw. I want everyone at the Doomgate. Everyone. And I want them there now. Vuk, you will open the Doomgate.”
“I will try.”
“You will open it,” she snapped, then turned toward Chukshene. “Apprentice, you are a warlock. You work with demons. Get down there. I want you to bring everything you can. Everything. Hold nothing back.”
“Umm-”
“Everything, I said! Inkiri, go get Meatslice. I want him to get the Wall's defences in place. I imagine now we don't have goblins to worry about, Vuk can put things right again?”
The deathpriest said nothing, but there was no mistaking the air of humour which emanated from him as he nodded. “I believe there are some machines, but not many. Most will take time to unlock. Time you don't have. But I left a few free, just in case. I will need only ten men. Make sure they have brains and can follow orders.”
Inkiri slipped free of the deathpriest and moved away without a word.
“Me not understand,” Deadeye said to Tophead. “They not want us to open Big Gate? Then why now they open Big Gate?”
The old goblin shrugged. “Humans,” he said.
And the elf, still crumpled against the wall, reached up to feel the gaping wound beneath the soaked cloth. Could feel the worms wriggling beneath her touch and sparks of pain snapped into her mind so fast she moved her hand away with a gasp.
“And you, Nysta,” Asa's gaze flicked to her. “You will not be needed for this fight. You have done more than enough. The price you demanded was higher than you realise. And though it rends my heart to think of it, I would pay it a thousand times over and consider it a bargain. For this reason, we are not even. It doesn't matter what I said before. For what you've done today, I owe you. I don't forget these kinds of debts. Stay here. Rest. I'll have a healer sent to you.”
“I'm fine,” the elf growled, feeling an edge of fear at the thought of enduring questions she didn't know the answers to. “Reckon I just need to keep still for a while is all.”
“Are you sure?”
“She's tougher than she looks,” Chukshene put in.
“I did not ask you, apprentice.”
“I am not leaving this place, Your Highness,” Vuk said, lowering himself into a similar position as the elf. “I will open the Doomgate from here before meeting Meatslice. I will ensure she is seen to.”
“Thankyou, Vuk.” The imperial princess shot the elf another look. “When this is over, Nysta, I would like to talk to you. I have an offer for you. One I think you will find generous.”
Then she turned, facing the soldiers and the dead gathered at the base of the wall of Lovespurn. A wall they'd fought to reclaim. Her smile twisted in cruel pleasure as she took note of Bucky's survivors, their bodies torn and filled with necromantic fire as they stood shoulder-to-shoulder beneath her.
Hemlock reached the top, red-faced and desperate.
“Your Highness, I-”
“She knows, necromancer,” Vuk called, a hint of cheerfulness in his voice. “Be at ease. And prepare yourself.”
“Prepare? For what?”
And Asa spoke. She spoke to the soldiers who'd just bled for her. Spoke to the mercenaries who'd just killed for her. Spoke to the traitors who'd just fought against her. And she spoke to the orks who'd come running from Ghostfear to stand with her.
“The Dark Lord built the Wall,” she said, voice raised high in the manner of someone who'd spent most of their life making speeches. “He built it for us to hold. And today, we held it. Today, an army of traitors tried to open those gates to let King Scarrow and his hordes into the Fnordic Lands. But we stopped them. And now, in their death, they fight for us. Look to them. See how they hunger for battle. You watched them fight. Saw they refuse to bend. Refuse to yield. They are bound by magic so ancient and powerful that even Rule himself is afraid of it! Yes! You heard me right. He is afraid! And today, you will witness why. Because on the other side of the Doomgate, as we s
tand here, Scarrow's men are dying. They are bleeding. They are being torn to pieces by the Oathsworn. Even death could not stop them from defending our land. Will we stand here and hide while those who gave their lives for us are fighting for us again? Will we stand here and show weakness when we could be out there showing the world that the Fnordic Lands will never be broken? Some of you were here when the avatar of Rule arrived. An avatar! He can't be here in flesh because he's weak. Are we weak? Or are we strong? Are we Children of Nothing, as they would have us be? Divided and destroyed by the sorrow of his passing? Will we forever grieve and be laid low by it? Or will we rise to embrace the Dark Lord's legacy and truly become the Children of Grim? Well? Answer me. What do you want to be?”
The soldiers, as one, stamped their boots. Weapons raised high and voices roaring defiance as they shouted the answer she wanted to hear. An answer not given since the fall of a god, but one which left no doubt as to where they'd all be going next.
“Grim! Children of Grim!”
“The Dark Lord watches over you now,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. Tears in her eyes as she remembered him. “He sees you. And his darkness will ride in our wake. Today you will see the dead rise to fight the dreaded Black Blades of Cornelia. And you will see more, my friends. You will see the future of the Fnordic Lands today. We will not fall. We will rise!”
“Rise!”
“To the Doomgate! Let it open so we can bring blood. Blood and death to the invaders!”
The orks, numbering thousands. The dead, numbering hundreds. The humans, in their dozens. And a handful of goblins. All marched without rhythm, eager to be the first to pass through the Doomgates.
All shouting the same battlecry.
“Asa! Asa! Asa!”
And the imperial princess stood on the wall, arms at her side. Bloodstained shortsword in hand. Smile curling dangerously as she strode toward the stairs, wiping thin trails of wetness from her eyes. She pointed a regal arm at Vuk as she passed. “Open the gates, Vuk. Open them now. Let them run through.”
He nodded. “As you command, Your Imperial Majesty.”
The title wasn't lost on her and her smile twisted catlike. “All in good time, Vuk. All in good time.”
When they were alone, the deathpriest turned to the elf. “You felt the connection earlier. When Hemlock touched the throne. I won't ask how you did this. In truth, I don't need to. I won't ask to confirm by seeing your wounds. Now is not the time, I think. Our order has a monastary, Nysta. In the Trollspit mountains east of Dragonclaw. It is easy to find, but hard to get there. This is not a riddle. When you are ready, come to us. We'll be waiting. Now, I will open the Doomgate. I say this to warn you, because you felt the connection. This will be different.” His teeth gleamed inside his hood. “Truth be told, if I had a stomach, I'd throw up every time. Are you ready?”
“Have you looked at yourself lately? Feller, just looking at you was enough to make me want to puke. Reckon I can take anything else you figure to show me.”
The deathpriest pulled himself to his feet and faced the Doomgate. “Then, in the spirit of trust, I'll tell you something few know. We were his first experiment. It is why only we can control the Wall. Because it is made of us. And we of it.” He dropped the hood from his face. Held up the key he'd taken back from Deadeye. It glowed blood red as he turned it toward himself like a dagger. Plunged it deep into his chest where it pierced his ribs and the space where his heart should have been. Then dozens of cords whipped out from the key, latching onto his bones. They tunnelled into marrow, drilling deep. The deathpriest gasped, only just managing to hold himself upright. Held his other hand up, palm aimed at the Doomgate.
“Open.”
And the ground shook. Lightning ripped down the side of the towers. The clouds burst, sending rain in waves. The massive chains within the Doomgate crashed against each other. Stone moved within the earth like continents colliding. And where it had only opened to a thin slit to allow her in, now it kept opening.
Opening with shock after shock of roiling energy which rippled outward and through the elf.
The deathpriest had been right.
She curled onto her side and vomited.
Watched through squinting eyes as Vuk struggled to stay on his feet. The cords slithered further through his body, forming veins and arteries. Oozing slime and what might have been coagulated blood. The stink of magic. The stink of flesh.
The horror of the deathpriest's face as he turned, skull gleaming at her through scraps of skin which leaked rancid fluid from every pore. Green eyes focussed on her and she could feel his expression was one of pain and discomfort.
A bell, deep within the Wall, rang and rang again.
Asa's army pored through the gates like a flood of steel and death. Roaring her name, they entered the Wolfpaw Plains which was already a bloody field of battle with skeleton warriors in their rotting armour and rusty weapons hacking at King Scarrow's shocked army. An army which was as splintered and broken as the undead creatures which had dragged themselves from the ground at their feet.
Nysta moaned, rolling to her knees.
Looked up and saw Vuk's face. Thick yellow pus dribbled down his exposed cheek bone.
“Ugh,” she said, looking down to the sour puddle she'd expelled only a few seconds before. “That's sick.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The deathpriest stood beside the elf. Inkiri had returned to stand on his other side. She didn't say a word, and he didn't acknowledge she was there. Whatever their relationship was, the elf had no way of guessing and felt no inclination to intrude.
They stood within one of the viewing platforms in the Wall and watched the chaos bloom like a flower of countless crimson petals. When she'd first looked out, the elf had been horrified by the sheer number of dead soldiers wreaking carnage on the Black Blades who found their ranks ripped apart by panic. Though in size they seemed evenly-matched, it was apparent the Black Blades were in disarray and were fighting for their lives.
And losing.
Fast.
Now, an hour later, she was numb to it all.
They'd come to one of the lower platforms beneath where Meatslice and a few orks and mercenaries worked with a couple of ballistas to send flaming bolts spearing across the fray. Bolts which landed with a fearsome detonation of fire and fragments of metal. Splinters of wood. All of which turned most men to mists of crimson.
The rest were left writhing and screaming in the blood-drenched dirt.
She cradled her useless arm, face wet with sweat as the pain kept throbbing. Mixed with the feeling of worms nibbling on the surrounding tissue. Sliding against the bone.
Still couldn't feel anything below her shoulder and was trying not to feel afraid. Was trusting to the worms that feeling would return and with it mobility.
Her lips pressed tight together. Eyes squinted at the battlefield.
She often caught sight of Melganaderna. The giant axe blazed purple, shining like a beacon. She knew where Melganaderna walked, the Old Skeleton danced gleeful in her wake.
Asa was always close to the young axewoman, also protected by Jagtooth. Ironclaw had brought an Imperial Banner, and it was raised in her wake. A black cloth with a white crown stamped firmly in the centre.
Her name was still being chanted and far from fading in intensity, it was rising as the Black Blades fell. Becoming a wave on which the Fnordic army of living and dead were riding to glory.
Even Meatslice, every time he released a murderous bolt, shrieked her name. “Asa!”
Hemlock and Chukshene had found a small hill close to the bridge which led like a dark tongue from the Doomgate. For most of the hour, Chukshene had been working on something. The hill was ringed with glowing purple runes and a circle of occult design. A few orks and a dozen or so mercenaries stood close. Tophead and Kickleg stood among them, holding back the few Black Blades who'd sensed the importance of what they were doing and tried to stop them.
Hicks and Hudson were with the warlock, too. Hicks looked to be in charge, directing the orks to their positions and shouting at them to keep where they were. Stopping everyone from running to join the battle and leave the two spellslingers exposed.
She saw Flin and Spoonfed. The mismatched pair fought well together.
“It's beautiful,” Vuk said softly. “Don't you think?”
“Ain't a word I'd put to it.”
“War is the soul of a people at its most exposed.” The deathpriest lowered his hood. His cheeks were still stained and moist from the key's use. The cords wound up his neck and under his jaw. Into his brain like slender black veins. He seemed to be standing straighter. “It's only when they war can the strength of their belief be so thoroughly tested. Only with war can a people prove their right to exist. I had feared for my nation, Nysta. When General Buckinum tried to betray us, I admit to losing hope. I thought perhaps old prejudices would prove the poison which finally kills us. You are from Lostlight, an orphaned state of only one people. Elfs. So perhaps you don't understand how the Fnordic Lands is a place of many peoples. A place where even a troll can walk the streets of Dragonclaw. It is a place where the despised have gathered to make their stand, and they know they can only do this together. They know without the powers Grim possessed, they can't face Rule. But they'll try. Look out there, Nysta. Look how hard they fight for the Fnordic Lands. For you. And when they've given you their all, some stagger and fall. But watch them return to their feet if they can. Look at the blood being spilled and don't see it for death. See it for the fight which proves our right to exist. Our right to live. And see a fight we have won before we even took the field. For this reason, it is beautiful.”
Inkiri brushed his upper arm with her fingers, then moved her hands quickly. It took the elf a moment, but she'd seen this kind of thing before. The girl was speaking with her fingers. Her expression was amused.
The deathpriest nodded, then the skin of his face drew back into a genuine smile.
