Shadow Sun Unification: Shadow Sun Book Five

by Dave Willmarth

  Nancy was giving orders in raid chat, telling his people to begin alternating attack spells to conserve mana. Based on the numbers they were still seeing coming at them, this fight could easily last through the rest of the day and night. Just like Allistor and other leaders, she suspected that this was just a preliminary. A way to drain their resources and tire their combatants before the real attack began.

  As Allistor looked down the wall to where Nancy was standing, another of the AoE necrotic spell attacks struck. This one seemed more powerful than the others, as she and a dozen citizens began to scream, dropping to the stone at the top of the wall and writhing in pain. Allistor took off at a sprint as other healers rushed in from nearby. He was too far away to cast Restore, and even if he could, he knew it did no good against the necro spell. The problem was that two of those afflicted by the spell were the light magic healers Nancy had gathered to cure the effects of the dark magic spell.

  Allistor watched as one of those two casters managed to grit through the pain and heal herself properly. As soon as her gyrations slowed, she had the presence of mind to heal the other light mage, a large man who was convulsing face down next to her. Allistor began to feel relieved, confident that the two healers could help the others, when fate chose to teach him a lesson.

  Nancy, still writhing in agony near the two healers, rolled off the back side of the wall. Allistor screamed in wordless terror as he tried casting Levitate on her. He was still too far away, and the spell failed. He watched helpless as her body impacted the concrete at the base of the wall, a pool of blood spreading around her shattered skull.

  The two healers had seen her fall, and were both casting heals at her. The moment Allistor got into range, he began casting heals of his own, desperately hoping it wasn’t too late.

  *****

  Goodrich and his team were holding their position in the corridor, waiting for reinforcements, when their makeshift alarm by the grate started clattering. Instantly they were on their feet and looking warily back the way they had come. The clattering was followed by a loud clang, the sound of the grate being thrown open fully and crashing against the concrete floor. More rattling of pots and pans, as if something were tangled up on the twine, was accompanied by a roar of rage that echoed off the concrete walls.

  The sound reached the cavernous room full of undead, causing the nearest of them to turn their heads in response, shifting their paths toward the tunnel and the group of raiders hiding inside. Their moans grew louder, alerting more of their companions, who in turn alerted even more in a wave that rippled across the horde.

  With their full attention focused on whatever had just emerged from the grate, none of Goodrich’s group noticed the increased sounds of zombies growing closer behind them.

  They didn’t have long to wait before discovering what had come through the grate. The sounds of pots and cookware being dragged across concrete was quickly approaching. The monster had obviously been snagged in the fishing line and hadn’t been able, or hadn’t bothered to clear itself. Two more light globes pushed forward over the tanks’ heads and out as far as the casters could maintain them, about a hundred feet. As the approaching monster entered the lit area, every member of the group gasped in fear or revulsion.

  Necrotic Amalgamation #3

  Level 44

  Health: 59,000/59,000

  The creature was something directly out of a low budget horror vid. It looked like someone had taken the body of a large cat, probably a lion, and began stitching random body parts to it. Except that each of those body parts was also animated and functioning. It had the thick neck and head of a gorilla, with four-inch upper and lower fangs. Jutting out from the shoulders just above its forelegs were a pair of crab forearms with oversized pincer claws. The lion’s tail had been replaced with a massive segmented scorpid tail complete with stinger that glistened with venom. The monster was obviously undead, great patches of its fur missing, exposing dead grey flesh underneath. Large chunks of it were missing, as if it had already been in several fights and was unable to heal any damage it had taken. One particularly deep wound exposed three of its ribs along one flank. Goodrich guessed that some sick bastard had found a zoo full of corpses and used them to create this obscene thing.

  “Oh, hell no.” Goodrich’s voice echoed off the tunnel walls. He flinched slightly, having surprised himself by unintentionally speaking out loud. There were some softer mutterings from those behind him.

  The amalgamation roared in reply, stepping forward at a slower pace than Goodrich expected. As it moved, its head bobbed awkwardly, and its pincer arms shifted forward out of sync with its feline legs, twisting its body with each step. Clearly it hadn’t adjusted fully to its altered form.

  “Put it down!” Goodrich called out, not wanting the beast to get any closer. The two tanks stepped forward, moving closer together and raising shields. Goodrich cast Flame Shot at the thing’s head even as he equipped his bow and quiver. He and the other archers began peppering the thing with arrows while the casters burned, froze, and electrocuted it.

  The mob simply absorbed the damage, shaking off the loss of an eye to a lucky arrow, ignoring the crisping and bubbling skin on its face. The lightning attacks did stun it for a few seconds, causing it to stumble as its legs seized up but its forward momentum continued. Still it advanced toward the group, its health dropping quickly. Goodrich could clearly see it would reach them before they managed to kill it, so he called out, “Slow retreat. Back twenty feet. Keep firing!”

  He was just starting to follow his own orders when one of the archers in the back shouted frantically. “Boss! Company on our six! Oh, Shit!”

  Turning to look over his shoulder, he saw both the other archers turn and begin firing almost point blank into a wall of undead mere steps in front of them. Panic struck him, the nightmare image of so many undead crowding against his team with no tanks to hold them back causing his heartrate to double and a cold chill to run down his spine.

  Dropping his bow, he grabbed his shield and leapt toward the oncoming wave. “Mages! Vortex on their front line! Archers, focus on the big one! Burn it down or cripple it! Tanks, push it to one side if you can, so we can get past it. Put it between us and the horde!”

  He turned his five foot tall shield sideways and slammed it into the nearest zombies in the center of the corridor, knocking them back and buying himself a second. He quickly grabbed two grenades from his inventory, pulling the rings with his teeth and spitting them out before lobbing the explosives over the heads of the undead in front of him. A few seconds later two explosions filled the corridor and splattered the walls and ceilings with gore. Goodrich shoved against the front line again, then again, before stepping back to take a few deep breaths.

  Two vortex spells came to life in front of him, the small tornadoes forming just behind the first row of undead, who were being trampled after Goodrich had knocked them down. He raised his shield and took more steps back as bits of dead flesh and bone began to be ejected by the whirlwinds. It was not ideal, as his people would take some damage from shrapnel, but it formed an effective barrier to hold back the undead while they dealt with the gorilla-cat-scorpid thing.

  A scream from behind caused him to look over his shoulder. He saw one of the two tanks falling backward, his left leg severed below the knee by one of the giant claws. Before anyone could act, the other claw darted forward and grabbed the tank’s other leg, dragging him forward even as he slashed at it with his sword. The blade bounced off the hardened claw, small chips flying off with each strike. The tail whipped forward, but the experienced fighter had the presence of mind to block the strike with his shield, causing a splatter of venom.

  One of the mages hit the creature’s face with another Flame Shot, causing it to roar even louder. The claw holding their tank released his leg, and his counterpart bravely darted forward to grab his buddy and drag him backward. Several heals fell on the wounded man, the blood spurting from his severed leg slowing, then
stopping as two of the mages took over, dragging him into the center of the group as their remaining healthy tank took up position in front of the enraged amalgamation.

  Necrotic Amalgamation #3

  Level 44

  Health: 17,330/59,000

  They weren’t burning it down fast enough. A glance showed Goodrich that scattered zombies were making it past the vortexes, heavily damaged but still moving forward as the hundreds behind kept pushing. He produced two more grenades and lobbed them several rows back, the swathe of destruction they created reducing the pressure for a moment. He moved quickly to shield bash a few of the advancing enemy back into the vortexes. Not being a tank, he didn’t have any special bash ability, just his own momentum and body strength.

  Once again his attention was split when their healer shouted, “Look out!” Goodrich glanced back to see the monster activate some kind of ability that sent it hurtling forward. Its bulk struck their tank, plowing through him and knocking him back into the others. Both pincers shot forward, one closing on a mage’s chest and crushing her, the other taking an arm from their healer. Underneath its body, the lion’s claws were attempting to shred the fallen tank, who was doing his best to keep his shield between him and it.

  Worst of all, the mage who was being slowly cut in half by the pincer was one of the two who’d been maintaining the Vortex spells. Goodrich groaned in despair as the vortex to his left began to dissipate, more zombies already pushing through it, ignoring the rapidly weakening damage it was dealing. Goodrich cast his own Vortex into the gap, but it was a spell he rarely used, and thus was only at level one. His tiny whirlwind looked pathetic next to the much higher level one, and did little to hold back the horde. He added in the Repel Undead spell, placing it between the horde and his group, hoping to keep them back.

  One of the archers and a mage grabbed the one-legged tank and lifted him to his feet, where he gamely raised his shield and used a taunt ability on the amalgamation. The archer left the mage to support the tank from behind, resuming fire on the apelike face of the creature. The mage, holding up the tank with one hand under each armpit, turned back toward Goodrich and shook his head. His message was clear.

  They weren’t going to survive this fight.

  Their healer, still in the fight despite a missing arm, called out, “Reinforcements two minutes out!”

  “Tell them to move their asses! We’ll be dead in two minutes!” Goodrich growled, plowing into more zombies along the left side, pushing as many as he could toward his right where the remaining vortex was still spinning. The mage who was still channeling that spell obligingly moved it closer to the center, intending to take some of the pressure off of Goodrich. Unfortunately, that also allowed some of the undead to squeeze past along the right hand wall, with no tank there to oppose them. They were pushed through the Repel Undead area of effect by even more zombies behind them, groaning in pain as they pressed forward.

  There was a sickening squelch as the captured mage quit screaming, the pincher finally shattering thru ribs and cutting the body completely in half. Goodrich found himself surprised that it took so long for a fatality to happen. Though all of his people were improved far beyond human physical norms and able to take considerable punishment, his mind still thought in old world terms, where the loss of a limb or crushed ribs would quickly lead to death.

  His musing was cut short as four badly decomposed and wind-shredded undead tackled one of the archers from behind, knocking him over and piling on top of him. Goodrich couldn’t help him, already pressed to his limits by the zombies grabbing at his shield or attempting to push him back. The floor was getting slick with grime that had been splattered everywhere by the vortexes, and he was having trouble holding his ground. The only thing saving him was that the undead were having the same problem.

  “Kill that damned thing!” He roared the command at the top of his voice, huffing with the exertion of trying to tank the horde.

  A moment later he heard another yell. The tank still trapped under the monster shouted, “Tell Felicia I’m sorry!” just before a huge blast wave knocked the raiders, Goodrich, and a good number of zombies off their feet. Flames scorched everyone, and Goodrich closed his eyes as he cast Restore on himself. When the heat dissipated enough that he felt it was safe to open them again, he saw the monster lay dead to one side of the tunnel, its legs mostly gone and a huge hole in its chest. A brief surge of hope rushed through him, immediately replaced by sorrow as he noticed what was left of the tank’s body. He had clearly sacrificed himself for the others, setting off a grenade or two directly under the monster’s belly.

  Getting to his feet, Goodrich saw that the blast had also finished off their healer. The remaining tank with the severed leg was laying atop the mage that had been supporting him. Both were unconscious and bleeding.

  Moans behind him stole the last bit of hope from Goodrich. The second Vortex spell had been interrupted by the blast, and the undead were advancing through the Repel Undead AoE.

  “Retreat!” He bashed his shield against the nearest zombies then stepped back, looking over his shoulder. The only ones back on their feet were one archer, two mages, and himself. Pointing to the unconscious but still living tank and mage, he ordered, “Drag them back toward the grate! Move it!”

  As his remaining mages stumbled to comply, the archer attempted to help him hold back the advancing horde. He fired an arrow point blank into one zombie forehead, the used his bow as a staff to push back three more, stepping backward as he fought. Goodrich did the same, slashing off limbs and heads with his sword as he bashed with his shield. He nearly tripped over the pile of zombies that were feeding on his downed archer, not wasting time trying to kill them, just moving further back before one decided to abandon its meal and attack him.

  “Clear!” one of the mages shouted as they dragged their unconscious teammates past the corpse of the monster and the remains of the heroic tank. Goodrich tossed two more grenades, the last two in his inventory, into the crowd.

  “Run!” he ordered the archer, who nodded once and took off, grabbing hold of the downed tank and helping to drag him faster. When the grenades went off, Goodrich gave the front line of undead one last bash, then began to jog backwards. He reached out and slapped the corpse of the monster as he passed, looting it. Two quick Flame Shot fireballs into the front of the horde, and he turned to jog away. Grabbing one arm of the unconscious mage, he helped drag them faster. The grate was in sight. If they could drop down and pull it closed before the horde reached them, they might make it out alive.

  Nearly exhausted after trying to tank, Goodrich pushed himself to the limit, increasing the speed at which he dragged his friend. The mage was waking up, and began to struggle. Goodrich and the other mage let go, yanked them to their feet, and pushed them toward the open hole in the floor. Goodrich moved to help with the still unconscious one-legged tank, dragging him forward to the edge of the hole and unceremoniously dropping him through. The others leapt down as he cast more Flame Shots at the advancing undead, while lifting the heavy grate with one hand. He quickly realized he had a new problem. If he jumped down with the grate standing upright, it might not fall closed behind him. He tilted it mostly closed before dropping to sit on the edge of the hole, holding the grate above his head. With a twist of his body, he scooted off the edge and fell through the hole, letting go of the grate as he fell. He yanked his hands in toward his body, the heavy metal just missing them as the grate slammed shut. Because of the awkward angle of his fall, he hit the floor below flat on his back, knocking the wind out of him, and temporarily stunning him. All he could do was lay there and gasp, watching dozens of skeletal fingers try to reach him through the holes in the grate. Bits of undead flesh dripped down onto him, some just missing his open mouth and sticking wetly to his cheek.

  To his horror, those fingers gripped the grate in unison, and he heard the familiar creak of rusted hinges as the grate began to rise.

  He tried to call out a
warning, but was still unable to breathe.

  His teammates didn’t have that problem, their screams echoing out as undead bodies began dropping on top of them. The last thing Goodrich saw was a rotted face with yellowed and broken teeth lunging toward his face.

  He still didn’t have the breath to scream.

  Chapter 15

  Allistor was sitting on the ground next to Nancy, her head cradled gently in his hands as he carefully felt for wounds. Her skull had been cracked in the fall from the wall, and he suspected her neck had been broken as well. She’d lost a lot of blood, but thanks to the quick heals from above, she was still breathing. He’d jumped from the wall and run to her, sliding on his knees in the pool of blood that surrounded her head. The battle above was forgotten as he focused on keeping his dear friend alive.

  Just when he was reasonably sure that she would recover, and beginning to wonder if she’d have brain damage when she woke up, he heard the call on the radio. Reinforcements had arrived to find Goodrich and his crew wiped out. They were pushing back the zombies with the help of Prime’s droids, who were impervious to the bites and scratches from the undead. The droids had managed to climb the ladder and secure a beachhead around the grate, and the raiders were pushing the horde back.

  Allistor was angry.

  This lich had already killed a couple of kids in his first attack. Now he’d wiped out Goodrich and his entire raid group, and nearly killed Nancy. How many more of his people was he going to lose?

  Motioning for another healer to take over caring for Nancy, he got to his feet, her blood dripping from his knees as he stepped away, wiping bloody hands on his thighs. Walking away from the wall, he ducked into a nearby burned out townhouse, the sounds of battle fading slightly as he walked through the structure and out the back into a small courtyard. He needed time to think.