Daron glanced over at Leah, with a mix of emotion heavy on his heart. Maybe Brynn was right. He gave a curt nod to the assembled guards waiting below, and strolled across the wall to Leah. She smiled as he approached.
Unsure what to say, he simply stood there, close to her. Even in the chill and the rain, she radiated warmth. They stared out into the twilight together in silence. Worry gnawed at his gut, his thoughts going to the scrap of paper he'd torn from the bulletin board. It was hardly the time, but he needed to know.
"Could you tell me more about the fire at the inn," he finally said. She stiffened beside him, and he instantly regretted it. He cursed himself silently. Couldn't he find something comforting to say, something to help take her mind off of the impending battle?
"I've told you all there is to say," she said colder than the rain about them. "There was a fire. Many people died."
"How did the fire start?"
She swiveled to glare at him. Copper eyes flashed with anger.
"How am I supposed to know that?"
"You're not telling me everything," he said a little hotter than he'd intended. Damn it all, why did they have to argue with a battle looming before them? "You can trust me, Leah," he said more softly.
The anger softened in her, though her face grew sad. She shook her head slowly.
"I can't trust anyone," she whispered.
"You won't tell me the truth?"
"I can't. You have to believe me on that."
"You can't tell me the truth, but ask me to trust you," he accused. By the void, why couldn't he just leave well enough alone? It gnawed at him, though, knowing there was something she wasn't telling him, something she was deliberately concealing. He was taking such a risk, trusting her. If there was guilt on her hands, and it was discovered he'd been protecting her... He tried not to think of the consequences. Justice could come for all, even a man of the Order.
Leah leaned forward onto the outer wall, staring down at the ground. She took a deep breath.
"It's complicated," she said. "You wouldn't understand. I need you to respect that."
"As you wish," he said with a low, mocking bow. He saw the hurt on her face, but he didn't care. She didn't trust him. That much was clear. Maybe Aiden had been right, and she was nothing but trouble. Without another word he spun and stalked back to his post on the wall. He heard her call his name softly, but it was washed out by a rumble of thunder. He didn't turn back.
Daron fished the folded parchment from his pocket that he'd taken from the bulletin board, carefully opening it up. Rain immediately pattered on the sketch there, marring the well drawn likeness of Leah inscribed upon it. He quickly read the note below the image again, though the words already were burned into his memory. Besides offering a very lucrative reward for her arrest, it stated that she was wanted for arson and the fire that had killed a dozen people.
He stared at it for a moment, his mind oddly blank, and then carefully returned it to a pocket. She was clearly hiding something. It appeared Aiden was right about her after all. He stared out in the darkness feeling miserable.
The attack came not long after his argument with Leah. There was no warning, no rallying battle cry or the call of trumpets. One moment there was an anxious silence, and the next came the report of a gun. A chunk of stone blasted away from the wall a foot to his right. He threw himself prone, nearly toppling from the narrow walkway.
"Here they come," he shouted to anyone within earshot. The message relayed quickly through the assembled defense as Dax roared a few last moment orders. In a few short minutes, the eastern gate bell began tolling again, a rapid staccato announcing the impending attack.
More shots whistled through the air, and he was glad they were so spread out on the wall. Let them waste their ammo as they closed. He glanced left and right to ensure that Leah and Brynn were accounted for. They were similarly crouched below the slight defense of the wall. Brynn flashed him an energetic grin. He could only shake his head. Only she would be excited by the battle.
He hazarded a look over the wall, and swore. A thousand men and women swarmed forward out of the darkness towards his position on the wall. Many carried roughly constructed ladders out of saplings and rope. Another shot skipped off the stone, and he ducked back down.
"Ladders forward," Dax called. His group of defenders had obtained ladders from merchants in town to better help them surge up to the wall when the attack came. Two dozen ladders rushed forward and were tipped up, slamming onto the narrow walkway.
"Shooters up," the guard captain commanded. Two dozen detached from the main group, pistols primed and ready in hand. They scrambled up the ladder, squatting low to keep out of incoming hail of bullets. Pressed with backs against the wall, they waited for Dax's order to fire. He risked another glance to judge the distance to the attackers, and prayed that whatever arcane talents had protected their leader from earlier fire didn't apply to the whole army, or this would be over very shortly.
A ladder loomed up out of the darkness, slamming into the stonework a few paces from his position. Dax bellowed an order from beside him, but it was lost to a crack of thunder. Daron realized it largely didn't matter. They already knew what to do. Two men jumped up and heaved on the ladder, throwing it back away from the wall. A shot took one of the men through the chest. Daron felt his heart sink as the man toppled and spun, landing splayed on the ground and unmoving. He closed his eyes from the sight. The first casualty. It would not be the last.
Daron heard Dax bark the order to fire, and a score of pistols coughing into the darkness, the flashes from the muzzles burning bright patterns onto Daron's retina. He blinked a few times, but was unable to clear the ghostly afterimage that followed his sight around. He heard the startled and anguished cries as attackers fell under the rain of bullets, splashing down into the wet grass below. A momentary surge of optimism coursed through him. The troops were not protected from gunfire. He said a quick thanks to the gods, and then glanced over the wall.
More ladders slammed into the wall out of the darkness. Daron sprinted over to one, sliding on the rain-slicked stone, grabbing the ladder to keep himself from spiraling down a dozen feet to the stone below. Grunting with effort, he shoved as hard as he could, but the ladder was already being ascended, and his feet found little purchase on the wet stone.
A head appeared above the wall a moment later. Daron fell back with a cry, nearly tumbling off of the edge, but rolled sideways instead. He landed on a shoulder and winced from the pain that blossomed there, coming up in a short squat and yanking his blade free of his hand.
The assailant cleared the wall as Daron leapt forward, his blade arcing wide for the throat. The man's own blade casually deflected it. Lightning flashed above, temporarily blinding him. He lashed out anyway, hoping to score a hit or keep the man off balance. He prayers were answered, and he felt his blade bite something soft. He gritted his teeth and rushed forward. As his vision cleared, he saw he'd caught the man in the shoulder. The attacker took a step back to clear himself from Daron's Oathblade, but his legs slammed into the wall edge, and he toppled over backwards with a shriek.
Daron paused, trying to catch his breath. He surveyed the defenses with a glance, and was pleased to see none of the attackers had yet breached the wall. The defense had cost them, however. A dozen bodies lay strewn about the ground near the wall, blank staring eyes gazing up into the rain.
Dax paced along the wall, back straight and carrying an air of authority about him. Orders were barked and carried out with a smoothness Daron envied.
Martin clambered up a ladder near him, carrying a long pole in one hand. It was as tall as Daron was, fixed with copper bands and a long point at one end. Clutching the pole close, Martin slammed his back against the wall and grinned at Daron in exuberance.
"How's your throwing arm?" the historian asked. Daron stared at him, uncomprehending. Martin hefted the javelin for emphasis. "If you toss this so it sticks point down in the ground, I think I can do a bit of damage to them."
Still unsure what the man was after, Daron nodded. He slid his sword into its sheath and hefted the pole, judging it's weight. It was significantly heavier than it appeared, mostly worked over with copper from point to butt. He glanced questioningly at the historian, who smiled energetically and gestured for him to get on with it.
Daron surged to his feet and drew back his arm, aiming for a wide arc. He prayed and called up a cantrip, and then snapped the javelin forward. It sailed out into the darkness, aided slightly by a telekinetic push. Every little bit counts, he thought. It flew upward, and then gently crested and fell, slamming down into the dirt maybe sixty feet away, point nearly straight up. Daron nodded to himself. A damn good throw, he thought. Though why I'm throwing sticks in a battle is beyond me.
"Good enough," Martin muttered, concentrating. "Apologies in advance, my friend." One hand snapped out to grab Daron's shoulder. The grip felt like ice, chill rolling down into his arm. No, he realized. It wasn't cold coming in, it was the warmth leaving his body.
Martin's eyes snapped open as he stood, gesturing towards the pole. He thrust his arm outward, palm up, and made a great sweeping motion upward. Lightning began to spark at the butt of the pole. A few of the oncoming attackers paused to consider the javelin, but as it hadn't hit anyone, it didn't seem to be much of a threat.
A thin arc of blue-white lightning jumped upward from the javelin in a flash, arcing upwards and sizzling through the rain as it rose. A heartbeat later the world flashed white, blinding him. Thunder boomed and rattled, the force of it sending Daron sprawling. Startled cries rose from the assembled defenders. He felt himself hit the walkway, and then a sense of vertigo as he rolled over the edge, sailing for a moment through the air. He landed heavily on his back, his head snapping down into the grass there. If his eyes already hadn't been blinded from Martin's work, he was sure he'd see stars.
It took a long while before he could move again, and longer still before his vision returned. It was still tinged with afterimages as he glanced about. He hadn't been the only one knocked down, discovering perhaps a dozen defenders groaning and slowly pushing themselves to their feet. Daron shook his head to clear it, and then painfully crawled his way up the ladder.
Martin was slumped half over the wall, arms dangling limp on the far side. Daron snatched him by the shirt and hauled him back, where he sprawled on the walkway. His breathing was steady, but the man was unconscious, his head lolled to one side. Wearily Daron peeked over the wall, and blinked at the sight.
The javelin was gone, and where it once stood was a scorched patch of grass well over a score of feet in diameter. Bodies lay strewn about in close proximity, steaming as the rain poured down. A few groaned and moved, but Daron counted perhaps fifty that appeared dead from his vantage point. The remainder were pulling back to the trees.
"By the gods," Dax whispered, rubbing at his eyes. "That was as good as an entire squad of sharpshooters."
Martin moaned and placed hands over his eyes. He blinked a few times, and fixed Daron with a pale, weak grin.
"It worked?"
"By the gods, man," Daron exclaimed. "What did you do?"
"Lightning always wants to take the path of least resistance to the ground."
Daron frowned in confusion, but helped the man to his feet. Martin whistled appreciatively at the carnage he'd caused. The troops at the wall were retreating back, he saw. They scattered back, leaving their dead behind with discarded ladders. A moment of exultation surged through the Justice a" they were pulling back! Could they have demoralized the group so thoroughly?
"You can call lightning, and then?" Daron asked.
"I can create lightning. That javelin was a great conductor for electricity, but the lightning couldn't see it. I somewhat helped it find its way, so to speak. I threw a bolt of lightning from the javelin up to the sky, and the waiting energy up their blasted down the closed circuit to the ground."
"Can you do that again? With some more casualties like that, we might completely rout them."
Martin shook his head and sagged. Daron stepped in to support the exhausted man, realizing for the first time since the battle just how tired he himself felt. They struggled down a ladder, where Brynn sprinted over and took Martin's arm about her, supporting his weight.
Leah called to him urgently from the walkway. Trying to keep his feelings of anger at her in check, he returned up the ladder to confront her. He paused before he reached her, squinting out through the rain.
Lumbering across the open plain from the forest was a hulking ramp. His heart sank, the hope he'd felt flickering out lick a candle in the rain. Crafted from lashed together logs, the thing must have been as heavy as a small building, but it moved forward none the less. Supported on the backs and in the arms of pallid figures, shambling slowly but methodically forward. Even from this distance, Daron could see that the figures carrying it were wounded and malformed, chunks of flesh rotted away or sharp bits of shattered bone piercing graying skin. The bodies that had been taken had somehow been animated through whatever disturbing magic Kerris had at his dispoal.
Dear Allene, he thought, revolted. What have they done to your children?
His stomach turned. This was an abomination, a defiant cry in the face of the gods, forcing bodies whose souls had journeyed to the Eternal Hall to walk again. It was revolting on a level beyond the putrid flesh struggling to carry the ramp. Beside him, Leah groaned in realization.
The ramp itself was over a dozen feet tall at the leading edge, angling down and back perhaps twenty feet, and wide enough for eight men to cross side by side. A second such ramp shambled forward a bit further back. Daron realized why they'd waited so long to attack. Construction of such devices couldn't have been quick.
The monstrosity lumbered forward, pulled and pushed by the risen corpses. Behind it the army had regrouped. Daron felt his heart sink. They hadn't withdrawn because they were afraid of what Martin had done. They had attacked to waste the city's resources, to keep focus and bullets away from the ramps, and then move in with the ramp when they'd exhausted themselves. He swore loudly.
Dax clambered up a ladder, blinking out at the behemoths crawling across the open field in disbelief. Daron saw his eyes try to register the bodies given a second life, and at the realization of what those ramps would do to their meager defense.
"Wodyr's hand," Dax swore, fingers gripping the stone edge of the wall. "What twisted power is this, that the dead walk again?"
"What do we do?" Leah asked. Dax shook his head.
"We find a way to stop that ramp," Dax whispered, "or we're doomed."
Chapter 22.
Daron slid down the ladder, nearly tumbling the full distance to the ground in haste. Martin lay in the wet grass beside the wall, his head propped up in Brynn's lap. She gently ran her fingers through his hair. Leah hopped down the ladder and squatted down beside them.
"How is he?" Daron asked.
"Exhausted," Brynn said. "None of us have gotten much sleep lately, and that last bit drained him of what little energy he had. I think he'll be fine with some rest, but I can't be sure."
"I need to wake him," Daron said delicately. Brynn's eyes flashed in the darkness, narrowing.
"He needs his rest," she snapped. "He's done his part."
"They're pushing ramps forward," Leah said, putting a hand on Brynn's shoulder. "On the backs of the corpses they'd stolen, reanimated."
"That's not possible."
"Tell them that. If those things get to the wall, we won't be able to stop them. If he could set fire to them or destroy them somehow, it buys us the time we need."
Brynn looked down at Martin's pale and tired face, brushing his hair away from his eyes. The rain pattered down on his face, and if Daron hadn't seen his chest move, he might wonder if the man was dead. He certainly looked pale as the corpses shambling across towards them.
Finally Brynn nodded, and gently nudged Martin. He didn't stir. She looked up helplessly. Knowing they had little time to spare, Daron knelt and slapped Martin full across the face. The man spluttered awake as Brynn frowned at him. That was fine. Everyone could call in accounts due once this was over. Until then, he did what he had to.
"Where am I?" Martin muttered, blinking slowly. He pressed one hand to his head and groaned. Daron saw that despite the darkness, his pupils were tiny dots, the whites bloodshot.
"They're bringing forward some ramps," Daron said gently. "Can you set fire to them, or unravel the ropes holding them together somehow."
Martin shook his head where it lay in Brynn's lap. "I couldn't light a candle right now. Working at such a distance, creating a circuit from the ground to the sky like that... It's a wonder I'm conscious at all. I think I need to rethink my stance on focus implements."
Daron swore. He thanked Martin and nodded to Brynn, and then rose to survey the situation If they couldn't stop the ramps, the army simply walk right into the city.
He climbed back to the walkway. The few defenders armed with pistols shot the reanimated abominations that carried the ramps with futility. Many stood and stared, watching in growing horror as walking dead methodically chewed up the distance between them. It was an unfathomable horror they were faced with. He saw more than a few drop and cower behind the stone crenelations, overwhelmed.
This is the sort of thing we're called to fight, Daron thought. He had no idea how to engage this battle, though. How did you fight with corpses and magic no one had ever heard of?
Daron glanced at the defenders. Their resolve was weakening. It wouldn't be long before some started to break and run, and their defense would crumble away to nothingness. Someone had to do something.
Please don't let me get shot doing your work, he prayed, and hefted his Oathblade. With a whisper, it burst into white flames, cutting a swath through the darkness and shining clear for everyone. Eyes slowly turned to regard him.
Well, he thought. Now what?
Dax spun and hefted his sword into the night.
"We do not fight alone," he cried, letting his voice carry. Eyes flicked away from the glowing sword to their commander.
"We fight with the gods themselves. Their hand, their will, their might. We stand, not on our own strength, but on theirs. We fight, not with our own determination, but theirs. Who can stand before us when the gods themselves stand with us?"
The assembled masses roared, though with much less vigor than Daron would have hope. He let his blade fall, but kept the light kindled. Leah gave him a firm nod. He wasn't really sure what he'd done, but if it kept the helplessness away, and then all the better. The defenders, renewed, turned and readied. Daron watched. It was hopeless, yet they stood.
A dozen rounds slammed into the walking corpses and blew thick ichorous globs out the other side, but they were unfazed by the onslaught. Daron shuddered. He'd seen dozens, shambling in the woods at the edge of his vision earlier. Perhaps hundreds. If those got into the city, they'd never be stopped.
Leah appeared beside him, staring out in silence. Her eyes watched the oncoming calamity, calculating.
"We'd almost had a chance," Daron said, slamming his fist down on to the stone of the wall. "If we can't stop those ramps, it'll be as if we'd left the gate open. Those unholy things will shred through our defenses."
"You're supposed to be the resourceful one," Leah said. "Outthink the problem."
"Aiden knows a cantrip to weaken steel," Daron said, thinking. "If he were here, he could probably tear that thing apart at the seams." He grimaced. "I never bothered to learn any of the advanced cantrips.
"Someone out there is controlling those things," he continued. "It stands to reason that whoever created them is holding their leash. Maybe if we stop him, their control will be severed."
"That's an awful large 'if'," Leah said, peering out into the darkness, trying to spy whoever might be leading that group. They'd still seen no sign of Jarod and Aiden, and there didn't appear to be a singular general leading the group at all. If Kerris was out there, he was well hidden.
"We don't much of a choice. Swarm up and try to destroy the ramps, or find the controller and end his connection to the creatures."
"And whoever is pulling their strings isn't likely with the main group," Leah mused. "Too much risk of accidentally getting shot."
Daron nodded. "So, somewhere not terribly far into the woods, maybe with line of sight to the group," he mused. "Seems the only option." They stared at each other for a moment, wordless. He knew he couldn't ask anyone else to throw their lives away, just as he knew Leah would be by his side without even asking.