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Agnessa didn’t particularly like knights.
After all, those tin-plated fools usually didn’t understand the specifics of borderland warfare. And the endless skirmishes with all sorts of creatures weren’t considered real wars by them. Just the small troubles of life. The temple knights had nothing better to do, so they entertained themselves. But the "real guys" were different. Clad in armor, riding well-fed knightly horses, with their retinues in tow. They'd ride out to the field, poke at each other with lances, and in the end, decide who won this time over a barrel of wine.
That the undead didn’t care one bit for all these rules and conventions was something no one had bothered to explain to these walking cans. So, they were often eaten at every opportunity. Along with the covering squads, if some visiting noble managed to wrangle one from the local authorities by waving his credentials.
No, there were decent people too. The new ones. That’s even what they were called. The ‘Alts’ were the old knights. For those in the know, they were complete idiots best avoided. Then there were the ‘Discretes’ — the knowledgeable or young ones. They earned their golden spurs and gained land in recently reclaimed territories through their boundless bravery and the skill to stick their head in a vampire’s mouth and pull it back out unharmed. Preferably along with a few other daredevils.
Both knightly formations hated each other fiercely and, when possible, avoided sharing a table. The first group stayed in peaceful districts, feasting, drinking, hunting, and organizing tournaments. The second went on assaults against monsters, crushed the undead in every corner, and wore a small gold cross embroidered on the left of their chest — a sign of their belonging to the Brotherhood. Anyone who dared to claim that symbol without permission was strangled with a crossbow string, and their head was displayed on a pike as a warning to others.
It was to one of the Discretes that Agnessa was now traveling on business. The Plague Sisters fully supported those who protected ordinary people from the Darkness, whether in the west or the east. And if Bruno Donner had requested support, it meant the raid would be very interesting. Bloody, deadly dangerous, and difficult. Just the way the Plague Midwife liked it.
The knight’s castle by the river looked more like a prison than the residence of a wealthy lord.
No decorations, no stucco, no intricate towers. Just granite, grim high walls, and culverin barrels between the battlements. Lord Donner had a great fondness and respect for firearms. He had learned how effective they were when defending a small squad against an incoming Tide. That’s when a chunk of plowed field collapses into a giant fissure nearby, and out of the hole come countless hordes of the undead. Small, vicious creatures, maddened by sunlight.
Such unpleasant events usually occurred after some young sorcerer played with Darkness and overestimated his own power. Poof — one less bastard in the world, but as he burned up in the pentagram, the scoundrel tore a passage to the Reverse Side, from which all kinds of monstrous filth would pour out. The hole would seal up in a few hours, but that was more than enough time for a new Dark spot to appear on the map. Nearby monasteries had to gather people, pull artifacts from storage, and send out cleansing teams to reduce the number of creatures to a relatively acceptable level.
The worst-case scenario was if this happened near a large populated area. In that case, the rescuers often turned into funeral crews. Only a few well-prepared mercenary squads or border knights could hold their ground against a horde of crazed undead. And these knights often bought time for the Plague Sisters and rangers with their own lives.
It was after one such eventful day that Lord Donner developed his love for firearms. Cannon grapeshot at close range proved to be an excellent argument in a heated conversation. Something growls at you? You answer back with a ‘unicorn’ — BOOM. Something is snapping its teeth behind the fence? Toss a bomb or two, and their guts get scattered across the trees. It works great in skilled hands. And Bruno didn’t take any amateurs into his team. He wasn’t interested in clanking his armor in tournaments or throwing bones into an empty jug at a feast. The knight had far more intriguing business to attend to.
***
“You’re all going to die there!”
That was the parting shot from the troublemaker after the meeting. Because the meeting was essentially about nothing less than a heroic death for the sake of what was left of the civilian population. How else could you call it?
“Options?” the lord of the castle asked grimly, studying a map littered with black markings.
The options weren’t encouraging. A few lunatics from the deranged cultists had decided to stage a new apocalypse. As if the first one hadn’t worked well enough, and not everyone had died. So, they had carried out a few sacrifices and perished at the very moment they were howling their final chants. The rangers shot the bastards down with crossbows, destroyed the drawn pentagrams, and even threw lime from barrels over the pools of blood. So, instead of one huge breach into the Reverse Side, they managed to make it a bit smaller. But even a weakened surge of the undead would be more than enough to wipe out the entire area. Around three hundred monsters of all shapes and sizes could easily wreak havoc. And reinforcements from neighboring forces weren’t promised for another week. The cultists had had their fun along the way in various quiet corners, and may they choke in hell for it.
“So, all this filth will crawl out tomorrow morning. Is that right?” Agnessa started clarifying the situation. For her, there was no question of fleeing or staying. She wanted to survive along with her old acquaintances. And to do that, they needed to discuss the details.
“Yes. The summoning ritual was disrupted, so instead of at midnight, they’ll come out at noon. That means most of the smaller ones won’t come at us. Plus, all of them will be weaker at first,” confirmed Bruno, the two-meter-tall giant in battle-worn armor, who looked more like an iron golem than a man. Especially when he put on his helmet.
“And there’s no point surrounding the breach — we’d have to gather every armed fighter from the area. And the monsters will just hit any spot with fewer people.”
“Exactly.”
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“So, we need to lure them, make them chase us to a place where we can meet them…”
“The Sisters created an amulet to lead the undead?” the knight asked in surprise. But Agnessa sighed and disappointed him:
“If only... But a friend of mine suggested how we could bait the monsters using live bait. The main thing is, we’ll need a road — going over bumps in a Panzerkraftwagen won’t work well… And it’d be best to place barrels of gunpowder along the way and scatter some gravel. So that we can ignite it and blow up the crowd right behind me.”
Pointing to the map, the Plague Midwife traced a line from the breach to the river where the castle was located.
“Wait, did you say ‘behind me’? Are you personally planning to lead this whole horde?”
“Let’s just say I want to make an impression on them. Because when these creatures see prey in front of them, they chase after it, hoping for a quick lunch or dinner. The key is not to move too fast, so they don’t lose track of you.”
“And if they catch up?”
“Then, Bruno, you’ll hold a splendid funeral for me. With a church choir and a grand feast afterward... But first, let’s get to business. Because I’m really going to try to drag this whole horde closer to you. And we need to figure out how exactly we’ll gut them here so they don’t scatter.”
***
The plan worked.
At noon, when a black haze swirled over the snow-covered mounds, an armored vehicle roared down the road. On the left side, a flamethrower generously doused the snarling faces, while on the right, Agnessa was tossing bombs to the delight of the fanged creatures. Behind, metal "claws" on chains clanged as they dragged along a few captured beasts. The entire cavalcade tore through the roaring crowd, and then explosions thundered around the breach — barrels of gunpowder loaded with gravel shredded the undead all around. There was only one exit from the fiery trap, and charging through it was the maniacal ripper, screaming with delight. Echoing her were the unlucky creatures snagged by the spiked hooks, perhaps enjoying the free ride.
Out of the five hundred monsters, about a hundred were torn to pieces by the explosions. The rest took a deep breath, muttered their thoughts on the unfriendly reception, and picked up speed, chasing after the tasty morsel ahead of them. Maybe one or two of the smarter beasts didn’t want to stick their heads into a potential trap. But when the horde growled, “Eat that bastard!” there was nothing left to do but move your legs fast enough not to get trampled.
“How are things going?” Bruno asked, peering through a spyglass at the cloud of dust on the horizon.
“The Midwife is still in the lead, though they're hot on her heels.”
“And what about the undead?”
“Flag bearers on the left and right reported that the monsters are following her.”
“Excellent... Prepare for action.”
“Yes, my lord.”
On the flat, straight road, the ‘wrath of God’ was pushing to the max. Having confirmed she’d successfully become bait, Agnessa dropped the chains with the hooks and now sped ahead, pushing the engine to its limits. The sight of the snarling mouths in the rearview mirror was terrifying. This wasn’t about catching vampires in cellars. This was a force capable of rolling like a bloody steamroller from border to border. There hadn’t been a breach like this in a long time. Her only hope was that Bruno knew what to do.
Bruno did know. So, as soon as the armored vehicle sped past the first markers, the culverins fired shrapnel rounds at an angle. Again and again. Fortunately, the road passed between a low series of hills with carefully placed barricades. The hail of lead cut down the creatures non-stop. But the core of the pursuing horde kept chasing the brazen Plague Midwife, not slowing down. It seemed that the only thought in their minds was: catch and kill! Revenge for everything good. And then they’d deal with the rest of the pathetic humans.
Racing across the lowered bridge, Agnessa sent her beloved self-propelled cart into a controlled skid, slowing down from the high speed. Behind her, the portcullis slammed down, and the massive gates creaked shut. The guards were feverishly closing the passage, but they didn’t have time to raise the bridge — the fastest monsters were already charging across, filling the air with angry roars. Wasting no time, Agnessa grabbed her "Thunderer" with spare loaded drums and sprinted up to the fortress walls, leaping two steps at a time. She made it just in time for the fun. One shot — and the first creature, its head blown to pieces, tumbled down before it could grab a dawdling soldier.
“Take down these freaks!” the Plague Midwife shouted, racking the lever. Adrenaline was practically pouring out of her — and this was only the beginning. How many did they cut down along the road? Half? Well, two hundred of these monsters were more than enough to deal with. So, she blasted another one and took up a strategic position where she could cover the corner of the parapet. Hold the left side — great. On the right, she could see Bruno and his guards swinging axes. The others were trying to hold the center. The key was to break the initial charge, give the gunners time to reload. Then we’ll see how things turn out...
***
The wall was battered three times — the enraged undead surged forward, disregarding their losses. The stones were soaked in blood, and chopped-up bodies and rotting flesh lay scattered around. But five minutes passed, then ten — and the people didn’t start to flee. They fought, they died — but they didn’t retreat. Those same gunners, along with a company of hired musketeers, deftly fired into the rear, finishing off the slowest of the creatures. They spent another two hours finishing off the wounded, methodically checking every corpse. Only when the sun touched the edge of the forest could they finally catch their breath and hoarsely announce:
“We held them off, damn... How did it come to this...”
Agnessa arrived at the armored craft-wagon closer to midnight. She helped the medics tend to the wounded, delivering water, bandaging rags, and bundles of healing amulets. There were many injured, despite the good armor and training. But if the monsters had stumbled upon a caravan of militiamen, there would have been no survivors. After a claw strike, a whole human body either fell apart or was sent flying away like a crumpled dead doll.
Once seated, the dirty and tired woman leaned against the iron door and grimaced; her legs felt weak, and there was an unpleasant pain in her side. A couple of times, she had almost been caught, but the chainmail hidden under her gown saved her from injury. Although her unfortunate ribs would need some healing.
With a clatter of crumpled armor, the lord of the fortress approached. Looking surprised at her askew helmet, Bruno took the offered flask of wine and took a big swig.
“Holy Mother of God. I thought we were done for today...”
“Yeah, it was fun... But we’ll have to deal with those idiots from the cult. Gather them up and feed them to some big ugly beast so they stop causing trouble.”
“I agree... When will you start gutting them? We’ll begin burning the remains tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll get to it in the morning. Nothing will happen to them overnight. I’ll gather some teeth and claws too. Merchants love to sell necklaces made from them to wealthy idiots from the Alt.”
“But that’s for tomorrow.”
Returning the flask, the knight tucked his helmet under his arm and thanked her.
“Thank you for coming. You were a great bait, and you held the left flank well... Let’s go; the guys warmed up a few barrels of water, so you can wash up. We’ll have a bite to eat, whatever the Lord provides.”
After thinking for a moment, Agnessa agreed. No, she could collapse into bed as she was, covered in someone else’s guts and smelly sticky grime. But hot water, a piece of roasted meat, and then a good sleep on a soft mattress — what more could one want after a hard day’s work?
“Listen, milord. Try to take a break before the next invitation. I’ll need to catch my breath a little. You have such kind entertainments. After them, I’ll need to stock up on ammunition and sharpen iron for a couple of months.”
“I’ll do that. But don’t forget — when you decide to go smash some heretics, call me. I have a few words I want to say to them as well. I’ve got a lot to say.”
With a grunt, the Plague Midwife stood up, painfully straightened her back, and promised,
“I’ll definitely let you know. We’ll invite all of the Borderland to finish off those fools once and for all. Just when we managed to catch our breath from the Plague, those empty-headed idiots came rushing in. They just can’t help themselves, the bastards... Okay, I think I’m standing and not falling. Where’s that promised bath with hot water? The lady is ready for her spa treatment...”
***
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