As panic spread through the watchmen lining Konti’s city wall, the Sixth Army’s war drums held to their steady rhythm. Daniel watched the soldiers for a while. They moved as a unit, shifting in time with the instruments. While the angry mob inside the city had acted mindlessly, like an amorphous mass, the army was a huge, efficient predator whose heartbeat was that drum.
As for that predator’s head, Lord Arlan’s standard waved atop a small rise just behind the army’s right flank, near where the cavalry had stationed themselves. Runners made their way to and from the vantage point, carrying orders to the various subordinate officers leading individual units. An array of pennant flags would provide more instantaneous communication, if limited in complexity.
Four teams of soldiers carrying wood and rope had gathered near the main body of the army. With astonishing alacrity, they lashed these components together to form a series of platforms raised several feet above the ground. Each platform was then mounted by a single soldier.
“What are those?” Daniel asked, pointing.
“Mages,” Arnica replied, “the major talents among the army, at least.”
“They don’t look any different than the others,” Daniel said. When he’d imagined the imperial mages, he thought of old bearded men and hunched crones in sweeping robes, not unlike Eijah, the mage in Deirdre’s employ.
“Some prefer to blend in with the rest of the soldiers,” she replied, “especially in conflicts where both sides employ powerful sorcery.”
“Blend in? While standing on stages?” he asked.
“Those are a tactical gamble, one they likely wouldn’t take in every circumstance.”
He nodded at that.
The practiced speed with which the army fell into position reminded Daniel that despite the recent indiscretions in their dealings with the city, they were a professional martial body, one not to be trifled with.
In fact, they were nearly as intimidating as the foe approaching from the west.
Nearly.
Lumbering abominations—or instances of one abomination, as Arnica had suggested—continued to spill from the forest. He shuddered to think that each body represented there had once been a living thing, and that many had been human. Telann’s people, Taur’s people, Arnica’s people.
“Arlan intends to meet them head-on?” Daniel asked.
“It looks that way,” Arnica replied.
“Can he do it?”
She shrugged. “We couldn’t when we tried.”
“You can help them though, right?” Daniel glanced at the pouch she held, which she had once told him held bones from each of the necromancers who had died in Rhud’s fall. He remembered Taur’s explanation of her power and the price it demanded. “I mean—” he stumbled over his words, afraid to suggest what he feared would be necessary.
“Yes,” Arnica replied quietly, “I can help them. They will not forgive me for it, but I’ll do it all the same.” Her lips turned upward in a faint smile. “Our duty was always thus.”
It was the purest smile Daniel had ever seen from her. There was no mocking glint in her eyes, no malice, no aggression. There was a hint of sadness, but despite the circumstances, it was a genuine smile.
“What do you mean?” Daniel asked.
She didn’t answer.
On the field below, the terrible work of death commenced.
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A thunderclap echoed across the plain as the front rank of the army fired their muskets at the approaching creatures. There was carnage as flesh tore and entire limbs were ripped free by the force carried in the primitive rounds. Several of the smaller figures collapsed, and the larger behemoths shuddered from the damage as chunks of their bodies disappeared in a dark red spray. And yet, only a few of the fallen stayed down. Most climbed back to their feet—or to whatever assortment of limbs they used to move—and barely paused in their awkward advance toward the army.
The first rank dropped to their knees and began the lengthy process of reloading while a second rank stepped forward, overtaking the first and firing another volley. The result was much the same. A few more of the smaller creatures were incapacitated, but to Daniel’s growing dismay the effect was far weaker than he would have hoped.
There was no third rank of muskets. Only a small fraction of the army was kitted out with firearms, though even what they had was far greater than any other force in the empire, according to Arlan’s boasts.
The mages took their turn now. Daniel could see their arms held high from their platforms, causing the air to shimmer and warp above them like the space above an extremely hot surface. The disturbances above each mage joined together, then shot forward, cleaving a path through the enemy.
The staggering figures in the path of this sorcery burst into flame, as did the grasses beneath them. The fire burned hot and fast, turning the plant matter to ash near-instantly without igniting the rest of the plain. As for the many living bodies of the abomination, their skin blistered and charred under the magic. The smallest of the creatures withered as the heat sapped the moisture from their tissue.
And yet, those that survived continued forward unphased by the sorcerous onslaught.
About half a minute after the first volley, the creatures had nearly closed the gap between the forces. The first rank of musketeers finished reloading. At a barked order they stood from behind what had been the second rank. They fired over the shoulders of their comrades at close range, brutally tearing into the twisted flesh of the enemy. The second rank—still kneeling—finished their work and fired again with equally grisly results.
Their rounds spent, both ranks stepped back, neatly exchanging places with the infantry who took their position between the temporarily helpless gunmen and the enemy.
Coincident with the beat of the drums, a wall of bristling pikes was leveled across the killing field. A low roar of shouts and war cries filled the distance between them and their observers on the wall. The army of the abomination made no sound, even as they flung themselves onto the spears.
Daniel’s gut twisted. In his previous life, he’d been fortunate enough for death to seem like a sterile, distant thing. It happened in hospitals. Or if it didn’t, evidence of the accidents were always taken to equally clean and professional facilities where each loss of life could be properly considered and mourned. He knew about war, of course, but it was something that happened in other places, places far enough away from his home that some part of his brain tricked itself into thinking of it as a theoretical concept, occupying the same mental space as fiction and history.
This was real.
Facing the pikes, the disfigured creatures didn’t hesitate the way humans would have. They lunged forward, impaling themselves and struggling forward despite their wounds as if they couldn’t feel the pain. They wrenched at soldiers’ grips, freeing space for their fellows to follow behind them.
The creatures carried no weapons, but even from this distance, Daniel could see a monstrous strength in the way they fought. They mauled the line, their many limbs lashing out to smash, claw, or grasp whatever they could of the soldiers. Daniel saw a man fall to the ground, disemboweled. Another soldier’s forehead was caved in by a powerful overhead swing from an arm with at least two extra joints, curling over the back of the creature it belonged to like a scorpion’s tail.
He saw the small more humanoid monstrosities lunge at the fallen like piranhas, dragging them back and away from the army. They tore at the corpses and then clawed at themselves, opening their own skin. His jaw dropped as they began to press the soldiers’ flesh to their new wounds and saw them knit together, grafting themselves into more monstrous forms before joining the fray again.
Daniel tried to hide his retch from the people around him. He was supposed to be Telann, an experienced veteran of numerous conflicts with abominations like these. He had to keep up a brave face.
As a bittersweet benefit of the carnage before them, nobody was paying enough attention to notice his reaction. More than a few of the city watch appeared queasy themselves.
Arnica had told him before that this abomination twisted living flesh to its foul purposes. He'd accepted that explanation, but seeing this happen with his own eyes made his stomach churn. Some primal part of him wanted to run, to find somewhere to hide and curl up into a ball. This was wrong.
The gaps that had formed in the Sixth’s front line were soon filled from behind by skirmishers with shorter weapons, lashing out to fend off the monstrosities before they could wreak havoc on the pikemen’s exposed flanks.
These pockets of intense fighting became nodes around which the battlefield molded itself. Where the soldiers fared well, they tended to advance, and where they fared poorly, they were forced into retreat, half-step by half-step. This warped the formerly neat line that had divided the forces as chaos took the battlefield.
The Sixth’s officers asserted themselves, shouting orders to maintain the front. The sections that had advanced reluctantly fell back into step with the rest of the army, just in time for the behemoths to crash into them.
Pikes splintered under the sheer size and brutish strength of the creatures, and soldiers were crushed under their immense weight. The Sixth’s thin line of mortal men suddenly seemed entirely insufficient for the city’s defense.
“Arnica?” Daniel asked, voice cracking, “I’m sure they would appreciate—”
“—Not yet!” she replied, tense.
He decided to trust her timing. Daniel turned his eyes back to the battlefield and was elated to see the cavalry charging with all the majesty he’d come to expect from growing up on movies and television.
Unlike the army, the abomination creatures had no strict formations, and they were loosely strewn across the landscape as they advanced toward the fighting. To the heavy lances of the Sixth’s cavalry, that made them easy prey.
The armored horse warriors had swung around the Sixth’s right flank and cut deep into the enemy force. They turned about nearly as quickly as they had charged in, escaping the horde with their momentum intact before it could close in on them.
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One cavalryman’s armor stood out from the rest. It was the color of burnished bronze, catching the sunlight in just such a way as to appear like a man ablaze, signaling his position as clearly as if he’d been carrying a banner.
Daniel remembered what he’d learned about the Sixth Army’s composition. During their rebuilding in the capital, all of their officers had been exchanged except one. Their cavalry captain.
The man demonstrated that experience now. The cavalry regrouped and struck again in much the same way as before, biting deep and pulling back before they could become mired in the abomination’s equivalent of infantry. They avoided the behemoths, a few of whom futilely swung towards the faster animals with what looked like frustration.
“Captain Diallos,” the governor Deirdre said proudly, noticing Daniel’s attention.
“Diallos!” Daniel exclaimed. “That’s Arlan?”
“Not Arlan,” she corrected him, “An elder cousin of lower rank. If he had command of this army, well, I doubt we’d be in half the mess we are now.”
If this Captain Diallos’ common decency was half as developed as his apparent martial competence, Daniel couldn’t help but agree.
The cavalry struck a third time, and Daniel realized what they were trying to do. They were splitting the enemy, cutting down the chaff and luring several of the larger creatures away to isolate them.
“Yes!” Daniel caught himself exclaiming as the captain in fiery armor darted dangerously close to a huge five-legged beast, dodging one of its three arms and burying his lance deep into exposed flesh.
The giant lumbering creatures were taking the bait. Many of those which had not yet engaged the infantry—at least on the battle’s right side—were making their way toward the horsemen and their brightly armored leader.
To the South, on the other side of the battlefield, the Sixth was not faring quite so well. Without additional pressure from the cavalry, the gigantic monstrous beings had wreaked havoc on the infantry. The line buckled as the soldiers were pushed onto their heels.
The foe took full advantage of this momentum. In the course of just a few minutes, the Sixth’s left flank broke, bowing inward.
This not only let the abomination creatures flank the main body of the army but opened a direct corridor between them and the city. Several tall behemoths and a vanguard of smaller man-sized creatures took the opportunity, making a beeline for the city. Some of the larger creatures looked like haphazard towers built from living flesh. They walked on many thick legs, and their surfaces were covered in human arms. As they approached, Daniel realized they were nearly as tall as the walls themselves.
“They’re organic siege towers,” he whispered, horrified.
Panicked murmurs washed across the top of the wall.
“Boiling oil!” Deirdre shouted over the din. “Ready it!”
Daniel nudged the necromancer beside him. “Arnica?”
“Not yet,” she growled, gripping her pouch with a white-knuckled grip. She was so tense there was an almost imperceptible shake in her limbs. Every part of her was taut as a bowstring.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
“I hear them,” she said, not taking her eyes off the battlefield. “The dead, the dying. Their souls are so close… They cry out for justice, but there is no justice. Oh, don’t go yet, please. I can give you something else, but be patient. Just a few moments more, when your numbers have swelled…”
Her voice had dropped into a mutter as if she were no longer addressing him, and Daniel held a worried hand just above her shoulder, hesitant to complete the supportive gesture for fear of startling the mage.
The monsters drew ever closer and horns blared from the city’s towers. Watchmen hustled to prepare the siege defenses. The commotion whipped the angry mob behind them into a frenzy.
The soldiers guarding the gate, the “Mailed Fist” as Deirdre had described them, stood ready. A series of pennant flags were raised from the hill which still held Arlan’s command center. The signal must have been for them, as they leaped into action, jogging out to meet the foes heading toward the city. Among these, Daniel noticed a familiar broad-shouldered figure. Taur ran with them, wearing Sixth Army equipment with a red cloth tied around his shoulder. In one hand he held a shortsword and in the other a wicked dagger.
Daniel nearly cried out. Taur, ever kind Taur, must have gone to the army to do what he could to ease tensions and gather information, as Arnica had suggested earlier. It was all too easy for Daniel to imagine the hunter when this enemy had been spotted, deciding to lend his strength to their forces. Scared of the city, but willing to face a monstrous abomination that had already driven him out of his home once.
Daniel fought the bravely stupid urge to vault over the parapet and join his friend, held back only by the thought that he would only be a burden down there.
By now, the cavalry had divided itself. Half remained where they had been, engaging the largest of the behemoths. The rest—led by the brightly armored Captain Diallos—had come about to join the Mailed Fist.
Most of their lances had been lost or broken in the initial charges, and now bore heavy cavalry swords. Several had even exchanged these for lariat ropes, which they began to swing above their heads like cowboys.
The infantry stopped just before contact with the enemy, and Daniel realized several of them were outfitted with muskets. They fired at extremely close range, brutalizing the nearest of the enemies. These soldiers dropped and started reloading their weapons just a few armlengths from the enemy. Their fellow soldiers crossed that distance before the abominations could, engaging them in a fierce melee.
The swift horses overtook the monsters just as the Mailed Fist reached them, about fifty meters from the city wall. The sounds of the battle were even more horrifying now, as the noises of sickening thuds signalled the collision of metal and flesh.
Two lariat-wielding cavalrymen lassoed one of the walking towers with deft throws. They snagged it around the legs and abruptly turned their warhorses in opposite directions. The ropes snapped taut, tearing the creature at its joints and spraying copious volumes of blood across the dirt. The creature swayed and fell with a meaty crash, writhing in its attempts to rise.
Daniel lost sight of Taur in the chaos, but the soldiers seemed to be faring well. Farther off, on the main battlefield, the mages deployed sorcery to rend the ground by the flank they’d lost, causing the earth to heave and grow soft, becoming nearly impassable for the enemy. This bought them enough time to begin their recovery, deploying units to shore up their defence.
Daniel began to believe they were winning.
As the cavalry charged another of the walking towers, a tall, lithe figure stepped out of the monstrosity’s shadow. Its flesh was pale and moist, completely smooth even where skin stretched over a featureless face. Standing on the ground, its head was even with the mounted soldiers.
In one smooth motion, it snatched ae cavalrymen from his horse as they passed, examining him for the briefest of moments before flexing knifelike fingers and dissembling the man like a child would a toy.
This new being first removed the man’s head, tossing it aside before butchering what was left with cold dispassion. The creature carried the corpse's pieces in its arms and darted toward the fallen tower. It began to work, knitting its kill into the old flesh. Skin and muscle moved like water to accept the new material.
The creature rose to its feet in time to meet another cavalry charge. This time its hands flashed, and those sharp fingers shredded a horse’s shoulder. The beast fell with a scream, trapping its rider underneath it.
“That’s it!” Arnica said, voice rising in anger. “The heart of this abomination. Daniel, that is the body that was trapped in the ice, the original flesh!”
Daniel’s throat was dry.
The creature moved on, dispatching one horseman after another, pausing only to meld what remained of its victims to the other bodies around it.
The soldiers of the Mailed Fist was faring better, for now. They’d formed a tight knot, beating back the enemy and holding their ground.
“Taur is down there,” Daniel said to the necromancer beside him, “we have to help!”
“Yes,” Arnica muttered, “yes, I think it’s time.” She opened her pouch, gingerly removing a bleached white finger bone. She placed it between her lips the way a smoker would a cigarette.
Below, what was left of the cavalry had backed off, circling their new terrifying foe from a distance. All of the cavalry but one. As the tall, smooth-skinned abomination turned toward the infantry, Captain Diallos threw his lariat, landing it squarely around his target’s shoulders.
Before the rope could pull tight, the abomination’s fingers flashed, cutting it.
Captain Diallos dismounted, readying a long two-handed sword. The abomination turned to face him. Everyone on the wall waited with bated breath.
Arnica raised her arms, reaching out toward the battlefield. A keening wail tore itself from her lips as she clenched her jaw around the bone. It cut through the cacophony of the battle like a knife through butter. It was a terrible sound, a sound of grief, a sound of pain.
The tall creature stalked toward the cavalry officer.
Arnica’s cry grew louder, preternaturally loud. Daniel felt a penetrating chill. It was as if the heat of the noonday sun could no longer reach this place, where he stood at her side.
At very nearly the same time, the abomination and Captain Diallos launched themselves at each other. It was a thing of beauty, their battle. There was not a single wasted movement between them. They flowed like water, striking back and forth with lightning speed.
And yet, despite his dazzling skill, it was immediately clear the Captain was outmatched. The abomination showed no signs of slowing or tiring, but the cavalry officer soon began to flag. The soldier made no mistake—at least none that Daniel could notice—but the physical abilities of the abomination made the outcome inevitable. All it took was a single swipe, a graceful, almost daintily sharp finger drawing itself across Captain Diallos’ throat, opening the artery there.
The man’s lifeblood spilled onto the already red-soaked earth. Captain Diallos fell.
The abomination stooped down to gather up the man’s corpse, but was interrupted by a dagger, thrown with enough force to bury itself in the creature’s back.
It turned. Taur stood there, drawing another heavy knife from his belt. The hunter’s face was set in a mask of determined resignation.
Daniel’s eyes widened in horror.
Beside him, he heard a sharp crack. Arnica bit down, breaking the bone beneath her teeth.
Her mournful cry wavered then, resolving into a wordless melody of grief. The air around her grew colder still, and Daniel saw a silvery mist spiral out of the broken bone. It grew, taking on the transparent form of a person, a young man.
The abomination stopped, turning its smooth, featureless face toward the wall.
Arnica had closed her eyes, but the ghostly form she had summoned looked at her then, and it smiled.
Daniel realized that this young man must have been one of her comrades, another necromancer of Rhud. The ghost met Daniel’s gaze and winked. His face had a hint of pleasant mischief about it. It was the kind of face Daniel immediately knew he could have been fast friends with.
Arnica’s hands twisted in the air, and the spirit began to blaze with coruscating light. Waves of power washed over Daniel, driving him to his knees in pain as his soul rebelled against the presence of magic. It was worse than anything he’d ever felt, and it was rolling off that spirit in a veritable tsunami of sorcery as it was consumed—burned. Daniel half-staggered, half crawled away, putting as much distance as he could between him and Arnica.
When he was able, he stood, staring back at her. The ghost was fading quickly, diverted into Arnica’s sorcery. Through his pain, he could still feel her ritual spreading across the wall and the battlefield below.
Eventually the flow of power ceased, leaving no trace of the spirit behind. Arnica collapsed to the ground. Daniel rushed to her side, passing rows of shocked city watchmen. He supported her weight and helped her rise to her feet. She was breathing heavily and suppressing sobs.
The abomination below cocked its head. It took a graceful, threatening step toward the wall, but was interrupted by a sword bursting from its chest, rammed through from behind. Captain Diallos held the blade, blood still spilling from his neck and painting the front of his armor.
“What!” Daniel exclaimed. The arteries had been cut, that was not an injury anyone could survive.
The abomination stumbled, then tore itself off the blade and whirled on its attacker. Diallos had already danced backward, readying his sword to resume the fight, as if he’d never been killed in the first place.
Across the battlefield, more corpses began to rise, climbing to their feet despite impossible wounds. At first, most stared at each other in confusion, but one by one they took up the arms they’d dropped, ready to kill again.
“I barred them,” Arnica whispered through a ragged throat, leaning on Daniel. “I barred the doors of death, for just a moment.” She coughed, her whole body shuddering with the effort.
Daniel stared at her with a mixture of awe and fear. For days he’d travelled with this woman, knowing she called herself a necromancer. And yet, he’d never realized she was capable of this…
“You brought them back to life,” he said.
“No, I just gave them a chance at revenge before they depart.” She brushed him off then, struggling to bear her own weight. Daniel carefully let her go and she slumped heavily against the stone parapet.
Screams echoed across the top of the wall, interrupting their reverie.
Daniel wheeled around in shock. Despite the efforts of the Mailed Fist and the recently animated corpses of their casualties, one of the living towers had reached the city, just a short distance down the wall.
It pressed itself against the stone even as desperate watchmen poured boiling oil on it from above. The creature’s skin bubbled and peeled under the heat, but it was otherwise unaffected. A host of smaller creatures had gathered around the tower’s legs, and the dozens of arms grafted to the tower’s sides began to grab them, lifting them up along the tower’s length and onto the top of the wall.
The watchmen tried to beat them back but soon fell screaming as more and more monsters of twisted flesh vaulted over the battlements.
“Duke!” Deirdre cried, drawing her sword and buckler, standing ready despite her age.
Daniel glanced at the now weakened Arnica, then drew Telann’s sword, feeling again the comfortable weight in his hands. He cursed this bravery, whether it was his own or if it came from the duke’s memories, courtesy of the goddess of Veil.
A grim determination settled over him as he stalked toward the incursion that had found purchase on the wall. He had done enough waiting for today. He’d watched enough people die. He couldn't take it anymore. He would make his will known.