[69]

The five of us traveled up the rocky slope with our weapons drawn. We kept a fast pace, knowing that the deeper into the mountain the warlock went, the worse it would be for us.

Hard rocks the size of tree stumps sat between elephant sized boulders, impeding our path up the cold, bare earth. Fear gripped my heart, as it felt like an ambush was around every obscuring stone.

More than that, the prowess of the warlock impressed me. Whatever they had been before, their corruption had to have given an incredible amount of agility. Their ascent up the path put ours to shame. It was a foreboding sign for our goals; we knew that if they entered the deep tunnels of the Blacknails there would be nothing we could do.

Ashmere and Ergentein had let the rot fester for centuries, knowing that the cost of removing it would be too high. Deep in the earth was the corpse of the titan itself, as well as the transformed bodies of two empires of peoples. Until now, most of the older undead were willing to stay near the festering might of their patron. For the nations of men to end the threat permanently, they would have to fight in those cramped tunnels against an unforgiving and overwhelming foe that could attack from any direction. Worse, even if we secured the tunnels from the undead threat, no one knew if the titan itself was killable. After all, if Koth, the god of war, could not do it, then who could?

And here we were, heading toward those very same tunnels ourselves.

Before us was the open mouth of an enormous cave. Within the unforgiving darkness of the entrance, I saw the warlock watching us, waiting to see if we would be bold enough to follow.

“He’s there,” I said to the others, breathing out a puff of condensation into the cold air.

“He?” Joy asked.

I nodded. The man was distant, but I could see his features more clearly than before. He was an old man, probably near his middle or late sixties, but did not bear the hallmarks of that advanced age. His posture was ramrod straight, more in line with what you might expect from a knight or influential magister. That was where his resemblance to a person ended.

Black cracked veins leaked a pus like fluid out of holes across his egg white skin. Bloodshot red eyes stared at us, watching yet also not seeing us at all. He had the look of a man that had seen too much war and violence, usually called “battle fatigue” by the regulars. Despite his disgusting appearance, his blackened mouth bore a tight-lipped frown, like we had disappointed him. In his hands was a long-worn longbow.

“An old man,” I said to the others. “He has a bow.”

As if to support my assessment, the infected bastard drew out an arrow and sent it flying at us in a smooth motion.

“Incoming!” I yelled, but I need not have bothered.

Raxx flicked his hand, sending the arrow scraping against the nearby rocks. The Harak was mid-laugh when ghouls burst out of the surrounding ground.

“Form up!” a soldier shouted, moving with his companion to cover our flanks. They were already close to the position, so it was more of a matter of getting into a proper stance.

Missing both Gene and Izzy left me as the replacement front-liner. With my new armor and skill with my weapon, it was doubtful that the undead would pose much of a threat.

Rocks spilled down the slope, making the ground difficult to receive the undead charge. However, because of our practice on wilderness traversal under Cen-Boleman, keeping our feet grounded was easy. We had trained for exactly this scenario under the unforgiving eye of the Stoneblood sadist.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

My poleaxe flashed out in an astoundingly natural motion. The blade tore through the heads of two ghouls in a lateral swing so clean; it felt like I had been doing it all my life. They did not give me a moment to spare for self-gratification.

After that initial rush, a dozen or more of the creatures came crashing into me. What followed was a mad scramble of me, punching, jabbing, and re-summoning my weapon to attack from distant angles.

Twice an arrow bounced off armor. One hit a pauldron, and the other skittering against my neck. The second was almost forceful enough to penetrate my protection, and I nearly shit myself. There was no telling what that deranged man had coated the missiles with. Thankfully, with me out front in invisible armor and not exhibiting wind magic, he made me the priority target.

“He’s sniping at us!” I screamed, head-butting a ghoul in a black spray of fluid. I was happier than ever with my choice. The magical armor did not just keep me from being eviscerated, it also kept the disease invested blood from contaminating my face.

“I need a boost!” Joy yelled at Raxx.

I knew what she meant but did not have the luxury of watching. With Raxx’s ability to influence the wind, he and Joy had practiced a maneuver that increased the power and range of her arrows.

To help bring her strategy to life, I yelled over my shoulder at the two men behind us. “Give Raxx some room!”

They took off to push back the ghouls near him with their shields. Ignoring them for the moment, I slammed into zombies that had taken the place of the ghouls. In the fighting's chaos, I had not realized that there were zombies approaching. With my blood up, I stupidly began marching toward our new foes, but a mental message from Ugz brought me up short.

Stink! Ugz warned me.

We had expected him to release more Acidfog and had prepared a plan accordingly. Whether it would be enough was another story.

“FWUMP!” Joy’s magically empowered arrow shot up the hill before briefly disappearing against the backdrop of the cave. My high Perception could barely track the projectile, but I saw where it landed.

An inhuman screeching sound erupted from the old lunatic, right after Joy’s arrow sunk into the meaty thigh of his right leg. Not only was I impressed with the unexpected accuracy of the shot, but the warlock’s reaction also caught me off guard. He turned and hobbled away from us into the depths of the mountain. One wound sent him running.

“Got you, you piece of shit!” Joy snarled.

“Acidfog! Run!” I screamed, picking the wildling up and tossing her over my shoulder.

My companions and I flew back down the way we came, as a group of nearly two dozen alchemical weaponized zombies chased us.

A big rock blocked our way, and as I turned to scramble around to the side of it, I felt Joy kick off my chest. Using her Momentum ability, the jump sent her flying to the top of the boulder. Her feet slid across the top of the surface, but she kept her position by digging her talons into the hard stone.

From below, I could hear Joy screaming in pain and rage as several of her nails snapped off.

“Take cover!” Joy yelled, and we listened without hesitation, diving painfully behind her perch.

Raxx was up first, peering around the corner to assist her with his wind blades. I could not see her standing above us, only the twang of her bow letting us know she was present.

“I got bit,” one trooper said. I looked at his blackened arm, which he held up for us to see. Many men would blanch at having to admit such an awful truth, but this trooper did his country well. My reward was much worse than what he deserved.

Before anyone could give cause for doubt, I stood up and cut off his extended arm in a powerful motion. His horrified screams lodged themself directly into my psyche, and I knew they would always be with me.

“Hold him down!” Joy yelled at the unwounded trooper.

When had she gotten here? I thought.

Looking back, I could see an enormous black fog blooming upward, looking like the breath of the abyss, come to steal our souls.

Raxx strode toward the center of us, chanting out a spell to safeguard us from the ill winds descending on our location. Joy poured a green liquid down the mouth of the new amputee while his friend sat on his chest. For my part, I sealed the air out of my suit, muffling the horrid sounds of the screaming soldier so I could work on giving him a tourniquet. My training on this technique was limited and not practiced nearly enough for me to do the poor man service. Still, I persisted as best as I could, using my belt and a nearby rock that I hoped would do the trick. It was far from perfect, but I hoped it would be enough to save his life. The reality was Joy’s potion would decide his fate.

Against my expectations, I could feel the cool wind summoned by Raxx as it created an air bubble around us. Not but a moment later, the black fog lazily cascaded around his shield, almost like it was prodding it for weakness.

“Is your spell supposed to be this cold?” I asked Raxx, after my teeth started chattering.

“That isn’t my spell!” Raxx said, with a solemn look on his face.

“Then what—?” I started.

Piercing red eyes broke through the fog, striding toward us. As the eyes came closer, I could feel an almost existential dread building within my stomach.

“To the Hells!” I said, recognizing the threat for what it was.

The Doom Champion had arrived.