Uno
Loud sounds echoed through the battlefield.
THUD!
CLANG!
THUD!
CLANG!
The undead ignored the incoming danger, but the living reacted with instinctual fear.
The echo was loud and meaty, yet the earth trembled on a more spiritual than physical level. Something powerful was coming, something monstrous and full of malice.
The first figures who marched over the nearby hill were a disappointment. Their forms were clad in mismatched iron armor covering every part of their body - this included chestplates, helmets, shins, pauldrons, and so on, yet not one of those appearing exuded the feeling of power. All of their armor pieces were rusted and scrappy, most still bearing battle marks with holes and scratches over the heart or head, clearly showing that the ownership change wasn’t peaceful. From under these metal defenses, a keen observer could notice pieces of rotten skin sticking out, identifying the newly appeared soldiers as zombies.
Despite being monsters I deliberately described them as soldiers. Unlike most of their kin, these were quite agile - much different from the overall sluggishness and clumsiness shown in their base species. In addition, they moved with a sense of purpose, keeping ranks and formation. Most of them carried large two-handed maces, with some sporting a shield and club pair. The shielders were standing at the front, ready to defend their companions from any harm.
“Why maces, though?” I mumbled quietly. It was weird.
Charles shrugged. “Maybe they can’t gather enough spears or swords. Or maybe the undead are too stupid to use something better. Or the maces are just the right weapon to bash down their opposition.”
“Does it matter?”
“True… it doesn’t matter. They have maces as weapons. That’s a fact. We need to roll with it.”
I returned to staring.
The only other noticeable thing about the undead soldiers was their vacant stares. They looked quite creepy even to me and I was used to Lebirs and their stupid mugs. I was glad most of Charles’ soldiers couldn’t make them out. Morale was a thing for the living, after all.
I couldn’t stop myself and compared these troops to the Lebirs under my command. Even if my monsters were classified as abominations their power level and reactions were similar to those of the undead. Tomato, tom-ah-to situation. And while Lebirs lost in the armor department they were much more agile and had better reaction time than these zombies.
Like their enemy, they also could work in groups, at least while under a Lebir Captain's leadership so this quality was a draw. On the other hand, my electric maces were an anti-living weapon and fared poorly against the enemy who couldn’t feel pain. The zombies had heavy blunt armaments at their disposal, which were a perfect choice against most of the undead. This could be quickly remedied, as scraping enough materials for a mace or a club was easy. Doing that hundreds of times though? Not so easy anymore.
Still, with a larger force, Lebirs should come ahead, since they were as fearless as their counterparts. Without any other variables, it was just a numbers game.
Sadly my thoughts had been cut short, as from behind the armored zombies a large, monstrous undead appeared, clad in a higher-quality armor. Despite the helmet hiding its face I recognized their leader immediately. The slab of metal it used as a sword was a unique weapon, after all.
Well, unique on Yana. Guts, Cloud Strife and Monster Hunters would beg to differ.
Anyway, Henrik Waltzer, or rather his husk, was already making its presence known. The arm it had lost had been exchanged with some other bones or supplanted by a metal prosthesis. It was hard to tell from far away.
Either way, the monstrous lieutenant was ready to fight, even while continuing its silent treatment. It was a welcome respite from Lich’s endless yapping.
Its empty eyes surveyed the battlefield, drinking up the carnage below. After a few seconds, it had lifted the greatsword from its shoulder and pointed it ahead.
The zombies roared like a beast let from its leash.
The first ranks started to run, the gravity helping the heavyweight undead gain speed. Soon second, third, and fourth ranks moved, and as they did their ungodly noise suddenly overwhelmed the battlefield.
I stopped staring and turned back to Charles. “I think it’s time to show some of our trump cards… Unless you want your troops to eat that charge!”
He scoffed. “Normally I would say ‘let them come’, but we don’t have endless troops Geinard Kingdom boasts… even if you do.” He added with a whisper. Despite his words, the red-headed mage was starting to grin. I wasn’t sure if it was a conscious reaction or something deeper, like his fiery mana coming to the surface. “Sergeant!” He shouted and a muscular figure appeared at his call.
“Yes-sir!”
“Tell Ogrekin to start firing. And… let them use the explosives.” He added with distaste.
I laughed in response. “Why the long face? We use what we can, right?”
“Oh shaddap, you monster. I don’t have to like it… Just… focus on the fight. Let’s see how efficient your charges are.”
My puppet nodded, faking attentiveness, while most of my consciousness drifted toward the Ogrekin. I didn’t want to miss the show. The decision to replant Evil Eyes on the surface had been paying dividends.
The few Ogrekin that I had managed to create (yeah, sure mostly through the hands of my Ratlings) stood or sat near a small encampment, picking their noses and grunting inane jokes at each other.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
All around them, an “honor guard” of a few human soldiers and many older women stood at the ready, trying their best to look calm and collected. Some of those were family to the turned men, their wives, mothers, and sometimes sisters. In one case a young daughter took care of her changed father. I could nearly hear their souls thrumming with anticipation and fear. There was also some anger at their role, at the world… but that was beside the point.
We all did what we needed to survive, and these people were no strangers to this truth.
The runner arrived in seconds, screaming his lungs out about the duty and orders.
The ladies assigned to the big boys started smacking their subordinates' legs - it was a pretty funny sight, especially comparing their sizes. They were herding them toward the firing line. Or should I say the artillery nest? Anyway, the place was fortified and filled with enlarged spear throwers, similar to the weapons that the Ratlings were using.
Nowadays my rats focused on more esoteric subjects like mech piloting and warpstone experiments, leaving that simple weapon grafted into their backs unused, even if they were naturally proficient in shooting.
And now the wheel of life had turned and it was time for my new creations to taste the power of atlatl! Yep, I remembered what it was called. Spear thrower was such a drab name.
“Prepare the weapons! Take off the safeties!” The guards shouted, their hands already busy fiddling with large ropes. Despite being more like child-safety locks these were enough to stop the big dum-dums from destroying or hurting themselves with the atlatls.
“We shoot?” A brighter Ogrekin mumbled, only for the rest to pick it up.
“Shoot! I like shoot!”
“Sho-ot!”
“Sho-ot!”
“Sho-ot!”
“Boom! I want boom” Another added.
“Yes! Boom! I can boom, nice lady?”
“Boom!”
“Boom!”
“Pretty boom!”
“Red boom!”
“Yes, this time you can boom!” Ogrekin’s caretaker answered with a crooked smile. “Just remember to keep to the rules!”
“Uhhhhh… rules. Remember da’ rules.”
“Oh, c’mon, you recited them just yesterday!” One of the soldiers shouted to the heavens, clearly fed up. The large demihumans quietened down.
“Me not remember.” The Ogrekin leader spoke softly. “Sorry, smart mister.”
An avalanche of “me sorry” followed.
“Haaaah” he sighed. “Just… try to remember it this time.” The irritated soldier started sweating, as the gazes of gathered matrons drilled a hole in his back. “First, check if you won’t hurt anyone with throwing. Second, put the boomie on the spear shaft. Third, put the spear on the thrower. Four, throw where nice ladies tell you.”
“Ooooooh!”
“Smart!”
“We ‘member!”
“Good, now do as you were told.” All of the Ogrekin present nodded their heads enthusiastically, before lifting a spear each. They turned around, noticing the boomies coming closer. Or just small-sized Lebir Exploders I made just for this task.
They were dwarf-sized, with a complimentary electric mace and a bit lesser yield than their bigger cousins. Still, despite the lack of expression, I couldn’t shake the feeling that they were glad to be useful, burning with a fiery desire to destroy our enemies.
Which was preposterous. They didn’t have enough brain capacity to desire anything!
Well, I’m ignoring that feeling. Must’ve been the wind.
Ogrekin dutifully loaded their temporary companions onto the spears and delicately moved the resulting combination to the atlatls. Then the weapons were lifted onto their shoulders, ready to fire. The women standing nearby tugged on the shooters' clothes, pointing them in the direction of the metal mob.
Then there was a THUNK and the spears were in the air, my creatures tightly clinging to the shafts. A second passed and some of the zombies were pinned to the ground, forcing those behind them to either fall or desperately avoid the newly appeared obstacle.
It was funny, if not very effective.
At least until explosions happened.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The mass of the dead exploded, sending flesh, bone, and metal hurling into the undead ranks.
The zombies didn’t stop running, but my Ogrekin didn’t stop throwing.
It was clear who would come out on top of this challenge.
The husk leading the iron zombies noticed it too. I wasn’t sure if it was a result of training or maybe just remains of the original Waltzer’s personality. No matter the reason the monster in charge of the Lich’s forces started to run down the hill.
I glared at our opponent. Various thoughts swirled in my head.
Should I send Guardian? Maybe another minion would be enough? But… the scouts of various powers were still watching. I didn’t want to show something out of the realm of the ordinary and then get hunted down by their superiors.
Thankfully a decision had been made for me. A blonde girl armed with a sword started running toward the enemy. Just like my Puppets before, she used shields and heads to parkour, if somewhat gentler than my creations. Of course, that was because she was vaulting over allies.
“Agneeeeees!” Charles's head snapped to the amazon, as he screamed his lungs out. “What are you doing?! Get back here!”
She sent a kiss his way before shouting back. “I’m fine now! There’s nothing like a battle to show everyone that my body has fully recovered!”
A moment later she reached the frontline, cutting a path through the undead troops. The red-headed mage turned toward my puppet, his eyes full of worry.
“Uno, please.”
I shrugged. “Fine. FINE!” I hissed. “You owe me for this!”
[Guardian, get out there, take the kobolds. You need to protect the Princess. Don’t disappoint me.]
[Yes Lord, your wish is my command.] The armored undead answered immediately, his tone full of happiness.
“With me!” He shouted, emerging from the dungeon’s entrance. Trailing behind him were kobolds in the mech suits - bulky, armored, and thumping around from left to right. They quickly stood in an arrow formation, with Guardian at the tip.
Then, as if with an unheard command they started marching.
The noise repeated itself.
THUD!
CLANG!
THUD!
CLANG!
But this time it was not the enemy but our allies that were marching.
Yet they were too far in the back, not to mention moving slowly. Hissing again I sent an order to the Puppets. They were to detach and flank the unruly Princess. Their lives were used to pay for time.
“You really owe me for it, Charles!”
“I know!”
I felt a jolt, then another. “What now?” Something was killing the Puppets. I glanced through their eyes, only to notice a fiery sword decapitating my current vessel. “Shit! Charles, your brothers are coming knocking!”
“Master Vincent, please contain them!”
“Sure. It would be a shame to lose this place.” The helmeted grandpa was full of energy, flanked by his strongest acolytes. “But I might not be enough.”
“I’ll have somebody helping you shortly.” I answered, not even looking at the old mage. “Just hold on.” Internally I screamed at my crafter rats. [I just need one mask! How hard is it to make something like that!]
I knew that no plan survived the contact with the enemy, and yada, yada, yada… but this battle was turning into a clusterfuck of epic proportions.