The thousand men army marched across the white landscape, scarring the surface with their heavy footsteps and scaring the wildlife with their clunky weapons. The minority of them who had horses guarded the giant sleds with crucial supplies.
Having left most of his troops at Rie, prince Eric took a regiment to march north. Unfortunately, snow began falling sooner than anticipated, which halved their speed, making them arrive two weeks later than planned. Additionally, due to heavy snowfall, the northern roads were completely hidden or ruined, and they had to find the right guide, which took a few more days.
The prince’s personal accountant, who incidentally was also a knight, grumbled under his visor at the thought of all the expenditure.
“How far are we?” The prince inquired.
“At this pace we’ll reach it before nightfall.” He sighed. “Not that being late will make a difference...”
Over five weeks ago refugees appeared at Rigglend, a northern settlement closest to Bargor. It seems they suffered an undead attack and evacuated en masse. Due to the leadership apparently missing, and the evacuation getting messy, a lot died during the panic. Eric suspected that the appointed governor ran away on his own. Something like this could not go unpunished, so he made sure to send a letter to his retainer back in the capital to manage the mess. A hanging should ease the hatred of the commoners.
“That may be true, but I’d rather none of the undead spread out too far and cause unneeded deaths.” It would also take way too long to hunt them all down, but he kept it to himself. “What makes me worry is their number.”
“Why is that, my Liege?”
“Taking a fort city is nothing to scoff at, especially considering them undead. They probably overwhelmed the garrison.” His aide didn’t seem to quite get it. “In other words, there might be thousands of them.”
“Ah, I see.” The knight gulped.
“On the other hand, if they are led by a higher undead, like a lich for example, probably the number is not as big as that. Though I’m not sure what’s better between these two.”
Fighting liches was a pain in the ass after all, and basically an impossible task for the common footmen. Only enchanted gear could bridge such a gap, but even then the superior range still put them at a disadvantage.
“Then I guess we’re lucky to have a barrier master with us, my Liege.” He pointed to the man sitting in a wagon. Even in this cold weather all he wore was a simple white robe. He seemed to be meditating at the moment, not bothered by the rocking wagon. “Heard the royal army has ten of them, each capable of shielding one to two thousand men.”
“Hmm. I guess.” Eric answered dully. They’re not as indomitable as everyone thinks. With a powerful enough strike it’s quite easy to shatter a barrier that covers that wide an area…
The prince has even witnessed such a sight in the past when during a certain battle a ballista easily penetrated the magical wall – crushing its caster to paste. Not a sight a fourteen-year-old should’ve ever saw.
***
The army reached the city right before the sun fell behind the horizon and set camp. The prince didn’t bother hiding its presence as the enemy wasn’t likely to be intelligent and the nearby forests were too dangerous to hide in. He ordered for campfires to be lit in the plain ahead and patrolled all night. The undead had perfect night vision after all.
By the grace of gods, the night was peaceful and no night raid happened, proving the low intelligence of the horde. Within an hour the men readied for battle and began their march, leaving a hundred behind in their camp. They moved in a three column formation – spearmen with shields in front, supported by halberdiers and axe-men – while a smaller troop of archers and horsemen followed from behind.
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“It’d seem there’s more than yesterday.” A scout muttered.
Even from a few kilometers they could make out the swaying forms atop the walls. There seemed to be way more of them than yesterday, making the battlements fill to the brim. The figures literally chafed shoulders with each other, pushing and squirming eagerly at the prospect of killing the living ahead. Guessing from their casual bloodstained wear, they were the inhabitants of this town.
“Bloodydamn…” The prince cursed under his breath, realizing the monsters they’ll be fighting were zombies. They were as tough, or sometimes even tougher, than humans after all. The common tactic was to wait until they rotted and weakened before attacking. Sadly, he had no time to do so.
As the men closed in towards the town, many of them were forced to clench onto the holy mark and pray to the gods, as the visage of the walking dead was shockingly terrifying and their first. Morale dropped even more when they saw a few females still holding onto their unliving children, whom screeched in inhuman tongue.
The gate was tightly shut.
“Didn’t they evacuate?” Eric voiced his thoughts.
“Yes, my Liege. A hundred more or less have escaped. Though, the number increases every day as survivors get found in the wilderness, lost.” A nearby knight answered all of a sudden. He had full plate armor and a thick lance rested in his arm. It shone blue as light bended around it. Several similar figures surrounded the prince.
The prince Eric contemplated for a few moments before shouting out orders: “Bring the left wing closer! And summon the barrier master forth! I want him right behind the front line!”
People began to immediately move as knights and the like ordered them around. The left wing seemed to be less armored, most of them wearing gambesons, while the majority of the center and the right wings had chain mail and some even plate armor. A couple dozen heavy armored horses and longbowmen followed behind the lines. Naturally, the prince rode in the center and was accompanied by the best of the best and even a private guard of his own.
It only took ten minutes to rearrange the men and for the barrier master to come forth. He rode a light horse.
“Axe-men, forth! Break the gate open!”
Immediately, the barbaric-looking men sprung forth through the gaps of the front line. Thick beards peeked out under their steel helmets of masterful quality. Their blades had a unique pattern of flowing water, while a colorful insignia of a red gem decorated their cuirasses.
Without further ado they swung their axes methodically and calmly, shattering the wood beneath. Splinters flew as the inhuman growls rose forth through the gaps. Quickly the gate decayed to nothingness, barely hanging on its hinges, and the spearmen were ordered forwards. The few knights mixed within the ranks shone with the brilliance of silver as they ordered them around and kept the morale high.
As their steps got closer to the entrance of a formidable fortress, a high screech, or rather screeches, resounded, and the undead rushed the crumbling gate. Their arms flailed madly, reaching through the gaps for the living flesh. The axe-men weren’t surprised and quickly chopped the arms off as if they were part of the gate. They retreaded orderly when the zombies began ripping the wood on their own, and let the spearmen do their thing.
With loud *thunks* the men dug their steps in the ground and made an impregnable wall out of their shields. Polished tips poked through the gaps making the whole thing look like a weird, human-made, impersonation of a hedgehog.
The foul horde of death finally began limping through the remnants of a gate, and eventually speeding up into a sprint. Having no sense of exhaustion, they ran with all their inhuman might and smashed against the deadly formation.
However, it didn’t go all as planned for the humans, because the corpses still flailed and resisted even when skewered all the way through, and began disrupting the line. They piled up faster than the axe-men and halberdiers could end their miserable undeath. In response, the longbowmen began peppering arrows at the gate, merely buying a few seconds for the front.
Having not met a lich or any other disastrous undead, the prince ordered the other wings to move forth to relieve the stress off the center. It worked perfectly, and the number of dead corpses lessened, and eventually stopped. The men could still see them far away within the city’s streets, but for some reason they no longer rushed at them.
“What in the purgatory…” Someone within the ranks muttered as they saw what lied ahead.
The dead walked in a mechanical manner as if rallied by some force. Many of them were obvious remnants of the residents, some wearing nothing but nightgowns, showing off the massive gashes in their stomachs, while others were inhumanly beautiful men and women, even in death, and, surprisingly, a small amount of them were demi-humans from god knows where. What was clear though, that ancient shields, with various weapons and tools, were in their hands.
They began to mirror the living formation.