“Drolen,” Jorg said, hefting his mace up. “Should have known filth like you be involved in this.”

“Isaac,” Darian mumbled. “My sword is in the room you showed me. Get it.”

The boy hesitated, looking between Jorg and the dwarves. But then he sprinted into the building, Krast following behind.

The shielded dwarf stepped forward, the hulk of two metal men appearing in the doorway behind him. “Filth? Is that what you think of me? I’m a changed man, Jorg.” He raised his thick-headed mace. “And I’m no longer alone.”

A crossbow bolt pierced the air, the tip aimed at Jorg’s chest. But the paladin expected the attack, and he ducked low and to the left. The bolt slid right over his shoulder, thunking as it imbedded itself in the fort’s outer wall.

Darian pulled a sword from his inventory and charged the dwarf named Fanrel. He was headed for the gate and would have it open before long. The sound of marching dwarves was still some distance away, but the first would arrive at the fort within ten minutes, maybe a little longer. And it hasn’t been 24 hours since I used my summon skills. Going to have to do this fight without them. They had to be gone before the other dwarves arrived, or they risked being surrounded and cut down.

The bright gleam of a spear stabbed at Darian’s face, and he jumped back. The man who held it was humanoid in shape, but his body was made of twisting, dark metal.

A golem.

Blue steam sprayed from its joints as it jabbed forward, the spear moving with speed and accuracy. But just like the skeletons Darian was used to fighting, there was no particular skill or rhythm to the attacks. They were swift and powerful, but lacked grace. Darian knocked the first two thrusts wide before wreathing his blade in arcane acid. He drove it down and forward, the blade clanging as it smashed into the mechanical man’s shoulder.

But the metal held firm, sizzling from the acid, but otherwise unharmed. Darian was wondering what to do next when the second golem rushed him, blocking out all thoughts except that of defense. He backed away, parrying and blocking, doing his best to put one of his foes in the path of the other. But they were too swift, too precise in their maneuvering to get in each other’s way. And so Darian was pushed further and further away from Jorg, the paladin having his own pitched battle against the dwarf’s leader, Drolen.

Activating [Arcane Blade], Darian jabbed his sword forward, the edge lit by magical electricity. The golem attempted to throw the strike wide, but Darian pulled back his attack, then thrusted it forward and past the golem’s defenseless guard. It burst in a flash of brilliant sparks as the tip pierced the construct’s chest.

Blue light flashed between the cracks in the golem’s armor and the air filled with the hiss of steam. It stumbled, then fell to one knee. Darian prepared the finishing blow, but the other golem pressed in on him with a flurry. He sidestepped the final thrust and placed his palm against the golem’s head, delivering [Shocking Grasp] followed by [Corrosive Touch]. But it persisted through the combination, twisting to bring the haft of its spear up and forward. With a hard shove, it sent Darian on the backfoot. Then it moved in and started its flurry of attacks all over again.

Seems like the middle of the chest is their weak point. The other golem had managed to stand, but whatever light that powered it from within was diming, and the construct was slow to move. It lumbered behind its brother with hardly enough strength to lift its spear. Darian ducked to the right and used [Dash Strike] to close the distance on the wounded golem, a thrust aimed at the gap in its chest.

With a loud crack, Darian’s sword burst through the golem’s core, the glass like sphere shattering in a blinding spray of azure light. Then he spun, his sword sparking as it narrowly blocked a spear. Driving forward, Darian kicked the golem in the chest, stumbling it. Then he electrified his blade and attacked, [Determined strike] adding extra strength to the blow.

At the moment his sword struck the construct’s chest, the bolt of a crossbow slammed into his arm, right above the elbow. The force of it sent his attack wide, and Darian’s sword slid down the golem’s midsection. And off balance, Darian couldn’t defend as the metallic man brought the bladed edge of his spear up in an arc.

It hit Darian’s stomach first, his chainmail keeping his flesh protected. But as the golem twisted, the blade bit through the armor, leaving a searing gash from Darian’s chest all the way to his collar bone. He gritted his teeth through the pain and glanced at the gate.

It was wide open.

The dwarf who shot him stood before it, frantically attempting to load another bolt into his crossbow. Staring at him, and with the golem reading another attack, Darian activated [Talon of the Night]

It was a skill that didn’t work on undead or constructs, and so he had little opportunity to use it since gaining it from his third race level. But the skill, which caused violent insanity if it succeeded, worked. The dwarf dropped his crossbow and clutched his beard, tugging at the hair like it was on fire.

Darian had underestimated the golems, figuring he could dispatch them easily as he’d done most of his last few opponents. But he should have used [Talon of the Night] from the beginning. Attempting to correct his mistake, he dodged a spear thrust and then activated it on Drolen and the dwarf beside him.

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Drolen resisted, but his ally did not. He dropped his crossbow and fell back, pulling and scratching at his face in a fit of screaming terror. Drolen didn’t even glance at his companion, however, as Jorg’s mace was busy pounding the dwarf’s shield into an unrecognizable shape.

[Talon of the Night] had a second ability, and Darian wasted no time attempting to activate it. Using [Dash Strike], he covered the distance between him and the dwarf by the gate in an instant. Thrusting with one arm was difficult, but Darian’s sword piercing the dwarf’s stomach, blood bursting as it ripped through the other side of his body. And as he continued to cry out in terror, Darian sunk his fangs into the short man’s neck, savoring the earthy flavor of his blood.

Drinking blood in combat fogged Darian’s mind, his passive skill [Bloodfrenzy] increasing his strength and speed but muddling his thoughts. Pushing through the haze, he ripped his blade free, killing the screaming dwarf. But as his final, bubbling breath left him, he rose as a vampiric undead under Darian’s control.

Fangs spurted from the dwarf’s mouth and his eyes fogged over a bright crimson. Without warning or direction, the undead charged Drolen from behind. But Darian changed the undead’s orders, and it dove at the other crossbowman, ripping his throat out in a shower of blood. Then he too became Darian’s puppet, and he sent the two of them at Drolen together.

The remaining golem rushed to Drolen’s aid, but one electricity enhanced thrust though the back and it was finished. Kicking its lifeless body over, Darian watched as Jorg approached Drolen.

The dwarf commander’s shield was smashed to pieces, and even without the undead’s help, Jorg would have finished things soon enough.

“My old commander was too soft on you,” Jorg said, raising his mace. “A mistake I will see corrected.”

The dwarf was on one knee, blood running from his scalp and down into his beard. He grimaced, whatever history he and Jorg shared passing through his mind. He spat, then grunted as fangs buried themselves in his back and shoulder.

Not giving the undead even a glance, Jorg drove his mace down, smashing Drolen’s head in a single blow.

Isaac and Krast emerged from the officer’s barracks, Sparkblade gripped tightly in Isaac’s gloved hands. They watched as the dwarf’s body tumbled to the side, the undead feasting. Isaac watched with some degree of horror, but Krast could not contain himself. He pushed past Jorg and dove atop the body, his fangs finding soft flesh.

“We need to leave,” Darian said, dropping his sword to pull the crossbow bolt out of his arm.

“Agreed,” Jorg replied. He stared at Drolen’s body, hunger in his eyes. If they didn’t move out soon, he would lose himself to the hunger just like Krast.

Darian walked over to Isaac, the boy still stuck somewhere between horrified, and blood crazed. He was gripping Sparkblade so tightly Darian nearly had to pry his fingers from the weapon. But with his sword secured, Darian turned to pull Krast off the body.

That was when something smashed into his chest.

He flew backwards, the world tumbling as he flipped through the air. Landing with a thud, he rolled, his back cracking as it met stone. He blinked, vision blurry, his ears full of tumbling rock and gnashing metal. Jorg was fighting someone near the barracks, and he was on the back foot, his opponent barreling at him with a massive hammer.

Darian stuck his sword into the cold, hard ground, and used it to stand. His chest throbbed and his ribs cried out in agony as he bent over the pommel of his blade. Sticking from the ground where he’d been standing was an arched pillar of stone. It must have come up and hit me. He groaned, his whole body tingling from head to foot.

A rock the size of a football spiraled from behind the pillar. Darian managed to duck it, but then another sped toward him. This one collided with his shoulder, and he stumbled back and into the wall.

A dwarf appeared from the barracks doorway, wielding a short hammer in one hand and some kind of glowing stone in the other. Two golems flanked him, the tips of their spears bright in the starlight. And raising the fist that held the stone, the ground beneath Darian began to tremble.

He pulled his sword free and fell backwards into the prison. Then he scrambled up as the dwarf and his golems began to advance. He commanded his two undead to attack the dwarf, but his golems cut them off. Darian would have to fight him alone.

“Ah, I see you’ve retrieved your magical sword,” Alistair said from the side. “Mind giving these a whack with it?” He raised his bound wrists.

Darian gave the man a withering glance. “I’m busy.” He did his best to adopt a fighting stance. He had one use left of [Talon of the Night], but if it didn’t work, he had other options.

Isaac’s scream split the air.

“Sound like you need help,” Alistair said. “Get me out and I can summon you up some fresh meat.”

“A guy like you can’t be trusted. You’d run, or worse.” Darian’s legs were starting to steady themselves, but the dwarf would be in the room before he could fully recover.

“I’m afraid I won’t be running any time soon. I haven’t had food in days. Truth be told, I’m not getting anywhere without help. And as for something worse? I’m no murderer, your friend could attest to that.”

“I don’t trust you,” Darian flatly replied.

Alistair moved forward, his hands held up as the sound of battle grew outside.

“You need me, and I need you. I’m not asking for trust, but we can at least help each other get out of this fort alive.”

A rock sped through the open doorway and Darian ducked to the side, nearly falling as his chest tightened and his ribs screamed.

“Do not make me regret this,” he said, turning, putting all his strength into a downward chop.

Sparkblade collided with the null ore binding Alistair’s wrists, the edge striking right in the small crack Alistair had managed to make after his days of smashing them against the wall. There was a flash of light, then the shackles fell to the floor with a dull thud.

“My thanks,” Alistair said, shadows beginning to swirl around his feet.

The dwarf burst into the room, his eyes focused on Darian. But then darkness crept across the floor, and rising from it came clawed hands of bone and flesh. Within moments, a horde of zombies and skeletons filled the hall, and the dwarf was forced to retreat.

“Keep them off me,” Alistair said, panting as he shuffled for the hole in in his prison cell. “And I’ll make sure we both get out of here alive.”