The goblins gathered around fires that once belonged to the cultists. Darian watched them from the south side of camp, their gleeful voices carrying on the cool wind.

“They're loud creatures for how sneaky they are,” Darian mused.

“My village has dealt with goblins from time to time,” Fria said. “Some lived in a town up in the mountains, about a day or so away from us." She grinned. "One of the women there used to trade with father. She had an eye for healing herbs the rest of us didn't." Then she frowned. "But that was before the Justicar’s purges.”

“Justicars,” Gorm growled. “The nation of Lonelen would do well to be rid of them.” He inspected Darian’s arm and his shoulder.

Darian had consumed two health potions, a feat that seemed to shock Gustan. But now they only had five potions left, and while the two Darian drank helped, his arm still wasn’t functioning properly.

“Well, is it broken?” Darian asked. His new body was super tough, but the skeleton’s mace had not only torn his flesh, but battered the bone beneath.

Gorm squeezed Darian’s arm. “Might be cracked.” Then he pressed on Darian’s shoulder.

Darian groaned, biting back the pain as Gorm’s rough fingers clamped around the wound.

“Well?”

“Sorry about this,” Gorm said.

“What do y—”

Gorm twisted suddenly, Darian’s shoulder snapping back into place. The pain was blinding at first, but just as quickly as it came, the pain passed.

“Shoulder was just dislocated.” Gorm clapped Darian on the back.

“Just dislocated?” Darian worked the arm, his shoulder raw.

“It’s probably still damaged. I know it’s going to be hard, but try not to push it too much or it might pop out again.”

“Wonderful.” My passive regeneration might heal it up some before the next battle, but I can’t swing my sword as hard until it’s fully healed.

Zan limped closer and gave Darian’s hand a lick. Darian crouched and scratched the wolf’s face. They’d decided to have Zan guard Gustan while they attacked the gate. Zan was good help in a fight, especially with his buff ability. But with how slowed he was, the wolf would be more of a liability in the coming battle.

Not that some of us are doing much better. Gorm had bandaged his arm with some medical supplies he found in one of the tents. But the bandage had a red smear down the middle, and the healing potion he drank seemed to only partially heal the wound. He was also covered in small cuts and bruises from being flung through the air by that necromancer. But he put on a tough face, doing his best to instill confidence in the group.

Harper’s head wound was making her see double. She had to sit or lean on something to keep from falling over. That meant the group effectively was left with three fighters instead of five. But at least Fria hasn’t been injured. She still had one use of her unique skill, and besides [Flame Spear] and [Swarm], Darian still had plenty of uses left for his other abilities. This is going to be a bloody battle. If there really were more than a hundred undead up the road, Darian wasn’t sure they could take them even with the goblin’s help. But he was resolved to try, and so he leaned against the stone wall at his back and waited for the new goblins to arrive.

They came from the marshlands to the east, a tall man wearing a black robe shuffling along at the group's center. His face was horribly disfigured from what appeared to be an old burn. As he stomped onto the bank and observed the destruction of the camp, his head sagged, and Darian thought he heard the man mutter a curse.

“Guess we should get to questioning before the night runs away from us,” Gorm said, hefting up his axe.

Darian followed the half-orc to the horde of goblins that surrounded the prisoner. All of them, save the chief, still looked upon Gorm like he was some living legend. Whoever this Yazliar guy was, he definitely left an impression on them.

“We do not know his name,” the chief said, poking a finger at the prisoner. “He has been tight-lipped thus far.”

The prisoner looked up from the dirt, his eyes latching on Darian. His foot slid back, his body growing rigid.

“You,” he mumbled, his voice shaking.

“Know each other?” Harper asked, Gustan helping her stay upright as she made her way over to them.

Darian studied the man. I’d remember a face like that. But then he recalled the masked leader of the cultists from the fort. The battle there was still a blur to him, but he remembered that one of them managed to escape.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

“Did you do this?” he asked, gesturing at the scattered bodies. “Had to finish the job, did you?” his eyes glistened.

“Not quite,” Darian said, stepping past the others, all eyes on him. “But you tried to take me prisoner, and you threatened one of my friends.” He nodded at the defeated Bone Knights. “And you allied yourself with the necromancer. This is simply the result of that.”

He scoffed. “And would you have done anything different in my position?” his face became twisted in rage. “I should have commanded my men to kill you on the spot. Mercy is what did this.”

“What do you know of the Nether Gate?” Gorm asked, taking his position at Darian’s side. “The one to the south of here.”

“I will tell you nothing.”

Gorm smiled, then launched his fist into the burned man’s stomach. Darian winced, having been on the receiving end of those same punches.

“We have already beaten him,” the chief explained. “He is resilient for a human.”

“You’re all…” he wiped the spit from his mouth, his hands cradling his stomach. “Going to die in this forest.”

Darian seized the man, heat flashing in his chest. He held him close, his pulsing veins right there for the taking. A coldness consumed Darian as he looked into the man’s frightened eyes.

“You will answer my friend’s questions, or I’ll rip you apart just like I did the others at the fort.” Darian let his fangs emerge. Though most of the blood had run into the soil and wasn’t fresh enough for drinking, its beautiful scent still filled the air. And despite being full, he could do with one more meal before the battle.

A hand gripped Darian’s arm. He’d not realized he started leaning in for the bite before the burned man had time to speak.

“You’ve made your point,” Gorm said, his voice measured.

Darian unhanded the shaking man and stepped back, finding that everyone, including the goblins, were looking at him strangely.

“You must promise not to kill me,” the scarred man said. “Then I will tell you what I know.”

“Sounds fair enough,” Gorm said. “What say you, chief? Do you agree?”

The chief looked between Gorm and Darian. “I agree. But we will keep him prisoner until the battle is concluded. If he proves to be trouble or his information is false, we shall feed him to the pale one.”

“Alright then,” Gorm said, letting his axe blade rest on the ground. “Let’s start with your name.”

“I’m Alaric.”

“Well, Alaric, what were you and your cultists friends doing in this forest?”

Alaric’s eyes flickered to Darian, then he began to speak. “My master made a deal with the Lady of Graves to deliver powerful bodies to her in exchange for charged Nether crystals.”

Gorm squinted at the cultists’ makeshift fortifications. “Was this outpost part of that deal?”

“It wasn’t, but I swear I do not know more about it. My mentor Julius was probably the only person who knew, and I can see his body over there.” He motioned past the group at the dead necromancer.

“Alright, now tell me what you know about the Lady of Graves and the southern gate.”

Alaric’s shoulders slumped. “I confess to not know much.” He gulped, the goblins around him snapping their yellowed teeth together. “She is a human from Lonelen, one who is unnaturally gifted in the art of necromancy. My master tried to recruit her, but she refused him. Since then, she was captured by the Justicars and held prisoner. Why they did not execute her on the spot, I do not know.” He pointed down the road. “As for the southern gate, it is inside a ruined town, one much larger than this roadside stop. She has dozens of undead guarding it, but when we passed through, my mentor noted the eastern wall was in terrible shape, nearly crumbling from age.”

“Would we be able to knock it over?” the chief asked.

“Perhaps. But that was days ago, and the undead do not tire. They could have fixed it by now.”

“Is there anything else you can tell us about the defenses?” Fria asked.

“They have two watchtowers that face the north and a wall that surrounds all sides except the south entrance. If you were to attack it, the east or the south would be the best avenue.” He cupped his hands together at his waist, his eyes growing frantic. “That is all I know. I’m sorry that I can’t tell you more.”

“Do we believe him?” Fria asked, eyeing everyone in the group, even the goblin chief.

“Humans lie,” the chief said. “But this one tells it true. What he says matches my scouts’ reports, though we didn’t get close enough to notice this weakness in the wall.”

“Could that be a point of entry for us?” Darian asked, the thought of the approaching battle quickening his pulse.

“For many of my tribe perhaps, but the rest of us should exploit this southern weakness the human mentioned.”

“My team can enter through there,” Harper said, doing her best to stand proud despite her wobbling legs.

“Then all that’s left is to gather at the town’s edge and prepare for battle.” The chief turned to the horde of warriors behind him before he barked something at them in a language Darian couldn’t understand. But whatever he said riled them up. They raised their weapons, hammers, spears, and crude knives all thrusting to the sky as they let out a collective war cry.

“I will leave some to watch this one.” The chief said, nudging an elbow at Alaric.

Three of his warriors pushed Alaric down the road, one of them preparing rope.

“I guess it’s time,” Darian said, Fria and Gorm beside him.

“It is.” Fria took a deep breath. “All the gates will be destroyed after this.”

“And this foolish necromancer will soon follow,” Harper said, Gustan and Zan trailing behind her.

Darian moved past the others, his feet carrying him toward their final conflict. “Let’s all try to make it through this alive.”

“Agreed,” Gorm said.

“I don’t plan on letting this forest claim more than it already has,” Fria added.

Gustan coughed. “Let’s all just do our best.”

“I would never dream of dying in such a dreary place,” Harper said.

Darian summoned his resolve and walked down the road, the goblins and the others all falling in behind him.