The forest encroached upon the fortifications, undermining their defences. Sections of the stone wall collected in heaps around the roots of ancient trees that grew beneath the walls and collapsed them like enemy sappers. Other parts had fallen to ruin over time as the lime mortar deteriorated without anyone to maintain it. Trees, vines, moss, and more grew over the ruined walls, nature reclaiming the artifice long ago abandoned – and forgotten - by mortals.

Over the crumbling walls, the keep, built into the rising mountain, fared little better. Its ramparts, walls and even portions of its internal structure lay in a similar state of ruin as the outer fortifications. Rotted wood and long rusted metal lay in bundles by collapsed buildings, representing all that was left of siege weapons and heavy munitions.

Noctessa scaled over a crumbled wall, peeked over the edge, then gestured for the others to follow. She hopped down without a sound, Lyraal following suit and Riggs trying his best. His best earned him a glare from the druid when he landed and stumbled due to his injured leg. Then she prowled over the uneven, broken cobblestones to the cover of a rotting building. Her head scanned the area ahead, slowly moving back and forth, before finally waving them forward and patting the air down.

Riggs blinked, but Lyraal crouched and skulked to join Noctessa. Riggs did the same, feeling silly, then stubbed his foot against a loose brick. He condemned the brick to the darkest nightmare realm, then joined the others in what he realized was the castle’s old cavalry stables. His nose wrinkled at the smell of rotting wood and he eyed the supports warily, some of which had already collapsed. No horses had been stabled here for decades, but the sight of the building evoked in Riggs vivid memories of the smells of manure, leather, and hot-shoeing horses – his pa always standing behind him in the beginning, making sure he did it right.

If you can’t take care of a horse, you have no business being a smith.

Noctessa turned away from the window and joined her companions. Looking pale, she turned towards Lyraal, “Do you feel it?”

They nodded in response, “The necromantic magic here is palpable.”

“I did not think such power existed.”

“It should not, not anymore...”

“I don’t feel anything.” Riggs muttered.

"Yes, you are kitahm,” Noctessa said, as if it were obvious. “There is something you should both see, carefully peek out that window and look east.”

Lyraal looked first, then Riggs.

A dozen bandits busied themselves with packing up belongings and looting choice bits of salvage at the last minute. They were a painful, familiar sight to Riggs. An assortment of people that looked very much like his own neighbours and even spoke the same language, albeit strangely. Their dirty hide armour was reinforced with bits scavenged from the places they raided, and he knew some of the weapons and armour his pa and he had forged would be with these people. Even from dozens of yards away, the stench of their bodies and swill overpowered the smell of rotting wood and moss. They were mere interlopers in this historic sight, however.

What remained of the castle’s eastern walls lay devastated, entire sections blown apart and scattered throughout the bailey. Ancient skeletons of different sizes and shapes littered the open courtyard, legions of long dead people lying inert and undisturbed on the ground with a motley assortment of rusted weapons and armour. Nature invaded this area as well, lichen and vines slowly crawling over the mass grave.

But not everywhere.

Even nature gave a wide berth to areas of the battlefield filled with inhuman remains. Riggs spotted monsters of similar design to the bone horror he faced the night before. Monstrous bones littered the battlefield – hordes of small monsters, troops of larger ones, and a few huge ones – their skeletons twisted and warped beyond recognition by the natural world.

The largest such behemoth was more notable than the other nightmares around. Hundreds of individual skeletons came together in some unholy fusion between a mantis and scorpion that stood taller than a house, armed with a pair of huge, scything appendages. It had breached the keep’s inner portcullis, the large iron bars bent and sundered. Something had obliterated the monster’s skull and it fell, still blocking the breach it made in a long-forgotten battle.

Riggs slumped to the ground, away from the window, and placed his head in his hands.

How can we fight anything like that?

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

How did anyone?

“Can that behemoth be animated again?” Noctessa’s tone was cool, detached.

The Warden hesitated before answering, “I do not think so.”

"You do not sound very certain.”

“It will not happen, as long as we destroy the source of this evil.”

“Now can we let the bandits go?”

Riggs stirred, “No. They’re still a threat to others.”

And we can still succeed at something, today.

Lyraal nodded their agreement and Noctessa frowned. “Fine. Then we wait for the bandits to pack and leave, and ambush them when the fortifications are on our side.”

“We cannot,” Lyraal replied, and the druid balked at their words, “I can sense magic being worked... the necromancer will use the extra time to strengthen their position. Assaulting a mage’s lair when it’s warded is suicide – we must strike quickly.”

“Riggs said the attacks and magic started a week ago! What is a few more minutes to this being?”

“I know. We may already be too late, and our chances slim. I understand dying is not why you came here, so if either of you-”

“Do not dare call me a savage and coward in one day.”

“I’m staying too. Same plan?” Riggs cut in.

They all exchanged glances, then nodded.

“Let me prepare a spell to initiate the battle. It will be noticeable and take time to complete – Riggs, I will need you shield me.”

“Can do.” He unslung his shield and strapped it on, drawing the longsword with his other hand.

Noctessa moved down to a window deeper in the stalls, red tattoos glowing as her eyes once again took on the aspect of an eagle. Once in position, she murmured a prayer in a language Riggs did not understand, and her bow glowed with pale, green foxfire for an instant.

“Fire when they notice us, but try not to drive them into cover immediately.” Lyraal stood and placed themselves by the nearby window, staff in hand. “Cover me, Riggs.”

Riggs stood, shield covering most of the window, with his eyes peeking over it. He smelled smoke and cinders build behind him. The bandits continued to pack, unaware of what was unfolding.

The smell and heat intensified as seconds passed. Sweat started to bead on the back of his neck and the stench of smoke and brimstone became unbearable. Riggs peeked behind him and blanched – Lyraal radiated with burning energy, halos ablaze.

He looked forward again, swallowing with a dry throat.

The bandits had noticed, shouting out warnings while figuring how to respond.

One in the back scrambled to pull their bow and Riggs heard a deep thwump from nearby. As the bandit grabbed an arrow from their quiver, something punched through their eye and they toppled over.

Another gestured frantically towards Riggs, convincing half a dozen of them to charge forward with a determined roar. A few more fired their bows and Riggs raised his shield, taking a second to turn away and blink sweat from his eyes. He watched Noctessa peek around the window’s edge, aim, and fire off another shot, her bow producing another deep thwump that he felt in his chest. He heard bandits curse in shock and horror a moment later, witnessing whatever her arrow did to its victim. Turning to check on the spell, Riggs recoiled and blinked spots from his eyes as the burning white energy scarred his retinae.

“Almost there,” Lyraal said through gritted teeth, “Tell me where to aim it.”

Riggs lowered his shield to look, but flinched as an arrow skipped off the rim then off his helmet. Two more arrows thunked into his shield and he cursed himself for not angling it properly. He was still blinking spots out of his eyes. “Noctessa! I can’t see!”

“Call the shot! Now!” Lyraal shouted.

The druid peeked around the window again, arcing another shot. Her eyes flicked across the scene and then she put her back to the wall again. “Six coming directly at us! Fifty feet!”

“Riggs, move!”

He ducked to the side and a blazing ball of fire roared past him, hotter than any forge he had worked. He felt and smelled his beard singe from the mere presence of the heat. The bandits outside screamed as they saw their end soaring towards them, scattering and diving for cover. The ball exploded with an earth-shaking boom. The sound and shockwave deafened and staggered Riggs, and threatened to bowl Lyraal off their feet.

He stumbled against one of the old stable’s support beams and felt it creaking through his shoulder.

Riggs rushed into Lyraal, sending them flying out into the open, and then charged to the back of the building where Noctessa stood, still stunned from the blast wave. He sheathed the sword as he ran, then threw the druid to the ground just as the building collapsed.

The roof crashed down, but he stood his ground and deflected debris away from the companion at his feet. A support beam plummeted onto him, his wounded leg giving out beneath him. Then the wall fell on them, and he dropped to all fours, using his body to shield Noctessa.

Ears ringing, head pounding, he held up the collapsed building.

Noctessa’s lips were moving, but he heard nothing.

“...ow?”

He shook his head, trying to clear it.

“..t n.....”

“I can’t hear you!” She flinched from his words.

Calloused hands cupped his face, forcing him to look at her. She mouthed words very slowly.

“Oh!” He nodded, understanding. “Untie my shield!”

She did so, then looked at him.

"Get ready!”