For a moment, there was no response at all, and Terry had a sickening feeling that the clerics were too frozen in their fear to be able to help them at all. Another firebrand hit the windows, and the kitchen curtains went up in a whoosh. As dreadful as it was, that seemed to rouse them.
“Courage!” Hardale said. “We must fight!”
The clerics rushed up from the basement, some with burlap sacks in hand to douse the flames where they could.
“We must get to the well!” Hardale said.
“No!” Terry said. “It’s an ambush. They’re waiting for you to run out so they can pick you off. Douse the flames as best you can and we will defend the house!”
As she spoke, she noticed the golden orb was growing larger, surrounding the house. A few clerics had joined Maurice in his spell, and the house was now protected. Other clerics beat at the remaining flames with their burlap sacks. Gregor came rushing down the steps, iron sword and shield in hand.
“Let’s go!” he shouted, and Terry followed him out the door.
A cadre of skeletal soldiers had broken away from the main troop movement and surrounded the house, shooting fire into the windows. Gregor charged one of them with his mighty sword, while Terry threw her golden ball at another. But the ball bounced off of the rider, seemingly harmless. She caught it again and looked around wildly.
“Use your rapier!” Gregor shouted, and Terry drew it with a sinking heart. She’d rarely had any experience with swordplay and these were not mere mortal opponents. But the rapier seemed to dance in her hand, and she realized that a combination of experience from fighting the flying wraiths and the magic of the rapier had turned her into a formidable foe, indeed. Soon, Gregor and Terry worked their way into a pattern. Gregor attacked the hell horses with his iron axe, and Terry attacked the skeletal riders with her rapier. She soon realized that disconnecting the skull from the body was the most effective method. The undead warriors did not have the same life-draining power as the forest or flying wraiths—their attack was human-like, though their undead nature made them difficult to kill. Soon they were surrounded by a pile of lifeless bones, along with the steaming and stenching bodies of the hell horses, who bled an unearthly green.
Terry thought that the undead army might send another squad to the abbey, but it seemed they did not want to waste any more energy on the little abbey, and as they fought, the troops moved on, leaving the night quiet again. Maurice and the other clerics ceased their protective spell, and the golden orb that surrounded the house disappeared. It was nearly dawn, and the clerics began to clean up as best they could from the destruction caused by the firebrands.
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“You saved the abbey,” Hardale said.
“We all saved it,” Terry replied. “Your clerics showed courage when the time was right. I’m glad to see it.”
“I, too,” Hardale replied. “This is our new reality now, and we must face it. Ah, well, you’ve shown us the way. We won’t cower again in our root cellar. We have an abbey to defend.”
They breakfasted on fruit, bread, and cheese, and the head cleric pressed what supplies he could into their hands. “It’s only a day’s walk to the next abbey,” he said, “but given the dangers you face, you should plan for more.”
“We must go as fast as we can,” Maurice responded. “Or there will be no kingdom left to defend.”
The three of them set off in the chill dawn, silent. It was getting noticeably colder, now, and the road was narrow and rocky. The trees at the edge of the road were still plentiful, but sparse, and there were no more farms. Even as the morning unfolded in all its bright glory, the light of the sun seemed weaker.
“If it’s this much colder now, how will it be when we truly get north?” Gregor said, then added—“Look!”
They had come to the crest of a small hill, and it gave them their first glance of great, purple mountains, rising in the air at a dizzying height. They were faint and far away on the horizon, but their presence was palpable, even at this far distant.
“There they are,” Maurice said.
“So far away!” Terry replied.
“And already huge, even with this far distance,” Maurice said.
They continued on, observing the marks made by the massive undead troop movement the night before.
“This wizard has powerful magic, that’s for sure,” Gregor said. “To raise a whole army!”
“We have powerful magic too,” Terry said. “Let’s not forget.”
Gregor changed the subject. “How long is it to get to the next abbey?”
“Hopefully, we’ll be there by sunset,” Maurice said.
“I wonder if they’re okay,” Terry said.
Maurice looked grim. “Me too,” he said.
“I think you should run ahead,” Terry said, “and check if they’re okay. You’ve got your sandals of Mercury. Scout it out, so we don’t all three stumble into some insanity.”
“Good idea,” Maurice said.
“Sandals of what?” Gregor said.
Maurice reached into his satchel and removed the sandals, then switched out his leather shoes with them.
“Keep walking,” he said. “I’ll be back as soon as I can with my report.”
Then he took off in a blur. It was something to see.
“Wow,” Gregor said. “I missed a lot.”
“Kind of,” Terry said. “I think you’re all caught up now. I’m not excited to travel without Maurice’s protective spells, but we need to know what we’re up against.”
“A good warrior makes tough decisions,” Gregor said. “Though we might have taken a few health potions from him before he left.”
“Oh,” Terry said. “Yeah.”
They walked along feeling extra exposed, especially when the road further narrowed until it was more of a trail, and the woods continued to disappear, until they walking through a desolate, rolling plain, dotted with twisted trees.
“What is that in the distance?” Terry murmured to Gregor. “It looks like a small hill.”
But before Gregor could respond, what seemed like a small hill moved, straightened, and stretched out to the sky. Its mighty head turned towards them and with a huge red tongue it licked its massive lips.
“That’s a plain giant,” Gregor said. “And he looks hungry.”