Balancing precariously on an outcropping of rock, Lowe slipped his hammer from his belt and tapped another metal wedge into the thin rent of vertical stone above his shoulder. After that he attached more of the coiled rope to the wedge, another six feet of safe climbing for the rest of the company done with.

Under him, Cuwin and the other Banishers grasped the ropes as they muttered invocations to dampen the sounds made from the forward climbers. To Lowe’s left was Nivin, another forward climber and to the young knight’s left were the two others, all stitching the way for the company to make a fast climb up the summit, which was about three-hundred feet high where the Spire perched. The landform was really more of a butte. Perhaps it had been a legitimate summit in the past.

Carefully, the Knight Captain reached out for another outcropping or rock, trying to get good purchase before trusting the rest of his weight.

Only a few more feet to the top.

As he began to haul his weight upward, sword and armor included, he froze, as a man in black trousers and a heavy cloak walked past near the edge above. So far the man hadn’t detected Lowe or the others, but all he had to do was look down and he’d see them all. Lowe put out a warding hand to stop the others and glanced toward one of the expert archers to Cuwin’s left, gave him a silent nod to take the man out.

The archer wrapped his leg around the loose section of climbing rope, tightening it enough to keep balance between the rock face and the wedges above and below him. Deftly, the archer readied his bow, knocked an arrow, all while leaning out from the cliff with nothing but strong legs and a twirl of rope between him and a hundred-pace drop. He drew, and loosed.

The arrow flitted through the air with barely a sound and penetrated the necromancer’s neck and exited out the other side. The man grasped at his throat as a horse gurgling of blood spouted from him windpipe, eyes wild and rolling for a moment. After just a moment of this, he fell onto his back. Lowe gritted his teeth. If the body was there long another sentry would see it and sound the alarm, preventing Lowe’s company from ever cresting the edge. He needed to move quickly, and hauled his weight up another increment before searching for another area that could either house a climbing wedge or at the very least provide the Knight Captain with something to grab onto so he could continue climbing.

As it were, there just happen to be the beginnings of the same cleft he had been using to insert the climbing wedges. He knocked another one in and hauled himself further to the cliff’s edge, then grabbed the protruding boot from the dead necromancer, then lifted himself up as he placed his calf between one of the tight ropes and the cliff face. He then rolled the body over the side.

The Order soldiers climbing after Lowe ducked their heads as the body disappeared beneath the thick mist before thumping onto the rocks below. Lowe anchored down the remaining coil of rope with several wedges and then moved to help the others up.

All in all, they had four climbing ropes anchored every six feet or so to the cliff face, providing a way to the top of the summit where they would remain unseen. Lowe removed the signal torch from his back, allowed Nivin to strike the flint, and then tossed it over the side.

“Let’s scout ahead,” Lowe said, grasping Cuwin’s forearm to help him up.

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Nivin nodded, still mildly winded from the exertions. Below the Spire, there was another layer of mist forming. It was slow and gradual—made to seem natural. Lowe moved forward through the newly-formed mist while Cuwin and the other Banishers continued muttering their invocations behind him and the other knights. According to the map found at the necromancer’s fortress, the base of the Spire Keep was situated close to the edges of the summit. The butte was probably formed to prevent climbers from assaulting the structure during a proper siege. Though, as Lowe discovered, the Spire Keep hadn’t been built overly close to the edge, or else it would have been at risk of collapse as the butte slowly eroded through the years.

The base of the Spire Keep was constructed from large black rocks, like the ones from the upper banks of the beach, and gleamed slickly in the damp environment. Because of the overcast skies and the chill weather, the mist was an opportune strategy for the Lowe’s company to utilize. Lowe pressed on, keeping near to the keep as he searched for the entry point. He spotted another sentry after a dozen paces. The man had his back exposed to Lowe.

Still protected under the Banisher’s sound dampening, he was able to move swiftly without risk of being heard. Sneaking behind the man, if it could be called sneaking, was no challenge at all. Lowe grabbed the man from behind, making sure to cover his mouth to keep him from warning his fellows, and pulled the sharp knife across the necromancer’s throat.

Lowe didn’t wait for the man to collapse and die, but instead pushed him over the edge where he would remain unseen.

“Good kill,” Cuwin said with a nod.

Lowe returned the gesture to his old friend. The man was really more of a father figure to him, having saved Lowe from a necromancer rite. He had been splayed for sacrifice by his own parents, Cuwin and other Order Knights bursting in just before the kill, inevitably saving him. At the time, Lowe hand been so enraptured with his necromancer parent’s destiny, he had resisted.

Cuwin changed all that, he thought. Up ahead was the entrance.

Pressing on, he found two more sentries and dispatched them nearly in the same fashion as the second man he had killed today and finally made it to the front entrance. The Spire Keep was broad in circumference.

This whole place was not aptly named. It should have been called the Butte Fortress or some other such title.

As he peeked out from behind the rocky base to get a look, Lowe realized that a frontal entry would require a full on assault. Fortunately there would be no need for a pitched battle as the Necrophiliad hadn’t properly occupied the structure. They were unprepared for a siege, but an assault none the less, which made entry through small corridors and up winding steps, difficult, even when battling necromancers—especially when battling necromancers if they had a small horde of zombies at their disposal.

“Do you think there’s a sally port somewhere out here?” Nivin asked.

Cuwin stopped his invocations to speak. “Do we have time to go searching for one? Even if we find one, what makes you think it’s unguarded, young Knight?”

“It wouldn’t hurt to check,” Lowe said, though he was concerned about their time constraint. If the necromancers already had sentries guarding the Spire, then the Lord Summoner was no doubt already in attendance in his secret conclave with the Hurg. “Cuwin’s right. We don’t have time to find an alternative entrance. This is our chance.”

By now the rest of the company was beginning to form a long line behind them, ready for Lowe’s command to action.

This is reckless…

He knew the fight would be bloody, but when would the situation ever be just right as to be easy? Lowe doubted he, or the Order, would ever have another opportunity like this, and if they did, what were the chances that the situation would be more suited for attack without high casualties?

Probably never, he told himself. War is sacrifice—now get on with it!

Nivin stirred beside him. “Lord Lowe?”

He hated it when anyone called him “lord,” though lord he was. Lowe stepped to the side where the company could see him. “We assault the front gate.” He made a series of hand signals and the company formed up in a clamor of boots and armor, Knights and Banishers at the front, men-at-arms with tall shields and pole arms on the flanks and what few archers they had, at the rear.

“Forward! For the Purging Flame and the world!”