“So it really has nothing to do with carpets?” Bell teased Bert.

“Well, sort of,” He said, “You drop a carpet of bombs… that covers the ground… like a carpet.”

“So why didn’t they call it like-a-carpet-bombing?” She grinned.

“Carpet bombing sounds snappier?” Bert offered.

“If you need to give it a snappy name, it’s a shit weapon!” Bell laughed.

“Oh, really?” Bert took the bait.

“Decapitation, Beheading, cutting off the head,” She grinned, “By any name, it terrifies.” She snorted, “Carpet Bombing almost sounds nice.”

“That was kind of the point,” Bert admitted.

“What?” Bell asked.

“They wanted to boast about their new tactic without people asking if it was really ethical to do to an enemy.” Bert sighed. “Dropping bombs until everything bigger than a blade of grass is destroyed in an area tends to make people wonder if you are even trying to avoid collateral damage.”

“So they called it Carpet Bombing instead?” Bell asked.

“Yes.”

“And people fell for that?” She chuckled.

“Enough of them did,” He shrugged.

“One pixie ever made it to Earth… you’d all have been extinct in a year,” She grinned.

“Be fair,” Bert laughed. “We did our best to wipe ourselves out without help.”

“Boss?” Bud called from the Barn door.

“What’s up, Bud?” Bert asked,

“They are complaining again,” Bud said.

“On my way,” Bert headed out and joined Bud over at the production line. It was a complicated process, making so many firebombs.

“Why can’t we just keep one!” Mic’ali was pleading with his sister Sal’ali.

“No, we need them all,” Tru’nal said bluntly.

“But what difference can it make?” Ric joined his brother’s cause.

“Lots,” Bert said as he walked into the tent. “There could be thousands of them in there. Tens of thousands.”

“Then how can a few extra firebombs matter?” Mic whined, protecting the last barrel of Death Mead.

“It’s the difference between killing them and just pissing them off.” Bert chuckled. “I promise to find a new brewer as soon as possible, okay?”

“Can I just have one last drink?” Ric asked.

“Sorry, we need it all.” Bert shook his head.

“Jus-” Mic cut off as his sister slapped the back of his head. “Fine!”

“Go see to the city; we will handle this,” Tru’nal nodded to Bert.

“Thanks,” Bert called as he headed for the gate out of the camp.

He made his way up the slope in the gloom of the early evening. In his mind, he was still in that gateway, his shield shivering and crumbling in front of him as fire and snarling faces danced in his vision.

That had been a bad one. He had not really had time to think while it was actually happening. It was after things were quiet that the images returned to him. There are some things that you just can’t unsee, and an eyeball bursting in a fire is one of them.

His stomach turned over, and he stopped, panting slowly to avoid throwing up. His chest clenched as he began to shake.

Bert sat on the grass and concentrated on his breathing as the images of teeth and fire danced before his eyes. He could feel his skin cracking and burning again, and his breath would just not come.

Bert ran his hand over the grass, feeling it tickle his palm. He concentrated on that until the feeling passed. He took a shuddering breath, then another.

Bert took a minute before getting to his feet.

“Job to do,” He told himself, “Got a job to do here.”

He started up the slope again. Here he was, preparing to assault a literal city of the dead, with a brief pause for a panic attack. The thought struck him as funny, and he arrived at the preparation site chuckling and jovial.

Tense faces greeted him. They relaxed, seeing him. He wondered if they would be so reassured if they had seen him a minute ago, covered in a cold sweat and holding onto the grass for dear life.

The Fortress had an additional layer of defense he had not anticipated. The City Core extended its influence all the way down the slope. As a result, the Waystation could not help with the construction of these pieces.

The Carpet bombing was bound to get a reaction, and that reaction had to be controlled. These were the control.

The narrow gateways of the city made the perfect defendable position. It did, however, work both ways. They were currently constructing a set of large, solid blockades to move into position at all three city gates. Once in position, they could be anchored in place while the denizens were distracted by the fire raining down on the city.

That just left the large and small breaks in the wall. The small one was getting a blockade of its very own, while the large was getting three interlocking blockades that would have to be manned for the entire fight. Behind that position, they were currently digging a set of pit traps. It was slow going as they had to dig very, very quietly.

Nothing like thousands of slavering undead to really focus the mind on the need for quiet.

==============

They started an hour before sunrise. The firebombs had been brought over to the staging site by the world’s most anxious bucket line. It was quite something to watch as everybody passed them from one to the other, knowing that a single mistake would see fire explode around them while the noise drew every undead in the city.

With everything ready, the Multi-Bells took position over the bombs, levitating a collection each before moving into place to fly in formation behind Bell. Bell herself was flying protection for her copies, hovering in the center of a swarm of rapidly orbiting knives as she waved at him.

Bert waved back and moved to take his place amongst the push teams. They were responsible for getting the barricades into position where he and the other crafters would fuse them to the walls.

With a final look around, he raised a hand to Bell and nodded.

The pixies took to the air, circling to the far side of the city and starting their run. There was nothing but silence as they waited.

In the distance, light bloomed. The sound of explosions drew closer, and Bert started to push. His team churned up the grass beneath their feet as they pushed the giant blockade forward. The block touched the stone just as a swarm of giggling pixies flew past overhead. He started to fuse the wood and metal to the stone as the sounds of movement approached.

Bruno was hammering long steel spikes through the barricade’s braces and into the floor. It was just in time. Bert was lying across the top of the barricade, fusing it to the gateway as the first impact slammed into it. The pushers hurried, hammers flying as they drove the spikes in as deep as possible.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Bert finally finished the fusing as the pixies flew back the other way, a new set of bombs dropping on any target areas missed in the first pass.

A call for help came from further along, at the large breach in the wall. Bert sprinted over, keeping his mind clear of the memories of the gateway as he went. He felt it trying to force its way out every time he saw flames.

This could be a problem.

Bert arrived at the Barricade and could see the problem immediately. The middle barricade had not been secured properly. The pusher team was fighting to keep it in place as the numbers increased on the other side. Their feet were already at the edge of the pit.

He leaped, landing on the top of the center barricade and unleashing his mana through his shield. The packed masses of undead shattered under the onslaught, and the pressure eased.

Flames licked at the back of the group as the pusher team moved the barricade back into position. Hammers swung, driving the spikes as deep as they would go.

For good measure, Bert cast a Chill rune on the floor in between the barricades, causing a sheet of ice to spread over the floor. The slippery surface did the job, the assembled undead falling, scrabbling for purchase.

“First area of the city is all bombed out!” Bell said, swooping down. “Nothing moving anywhere!”

“Great job!” Bert said.

“We’re gonna head onto the area behind the next walls!” A Multi-Bell called as they headed off, giggling.

“Any sign of threats?” Bert asked Bell before she left.

“Nothing!” Bell waved as she flew off. “Just a bunch of Zombies.”

Bert watched the pixie’s bombing run on the inner city from atop the center barricade. It helped him to look up, away from the fire and the burning bodies. The smell was bad enough.

So he was the first to see the attackers.

A wave of mana bolts flew from behind the inner wall. They were a strange off-white color, and they hit the pixie squadron hard.

Bert tensed, his mind freezing as he watched the blades flying to intercept the bolts.

But the shots kept coming as the number of pixies fell. At last, it was just Bell, dodging and weaving as she screamed insults at whatever was attacking her.

Bert saw the shot that hit her, watched her fall into the smoke and flames…

And the world turned silent as rage erupted from him in a way he had not even known possible.

Bert stepped forward, dropping into a world of snarling, scrambling undead, and burning fire. He had known anger before, even fury. He remembered the feeling, the hot rage… but he was beyond that now.

Her cry as she fell was all he heard.

He moved in a world of silence where only the echoes of her cry could be heard.

He did not drop into the tides; he was the mana tides.

Nothing stood before him. Dancing and weaving, his axe and shield flashed out, severing heads from bodies and smashing apart the fragile, half-rotted bodies. When his skin caught fire, he activated Reclaim Flesh and just left it on.

His shield was torn from his arm, and he just wrapped his arm in ice, a gauntlet of shards as sharp as razor blades did just as good a job as his axe.

Too slow it was too slow.

Bell needed him.

The mana tides cycled faster and faster as he sped up. A strobe light flashed in the burning city in moments as his mana channels blinked with the cycling tides. A white fire burned across his skin as he blurred through the streets.

Still too slow…

It was the axe; it simply wasn’t fast enough!

His prosthetic arm fought him, trying to keep a shape as he forced mana into it until it gave in, turning into an amorphous shape that shot out tendrils, killing anything that he saw.

The gates to the inner city were still closed, so he climbed them, kicking away the surviving zombies that tried to bite even as they burned. Cresting the top of the gate, he dropped into the burning street below.

“Bell!” He roared into the early morning sun as it finally lit the city.

He kept fighting, his rage undiminished as he kept hearing her cry.

A hulking abomination, burnt and blistered, shouldered its way into the street as he called.

His eyes narrowed, his prosthetic arm reforming into a hand.

Bert stalked forward silently as the abomination broke into a run. It charged towards him, and he met it head-on.

His fist slammed into it, the white fire on it burning away the dead flesh. It hissed in pain and kicked out. Bert danced back, crouching and launching forward as the surge tide roared through his veins.

The creature stumbled back as he impacted into it, the white fire that now covered his entire body flaring as it consumed the undead flesh.

He rode the dead body down to the ground and stepped off as it burned away to ash.

===============

Bell huddled in the urn and cursed the Fortress city. She was one pissed pixie. Partly because she had failed to dodge but mostly because she was afraid.

That bolt had melted her wings. She could feel the melted flesh against her back as she crouched. Worse, they were not regrowing anywhere near as fast as they should be.

“Should have just driven the Waystation over this place,” She grumbled to herself quietly.

More movement outside her urn.

She couldn’t stay here forever. It was dumb luck she fell in here in the first place. She swept her hand back and forth through the ash that had absorbed her fall. It was old and extremely dry. Her fingers brushed against a hard, smooth substance, and she pulled it free of the ash. It was crystal.

A series of growls erupted outside of her pot.

Something was coming…

==============

Bert kicked another door from the rotten hinges, pushing through as the creatures inside surged forward. His fist flew, and any survivors of the blows burned away beneath the white fire. Anything left was reclaimed, flowing into him as he stalked the city.

A series of growls came from inside a large cathedral over the road.

He turned, sprinting at the doors, shattering them as he burst through, fists flying at anything that moved.

The creatures… dodged.

Unlike their brethren in the wider city, these creatures showed signs of intelligence. They were also leaner, more agile than the regular zombies. More than that, they wore armor.

Bert ended his charge in the center of a ring of snarling faces.

A figure loomed in the shadows behind them, but Bert was busy. He exploded forward, catching one of the creatures unprepared, and tearing it apart with his bare hands before launching himself onto the next.

Bert really missed his shield. He had tried to form one from Ice, but it didn’t work. The elongated, emaciated figures attacked again, pulling at his arms and legs even as the fire burned them away.

By the time the last of them fell, he was swaying on his feet, and the white fire was starting to flicker out.

His mana channels were agony.

He pushed the thoughts away as the looming shadow moved into the light.

“Impressive, little one.” The hooded figure was almost eleven feet tall. Folds of cloth floated around it, and two lights burned in the depths of its hood. “Your body will make an excellent replacement for my guards!”

“Oh, fuck off, you overgrown bathrobe!” Bert growled, forcing more mana into his system even as it screamed in agony.

The Lich roared as it reached for him, dark mana gathering at the emaciated fingertips.

It screeched, drawing back and spinning for an old urn that sat beneath a hole in the roof.

“Did ya need this?” Bell growled as she held the crystal aloft. She grinned as she smashed it onto the edge of the urn.

The lich screamed and lunged for her, coming up short as their robe pulled taught.

It looked back, seeing Bert dragging the cloth towards him as he grinned in the center of a nova of white flame.

“You can’t do this!” It hissed as he drew it towards him. “Do you know who I am?”

“Who gives a fuck!” Bert growled as his fingers found its throat, popping the head off with a snap.

He collapsed to his knees, the white fire winking out as thought finally returned.

“Bell?”

“Yes, Bert?” She asked as she scrambled down from the pedestal the urn had sat on.

“Are you okay?” He asked gently.

“I think so.” She said, standing in front of him. “You look like shit!”

“Ha Ha,” Bert tried before passing out.

=================

Bell changed form for the first time in her life, taking a human form to catch the falling Bert. She caught his body, surprised at how heavy he was.

He didn’t look heavy. He looked like a corpse.

Burned and blackened skin stretched over muscle and bone. Not an inch of boy fat remained. His mana channels glowed even in his sleep as the remnant mana in them took time to fade away. His cheeks were sunken in, and his eyes sat deep in their sockets.

“What the fuck have you done now?” Bell growled at him. She hated it when he did this. “You can’t just ignore the way things work to power through any situation, you moron!” She hugged him to her, hissing at the heat in his body. She watched the remains of the lich pool and then flow into him.

She yelped and jumped back, Bert thumping onto the floor. She scowled at him before striding forward and slapping him awake.

“What?” He asked muzzily.

“Turn off Reclaim Flesh! Now!” She snapped.

“Okay,” He said.

The flesh stopped moving towards him.

“Now what?” She asked herself, looking around. A door led to the bell tower at the back of the church. She dragged Bert towards it, huffing at the weight. “You’re gonna have to try and stay conscious more often if you insist on not being a reasonable pixie-sized person!” Bell grunted.

It was a long way up those stairs, and twice she almost lost her grip on him.

Eventually, they made it, and she laid him on the floor and peeked out the window.

The morning light showed just how effective the bombing had been. From here, she could see the barricades down below still stood. A slow trickle of the undead was flowing toward the defenders, but it was clear the refugees had already won.

Another of Bert’s crazy ideas had worked.

And he had come through all that to save her.

Slumping to the floor, Bell pulled his head onto her lap.

“They’ll come to get us in a bit.” She stroked the bald head that the fires had left behind.

Her eyes drifted closed; it had been a hell of a long day.