[https://i.imgur.com/iY5oJHJ.png]

Chapter 4

24th Day, Middle Wind Month, 1 CE

“Thirty more warbands just arrived from the south,” a runner said from the stairwell, “where should we send them?”

“Il-Enoweli’s people?” Il-Enrenatha asked.

“No, il-Enghkor’s clan from the southwest.”

“Use some of the space set aside for il-Enoweli. What else?”

“More clans are coming in from all over the south. It’s getting crowded out there.”

“Keep using up il-Enoweli’s spots,” il-Enrenatha told the runner.

The runner nodded and disappeared into the stairwell. Il-Enrenatha turned his attention back over the battlements, staring out into the darkness.

“Il-Enoweli will be furious when he arrives,” Sage Khhschlr said from beside him. “He’s going to be forced to camp in the fields at this rate.”

“Il-Enoweli isn’t here,” il-Enrenatha didn't look away from the surroundings. “Il-Enghkor is. That applies to everyone else arriving, as well. We do not have the luxury of reserving accommodations as if we were entertaining visitors – the Undead will attack before the morning.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because it’s my job to know.”

He didn’t bother explaining himself. In the future, if ever someone appeared before him and claimed to be a Sage, he would keep them away from anything important; preferably far away. To be certain, Khhschlr’s knowledge was vast, but she only applied that knowledge selectively.

When they had first met, she impressed everyone she encountered, offering information and ideas from her travels that saw promise in their then-still-in-planning conquest of the Draconic Kingdom. Combined with Kal’il-Endratha, they seemed like the perfect combination.

Now, however, she was practically useless. War was not her area of expertise and her inquisitive nature turned her into an obstacle more than anything else. The only reason why he allowed her to accompany him was to make sure she couldn’t influence the warrior clans with her ‘wisdom’. A pitched battle was no place for radical, untested ideas based on loose threads of knowledge.

For the Sage’s part, she appeared content with being exposed to important goings-on. Her attempts at being helpful were just something he had to suffer through.

“Il-Enrenatha.”

A female voice drew his attention to the stairwell again.

“Thurgakhr,” he gestured in welcome. “Thank you for coming.”

“I should really be down there with the other warriors…”

She lingered at the top of the stairs, her stance hesitant. Il-Enrenatha beckoned for her to come forward.

“I mean no slight,” he said, “but your role as an advisor is far more valuable to those conducting the defence of the city than having another warrior on the field.”

“The clans have been fighting for weeks now,” Thurgakhr replied, “so they should know as much as me, if not more.”

“Of the Undead that showed themselves, perhaps. Reports suggest that the powerful Undead you spoke of have finally appeared.”

Thurgakhr visibly wilted at his words. Once again, he wondered about her experiences. She shared them with il-Enrenatha and the other Clanlords on multiple occasions, yet her demeanour continued to indicate that words alone were insufficient to describe everything she had experienced.

“How many?” The young warrior asked.

“The reports come from groups that are too far apart to be spotting the same thing. They’ve mingled into the general throng of Undead, so it’s difficult to say how many there are.”

“I haven’t seen them do that before. Did the reports mention any Elder Liches flying around?”

“I’m not sure,” il-Enrenatha looked back down the western road again. “We’ve issued instructions to keep an eye out for what you’ve described, but the night serves as an ally of the Undead in more ways than one.”

Spotting a flying individual cloaked in black in an overcast night sky was about as difficult as it sounded. The enemy appeared to understand the limitations of Darkvision, though that may have been a given since Undead had Darkvision themselves. What they didn’t have, however, was hunters, so how they puzzled out what their scouts were capable of detecting was a mystery.

“They will be destroyed as soon as they show themselves,” Sage Khhschlr waved a dismissive paw. “We have so many hunters defending this clanhold that mere Elder Liches stand no chance.”

“It’s not as if they fly up and greet you before blowing you up,” Thurgakhr's ear twitched. “Every time they’ve struck, it’s been completely by surprise.”

“They’re magic casters,” the Sage said, “so they’re probably using something like invisibility. Their tactics may have worked well against the civilian clans, but our hunters are more than good enough to detect their approach.”

Il-Enrenatha remained silent throughout the exchange. The two females did not get along at all. The fault lay almost entirely with Sage Khhschlr, who saw Thurgakhr as someone who had stepped into her arena, which was ‘knowledge’. The younger Nar had information that the Sage did not, so Khhschlr was feeling jealous, threatened, or both.

It also didn’t help that Thurgakhr was from a family of nar Ki’ra that was known for its Bards. Bards and Sages were both recognised for their knowledge, but Bards had a place in every tribe while Sages were seen as eccentrics.

“Have they ever come low enough for warriors to strike at directly?” He asked.

“No,” Thurgakhr replied, “they let the Undead on the ground do almost all of the fighting. The Elder Liches act like carrion birds, waiting for the opportunity to pick out choice morsels.”

During their invasion of the Draconic Kingdom, il-Enrenatha had faced his fair share of magic casters. No matter how powerful they seemed, they ceased being a problem once he got his claws into them. Unlike Human mages, however, the Elder Liches seemed wary enough that they wouldn’t ever give his warriors the same chance. Generally, it was proper to respect a shrewd adversary, but, in this case, their behaviour was annoying.

After piecing together Thurgakhr's disjointed and confused accounts of the fighting in the west, il-Enrenatha was fairly certain that the principal limitations that he had observed of other magic casters still applied to Elder Liches. Spells tended to be very specific and limited in their effect, and recovering mana wasn’t anywhere near as quick as catching one’s breath. Thus, a magic caster who presented a grave threat against small numbers was little more than a pest when they didn’t have the time to act at their leisure.

Instead of being a force unto themselves, they were striking opportunistically to maximise the effectiveness of the Undead on the ground. It was those ground forces that were doing the majority of the work in their broad advance across the Draconic Kingdom. If the hunters could deal with the Elder Liches, it would turn the battle into a purely terrestrial one and simplify things significantly.

“Report!” A runner’s voice came up the stairwell before she came into sight, “Undead have been spotted to the south and southwest!”

“Which way are they going?” Il-Enrenatha asked.

“They’re coming straight toward the city.”

That should be the last of the withdrawing warbands, then…

“Are the Undead moving to join the ones gathered west of the city?”

“They’re too far away to know for sure,” the runner said, “but the Lords commanding the southern approaches think they may be trying to encircle us.”

“That’s a welcome bit of news, if so,” il-Enrenatha said.

“Welcome?” Sage Khhschlr blinked. “How is being encircled welcome? The boats we sent to the north bank never returned. We’ll be trapped!”

The Sage’s worried tone rose with every phrase. He resisted the urge to sigh. After sitting in on weeks of strategic and tactical analysis, she still didn't understand something so simple? Even a novice tactician would immediately realise that the Undead had erred, and only a fool interrupted an enemy in the midst of making a mistake.

“The strength of the Undead advance has been in the sheer weight of their numbers,” il-Enrenatha told her. “They are voluntarily spreading their lines thin by attempting an encirclement. We have hundreds of warbands present and they will be able to strike anywhere they please much more easily than if the Undead had concentrated their forces. If necessary, we can easily break through.”

He turned his attention back to the runner.

“The Undead have been free to do as they please, but no more. It’s about time they fought an enemy with real teeth. We’re going on the offensive.”

“What?!”

Both Thurgakhr and the runner jumped at Khhschlr’s near shriek.

“Tell il-Enkimb to let the Undead perform their encirclement,” il-Enrenatha continued. “When their lines are drawn thin, tear them apart.”

“Understood, il-Enrenatha.”

The runner left. Il-Enrenatha leaned out over the battlements, shouting down to the Lords below.

“Ready the warbands! We bring the battle to the enemy!”

Tens of thousands of warriors roused as orders sounded along the walls and over the field. They gathered into their respective warbands, their snarls and roars of anticipation sounding over the incessant rain.

“Your people are attacking, too?” Thurgakhr asked.

“That depends,” il-Enrenatha answered. “The Undead forces in the west may respond to il-Enkimb’s sortie to the south, so I’m moving my forces to keep them in check. Going by what we’ve seen so far, they may not care at all or arbitrarily respond despite the threat presented to them. Our enemies are sluggish in thought and reaction, so many opportunities should present themselves to those with the will and courage to seize the initiative.”

Despite their steady advance, he still felt that the Undead were lacking in several significant aspects. Perhaps it was due to their nature. The vast majority of their adversaries were mindless and their tactics were simple. Their strategy revolved around consuming what lay ahead of them like a teeming wave of vermin. Whatever intellect directed them seemed devoid of individuality and ingenuity. It wouldn’t be a stretch to say that any intelligence within the Undead forces was exercised in service to the voracious will of the whole.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

They were more a force of nature than anything else, and their behaviour was just as single-minded as any elemental spirit. Just as a Fire Elemental sought to consume anything that would burn in its flames, the Undead sought to consume the living.

Il-Enrenatha came down out of the tower to join the rear of his army and, one by one, the leaders of each clan reported their readiness. To the south, he could already hear il-Enkimb sounding his advance.

“Advance to within three kilometres of the Undead in the west!” His voice cut through the downpour, “Be ready to move if they do.”

Fifty thousand Beastman warriors marched into the darkness, trampling the fields of spring grain. Runners came in every few minutes, reporting the findings of each clan’s scouts. As expected, the Undead hadn’t reacted to their manoeuvres yet.

“Advance to one kilometre. Hunters can go ahead and start skirmishing.”

Each runner that came in went back out with his new instructions. He was too far to hear it, but he could imagine the tens of thousands of bullets whistling through the rain.

Over their weeks of testing the Undead across the front, his forces’ tactics had been refined to the point of being reliable routines. Aside from a handful of reports, all the enemies before them were familiar and he was confident that breaking the Undead forces in the coming battle would be the beginning of the end for them.

In a way, he was glad for their appearance. The conquest of the Draconic Kingdom had been unexpectedly lacking in the way of challenges and they had far too many migrants to support. Sage Khhschlr’s proposal to accommodate them by crossing the sea felt reckless, at best. Now, they would be able to properly consolidate their gains without a food crisis looming over their heads. With victory over their dread foe in hand, they could even retain the confidence of the migrants and their supporters in Rol’en’gorek despite the loss of the Warmaster.

“Il-Enrenatha, the skirmishers are reporting a fog forming in the west! We’re not sure if our ranged attacks are hitting anything or not.”

He craned his neck to see over the warbands ahead of him, but it was still too dark to register anything beyond the range of his Darkvision.

“Are the Undead doing anything?”

“As far as we can tell, they’re still inside somewhere. The fog is slowly travelling east.”

Against the wind? It seems that the Undead have a new trick…or maybe they’ve been keeping it in reserve for something like this.

“Is there some sort of spell that does that?” He asked one of his nearby mystics.

“Yes,” she nodded. “The Second-tier spell Fog Cloud. It should only affect a small area, however.”

Il-Enrenatha looked at the runner.

“It’s across the entire field,” the runner said.

“That should be impossible,” the mystic furrowed her brow. “How wide is this fog bank, exactly? Fog Cloud has a set radius, so we may be able to estimate how many enemy casters there are.”

“I-I’m not sure. All we know is that it’s covering the area where the Undead are.”

“How large is this ‘set radius’?” Il-Enrenatha asked.

“Roughly twelve metres across.”

Only twelve? If that’s the case…

“Cease skirmishing!” He ordered, “Hunters, keep an eye on the skies! We’re pulling back!”

The Undead line in the west was at least a kilometre across. A hundred Elder Liches were far more problematic than the handful of potential sightings that were reported.

“Were there hundreds of Elder Liches when you came from the northwest?”

“Not that I saw,” Thurgakhr replied. “There were always at least a couple flying around where I was, though.”

“The fog bank may also be the result of multiple casts of Fog Cloud,” the mystic added.

“Our skirmishers aren’t going to be hitting anything regardless,” il-Enrenatha said. “There’s no reason to put them at risk blindly flinging stones into that.”

They withdrew half a kilometre, waiting to see if the Undead would come out. He sent a few people to see whether il-Enkimb was encountering the same magic.

“Report!” A voice came from behind him, “Report from the city! The Undead have appeared on the far side!”

“The far side as in east of the walls?”

“That’s right. The defenders in the city are asking for instructions.”

Since the Undead were coming from the west, the east side of the city was poorly defended. Moreover, how the Undead had appeared there was an even greater concern.

“What type of Undead were spotted?” Il-Enrenatha asked.

“The same as usual,” the runner answered. “They’re not going very fast, so we don’t expect them to connect with the other end of the encirclement for an hour or two.”

“Speaking of which, do you know how il-Enkimb is doing?”

“Uh…he went all-out, I think. You could hear the fighting all the way from the southern wall.”

Il-Enrenatha nodded. At least that part was going as planned. As long as they kept the Undead separated and manageable, all they had to do was wait until il-Enkimb finished his front and pivoted to join the next.

“Take the defenders on the southern wall and send them to reinforce the east. Move the forces on the western wall to the port.”

“The port?”

“Those Undead in the east had to have come from the water,” il-Enrenatha said. “If they enter the port through the river, the civilians will be slaughtered. Oh, and if you see anyone reporting from il-Enkimb’s side, tell him to come west when he’s done. This fog is perfect for setting up a pincer attack.”

The runner went on his way. Thurgakhr looked up at him.

“Even with so many Undead,” she said, “you’re so calm.”

“It does no one any good if a Lord panics,” he told her. “We’re far from a pitched battle, besides.”

His forces maintained an orderly withdrawal before the fog, crossing back over the former three-kilometre mark. The rain receded to a drizzle, allowing the sounds of distant battle to finally reach their ears.

“Il-Enkimb doesn’t sound very close,” he said. “I hope my runners got to him…”

“Something’s going on in the city,” one of the fresh runners waiting to deliver orders said.

“Something as in ‘fighting’? Frolicking?”

“It just started. Fighting. Panic.”

Il-Enrenatha peered toward the still-distant wall, waiting for a sign from the people stationed on the towers. A torch appeared a minute later, creating a point of light that waved back and forth.

“Well, damn,” he said. “We’re pulling back! There’s trouble inside the city.”

He was halfway through dividing his forces between defending the wall and helping out in the city when a cow landed on a nearby warband with a thump.

“That was a cow, right?” Sage Khhschlr asked.

Il-Enrenatha looked up into the pitch darkness.

“What was the angle on that?” He shouted.

“Came in from straight above!” Came the reply, “It’s an Undead Beast!”

Fog. Falling cows. What was next?

A sturgeon smacked into the ground in front of them. The warriors around it stared as it flopped around. It flopped its way over to the nearest group, then tried to bite a curious Ocelo that came closer to inspect it.

An assortment of zombified animals started to rain from the sky. Il-Enrenatha shook his head.

“Spread out and get moving!” He told them, “Cover the mystics!”

The rearmost warbands broke from the rest and ran for the gate. Il-Enrenatha and his retinue joined them. By the time they got to the city, civilians were rushing in every direction, carrying children and what few belongings they could. He grabbed a female Lup by the shoulder and spun her around to face him.

“What’s going on here?”

“The Undead are in the city! They got past the warriors in the port like they were nothing!”

A shriek sounded from a nearby alley. An Ocelo stumbled out, nearly falling on his face before dashing away in fright. Behind him, Undead Nar shambled out of a nearby alley. Il-Enrenatha’s warriors pounced on the thing, then dispersed to search for more while directing the fleeing citizens to the city gate.

“What do they look like?” Thurgakhr asked the Lup still under il-Enrenatha's paw.

“L-look? Ehm…like Human warriors, maybe? But they’re as tall as us! I saw one cut through three warriors in a single stroke!”

Il-Enrenatha released the civilian, who dashed past the arriving warriors without another word. His gaze went to Sage Khhschlr.

“Stay out of the fighting,” he told her. “We need to contain this before it gets any worse.”

They left the Sage behind. Thurgakhr's steps grew hesitant as more civilians ran by and the clash of battle drew near.

“That’s probably them,” she said. “The ones I spoke about. I-I couldn’t even tell how strong they were.”

“Do they have any weaknesses?” Il-Enrenaha asked.

“They’re not all the same. I saw two types: one armoured from head to toe; the other was in lighter armour – something like tattered hides. The lightly-armoured one had all sorts of weapons. It’s probably the one she mentioned cutting through multiple warriors at a time."

He turned to address his warband.

“You heard her,” he said. “Pick off the lightly-armoured ones first. Get rid of everything as quickly as possible or we’re going to be caught between their two forces.”

Another group of civilians ran by. A dull metallic tread sounded from around the corner.

“Go!” He commanded his warband, “Thurgakhr, go with Khhschlr. You clearly haven’t gotten over your experiences yet.”

His warriors rushed forward. An unearthly howl sounded, echoing off of the buildings on either side. Il-Enrenatha ran in just behind his warriors, finding a monstrosity of black armour barring their way. Behind them was a more lightly armoured Undead figure.

“That one first!” He called out, “Take it down, quick! Harden your defences!”

If it could cut three warriors down with a single stroke, it would be the most powerful Undead yet. His retinue did as instructed, going wide around the first Undead’s undulating blade. A few steps later, they all turned to face the first Undead.

“Snap out of it!” Il-Enrenatha roared.

The warriors turned away and started to move again. The Undead prepared to lunge at one of them, but Il-Enrenatha let out a roar of challenge.

“Don’t think you’re the only one that can taunt!” He said as he stepped back from the shield that swung toward him in response.

Beyond his adversary, one of his warriors was cut in half at the waist. Three more took advantage of the opening to score telling blows that shredded its light armour apart. Il-Enrenatha nodded to himself, then batted aside a thrust from his opponent.

Huh?

The thrust reversed into a draw cut. He caught the blade in his claws.

It’s weak?

Not that it was genuinely weak, but, for all of its imposing appearance, it didn’t have the power behind its strikes to match. He used his free arm to slash at the Undead warrior, imbuing the attack with several Martial Arts. Claws on metal screeched as it brought its shield up to block his attack. Il-Enrenatha released the sword and stepped lightly to the side as it tried to bull-rush him.

Offensively, it’s weak. Defensively, I’ve never seen anything like it.

No, that wasn’t right. One of Kal’il-Endratha’s assassins was fairly close. This Undead creature was surely an invincible foe against lesser opponents, but against those closer to its calibre, the flaws of focusing on defence were clear.

Another unearthly howl filled the air as il-Enrenatha stepped back from a set of furious swings. Reinforce Hide felt sufficient to stop even its strongest attacks. With that in mind, he went on the offensive.

“「Ability Boost」, 「Focus Battle Aura」, 「Sundering Strikes」.”

Chips flew from sword and shield as he unleashed a barrage of powerful slashes. The first thing he needed to do was shatter his opponent’s shell. The Undead’s counterattacks came predictably, and il-Enrenatha came out of the exchange unharmed. He didn’t pause, however, leaping back in to draw a furrow through the metal of one of the Undead being’s black bracers, then crossing over to ring its helmet.

He snorted as the thing only grew more furious. At least there was a bit of personality in there.

A powerful overhand swing put a paw-sized dent in the tower shield, and then il-Enrenatha jerked as a black bolt buried itself in his shoulder. He avoided the next set of the shield-bearer’s attacks while looking around, blood soaking the fur of his arm. Past his opponent, dozens of bodies and body parts littered the street.

His entire warband was dead. It had barely been a minute.

Sibilant whispers slithered through the air. A dark glow washed over his opponent, and il-Enrenatha’s eyes narrowed as he watched what damage he had inflicted reverse itself. Another dark figure appeared further down the street, followed by several more.

Just how many of these things are there?

A low growl filled his throat. If there were so many powerful Undead, what was the point of all the skirmishing the Undead forces had suffered so far? So much time that they could have used to advance; so many Undead destroyed, for what? Unless…

They were testing us the entire time!

For the first time that night, il-Enrenatha felt a cold sliver of fear piercing the depths of his being. Behind the horrors standing before him was something far worse. The Elder Liches; whatever these things were…they were merely pieces to put into play. A malevolent will looked down on their struggles as nothing more than knowledge to be gleaned, observing; experimenting. One that gave nothing, while at the same time taking everything.