The Fable of Griffon: Book 02 - Herald's Dawn, page 38
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Drenn grabbed one of the walking desecrations as it came over the rampart, swiping his great scimitar across it with a shatter of splintering bone. The dead soldier fought on regardless, scratching at him with its remaining arm and gnashing its teeth. With a roar he threw it back into the top of the ladder, the creature shattering on impact and knocking it back down to the ground far below with a loud crash.
“Hold the wall! Hold the wall!” He bellowed as the siege towers began to approach like ominous dark giants.
The onslaught was relentless, the dead giving no quarter and caring nothing for their losses or wounds. Fiercely the defenders pushed them back from the walls, slowly but surely being dragged down under weight of numbers.
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Phorest aimed and fired another blast, the tip of a siege tower smashing asunder before cascading to the ground below in flames. He glanced around, hearing strange shuffling noises on the floor around him. He recoiled in horror at the sight as the fallen Lenatethians started to rise, reaching out for them as cold blood dripped from their mouths, their lifeless eyes glowing a dull red. Even the shattered forms of the skeletons would not know peace from the conventional weapons of the defenders, seeming to return to unlife and reaching once more for their weapons.
“Griffon!” Phorest shouted in warning, drawing his sword and swiping the arm from a rising corpse as it reached up for him.
“The wards are failing!” The young king shouted back. Griffon moved like lightning, his sword sliced through the neck of another of the besiegers as it tried to drag itself over the rampart. The Lenatethians around him were fighting hard, but there was no end to their enemy, and even those that fell would often return, reinforced by those that had died to destroy them.
He wiped sweat from his brow, glancing back towards the dark army as it continued to advance. Fighting raged across the entire wall, and the noise of battle pounded in his ears. A short distance away pale, misty ghost regiments moved silently into position, waiting for the order to attack. If the wards were faltering already, the walls could not hope to stop the damned souls from merely passing through the stone as though it were mist.
“Fall back from the wall!” He cried out. “Fall back! Get to the second line!”
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Galeema ducked under another hail of arrows as fighting raged around her. She kept calm, this was an enemy her order had spent much of her training in preparation for. She prayed, an aura of light dancing about her, curling around her arms before seeming to coalesce over the back of her hands like two great oval shields. Charging forward she threw her arm ahead, the disc of light flying out from her and spreading like a great burst of warm sunshine. The skeletons seemed to reach up to the skies as if crying out in pain before dissolving to dust upon the floor.
Another suddenly leapt out at her, its axe smashing down against her remaining shield with a crackle of energy. She was knocked back, her breath taken by the force of the blow. It attacked again, opening its mouth as if in battlecry though no sound emerged. She ducked aside, its blade striking the hard wall with a shower of sparks. Twisting she punched forward with the shield, crashing it through the creature’s spine and sending it falling to the ground as a disintegrating pile of ash.
“Seth! Help me!” She called out, falling back from the wall as three more ladders rose up against the ramparts, skeletal warriors stepping forward with murderous intent.
Seth span his sword in a wide arc slashing it neatly across the top of battlements. The ladders there were knocked aside even as his enchantments tore the magic that bound the evil creatures from their bodies. He moved quickly, bringing the blades flat against him like a shield as another volley of dark arrows rained against them. The moment they finished he crashed the sword down against Galeema’s attacker as it knocked her shield of light aside. It fell apart under the force of impact, clattering noisily to the ground.
“Are you all right?” He asked Galeema, taking a moment to catch his breath as the cleric nodded. The clatter of two more ladders caught their attention, more of the creatures stepping up to fight.
“There’s no end to these things!” He shouted, bringing his sword back around and through two more of the creatures as they leapt over the battlement, throwing their shattering bones back into their dark army. He heard the shout for retreat, glancing towards the command tower as the bells rang.
“About bloody time!” He muttered as another volley of rocks from the catapults crashed into the enemy in a thunderous cascade of stone.
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Shump watched the door coldly as whatever lay outside pounded against it, the doors many bolts were holding well under the regular bombardment. The heavy crashes of a battering ram shook the very structure of the gatehouse with every blow, but it held on defiantly. The alarms began to sound as the surviving defenders began to pull back from the walls into the city. Dabilo looked up to him from where she stood beside.
“Shouldn’t we be leaving too?” She asked him.
Shump waited for a moment, listening carefully. “The knocking against the door has stopped.”
“Your point being? They don’t need the door! We are evacuating the wall!” She pleaded, pulling against his arm where it hung by his side.
“I think you might be right…” Shump said quietly as he began to back slowly away. The skeletons didn’t seem to be following the defenders as they fell back, instead just lining up along the wall, facing down at them like terrible guardsmen.
Suddenly a strange mist seemed to grow about the door and the base of the wall. Slowly it grew stronger and thicker, the enchanted seals upon the door glowing fiercely as they fought to stave off the ethereal spirits that sought entry. One by one the seals faded and died, falling away until nothing remained. The mists coiled around the door, and even as Shump watched figures were emerging from within the gate itself, passing slowly through the wall in their hundreds. Their skeletal faces glared out from forgotten helms, damned souls eager to taste the warmth of the living as their spectral banners gleamed in the dim light. They marched through the wall as if it were nothing, pausing for a moment to consolidate before pursuing the defenders through the city with a ponderous and inevitable pace.
“Time to go.” Shump sneered, brandishing his axe defensively as he pulled back. He glanced round only to find Dabilo was already halfway up the main cobbled road. The spirit horde followed steadily, preceded by the strange scuttling skulls that scrabbled about the cobbles.
Wolven rushed past Shump and Dabilo as the two of them ran up the main street. “Move!” He shouted to them as he passed, he and his wolves running like a wind. “They are faster than they look!”
“What’s the damage?” Shump asked him, trying to keep his breathing paced.
“Could be worse, but we didn’t even make a dent!” He called back as he ran on, shouting for other hidden defenders to fall back to the second line of defense.
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Griffon and the two Shian rushed into the second courtyard through its twinned gate, followed by the scattered remains of the first lines defenders. The walls here had been blessed in their entirety and were much stronger. They could hold here far better with luck. He saw Arroganen some distance away directing the catapults with his usual swagger, the light gleaming off his ridiculously over decorated helm. Turning back to the gate, he began directing the defenders through it and pointing them either to the third line or to hold the wall. Phorest took position by the metal lined gates, his bow gleaming as he aimed past the fleeing defenders and into the oncoming mass.
Leaf stopped beside the elder elf as he stood looking down the long open road, his bow ready. Already the mists of the ghostly regiments seemed to approach through the walls of the far buildings, ensnaring those too slow to outrun them.
“I…I have never seen anything like it!” Leaf exclaimed. “How can we defeat an enemy that won’t die?”
Griffon glanced to her, but kept quiet, focusing on bringing the survivors into the relative safety of the second line. Phorest remained stern, his concentration kept on the edge of the road. “They die easily enough.” He murmured. “Keep your weapon blessed, use the water the shamans gave you.” Leaf glanced down to the water pouch at her side. “It doesn’t last long and won’t work for certain if one of their leaders is nearby, but if you see one of the greater wraiths you are to run. Do I make myself clear?”
Leaf hesitated, seeming surprised at the harsh tone in Phorest’s voice.
“Leaf! Do you understand?” Phorest repeated firmly. Leaf nodded, pouring a small amount of water over her stave.
“Where is Balix?” She asked him.
“He’ll get here if he survived. Go inside, quickly!” Phorest answered, hurrying her along even as she hesitated.
“As you wish.” She whispered, casting one last glance back before Griffon brought her into the courtyard. Another round of flaming projectiles raced overhead, crashing into the buildings with explosive force as the runes upon the stones ignited upon impact. Ghostly figures scattered amidst the flames but more followed, an endless wave of malice.
“The gate must be closed soon.” Phorest warned, firing a shot through the wash of smoke and flame. “I will cover the retreat as long as I can.”
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Seth caught his breath, leaning back against the stone wall with his hands upon his knees as he let the ache in his muscles subside. The enchantments were wearing thin but he barely had breath enough to reinforce them after the run. He took a long swig of the winesack at his side before closing his eyes and whispering the words. The runes blazed again, reinvigorating his limbs and blade. With a long sigh he wiped the sweat from his brow before walking up to the second lines rampart. Dozens of defenders were rushing about around him, some barking orders in their harsh dialects. He looked down at the outer wall as the skeleton regiments over ran it like an army of insects.
“So many.” He turned to the voice at his side, seeing Apex resting upon his staff as he looked on in horror.
“What now?” Seth asked the old man. “Your shamans blessings didn’t amount to much.”
“The warriors had blessed their weapons, it is not enough.” Apex said despairingly. “We cannot win this fight without greater help.”
Seth frowned. “Not like a Lenatethian to admit defeat.”
“Not like a Geranodorian to deny it.”
He didn’t answer, clutching his sword all the tighter as he returned his attention to the reforming ranks of the dead at the base of the city. “Keep that thought to yourself old man. We aren’t dead yet.”
“It may not be long.” Seth looked back to him, surprised at how old the shaman suddenly seemed.
“I thought Lenatethians were supposed to long for a glorious death against impossible odds?”
“I would prefer kinder odds.” Apex admitted.
“Then at least die gloriously enough to let me escape first.”
“Now that sounds like a Geranodorian.”Apex straightened, looking out towards the wall. “You’re right Eastling.” He turned towards Seth, his eyes stronger. “Keep the men fighting here, and I will get them the help they need.”
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With an ominous double boom the twin gates closed tightly, locks and supports dropped into place as archers and javelineers raced to the walls amidst the last of the shamans. A great shield of coalesced energy rose up over the wall like a bubble, fragile and brittle but enough to dissuade further attempts by the wraiths and their kin. The walls were already thrice blessed, and recently so, and were strong with thick granite - enough to scatter the spells of even the strongest wizard and prevent any ethereal from passing through it unhindered.
The Geranodorian catapults did not halt their fire, continuing to rain down against the dark horde as it advanced mercilessly towards them. The buildings of the city seemed to almost come alive with the presence of the dark forces that presided around them, long lost souls haunting their walls, ghosts and forgotten myths reaching up at the call of their new master. Shadowy faces appeared in the walls, objects moved without aid and ghostlights played within what had once been warm and welcoming homes. As the bell rang every dark spirit, every half remembered ghost, every embittered soul came to the mortal world once more, in one way or another, to answer the dead city’s call.
The skeleton regiments marched uncaring of the casualties the catapults inflicted, ignoring the intimidating walls ahead. Their banners were held high as dark shadows shifted among them. The shades suddenly raced forward, playing across the walls great blessed dome of force like a summer dance, swirling and sweeping, seeking any weakness in the magical defence the shamans so desperately tried to hold.
The ghostwalkers that remained among the defenders watched with bitterness from the ramparts as the spirits of those who they had sought to avenge came forth among the dark horde to destroy them, whispering all the while for them to turn, to complete the journey they had begun.
To all others the chilling whispers spoke of other things, of fears and guilts, of horrors and memories, offering a place for them where such fears were meaningless, offering them a place within the army of Domorr and the quiet rest of the grave.
The ghostly regiments stopped their march just at the edge of the killing zone before the defence. They stood silent as shapes moved through the ranks, whispering shadows that visibly chilled the air and stone about their passage, a trail of frost in their wake. Fell wraiths, the dark generals of Domorr.
Four of the creatures stepped forward from the skeletal horde, their ethereal forms ignoring the infrequent barrages of stone from the Geranodorian artillery. They stood in a line before the walls, just ahead of their forces. A fifth seemed to emerge from the shadows about them, sliding forward over the cobbled path without a sound. Long arms stretched from its sides, ending in great pale claws with unnaturally long fingers. A great cowl covered its face, nothing more than a shadowed darkness dominated by two pale blue eyes. The creature’s cloak seemed to stretch up around it, arcing back from the floor as it moved like the blossom of some black funerary flower. It advanced a short distance into the first killing field, a stretch of clear and wide cobbles between the city buildings and the second wall.
With a short hiss it looked up towards the defenders arrayed across the wall, and almost immediately the lesser wraiths and shades fell back once more to the cover of the buildings, leaving the air chilled so much that the barbarians of the desert plains could see their breath misting in the air.
“Surrender and serve in life. Resist and serve in death.” It spoke with a terrible rasp like that of a wet sword being run across a metal fence.
Drenn stepped forward among the defenders glaring down at the creature with utter contempt. “Burn in hell!” He shouted down to it, before spitting over the rampart towards the monster.
The fell wraith lifted its hand, pointing towards the wall. Moving as one, the legions advanced. The recently fallen made the first wave, their shattered bodies now subservient to the will of the Dead city. Drenn sneered in contempt as he watched men and women he had known as friends, servants and warriors lurch towards his walls as enemies and monsters.
“Show no mercy!”
Powerful shortbows unleashed a steady volley. Heavy tipped javelins, weighted and strong, were flung down at the monsters below as shades and shadows continued to swarm close to the wall, trying to find a weakness in its magical defenses, draining their strength slowly with the chilling caress of their cold fingers.
The fell wraiths stood still, watching with vague interest as the zombies and skeletons fell to the defenders, bones shattering or the magic animating them ripped away. The terrible creature gave a wave of its hand, causing the shamans upon the wall to shiver noticeably. Slowly, as though awaking from a deep slumber, a great number of the fallen clambered again to their feet, endlessly throwing themselves at the foot of the wall around the gatehouse.
“Keep them back! Keep them back!” Drenn shouted over the wall as the whistle of arrows echoed. The undead had brought none of their own siege equipment from the front lines. Instead they raced against the wall in an unending mass, climbing over the bodies of their fallen as they piled at the base of the wall like burial mounds.
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Phorest aimed and fired, a volley of small blasts roaring through the skeletal ranks. “What are they doing? They aren’t even trying to climb the wall.”
Leaf threw the javelin she held, glancing up to the ambassador. “I don’t know.” She answered honestly, looking around. “There!” She said suddenly, pointing towards the far end of the main road, a plume of dust was already rising from the outer wall some distance behind.
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Griffon walked along the rampart, moving behind the line of Lenatethians as they threw off the enemy. He looked past them. Something did not add up. He had been sure to check the chances of any attempt at undermining, but the city was built upon extremely solid rock, particularly towards the inner defenses. Any attempt to do such a thing would be severely hampered, perhaps even completely impossible. There was something else afoot here.
He stopped, trying to block out the noise of the shouts and battle cries of the barbarians as they continued to throw whatever they had against the skeletal horde. More and more regiments continued to advance from the streets, seemingly endless ranks of the dead ready to assault the walls. The shattered bones and bodies of their fellows were left at the base of the wall in their hundreds, slowly piling up as the next regiment simply used them as a stepping stone to get closer, a growing rampway of bones and flesh slowly building beneath their feet.
A dull boom of crashing masonry in the distance caught his attention, bringing his gaze to the West, far from the drive of the undead assault. A new plume of dust rose from the wall, something having broken through. Another low crash, barely audible over the noise, could be heard as a number of buildings near it fell down.
