Chapter 278 - City of the Dead

Another long chapter today and this time it's on time!!!

Vamir’s sword blazed with silver light as he called upon his blessings of motion to their fullest. Fighting in line with other hunters did not fit particularly well with his speciality, but with all the blessings of the Chosen around him giving him strength, he had never felt more at home. It fuelled him and the others as they fought to hold the Temple of the Lake, keeping them strong for the enemy to come.

And come they did. It seemed no matter how many they killed, two more would take their place. With Ado and the keepers gone, it was a losing fight. Not even Elder Rena’s powers were enough for them to stand forever.

All they could do was hold. Hold for whatever time they could.

In the distance, the monolith of shadow stirred at the black clouds of the sky, and a flash of brilliant blue lit up the clouds and a bolt of lightning split the darkness. A flash of hope. Ado had said he’d find the lich there, and now Keeper Yunillia had followed them.

They were fighting out there. Fighting for home. All Vamir had to do was his part in making sure home was still there when they got back. They would hold Drakalyn until then.

While he still drew breath, Drakalyn would not fall.

***

Ashera stepped forward, raising a hand toward the purple fire. Yellow essence pulsed in the air before her. The air shuddered, a tremor ran through Hump’s body. The walls and floor before Ashera cracked and the purple flame was blasted back. As it struck the skeletal dragon, her rider, Irila’s general, flashed with essence. The fire dissipated to embers on the wind, gone the moment it made contact.

“Push them back!” Yunillia commanded. “We must breach the palace.”

All at once, the world turned to a whirlwind of noise and movement. Itris and Aurora bounded past Ashera to meet the skeletal dragon, working together to force it back with claws and teeth. From Aurora’s back, Finnian engaged Irila’s general, wielding his giant two-handed sword to hurl storm winds at the armoured figure.

Their swords clashed, glistening silver against the darkest black. Yet Hump spotted a glint of golden light near the hilt, glimmering up the length of the black knight’s black—a pair of wings and a sceptre—the crest of Lady Light herself. Which likely made this champion of Irila a former Chosen of the goddess.

Arrows hissed behind Hump, and he turned to see black rain descending from the sky.

He hammered his staff against the ground. The runes along the shaft came alight with blue essence. The crystal focus—the heart of the Tree of Damnation—kindled with his power, then gleamed brightly.

“Shield,” Hump shouted.

A barrier of essence formed before him. He shaped it into a large half-dome, protecting their rear. Before it had even fully formed, he spread channels of essence in a crisscross pattern over the spell, reinforcing it. The arrows struck with a pitter-patter. There had to be hundreds, if not thousands. Many fell to the sides, thwacking against the stone floor around them. Even more struck his shield. A hum filled the air as it was riddled with impacts, ripples of essence pulsing across it. Then the arrows clattered to the ground.

“Can you hold it until we’re inside?” Ashera asked him.

“I’ve got this,” Hump said, gritting his teeth as he fed his spell more fuel.

“Once we’re inside, I will block the way,” Ashera said.

“Move forward together,” Yunillia shouted, following behind the two dragons, her spear in hand. “Celaine, watch Hump.”

“On it.”

Hump walked backward carefully, taking each step one at a time. He slipped, almost feeling on one with a jagged crack in it, but Celaine caught his shoulder, keeping him on his feet. His heart raced.

Don’t bloody stumble, he told himself, not letting his Shield fall. Celaine remained right beside him. She had her bow and was loosing arrows toward the palace, all the while ensuring Hump didn’t lose his way.

“More enemies inside,” Finnian shouted from atop Aurora. “We’re going to have to fight our way through.”

Skeletons rushed up the stairs behind Hump. He expanded his shield to encompass the entirety of the great stone stairway, until it reached a span of perhaps ten strides across. The horde raced up behind them, covering the stairs and the courtyard entirely. The ruined walls that surrounded the grounds were flooded by more undead as they came from all across the city, pouring in and over the walls wherever they could. The crowd packed in closer, surging forward in an ivory tide. Many were nothing but bones and essence. Others had armour and weapons. There were spectral figures amongst them, ghouls, and gods knew what else hidden in the mass. They threw themselves at Hump’s Shield with complete abandon. Essence poured from him as he fought to keep it maintained, climbing the stairs a constant distraction.

Focus, focus, step. Focus, focus, step.

Bit by bit, he made his way higher. Already he could feel the cold burn of essence use, but he didn’t feel himself weakening. His dragon blood filled him with heat, his soul blazed, and the Drums of the Hunt pounded at the beat of his heart. Even with such a broad spell and against so many foes, he felt strong.

The light of blessings went off behind him as the others fought on. He felt exposed. He wanted to look back, but he forced himself to concentrate on his part of the fight. These lesser undead were weak, but in numbers such as these they would no doubt overwhelm them. The tide had to be stemmed.

***

Celaine ducked a twisting orb of red power as it flew at her from within the palace, spinning through the air like a thrown ball. Figures filled the room inside—shadows in the dimly lit room, but she could make out enough with her eyes. They emerged from the interior balcony and ground floor doors. Searching through them, she found the man targeting her. He was a small man in the robes of Irila’s apprentices, with pale and sunken skin that stretched over his cheekbones as if all life had been drained from him.

That same red spell built in the palm of his hand as he bent his elbow for another attack. The man chanted something. Ribbons of red essence churned around it, coalescing into a dense ball of light. Celaine let her blessings course through her. The figure flashed red in her vision as she marked him with Relentless Pursuit, her latest blessing. His heart pulsed to her eyes, clear as if he’d worn a target on his chest. Hunters Instinct gave her strength and speed, and made it feel as if time had slowed down. She heard the Drums of the Hunt in her ears, and felt Owalyn with her as she nocked an arrow on her bowstring. Silver light glinted in the head, and then it shone bright and cold.

It was all one smooth motion, as if she herself was the bow. Her body went taut, arching as she pulled the string back to its apex, then calmly, she unfurled her fingers. The arrow shot forward and a blinding flash of silver sprang up.

The man’s mouth froze, his chant coming to a stop. The red ball of power whizzed away uncontrollably, exploding in a blast of dust and brick as it struck one of the walls within. His eyes widened, and the arrow pierced his left eye. He fell to the floor in a heap.

Around her, the other Chosen Yunillia had brought with them fought fiercely. Glys’ blessings filled the air as she shrouded them all in her shaman powers. Nascal and Lia used their shields to keep back the projectiles hurled at them inside, while Veresha loosed arrows at Celaine’s side. All the while, Yunillia trailed behind the dragons. Celaine sensed danger from her as if she stared at a coiled snake. It was just a matter of time before she decided to bite.

“What’s going on there?” Hump asked, his voice strained.

She glanced at him, wincing at the wobble in his step as his foot found the next stair. In this place where the sun didn’t touch, his shield shone like a bastion in the gloom against all the shadows that sought their end. A wizard, small and bent against the weight of uncountable foes, yet she trusted that his will would not break.

“We’ve found more of Irila’s apprentices and other more powerful warriors,” Celaine said. “Don’t worry about it. Just make sure your shield stays up and try not to trip.”

“No problem at all.”

Yeah right, she thought to herself. She’d just saved him from a trip not a minute ago.

Ignoring his optimism, she remained on his left side, ready to grab him under the arm if he stumbled again. A trip here while surrounded would be bad news, not to mention that his spell might fail. But there was little she could do to help against the horde. There had to be a million lesser undead in this city, killing a few wouldn’t make a difference.

Instead, she focused on doing what she could to get them inside the palace. Already, the force within was larger. From their sudden appearance, it seemed Irila had not expected them; or perhaps this was just another trick of the lich.

It doesn’t matter.

Silver and darkness streaked from her as she readied another arrow. Before her bow, arrows of shadow formed. She glanced at the armoured figure on Lorel’s reanimated back—at the beast that dared to desecrate the body of a wolf dragon. Her scales and flesh were torn from her, leaving her bones visible. Even after she’d been twisted by Irila’s power, Celaine could still see the holes that littered her wings from where she’d been slain.

It made her burn with fury.

A fury she directed into her arrows, lacing them with the killing power of Predator’s Intent. Into them went her hatred, her need to see the enemies before her die. But she had no clear shot on the black knight. Not with Itris, Aurora, and Finnian engaged with him.

From Aurora’s back, Finnian exchanged blows with the figure, but even with his giant sword and the strength of a Chosen of the fifth circle, the figure held his ground easily. Dark energy rose from his armoured frame, empowering his strikes. With each hammer of blows, Celaine felt a chill strike her soul, even from a distance.

This being was powerful. More powerful than her, that much was certain. She turned her anger toward the enemies inside instead.

Each of her arrows found their mark. Some were not killing blows, but she could see her targets dropping within. There were many mages amongst the force. They hurled out magic of all kinds, but it was weak compared to Hump’s. Another reminder of just how strong he’d become in the year and a bit she’d travelled with him.

These lesser mages could not defend against her attacks while keeping up their own. Other foes were not so simple. Eight-foot tall, armoured knights barred the path, waiting with their swords and spears for them to reach the palace gates. A woman holding the leashes of writhing shadow creatures seemed to barely have the strength to keep them back as they snapped and howled to enter the fight.

But Yunillia was coming. Celaine had witnessed the Stormcaller defeat Irila’s generals before. Whatever army stood against them, she would defeat it now. Spear in hand, Yunillia made her move. She rushed between Itris’ legs, the two of them moving in unison as she danced forward and emerged beneath the skeletal dragon, Lorel. Itris suddenly struck at its neck, forcing it to rear up, exposing her chest where the lich’s power glowed brightest.

Yunillia’s spear turned piercing blue as she stabbed with the boom of thunder. Lightning erupted from its end. The dragon was blasted back, lightning crackling all over her body. She lay there on the ground, her corpse smoking. A pungent, acrid smell filled the air like something toxic burning. It was a devastating blow. Essence surged within Lorel’s body like purple worms eating her flesh.

“What are you doing, Jezalan?” a woman shouted from inside, her figure concealed in darkness. “Do not fail our lady now, not after she gifted you such a mount.”

He did not respond to the woman, but Celaine felt a change. The figure stood atop Lorel’s back but did not answer. The same dark energies as before surged through his armour, giving him an ethereal red glow.

“Curse Retribution,” he snarled. “Paladin’s Bane. Dreadful Reckoning.”

A burst of cursed energy exploded from him and the dragon. Celaine felt her blessings wane and a wave of warmth syphoned from her before she gathered the strength to resist. She formed a barrier of will against it, forcing it from her body, but still some slipped past her defences.

Lorel returned to her feet, her head swaying, hollow, dead eyes staring out at them. There was nothing but hunger in those once beautiful eyes.

But the path was open. They’d reached the top of the stairs and now they only needed to breach the palace.

One step at a time, Celaine told herself. The hunt was on once they were inside. Her greatest hunt of all.

The hunt of a lich queen.

Her blessings returned to her in full as the thrill of such a task descended on her. She nocked another arrow, loosing it at an archer within that took aim at Hump.

***

It didn’t take long until the stairs levelled out and Hump passed white support pillars on either side of him. The two dragons bullied their way inside, and then Hump was out of the cold courtyard and in the doors. He lodged himself there, blocking arrows and attackers that attempted to follow them inside. They pressed against his barrier, piling on top of each other at the top of the stairs, pouring against the palace walls in an avalanche of bone, until a mound of sentient bones clawed toward him.

“Hold it just a little longer,” Ashera cried. Hump sensed her essence at work, rising all around him in trails of bronze that carried the deep, ceaseless power of the earth.

Hump threw his weight against his staff as the mass of monsters tried to force him back. He expended more fuel to the spell, until it was like a net of blue flame before him. Yet beyond the mound of skeletons came something big. It tossed the horde aside like a field of wheat before a flood, throwing them up and away as it barrelled closer.

Hump glimpsed a humanoid figure through the mass. It was a boulder of a being, with an upper body the size of a trill, while its legs were small. At that speed and size… Hump’s spell wouldn’t hold without more power. He knew it instinctively.

New plan.

Changing his essence, he poured heat into his staff. His spellbook whirled in his head, essence exploding from the runes on its pages and enhancing the Tier 2 spell. “Fire Shield.”

The lines of blue essence turned to red as fire spread across his shield in a flash. It crackled in its fury. There was a sizzling hiss as arrows struck it before bursting into flames, wooden shafts popping, feathers burning to dust. Skeletal bones shattered and cracked; the essence that bound them unable to resist the terrible heat.

And as the boulder of a being came into range, Hump thrust his staff forward with a roar. “Shatter Shield!”

His voice rang with essence, deep and resonating. A wave of red heat swept outward in a wave from his Shield, speeding through the air and blasting back the horde of lesser undead, clearing the path between Hump and the creature. Up close, it was a beast of rotten-red and twisted flesh. Bulging muscles and bony protrusions were like tumours over its body. It had no hands, stubs of bone at the end of each of its arms.

It didn’t slow in its charge, crossing its arms over its chest and face as it was engulfed. Still it came closer, seemingly unaffected as the flame rippled across its flesh. Then Hump caught the acrid stench of burning meat. Its body charred and blackened. Its mouth fell open in a shrieking scream. It stumbled, falling, then writhed on the ground. And then it was lost as more skeletons came forward, clambering over its fallen remains and any others as they raced for the palace, driven by the savage, unceasing hunger that could only come from necromancy.

Cold lanced through him as Hump started to reform his Shield, only to stop as he heard Ashera complete her chant.

“Rise, stone of the ancient world, and answer my call!”

The stone erupted at Hump’s feet, shining with bronze essence as it formed a thick wall of solid stone. It moved like liquid, bulging into the walls before hardening to form a heap of impenetrable stone.

This is it, Hump realised, a wave of fear and exhilaration surging through him. There’s no way back now.