Beverly turned to Gerald, "Are the troops ready, General?"
"They are," he confirmed. "We've cut down a tree to make a battering ram, and the Dwarves gave it a crude metal head for extra measure. The Trolls are ready to march forward on your command."
"Then we'd best get going," she said, "before this spell wears off."
"I'll be moving the arbalesters into position as you advance," offered Hayley, "and the Dwarven axes will be just behind the Trolls."
"You remember the plan?" asked Gerald.
"Yes, the Trolls take out the door, the Dwarves enter with me," confirmed Beverly
"You're to hang back and only engage if there are more of those creatures. The Dwarves are used to close-in fighting, let them do the clearing, understood?"
"Understood."
"Good luck, Beverly, and may Saxnor’s strength be with you."
She made her way down toward the waiting Trolls. Gerald watched the knight, her hammer hanging loosely in her hand, her shield in the other.
"Will it work?" asked Anna
"It has to," he replied, "the rendezvous with Fitz is drawing near. We don't have time for anything else. And even then, it may be too late."
"We took a lot of losses," she said.
"Yes, perhaps too many, but we promised him we'd be there and we will. I only hope we have enough troops left to make a difference."
* * *
Beverly made her way to the Trolls. Their leader, Tog, stood amongst them, a head taller than his eight-foot high brethren.
As she approached he moved toward her, "We are ready to march, Commander."
"Very well," she replied, "let's get this underway."
The company began moving forward, directly for the tower. Despite the massive tree log, the Trolls moved swiftly, and Beverly found herself jogging to keep up. On their flanks, the Dwarven arbalesters had moved up and were now beginning a rain of bolts in an attempt to keep the defending crossbowmen at bay.
They drew closer to the tower, and she found it difficult to breathe. The miasma here penetrated her nostrils with its stench, burning her. She shook it off while beside her she noticed the Trolls making similar movements. Looking back, she saw the Dwarven axes following at a slower pace. Although outdistanced, they knew the door would take time to collapse and had chosen to conserve their strength for the final push into the tower.
Tog gave a yell in his native tongue, and the Trolls surged forward. Beverly moved to the side, out of their way as they swung the massive log. It struck the door dead centre with a loud bang, and she saw the stone structure shake slightly, showering her with particles of dust. She was up against the tower now, her back to it, while she watched her troops advance. Another strike of the ram brought more dust raining down on her helmet.
Crossbow quarrels flew from the battlements, landing short of the arbalesters. The defenders were outranged by their opposites but soon the Dwarven axes came into sight, and they switched targets. The Dwarf foot was heavily armoured in the finest chainmail, but some bolts still penetrated. She saw three go down in the first volley, one with a shot to the leg. There was a brief pause as they reloaded and then another shower of bolts flew forth.
Again and again, the mighty timber struck, the ringing echoing in Beverly's ears. The door was reinforced with metal, but when she risked a glance, she noticed it was beginning to buckle. She looked up, to the top of the tower where someone was tipping something over the parapet. She yelled out a warning.
The Trolls backed up as boiling water cascaded down from the tower, drenching the opening.
"Ready the Dwarves," yelled Tog. "The door should break in three more strikes."
Beverly ran toward the Dwarves to pass on the message.
"One," yelled Tog, the strike echoing across the field.
"Two," he yelled again, this time to the sound of wood splintering.
"Three." The log surged forward with a tremendous crashing noise
"Back," came the cry and the heavy ram was dragged out of the doorway and tossed to the side.
"Forward," yelled Beverly, rushing through the opening to see a line of footmen, their shields forming a short wall of defiance. Beverly didn't pause but struck out with the hammer. Someone lunged out with a spear, but she easily brushed it aside and rammed her shield into the unsuspecting target's face. Behind her the Dwarves followed, their axes chopping down any resistance.
Beverly finished off her opponent and looked around. She stood in a circular chamber, with a staircase that wound its way up to the second floor. Dwarves immediately flooded up the stairs, driving all before them. She waited, letting the warriors carry the day, remembering her orders. More than thirty Dwarves had climbed the stairs by the time she followed. The second floor was divided into rooms off of a central corridor, and she observed the Dwarves searching room by room, hunting down their prey.
She walked by dead bodies, noticing they were all Humans. Off in the distance echoed the sounds of fighting and then a Dwarf came toward her, his helmet revealing a blood-soaked face. "Commander," he said in common, "we've reached the top floor. They've barricaded themselves in."
"I'm coming," she said, rushing forward.
Up the stairs she flew until the sounds of chopping wood drew closer. The tower here was divided in half, the stairs on one side, an ornate looking door leading to the other.
The Dwarf captain, Gelion, acknowledged her presence as his troops hacked away at the door. "We'll have it down soon enough," he said. "We've already cleared the roof."
"Be careful," she warned, "we have no idea what else they might have in store for us."
"Foul necromancy," spat the Dwarf. "If we find the mage?"
"Take him down as quickly as possible, we can't afford for him to get a spell off."
"My thoughts exactly," he said, then smiled grimly. "This is close-in work, just the sort we Dwarves like."
"We're glad to have you here, Captain."
Splinters began to fly off the door, and soon a small hole appeared. Light glowed from within; the flickering of a flame. The Dwarves paused a moment, while one of them peered through.
"What d'ya see?" asked Gelion.
"They're just standing there," the Dwarf replied. "There's four of them, with one standing behind the other three."
"Bring down that door and be cautious," said the Dwarf captain, "they have something planned."
A flurry of axes leaped into action. The door splintered even more, and then a large chunk fell to the ground to be pulled away by someone in the back row. Two larger Dwarves pulled the remainder from its hinges and tossed them aside. They flooded into the room, Beverly in close pursuit.
As they entered, they clustered around the door, surprised by the sight before them. Beverly, taller than the rest, looked over their heads to see the last defenders of the tower. In the rear stood a richly dressed man, and though she had never met him, she had no doubt it was the Baron of Redridge. Before him, however, was a sight that chilled her to the bone.
Three armoured knights stood in front of the baron, weapons drawn, visors down. It wasn't the presence of knights that froze her, however, but the crest each bore on its shield; they were all Knights of the Hound!
Beverly's mind tried to take in the meaning of this; she remembered the dead bodies, in the dungeons of Wincaster. She had seen them tortured to death, and yet here they were, standing before her in opposition.
The baron simply pointed at the intruders. “Kill them all!" he yelled.
The knights stepped forward, and the Dwarves responded in turn. The tallest knight swung its sword, cleaving through chainmail and severing an arm. Another Dwarf drove his axe into the knight's breastplate, splitting it. It should have killed the knight, but it kept on swinging. Beverly wanted to fight, was ready to, but in the close confines of the room, there was no space.
The Dwarves were whipped up into a frenzy, axes swinging left and right, hacking away to little effect. She witnessed wound after w
ound as axes chopped into the knights, but still, they kept fighting. Someone struck the tallest one in the head, knocking the visor clean off. The eyeless sockets of Dame Levina stared back at her.
The Dwarf in front of her fell, and finally, she stepped forward, striking overhead with her hammer. In the low ceilinged room, it hit a rafter, ruining her blow. Nature's Fury came down with little force, bouncing off of Levina's shoulder pauldron.
The undead knight struck back, bashing Beverly's shield. The force was otherworldly, sending her reeling. She backed up to get her bearings but another knight, this one shorter, stepped forward bringing down a mace onto her shield, creating a huge dent.
"Abby," she called out as the mace struck again. She tried to strike back, but the two knights, heedless of the Dwarves, had focused on her as their target. Beverly attempted to parry the blows, but the close confines restricted the hammer, and she could do little to use it effectively.
Gelion leaped onto Dame Abigail's back, his legs locked around her waist, and brought his axe crashing down onto her head. The knight collapsed, a strange black liquid streaming out of her helmet.
As the Dwarf fell atop his victim, Levina struck out, but Beverly, trained for years as a warrior, was faster. She lashed out with an overhead swing, this time from her knees, confident the rafters wouldn't interfere. The hammer missed the knight's head but crashed into the shoulder with the full force of the blow. Nature's Fury smashed through the pauldron, driving deep. There was little resistance after the metal defence, and the weapon tore the limb from the vile undead minion.
Levina staggered back, her balance momentarily disrupted and then surged forward again while her arm, which lay on the floor, still grasping her sword, kept moving, trying to wield the weapon. Employing her shield as a weapon, she used its edge to smash into Beverly. The red-headed knight countered the blow, using her own shield to deflect while driving the hammer forward, this time at the legs. She felt her weapon crush the armour, saw a leg buckle as the full force of the blow hit, and then watched as Levina fell to the floor.
About to finish off the former Knight of the Hound, Beverly felt an intense pain. Tendrils of green light wrapped around her, crushing her and pinning her arms in place. She yelled out in alarm, fighting to free herself from its grasp.
The Dwarves were finishing off Levina, but then the green tendrils began to reach out farther, grasping Dwarves left and right, pinning them in place as well. She could only stare at the baron as he backed up, his hands glowing, the green light reaching out like tentacles.
She managed to free her right arm, but the tentacles were crushing her. The last undead knight struck out, cleaving a Dwarf in two with a single strike. Another Dwarf dropped to his knees and struck, taking out the kneecap of their opponent. The undead knight fell to the floor while three more Dwarves hacked at the body.
The tendrils were growing thicker now, entangling more and more of the Dwarves. Beneath Beverly, the floor glowed, and she suddenly understood. She had never seen a magic circle before, but the glowing light could be nothing else. The mage was out of her reach, but the circle wasn't. She called on the power of nature and struck the floor, hoping to disrupt his spell.
She only expected to interrupt his attack, but the hammer acted like it had a mind of its own. As the floor split beneath her feet, the beams that supported it cracked under the onslaught of the blow. With a sudden crashing sound, Beverly felt herself falling to the floor below, no longer bound.
Hearing cries of alarm, she wiped the dust from her eyes as she crawled out of the wreckage, surveying her surroundings. The fighting had ceased, but she knew the battle was not over.
"Where's the Necromancer?" she called out.
"Over here," came the reply. Beverly made her way through the dust and debris to where the Baron of Redridge lay, impaled on a piece of timber. Even as she watched, his eyes clouded over and then a strange transformation took place. Before all of them, the body returned to its natural form; that of an Elf.
Twenty-One
The Circle of Death
Spring 962 MC
Revi Bloom surveyed the devastation. "Did you have to bring the entire floor down?" he asked.
"We were fighting for our lives," Beverly defended. "What did you want me to do, ask him politely to surrender?"
He bent down to examine a floorboard that held strange markings.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Remnants of a pentagram," he said, "or rather a circle of death. They are much like our own magic circles, though tuned to the art of necromancy. It's a good thing you destroyed it when you did, though I'm surprised it worked."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"It takes great power to construct such a thing, and they are almost impossible to destroy without great magic."
"I had the power of Nature's Fury," Beverly responded.
"You did," Revi agreed. "A far more powerful weapon, it seems, then I realized."
"What of the rest of the keep?"
"We're searching it now," replied the mage, "but our first priority is seeing to the wounded." He wandered over to the corpse of a knight, its sandy hair spilling out from beneath its helmet. "Dame Juliet," he remarked.
"She was the daughter of the Earl of Tewsbury," said Beverly. "He disowned her for her choice of profession."
Revi shivered, "It seems Lady Penelope likes to keep her enemies nearby. I've never seen the like of this before. You say they fought well?"
"They were difficult to defeat," she admitted.
"Did they act with intelligence, or just mindlessly hack away?"
"They seemed to be able to react, if that's what you mean," she responded. “Why?"
"These were no ordinary animated corpses. It appears our necromantic enemy has discovered a way to give them some modicum of intelligence."
"You think the baron, whoever he is, imprisoned their souls?" Beverly involuntarily shivered.
"I'm of two minds," he replied. "Either, he imprisoned their souls and made them do his bidding, or he placed some sort of creature into their bodies."
"Creature?"
"Possibly. A kind of possession, if you will. I know so little about Death Magic."
"What happens now?" she asked, starting to feel the effects from her wounds.
"The army marches north. We'll keep a small group here to look through the wreckage and take care of prisoners, but we need to make our rendezvous. There is still another battle to fight, even though our numbers are depleted."
"And likely many more before the war's over," added Beverly.
"True enough. I'll be remaining here for a few days, as will you."
"I can ride," she protested.
"So you can, but your horse is out of commission for the foreseeable future, and you must rest. The enchantment placed on you will soon expire, and you'll have no energy left. Aubrey will see to Lightning, have no fear."
"What of the princess? She'll need a healer."
"Not for several days. You're needed with the army, but Lightning's leg will take a week or so to regenerate."
"Though it pains me to leave him behind," said Beverly, "I can take a spare mount and catch up with them once I've rested. How soon do they march?"
"They've already started. The Kurathian horse left this very evening." Revi looked around at the carnage, "I'm afraid the Dwarves have been decimated. I'd hate to run into more of these...," he kicked the undead corpse, "things." He stared down at the ruined shield. "How many of the Knights of the Hound are unaccounted for?" he asked.
"They tortured and killed six in the dungeons," Beverly replied. "Why, you think we'll have to face them again?"
"Possibly," he replied, "though I rather suspect it takes great power to animate them."
Beverly nodded her head in the direction of the baron's body. "He was quite powerful, but I suspect Penelope is even more so."
"I daresay you're right," said Revi. "Now get some rest. I have some exploring to do."
* * *
It took most of the night to recover all the bodies, for when the floor had fallen, part of it had crashed through the level beneath. By morning, the injured had been seen to, and the two healers sat for a moment in the dawning sunrise.
"That was very tiring," said Aubrey.
"It was," admitted Revi. "I must say your skills have increased tremendously. Tell me, what other spells have you learned?"
"Variations of healing, mainly," she confessed. "I can mend wounds, regenerate limbs, even remove poisons and toxins."
"Oh, I had hoped to teach you that one, I learned it myself. We shall have to compare notes and see if there are any differences. Anything else?"
"Yes, I managed to enter the spirit realm."
"You did?" he responded in surprise. "Then you're far ahead of me."
"In some ways, yes," she said, "but I heard you've become an Enchanter on top of being a Life Mage, I think that outshines me."
"It's not a contest, Aubrey. We have both been very busy with our studies. Now, are you ready to continue?"
"Continue with what? We've healed everyone we can."
"Ah, but we have to investigate the tower. The Dwarf captain, Gelion, tells me they've found a study of sorts."
She quickly rose to her feet, "Why didn't you say so sooner. Shall we?"
"Very well," he replied, likewise rising from his seat. He arched his back, making a cracking sound. "I fear I am getting too old for this sort of thing?"
"You're not that old, Master Bloom."
"True enough, though I sometimes feel ancient. It must be all we've been through, it wears on a person. Where's Hayley?"
"She's dealing with the escaped prisoners. Some of them want to join our army."
"At least we have that," he said, "though I doubt many of them are trained."
"They'll be good enough to garrison Redridge," she replied.
"True enough," he admitted, "and that will free up men for us to march north, a win all around if I do say so myself. Now, let's see what they've found inside, shall we?"
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