by Pirateaba
She shouted at the mage next to her.
“Now, Lir!”
His face was covered in sweat. Lir raised his staff and pointed at the open space as the undead tried to gather for another charge.
“[Wall of Flames].”
Fire burst from his staff and shot past the adventurers, some of whom were unlucky enough to be scorched by the magical flames. A curtain of fire blocked off the corridor, each flame reaching nearly to the ceiling. The adventurers in front fell back, as the undead entered the flames and retreated, burning and screaming.
“Now—everyone, to the rear!”
Yvlon’s voice rose and the adventurers turned. Some of the undead had been caught behind the fire. They were hacked to pieces and the group ran back to the large room.
“The spell is about to run out! Mages, buy us some time.”
Lir nodded. He raised his staff and two more mages joined him. They pointed at the single entrance to the room and walls of light and magical runes appeared on the floor, blocking entry.
“[Ward of Safety].”
“[Lesser Barrier].”
“[Sanctuary of Light].”
None of them were particularly high-level spells, all being Tier 1 and Tier 2, but together they did what an individual spell would not.
Ceria saw the wall of flames spell Lir had cast die out, and then the undead ran at the barrier. But they crashed against the spells and though they struck and hit the magical walls, they were unable to break through.
The adventurers watched, tense, until the undead began to pull back. The four Crypt Lords stared silently at the magic and then began walking back into the darkness. The undead followed silently. In a matter of minutes they were gone.
The battle was over. And just as if another spell had been cast, suddenly Ceria could hear the other noises around her. Men and women crying out in pain, the voices, the scraping of metal and splashing as people poured potions over wounds or took off armor to get at injures—all the noises that had been covered by the pounding of her heart.
“Screw me with a Wyvern’s tooth, what the hell was that?”
Gerald was shouting in the center of the milling adventurers. He was holding a piece of cloth to stop the bleeding as a healing potion regenerated a huge bite that had been taken out of one of his legs. He pointed to the corridor filled with corpses.
“They tore us apart out there! That was an ambush! A damn ambush from the undead!”
“How many people are injured? Who’s missing?”
Yvlon strode around the room, listening as adventurers called out. Ceria looked around for her group and ran to the Horns of Hammerad. Miraculously, they were all there. Marian, Gerial, Caluz, Sostrom—
“Hunt? Where’s Hunt?”
Ceria looked around in sudden panic.
“Here. He’s here, Cerial.”
One of the other warriors, Barr, pointed to the ground. Ceria saw Hunt was lying with his head propped up against a pack, his face twisted into a grimace, hands frozen in a clawed position.
“What—”
“A Wight got him from behind. It raked him with those damn paralyzing claws and he froze up. He’s okay—but the magic isn’t going away for a while.”
Ceria sighed in relief. It wasn’t good—Hunt was out of commission, but he wasn’t dead. She looked at the other adventurers. They were all battered, including herself. Even with healing potions, they all had some injuries. Except for Calruz. The Minotaur looked like he’d barely taken a scratch in the fight, and only the gore painting every inch of his battleaxe testified to his involvement.
“Ceria. It is good you are well. The lighting spell was well-timed, as was the fireball.”
He nodded at her as he scanned the room. She opened her mouth for a scathing retort, and closed it.
“Yeah. I’m glad everyone’s here. How many people didn’t make it?”
The answer was six, which was nothing short of a miracle. But it was really only six dead, and many more wounded. Most of the injuries the adventurers had taken could be cured with healing potions, but several had lost fingers or limbs, and some had broken bones in ways that couldn’t be healed with a mere potion.
The hardest-hit group had been Cervial’s Flawess Flight. They’d lost two in the ambush, and two more in the scouting group. He was weeping as he reloaded his crossbow with another bolt.
“I fired it right at the damn monster, but it just took Elise and ate her. Damn it. Damn them.”
“That was a disaster.”
Lir agreed as he rested on a stone slab. His face was grey, a sign he’d used too much magic. Ceria felt the same way, although the mana potion she’d taken was helping.
“How did they sneak up on us like that? We let our guards down, thinking the undead couldn’t.”
“They were being lead by Crypt Lords, that’s how. Those bastards can command the other dead.”
“Crypt Lords. I’ve never fought their kind. Those giant things at the back—they can think?”
Lir and Ceria nodded.
“How dangerous are they?”
“A Crypt Lord is a threat capable of wiping out a Silver-rank team if they’re not careful. Estimated level is…around 22. Possibly 26 if you factor in their special abilities. They’re mostly dangerous because they can command the dead around them to do things like lie in wait or use pincer attacks.”
Gerald swore.
“Gods. No wonder Charlez and his team didn’t make it out. We very nearly didn’t either.”
“Good job on that [Illumination] spell, Ceria. Without it we would have been cooked.”
Ceria bowed her head as Yvlon nodded at her. Cervial nodded dully and Gerald grunted.
“Yes, and the mages certainly saved us. But there’s a problem. Where’s that damned lizard?”
“W-who? Me?”
Gerald scowled across the room at Olesm. The Drake flinched as he stormed towards him.
“You! I saw you running away! I should run you through myself, you coward!”
Olesm raised his hands as Gerald’s fists tightened.
“Please, allow me to explain—”
“Hold it Gerald!”
Another mage sitting with his back to a wall raised his hand wearily as Gerald’s face reddened. He pointed at Olesm.
“That Drake didn’t run. He saved us. And you as well. When the undead were running at us, he got a group of us mages and used a skill to let us escape the ambush. That let us get back here and open a path for the rest of you.”
“What?”
Gerald stared incredulously at Olesm. The Drake grinned nervously at him.
“[Rapid Retreat]. It’s ah, a [Tactician] skill although many [Thieves] and similar classes know it too. I heard Calruz shouting to get back over here and I thought the rest of you would be right behind me.”
The adventurers murmured in appreciation. Gerald hesitated, and then nodded slowly.
“Well. Good job. My apologies. Thank you for doing that. If you hadn’t—”
“It was a terrible ambush. My [Dangersense] only went off at the last moment. If we’d paid more attention to the scouts—”
“They were our best. Nothing should have been able to take out all of them without making a sound. Not even a horde of the undead. All of them had escape skills. So how—”
Yvlon rested a hand on Cervial’s shoulder comfortingly. She looked around at the other adventurers.
“We can worry about that after the threat is gone. Those spells won’t last forever. And we need a fast decision. Do we press on, now we know how many undead are out there, including Crypt Lords? Or do we retreat?”
“Retreat?”
Even Cervial raised his head at that word. He shook his head, dark fury in his eyes.
“No. We don’t do that. That was an ambush, not a fair fight. We’re going to go after those monsters and shoot them to bits.”
“Any idea on how?”
That came from Gerial. He stood at the barrier and
stared out into the darkness. Ceria’s [Illumination] spell had cast light on the entire floor, but only as far as she’d walked. The branching corridor was still dark, and not a single undead could be seen from where he stood.
“They’ve already hidden themselves again. If we keep going, we’ll just run into another ambush. Granted, we know it’s coming, but I’d rather not do that again.”
Lir nodded as he got to his feet slowly.
“We could set traps and fortify this location. If we need to retreat—”
“An extended battle like that is risky. We’d be looking over our shoulders the entire time, and we’d never know we got them all.”
Yvlon sighed as she wiped her sword clean with a cloth.
“Those Crypt Lords are deadly. We need to take them out first. Do that, and the rest of the undead lose a lot of their threat.”
“Do we have any way of detecting them? A spell?”
“We could search for trapped rooms, but we’ll burn through magic fast that way. It’s risky.”
Cervial bared his teeth.
“There’s no way in hell I’m retreating, not without a huge pile of gold to put on my people’s tombstones.”
“I’m right with you, but how—?”
“I have a plan.”
Every adventurers turned and the arguing stopped as Calruz spoke. Ceria looked up from her second mana potion and had to stop herself from raising her eyebrows. Calruz? His plans were about as complex as a Goblin’s, and everyone knew it. Including him. He left all of the finesse to Gerial and Ceria.
But the Minotaur had taken the stage and it was her job to back him up. Or kick him in the tail if he said something really stupid.
“We should face them all at once.”
Ceria’s foot twitched, but Gerald was quicker.
“Are you mad, Calruz? Why in the hells do you want to do that? They nearly tore us apart in that ambush and you want to take on the rest all at once?”
The Minotaur snorted at him.
“You speak of seeking them out in their homes, but that is foolish. We are adventurers. We are stronger than they are. If we remove the element of surprise and cowardly attacks from behind, we stand a better chance of wiping them out at once than fighting with our backs to the walls every five minutes.”
The other Captains and vice-Captains fell silent at that. Yvlon raised her eyebrows and looked at Lir, who nodded.
“Calruz is right. In a straight battle without an ambush we’d hold the advantage. If we could turn it into that I’d place all my bets on our side winning handily. But how do you propose we do that, Calruz? Those monsters aren’t exactly smart, but they’re clever enough not to commit to an all-out attack. You saw how they retreated once we put the barriers up.”
“I will lure them out. If one of you possesses a [Loudness] spell or something similar, I will provoke them into attacking.”
“I know that spell. But are the rest of you agreed…?”
Lir glanced around. Yvlon hesitated before nodding, but Gerald and Cervial were already picking up their weapons.
Calruz glanced around.
“You. [Tactician]. Do you have any skills that would turn the tide of battle?”
Olesm gulped.
“Yes. A…a few. One good one. Should I use it now…?”
“No. Wait. We will recover a while longer. And then we will go and destroy those who would take our own.”
Calruz’s eyes flashed. He lifted his battleaxe and the adventurers began to stand. It swept over them, a moment of passion that turned to anger. They had been attacked. Hurt. Some of their friends had died. It was time to fight again.
Ceria felt the same mood swing through her. She eyed her wand and estimated that she could cast quite a number of spells before she ran out of mana. Yes, the undead had struck first and done damage. But they hadn’t killed the adventurers.
Now it was their turn to strike back.
—-
Calruz strode down the corridor and waited as the adventurers formed up around him. He hadn’t gone too far from their room which was now their camp for the wounded and where they’d fittingly placed their dead. He waited with his hands on his axe as Lir cast the spell to amplify his voice.
“Done. I’ll cast a [Muffle] spell so we don’t get the worst of whatever you’re about to do.”
Calruz nodded. He stared into the darkness. All of the undead had vanished into the darkness, leaving only the truly dead behind. Yvlon stood next to Calruz, staring up at him curiously.
“Do you have [Taunt] as a skill? I don’t know that would even work on the dead…”
“Pah.”
That single word echoed loudly in the darkness. Calruz’s already loud, rumbling voice had been amplified several times over so that Yvlon winced. He motioned her back silently and whispered, which was still louder than shouting with the spell in effect.
“I do not need a skill. Be ready. When they attack we will crush them.”
Yvlon nodded and stepped back into line. This time all of the best warriors and other four adventuring captains were in front, with all the mages and archers towards the back. Ceria stood next to Sostrom, heart beating rapidly. Assuming Calruz’s undisclosed plan worked, they would be in a perfect position to meet the undead. If he knew what he was doing.
When the [Muffle] spell had been cast, Calruz narrowed his eyes. He raised his battleaxe and gripped it tightly. Then he raised his voice and shouted.
No. Not just shouted. His first word made Ceria’s ears ring, and she went temporarily deaf as his voice rumbled through the entire building.
“Pathetic spirits of the dead! I am Calruz, leader of the Horns of Hammerad! I challenge you. Face me and meet your end!”
Outside the ruins, the guardsmen and adventurers standing guard in front of the building looked around. They thought they’d heard something, and the shifting of dirt within made them reach for their weapons. But no attack came. Above, that was.
Even with both her hands covering her ears and the [Muffle] spell, Ceria could still only hear ringing after Calruz had finished. His voice had echoed in her bones and she felt almost nauseous as well.
She tried to say something, and realized she still wasn’t hearing. She shouted, and heard a bit of sound.
“What?”
Sostrom looked at her. Ceria pointed. He looked, and then saw it.
Movement. In the shadows, in the darkness of the long corridor at the edges of where Ceria’s [Illumination] spell had been cast, things moved. A huge shape appeared and grinning teeth and long claws made of yellowed bones moved into view.
One Crypt Lord, and then two, three…four of them appeared out of the darkness, followed by a horde of the dead. They opened their mouths and howled at Calruz as the Minotaur took his place in the line of adventurers.
“Strike me blind Calruz!”
Gerial had to shout above the ringing of his ears. He grinned wildly at the Minotaur as Calruz bared his teeth at him.
“How’d you know that would work?”
“The dead do not like sound any more than you do. It is an intrusion. I have challenged their honor. And so—we begin!”
Lir really should have taken the [Loudness] spell off of Calruz. He did, but only after the Minotaur’s large voice had set everyone’s ears ringing a second time. The Minotaur pointed.
The undead were indeed massing to charge. The adventurers waited, hearts beating, ears filled with echoes of thunder.
Olesm cleared his throat. Ceria thought he did, at any rate. She was still having trouble hearing, but the Drake spoke loudly.
“It looks like it’s my turn.”
“What?”
“I said—never mind. Here!”
The Drake pointed as the undead began to run down the long corridor. He opened his mouth, and Ceria heard the words clearly.
“[Attack Formation].”
All of the adventures gasped and looked around. As Olesm had spoken, the weapons and armor
they carried felt like they had grown lighter. Even the mages felt a second wind and their magic came to them more strongly than before.
Ceria gaped at Olesm as he grinned at her.
“What was that? A skill?”
He nodded.
“I can only do that once a day at my level. But yes—it can change a battle. The rest of my skills are mostly defensive or information-oriented so this is all I can do.”
“What?”
“Never mind!”
The undead were running now, closing the long distance at alarming speed. Olesm raised his voice again as he pointed to one of the Crypt Lords. It was the one Ceria had hit with the fireball, and though it had eaten some eyes, it was still half-blind as well.
“That one is more injured than the rest. Bring it down first.”
The mages around him nodded as they readied their spell. Ceria watched the undead approach. Cervial loosed crossbow bolt after bolt with the other three adventurers in his group, felling zombies and skeletons, but the Crypt Lords and the rest of the horde ran on.
Yvlon raised her voice as the undead drew closer. They were around thirty meters away and closing ever faster. She unsheathed her sword and pointed.
“Mages!”
The magic casters needed no further casting. Ceria and Sostrom pointed their wands and loosed their spells along with the other casters, filling the hallway with magic as the warriors kept their heads down.
The first row of undead met a wave of magic and simply…vanished. Lightning crackled through gouts of flame and spiraling bolts of energy blew limbs apart. Not all the magic had gone into the attack though; pools of slippery liquid appeared on the ground, slowing the undead and a second wall of flames turned a group of zombies into screaming torches.
Half of the mages loosed another spell before the undead were too close. Calruz stood upright and Gerald shouted.
“Now warriors, follow me! Charge!”
The armed rose to their feet and roared, drowning out the howling of the undead as they ran straight at the undead. Ceria saw the first zombie raise its hand to strike Gerial before Calruz’s massive hand punched straight through the zombie’s hand.