“Hmm? Oh, sorry Kronk. I'm a bit caught up with this. Come over and see.”
“One moment, master.”
The little guy opened the second window and immediately a refreshing cross wind blew through the room and Simon sighed with relief.
“Oh that's nice. Thanks so much. I forgot to open them.”
“Yes master, I noticed.”
He hopped up on to the desk and stood at Simon's left side.
“What is it, master?”
“Well this,” the wizard nodded at the image in the mirror, “is the hidden bay to the north of Nottinghill. That's where we're all going to meet. I just wanted to make sure that I knew the location well enough to Gate to it immediately. Also, I was checking to see if there were any undead patrols in the area.”
“And are there?”
“None that I can find. I'm going to check several times tomorrow and again before we leave the day after. Safety first and all that.”
“Wise, master.”
“Cautious, my friend. Just cautious. Now this,” Simon made an odd circular motion with the mirror and waggled it several times, “is the more important location.”
Kronk looked into the mirror and hissed. It was the dark tower.
“Such a hideous construct,” he muttered in his deep voice. “Built by a truly twisted mind, master.”
Simon contemplated the soaring height of the edifice and had to agree. The building consisted of numerous levels, all bent and twisted together in some madman's version of a tower. Obviously they had used all of the stone and metal from the ruins of Nottinghill Castle but they must have also dug deeply into the surrounding rock to achieve a building so monstrously big.
“How tall do you think it is?” he asked the earthen.
Kronk peered at the tower and moved his mouth silently. Simon waited. He knew that the little guy was the expert when it came to stone and rock structures.
“Using that tree for scale, master,” Kronk finally answered as he pointed at one lonely tree near the base of the tower, “I would estimate that the building at least three hundred feet high.”
He looked at Simon soberly.
“At least. So if each floor averages ten feet in height, you will have to climb over thirty stories to reach the top. Less if the floors are larger, of course.”
“Crap, we're in for a hell of a hike.”
“And you may have to fight for every foot of progress you make, master. Let us not forget that.”
Simon smiled wryly at the earthen.
“Have you taken over Aeris' job as cheerleader?”
Kronk looked confused.
“I do not know what that means, master. I am simply telling you the truth.”
“It was a joke, Kronk.”
He moved the point of view of the mirror to the base of the tower. There was an open archway on each of the four walls that led into the darkened interior. No torches or other sources of light were visible and Simon wondered whether any part of the building was lit.
“Surely the necromancers, at least, have to see,” he murmured.
“Ah, you are worried about light, master?”
“Of course. I'm not a dwarf; I can't see into the infrared spectrum. If the humans in the group are to be effective during combat, we have to have light.”
“Which will make you a target,” came a voice from the doorway.
Aeris zipped into the room and joined Kronk on top of the desk.
“Exactly. But it's a risk we'll have to take, I suppose. Damn it.”
“On the other hand, master, that dwarf rogue Hallic could be a huge help to you in there. He does not need light to infiltrate that tower. Even the undead emit heat, from decomposition and the magic that animates them. The rogue will see every target.”
Simon looked at Kronk with surprise.
“Why didn't I know that?” he asked. “I assumed that undead things were cold.”
Aeris grinned at him.
“Cold is a relative term, my dear wizard. The dwarves can see very tiny emanations of warmth. Have no doubts; the rogue will not have a problem seeing in the darkness.”
“Thanks guys, that's at least somewhat reassuring. I'll pass that information along to Tamara and the others. Okay, so what else can we see?”
The three of them watched the image in the mirror and Simon rotated it slowly around the base of the tower. No matter what he did though, he could not get see any closer than a hundred yards away from it.
“I'm being blocked,” he finally admitted in exasperation as he put down the mirror. “Doesn't matter what I do, I can't get any detailed views of that damned place. I can't even see the patrols you mentioned, Aeris. You're sure that they're there?”
At the air elemental's scandalized expression, Simon held up a hand, motioning for him to stay calm.
“Don't get angry; I know your observations are trustworthy. I was just wondering if they had changed things up since your scouting mission, that's all.”
Aeris' expression became pensive.
“Now there's a thought. Hmm. It is remotely possible that they sensed my presence when I slipped inside the perimeter of the tower.”
“You never mentioned that,” Kronk growled at him. “Slipped your memory, did it?”
“Of course not! I was not pursued or attacked at any time during my brief reconnaissance. I'm just saying that, perhaps, they felt a disturbance. Nothing that would have set off any alarms, but maybe enough to make them wary.”
“Oh great.”
Simon looked down at the mirror on the table.
“So they may have increased the size or frequency of their patrols. Or both. Wonderful.”
He waved his hand over the mirror and canceled the spell.
“Don't assume anything,” Aeris warned him. “Just plan for the worst scenario and you should be fine.”
“Uh-huh. You should be a motivational speaker,” the wizard told him as he stood up. “I'm going to go down and sit outside on the front steps. I need to think.”
As he left the room, Aeris turned to look at Kronk.
“Was it something I said?”
“Almost always,” the earthen rumbled and then jumped off the table to hurry after Simon.
Aeris watched him leave, looking perplexed.
“Why is everyone so touchy lately?” he asked the suddenly empty room.
Chapter 25
The next morning dawned drab and foggy. Simon woke up early, feeling tired and anxious but not quite sure why.
Must be the weather, he thought as he dragged a brush through his hair, wincing at the knots.
Downstairs, he made some tea and toast and walked outside to sit on the steps and eat.
The world was eerily quiet. There were wisps of mist in the yard and the top half of the tower was engulfed in fog. Not a bird or an insect was making a sound.
Neither Kronk nor Aeris were anywhere to be see and Simon assumed that they were off doing chores of some sort. The temperature was cool for a change and he wore a robe for the first time in a week to protect him from the chilly dampness.
After he had finished his toast, the wizard left his cup on the steps and got up. He walked across the yard to the front gate, unlocked it and pulled both sides open.
The hinges squealed loudly in the dead silence and he cursed under his breath.
“I'll have to oil those,” he muttered as the two heavy doors swung back.
A dozen yards beyond the gate was a wall of dirty gray fog; impenetrable and almost alien looking. It made Simon's skin crawl and he became irritated with his own childishness.
It's only fog, you big baby, he chided himself.
It didn't help.
He stared at the thick, swirling mist for a few more minutes and then turned back toward the tower. He had things to do and staring blankly at nothing wasn't one of them.
Simon never knew whether it was instinct or a sound that he had barely heard, but he suddenly dived forward and rolled on th
e grass, ending up on his back. And he watched as a heavy axe cut through the air no more than a foot above his face. It was so close that he felt the air move as it shot past him to land in the yard.
“Mortis, to me!” he shouted as he leaped to his feet, arm outstretched.
His staff settled into his grip and Simon planted it end-first on the ground.
“Shield!” he barked and the barrier snapped up around him, large enough to fill the entire space of the open gate.
He was just in time.
With a frightening roar, a mass of bones and rotting flesh rushed out of the fog and slammed into his shield. Skeletons; dozens of them.
That would explain the thick fog, the wizard thought frantically.
He grabbed his staff in both hands and made a shoving gesture toward the pack of undead that were flailing uselessly at his shield.
“Fireball!” he yelled and focused his will on directing the spell's results.
A mass of flame, burning almost white-hot, appeared just above the gate and smashed into the undead attackers, scattering them like twigs and covering their scabrous bones with sticky fire. They burned like dried tinder.
Simon leaned on his staff and watched, waiting for the next shoe to drop.
His attackers wouldn't go to all the trouble of summoning this much fog to only set a few mindless skeletons on him, that much he knew.
And he was right.
From the wall of fog another wave emerged in a rush. This time it was a group of zombies; undead still almost human looking with rotting flesh hanging from their bones and maggot-filled eye sockets. Their stench alone almost made Simon retreat.
He scrambled to think of an effective spell but never got a chance to cast it.
From the top of the archway over his head, he heard a deep echoing battle cry.
“Attack! In the name of our master, defend the tower!”
It was the earthen who patrolled his outer wall. Six little rocky figures, including Kronk, leapt from the archway and landed in the middle of the charging zombies. They tore the animated corpses apart, putrid flesh and bone flying in all directions.
Simon stared at the carnage, happy that his shield kept him from being covered in undead meat. His heart was still pounding from the first attack and was racing even faster at the earth elementals' surprise intervention.
Leave it to Kronk, he thought with relief. Loyal and dependable, as always.
The earthen made quick work of the slow, mindless zombie attackers and then stood between Simon and the ominous fog, which showed no signs of lifting.
“Master,” Kronk called out over his shoulder. “Are you all right?”
Simon dropped his shield to avoid draining his limited power reserves. It collapsed with a loud snap and a whiff of ozone.
“I'm fine, my friend. Thanks for the help. You and your brethren surprised me.”
“You are welcome, master. And these monsters surprised us. I am just happy that I was walking the wall this morning. Do you know why we are being attacked?'
Looking around in disgust at the still wriggling bits of zombie flesh, Simon could only shake his head.
“You mean besides the fact that the dark gods hate me and I'm sure their servants do too? Nope, not a clue.”
The wizard watched as Kronk rolled quickly in the grass to wipe off the bits of gross detritus that was coating his body.
“Perhaps Aeris really did tip off the necromancers with his scouting after all, master.”
“I heard that.”
Aeris shot across the yard from the tower and stopped next to Simon.
“I was out back checking on the horses in this dense fog. They're fine, by the way, and the rear gate is secure. So, undead attackers, hmm?”
“Yep. I was just thinking that it would take a considerable amount of power to generate this much fog and hold it here. It's to protect the undead, obviously, but what's the point? I mean, not to brag, but surely the enemy knows that skeletons and zombies aren't much of a threat to me?”
The air elemental moved closer to float beside Simon's shoulder. He glanced at the array of earthen that were watching the fog closely and lowered his voice.
“Surely you don't think that the attack is over? Those useless lumps of flesh and bone were just a feint. Whoever is directing this attack is feeling you out before the main assault.”
Simon stared at him, suitably impressed.
“You missed your calling, Aeris. You should have been a tactician.”
The elemental grinned at him but quickly became serious again.
“It's common sense, my dear wizard. Now prepare yourself; I can sense something coming.”
He winked and then shot straight up into the fog and disappeared from sight.
He's up to something, Simon thought. Devious as ever. I'm just glad that he's on my side.
“Master!”
“What is it, Kronk?”
“Something approaches, master. I can feel the ground shaking.”
“Something large?”
The little guy cocked his head and listened, then knelt down and placed his palm on the ground.
“No master; many feet, moving quickly.”
“Great,” Simon said to himself. “Now what?”
He waited and then frowned at the wall of fog that surrounded the tower. Was it receding?
“Kronk? Is the fog dissipating?”
“I do not think so, master, but it is pulling back. I do not know why.”
Part of the field became visible, but the majority of it remained shrouded by the thick mist.
A low rumble rose from the fog, a strange sound like the distant passing of many wagons.
“What the hell is that?”
“Running feet, master. But I do not know what is causing it.”
With an ear-splitting shriek, a mounted form raced from the fog and came to a skidding stop. One, two, three more followed and Simon gaped at something he had only read about in stories.
Skeletal horses were stamping and pawing the ground, tearing furrows in the earth and glaring across the field at him with blood-red eyes of flame. They were all wearing misshapen, rusted armor and heavy war saddles and they sidled and reared, eager for battle.
On their backs were the real nightmares. Huge warriors wearing black armor. Ripples in the air around them made Simon think that they were giving off heat but then he noticed that the ground beneath the horses was white with frost. The armored figures were surrounded by bitter cold.
Their faces were hidden inside heavy helms but, like their steeds, their eyes blazed with the flames of hell. In life, the warriors must have each been nearly as large as Malcolm was. In death, they were wearing armor and sporting two-handed weapons that not even that big man could have used.
“Death knights? Seriously?”
“I do not know that term, master,” Kronk called to him, obviously hearing Simon mutter to himself.
“Just something I read about in one of my books,” the wizard replied. “It kind of describes these guys. Undead warriors who feel no pain and attack relentlessly. Unfortunately they can only be harmed with blessed weapons.”
“What should we do, master?”
The ominous figures sat like statues atop their restless steeds, watching Simon in silence. They were no more than twenty yards away, but the wizard calculated that it would take them a few seconds to begin a charge. It might just be enough time.
“Okay folks,” Simon said as quietly as he could, hoping that all the earthen could hear him.
“On the count of three, I want all of you to retreat underground and meet up back inside the wall. All right?”
“But master, what about you?”
“I'm going to slam the gate closed and lock it. Once I've done that, the wards will kick in and the undead will be blocked. I hope.”
“Master, you can't...”
“No discussion please. Here we go.”
Simon slowly bent down and left his staff o
n the ground, trying not to make any sudden moves. He would need both hands to close and bolt the two halves of the gate.
“On three. One...two...”
He jumped toward the left side of the gate.
“Three!”
The earthen slipped into the ground in the blink of an eye. At the same time, the four death knights spurred their hideous mounts forward, the huge steeds slipping and digging at the frozen ground beneath them.
Just what I was hoping for, Simon thought as he frantically slammed one side of the gate closed and leaped across to the other one.
He pulled the heavy portal over and feverishly slid one of the thick iron bolts into place. There was a flash of blue light as the wards engaged and from beyond the sealed gate, he heard a bellow of rage. It had been close, damned close.
Simon finished locking the gate, pushing the last bolt downward into the housing buried beneath the archway. He picked up his staff, wiped off his forehead and moved back into the yard.
A trembling in the grass made him jump as Kronk and the other earthen erupted from the ground a few feet away.
“It worked, master!” the earthen said with relief.
The wizard slipped Mortis de Draconis over his shoulder and smiled weakly.
“Barely. Come on, let's see what those things are doing out there.”
Simon hurried toward a ladder leading up to the parapet that ran around the inside of the wall and climbed up, trying not to trip on his robe. Atop the parapet, he walked over to stand next to the gate and gazed outward.
The four death knights had vanished. The fog was receding at a rapid pace and all that was left of the battle were bits and pieces of bone and greenish flesh.
“Well, they gave up rather quickly, didn't they?” he asked Kronk, who had hopped up to stand on the top of the wall.
“Yes master, they did. It is disturbing. Why go to the trouble of arranging this battle to give up so easily?”
The fog had rolled back about halfway across the field now and Simon suddenly saw something revealed by the dissipating mist.
“Whoa, whoa,” he said. “I think I spoke too soon.”
Tales from the New Earth: Volume Two Page 110