“We probably could,” Myra agreed. “But, I don't think it's likely to come to that.”
After this brief conversation, Paul began the work of cleansing the chapel. Much like the previous chamber, it was defaced and desecrated - but to an even greater extent. Still, it was nothing that prayer and holy water couldn't fix and, in less than an hour, the chamber was purified.
“That's it,” the paladin said with satisfaction as the last of the dark runes vanished.
“You sure?” Joey asked.
“Fairly,” Paul replied. “In fact; the whole place seems more at peace somehow. I had this feeling of lingering evil or something. It's hard to explain, but it's gone now.”
“Well, that's good,” his friend nodded. “In that case, we may as well go ourselves.”
“Agreed,” the paladin replied before turning to lead them from the chamber.
They had no sooner rejoined the rest of the band than a messenger arrived from their allies. The raiding parties had done very well; destroying a number of garrisons and collecting weapons, mounts, and more volunteers. In response, however, Lord Grathis had mobilized his forces and the Warriors were facing ever increasing odds. As a result, Gregory requested that Paul and his companions join him as quickly as possible and bring as many additional horses with them as they could. Minutes later, the companions were mounted, along with a number of other Warriors; heading as quickly as they could toward the place of rendezvous.
“I can't believe that didn't wake her up,” Paul observed.
“She's tired,” Joey replied. “Who knows how late she was up last night?”
“Still,” the paladin said, shaking his head. “I don't think you should have touched her in her sleep.”
“I didn't touch her,” Joey replied defensively. “I just picked her up.”
“I hope, for your sake, it's a distinction she can see. I mean; how do you think she's gonna react when she wakes up in your pocket?”
“I don't know. Gratefully, I hope. I was just trying to do her a favor.”
“I didn't even know your robe had pockets.”
“Well, it does and they're actually really soft. I think they're lined with velvet or something.”
“Be that as it may,” Paul continued, “what are you gonna do if she's angry about it?”
“Fall back to my first line of defense.”
“Which is?”
“Lie,” Joey explained. “She fell asleep kind of close to where I was laying. I'll just say that she must have rolled into my pocket in her sleep and that I didn't have the heart to wake her.”
“That seems pretty lame,” the paladin chuckled. “Do you think she'll believe you?”
“No idea,” he admitted. “Though, nothing beats a trial, but a failure.”
“Just keep in mind that, if she asks me, I'll tell her the truth.”
“That's fine. I'll just say you're lying.”
“She won't believe you.”
“No, she won't; but she might think it's funny and that would probably get me off the hook just as well.”
A little before noon, Paul's concerns were laid to rest and his friend received the thanks he had been hoping for. Although the fairy found waking in Joey's pocket momentarily confusing, confusion was a sensation she thoroughly enjoyed. It added a bit of excitement to the rather mundane process of getting up; which made it less of an event and more of an experience. That, coupled with the fact that she had managed to sleep very late due to his forethought, would have been enough to put her in a really good mood. However, as soon as she realized that she had no idea where they were, where they were going, or why they were going, she was positively ecstatic.
Still, her raptures of delight didn't prevent her from offering Joey a few well-chosen words of censure. She explained in no uncertain terms that, although she appreciated both his motives and the results of his actions, he should never do that again. First off, it's very inappropriate for a young man to touch a young lady in her sleep; unless of course, she's on fire or something like that. But common sense will tell you when you have to break that cardinal rule. Secondly, it's not very dignified to ride around in someone’s pocket. It makes you feel like a watch. A living watch. A living watch that can't tell time. And, a watch that can't tell time is a failure. And, failure doesn't feel very dignified. Lastly, it was hardly proper for them to be in such close physical proximity unless they were married or, at the very least, engaged. But, as his absolutely ludicrous size made that particular possibility completely impossible, they should keep a decent distance between them at all times - especially considering how attractive they both were.
Joey took this criticism in the spirit in which it was given; graciously accepting both her thanks and her correction. He assured her that he wouldn't do it again, but said that he was very glad she was at least momentarily pleased. He then made some remarks to the effect that he really wished she was a little larger. For her own part, she couldn't understand why. If she were bigger, she wouldn't have fit in his pocket. That being the case, she would have had to wake up early. Which would have completely ruined her entire day. The young man found himself without a reply to this particular argument, which made Nyssa feel as if she had outwitted him again; putting her, if possible, in an even better mood.
In truth, the spirits of the entire band were relatively high. The women and children they had left behind them were, under the circumstances, both safe and happy. Although the distance they needed to cover over the next two days was considerable, they were making very good time. The messenger and his escorts had left Gregory three days before, having agreed to meet at one of their hidden camps five days after their departure. If they could keep up their current pace, which seemed likely, they would reach the rendezvous point before the sun set on the morrow.
The party filled the journey with talk of the Warriors’ successes and what their future plans might be. According to the messenger, whose name was Telrek, their initial efforts had been quite fruitful. A day and a half after the two bands had gone their separate ways, Gregory led his men in an attack on the village of Yalmoor. The entire garrison consisted of fewer than fifty undead and they were overwhelmed and slaughtered in a matter of minutes. This triumph brought with it a number of new recruits, as well as a few more horses and some additional supplies.
However, as one victory quickly led to another, the Warriors quickly began to suffer under the weight of their own success. Volunteers proved to be more readily available than mounts, weapons, or food. The villagers only had so much they could offer, and not all of them were equally grateful. Some, much like Farren had, felt that the Warriors were causing more problems than they could possibly solve.
These troubles were increased just days before when Lord Grathis decided to alter his tactics. He had originally moved the legion toward Kafmara in order to support what remained of the garrison there and in the hopes of being able to bring it to bear against the rebels. However, once he realized he was facing an extremely mobile enemy, he broke the legion up; leaving it to defend key positions while his regular troops were assembled into an army he could field.
“Why would he do that?” Joey asked. “I mean; dividing your forces is never a good idea.”
“It is when you don't know where your enemy is or where they'll strike next,” Alena corrected. “Especially when you so greatly outnumber them and you're trying to defend a number of different places at the same time.”
“Okay. I can see that,” Joey ceded. “But then, why not just break the legion up and leave the garrisons as they were?”
“The legions depend on quantity, not quality,” Myra explained. “They're mainly composed of ancient skeletons stolen from tombs and catacombs during the war, although far more powerful undead do serve as their commanders. The rank and file legionnaires are rarely armed, almost never armored, and individually pose very little threat. Their only real strength is their ability to overwhelm their enemies with sheer numbers. And, in t
his case, that's not enough.
“What Grathis needs to defeat us is speed. Not only is your average skeletal warrior not able to ride, their formations move rather slowly. Even marching nonstop, they could never hope to hunt us down. So, he did the only thing that made any sense. He filled his garrisons with legionnaires and fielded his other forces.”
“Alright, that makes sense,” he nodded. “It doesn't make the situation any better, of course, but at least it makes sense.”
With his question answered, Joey reverted to thoughtful silence while the rest of the band discussed the current situation and did their best to come up with a viable next step for their revolution. As far as Paul could tell, there were only a few realistic options. The first would be to try to get behind enemy lines and do their best to destroy as many more garrisons as they could; thereby whittling down the number of legionnaires Grathis had at his disposal.
Another would be to clear out a second safe place for the refugees to hide. It would probably be difficult for them to reach the swamps of Fralmoor, but his companions might be able to come up with some equally undead-free area for them to cleanse. Of course, before they tried to relocate the women and children, they would probably want to recover the vault. That would make moving them a piece of cake. Come to that, it would also allow them to bypass Grathis's forces and reach Fralmoor if they wanted to. That was something their enemies certainly wouldn't expect. So, in reality, their second option seemed to be completely centered on getting the vault back.
A third plan of action would be to destroy another of the dark shards. The more living land there was to hide in, the better off they would be. After all, Robin Hood wouldn't have been much without Sherwood Forest. Being hemmed in by dark lands made the game of hide and seek they were playing extraordinarily difficult. If there were places they could both hide and forage, they would be much better off. Even in the dark lands, some food grew. The paladin was positive that, if it weren't for the power of the shards, they would be able to find more than enough to survive.
“Myra,” he said thoughtfully, “the further away land is from the nearest dark shard, the more alive it is; is that right?”
“It is,” she nodded.
“So, Kafmara is surrounded by dark shards?”
“No,” the former lich replied. “That entire region is actually corrupted by a single shard.”
“Then, why is it that the surrounding countryside isn't all dark lands?”
“The shards can be used to shield areas from their own power,” she explained. “Which means that the lords who control them have the power to protect the living lands of their own realms.”
“Could we do something similar?”
“You mean; protect an area from the corruption of the shards?”
“Exactly,” he nodded. “Could you do that?”
“I might be able to,” she replied. “I hadn't really given it much thought. Our entire cause seemed so hopeless up until just recently, that I hadn't even considered it.”
“But, it's possible?”
“I don't know that it's not possible would be a better way to put it,” the maiden asserted. “Still, even if it could be done, it would likely attract the attention of the undead. It would be rather hard for them to miss it.”
“Even if Nyssa hid the entire area?”
“Probably. That level of power would be... It would be like trying to hide the sun. Even if she managed it, I doubt it would last long.”
“What about The Veil? Could that keep it hidden?”
“Possibly,” she admitted. “Either way, the idea is at least worth considering.”
“Then, consider it,” he smiled.
“Don't worry,” she replied with a smile of her own, “I will.”
Shortly after this conversation, the party stopped for the night. If Telrek's calculations were correct, they would reach their destination before the sun set on the morrow. For the moment, however, both the members of the band and their mounts needed food and rest.
Before the first rays of dawn shattered the darkness on the following morning, they were once again on their way. The day passed quickly and uneventfully and, as had been predicted, the group reached the camp roughly an hour before the sun dipped below the horizon.
They were the first to arrive, but were joined by the foremost of Gregory's scouts perhaps twenty minutes later. Twenty minutes more brought the captain himself into the camp; followed by a number of other Warriors. At his side rode an older man whom Paul had never seen before.
Long gray hair hung down below his shoulders and his beard - which was rather lengthy, but still neatly trimmed - was nearly snow white. His bushy eyebrows hung over a pair of dark and determined eyes and his expression seemed so serious that it almost struck the young man as grim. He was armored in shining plate mail and had a sword hanging from his side; both of these Paul recognized as having originally come from the vault.
The moment their mounts stopped, both Gregory and his companion leapt from their saddles and headed toward the party.
“Thank the gods you're here already,” the captain said, reaching out to take Darek by the wrist. “I believe we've thrown Grathis's forces off our trail, but we may not want to spend the night here. I'm not sure how much distance we've managed to put between us and them.”
“We should be able to find that out without too much difficulty,” Myra asserted. “Nyssa, if you're willing to do a little scouting, I should be able to make it easier for you to spot our enemies.”
“I'd be more than happy to,” the fairy smiled.
“Good,” the former lich said before starting to chant.
The moment her spell ended, she reached out and gently touched Nyssa. Instantly her eyes started to glow with a bright green light.
“This is amazing,” she said, gazing at each of them in turn. “None of you look dead!”
“That's because we're not,” Joey pointed out.
“I guess you're right,” she replied, flying slightly higher into the air. “Let me go find a few undead and see what they look like in comparison. I'll be back in a few minutes.”
Having said this, she shot into the sky above before vanishing completely from sight.
“While we're waiting on her,” Gregory said, turning his eyes to Paul, “allow me to introduce you to General Halfar. General, this is Paul Stevens; the it.”
The old man stepped forward, taking the paladin's right hand in both of his as a wide smile spread across his face and tears filled his eyes.
“I've been waiting for this moment my entire life,” the general said, gazing at the young man's face. “I knew the gods wouldn't let me die before I had seen you. Now that I have, I'm ready for death.”
“It's nice to meet you, too...” Paul replied with a slight touch of embarrassment. “I'll do my best to live up to your expectations of the it.”
“You already are,” the old man assured him. “Without you this revolution would never have gotten this far.”
“Or even gotten started at all,” Gregory speculated.
“Perhaps you're right,” General Halfar ceded. “But, a desire to rebel against the undead is harbored in the heart of every living creature. No amount of oppression or subjugation will ever alter that fact. In truth, this is far from our first attempt to shatter the shackles by which we're bound. It's simply been our most successful so far.”
“That's certainly true, General,” the ogress agreed with a smile. “For the first time in centuries, we actually have a chance of defeating the undead.”
“I'm afraid Lord Grathis probably agrees with you,” the old man observed. “It's good to see you again, Alena. And Sarrac, as well, of course.”
“It's good to see you, too, sir,” the ogre replied, taking the general by the wrist.
“It is,” the ogress added before embracing the old man. “I hope Grathis does agree with me. For the first time in hundreds of years, he has something to fear. I want him to feel it right up unt
il the moment we drive a stake through his putrid heart.”
“I wish I could feel the same, my dear,” General Halfar replied. “Unfortunately, it's not just a matter of the undead being afraid; it's what their response to that fear is likely to be. At the moment, Lord Grathis is probably still under the delusion that the it is nothing more than a myth and our success is the result of good planning and better luck. It's only a matter of time, however, before he realizes the truth and it's not just him that we have to concern ourselves with. Once the surrounding lords understand what a very real threat we are, they'll join forces against us. The willingness of the undead to work together has always been the bane of the living.”
“Yeah,” Paul agreed, “I can see where that would be a problem.”
“And, it's one compounded by our current situation,” the general observed. “Our attacks have gone remarkably well, but our success has brought us more mouths to feed than food. No matter how much the people support our cause, they simply can't give us what we need to supply an army; not to mention a few hundred refugees.”
“It's not quite that many,” the paladin observed.
“Nevertheless,” the old man continued, “we're already running low on provisions. I imagine the same will shortly be true of the women and children you've led to safety. That being the case, we need to acquire a great deal of food in a very short period of time. That means attacking one of the storehouses.”
“Like food storehouses?” Joey asked.
“What kind of storehouse would you expect to find filled with food?” Alena replied, shaking her head. “Try to think for yourself before you ask stupid questions.”
“Okay,” he nodded. “Well, who do these storehouses belong to?”
“The undead,” she replied with a slightly rising inflection.
“Why do they need food?”
“They don't,” Myra explained, “but the living do. The undead collect and store a large portion of everything the fields produce. It's one of the ways they maintain power. People have a hard time rebelling against you if you're in control of the food supply.”
The Fortress of Donmar (The Tales of Zanoth Book 2) Page 21