Death Rises

by Brian Murray

  The men waited as the Talon Hunter was pushed clear of the debris. The body tumbled down the slope, stopping just short of the men. At the top of the pile another beast appeared. This one too died quickly. The beasts made the hole bigger and more heads, shoulders, and bodies appeared. Swiftly, they slid down the debris and stood before the axe-wielders. They charged.

  The fighting recommenced.

  ***

  The Chosen and Platos spent the morning travelling through the white city. Earlier they had visited the works in the sewers. They visited hospitals and talked to injured warriors who had fought on the mound. There were many dead and the graveyard was rapidly filling. The Chosen knew he would soon have to start burning the dead to stop the spread of disease. From the hospitals, they journeyed onto the barracks. There, they lunched with the warriors in the makeshift mess hall. Again, in the mess hall the emperor and his warlord spoke to the men. The clansmen’s spirits and morale remained high. None of the beasts had penetrated beyond the mound into the city. The men now spoke of victory, whereas before the Dread had attacked, the talk consisted of doom and gloom.

  The Chosen and Platos moved from the barracks to the mound. They walked up the structure and peered out over the sitting army. The beasts milled around, but very little sound came from them.

  That worried the Chosen. “I do not understand,” he whispered.

  “Pardon?”

  The Chosen looked at his friend, Platos. “I do not understand. There are thousands upon thousands of beasts out there and he does not attack. I am sure he could take the city with one attack. I just do not understand.”

  “Let’s just enjoy the rest,” Platos suggested grimly.

  “I would rather be fighting them than sitting around waiting. The waiting is killing me. The Dark One must be waiting for something, but for the life of me, I do not know what the hell it is.”

  “One benefit is it gives a chance for the Rhaurns to arrive,” said Platos, not sure if he believed the Rhaurns were coming.

  “That is true, but it does not sit well with me. There must be something I am missing. He has the power and the numbers to raze my city to the ground, yet he waits.” The Chosen looked over the Dread and shook his head. He had thought the Dark One was toying with him. Now, he was sure. For some reason, the Dark One might be waiting for the Rhaurns to arrive. But why—why would he wait for more enemies to gather around him? The Chosen shrugged and sighed. He looked up and let his face absorb the sunlight. He did not understand. Platos said something, but the Chosen did not hear him.

  “Pardon?”

  “I was just saying it’s a blessing.”

  “Aye,” answered the Chosen, without conviction, “a blessing.” He turned and walked from the mound, his mind pondering the problem. All we can do is wait, he thought. But the man hated waiting.

  ***

  Several more beasts skidded down the debris and were killed instantly by the crossbowmen firing in rotation. The beasts stopped clambering through the small gap at the top of the rubble and started digging again. Badu ordered his men to stand down, but be wary. The scraping noise grew louder now and it was only a matter of time before the creatures were attacking in force. Badu had an idea and used some of the larger lumps of rubble to form a rough wall some ten paces from the collapse. Behind the wall the crossbowmen waited. Some ten paces behind them sat the men who would be using lances. Farther down the corridor, a group of axemen waited playing dice, talking, or sitting in silence.

  Badu was called to the makeshift wall. The gap at the top had expanded where the beasts were digging below it. The swishing sound of sliding sand and the clonking sound of rolling rocks replaced the scraping. The debris pile was quickly being cleared. It now only reached halfway to the ceiling. Now the men by the wall could see the creatures frantically digging and clearing the rubble. An eerie shriek sounded and two creatures charged forward. The fighting erupted again.

  Badu dropped back as crossbow bolts hammered into the charging creatures, stopping them in their tracks. The crossbowmen rotated as more beasts surged forward. Again, the creatures were stopped with iron bolts jutting from their limp, dead bodies. Then the beasts changed their attack. From the murk of the corridor, beyond the rubble, rocks and small boulders were hurled at the men. Not realising the threat, two men from the second row of crossbowmen were hit; the first had his face pulped while the other’s chest was crushed. The rest ducked down below the wall. Rocks and boulders were still being thrown haphazardly at them. Several howls erupted and the beasts attacked under the projectile. Several crossbowmen rose. Two died instantly; rocks smacked and pulverised their faces. Others fired their weapons. Too late. Two Shadows used the protection of their exoskeletons and dived into the wall. The wall crumbled, covering several ducking warriors rearming their crossbows.

  The battle in the corridor began in earnest. The men carrying the lances charged forward to meet the beasts that fought among the crossbowmen. Their long spears did not last long as they snapped under the weight of the dying and dead beasts. Falling back, the lance bearers retrieved their axes and with the other axemen charged forward. The fighting was a bloody frenzy and over the noise, Badu called the first retreat. The men at the front did not hear the command. They grimly stood their ground while the others scurried for safety. Some of the men who heard the command turned to flee, but the beasts did not let them escape. One man just reached the new forward line, but collapsed. The armour and flesh from his back had been ripped away, exposing the man’s white spine. He died. Badu watched in horror as the beasts ripped his men apart. The screams were horrendous, bouncing off the stone floor, ceiling, and walls, multiplying the anguish. Creating another defensive line thirty strides back, more crossbowmen waited. There was no rest. While some of the beasts feasted, other Talon Hunters and Shadows pushed forward relentlessly.

  The beasts attacked the new line of defence. Badu watched the fighting and wondered what Fontis would have done. That was easy to answer—he would have led a counter-charge. But that was not Badu’s way. He prepared another fall back. He wanted to retreat again. A man’s detached arm thudded against Badu’s breastplate and he panicked.

  “RETREAT!” he screamed, his voice full of fear and terror. His men fell back again, but this time they were not orderly, more like a rampaging mob. Badu tried to reform a front line. But the men were frightened. The fear from their leader washed over the men like rainwater. Even the bravest warrior panicked, trying to escape the murderous, rending claws.

  A farther one hundred strides down the corridor, Badu regained some control and formed another front line. Mercifully, the beasts stopped their charge. Badu knew he had been lucky. If the beasts had charged straight away, his line would have been instantly sundered. But now he had time to form the line properly. From the dim corridor, the screams of the dying men echoed over the axe-wielders. Badu knew he should order a charge and regain some ground, but his legs would not obey him; the words would not escape his tight throat. His men looked towards him for encouragement, but all they saw was fear.

  The crunching of bones and tearing of flesh could be heard from down the hall. The coppery scent of blood filled the air and crimson goo covered many of the men. Lucky for the men they could not see their comrades being consumed; they could not see the beasts squabbling over the corpses, but they could imagine it.

  Then it started again.

  A low hissing sound echoed up the corridor, followed by a huge roar. The beasts started throwing rocks towards the men and behind the poorly aimed missiles, they charged. Again, the crossbowmen killed the first few beasts and then they were among the men. Their claws and teeth ripped through the men’s armour to reach the soft flesh below. Gurgling screams of death pierced the thick air. The lance bearers attacked. The beasts pushed through the spears and were soon being hacked by the axemen—the last line of defence. Badu moved farther back and looked over his shoulder. He could just see the daylight from the large double door. They wo
uld soon be running across the open ground. This alone terrified the man, running with those claws aiming for his back. He shivered. A warrior grabbed the captain.

  “What do we do? They’re all over us.”

  Badu stammered for a moment, looking back at the carnage before him. “Fall back!” he yelled, but his voice sounded like a whining shriek. The men who heard him instantly moved back along the corridor, their rear now by the door. The beasts were winning. Soon, the axe-wielders would be in the open. Soon, more reinforcements would reach the Dark One. It seemed fate had determined the axe-wielders would fail.

  ***

  An old man walked over the crossing that spanned the flowing sand moat. Quickly, he scurried across the courtyard and reached the steps before the large door. From inside, he could hear the sounds of fighting. He could hear the screams of death and the beasts’ howling. The old man shivered, for he had heard those howls before. Climbing the steps, the old man entered the gloomy building. He moved among the axe-wielders, noting the fear in their wide eyes. He too was scared, but he had a mission he had to complete. He looked at an axe-wielder and spoke. “Where is your commander?”

  The warrior looked at the old man in disbelief.

  “Where is your commander?”

  The man did not speak, instead pointing farther down the corridor. The old man left the warrior and moved farther into the building. The sounds of fighting flowed over him like rapids, getting closer and closer. He reached the back of the fighting men.

  “Where is your commander?”

  The man looked at the old man and did not answer at first. “What are you doing here, old man?”

  “That is my business. Where is your commander?” he repeated.

  Badu looked at the old man and nodded. “I’m in charge, my name is Captain Badu.” A sharp, gurgling scream caused the captain to jump. The shrill sound was cut short—another death.

  “Come with me,” replied the old man, moving away from the fighting.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Come with me,” ordered the old man. “NOW!”

  Badu followed the man around a corner where the old man waited. “You cannot keep retreating. I need to get to the great hall.”

  “Be my guest,” replied Badu sarcastically.

  “Listen to me,” hissed the old man. “I need you to fight your way to the great hall so I can complete my mission.”

  “What mission?”

  “Let me put it this way. If I do not reach the great hall, then you . . . our king . . . our Kingdom will not survive. All will be finished unless I can get to the great hall.”

  “What’s in there?”

  “I do not have time for this,” snapped the old man irritably.

  “You want me to risk my men. You will tell me what’s in the hall.”

  The old man sighed. “There is a portal in there between this realm and one of darkness. We must gain control of the portal and stop the beasts coming through.”

  “My orders are to hold the corridors the best I can, for a long as I can. You have no authority to change my commands.”

  “Listen to me, you whoreson, all will be lost if we do not get to the hall.” The old man took a deep, calming breath. “Captain, I know there is fear in your eyes and many men will die, but if I do not reach the hall, many, many more men, women, and children will die. Do you understand me? The survival of the Kingdom, the survival of the Phadrine, the survival of everyone rests in your hands. You decide!”

  A scream pierced the stagnant air and a soldier came running up to the captain. “Sir, the beasts have fallen back. Do we retreat again?” asked the axe-wielder, his words a shriek.

  Badu looked into the old man’s eyes. “Who are you?”

  The old man just smiled.

  “How many men do we have?” asked Badu, not removing his gaze from the old man’s intelligent eyes.

  “I don’t know,” shouted the soldier disbelievingly.

  “Then do a rough count!” barked Badu.

  The soldier ran off, leaving the two men staring at each other. He returned moments later after counting the surviving men.

  “Sir, we have about two hundred men who can fight. What are your orders?”

  Badu looked back at the old man.

  “The choice is yours,” said the old man, who closed his eyes and mumbled something.

  Badu cursed and massaged the bridge of his nose between his dirty thumb and forefinger. “You come from nowhere and tell me the survival of all I know is based on my next decision. How do I know you’re not working for the enemy?”

  “You do not. You must trust me.”

  “I’m a bit lacking in trust at this time.”

  Another shrill scream filled the corridor.

  “Your orders,” said the soldier, impatiently waiting by his captain.

  Badu looked at the old man’s leathery face. The flickering torchlight made the creases in the man’s face seem like deep ravines. He held the old man’s gaze. His body might be old, but his eyes were bright and alive. Badu slowly nodded.

  “Form the men into units of ten. In each unit, I want two crossbowmen, three lancer bearers, and the rest axemen. Make sure the others have their axes in their harnesses.”

  “You mean to attack?” asked the soldier, confused.

  “Yes,” snapped Badu. “Enough running; I want to reach the hall. We will take the fight to the beasts.”

  The soldier’s shoulders straightened. He smiled and snapped a crisp salute. “Yes sir.”

  Badu saw the glee in the warrior’s eyes; the man raised his slumped shoulders and smiled. The soldier rushed off to issue his orders. All around him the axe-wielders rose and hefted their axes. They now had a purpose and a chance of revenge for their dead. No more running, they now would fight like axe-wielders and take the fight to the enemy.

  “Okay old man, we will try for the hall.”

  “Thank you, captain.”

  “Don’t thank me, we haven’t got there yet. This is against my better judgement, but hey, let’s have a bash.” Badu turned away from the old man to address his men.

  “AXE-WIELDERS!” he shouted, his voice surprising him—it was strong. “I’ve been asked to take the great hall ahead of us. It’s time to stop running and take the fight to the enemy. We are Rhaurns, no, we are axe-wielders and we have never lost a fight. It will not be said the men within the fortress were the first to lose. Do you hear me? We . . . will . . . not . . . lose . . . We will fight in rolling teams of ten. Those creatures have killed many of our comrades. It’s time for those things to taste axe-wielders’ vengeance. AXE-WIELDERS!” hollered Badu, raising his axe.

  “WE!” bellowed his men in response.

  Not usually a speechmaker, the sound of the reply surprised Badu and he smiled mischievously. “Let’s move!”

  The first ten men charged into the gloom, screaming their war-cries. Following them raced another group of ten. Badu followed the second group with his unit.

  The axe-wielders took the fight to the beasts.

  ***

  Zane, Dax, and Thade travelled with several thousand clansmen across the Steppes. They travelled in front of the main Rhaurn force and scouts kept the king informed of their progress. When the clansmen camped, they kept away from the three companions. They were not rude—quite the opposite, the clansmen were polite when approached by any of the men. With Dax they were even friendly, for many among the clansmen knew him—knew he had done more for the nation than being a famous gladiator. Dax moved from campfire to campfire, swapping coarse jokes and stories, but something concerned the warrior. The clansmen from the Black Cloud clan were not mixing with their countrymen. Most of the other clansmen had put aside their differences as they had a common goal and a common enemy. They knew they would be fighting for their emperor, fighting for their way of life. Dax walked up to the Black Cloud clan’s campfire, but was snubbed. He tried speaking to them, but they only grunted responses at him.

 
; Dax returned to the campfire of the Landbow, whose brethren made up the Chosen’s Imperial Guards. These were the emperor’s personal guards who watched over the palace and followed his every movement. They had made up the force since the clansmen followed the Chosen when he retook his city after the siege by the Darklord and his Dark Brethren. Dax sat down cross-legged with the warriors.

  “What’s wrong with the Black Cloud clan?” he asked one of the clansmen, using their tongue.

  The clansman hawked and spat into the fire. The flames immediately protested with a hiss.

  “They’re trouble, hey. They’re everyone’s enemy and don’t like other clansmen. Their clan made up most of the Imperial Guards before they were killed. They hate us for we now have the honour of protecting our emperor.”

  “Is that all?” replied Dax.

  “No. They’re happy to follow your king into battle as this means saving the Chosen. But they don’t like following a foreign warlord. You should watch your back, aye. They will soon challenge you, aye.”

  “I see,” said Dax, rising slowly. “Which one is their champion?”

  The Landbow clansman looked over his shoulder and pointed to a tall, thickset man sitting facing them. “He is Kallop. That’s their champion. He’s strong and young, aye. He will be the one to challenge you.”

  Dax nodded and walked back to the fire where Zane and Thade were talking and eating some dried meat.

  Thade looked up at Dax and recognised a problem plagued him. “What’s wrong, Dax?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I know you too well, my friend. You cannot hide a problem from me, so what’s wrong?”

  Dax sat down opposite the young men where he could watch the other clansmen behind them. He was about to answer when he saw an argument start. He rose smoothly while Zane and Thade craned their necks to see what had caused the problem. A Landbow clansman was arguing with a Black Cloud warrior. The argument grew more and more heated. The two younger men rose to their feet and peered into the gloomy firelight. Dax walked around the fire and made his way to the argument. The Black Cloud clansman had drawn his dagger and waved it at the Landbow man.