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Sir Nicholas -> Dark Waltz, Comments. (3/11/2010 22:06:40)
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http://forums2.battleon.com/f/tm.asp?m=17369127&mpage=1&key=?
My first story in six months, come to fruition.
Author’s Note: Special thanks to John Paul Richie, Nichole Leaycraft, and Breanna DeVries, and to all my family for their blessings and their support, without which this would not be possible.
Three years have passed since the great battle for Elysium, and the Paladin Order has grown and expanded. Many new cities have been created since the dark army’s first true defeat.
However, while the forces of Light have grown stronger – so too have their enemies. The sinister Death Knight, Lord Malum has established his own Order: The Black Knights of Chaos. Every day, more and more people join or are forced into service to his madness.
Many battles have been fought since then, and the paladin Sir William has grown into a powerful force for good.
Many speculate that it is only a matter of time before the young knight becomes a true Champion. The conclusion of our great tale is about to begin, but will the forces of Light triumph? Or will the Dark Powers swallow the world whole?
Holy Knights
Prologue:
Bishop’s Grove, somewhere in the Italian countryside.
The rain poured over the little township of Bishop’s Grove – forcing many of its inhabitants to seek shelter at the inn, or under awnings, or wherever covering could be provided. Anyone outside would be caught in the drizzle and would be soaked. The evening mist hung low over the town, and the night air was cool for this time of year. The cold was so palpable that one’s breath could be easily seen, even in the dark of the night where the only sources of illumination were torches and lampposts.
This did not present a problem for two figures walking through the town’s street however. One male and one female; both hooded and cloaked. They had no trouble piercing the darkness – even without the use of torches. They were strangers, but the people of the Grove were a warm and welcoming people – and they had built a little town on the frontier as a beacon of Humanity on the border of a wasteland.
However, unlike the majority of the weary travelers, they did not seek shelter – but something else.
They did not find what they were looking for, however, instead the man knelt upon the prone form of a child they found on the side of the road near the town’s eastern border.
Barely aged ten, he was still and silent and his body was thin and desiccated. Like the mummified corpse of the kings of old, his limbs were shriveled and his eyes sunken, but from the decay of the flesh, he was but freshly dead.
The man crossed himself and pulled back his hood, allowing his hair – which was long and black to fall loose. His rough cut features were grim with sadness and he looked down at the child’s form with misty eyes. Green and full of pity, they stared down and silently he began to pray.
“Sir William, we must move on.” Said the woman, placing one of her slender hands on the man’s shoulder – as though to comfort him. “This is not a place to grieve.”
“I will not leave this poor soul unburied Sophia.” Replied Will, reaching down and taking the boy’s form into his arms, and he rose in one swift and smooth motion. “God in Heaven, have mercy on this child.” He intoned while carrying the boy aloft, the child’s head held close to his chest. “Lord bless his soul, for he is innocent and deserves only the rewards of Paradise.”
As though reacting to his prayers, the child’s form abruptly began to move. The ‘corpse’ had jerked free of the man’s grip and was on its feet almost immediately. The eye sockets were aglow with green fire, and the boy’s mouth had opened and let out an inhuman screech.
“A ghoul!” Sophia exclaimed, reaching into her robes and pulling out a staff, which extended and energized at her touch. “Be wary paladin. These are not undead – but are of the damned nevertheless. They feed on human flesh – for they are cannibals.”
He nodded and threw aside his cloak – revealing a set of shining plate armor beneath. Strapped to his back was his weapon of choice: A warhammer made from adamantine, blessed and inscribed with runes that were anathema to the demonic.
The ghoul was already on the attack – and its claws raked at his armor, trying to pry open the steel and have at the flesh beneath, but Sir William had drawn his weapon – and he swung, easily bringing it around despite its size and weight.
The hammerhead connected to the creature’s chest, sending it flying until it landed, several yards away with its body pulverized. It lay still and did not rise again.
“Be on your guard.” Sophia warned, her eyes scanning their surroundings. “These creatures often hunt in packs. They live in graveyards and are attracted by the smell of the freshly dead.”
He nodded and shouldered his hammer and though he was unafraid, he kept himself on alert.
He had faced these creatures many times in the past – and had fought far worse than them. There was no way that a small band of these things would defeat a fully trained paladin. Even so, he well remembered the lesson of the past not to underestimate his foes. In this world, survival meant that one had to be wary – and to endure was to be cautious at every turn.
“Here come more of them.” He said grimly, pointing towards the nearest building, and around it stalked many grey and black shapes. Their dull eyes were hardly visible in the dim light, but the stench of them could not be mistaken – and they reeked of carrion. Some wore only bits of cloth and tattered rags, and others were completely bare before the rain. All of them had sharp claws and teeth – and they growled and stalked towards the pair.
“This is just like the time at Fort Swordhood in Germany.” Said Sophia with a grin as she raised her staff in defense. “Do you remember Will? When we fought that horde together?”
He returned the grin. “Indeed I do, my Lady. That was not a year ago, if I recall.” He shot back, brandishing his hammer against the nearest of their foes. The creatures violently recoiled as the radiant aura surrounding the paladin increased in intensity and brightness – and they screamed as both warriors laid into them with their blessed weapons.
A pity that the dead no longer stayed in the ground where they belonged, Will thought as a zombie lurched into his line of sight; one of the true undead – this was a different “breed”. They were slow and ponderous, but were deadly in large numbers, and they did not feel pain or fear.
Unfortunately for them, Sir William was no longer cowed by the horror of it all, no longer the scared orphan boy – homeless and alone. He had grown – and there was no fear or hesitation as he began to fight back. The first zombie fell to his hammer with one swing, and its skull split open like a melon as the blow connected.
The next one was dealt with just as easily, and it was reduced to ashes by the touch of his radiantly glowing hammer.
Another wave had appeared, and they advanced with a single-mindedness that reminded him of a swarm of ants from a hill. Nevertheless, he stood his ground. Keeping his fear under control, he instead channeled it into detestation for these creatures – and transferred that rage into violence.
His gleaming hammer smashed into the stomach of the nearest creature – caving it in and toppling it. Behind him, Sophia was casting spells and intoning prayers of exorcism – repelling her own attackers with swings from her quarterstaff. The elven priestess was right at home when fighting the undead and her powers were similar to William’s. She however relied on a more cerebral approach instead of brute force, and it was also with the mind that she fought – using her knowledge of the creature’s own anatomy against them; striking and smiting whenever a weak-spot presented itself.
So it had been for the past three years that she and Sir William had fought and bled together across countless battlefields. Their bond, forged from mutual respect and trust, had been tempered by their time together and become absolute and sacred.
“The Lord of Heaven has blessed this ground.” She murmured while holding off two of her foes. The glow surrounding Sir William had begun to shift and soon engulfed Sophia as well. “We exorcise you – every unclean spirit: Every demonic power and every incursion of the infernal adversary; be gone from this world.”
The paladin joined in. “Thus do we invoke the name of God – the sacred and terrible name by which those down below tremble.” He said while raising his arms for another blow. “Cursed demons, every diabolical legion and sect – we adjure you. Return to the void from whence you have come!”
The prayer completed, their faith was channeled into white flames. It was like a bomb exploding; and a blast of fire engulfed the surrounding foes and turned them all to ash. Only fading screams remained of those that were hit – and their outlines faded into black mist.
Through the terrible destruction, Sir William sensed that these were only the frontline soldiers – cannon fodder meant to weaken the pair. It was a simple strategy to weigh down the paladin and his companion with the weight of numbers against those that were without fear and without mercy.
Another wave advanced over the ashes of their fallen comrades – indifferent to their losses and the possibility of their destruction. The undead were mindless and did not feel pain or fear – and they almost never fought alone.
They were followed by another pack of ghouls, and in addition – a black smoke-like substance that appeared from beyond the tree line: A pair of glowing red eyes swirled about in the center of the mist – and it radiated a sense of madness and evil. No appendages or limbs were visible – but it let out a screech that chilled even Will’s fierce heart.
“A wraith!” Sophia cried. “Keep your distance, for its touch is deadly!”
Sir William had heard of these kinds of creatures before – animated spirits native to the shadows. They despised bright light and could drain the life of their victims through touch.
“I will handle the ghouls!” Sir William said, raising his hammer in defense. “Sophia, you deal with smoky.”
She nodded, and the paladin was grateful for her cool head. He turned his attention back to the creatures on the ground and analyzed the situation. He counted thirty of them in total, and with Sophia fighting the wraith, he was alone.
Fair odds for any paladin He thought as a mirthless grin spread across his face.
Sir William was a member of a knightly brotherhood called the Paladin Order, and he was at one time the prized protégé of one of its most senior members, Sir Andrew. He had been fully inducted into the Order at age 21, which was 3 years ago. The years had been kind to him – both physically and mentally. He had grown much taller and far stronger from the harsh training and constant warfare.
Will’s appearance was not the only thing that had changed. His power and experience had grown considerably, and he could now call upon greater abilities than he’d ever thought possible. Truly, he thought – Heaven did not know limits. Humans were limited in their scope of the universe – but therein lay the mystery of faith.
It was through their piety that the paladins gained strength. Through it they established a connection with Heaven – and they could unleash that power. Whether for healing or smiting their enemies, that connection would broaden and deepen with time, and the paladin became a living extension of the will of God.
This power was reflected in Sir William as he fought against the ghouls – swinging his hammer left and right in wide arcs, occasionally stopping to blast groups of them into ash with bolts of white lightning from his fingertips. His aura exploded outwards in a blast of fire and gold energy – incinerating the remainder of his opponents.
When the ash had cleared, he looked up and watched as Sophia struggled against her own opponent. The shadowy creature had tried several times to swoop down and snatch her off the ground – but as it did so, she spun her staff and unleashed a spherical coil of energy that tore part of its billowing cloak. The creature shrieked and howled as the elf’s blast ripped through its very essence, draining it.
The paladin watched admiringly as Sophia began to murmur words of power in an arcane language. Her small hands were suffused with a soft golden glow, and she began to direct it towards the wraith – and in moments she completed the incantation.
A bolt of lightning shot from her palms like a crossbow and struck straight and true – and the shadowy creature let loose one final, defiant cry – and vanished.
The paladin playfully thumped his hand against his breastplate, a gesture which she had become familiar with – and he laid his other hand on her shoulder as a token of affection and congratulations.
“I have to hand it to you my Lady, I am truly impressed.” He said, offering her a winning grin. “Very few can banish a wraith with naught but a word.”
She returned the smile, but pushed his arm away – another playful gesture. “You haven’t changed Will: Still such a creep.”
He chuckled to himself – the danger temporarily forgotten as they walked forward, confident that the threat had passed, for the moment at least.
Chapter 1:
Sir William and Sophia had found what they were looking for in the local graveyard. Needless to say the entire place was awash with the undead. Hundreds of them simply lumbered about, hunting for living prey. Clearly a powerful necromancer had used this once sacred ground to build an army of them. The pair had stopped near the outskirts of the necropolis in the shade of a large dead tree – and had spent several minutes readying themselves, both physically and mentally for what was to come.
Chances were that the sorcerer or Death knight commanding here had been up to much more than just digging up the dead and raising them. The stench of black magic was palpable in the air – and Sir William’s shield of faith went up in alarm. The wraith that they had fought earlier was a sign that their enemy was well aware that the paladins would attack his territory sooner or later.
That meant that he was probably well prepared.
Unfortunately for him, so were his enemies. Sophia laid down a kit of her equipment from within her robes, spreading out the usual anti undead weapons and devices: Holy water, silver stakes, relics and even a few specially crafted bombs that harnessed the power of the sun itself. Adradim the dwarf had once shown her how to make them, and she had taken to the art quickly, and found it useful.
“So what’s the plan then?” Will asked, setting aside his hammer for a moment and checking all the joints and spots on his armor, making sure that they were properly adjusted. “I take it that our options are limited to stealth or to barging in spells blazing and singing ‘we’re here to free this land of the undead – come and have a go if you think you’re good enough!’ – am I right?”
She looked at him with a serious expression, and he sobered. Normally she might engage him – but her eyes indicated this wasn’t the proper time for jokes.
“Sorry.” He said sheepishly, rubbing the backside of his head with one hand. “But really, we had best go about this with caution. No doubt the enemy won’t be giving us a second chance.”
“I have a feeling you’re right.” She replied at last, attuning her staff with holy water. “Though I must admit – it is good to see your sense of humor has returned.” She added with a smile. “I had thought the cheerful young man I met all those years ago was gone for good.”
He withdrew, only for a moment, but he then grinned winningly. “Well – he’s always been there. I had thought you preferred the strong silent type – but now I realize you prefer the other me that can make you laugh!”
She nodded and silently approved of the sudden change in his mood. She had always worried about Sir William, especially since he had lost the only father figure he had ever known – during that fateful day some three years ago. The battles since then had hardened him, and though she had known he would emerge stronger for it, a part of her wondered if he was still that hurting young man that she had first met.
She realized he had a penchant for burying his emotions beneath his actions and a wicked wit, but in the years she had known him – he seemed to finally begin to open up to her. Truth be told it was nice, even for that short time, to see him actually try to impress her. It made her think there was still some piece of his former good cheer left in him, and the thought comforted her.
“Let us go, we have an enemy that demands our ministrations.”
The further the pair ventured into the graveyard, the faster and more numerous came the undead. At one point the monsters attacked in such numbers that the two living fighters found themselves back-to-back, ducking and dodging every attacker and dispatching them with single blows.
Once again, Sir William found the Light swell up inside him, and a single radiant voice sprang up in his mind – singing a sustained note – and it was followed by another. And then another, until there was a silvery choir that drowned out all the din of battle.
This was the connection with Heaven, he thought fuzzily – and the undead were weakened by its power, and his weapon was a conduit for that bond. It channeled and directed the Light and it protected him. That was the reason why he had chosen a hammer as his primary weapon – a symbolic way of passing his judgment upon the enemy. That was why his hammer so resembled a judge’s gavel.
The hammer erupted into flames as it connected with the enemy – either reducing them to black ash or crushing them into pulp. Rotten limbs and desiccated bodies were pulverized beneath him, while those still standing were consumed by the radiant aura. He swung again, sweeping and bashing aside every zombie that stood in his way. Claws and teeth raked ineffectually across his armor, searching for a weak-spot.
Sophia was behind him the whole way, casting spells and fending off the creatures with her quarterstaff. Her movements were much faster than his, and she was graceful and cerebral in her blows – no less deadly despite her small frame.
Slowly but surely the pair made their way through the hordes of the contorted fiends towards the graveyard’s entrance – and they were making steady progress with the number of creatures they had already killed. The iron gates of the cemetery were old and rusted shut, but the undead seemed to have no trouble scaling its walls as they went on the attack.
“Will, get the door!” Sophia called over her shoulder during a lull in the fighting. “I will cover you.”
Without hesitation, Will broke into a run and shoved his way through the creatures attempting to impede him. Clutching his hammer’s haft with both hands, he brought it down with all his strength – shattering the gate and knocking both of the doors clean off their hinges. The creatures paused only for a moment – but that was all he needed, and he sheared the heads off of two of them before the rest scattered and fled.
Having a moment of rest, Will leaned on his hammer and tried to catch his breath and collect his thoughts. The undead never ran from a fight unless called by their master – which meant that their presence was known to their enemy, and chances were this meant they would soon be attacked by the largest and strongest creatures in the swarm.
Sophia cast a healing spell – and he felt himself refreshed as the light enveloped him in a brief flash. The aches and pains from swinging his hammer and lugging around his set of heavy armor had vanished, and he was fully recovered.
They stared at each other in respect for a moment. For only an instant their eyes were locked together and all the troubles of the world felt far away. Sir William had always thought Sophia to be attractive, right from the minute he’d laid eyes on her – but he could not help but now see her, quite literally, in a whole new light.
The illusion was broken as the telltale sound of the shuffling feet echoed across the graveyard. Both living fighters turned their heads – and were greeted by the hideous sight of another horde of zombies lurching towards them. It was far larger in size than the previous waves – and creatures of all sizes were approaching; from the miniscule to beasts the size of horses.
“They don’t give up do they?” Sir William asked rhetorically and tightened his grip on the haft of his hammer. “I have a feeling we’re drawing closer to our goal. The necromancer that commands here must be nearby. Can you handle this on your own?” He turned to her with a look of concern. “We will find him faster if we split up, though I wonder if…”
Her cold glare stopped him in midsentence, and he remembered just who he was talking to. She drew back her staff into a fighting stance and flashed him a wink and a reassuring smile.
“Good hunting paladin. Try not to take too long – I have much to keep me busy, but we don’t have time for games.”
And with that, she was off in a swirl of red and gold; spraying fire and gold energy from her weapon – bringing down a number of her foes.
Sir William watched her go, but only for a moment, and he turned his attention to the east – and he ran.
It hadn’t been too difficult to navigate his way through the remaining hordes that attempted to impede his progress – until at last he found what he was looking for: A crypt larger and more ornately built than all the surrounding graves. It was likewise more heavily guarded, for a full battalion of skeleton knights stood vigil over the entrance.
These it seemed were stronger and more intelligent than the filth the undead threw into the thick of it – and they wore heavy armor and carried massive swords of dark iron.
Where another champion might hesitate, Sir William was resolute. He had been taught that the paladins were the last line of defense – and that if they faltered, Humanity would not survive. That was why they fought – to uphold the will of God and to ensure that Mankind saw another dawn.
Truth be told, there was also more to it than that. Will did not just fight out of duty – he fought because it was fun. As he laid into the first of the skeletons, he enjoyed it, every minute of it – the rush of the adrenaline, the thrill of fighting for his life, the challenge of testing his strength against the unholy – everything. In the time that he had matured, he discovered that the intensity of the battles fought excited him greatly.
The thought of slaying other humans had always slightly disturbed him, but these were not men anymore – they were carcasses devoid of souls. It was easy to think of them in this way.
The hammer flared with power and he felt the comforting embrace envelop him. The creatures spreading out to surround him violently recoiled as they were exposed to it, and Will took this opportunity to destroy several of them with single swings – and their bones were scattered and smashed, armor dented and swords broken before the onslaught.
He turned again, this time unleashing his full power against the entire group – and forked lightning appeared from his fingertips and jetted through the whole lot of them, sparking and crackling with energy. The creatures shrieked briefly as they were hit before they collapsed. Their remains steamed and smelled with odors that made his stomach turn.
Ignoring the feeling of dread that pitted in his stomach, Sir William slammed his hammer into the great stone door – smashing it into pieces with one blow. Beneath was a long staircase that descended into a murky blackness. Raising his hammer like an improvised torch, the paladin made his way down.
Chapter 2:
Sophia ducked and wove around the mass of foes before her, casting spells and cutting into them with the sharp edge at the end of her staff – occasionally stopping to draw a quick breath. The corpses of at least a dozen of the creatures lay around her, now truly dead. She hefted the weight of her quarterstaff over her shoulder and lunged – piercing one of the attacking ghouls through the chin and digging the edge into its head.
Turning aside, she easily hefted the creature off the ground and sent it flying into a cluster of its brethren. With that, she leaped and tumbled over the heads of a number of her attackers – simultaneously firing bolts of electricity into their ranks – frying several of them. The arc of lightning cast through their slender frames like rods, and they fell stiff and silent.
She was sure that she could hold her own against them, provided that not too many came at her at once.
The battles she had fought had been long and draining, but fortunately priests were well versed in the arts of healing and rejuvenation. Moreover, the fewer undead that could oppose Sir William were enemies that were now assaulting her – a thought which pleased her, gave her strength to lift her weary arms for another blow.
Finally the creatures began to change their strategy – which she took as a sign that she was making progress. Though the undead themselves were mindless automatons, the powers controlling them had recognized her and the paladin as a threat. They knew that simply barreling towards her from one direction would not suffice.
Instead, the larger beasts were forced into the front ranks – where they would take the brunt of her magic. The lesser creatures would then push forward when the last of them had fallen or when they had surrounded her. Every time, however, she would duck or leap out of a cluster of her foes, leaving behind a surging blast of energy that destroyed all of her attackers.
The battle raged on, and she steadily felt her mana reserves giving way to the seemingly infinite hordes of creatures that attacked her – though she powered on through with sheer determination.
Abruptly, the horde stopped – and the beasts went stiff and silent – as though the necromancer controlling them had suddenly abandoned the effort.
Sophia took this moment to regroup, both mentally and physically – and she caught her breath, silently mouthing a prayer of thanks for the timely break from the fighting.
Her thoughts kept returning to Sir William, and suddenly she began to worry about him. Though she knew the paladin could handle himself in a fight – more so than herself, it was still natural that she thought of him.
They had spent much time together in the past few years, and they had grown close as friends. Mutual trust had given way to respect – forged and tempered by the number of times that they had saved each other’s lives.
She wondered though, how much the events in recent years had changed him. He had become more mature, certainly – definitely wiser and no longer so hot headed, but he often kept to himself. True – losing the man he had thought of as a father figure weighed heavily on his mind, but he had often claimed that he was no longer affected by that memory. His behavior however had convinced her otherwise.
The paladin had lately been prone to dark moods and moments of brooding, though Justinian, the Grand Master had said this was normal for the boy.
As Sophia gathered her thoughts, one shined above them all – a wondering of where this war would take the troubled paladin.
Sir William had indeed been in a foul temper as he descended through the depths of the crypt. Walking through the sepulcher with nothing but his hammer and his armor to light his way through – he was surrounded on all sides by shadows. It was enough to unsettle him, but not deter him. Very little truly bothered him – as he was a warrior of light; raised and trained to harness that fear and turn it into an implacable will to live.
His journey through the cavern had been peaceful – though unnerving. No enemies or obstacle had blocked him, but still that just made him even more suspicious. Usually the Necromancers would bar the way to their lairs with multitudes of deadly traps – or guards. This one was completely silent and still – and there was a thick coating of dust throughout the walls – and cobwebs, as though no one had intruded in this place for many years.
He had fought through many tombs and places such as this one in the past three years. Every time he had emerged victorious – eliminating many sorcerers and strongholds, crushing hundreds of undead and feeling his powers grow with every victory.
This was something different however, for the further in he went – the more the shadows danced and flitted across the walls – and the more enclosed the space seemed to become. He felt the air stifle and become cold – and his footsteps began to echo through the narrow corridor.
I never did like tight spaces He thought. The sooner I complete my mission, the sooner I can get out of here. This tunnel surely can’t go on for much longer.
But it did. Onwards and downwards – further into the depths until the sound of the rain outside had become but a distant memory.
Soon, Will was beginning to wonder if the shadows were really just images on the wall – or if they might just lash out at him. Then common sense and reason kicked in and he shook his head. Though wraiths were an enemy that often could be found among the demonic armies, rare were the times when they actually decided to hide underground.
Still, every so often Will would pause to gather his breath and his thoughts. The air had become thick and nearly chilled him to the bone, and he had to pull his cloak more tightly around his shoulders. His armor could protect him from some of the cold, but it was designed primarily to reduce the shock from impacts of swords and spears and arrows, not the elements.
Somewhere among his thoughts he wondered what it was that made the necromancers so inclined to the cold – and the dark, but he decided that he didn’t care.
Eventually, a glint of magical energy from a far off wall drew his attention forward – curious, he sauntered over and examined it, and the light radiated from his armor illuminated the intricate carvings, which were colored and ornately detailed.
Drawn right into the stone were pictures – most of them depicting humans wearing black clothes – standing around what looked like a great crater in the middle of a vast desert. The skies above them were blackened and the sun obscured by the clouds.
The next panel depicted another scene, this one inside the enormous fissure. From the depths, hideous creatures emerged – and all of them had scorching red eyes and sported many limbs or disfigurements. They were clearly inhuman, and yet they were somehow familiar.
Then it hit him – this was an ancient structure – one far beyond even the oldest records in the archives. It was showing him what had happened in the distant past – when the demonic hordes had first emerged, not from some other world – but from within the Earth itself. That made sense – and why the demonic horde had brought with them a foul air and dark clouds – the sun itself was harmful to them.
He had seen them appear from the ground, but he had thought they buried themselves in the earth to wait for prey, but never did he suspect that they instead emerged from some subterranean underworld. At a guess, there may have been some hidden passage to their home dimension, somewhere deep beneath the surface.
Before he could figure out what that meant – there came another distraction from the end of the tunnel to his left – and he fleetingly realized he had reached the bottom of the long corridor. There came the sound of the clanking of rusted metal and the long squeak of hinges turning – and then a light abruptly shone in his eyes – nearly blinding him, as a door was opened.
He walked forward unafraid but somewhat unsettled at the fact his enemy was aware of his presence. He gripped the shaft of his hammer uneasily, but firmly and looked around the chamber in horror.
Multiple corpses hung on meat-hooks on the ceiling, suspended by thick chains. Some of the bodies had been roughly bandaged or sewn together using different limbs – and in other places there were unfinished “experiments” constructed from the gruesome amalgamation of flesh and bone grafted onto metal frames.
It was like a factory of the unholy, and it had to be stopped.
Will grasped his hammer with both hands, muttered a solemn prayer, and charged.
Chapter 3:
A convoy of necromancers and undead steadily marched throughout the forest of the Pontic Mountains, intent on bringing supplies and troops to the forces besieging the Holy Lands further west, where the majority of Lord Ghull’s army had been positioned for the past several years.
A lieutenant of Lord Malum, he was a ruthless commander that had been given charge over the operations in Turkey. His orders were to establish a second front in the east so that the forces attacking from the north through the Lebanon could have a window of opportunity to invade the Holy Land directly.
Little did the fools realize there was a company of rangers waiting for the moment to strike. The leader of the group, a young woman by the name of Gwendolyn silently watched from her perch in between two pine trees. Around her were her forces, having traded the majority of their armor for leather and brown hued robes that would offer some measure of camouflage amidst the foliage.
Throughout most of the early crusades, the Pontic regions had been the staging area for the Necromancers. Troops passing through from the south and east would often use this forest for wood and fuel – and for the strategic location it occupied as a major resupply base for armies moving to and from the Black Sea to the north or throughout central Turkey to the west.
Large portions of the forest had been cleared away in those years – and the lumber that was taken was used to build fortifications and bases and outposts for the Dark Army as it advanced. Despite this, the area was left undermanned for many years – because the focus of the fighting had long shifted to the north into southern and eastern Europe.
However, while operations in this area had been slowed for a time, the renewal of Lord Malum’s crusade had seen the entire region again become alive with the hustle and bustle of industry and troop movements.
That is until the raids from the Crimean Raiders began.
No one was sure what had stirred them to action. Maybe it was by the request of the Order, or maybe it was the idea of the Chaos Knights expanding further north into the Slavic lands that had brought them down into Turkey.
Whatever the cause, large numbers of Slavic and Eastern troops from the Czar’s domain would mass and launch surprise attacks into enemy occupied lands during this time of year, especially in the winter, when the necromancer’s progress was slowed by the cold weather. The sorcerers sent by Lord Malum had found their efforts to drive the invaders out stymied time after time due to their intimate knowledge of fighting in forested areas.
And given that they could not simply burn the entire forest down due to a pressing need for lumber – the Dark Army had instead resorted to using large armies to transport their supplies. What no one had counted on was the fact that the raiders had intended this all along: As it gave them a chance to show their strength against numerically superior opponents.
Gwendolyn signaled her troops with hand gestures, and grabbed her bow from her back – and readied an arrow. Around her, the raiders did the same and picked individual targets among the passing companies of the undead forces. Because the majority of the forces composing this army were ones that did not feel pain or fear, it fell instead to target the living commanders; individual sorcerers or Death Knights that led the beasts into battle.
If their control were disrupted, even for a moment – the magic sustaining their forces would dissipate and the army would collapse.
For many days the raiders had been tracking the hideous army, ambushing individual companies and breaking down their command structure one little bit at a time. Dispatching one necromancer here or there had slowed the enemy’s progress, but it was now time to end this here. If the enemy were allowed to conquer the Holy Land, morale throughout Europe would plummet.
Better to snuff out the threat here and now.
Gwen took aim at the lead figure at the head of the army: A tall and regal figure carrying a banner, the heraldry of which depicted a small elongated skull with a knife jutting from the top. This was clearly an army sent from Mist-Peak, which was in the Far East. The herald was completely unaware of her warriors, and he had neglected to post scouts or advance units.
The closer he drew towards her hiding place, the smaller her window of opportunity to attack – but still she waited, the seconds ticking by. The archers around her hesitated, though they had been eager to engage the enemy and finish this battle – they obeyed, waiting for the signal.
Finally she drew back her arrow and released. The shaft was sent sailing through the air and buried itself in the herald’s neck – a clean hit. All around her the other raiders were doing the same – picking out targets and bringing them down with single shots.
The undead forces in the advance ranks parted and scattered almost immediately as confusion gripped the living commanders. The continuing fire from the other raiders that Gwen had positioned on the opposite side of the gorge had provided them a measure of cover and concealment, and it also added to the illusion that her forces could strike from anywhere and then vanish without a trace.
Against the hideous creatures in the bulk of the army, this would do very little – but at least it kept the sorcerers from pinpointing their location, and when added to the fact the undead did not think – this turned their greatest strength against them. Another hand signal and her warriors ceased fire immediately, instead pulling back for the second phase of her plan.
Gwen shouldered her bow and was off as quick as her feet could take her. She had sacrificed armor in the way of speed – and her light frame made her a difficult target, especially with the level of agility she had trained to. She leaped up and over several fallen logs, and one of her raiders had thrown her a short sword.
She caught it effortlessly and drew the blade from its scabbard, and with that she cut the ropes sustaining the trap.
So the Black Knights want lumber? They can have it. She thought with a smirk.
It was with a satisfaction she had not felt in years that she watched as the logs rolled down the hill – at least a dozen of them. They were enormous; cut from the ancient trees within the forest and carried up the summit for this very purpose. The entire mechanism was simple but extremely effective – and in moments the enemy’s leading company had been flattened or scattered as the remaining forces tried to reform their ranks, despite losing hundreds of their number to the crude trick.
“Lady Gwendolyn.”
The ranger stopped what she was doing and turned at the sound. One of her scouts had appeared, saluted and waited for her to fully turn her attention to him.
“What is it soldier?” She asked, slightly annoyed at the interruption. “Speak quickly.”
“Yes ma’am. We have had reports that another army is massing to the east. Apparently, they were laying in wait just a few leagues from our position, waiting for us to launch our attack. Mostly skeletal riders and some hunter demons, forming up on their center and marching through the forest – heading right this way.”
Damn it, she thought grimly, the cursed demons had known that she would strike at this army, and so they had prepared a second one. It seemed as though their commander was totally unconcerned with their losses. Even if the raiders could somehow destroy this army, they would be weakened and left unprepared for the next attack.
Her mind was buzzing with unanswered questions. How did the enemy get so many troops in such a short time? Where did they get all the supplies and resources? But principal among them was to wonder just how powerful – how terrible was this Death Knight, Lord Malum, that he could command such an army?
Out of all of Gwen’s doubts, there was one thing – a shining certainty that kept her going.
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