Book 2 : Chapter 24

Jungfrau, Nussegrund

Mallorn the Elf

“Are the artillery pieces repaired yet!?” Mallorn asked quickly, mind racing with plans to intercept the two-headed drake that circled over the approaching army. “Did Marcus tell you?!” 

There wasn’t any chance he could fell it in the air like it was- he’d need to get within melee of the monster. That meant he’d need to anticipate where it was going to go and be ready when it swooped down to attack. 

And there were only two good targets that Mallorn was aware of, the Chosen Heroine and the artillery.

“I don’t know! I haven’t spoken to the man in hours!” Rayne said back, tone filled with panic from the marching feet of thousands of dead. 

Mallorn clicked his tongue. That meant the only valid target was the Chosen Heroine and her band. They’d be on the walls to blast the attackers, which meant…

He reached back to remove his hornbow and quiver, tossing both over to Rayne. “Take that- stay up here and take shots at whatever seems important. I’m going to go find the heroine!”

Rayne fumbled with the bow and quiver for a few moments, shouting indignancies as Mallorn dashed over to the side of the tower. “I- damn you elf! I don’t even know if I can string this monster- and- and I only got one eye!” 

“I believe in you.” Mallorn nodded, then tossed himself over the side of the tower, clinging to the edge briefly, then letting himself fall down along the side. The walls were starting to rouse with alarmed defenders, soldiers moving forwards and back, moving into positions with heavy crossbows in hand and prays on their lips. 

About ten feet from the base of the wall, Mallorn kicked off, sending himself forwards. He hit the floor of the wall and rolled, bleeding off momentum from his fall and leaping into a sprint along the battlements. His eyes were focused on where he was going, but his ears were sharply tuned to the dual-wingbeats of the distant dragon. 

It was holding back, staying roughly above the encroaching army of dead and letting out the occasional screech or two. It was traveling in a vaguely ovoid manner that followed the frontline, approaching the northern side of the walls. Was that where the necromancers were hiding? He wasn’t able to pick them out earlier, so either they were behind something that dampened sound or they were very quiet.

Or there weren’t any necromancers here at all, and he’d have to track them down and murder them later. 

The flames of his axe pulsed with the flow of his mana. 

He pushed through soldiers on the wall- most of which wore basic armor. Helmets, jerkins, gambeson coats, chainmail, the occasional breastplate- an inconsistent array of armor. All had some sort of symbol or motif decorating their outfits- some had a wellspring, some a sun, some a golden dog. Sometimes the symbol was stitched into short capes, sometimes it was painted along their breastplates, and sometimes it was branded on their faces. 

Distantly he realized that, if he failed to perform well, a lot of these men were going to die. No- even if he performed well, chances were that a lot of these men were going to die.

There was weight on his shoulders, one that felt surprisingly gentle, one that was pushing him forwards just a little bit faster than he could run. 

The men he was pushing through and running besides flinched and shuddered, a ripple of terror, echoing fear from the distant shriek of the bone-drake. Hate pulsed through his limbs, warming his blood and making him dash faster. 

Sharp rays of hot light began to lance down from distant walls, splitting straight through lines of dead and turning entire rows of approaching corpses into smoking bone. Either the Chosen Heroine or the sorcerer-elf- further along the wall from him. The bone drake ceased its consistent encircling and began to approach- flying towards the rays of light from the wall.

Briefly, he wondered why the hell the Chosen Heroine or sorcerer-elf was so far away from their initial position. When he had first arrived, they were along the same flank that he was, so he stayed near that tower and-

One ear flicked towards the shuffling army of dead, and his eyes narrowed. “Oh- I’m stupid.” He muttered with the realization, pushing through a tower doorway and sprinting across the wooden floors of the interior. They had to move around to defend against the waves. He was just staying near their most recent defense, not their closest defense. A mistake on his part.

Men began to fire down from the walls at this point, bolts, arrows, and the occasional gonne firing down on a wall of approaching death. The bolts and arrows were dipped in pitch and set ablaze, and fires quickly began to engulf the frontline of the corpse-army. 

Bone giants began to break away from the mass of dead and race forwards in massive, thundering steps. Sprinting forwards across the battlegrounds and straight at the walls. They were lighter than he was expecting them to be, from how quiet the thudding of their bone feet were.

They began to hurl stones at the walls as they ran forwards- stones and corpses. Further along the wall, Mallorn could see the bone drake descend upon the source of the lights, a two-toned scream in its terrible voice. 

Now that it was closer, he could see the tiny form of a rider upon its back, between the wings and holding a pale blue blade aloft. 

The master of the bone dragon, no doubt. He grit his teeth and hefted his axe, turning his gaze back to the battlements ahead. 

A section of the wall exploded back, crumbling as a heavy stone smashed through the thin protective block at the top. Another section was splashed with the messy viscera of old corpses, as dead began to claw their way up and towards the defenders. The defenders were responding with hand-axes and sideswords, cleaving down at them.

He slid into a wide swing, axe cleaving through one of the rising corpses without slowing his pace. It was engulfed in a bright golden flame at once, letting out an unearthly whisper as it fell back to the ground and burned away. 

The bone giants were beginning to climb the walls, bracing themselves against the base and using each other as ladders, lifting high enough to cling to the edge of the walls and swipe at the defenders. Mallorn passed through another tower.

He emerged onto the other side in time to see a giant bone fist smash down on a line of defenders, sweeping them off the walls to fall to their deaths below. He snarled.

“I don’t have time for you!” He roared, leaping forwards and cleaving down. His golden axe smashed straight through the wrist of the bone giant, splitting off the hand and sending the unbalanced corpse falling back off the walls. A bright golden flame licked at its arm as it collapsed.

He immediately pulled back up to speed, coming closer and closer to the two headed dragon that menaced the walls. Only a single tower further along.

He could see it more clearly now- the two headed dragon, one head of an elephant, the other a hippo, both of which were flensed to the bone and supplemented with additional bones from unknown creatures. One set of its four wings extended from the shoulders, and the second set extended from the hips, flapping to buffet the defenders or racing forwards to skewer men with the sharp talons that existed at their tips. 

The rider atop the drake was clad in bones of an off-white hue, one hand holding a sword that flickered with bursts of pale blue light and the other brandishing a shield with something painted across the front. His helmet was long and angular- the skull of some slain creature, and a long black cloak flowed behind him in tatters. 

The pair were attacking the party of the heroine, as well as some soldiers clad in heavy armor that Mallorn didn’t recognize, with snapping jaws chasing away the nearly-nude melee fighters and rays of light splashing off pale blue barriers.

He passed into the final tower, leaping up, kicking off the wall, and soaring over soldiers standing at the entrances giving potshots to the bone drake. 

“-Starma!” A continuous beam of light, bright as the noonday sun, split through the gloom of ash in an instant. It screamed forth from the tip of the sorceress’ golden longhammer, pulsing and drowning out lesser lights.

The rider raised his shield, and the brilliant beam of light splashed against a bubble of pale-blue, diffusing in power rapidly as it passed through and scattered around. Thin streams of smoke rose from rider and bone-dragon both, but neither seemed overly affected by the wave of burning light. 

Its gnashing elephantine head lunged forwards to clamp down around the woman wearing nothing but paint- Hilda.

Mallorn’s axe smashed into its cheek before the jaws could close down, making the beast shriek in ear-splitting volume and stumble to the side. Its head was engulfed in brilliant golden fire immediately, making the rider turn and bone drake pull back.

“Sir Mallorn!”

He immediately dashed forwards to continue the assault, only for the drake to flap both wings and rise back, fleeing from his axe and taking to the air. It did not properly fly, instead moving over to the top of the tower nearby and clinging to the side, letting the rider regard him with wispy, glowing eyes. 

“Get down here so I can kill you!” Mallorn snarled, pulling his axe from a cloven stone and glaring up at the beast. 

The rider looked to the burning elephantine head of its mount, then waved its sword. A bolt, or perhaps a fire, flew from the sword and smashed into the base of the neck. An explosion of pallid light followed, the boney neck being ripped apart and letting the burning skull and stump fall down to the tower. It landed with a heavy thump, still burning.

“I see how you destroyed the first pursuit aircraft now.” The rider spoke in a bizarre, multi-toned voice. Sometimes painfully high, sometimes horribly low, echoing with itself. “From what vault did you pry such a relic?” 

“I’m not going to repeat myself.” He growled, raising the axe up to point at the rider.

“Be careful- he’s warded against our magic.” The elven sorceress called out with a note of exhaustion in her voice. “That shield- it's protecting him. I can fell him if you can pry it from him!”

Yeah right. He was going to murder this dragon and its rider all on his own.

“He can’t sense me- he’s not alive!” The little necromancer woman called out from far behind, near the tower. “You need to destroy his anchor or master to kill him!”

There was no more time for talk, as the bone drake, now missing one of its heads, made a tremendous leap. Soaring over his head and gliding to the other side of the party, it twisted down to lunge at the Chosen Heroine.

She yelped and threw herself forwards, a light winking out at the tip of her mace as she rolled. The bone drake attempted to lunge forwards, interrupted by a feminine form leaping onto its limb, then shoulder, and swinging at the rider. The elven swordswoman was going directly for the throat.

The rider raised his sword and parried the swordswoman, turning slightly in his seat to counter-swing. The swordswoman was already beyond range of his attack, having leapt off almost immediately after the attack. 

The bone drake lunged forwards again, snapping jaws attempting to catch the fleeing heroine- the golden longhammer of the elven sorceress smashed into its jaw, sending it to the side. It recovered almost immediately, not reacting to the injury, and changed targets to the sorceress. The sorceress spun out of the way, longhammer pulling around and smashing into the other side of the drake’s jaw as she moved. 

Mallorn slid, braced off the ground, then leapt. A massive swing of his golden axe delivered directly to the rider.

The rider’s sword flashed, catching his axe by the handle before the swing could complete, slowly turning a baleful glare down at him.

The rider turned just in time for Mallorn’s fist to smash into his face. The rider pulled back, the bone drake flapping its wings, and they were in the air again. The shield rose to smash into his hand, a brilliant flash of pain followed and was ignored- Mallorn stretched out his fingers and clutched onto something rigid beneath the shrouded helmet.

“Absolutely not!” Mallorn snarled, hooking his axe around the rider’s arm, yanking himself back, and kicking off the stump where one bony neck used to be. The rider, firmly clutched, was ripped off his mount.

A few moments later the pair of them crashed back into the battlements. The wind was driven from his lungs with the impact, and he attempted to pull his hand back to shove the-

-A hilt smashed into his helmet, and his vision was filled with stars.

“-wild abandon in the face of terror. You are young, aren’t you elf?” A hand snatched his throat and lifted him into the air. He wheezed furiously, pulling a fist back and smashing it forwards. The rider staggered back, but did not let go of his throat. 

“Be gone.” The pressure was gone from his throat, and the wind was whipping past his ears. His vision cleared in time for him to see the battlements disappear over the stone wall. He turned from the sky, and saw a mass of bones and glowing eyes, glaring up at him.

He had been flung into the horde. 

This was the second time he fell off these fuckin-

His vision flickered, spotty flashes of light and darkness as he fell, smashing through bones and decayed limbs on his way to the ground. The impact with the muddy ground was rough- but far easier this time, with all those zombies to break his fall.

Almost immediately limbs began to grab him, hands seeking to pin him to the earth.

The first thing he noted was how lightweight all these corpses were, as he shoved himself up and chopped his axe around him. A bonfire of golden flame surrounded him, engulfing all the grasping dead around. 

He was knocked down and rolled across the mud, as a centipede of spines and skulls ran him over. A swing of his axe caught its midsection, setting fire to it and briefly blinding him. 

His heartbeat was the loudest sound around, deafening him to anything else. Hot blood rushed through his limbs, compelling him to move, to swing, to-

-burn.

A bone giant trod over, raising both hands up to slam down and crush him. He angled his axe, and the giant’s fists slammed down on its burning blades. Mallorn was forced into the mud again, the impact forcing the breath from his chest yet again, and burying his axe’s pommel into the earth like a golden nail.

The giant staggered back, arms ablaze with golden light. 

Everything around him was on fire, the brilliant golden light of his axe, setting the nearest dead alight and leaping to the next with contact. They were tightly packed here to pile upon him- but that just made the flames spread better. 

They were collapsing now, falling to the earth and bones tumbling apart as the fire devoured something critical to keep them intact. Another giant began to stomp over, and he rushed to rip the axe from the ground and stand up.

The giant paused, pale blue eyes flickering once, then turning a vibrant purple. It knelt, lowering a hand to the ground before him.

“Quickly Sir Mallorn! I can only control it for so long!” The voice of the small necromancer woman called out from high above, on the walls. 

Mallorn grinned, throwing himself forwards onto the giant’s palm. The giant clutched him gently, then swung to throw him up.

Its aim, unfortunately, was pretty bad. Mallorn bounced off the walls and began to slide, halted only by a lucky snag of some block shaken loose from the walls. He shook his head to clear his vision, assessing his situation as fast as he could.

He was only about halfway up the walls now- he needed to-

-He kicked off the walls, letting go of the loose block and throwing a hand out. His grip snagged around the end of a whiplike, boney tail as it thrashed around. One of the bone drake’s two tails, dangling over the edge of the walls as it attacked something unseen. 

He let go at the apex of its swing, sending him up against the stone tower, where another cling got him to the top floor of the tower, clinging off the edge and staring down at the walls.

The heroine and her party were engaging the bone drake and the rider, pressed between the two by a steady assault on both ends. The rider was walking forwards with menace, sword and shield flashing, driving back both the painted woman and the elvish swordswoman both. The drake was snapping at the heroine, kept at bay by the circuitous motions and smashing hammer of the sorceress. 

Mallorn grinned, kicking off the tower and taking his axe in both hands.

The bone drake shrieked as a golden blade smashed through the joint of its wing, cleaving it off with a burst of golden fire. It thrashed, rearing back and twisting to snap its head at the attacker on its back.

Mallorn had jumped again, swinging the axe as he did.

The blade smashed against the cracked skull of the beast, shattering one side and engulfing it in fire. 

“Hilda!” 

Mallorn glanced over, away from the bone drake for just a moment. The painted woman had been impaled by the pale blue blade of the rider, then kicked off. It was at this moment that Mallorn realized how massive the enemy was, at least seven feet or so from how it towered over the unarmored woman.

That moment was a mistake, as the bone drake’s teeth clamped down around his axe and tore away. Mallorn’s grip held for a moment as it swung around-

-His vision went black as it smashed him against the tower wall. 

“-llorn! Sir Mallorn!” The Heroine’s voice pulled him out of the blackness. A soothing, gentle light poured out of her hands, washing over his chest. He blinked, pain filling his slumped body. 

His hand gripped nothing. The panic roused him further. With a groan of pain, he rose, forcing himself to his feet. “My axe- where is-”

“It fell over the edge as the dragon did!” The necromancer said in a panic. “Get up faster please!”

He looked up, shaking away the pain and hand going to the hilt of his sword. An almost drunken clumsiness filled him, slowly banished by the light coming from the Heroine’s palms. Soldiers flanked them with nervous expressions and pounding heartbeats.

The rider smashed the hilt of its sword into the sorceress’ head, sending her to the ground in a slump. Behind him, the pained forms of the painted woman and the swordswoman were trying and failing to pull themselves up. The painted woman with a terrible gash in her side, and the swordswoman with a heavily bleeding leg and desperate eyes.

The rider’s sword rose, another charge of pale blue building around it, Mallorn’s eyes widened and he readied his shield instinctively. 

A long shaft of fletched bone sprouted in the rider’s neck, making him stagger. A moment of elation followed as Mallorn’s gaze flickered over to the distant tower.

That was one of his own arrows- Rayne had made that shot.

The moment of elation turned to horror as the rider’s sword flashed to the side, and the pale blue bolt screamed to the side. In an instant it had crossed the distance to the tower that the arrow had come from, a thundering explosion of ghostly light following.

The tower began to crumble.