Terry W. Ervin (3 page)

Just as a second wave of zombies shambled into the gully, the sky flared overhead, and balls of flame darted into the oil-filled barrels. The streambed erupted in flame.

Some smoldering and others in flame, the zombies still strove to reach us. One burning corpse emerged from the fire, and grabbed my spear’s shaft as I drove it back. I yanked it free; the grease had foiled its grip. I silently thanked Road Toad.

A solid weight slammed into me from the side, knocking me to the ground. Guzzy quickly rolled off of me and away as a four-foot log tumbled past where I just stood. I didn’t give a second thought to the crossbow digging into my back. Road Toad stepped forward and cut down the burning spear grabber.

Shrill death shrieks rose on our left. “Fall back,” called our captain. Guzzy and the other surviving picket leaders repeated the order. I followed Road Toad and Guzzy to rally near the bonfire. A distant glow added to the cries on the left, proclaiming the hordes were overrunning White Mule Company.

Captain Plarchett waved his sword high. “Companies form up for quick march. Black Mule Company—” called the captain, but halted his command as, to the southwest, a bursting flare of green fire signaled in the sky high above the trees.

“Gold or White Mule’s been overrun,” said Road Toad, “or retreating.”

We reached the bonfire and the remnants of our company formed into paired lines as ordered. I didn’t want to count how few of us remained. Instead I stared toward the gully where the flames had begun to sputter and zombies, some battle damaged and others fully intact, emerged.

Cradling a broken arm, Corporal Vort appeared from the darkened woods to the rear of our line of march. “Ogres!” he yelled, running. “They’re behind me.”

A few of our number broke ranks and fled. Half the militia that remained looked about, considering it. I’d taken a step in retreat but, scared as I was, stopped and faced front. I couldn’t abandon Guzzy, Road Toad or our captain.

Road Toad and a few other mercenaries turned to face the new menace. The closest I’d ever been to an ogre was an old dust-covered head mounted below the rafters in the cooper’s shop. That ogre head trophy was an undersized runt killed outside of Pine Ridge before I was born. Still, it was big as any bull’s head I’d ever seen.

The captain called to the lesser wizard, “Do what you can to keep the zombies off of us, then lead the men to the bridge.” He hastily pointed to three mercenaries, including Road Toad. “With me.”

Road Toad looked at Guzzy and me. “Come on, Krish and Guz. I think I see two ogres out there. Captain’ll need you.”

I gulped and looked at Guzzy. We’d been trained to fight zombies, not ogres.

Without hesitation Guzzy said, “Come on. Let’s help’em.” He tugged at my shoulder. “We came to fight.”

Road Toad flashed us a grin. We trotted to catch up with the two mercenaries and Captain Plarchett as they strode the direction Vort had pointed.

Seven soldiers hadn’t fled and stood ready as Lesser Wizard Morgan finished his spell. A thin wall of flames six feet high shot up, between us and the closing zombie horde. As the flame wall extended, the bonfire’s flames weakened. “With me, men,” shouted Morgan. “To the bridge.” They turned and ran. Rather than endure the flames, the zombie mass chased after them.

A deep, guttural bellow shattered what had been a silent enemy assault. Two immense figures emerged from the depths of the trees. The ogres stood at least twelve feet tall, even hunched over. They were built like men but far more twisted and muscular. One wore tattered pelts draped over its body. The other, larger ogre wore thick hide boots, crude iron gauntlets, and a skirt built of rusted iron rings of a size that would fit around my wrist. Each carried a formidable spiked mace. The larger ogre clutched Darnard’s broken body in a rusted gauntlet.

The captain stopped and yelled, “Goll statch!”

The gauntleted ogre halted twenty feet away, puffed out its chest and grinned, showing jagged yellow teeth. Their color matched the single stubby horn that curled up from the flat, sloped forehead. The ogre smashed its mace against a tree, causing it to shudder. “Gaaff, da grull haw!”

Road Toad led us in line, ten feet to the left of the captain, and commented, “Captain speaks the foul tongue,” before taking position with shield in hand and sword ready.

One of the mercenaries stood, armed as Road Toad with sword and shield. The other carried a battle axe like Guzzy. I held my spear ready, struggling to keep the tip steady.

“How do we fight these?” asked Guzzy, nervously running his hand along the haft of his axe.

“Cripple them,” said Road Toad. “Then go for the kill. Avoid their attacks. Ogres are quicker than they look.”

I re-examined the behemoths in what remained of the dying firelight. Their skin was mottled, cracked with patches peeling away. It looked tougher than hardened leather. Did Road Toad mean they were quicker than a man? Faster than me?

Captain Plarchett yelled, “Goll grull haw awhk!”

Road Toad let out a snorting laugh. “Our fair captain just insulted them.”

With a roar the ogres charged. The one hurled Darnard’s body at the captain, forcing him to leap to the right.

“Spread out,” warned Road Toad, as the smaller one stomped toward us.

I threw my spear, punching through the ogre’s tattered hides and into its right shoulder. The behemoth didn’t even notice. I drew my sword and backpedaled as it charged, yellow eyes intent on me.

Road Toad ducked under its mace as it stomped past him. Guzzy hewed at its thigh and found flesh, but not deep enough. It yanked my spear from its shoulder and flailed wildly at me with its mace.

I dropped to the ground, under the blow and rolled, avoiding its blunt-toed feet as it came to a stop. The ogre roared in frustration and stomped, trying to crush me. I rolled right, and avoided being smashed by inches.

I shot forward and scrambled to my feet behind the ogre. Sword in hand I turned, preparing for it to come at me again. Road Toad caught the ogre across its wrist, carving deep with his sword. The brute bellowed as it lost its grip on its mace, sending the weapon spinning into the darkness. Guzzy struck his axe deep into the ogre’s left calf and spun away. But the ogre guessed right and thrust my spear, skewering Guzzy through the chest. Encouraged by success, it drove the spear up to the crossbars, and pinned Guzzy to the ground.

“Guzzy!” I screamed. My cousin’s plight stabbed an icy shaft into my heart. Cursing myself as much as the monster, I charged back into the fray. Road Toad sidestepped a kick and cut at the monster’s leg, slicing deep just above the heel. The ogre reached back, grasping for Road Toad. It came away with the mercenary’s shield and in roaring frustration, crushed it with its thick-fingered hand.

The ogre’s right foot gave out when it tried to turn and pursue Road Toad who backed away. The brute stumbled forward to the ground, allowing me to leap onto its back. I stabbed my sword at the base of its skull and missed, grazing its scalp instead. My momentum carried me tumbling over its head and to the ground. Our wounded foe tried to rise but, before it could, Road Toad drove his sword into one of its yellow eyes. The ogre gasped, filling the air with its fetid breath while grasping wildly at the mercenary. With a twisting wrench, Road Toad tore at the ogre’s brain and killed it.

“With me, Krish!” called Road Toad, running to assist the captain.

I ran to help Guzzy. My cousin lay pinned to the damp earth with a pale, stunned look on his face. He couldn’t be dead, I thought. Not yet. I wouldn’t let him die. Blood trickled from his nose and mouth, but he was still breathing.

I reached into my belt pouch for a handful of finely ground white oak bark. It was the only component to the only healing spell I knew. I sprinkled the grainy bark dust around the wound. I’d have to remove the spear before beginning and then work fast. The magic required would kill me, but it might save Guzzy. In the depths of my heart I knew I’d fail. But I had to try.

I began the only chant I knew, the only one my older sister had taught me, while opening my mind to the maelstrom of energy that raged beyond the reach of normal senses. I edged closer, seeking a sliver of the swirling energy, a strand that I recognized. One that I could direct.

I continued to chant while energies buffeted my mind as I delved deeper, seeking to draw upon a strand broader than I could survive. One that might mend Guzzy’s wound. Not completely, but enough until Road Toad and the captain could get him to a Lain Healer. A true healer.

Someone grasped my hands, attempting to break my hold on the spear. I tightened my grip against the feeble tugs, but the lapse in concentration caused me to lose focus on the energy strands. My mind spun and I backed out before I lost my way in the whorl of energies. I held back my despair, knowing I lacked the strength to try again.

“Krish, no.”

The gurgling whisper tugged at my senses. It was Guzzy! I forced my eyes open to see him with his hands on mine. I leaned close and turned my ear to his bloody lips.

“You can’t…”

“I could’ve saved you.”

He feebly shook his head. “No. Fight,” he gasped. “Don’t let them take me.”

“We won’t,” said Road Toad, standing above us, examining the mortal wound. “What’s—” he stared, but didn’t finish. He looked from Guzzy to me. “We’ve got to move now, Krish.”

I let go of the spear and reached for my discarded sword. “We can’t leave him!”

The mercenary stepped on my blade before I could lift it. “Zombies are moving beyond the gully,” he said. He scanned the area before removing his foot from my sword and crouching down. “Fire’s almost out. So’s your time, Leader of our Picket.” He reached into a salt pouch. “You know what I have to do?”

Guzzy nodded.

I looked from Guzzy to the mercenary. “I’ll carry him.”

“One final minute, with him,” Road Toad said. “I must do this before he dies.”

Then I remembered my drill sergeant’s dispassionate voice. “Salt in a death wound will ward off a necromancer’s magic. Either that or maim the body so it can’t walk or fight. Otherwise it’ll become a zombie to march against you.”

I couldn’t sever the tendons in Guzzy’s legs and arms. I wouldn’t let Road Toad do it either.

“Krishhh,” whispered Guzzy. “Tell my pappy…” His eyes widened. “We slew an ogre…fight on for me.” His eyes rolled up, showing their whites.

I held my cousin’s hand. His grip weakened. Tears blurred my vision. “I’m here, Guzzy. I will. I promise.”

“Pops Weasel, over here,” said Road Toad in a harsh, restrained whisper. “Pull the spear.”

The old mercenary placed his foot on Guzzy’s chest and tugged the spear out. Guzzy’s body tightened. Blood flowed from the open wound. Road Toad slapped a fistful of salt into the wound and pressed it in with his fingers.

A few seconds later, Road Toad wiped his leather gauntlets on Guzzy’s padded armor before adjusting my cousin’s body. The mercenary rested Guzzy’s battle axe upon his blood-soaked chest before sliding Guzzy’s sheathed boot dirk into my belt. He placed a hand on my shoulder. “He’s gone.”

“We should be too,” said Pops Weasel after spitting a stream of leaf juice through his rotting front teeth. “No shame in mourning the loss of a comrade.”

I stood. “He was my cousin.”

“Even more reason to mourn,” the old mercenary said, handing me my spear.

I didn’t want it, and pulled my hand back. “No.”

“Take it,” ordered Road Toad. “You fight best with it.”

“Here,” said Pops Weasel, handing me a quiver with a half dozen crossbow bolts. Then he looked up to Road Toad and patted a fattened satchel. “Rations. Didn’t have to do anything for the captain. Took care of Bendell, and that damnable ogre too.”

I looked to where Pops Weasel had pointed. The ogre lay with gauntlets removed and hands severed. Bloodstained gashes lined his boots at the ankles. Its severed head lay two feet to the side.

The mercenary, Bendell, lay with his battle axe like Guzzy. Captain Plarchett, or what was left of his crushed and mangled body, lay heaped at the feet of the ogre. The sword that lay across the body didn’t catch and reflect the waning firelight as I thought it should. The sword wasn’t his.

I looked around, and noted Road Toad’s hilt. I interrupted his whispering of plans to Pops Weasel. “You took Captain Plarchett’s sword.”

My accusatory tone brought a surprised glance from Pops Weasel, but not from Road Toad. “He was a brother,” Road Toad said, and raised his leather-gauntleted right hand. “That is all you need to know.”

A design in the shape of a dog, maybe a fox, leaping over a rising sun showed on the worn leather. It appeared recently re-inked. Twice I’d seen that design on soldiers who’d passed through Pine Ridge, but tattooed on their right palm. I wondered if Pops Weasel’s leather gauntlet bore the mark, and if Road Toad bore the mark on his skin.

Road Toad looked around warily. “We’ll make for the bridge. Try to slip through the enemy lines and cross.” He led the way into the woods, I followed and Pops Weasel trailed behind as we snaked silently through the trees.

We made it to the bridge only to find a host of zombies clustered in two masses eighty yards back, on either side of the road. We might have made a run for it, except for the twenty or so goblins. Their appearance surprised me. Both Road Toad and Pops Weasel frowned, silently meeting each other’s gaze.