Storm of Prophecy: Book 1, Dark Awakening (51 page)

In a bright flash of lightning followed by an ear-splitting crack, he was obliterated by Stacy. “Idiot!” She growled in aggravation. Her face was covered in sweat and grime, and her brown hair became disheveled.

Rygan soldiers from behind hesitated to join the fight on either side of them out of fear and uncertainty, having just witnessed the horrors unleashed by the cultists. “What are you waiting for!” A sergeant yelled in an ugly voice before rushing in. His men followed.

Master Anthony let out a tired breath, a bead of sweat going down his face near the edge of his white beard. He held up his right fist, and the gray clouds overhead grew and darkened, crackling with thunder and small flashes of light. He tightened his fist and clenched his jaw, yelling with a quick contraction and release.

Suddenly a colossal purple lightning bolt bigger than Vincent had ever seen came down from the sky. It struck Clyde in a deafening thunderclap, brightening the entire battlefield. The purple light streaked down around an invisible bubble, revealing its outline around the grim horseman and charring the grass ablaze in a circle around him.

Everyone seemed genuinely frightened at how this attack had not produced results and looked about nervously. It was a serious blow to morale, and many thought of fleeing at the sight of the enemy horde rushing their way. Master Anthony however, showed no dismay after seeing it fail, and instead generated more dark clouds. He then directed another intense lightning strike not at Clyde but at a massive throng of zombies well away from their forces.

It struck the ground with incredible power, annihilating thousands of undead with an explosion in its center. Those in it were turned to dust. Those surrounding this focus point were blasted away, their bodies torn apart to varying degrees, and a harsh wind from it slammed the debris into those who stood beyond this. Only a crater remained in the middle of its wake.

A loud, collective cheer went up among those not directly engaged. Another sergeant wearing a wide-rimmed metal helmet, carrying an upright halberd, stepped forward and momentarily let go with one hand. “Come on men!” He yelled loudly, swinging his free arm.

A collective roar resounded as a unit of halberdiers wearing rimmed helmets charged in to assist the beleaguered swordsmen. They crashed into the undead with their metal spear points, thrusting them back from their comrades. Immediately afterward, many chose to retract the weapon, pulling it back and making downward swings with the portion that was an axe-blade. Limbs were chopped off, and blades passed through shoulders, lodging into torsos.

The fighting continued as swordsmen hacked at zombies gripping the ends of their friends’ longer weapons even though the weapons were still impaled or sliced into them. One group of halberdiers made an excellent stand by repelling with their points a number of burning bodies that still managed to reach the front line after pyromancers attacked with over-arching rivers of flame. A few others managed to skewer their victims fatally through the forehead.

Thousands of undead filled the open expanse Anthony had created. Another wave of black arrows flew toward their group. Fire and bolts of lightning shot out to obliterate them, but a few were making it through.

Vincent stood watching one fly straight toward him and then swiftly stepped aside while making a fast swing, chopping it in half. The pieces wriggled on the ground as though alive before becoming small piles of dust. He turned and saw a pyromancer a few feet away from him who had been claimed, a black shaft sticking out woodenly from his chest.

A sorceress moved closer, not sure if he was dead and not knowing what to do. “Sidney?” She asked.

“
Get away from him!” Vincent warned.

Sidney turned toward the woman, and she screamed while backing away at seeing his ghastly face. Though it pained him, Vincent swung hard at his neck as the man lunged at her, removing his head. The headless body fell into her, blood spewing forth onto her dress from its neck. She screamed in horror, pushing away at it and the latently clasping arms.

The few people immediately nearby stared at him for an instant, appalled by his quick and gruesome save or else surprised by his speed, then resumed their volleying against the zombies, adding to the pandemonium. He shared a tight-lipped, stern look with the woman, who had a shocked expression on her blood splattered face, before wordlessly returning his attention to the battle and putting a hand to the bleeding cut on his side.

Sounds of explosions, cutting, slashing, and arrows in flight filled the air. Vincent heard another scream followed by a smashing, wet sound and looked over. He saw the body of a man in blue robes collapsing to the ground, knees first, after there was a spray of blood from his crushed head. Karl’s dripping rock floated back.

Things seemed only to get worse after that. Several hundred of their men had perished, many becoming undead before their fellows were forced to send them to the ground permanently. Compared to their losses, more zombies appeared to have fallen, and the bodies piled, yet this was only a small dent in their total number. The ground, slick with blood, caused a few of the oncoming enemy to slip and fall.

Wizards fell to the enemy while skeletal cultists continued their onslaughts and continued to raise the dead. Terrible apprehension began to creep over Vincent’s soul. The fear and despair was palpable all around, and soldiers were losing their nerve.

Vincent stood his ground, as he had for the vault, wondering if their foe truly was backed by the power of a god. What he beheld appeared far beyond the capability of any necromancer in recorded history. At this rate, they would not survive it.

Flashes of red light, both from arching blazes and explosive sparks, routinely brightened the battlefield. Cracks of lighting added to it and endlessly struck with thunderous sound. Throngs of ravenous dead snarled and attacked unabated even while many in their midst perished from the bands of light. They washed over and over onto the front of their army like waves on a shore. It was a chaos punctured by death screams and the thick smell of blood and rotting flesh.

Karl rushed up to Vincent’s side, grabbing his shirt near his shoulder in both fists. His voice sounded truly terrified. “Vincent, we have to leave!” He looked down with a grimace at the hand Vincent held to cover the bleeding wound on his side, and quickly released him.

Vincent glanced back toward the carnage that ensued, his own profound doubt over their survival clawing at his inner being, and then back toward Karl, who was bleeding in several places as well. “We must not panic,” he insisted, feeling the same fear.

“
Panic?” Karl asked. He grabbed two fistfuls of Vincent’s shirt once again and shook him. “WE MUST CONVINCE MASTER ANTHONY TO ORDER A RETREAT!”

Vincent looked toward Master Anthony and saw the angry look on his face while he unleashed another of his devastating attacks, destroying countless more zombies and kicking up a debris wind that slammed what pieces were left into the enemy. Yet more came. “I don’t think he will listen. Our main difficulty is the cultists. If we can do something about them, maybe we have a chance.”

Karl released him. “But we can’t even hurt them!” He exclaimed, sweeping an arm in their direction. “You saw what happened!”

Vincent firmly looked him in the eye. “There has to be a way!” He insisted.

“
We are losing this!”

“
They must be stopped!”

“
If we don’t flee, it’s only a matter of time before…”

BOOM!

They both flinched and ducked instinctively when a green fire blast pounded a portion of their front line, killing soldiers everywhere. Out of anger, one of the pyromancers yelled and sent a bigger ball of flame straight at the black-hooded skeletons. It disappeared harmlessly. Dead charged in at the breach and large bright streaks of lightning shot forth from Stacy’s hands, shattering their targets at high velocity. Other atmomancers were actively engaged in doing the same, including the man with the metal rod, who for some reason had strange lumps attached to his blue robes. Dead soldiers continued to rise from their own ranks.

“
Snighne!” Arrows flew.

BOOM! More soldiers were killed.

Another volley of black arrows flew toward them. Their fellow wizards were far more attentive this time, destroying nearly all of them. One of Deralon’s men was hit. Another bent down to share a few last words while a third unsheathed a curved blade. The rest continued to drop zombies with almost no misses. Another hail came and a blonde woman in blue robes was claimed. Her friends were not quick.

“
Kill her!” Vincent yelled at them.

When they hesitated, the man with the iron rod finished sending a lightning blast and then swung around to knock her off her feet. He then pinned her immediately to the ground with its end between her breasts near the black arrow while her crazed, ashen arms thrashed. The mustached botanical mage pulled a seed from his bag and tossed it on her.

A green patch of thin sprouts grew into a dense clump, and she continued to thrash even as it grew around her and into the ground. She struggled wildly and uselessly against it, her range of motion becoming more and more restricted. The man with the iron rod removed it, and Vincent watched while her body was enveloped and consumed, becoming nothing more than a green stump in the shape of a person.

A zombie broke through the soldiers and headed straight for the man with the rod. The plant mage flicked a hand toward his friend, and suddenly one of the strange lumps flew off his robes and grew to enormous size, knocking the zombie back as it landed. Brown tendrils whipped around while a dense, wet ball of roots devoured its prey. Leaves began to spread on its tendrils, which grew in size further, whipping about dangerously and ensnaring newcomers. Everyone took several steps back to keep their distance from it.

Several more green fire-blasts flew toward Rygan soldiers, killing many in loud explosions of burning body pieces and rent flesh. Nearby men screamed in pain from shot metal fragments. Most of the burnt dead rose. Soldiers behind were too frightened to join the fray. Another blast of green fire was heading straight for the exhausted wizards, alarming everyone.

Vincent heard a loud growl of intense physical effort, and saw the green ball of flame steer itself upward, going over their men and crashing into the forest behind them. Shields were raised when it made trees explode and lit splinters ablaze. His eyes found Rick, who stood facing toward it with his back to the enemy, hunched over with his hands on his knees and struggling hard just to breathe. Someone leapt at him to push him out of the way as a black arrow flew past and stuck itself in the ground, twitching and trying in futility to get itself free. It seemed that Rick was getting better at it, but what little strength he had left would not suffice.

Men clashed with zombies and dead soldiers alike. More black arrows flew. Light flashed as a frantic and desperate barrage went up to destroy them. With one hand on his sword, Vincent made a panicked swing to hack one out of the air that came unexpectedly, his heart thumping from the quick fright. Another that came late flew toward Karl and he ducked fast. Vincent turned left to look behind his cousin and almost froze. He saw the impossible happen: it changed its direction in mid-flight.

To go back toward Karl.

Karl’s back was to it and he didn’t know. There was no time to give him a warning. Karl stared wide-eyed at Vincent as he kick-shoved him out of the way, making him land on his side. The arrow flew over and then changed course again to go down toward him. Vincent stepped one leg over him and cleaved it in one swift, diagonal swing over his cousin. Karl lifted his hands to protect his face as the two pieces flew off at odd angles.

Vincent shared a look with him when Karl moved his hands away. “They don’t quit,” he explained, stepping back and offering his hand to help him up.

Karl made a strained sound while taking the hand and pulling himself up. Pain shot into Vincent’s side. The sound of explosions and weapons clashing ensued around them as did flashes of light in his peripheral vision. Karl’s blond hair jostled as he stood up and rubbed a hand on the side he had landed on.

BOOM! They both ducked again at the threat of flying metal bits that were once chain mail, then turned their attention toward the enemy.

Karl growled in aggravation. “We must retreat or we’re finished!”

“If we rout now, we
are
finished!”

“
Those cult members will kill us if we don’t! They’re invincible this time!”

Vincent still wasn’t so sure. “How can they be impervious to everything!”

“How should I know!”

“
It’s not possible! They must have a weakness! We just have to find out what it is, and use it!”

“
And how long should we wait to find it!” Karl fired back. “Till we're all dead!”

The blood and carnage continued and Vincent and Karl were each forced to break from arguing to kill a few zombies that managed to just make it through. Deralon’s men fired more arrows. Soldiers with swords, axes, and halberds fought mightily to hold their ground. The plant monster unleashed by the mustached man ensnared more zombies in its tendrils, devouring them. They began to go around it, and the plant mage used his magic to make it grow larger and grab more of them anyway. Master Anthony unleashed another devastating strike.