Sunset of Lantonne (27 page)

Turning and scrambling up the steps, Ilarra practically leapt into Raeln’s arms as he pulled her inside. She hurriedly got out of the way as Greth and Raeln shut the doors just as groans outside neared.

They no sooner had barred the door than multiple impacts against the outside signaled the arrival of the undead forces.

“Someone make the horn call for the people still out there!” Ilarra shouted over the fearful murmurings of the villagers.

At the far end of the room, she saw a young man run up the steps to the upper story, where the signal horns were always kept.

Incessant pounding at the door made Ilarra move away, though the doors held and did not so much as move.

“The warriors are coming back!” someone shouted from upstairs, making Raeln frown as he stared at the bar on the doors.

Raeln motioned to Greth and a burly elven youth, then pointed to the bar. The others took up positions at either end of the bar, then looked to Raeln. Centering himself where the doors came together, Raeln took a deep breath and nodded at the men.

With a heave, the two men threw aside the bar, unlocking the doors. As they did, the doors were kicked inwards by dozens of groaning corpses, reaching for the first target they could see…Raeln.

Ilarra could see past Raeln that there were no less than thirty of the creatures, all milling at the entrance to the library, trying to get past the handful that were stumbling into the now-open doorway. Beyond their group, Rolus, Ishande, and three more warriors were fighting a second, smaller group of dead, slowly making their way toward the building. They would have to go straight through the undead on the steps to get inside. The rest of the hunters and warriors were either somewhere else or dead already.

In horror, Ilarra realized that the child she had seen was clinging to Rolus’ leg, trying to bite him. She was one of the undead.

Silent as death, Raeln practically closed his eyes as he began kicking and punching at the undead, while blocking with his forearms, an intricate dance that broke bones and knocked his targets aside. Even if the dead could not feel the pain from his powerful strikes, their bodies could still be moved and thrown, disrupting the charge of those behind them as he used the slavering creatures’ momentum against them.

Waiting where Raeln had begun his charge, Ilarra did what little she could to slow the zombies that slipped past Raeln. He took care of nearly all those on the stairs as he made his way toward Ishande and Rolus, but several times Ilarra had to call forth magic to knock an undead away that had slipped over the sides of the staircase. The magic did nothing to stop the creatures, but it did slow and push them away, clearing Raeln’s path a little. It was about the only spell she knew that might even do that much, and it was as strong as she could manage without making herself sick. Even that she could feel sapping her strength and knew that, if Raeln did not hurry, she would be unable to help even that much. It was humiliating knowing that for all the power at her disposal, she could do little more than what Raeln could manage with a few casual swings of his fist.

It took Raeln about two minutes to reach the others, while Greth and two hunters fell in at Ilarra’s sides, wielding swords to keep the undead from getting onto the last step. The creatures snarled and hissed, but did not so much as recoil from the injuries the men dealt them.

Once Raeln was past the main group of undead, he pushed into the other group, letting Ishande and Rolus begin moving as the undead tried to deal with attacks from ahead and behind. None of the zombies stayed down, but it was enough to get everyone running toward the library, with Ishande and Rolus at the rear of the small group and Raeln leading the way back through the creatures he had just fought past.

“Give them an opening!” Ilarra said loudly, hoping the others could hear her.

Using magical blasts to knock creatures aside as quickly as she could, Ilarra felt as though she were going to vomit at any moment. The magic was draining her faster than she cared to admit, but she was not about to stop so long as Raeln was outside. She would find a way to keep fighting until those doors were closed again, even if it killed her.

At her sides, the hunters and Greth fought just as hard, pushing their way out onto the top step as Raeln reached them. They held back the flood of broken bodies that tried to force their way into the room as Raeln dove inside, covered in sickly black blood that was likely a mix of his own and the corpses’. He was immediately followed by two of the warriors he had gone to save.

A second later, Ishande slid past the doors and collapsed near Raeln as she clutched dozens of bleeding wounds. She grinned happily at the people inside, looking more exhilarated than hurt or afraid as she tied off a tourniquet on her arm to slow the blood-loss.

Rolus was the last to run for the door, with Greth and the others beginning to fall back. He started to pass the hunters guarding the door, then fell right at Ilarra’s feet.

Looking past the fallen man, Ilarra saw that the undead child lay on the steps, clutching Rolus’ ankle. The creature snarled and tugged, pulling the man back as more of the fallen zombies grabbed him.

“Get him!” Ilarra cried, grabbing Rolus’ wrists.

The others were a little slower, still fighting off the undead to keep the doors from being overrun. In the second before a young man reached for Rolus, two more undead grabbed his legs and yanked him right out of Ilarra’s grip, practically throwing him out into the crowd of bloodthirsty undead.

Ilarra screamed as she saw blood, and then Greth slammed into her and drug her back into the library.

“Lock it!” Greth shouted at the others, who hurriedly did as he said. “Get the wounded to the back. Any soldier still able to fight, stand at a window or these doors. Archers, get to the roof! If you see anyone standing around staring, replace them until the shock wears off!”

Lying on the floor near the doors as they were barred again, Ilarra stared in disbelief at the spot where Rolus had been a moment earlier. She had seen the look in his eyes as he had realized that he was being pulled away and it made her insides twist. The thought of that kind of terror on a warrior made her think of her father or Raeln being dragged down like that…

“Wake up, elf,” said Greth, kneeling in front of her. He looked over her face, then checked her arms. “You aren’t hurt. You need to keep fighting.”

“I…I can’t. I’m no warrior.”

“You have magic. Use it,” he told her gruffly, then stepped back in a hurry as Raeln came over. “I guess if you’re both going to be sitting here panicking, I’ll go check on the wounded.”

Greth walked away, matching Raeln’s glowering stare as he went.

“How many died out there?” Ilarra asked Raeln as he knelt beside her, facing the rumbling door.

Cocking his head a little to show he was not sure, Raeln held up six fingers, then shook his head and held up eight. After a second, he shrugged and shook his head. He had no idea.

“Why are they here?” Ilarra whispered, though she knew no one had any idea. Just voicing the question helped in some small way.

“I need a healer back here!” shouted Greth, his voice cracking. “Now!”

Forcing herself to stand, Ilarra staggered toward the back of the library, where most of the villagers were milling about the wounded. Along the back wall where there were no windows, Greth was kneeling in the middle of the five injured that had been taken there, clutching Ishande’s hand.

Violently trembling, the wolf-woman was making her already severe wounds bleed all the more. Blood had begun to trickle from the edges of her muzzle from having bit into her own tongue.

“She’s having some kind of fit,” Greth announced as Ilarra came over. He clamped his free hand on Ishande’s muzzle, keeping her mouth shut tightly. Snarling angrily, he ripped a piece of leather from the armor of a hunter standing near him and shoved it into Ishande’s mouth to keep her from tearing into her tongue further. “She’ll lose her tongue if she keeps thrashing like this. Where is the healer?”

Ilarra scanned the faces of the people around them, then shook her head. “He would be here if he were alive. My guess is that he was one of those caught outside.”

Reaching out as she settled to the floor, Ilarra rested her hand on Ishande’s head near her ears. Heat radiated so strongly it was uncomfortable to touch her. In the time since Ilarra had sat down, Ishande’s eyes had rolled back and she choked and her body began jerking violently while the smaller shakes continued.

“You know what’s happening. I can see it in both your faces,” muttered Greth, looking first to Ilarra, then past her at Raeln. “What is this? She’s hurt badly, but I’ve never seen anything like this. Poison? Disease? Magic? What is it?”

“Her bonded has died,” whispered an older elven woman nearby, shaking her head. “Poor thing.”

Greth’s confusion was mixed with anger. “Explain. Use small words for the savage.”

“Her body is having trouble coping as age catches up with her,” Ilarra said sadly. She took her hands away from Ishande. “When Rolus died, it severed the bond.”

“I have no idea what that means. Is this the same thing with you two?”

Ilarra nodded and looked back at Raeln. When she did, she saw that he was watching Ishande not with the sorrow of one watching another die, but with the fear of knowing it could, or would, happen to him as well.

“So her elf buddy dies and it kills her, too?” demanded Greth, shifting his hand from Ishande’s muzzle to her chest in an effort to minimize the damage she was doing to herself. “How old is she? She looks no more than six.”

“Twenty-four, give or take,” Ilarra answered. “All the extra years will be pushed on her over the next few minutes.”

Greth’s eyes widened and he glanced up at Raeln, who motioned with his fingers that she was twenty-seven.

“My father was well on his way to dying of old age at thirty-two,” the wolf snarled, then winced as Ishande went into another rough seizure. Wrapping his arms around her, Greth held her as still as he could. “I’d rather be thrown into chains than be someone’s pet like this. You people are disgusting.”

The minutes passed slowly, with the occasional shout from behind them when an archer would get attacked at a window by the undead outside. In between, the only sound other than the hushed voices of the villagers was Ishande’s thrashing. Eventually, even that subsided and she lay more easily, though she drifted in and out of consciousness.

“How long?” Greth asked softly when Ishande’s eyes closed again. “How long will she suffer like this? Ten minutes? Twenty, maybe? This has to be killing her.”

Ilarra touched Ishande’s forehead again, feeling the same heat as before. “Some very few live through it…though they often go mad or lose the will to live. Usually, they have fits like that for a few hours, and then their hearts give out. The strongest, like her, can last a day or two before the fits end. The longest I’ve heard of is four days.”

“This is common?” Greth asked, checking Ishande’s mouth to be sure she had not swallowed or bitten through her tongue.

“Not overly. Most bonded die nearly at the same time.”

Greth looked around at the crowd of elves that were staring at Ishande, then lifted his head to Raeln. “You’re going to let her lay here and die, aren’t you?” he asked angrily, then growled when Raeln lowered his head in shame. “You don’t even know how you would want to die, do you, mutt? Our kind die as alone as we can manage. That’s the way we’re built.”

Raeln looked away, trying to look at anyone but Ishande and Greth.

“My people would never have allowed any of this,” whispered Greth near Ishande’s ear. “You have my word on that.”

Opening her eyes slowly, Ishande smiled at Greth. Then, noticing the crowd around them, she began to look uncomfortable and tried to push herself back against the wall but could not manage to move herself.

Helping Ishande sit up, Greth got close to her, so Ilarra doubted anyone farther than her could hear. “Do you want to die a warrior or as a dead elf’s pet?”