The dead charged out of the darkness in an unending tide of desiccated corpses. Their ruined flesh and glowing eyes in hollow sockets flickered in the torch and magelight. Zombies ran, crawled, or shuffled in a wave of discolored skin, but they weren’t alone.
More undead had appeared: skeletons that sprang at the nearest adventurers with inhuman grace and Ghouls—the advanced form of a zombie, which moved and fought with supernatural speed and strength. And far worse, in between the lesser varieties of the dead, larger shapes and pale figures could be spotted.
“Not just one! Four of them!”
“We’re surrounded! Retreat!”
“Hold your ground!”
Calruz’s massive voice rose above the others. He cleaved a running zombie in two as he shouted at the adventurers.
“Hold, damn you! Fall back in order! Warriors, hold, and mages retreat to the chamber!”
It was impossible to tell if anyone had heard. The undead were coming from all sides, not just the two passageways but from behind the adventurers as well.
Yvlon and Ceria stood side by side, eyes darting left and right. The undead were everywhere. They were already attacking the adventurers around Ceria and Yvlon, and only their position in the middle of the group had given them a chance to react.
Ceria raised her wand, but there were too many bodies in the way from where she was. Yvlon was in the same situation. The blonde adventurer looked behind her. The adventurers were trying to move back, but a group of the dead had appeared behind them, holding them in place.
“Where are they coming from?”
“There! Secret passages!”
Parts of the stone wall had opened up to let the undead come pouring out. They were only small alcoves, barely large enough for a small group to stand comfortably. But the dead had been packed inside, waiting until someone stepped in their trap.
And now the trap was sprung, and death was all around.
The warriors in front of Ceria were grappling with the undead, but they were hemmed in and had trouble lifting their weapons. Yvlon stepped backwards and slashed at a skeleton that was stabbing a mage. The woman collapsed, bleeding, but disappeared under the press of legs before Ceria could grab her.
Desperately, Ceria shifted to line up a spell, but she was trapped. They were too close together. She looked at the back of a warrior in chainmail and raised her wand. She could help him with a spell—
A huge, clawed hand seized the warrior around the waist and dragged him screaming up into the air. Ceria froze as the undead monster who had seized the armored man hurled him into the press of the dead where he was instantly swarmed and torn apart.
The other adventurers around Ceria fell back rather than get into range of the thing’s claws. She tried to retreat, but now the press worked against her. She was suddenly at the front, and a monster was in front of her. It was no zombie. She knew she was staring at a Crypt Lord, one of the thinking undead.
A Crypt Lord was a dead creature animated by powerful magic that had grown even more terrible over the years since its reanimation. Whatever shape they originally had, it had been twisted by rot and decay. They stood taller than every adventurer save for Calruz, their hunched backs and huge, bloated faces grinning with more sharp teeth than a Human could have.
They weren’t teeth, but bones. Yellowed bones that had been shifted and broken to create the illusion of a mouth in their bloated hollows of skin. They had no real organs or need to imitate the living’s biology. This was just—mockery. A paradoxical grin of rotten flesh and tangled bones.
The Crypt Lords ate the dead to recover their bodies. That was why their powerful arms and legs had a terrible patchwork appearance as the flesh and bone had fused to become whole.
The Crypt Lord grinned at Ceria, and black liquid ran from between its teeth. They had blood, of a kind. Poisonous black blood that carried disease and death.
It spat, and Ceria dove at once. The black poison struck her, but most of it landed on her robes, and the magic shrugged the liquid off. She rolled to a safe patch and saw two glowing blue eyes peering at her from above.
For a second, Ceria relaxed. It was just Toren. But—this skeleton wasn’t the same. It was covered with red blood and held a jagged, broken sword in its hands. And Toren was miles away and above ground.
The bloody skeleton raised the blade and brought it down on Ceria as she tried to roll again. It struck her in the back.
Ceria shouted in agony, but again, her enchanted robes caught the blade and took most of the blow. She still felt like something was trying to crush her spine, but she was alive. Not for long, though. The skeleton raised its sword again.
Ceria pointed her wand up. A shard of ice blasted the skeleton’s head off, and the rest of the body crumpled to the floor.
Shaking, she leapt to her feet. She was exposed. The Crypt Lord spat again, but this time at another adventurer. It was too dangerous. She raised her wand and aimed.
The monster had an amalgamation of eyes it had stolen from corpses. They clustered together in huge, fleshy sockets, around fifteen individual eyeballs in each ‘eye’. They spun towards her, and she spoke.
The thick shard of ice buried itself in the Crypt Lord’s head, and a gout of black blood spurted outwards with the ruined eyeballs. The Crypt Lord roared soundlessly and ran towards Ceria.
Ceria didn’t know where the voice came from, but she instantly crouched. She felt her hair catch on something, and several strands were yanked out as Cervial loosed a crossbow bolt straight into the Crypt Lord’s other eye.
This time, it did scream out loud, a wailing cry that came from multiple voices within it. Ceria staggered back as it began to flail around, striking the other undead around it as it searched for something to kill.
Ceria turned, but suddenly, five zombies appeared out of the melee and ran at her and the archer-Captain. He cursed and pulled out a shortsword rather than reload. Ceria took one down with another [Ice Spike] before two of them lunged at her.
Ceria knew over fifty spells she could use, but her wand had contained the [Ice Spike] spell and thus she could cast it faster than anything else. And she had trained with the spell until she had a [Marksman]’s precision. She hammered a shard of ice into the chest of one zombie, making it sit down hard, and then fled from the other one’s hands.
The undead Drake lurched after her, but a woman with a mace bashed it to the ground. She was one of Yvlon’s Silver Spears, although her silvery armor was covered in gore.
Ceria didn’t bother to even shout thanks. In the next moment, both she and the warrior were fighting again. She fired over the head of an archer and caught a Ghoul as it leapt down on the man. He looked up, backed away, and then shot the creature three times in the face.
More movement. Ceria spun and saw a downed figure she recognized.
A Ghoul was crouching on top of Gerial, slashing at him with its claws. Ceria didn’t hesitate. She ran forwards, drawing her belt dagger from its sheath. She planted it in the back of the Ghouls’ head, ramming it through the softened skull and into the exposed brain.
To her horror, the Ghoul didn’t die from her attack. It turned its head; glowing crimson eyes flashed with hatred at her. It raised a claw, and Gerial kicked up. The Ghoul tumbled off him, and he sat up and ran his sword through its shoulder.
Ceria raised her wand and blasted the creature’s face apart. It went down for good, and she helped Gerial to his feet. His face was a bloody mask, but he grabbed a potion from his belt and emptied it over his injuries. They began healing even as Ceria watched.
He gasped and shuddered as Ceria covered them with her wand.
“Dead gods, this is a mess. Where are the others?”
“I don’t know.”
Most of the torches had been dropped on the ground, and only a few [Light] spells were illuminating the darkness. It made everything twice as hard as adventurers mistook each other for enemies.
“Gerial. We can’t regroup like this. I need to cast [Illumination], but I’ll need defending.”
Ceria raised her wand and began focusing on the spell. It was so difficult as adventurers fought and monsters screamed around her, but she had to. Her mind was focused on a single point, and then that single point became many. She held the image of what she wanted in her head and willed it to be certainty.
“Form on me! Horns of Hammerad, to me!”
Gerial shouted as he struck and kicked undead around them, trying to keep them from reaching Ceria. The magic in her surged. She was in a half-place, half in this world, watching, fearing, trying desperately to cast a little faster to save her friends, half in the world of magic, riding the eddies and currents and seeking the truth.
Motion. She saw a Drake—the only one that wasn’t dead in this place—running away. A break in the dead coming from behind had created an opening, and he ran through it, fleeing the battle.
Part of her wanted to shout, but the magic was nearly ready. Olesm was running in the other direction faster than Ceria thought he could move. Eight other adventurers fled with him, all of them mages to judge by their clothing.
A group of skeletons was in hot pursuit. They disappeared into the darkness, and Ceria prayed she wouldn’t be too late. The magic reached a tipping point, and she opened her mouth.
Light suddenly filled the long corridor. Adventurers cried out, shielding their faces as orbs of light flew up from the ground, bright, shining, white beacons spaced ten feet apart. They turned the darkness of the crypt into day.
For a second, the undead faltered with the living. They hesitated, perhaps as the Crypt Lords sensed their advantage was gone. The adventurers shook the temporary blindness from their eyes. Now they could see the enemy. They roared and attacked.
Gerial crashed into two skeletons, scattering their bones. Ceria raised her wand and used another spell.
A small wave of water struck Gerial behind the knees. He staggered, but his heavy armor kept him upright. The skeletons weren’t so lucky. They fell to the ground and immediately began pushing themselves upright.
That wasn’t her main goal, though. Ceria aimed her wand at the spreading pool of water, and it froze. Gerial cursed as the water turned to ice; he was suddenly surrounded by a huge area of iced ground. Adventurers jumped out of the way rather than fight on the unstable footing, but the dead were less intelligent. They slipped and fell as they came after them, easy targets.
More zombies rushed at Ceria, and she ran back. The adventurers had formed a rough circle, and she found another mage throwing bolts of fire off of his staff. He whirled and smiled at her.
“You take that side, I’ll take this.”
They stood back-to-back, blasting corpses back with their magic. Ceria spotted Calruz and several other warriors fighting the Crypt Lords, keeping the four massive creatures at bay while the lesser undead tried to break through the ranks of adventurers.
“We need more space!”
Sostrom yelled it in Ceria’s ears. She nodded.
“There! Get to Menes!”
The two mages ran back, letting other warriors close the gap. The mage-Captain was hurling lightning with his staff at a Crypt Lord. Ceria grabbed him by the shoulder, and he spun.
“We need to cut them off! Can you cast a spell?”
Menes shouted back.
“I can! But I need an opening! And the dead are behind us as well!”
Sostrom pointed as Ceria and Menes jerked around to look at him.
Another hole had opened up behind the embattled adventurers. Flashes of light and spells blasted apart zombies and skeletons. More adventurers, fighting in the burial room they’d passed. Ceria grabbed Menes’ arm and screamed in his ear.
“There’s our opening! If you can buy us time—”
“Give me a minute. Can you clear the area first?”
He covered both mages as they began to concentrate again. Ceria raised her wand and felt the heat building in it. She aimed and shouted at the adventurers in front of her.
“I’m going to cast a big one. Everyone get back!”
They looked around, saw the fiery glow coming from her wand, and scattered to the left and right. Ceria saw Gerial ram into Calruz to get the Minotaur to move aside. She aimed at one of the Crypt Lords as it swiped at the retreating adventurers.
A glowing orange orb of fire three feet in diameter burst from her wand. It shot down the corridor and struck the Crypt Lord in the chest.
Ceria felt the blast kick her backwards and heard only ringing. Sostrom caught her, and for a few seconds, all was smoke and confusion. Then Ceria saw the Crypt Lord howling, caught ablaze, and the dead around it scattered, literally in fiery pieces or thrown to the ground.
She shouted at the mage next to her.
His face was covered in sweat. Menes raised his staff and pointed at the open space as the undead tried to gather for another charge.
“[Wall of Flames].”
Fire burst from his staff and shot past the adventurers, some of whom were unlucky enough to be scorched by the magical flames. A curtain of fire blocked off the corridor, each flame reaching nearly to the ceiling. The adventurers in front fell back as the undead entered the flames and retreated, burning and screaming.
“Now—everyone, to the rear!”
Yvlon’s voice rose, and the adventurers turned. Some of the undead had been caught past the fire. They were hacked to pieces, and the group ran back to the large room. Calruz’s voice followed hers.
“The spell is about to run out! Mages, buy us some time.”
Menes nodded. He raised his staff, and two more mages joined him. They pointed at the single entrance to the room, and walls of light and magical runes appeared on the floor, blocking entry.
“[Ward of Safety].”
“[Sanctuary of Light].”
None of them were particularly high-level spells, all being Tier 1 and Tier 2, but together they did what an individual spell would not.
Ceria saw the wall of flames spell Menes had cast die out, and then the undead ran at the barrier. They crashed against the spells, and though they struck and hit the magical walls, they were unable to break through.
The adventurers watched, tense, until the undead began to pull back. The four Crypt Lords stared silently at the magic and then began walking back into the darkness. The undead followed silently. In a matter of minutes, they were gone.
The battle was over. And just as if another spell had been cast, suddenly Ceria could hear the other noises around her. Men and women crying out in pain, the voices, the scraping of metal and splashing as people poured potions over wounds or took off armor to get at injuries—all the noises that had been covered by the pounding of her heart.
“Screw me with a Wyvern’s tooth, what the hell was that?”
Gregor was shouting in the center of the milling adventurers. He was holding a piece of cloth to stop the bleeding as a healing potion regenerated a huge bite that had been taken out of one of his legs. He pointed to the corridor filled with corpses.
“They tore us apart out there! That was an ambush! A damn ambush from the undead! Has anyone heard of such a thing?”
“How many people are injured? Who’s missing?”
Yvlon strode around the room, listening as adventurers called out. Ceria looked around for her group and ran to the Horns of Hammerad. Miraculously, they were all there. Marian, Gerial, Calruz, Sostrom—
“Hunt? Where’s Hunt?”
Ceria looked around in sudden panic.
“Here. He’s here, Ceria.”
One of the other warriors, Barr, pointed to the ground. Ceria saw Hunt was lying with his head propped up against a pack, his face twisted into a grimace, hands frozen in a clawed position.
“A Wight got him from behind. It raked him with those damn paralyzing claws, and he froze up. He’s okay—but the magic isn’t going away for a while.”
Ceria sighed in relief. It wasn’t good—Hunt was out of commission—but he wasn’t dead. She looked at the other adventurers. They were all battered, including herself. Even with healing potions, they all had some injuries. Except for Calruz. The Minotaur looked like he’d barely taken a scratch in the fight, and only the gore painting every inch of his battleaxe testified to his involvement.
“Ceria. It is good you are well. The lighting spell was well-timed, as was the fireball.”
He nodded at her as he scanned the room. She opened her mouth for a scathing retort and then closed it.
“Yeah. I’m glad everyone’s here. How many people didn’t make it?”
The answer was six, which was nothing short of a miracle. But it was really only six dead and many more wounded. Most of the injuries the adventurers had taken could be cured with healing potions, but several had lost fingers or limbs, and some had broken bones in ways that couldn’t be healed with a mere potion.
The hardest-hit group had been Cervial’s Flawless Flights. They’d lost two in the ambush, and two more in the scouting group. He was weeping as he reloaded his crossbow with another bolt.
“I fired it right at the damn monster, but it just took Elise and ate her. Damn it. Damn them.”
“That was a disaster.”
Menes agreed as he rested on a stone slab. His face was grey, a sign he’d used too much magic. Ceria felt the same way, although the mana potion she’d taken was helping.
“How did they sneak up on us like that? We let our guards down, thinking the undead couldn’t.”
“They were being led by Crypt Lords, that’s how. Those bastards can command the other dead.”
“Crypt Lords. I’ve never fought their kind. Those giant things at the back—they can think?”
Menes and Ceria nodded.
“How dangerous are they?”
“A Crypt Lord is a threat capable of wiping out a Silver-rank team if they’re not careful. Recommended level to combat them is…around 22. Possibly 26 if you factor in their special abilities. They’re mostly dangerous because they can command the dead around them to do things like lie in wait or use pincer attacks.”
“Gods. No wonder Charlez and his team didn’t make it out. We very nearly didn’t either.”
“Good job on that [Illumination] spell, Ceria. Without it, we would have been cooked.”
Ceria bowed her head as Yvlon nodded at her. Cervial nodded dully, and Gregor grunted.
“Yes, and the [Mages] certainly saved us. But there’s a problem. Where’s that damned lizard?”
Gregor scowled across the room at Olesm. The Drake flinched as he stormed towards him.
“You! I saw you running away! I should run you through myself, you coward!”
Olesm raised his hands as Gregor’s fists tightened.
“Please, allow me to explain—”
“Hold it, Gregor!”
Another mage sitting with his back to a wall raised his hand wearily as Gregor’s face reddened. He pointed at Olesm.
“That Drake didn’t run. He saved us. And you as well. When the undead were running at us, he got a group of us mages and used a Skill to let us escape the ambush. That let us get back here and open a path for the rest of you.”
Gregor stared incredulously at Olesm. The Drake grinned nervously at him.
“[Rapid Retreat]. It’s, ah, a [Tactician] skill, although many [Thieves] and similar classes know it too. I heard Calruz shouting to get back over here, and I thought the rest of you would be right behind me.”
The adventurers murmured in appreciation. Gregor hesitated and then nodded slowly.
“Well. Good job. My apologies. Thank you for doing that. If you hadn’t—”
“It was a terrible ambush. My [Dangersense] only went off at the last moment. If we’d paid more attention to the scouts—”
“They were our best. Nothing should have been able to take out all of them without making a sound. Not even a horde of the undead. All of them had escape skills. So how—”
Yvlon rested a hand on Cervial’s shoulder comfortingly. She looked around at the other adventurers.
“We can worry about that after the threat is gone. Those spells won’t last forever. And we need a fast decision. Do we press on, now we know how many undead are out there, including Crypt Lords? Or do we retreat?”
Even Cervial raised his head at that word. He shook his head, dark fury in his eyes.
“No. We don’t do that. That was an ambush, not a fair fight. We’re going to go after those monsters and shoot them to bits.”
“Any idea on how?”
That came from Gerial. He stood at the barrier and stared out into the darkness. Ceria’s [Illumination] spell had cast light on the entire floor, but only as far as she’d walked. The branching corridor was still dark, and not a single undead could be seen from where he stood.
“They’ve already hidden themselves again. If we keep going, we’ll just run into another ambush. Granted, we know it’s coming, but I’d rather not do that again.”
Menes nodded as he got to his feet slowly.
“We could set traps and fortify this location. If we need to retreat—”
“An extended battle like that is risky. We’d be looking over our shoulders the entire time, and we’d never know we got them all.”
Yvlon sighed as she wiped her sword clean with a cloth.
“Those Crypt Lords are deadly. We need to take them out first. Do that and the rest of the undead lose a lot of their threat.”
“Do we have any way of detecting them? A spell?”
“We could search for trapped rooms, but we’ll burn through magic fast that way. It’s risky.”
Cervial bared his teeth.
“There’s no way in hell I’m retreating, not without a huge pile of gold to put on my people’s tombstones.”
“I’m right with you, but how—?”
“I have a plan.”
Every adventurer turned, and the arguing stopped as Calruz spoke. Ceria looked up from her second mana potion and had to stop herself from raising her eyebrows. Calruz? His plans were about as complex as a Goblin’s, and everyone knew it. Including him. He left all of the finesse to Gerial and Ceria.
But the Minotaur had taken the stage, and it was her job to back him up. Or kick him in the tail if he said something really stupid.
“We should face them all at once.”
Ceria’s foot twitched, but Gregor was quicker.
“Are you mad, Calruz? Why in the hells do you want to do that? They nearly tore us apart in that ambush, and you want to take on the rest all at once?”
The Minotaur snorted at him.
“You speak of seeking them out in their homes, but that is foolish. We are adventurers. We are stronger than they are. If we remove the element of surprise and cowardly attacks from behind, we stand a better chance of wiping them out at once than fighting with our backs to the walls every five minutes.”
The other Captains and vice-Captains fell silent at that. Yvlon raised her eyebrows and looked at Menes, who nodded.
“Calruz is right. In a straight battle without an ambush, we’d hold the advantage. If we could turn it into that, I’d place all my bets on our side winning handily. But how do you propose we do that, Calruz? Those monsters aren’t exactly smart, but they’re clever enough not to commit to an all-out attack. You saw how they retreated once we put the barriers up.”
“I will lure them out. If one of you possesses a [Loudness] spell or something similar, I will provoke them into attacking.”
“I know that spell. But are the rest of you agreed…?”
Menes glanced around. Yvlon hesitated before nodding, but Gregor and Cervial were already picking up their weapons.
Calruz glanced around.
“You. [Tactician]. Do you have any skills that would turn the tide of battle?”
“Yes. A…a few. One good one. Should I use it now…?”
“No. Wait. We will recover a while longer. And then we will go and destroy those who would take our own.”
Calruz’s eyes flashed. He lifted his battleaxe, and the adventurers began to stand. It swept over them, a moment of passion that turned to anger. They had been attacked. Hurt. Some of their friends had died. It was time to fight again.
Ceria felt the same mood swing through her. She eyed her wand and estimated that she could cast quite a number of spells before she ran out of mana. Yes, the undead had struck first and done damage. But they hadn’t killed the adventurers.
Now it was their turn to strike back.
Calruz strode down the corridor and waited as the adventurers formed up around him. He hadn’t gone too far from their room, which was now their camp for the wounded and where they’d fittingly placed their dead. He waited with his hands on his axe as Menes cast the spell to amplify his voice.
“Done. I’ll cast a [Muffle] spell so we don’t get the worst of whatever you’re about to do.”
Calruz nodded. He stared into the darkness. All of the undead had vanished into the darkness, leaving only the truly dead behind. Yvlon stood next to Calruz, staring up at him curiously.
“Do you have [Taunt] as a Skill? I don’t know if that would even work on the dead…”
That single word echoed loudly in the darkness. Calruz’s already loud, rumbling voice had been amplified several times over so that Yvlon winced. He motioned her back silently and whispered, which was still louder than shouting with the spell in effect.
“I do not need a Skill. Be ready. When they attack, we will crush them.”
Yvlon nodded and stepped back into line. This time, all of the best warriors and the other four adventuring Captains were in front, with all the mages and archers towards the back. Ceria stood next to Sostrom, heart beating rapidly. Assuming Calruz’s undisclosed plan worked, they would be in a perfect position to meet the undead. If he knew what he was doing.
When the [Muffle] spell had been cast, Calruz narrowed his eyes. He raised his battleaxe and gripped it tightly. Then he raised his voice and shouted.
No. Not just shouted. His first word made Ceria’s ears ring, and she went temporarily deaf as his voice rumbled through the entire building.
“Pathetic spirits of the dead! I am Calruz, leader of the Horns of Hammerad! By the House of Minos, I challenge you. If there is any honor left yet in your defiled corpses—face me and meet your end!”
Outside the ruins, the guardsmen and adventurers standing guard in front of the building looked around. They thought they’d heard something, and the shifting of dirt within made them reach for their weapons. But no attack came. Above, that was.
Even with both her hands covering her ears and the [Muffle] spell, Ceria could still only hear ringing after Calruz had finished. His voice had echoed in her bones, and she felt almost nauseous as well.
She tried to say something and realized she still wasn’t hearing. She shouted and heard a bit of sound.
Sostrom looked at her. Ceria pointed. He looked and then saw it.
Movement. In the shadows, in the darkness of the long corridor at the edges of where Ceria’s [Illumination] spell had been cast, things moved. A huge shape appeared, and grinning teeth and long claws made of yellowed bones moved into view.
One Crypt Lord, and then two, three…four of them appeared out of the darkness, followed by a horde of the dead. They opened their mouths and howled at Calruz as the Minotaur took his place in the line of adventurers.
“Strike me blind, Calruz!”
Gerial had to shout above the ringing of his ears. He grinned wildly at the Minotaur as Calruz bared his teeth at him.
“How’d you know that would work?”
“The dead do not like sound any more than you do. It is an intrusion. I have challenged their honor. And so—we begin!”
Menes really should have taken the [Loudness] spell off of Calruz. He did, but only after the Minotaur’s large voice had set everyone’s ears ringing a second time. The Minotaur pointed.
The undead were indeed massing to charge. The adventurers waited, hearts beating, ears filled with echoes of thunder.
Olesm cleared his throat. Ceria thought he did, at any rate. She was still having trouble hearing, but the Drake spoke loudly.
“It looks like it’s my turn.”
“I said—never mind. Here!”
The Drake pointed as the undead began to run down the long corridor. He opened his mouth, and Ceria heard the words clearly.
All of the adventures gasped and looked around. As Olesm had spoken, the weapons and armor they carried felt like they had grown lighter. Even the mages felt a second wind, and their magic came to them more strongly than before.
Ceria gaped at Olesm as he grinned at her.
“What was that? A Skill?”
“I can only do that once a day at my level. But yes—it can change a battle. The rest of my skills are mostly defensive or information-oriented, so this is all I can do.”
The undead were running now, closing the long distance at alarming speed. Olesm raised his voice again as he pointed to one of the Crypt Lords. It was the one Ceria had hit with the fireball, and though it had eaten some eyes, it was still half-blind as well.
“That one is more injured than the rest. Bring it down first.”
The [Mages] around him nodded as they readied their spells. Ceria watched the undead approach. Cervial loosed crossbow bolt after crossbow bolt with the other three adventurers in his group, felling zombies and skeletons, but the Crypt Lords and the rest of the horde ran on.
Yvlon raised her voice as the undead drew closer. They were around thirty meters away and closing ever faster. She unsheathed her sword and pointed.
The magic casters needed no further invitation. Ceria and Sostrom pointed their wands and loosed their spells along with the other casters, filling the hallway with magic as the warriors kept their heads down.
The first row of undead met a wave of magic and simply…vanished. Lightning crackled through gouts of flame, and spiraling bolts of energy blew limbs apart. Not all the magic had gone into the attack though; pools of slippery liquid appeared on the ground, slowing the undead, and a second wall of flames turned a group of zombies into screaming torches.
Half of the mages loosed another spell before the undead were too close. Calruz stood upright, and Gregor shouted.
“Now, warriors, follow me! Charge!”
The armed rose to their feet and roared, drowning out the howling of the undead as they ran straight at the undead. Ceria saw the first zombie raise its hand to strike Gerial before Calruz’s massive fist punched straight through the zombie’s hand.
The adventurers and undead collided in a crash of sound that nearly rendered Ceria deaf again. But she was already running with the other mages, firing shards of ice at one of the Crypt Lords as she did.
All was motion. Gerial spun and cleaved the head off of one zombie effortlessly. He felt like his body was on fire. He felt like his heart was on fire. He was fighting at his best thanks to Olesm’s Skill. And not just him. Around him, the Captains were cutting through the undead now that they didn’t have to worry about hitting allies in front of them.
Gregor’s axe scythed through the stomachs of three zombies and a Ghoul, dropping them to the ground where the big man crushed their heads with an armored boot. He turned and barely dodged a Crypt Lord’s massive hand, but Cervial raised his crossbow and loosed a bolt right into the monster’s face.
The flesh around the bolt tore, and the big monster lurched back. Gregor and two other warriors attacked it from below as it tried to recover, and Gerial caught a skeleton that was trying to attack them from behind. He bashed it repeatedly with the pommel of his sword and watched it collapse as he broke a hole in its skull.
Yvlon’s sword tip exited the neck of one zombie as she struck a skeleton in the head with her shield. The blow shattered the undead’s skull, and it collapsed, the crimson light fading from its eyes.
She whirled, and her shield came up to block a Ghoul’s slash. She pushed the monster away, and it staggered. Gerial saw Yvlon pull her sword out of the dead man’s stomach, and the Ghoul folded up. He hadn’t even seen her strike.
Gerial turned and found another Crypt Lord about to spit at him and Yvlon. He tackled her to the floor, and the black rain covered another adventurer, who fell to the ground, screaming.
Someone yanked Gerial to his feet. He looked up and saw Sostrom as the mage struck the Crypt Lord in the head with several fiery bolts of magic. It roared and seized him in one huge fist.
The mage screamed in agony as the Crypt Lord squeezed. Gerial stabbed it in the stomach desperately, but it was too big and wouldn’t let his friend go.
He felt something shove him aside and then Calruz was there. The Minotaur swung his battleaxe, and Sostrom fell to the ground, the severed hand still holding him.
The Crypt Lord howled and grabbed at Calruz, but the Minotaur dropped his axe and gripped the undead’s head with both of his hands. He roared in fury as he ripped the Crypt Lord’s head off. The black blood spurted from the stump and covered the Minotaurs’ fur as he hurled the head and bit of spine away.
“Gerial! Back me up!”
Gerial nodded and fended off a Ghoul while Calruz reclaimed his axe. The Minotaur’s skin was fizzing where the black blood had landed, and he unceremoniously dumped two potions over his fur and then downed an antidote.
Several feet away, Ceria was in trouble. She’d been separated by Sostrom when the monster grabbed him, and a Ghoul was trying to catch her as she dodged backwards.
Gerial sliced a huge hole in the Ghoul’s side, giving Ceria an opening. She hit the Ghoul with three ice spikes, sending it spinning away.
A zombie struck Gerial from behind, hitting him in the back and knocking him to the floor. It fell on Gerial, biting and tearing as he shouted for help.
Ceria didn’t hesitate. She pointed her wand at the zombie’s back.
Instantly, the zombie burst into flames. It stopped clawing at Gerial and started writhing, trying to put out the flames. Gerial shoved the corpse off him and got to his feet. The zombie tried to crawl after him, but Calruz ran forward and bashed its skull in with a single kick.
“How many Crypt Lords are down?”
Gregor had just cleaved the head off of the Crypt Lord he’d been fighting. The last monstrous undead hesitated as its minions surrounded it.
“I will take care of it if you get me close.”
Ceria nodded, and she and Sostrom ran towards Menes. The mage turned, and then all three began blasting at the undead, sending charred and broken bodies spinning to the ground.
Calruz looked at Gerial as the other man panted for air.
They charged into the ranks of the undead. Gerial body-rushed a skeleton and planted his sword in a zombie’s chest as Calruz swung his axe and sent body parts flying. The Crypt Lord raised its head and stared at the Minotaur, possibly seeing a threat in the only creature larger than it was.
It raised its clawed hands at the same time Calruz raised his blade. Gerial knew what he was going to do and ran backwards as Calruz roared.
The Minotaur brought down his axe, cutting through the Crypt Lord’s twisted arms as it tried to block. He cleaved downwards, not stopping for bone or sinew as he vertically bisected the front part of the Crypt Lord’s body and struck the ground in an impact that smashed the stone floor.
Even from several feet away, Ceria felt the impact in her bones. The Crypt Lord lay on the ground, bones and skin twisted and torn.
The undead faltered and then began to attack again. But suddenly, they were without their controlling intelligence. Calruz roared, and the adventurers formed up around him. They pressed the undead back, back, until they hit a wall and were ground into paste upon it.
In the silence after the battle, Olesm shakily walked around the few twitching corpses and stared at the Crypt Lord Calruz had killed with his [Hammer Blow] skill. He stared at Calruz as the Minotaur leaned on his battleaxe, panting.
“I—I didn’t hear you say anything.”
Calmly, Calruz raised his axe and shook the bits of gore from it.
“Not every Skill or spell must be shouted.”
The Drake nodded slowly and looked around. The battle was over. He looked at his own sword. He’d hung back and fought with the mages, but he’d still killed several zombies and skeletons. He felt shaky, sick, exhausted as the adrenaline left him. He looked at Ceria as the half-Elf downed another mana potion and wiped at her mouth.
“We’re alive. Now what?”
The half-Elf grinned at Olesm, threw up a bit as the mana potion ran through her system, and grinned even harder. Blood and entrails had painted her face, but she didn’t seem to mind.
“Now? Now we get the treasure.”