Lances and Daggers

12. Daybreak

The undead inched their way through the grass, and the mage watched like an executioner who enjoyed his job—eager to witness the last moment, to hear the final screams, to imagine the pain as the heads rolled. He must've had many morbid wishes, but Reinfried and I promised that none of them would come true.

"Lance, create an opening. I've got your back."

The light of Reinfried's sword, Silverthorne, was getting brighter.

"You can count on me," I said. "Just tell me when to attack."

I watched the undead as they dragged themselves closer. They were evil and menacing in appearance, but I knew that they only wanted to leave this boisterous world and return to the silence of death. It was an unforgivable crime to reanimate bodies in such a way, and it was a human duty to right this wrong.

"Now!" Reinfried gave the signal, and I ran into the crowd.

I slashed through a zombie's chest and kicked another before it could grab my leg. My sword danced in the air. I anticipated the attacks, leaped out of the zombies' reach, and struck with rapid blows. I was digging the tunnel out of this predicament, slowly creating a path toward the mage.

Reinfried, meanwhile, protected my back and waited for the chance to lunge at the puppeteer. With consecutive battle cries, he swung Silverthorne and unleashed its powers. The sword shone like a shooting star. It defeated the undead with its consecrated blade and left piles of ash to be carried away by the wind. Nevertheless, Reinfried seemed to be in pain. It was not his left arm's injury that made him suffer; it was the sight of the faces that he slashed with Silverthorne.

I can't imagine how you're feeling, Reinfried, but you must stay strong.

I kicked aside another undead and finally opened a path to the mage. We leaped forward and passed through the small opening, avoiding the gray arms that reached for our necks. What awaited us, however, was another surprise.

"Duck!" Reinfried said. "To the ground!"

The warning came in time, and I dropped on my stomach. Fireballs flew above my head, hit some of the undead behind me, and reduced them to ashes. I looked up and saw five more fireballs floating around the mage. He was able to use both fire and reanimation magic, and this combination meant trouble.

"Move!" Reinfried said. "We have to split up. Aim for the mage!"

Reinfried disappeared into the chaotic scene. I couldn't see where he went because I had to focus on my own survival. The undead reached for me, and fireballs flew across the sky and exploded near my feet. I avoided the gray hands, jumped over the flames as if in a circus act, and raced on the scorched grass. My goal was near: I could see the mage's black robes fluttering in the wind.

"No! No!" the mage shouted and threw his grimoire at me. "Stay away!"

"It's too late to beg for mercy." With another step, I was right in front of him.

"I warned you." He suddenly grinned.

A trap?

I looked at the ground and realized why he was so cheerful. Lights were shining under his feet. He hadn't been idle while the zombies attacked us; he had drawn a destructive rune on the ground. With a predetermined word, he could activate it and cause an explosion.

"Ekrageite," the mage said. "I can't win, but I'll take you down with me. For Lord Belphegor's glory!"

I had fallen for his trick, and I was now caught up in a kamikaze attack. The rune's ancient characters released a blinding light. A deafening sound rocked my ears, and only darkness followed.