When they could see the steps, Burchard stumbled to a halt, taking in the scene before him. The pages were organized in rows. They had an assortment of leather armor pieces, and a few of the larger kids found some chain mail that mostly fit. About half had long knives, and the other half had bows with full quivers.
Burchard stepped up to the side of Sir Foxbright. “Do we have any fire arrows?” he asked quietly.
“Yes, the pages that have the green quivers have only fire arrows. I also had some extra quivers placed along the upper wall so that if anyone runs out, they will have more,” Sir Foxbright said without taking his eyes from the pages. “I’m going to have the archers primarily on the wall. I will command from up there. Those who are good with a sword…well, I couldn’t find small enough swords, so the long knives will have to do.”
“It’s better than being unarmed,” Ruschmann replied.
“Yes, it is better than being unarmed.” Sir Foxbright said.
Just then, the castle doors opened, and the servants and castle staff filed out. They were a motley crew. Cook was holding her butcher knife and gave Burchard a small smile. Gladys had plate armor, a bow with a full quiver of arrows over her shoulder, and a long knife tucked into a belt.
Burchard gulped. Plate armor on a girl? How did I not know she had armor? Or could shoot? I am a terrible friend if I don’t even know those things.
Gladys winked at him and stepped aside so more could come out of the castle.
“Thank you,” Sir Foxbright said, meeting the eyes of each and every person there. Burchard watched as the knight’s gaze paused for the barest moment on each person and that person grew taller, stopped shaking, and seemed less afraid. He gives them confidence by acknowledging they are here.
“We don’t know yet what we face, but we will face it together. For only by working together can we be successful in battle. No matter what comes through those gates, you are not alone,” Sir Foxbright said in a firm but certain voice. Raising his sword in the air, he shouted, “For Alderth Castle!”
“For Alderth Castle!” the pages, servants, and squires shouted in response.
“For Etria!” Sir Foxbright shouted.
“For Etria!” everyone chorused. Even Fang joined in and gave one short howl.
The gate blasted open, and a huge creature with red eyes slowly materialized from within a billowing black cloud.
Burchard almost dropped his shield in shock. He had no idea what it was other than evil and definitely not Ossa. The creature had the head of a man with curly black hair, but at the base of its neck it changed and was no longer human. It looked like a beast. It had four legs with huge paws. Each step forward, he caught a glimpse of razor-sharp metallic claws. The tail started off with the tawny fur of its body before changing into hard black scales, ending in a wicked spike. Its tail curved up behind it and almost over the top of its back.
Burchard felt Ruschmann’s hand brush his, a reminder that it didn’t matter what they were facing because they had to come up with a plan to defeat it. Taking a deep breath, Burchard settled his shield on his left arm and drew his sword with his right. He could hear Sir Foxbright softly giving orders to the pages behind him.
“Charge it on three,” whispered Ruschmann. Burchard nodded in confirmation.
“One…two…three!” Together both squires sprinted toward the creature.
“Stop!” came a familiar voice of a boy behind them.
Burchard wouldn’t stop. He kept running.
“It’s a manticore!” the voice shouted, filled with terror.
Manticore? wondered Burchard. I have no idea what that is. One more stride, and they would be within striking distance of the manticore. Tightening his core muscles in preparation, Burchard was not expecting the manticore to leap over them and into the group of pages.
Panting, Burchard glanced at Ruschmann, wondering if they should turn around or not. “Is it only one?” he asked uncertainly.
Ruschmann gazed around the area in front of them. The darkness seemed to be lifting some, and there was no evidence that the manticore had companions. “We should go a little farther out to check.”
“What about the pages?” Burchard said quietly.
“Sir Foxbright can handle them. The last thing we need is more of the…manticores…to come charging at us unexpectedly,” Ruschmann replied.
Burchard nodded in agreement. Cautiously, the two squires crossed the final section of the bridge. No people, animals, or creatures came leaping out at them. As they stepped off the bridge, they were engulfed in darkness. Fang snarled, but it sounded muffled. The two squires and wolf continued their slow, cautious advance even though they couldn’t see anything.
Just because I can’t see doesn’t mean my other senses are useless, he chided himself. When he took his next step, he put his foot down slowly. It felt like the road, just as he remembered it with hard-packed dirt. He inhaled deeply and then started choking.
Ruschmann pounded him on the back. “You OK?”
Careful to not repeat the same mistake, Burchard inhaled in small breaths. When he felt like he could breathe normally, he responded, “Yes, thanks.”
Suddenly, the black began to shift, lightening. Burchard thought he saw shapes but couldn’t be sure as it seemed like unnatural mist or fog around them.
A sharp barking laugh came toward them. Burchard adjusted his grip on his sword and raised it. Suddenly, the mist disappeared completely, and the midmorning sunlight washed over them. Burchard gasped in shock, his sword dipping, as he gazed upon what the sunlight revealed. Row after row of people. They were moving slowly, with strange, jerky motions. He was trying to figure out why they were moving so strangely when two of the people noticed them. They emitted groans and grunts but no words before running straight at them, arms clawing at the air as though they would rip the two squires apart.
“What are those?” hissed Ruschmann.
“No clue,” replied Burchard, equally puzzled. Then they had no more time to talk because the two people reached them. Each squire attacked one of the people with short, precise strikes to the unprotected bodies. An arm launched through the air and landed somewhere behind them. Something about them was off. They had no weapons and were just trying to attack with their arms and fingernails, which were sharpened as though they were claws.
When the first two collapsed, more filled the gap they left. Burchard found himself easily working his way through the people as they kept coming.
“They’re not bleeding!” Burchard exclaimed, a shiver of fear running through him. What does that mean? Doesn’t everyone bleed?
“I don’t think they’re alive,” Ruschmann said, voice shaking.
Burchard paused his attack, and the person he was attacking succeeded in clawing at his hand, leaving bloody scratches. Growling low in his throat, Burchard swept his sword across the person’s neck. The head went sailing through the air, and the body collapsed in a twitching heap. He gave it a kick with his foot, and it turned into a pile of dust. “I think you’re right. They’re not alive.”
Burchard could hear Fang’s growls and snarls as she took out her share of these strange dead people. He knew the three of them would not be enough. The surging mass of dead stretched far down the road. Some were even starting to come out of the forest too.
“We need to get back into the castle.”
