But then the gates opened. Buildings burned with fires of red and blue all around, and scattered soldiers ran back and forth across the blood-stained cobblestones. A terrified cry rang somewhere nearby, cut short by a sickening crack.
With roar, the prisoners and the Churchguards charged into that Holy Hell. And Farris followed.
Chapter 28:
Those Who Fight
It’s been past an hour now since the soldiers ordered us all to sit and wait in the House of the Triad. Some of the Humans have taken to praying, but all I can do is write, and hope my words eventually find you. Those who are in charge are telling us little about what’s going on outside, but I can tell from their demeanour that things are not going well. I’ve heard a few cries and shouts, but the fighting still seems to be kept away from the Shadow of Sin. As much as I hate to admit, I’m tempted to join the Humans in their prayers that the dead stay away for a little longer.
Unfinished letter found in the House of the Triad, Penance, AC404.
***
Volleys of arrows shot through the air, filling the night’s sky with their burning tips. The roared commands of captains and lieutenants rang out all across the Gold Gate, and the archers continued to notch and loose without hesitation. But none of these seemed to slow the approaching horde, charging through the valley.
Fionn flicked his wrist, pulling a ball of fire from the spark his rings produced. He idly moulded the fire between his fingertips, keeping his eyes locked on the coming army.
How can we stop them? He turned back to gauge the number of soldiers stationed behind him. We’re running out of time.
The thundering roar of footsteps shook the entire wall, as hundreds of bodies emerged from the huge dust cloud on the far end of the valley, seemingly undeterred by the burning arrows that rained down upon them.
“Hold the gate!” roared a voice from somewhere behind Fionn. “Hold!”
What does he mean? thought Fionn, pulling the flames between both hands. The host was about three hundred feet away.
“Hold!” roared the voice again. Fionn quickly made note of the width of the valley. Could I fill it with fire? Could I hold them back?
The cries of the dead rose up over the clamour of their charge. Guttural, inhuman voices gurgling unintelligible sounds.
The individual faces of the dead were close enough to pick out. Men bearing crests and sigils of families Fionn didn’t recognise. Faces half-obscured by decaying flesh. Children clad in torn, bloody clothes. Some wielded weapons, fewer wore armour, and none showed any sign of slowing.
Children…. Fionn shook his head in disbelief. Why aren’t we fighting them? Why is nothing being done?
Once the front line of the horde was in stone-throwing distance of the wall, three strange figures leapt forward to meet them. For a frightening second, Fionn feared that some madmen had broken ranks to fight the horde alone, but when the valley lit up with blue flames again, Fionn understood what had happened.
The Reapers. They can move!
As the charging dead reached the blue inferno, their battle cries turned to blood-curdling wails unlike anything Fionn had heard before.
What kind of power is this? Fionn watched as the three figures paced back and forth, ensuring no wight made it through their wall of fire.
Blackened corpses started to pile up before the machinations. But even those that were charred to a crisp still writhed beneath the fire. Other undead soldiers climbed atop the stack of bodies to reach the Reapers, but the blue flames cast each back, and they too joined the others upon the smouldering heap.
They’re holding them back! roared Sir Bearach from inside Fionn’s head. They’re holding the whole damn lot of them back!
From behind the pile, a single body leapt through the fire and collided with a Reaper. The metallic figure lost its balance for a second, then turned its cannon upon the corpse. As if taking advantage of this distraction, four more wights followed, leaping over the burning bodies and knocking against the Reaper.
A second Reaper took notice but continued to keep the rest of the horde at bay. The first swung its other arm in a wide arc, but more and more came pouring over the pile.
“No!” roared Fionn, watching on helplessly as the Reaper fell to the ground. More decaying corpses fell upon it, tearing at its armour. The other Reaper turned to look at its fallen comrade for a split second, but it too was overwhelmed by the coming dead. The rest of the wights climbed over the smoking pile and continued on their march towards the gate.
The last Fionn saw of the fallen Reapers was one of their heads being pulled off. Inside was a Simian soldier, alive and breathing as the undead pulled his bloody body from the wreckage.
No. They weren’t statues. They weren’t machines. They were….
“Now!” roared the same voice from earlier. Beneath Fionn, the mechanisms of the Steamgate frantically churned into action, and the Triad’s soldiers poured out to meet the horde. The two front lines crashed into each other amidst a cacophony of roaring voices and clashing steel.
“Fire!” came another voice from atop the wall, and another salvo of burning arrows rained down upon the tide of undead. More and more of the Triad’s soldiers pushed against the horde, but their line still held. Inch by inch, the dead kept pressing forward, as more and more corpses joined them from further down the valley.
We can’t fight them. There’s just too many. There’s—
Gods take you, lad! cried Sir Bearach. Are you a Firemaster or not? Use your magic!
Fionn glanced down at his flint-rings. After all that had happened, he had let the flames in his hand extinguish. He shook his head and produced another spark, turning it into a flame and cupping it between both hands.
He ran forward to the battlements and sent the flame soaring down into the fray below. He pulled on the power of his soul. Right as the fire landed on the side of the horde, it erupted into a spiralling cyclone of flames, consuming all it touched.
The side of the Triad took this opportunity to push forward again, this time making ground. Some soldiers split from the column and ran through the undead’s ranks, only to be engulfed by their sheer numbers.
Quick! Do it again! roared Sir Bearach. Without question, Fionn reached for another ball of fire. But when it came to throw it amongst the undead, he hesitated.
I can’t tell… I can’t tell which side is ours anymore.
Indeed, the two frontlines below were blurred as one, and soldiers from either side were scattered into the other. But like the coming tide, another wave of undead surged through the valley, quickly overwhelming the living unfortunate enough to be on the wrong side.
“Retreat!” came the booming voice of Commander Plackart from somewhere amongst the chaos. “Retreat to the gate!”
There was some movement below as those capable of turning back did, but many more were still lost amongst the horde. Two Simian soldiers fought with their backs to one another, keeping the undead away in a wide circle around them. A Human tried to turn to make it back to the gate, but a skeletal soldier pursued him, running a spear into his back. A cluster of a dozen or so Humans and Simians had banded together beyond the frontline, keeping their backs against the valley wall as they fought against the undead. But the horde’s numbers only swelled, the Triad’s line no longer held, and the dead crept ever closer to the wall.
