--- Tolwin

"Lowan!"

Moving around the battlefield as fast as he could, Tolwin reached his friend. Surrounded and clearly injured, Lowan was still fighting among his men.

I need to take down the necromancer before this bloodbath gets even worse.

His way was still blocked by three undead, one from Rickhart's initial reserves and two turned mercenaries. There was no time to lose.

"Damn you!" yelled Tolwin. "Begone, fiends!"

He fired out two shots of smiting magic, blowing apart his opponents and putting an end to the only one who still moved with a fierce swing of his holy hammer.

Enough of you minions. Where's your master? Where's Rickhart?

"Tolwin!" the commander addressed him from the melee. "To your right!"

The pale horse came from seemingly nowhere, his rider slicing a soldier that was standing close to the priest. However, Rickhart didn't show any sign to have noticed him. His eyes were maniacal, bloodshot, like those of a wolf stalking its prey. And were focused on someone else.

He is going for Lowan. Once he falls, it will be all over. He must know how much the company relies on its commander...

"Stop right there!" he ordered, letting loose another bolt of light.

The necromancer turned towards him, the shot deflected by an invisible barrier.

Strange, I didn't perceive any kind of spell on his body. I'd better be careful.

"Nice try, old man!" laughed the boy. "Let me answer in kind!"

Tolwin ducked at the last possible moment, dodging a first beam of energy. A second one was absorbed by his holy shield, forcing a nervous smirk out of his opponent. The young necromancer now seemed pissed towards him, and that was exactly the kind of reaction that the priest wanted.

"I'm not letting you go," pointed out Tolwin. "I'm your opponent. Face me!"

For a second, Rickhart seemed uncertain on what to do, like he was considering his options. Then, four more living corpses appeared in front of their master, protecting him. Clearly, their purpose was getting rid of the old man. They came for him with a barrage of blows, so all he could do was blocking and falling back. Like it or not, Tolwin had to take care of those obstacles before facing Rickhart.

This isn't good. My strength is starting to fade. I used too much magic today...

Meanwhile the necromancer raised his left hand, this time pointing it at Lowan.

"Lowan! He wants you! Get down!"

The commander heard his warning and quickly used one of the undead as a meat shield. Even when cornered he was still a very skilled warrior, but Tolwin had to hurry. There was no way of getting on the offensive without taking a little risk.

"Die, you monsters!"

Four magic beams erupted from his weapon, piercing through the rotten bodies like they didn't exist. A moment later, all of them crumbled in dust.

Done. Now I just need to get in there...

"Hold on, Lowan" panted the priest. "Give me a second and-"

Rickhart fired again, and this time Lowan was turned the other way.

The spell flew across the air, in an instant. Tolwin couldn't do anything but watch it as it hit the commander in his back. The man stumbled. At a first glance, it didn't look like he had been struck by anything more powerful than a punch. Then, tendrils of dark energy spread through the body.

Makers help me... Something to protect him... There must be a way!

Except that there wasn't. He was well aware of it.

Lowan glanced at him for a last time, a ghastly look painted into his eyes. Two undead jumped on him, but the proud commander simply dropped the White Talon and let them bring him down.

"No!" yelled Tolwin. "Lowan!"

Fighting against the exhaustion, the old man moved forward. Wherever he looked, the mercenaries were dying.

No blessing could prevent that.

The necromancer was there, on his reanimated horse, smiling of satisfaction.

I'm bringing you down. Even if I'm not a paladin anymore, I'm still doing it.

The priest covered the last few meters, ready to swing his hammer.

"It's you and me now, old man!" his opponent taunted him, from the top of his mount. "I'll put an end to your suffering!"

Tolwin didn't even want to listen. All he cared about was breaking that wicked, cruel young man. With a roar, he charged forward.

Rickhart deflected three of his blows using the thin sword he was carrying. The weapon, just like his body, had been reinforced with his magic and wouldn't break like a regular one. Still, the hammer had received the very same treatment.

He is good. But he must have a limit. How many spells can you stil use, Rickhart?

Stubbornly, Tolwin kept the offensive high. There was no time for figuring out the right strategy, he needed to shatter his foe's guard relying on brute strength alone. That, however, meant being much more careless than usual.

"You are open, old man!"

The boy's weapon cut him on the left shoulder, making him groan from the pain. Surprised by the fact that his holy shield was already down, the priest took a few steps back to catch his breath. At that point, he suspected, one or two smiting bolts were all he had left.

What incredible power. I don't know how many souls he has consumed, but in terms of magic he has the upper hand even against someone like me. He is a monster!

Despite that, Tolwin wasn't willing to surrender. Rickhart had just killed Lowan, someone who had given new meaning to his broken life in the past, and he would have paid for it. For a moment, the old man's thoughts went to Roric, who was still fighting on the other side of the camp. If he was still alive, of course.

I have to do it. At least for the boy.

A surge of rage gave him energy, as he prepared for another assault.

I'll stop you right here, Rickhart. Be sure of it.

***

--- Roric

Roric's hands were shaking. His mind was fuzzy and unfocused.

Standing among the last survivors of the ongoing slaughter, the boy could only think about his mentor, who had to face that fearsome enemy all alone. Even if he couldn't say it, even if he didn't like the idea of putting his own apprentice in danger, Tolwin needed his help to win. It was written in his eyes, just a couple of minutes before.

Pain and fear got a hold on Roric, still too shaken by the death of his friends to act. In particular, he couldn't forget the memory of Meran's body exploding right in front of him.

I have to hold on. Clear your mind, Roric! Don't lose it now.

The young mercenary's blows were getting weaker and weaker, but he wasn't finished. All around him, the rest of the company was falling back. Some had tried to flee, only to be cornered and killed by the horde of monsters that had overrun the camp. There were no orders to follow, no captains to lead them anywhere. They were alone.

"What are we supposed to do?" murmured the boy. "We can't die here. Not like this."

Roric faced two opponents, whose faces he could barely recognize.

This is insane. I can't do it anymore...

Yet his instinct prevailed, as he struck down the turned soldiers. He didn't want for his life to end. Not there, not that day. Not when the only person he could have helped was still fighting for his sake. For a second, the boy was unsure of what was the right thing to do, but then he realized that there was barely any choice.

Screw this. Tolwin needs me. I'm going to take care of Rickhart along with him. We'll avenge all who have died here tonight. Where is he?

After turning around, Roric dashed in the direction where the commander was supposed to be. With a little luck, he would have still made it in time. Guided by his reflexes alone, the young mercenary dodged a spear and kept running until he finally reached the core of the battle.

No. Not this.

The priest was there, nearly beaten. He was covered in wounds, stumbling around just like the undead that were butchering his companions. A couple of meters from him, the necromancer was preparing for another strike.

"Roric..." groaned Tolwin, between a cough of blood and the other. "I told you to stay away."

The boy was speechless. His friend looked like he was nearing his limit, and nobody else was around to help him anymore. Still, even after seeing his mentor in that state, Roric's limbs wouldn't move. He couldn't take a single step. The sword felt heavier in his hands, the ground less stable below him. During all those years, he realized, nothing could have prepared him for a similar moment. It was just like living through the night of the raid in Spjaldir, all over again.

I have to do something! Move!

Rickhart lifted his blade and pushed the horse forward. The young mercenary tried to gather every last drop of his courage, but that wasn't enough.

What am I waiting for? If I don't save him now, who's going to?

Thanks to his Elemental nature Roric had a lot of time to think with clarity, and that made those few seconds even more terrifying. He could see every little movement of the dead beast, even the pieces of ground that flew away as its hooves carried on with its run.

Clenching his weapon with all his strength, the boy went through every detail of the rider as well. His long hair dancing in the wind, the smug look on his face. The eyes of a demon, ready to kill the person he cared for the most.

Tolwin-

His legs moved on their own, sprinting towards the priest. Instead of being surprised, the young mercenary felt relieved. He already knew what to do, and his hands weren't shaky anymore. Every ounce of his being was focused on that single, important task.

With a deep breath, Roric tapped into his spirit.

Charging like he was, Rickhart realized that he was in the way an instant too late and was unable to bring the horse to a full stop. The boy found himself face to face with the dreadful mount, and drove the sword into its belly with a desperate shout.

Something deep inside Roric's body seemed to answer his call. Its gentle touch ran through his arms, making him feel confident and powerful.

You will suffer. For all the lives you've taken, Rickhart.

Lightning erupted from his hands, climbing the entire length of the blade and spreading out in countless branches. The horse flinched, its flesh burning and fizzling, absorbing the discharge. Then it turned to the right and collapsed where he was, dragging his rider along.

The boy blinked two or three times. The heated blood on his sword was still boiling.

I did it. I can't believe it worked. I-

A disorienting headache shrouded his mind, so violently to blur his sight. His legs gave up, forcing him down to the knees. Somehow the young mercenary managed to keep a firm grip on his weapon, but now his fingers seemed to be made of heavy stone.

Damn it. This is bad. It hurts so much...

A second surge of pain came. Roric screamed, trying to reclaim his balance. Was that the price for using his powers? He couldn't be sure. Still, an unending moment later, he finally managed to focus his eyes and noticed that the fog had gotten lighter than before. The undead had also slowed down and seemed lost, for now. It was his chance.

Come on, stand up!

With a titanic effort, the boy got back on his feet. He stumbled towards Tolwin and helped him up.

"No..." grumbled the old man. "Don't lose your time with me. I'm done for... Save yourself."

"Like hell I'm going to," panted Roric. "I'm getting you out of here."

A glimpse of movement coming from the remains of the horse caught his attention. The necromancer was still alive. The young mercenary, however, wasn't remotely in the shape to fight anymore.

If I challenge Rickhart now, he'll make a quick work of me. Tolwin will die here and turn into a monster. And so will I.

He looked around, searching for a safe route to escape, and carried the priest to the open. Swinging his sword left and right, without really aiming, Roric broke through the crowd of living corpses and moved forward.

He won't take us. I won't let him.

A minute later, the two emerged from the fog and disappeared between the trees, escaping that living hell once and for all.