“Highfather protect us!” Ferdinand Steinfeld exclaimed as he peered over the parapets of the city wall. From his vantage point he could see the green vortex of arcane energies ravaging the burial grounds. It was a sight as awe inspiring as it was gut-wrenching. The Duke could feel its dark power tugging at his own mortal soul, waiting for the moment that he should depart this word so that his flesh and bones too could be added to the ranks of the restless horde.

A small army of the dead had already arisen from their graves. With soil and rot still dripping from their bones they marched on the city of Hadel. Their withered bodies cast frightening shadows as the green light of the necromantic corruption raged on behind them. It left a sickening bloom reaching out across the horizon that was strong enough to blot out the stars on this side of town.

The Duke’s soldiers stood silent. All mortal men, no matter their creed or race, shared a common fear of death. So it was no wonder that they also shared a deep and unsettling sensation of doom when faced with those that had arisen from its cold embrace. The walking dead were a frightening reminded that they too will one day shed their mortal form; that they too will wither and fade into nothingness.

They had come prepared for the fight, the Duke’s men, but beneath all the armor they were still mere mortals and afraid to die. Most of them carried swords and spears. Some had the slight fortune of wielding blunt weapons such as maces or hammers – those were better at crushing bone and breaking limb – for the dead cared not for the sharpness of ones blade, only the power behind the strike.

The undead were not an enemy that one could rout or negotiate with. Nor could they be persuaded to abandon their assault once it had commenced. Whatever perverse desires drove them ever onwards, the undead always fought to the last corpse standing, no matter the odds.

Concern quickly mounted among the recent conquerors, now turned defenders of the town. Their ranks slowly grew as more of the Duke’s men rallied to the gatepost, but

Lord Ferdinand was soon joined by his court priest, Talbot. Dressed in white robes and carrying an ivory staff, the skinny twig of a man emerged panting from the doorway of the gatehouse only to freeze in place once he caught a glimpse of the haunted cemetery and the undead army that it had spawned.

The Duke looked to his subject for guidance in this late hour. “What magic is this, Talbot?” he asked, hoping that the priestly man had a ready solution to his problem. “By the Seven, what in Highfather’s haloed name am I looking at right now?”

The priest muttered something under his breath, but did not rush with his reply. His terrified look jumped back and forth between the undead army and the vortex of souls rampaging across the cemetery atop of the hill.

“Talbot!” the Duke roared, “Answer me!”

The pale faced priest finally averted his gaze from the green glow. “I don’t understand…” he spoke barely loud enough for the Duke to hear, “I did everything right…”

“You did what?!” Ferdinand demanded to know, “What did you do, Talbot?!” He pointed towards the burial grounds. “What by the Oblivion is that?”

Talbot’s chin quivered in fear as he mumbled to himself, “I cast all the spells… Placed all the wards... Did the wards brake? Who broke them? Did I do it wrong? No, I couldn’t have… Then why did they break? Who broke them? I cast all the spells! Was it the wards? Was it–”

“Talbot!” Ferdinand yelled at his court priest, “The gods be damned, I will beat you senseless if you don’t answer me right now!”

Talbot stumbled towards the Duke, “We– we must go, My Lord!” he said. “We have to abandon the city while there is still time!”

The priest grabbed hold of the Duke’s sleeve. “Now!” he screamed. “We have to run now!”

Ferdinand tore away the priest’s arm and sent the craven man staggering towards the edge of the ramparts. “I can’t run away you damned fool!” he said. “Not when the whole kingdom is watching…”

Talbot latched on to the parapets for support as he pleaded to his lord, “Ferdinand, you have to listen to me – this is madness. We don’t– we don’t have the men to fight this!”

He pointed at the green glow atop of the hill, “That is the work of necromancy, My Lord!”

“Necromancy…” Ferdinand muttered. “Is there a necromancer’s hand behind this vile perversion of nature?” He asked. “Are we under attack?”

The priest shook his head, “Not necessarily, My Lord. The restless souls of the Rotwald men you slew… They could have caused this effect to manifest – a beacon of hatred.

But I thought I had taken all the necessary precautions when sanctifying the cemetery… No, this shouldn’t be happening.”

“Those damned Rotwalds!” Ferdinand ground his teeth. “Even from beyond the grave you hound me!”

The two men spent a moment contemplating their options as the horrible scenario unfolded before their eyes.

The restless souls formed a whirlpool of energy in the skies above the burial grounds. It spun and it weaved as more and more awakened spirits were drawn into it form the cold ground beneath. Fresh corpses rose up from the dirt and shuffled towards the city forming a long chain of vengeful bodies.

Ferdinand voiced his considerations, “Well, the garrison has been alerted and we can count on some support from you Talbot–”

The priest winced. “I can fight them, My Lord,” he said, “But there is only so much my spells can do to aid us against this many undead.

Our best course of actions should be to evacuate the city,” Talbot advised. “We have disarmed the Rotwald militia and our men cannot fend off this army on their own. Please, see reason! We cannot defend the town as we are now! The cost would be too great.

We can return later,” the priest reasoned, “When the undead will have dispersed – that would be the wisest course of action, I think.”

The Duke grabbed the priest by the collar of his robe. “I know that, damn it!” he said.

Ferdinand pulled Talbot up close to himself and whispered so that the others could not overhear them. “I cannot give up on Hadel now,” he explained, holding back his anger. “I took the risk – I brought my forces to confront the Rotwalds over their conspiracy. I cannot be seen retreating from their seat of power. Not now, not when I have the whole damned kingdom watching.

The Duke let go of the priest. “Those men out there,” he said and pointed to the undead horde, “Those walking corpses are a testament to their defiance. If I run then I will be seen as weak. In death, the Rotwalds will have driven me off from their accursed land.

Even now the other marsh nobles are weighing their options. If I am defeated and the city is lost then they might well rise up in rebellion over what I did to House Rotwald. And then all of this tragedy will have been for naught.

Do you understand, Talbot? Do you get it?”

The priests uneasily grappled his staff as he considered the words of his liege.

“Look at them,” Ferdinand said and gestured his men. The terrified soldiers were busying themselves by gathering stones and bricks for the defense of the city, as their bows and crossbows were going to be of no use against their undead foes.

“They don’t need to hear about your concerns,” he told the priest. “These men have to be convinced of our victory. How can I do that if you look like you are about to soil yourself?”

“I apologize, My Lord,” the priest muttered. His previously fearful expression now turned to shame. “I should go and prepare a sacrifice at the Temple. Surely, the gods will see us through this.”

Ferdinand nodded. “And we have the advantage of the walls, so–” the Duke froze mid-sentence.

Dong–dong.­­

Dong–dong.­­

Dong–dong.­­

The air shook to the sound of a low ringing bell. The deep, somber tone echoed over the walls coming from the tall temple tower at the center of the town.

“By the gods! What is it now?” the Duke asked as they all peered towards the temple is search of an explanation.

“Alarm! Bring the guards– bring the militia!” a soldier yelled from below the gatepost.

“What is it?” the Duke yelled back down at him, “Why are you ringing the temple bell?”

“It’s the undead my lord!” the soldier answered struggling to catch his breath, “They have risen– the crypts below– below the temple!”

“That’s impossible!” the priest proclaimed. “I looked to the holy wards of those catacombs myself!”

“Damn it!” the Duke cursed, “Well they have been broken now, Talbot.”

Ferdinand once more peered over the parapets at the gathering army of undead. “To the Oblivion with the Rotwalds and their accursed land! Even in death they conspire against me!”

“We have locked them inside the temple halls,” the messenger continued, “But it might not keep them long.”

Somehow the situation had managed to turn even worse. All the soldiers gathered at the gatepost and on the walls now looked to their lord, awaiting his decision.

Ferdinand clutched at the parapets in anger. “I can’t abandon the city now!” he proclaimed. “Not when the king is watching. We must hold this place at all cost.”

The Duke turned to his men and straightened his posture to appear imposing as he delivered his decision. “Gather anyone who is willing and able to fight for their homes,” he ordered. “We will use the town’s militia to hold back the undead already inside the city–”

“But can we split up out men like that?” Talbot asked. “There are hardly enough of us to man the walls, let alone cleanse the crypt!”

“Here is what we are going to do,” Ferdinand commanded, “We will use the town’s militia to barricade the entrance to the crypts. I don’t trust them to man the walls, anyway.

How many sarcophagi did you see down there, Talbot?”

“A little over a hundred, My Lord,” the priest replied. “If this curse has truly awakened them all… We– we need more men!”

The Duke turned to the closest soldier. “You there! Go and find Kaleb,” he ordered. “That rogue must have faced the undead many times before. Bring him to the temple. I will meet you there to organize a foray into the crypt.”

“Yes, My Lord!” the young soldier answered and rushed off.

The Duke now addressed the soldiers that had gathered on the wall alongside him, “I want all of you to gather your horses and equipment and meet me below the gatehouse within the hour. We are not waiting for the undead to overwhelm us. We are going to sally forth and cut down their numbers as much as possible. It is our best chance for a victory.” He gestured at the undead horde, “We will crush them before they reach the walls and I will lead the charge!”

Having heard that their lord would personally take to the field of battle appeared to have encouraged his men as they wasted no time in setting out for the armory.

Once only Ferdinand and Talbot remained the Duke gave the priest his final command. “If the undead inside the city can’t be confined to the crypt, you must collapse the church on top of them. Is that clear, Talbot?”

“But the house of gods–”

“Is just a house, Talbot. See to it that this whole city does not turn into a graveyard.”

The Duke leaned on the parapets observing the green glow rampaging across the graveyard. “The gods will forgive us if we win in the end. If we survive this night I might just build a couple of temples myself.”

The light of the green vortex was mirrored in the Duke’s eyes, but the rage in them was his and his alone. “This land is cursed!” he said as he lamented his decisions, “I wish I hadn’t sent Yarek off on that damned demon hunt. He would have known of a better way to deal with this damned situation.”

***

A passage consumed by utter darkness; walls of stone and a cold hard floor.

Kaleb ran down a never ending corridor to the sound of his own beating heart. Confused, terrified and exhausted, the rogue panted as he drove himself onwards, desperately seeking to escape the monster chasing him.

A low growl – much like that of an angry wolf’s – echoed through the hallway from behind him. It sent a cold chill down Kaleb’s spine. He could fell the monster’s breath on the back of his neck. It reeked of death.

It is right behind me! Kaleb thought. He was certain of it, did not have the courage to turn his head and find out if the beast was truly there or not. If I look back now I will die!

The featureless stone walls morphed into a gallery of familiar faces. They were the expression of his comrades, merged with the worn stone walls of the corridor. Their death masks, frozen in a silent scream for help, followed the running man with their cold, dead eyes.

The rough stone expressions looked as though they were weeping, but was it for their own cruel fate or Kaleb’s?

Faster. Faster! He dashed past the first set of faces only to find them repeating over and over, multiplying in number until the stone surface of the walls had been completely replaced by the weeping faces.

Slap–slap–slap. Kaleb looked down to find red puddles of blood below his feet. He pressed onwards trying his best to avoid them.

Slap–slap–slap–slap. The puddles grew larger and more numerous until the floor had all but disappeared beneath them.

Where is this all coming from? he feverishly wondered.

The faces! Kaleb realized that the weeping faces of his dead companions were the source of the blood. Long streams of red ran down the expressions on the walls and gathered in a river of blood that now had developed a slow current. It flowed counter to him – pushing him back and into the unseen jaws of the predator chasing him.

“You won’t stop me! You hear that!?” Kaleb yelled as he ran through the rising tide of blood that was now reaching up to his ankles. I won’t die here! I won’t stop!

“RAWWR!” the beast bellowed from behind him.

Terrified by his voice, Kaleb stumbled and fell. Struggling with the thick red liquid he clawed his way back up on his feet and continued his march against the rising tide.

The stairs! Kaleb finally saw an end to his journey. There were stone steps leading up. That’s the exit! he thought, I made it!

Slumped forward out of exertion he was now wading through the knee deep blood in a final push for salvation from the monster chasing him. Kaleb screamed out in anger as he forced his heavy legs forward, desperately paddling through the blood with his hands – as if they could help.

The rogue’s heart jumped as he felt the first step of the staircase touch his foot. Up! Up! Up!

It almost seemed to him like the blood was trying to drag him back down, but Kaleb fought with all of his strength to free himself from the bindings of fate; the strength sapping grasp of death.

As he clawed his way up the staircase, he could not shake the feeling that the monster was just about to catch him. The red beast! The red beast is coming for me!

“LITTLE MAN!” the booming voice called out to him. The crypt shook. Clash of waves echoed through the corridor behind him as the beast dredged through the river of blood in search of the one who had escaped.

Like a jolt of lightning, the terrifying voice shot though Kaleb’s body and left his muscles in cramps. The rogue stumbled and lost his footing on the blood covered steps of the staircase. He fell and tumbled down into the darkness of the crypt – into the horrible fangs of the demon.

He landed in the river of blood with a loud splash. “No! Gods, please, spare me!” Kaleb sobbed as he tried to force himself up again.

A massive red claw reached out for him. “FOUND YOU!” the beast growled.

The demon’s fangs bit into Kaleb’s flesh. Ripping – tearing – killing.

Pain. Horror. Death.

Kaleb awoke in his room. His heart was racing and the terrified rogue was drenched in sweat. Still sensing the presence of the demon, the rogue frantically examined his surroundings, but found the cramped, dusky room to be empty.

It was a happy realization – he was alone. He was safe from the beast chasing him.

“A nightmare– a nightmare… It’s over,” Kaleb reassured himself while trying calm down.

His head was pounding from the previous night’s drinking, so the rogue settled back down to try and fall asleep once again, only to find that the noise induced pain would not subside. It took Kaleb a while to understand the deep ringing noise was in fact not just in his head but coming from outside the room.

The heavy tool of a bell resonated through the walls – the hurried clangor of a temple bell.

“At this hour?” Kaleb looked to the tiny opening on the wall that passed for a window. “What is going on out there?”

Bang, bang, bang.

Kaleb jumped to the sound of someone frantically beating on the door of his room. A dagger in hand, he rose from his bed and walked over to the source of the commotion.

“Kaleb!” a coarse man’s voice sounded from the other side, “You have been summoned by the Duke.”

This late? “What does he want?” he asked in a raspy voice, trying to hide his anxiety.

“Lord Steinfeld requests your immediate presence in the market square,” the messenger announced.

The market square? By the Seven, why would he need me there at this hour?

Not sensing any immediate danger, Kaleb lowered the dagger. “Why?” he asked, “What is going on?”

“We are under attack,” followed a stub reply.

Kaleb’s face warped in terror. The demon! Has he come for me?! How could he have found me? Is it already inside the city walls? The market square?

He leaned against the door, frantically considering his options.

“It’s the Rotwald men,” the voice from beyond the door explained, “They have risen from their graves and are now gathering outside the city walls. We have even more of them down in the crypts of the temple…”

The Rotwald men?

“The undead…” Kaleb sighed in relief, It’s just the undead.

Kaleb felt life slowly return to his body. He searched the room for his equipment.

“You can wait for me downstairs,” he told the messenger. “I will be with you in a moment.”

It’s just the undead, Kaleb, calm down. The demon cannot find you here. He smiled. Yeah, that’s right – you’re just being paranoid, Kaleb.

Kaleb soon emerged from his room dressed and ready for combat. Having checked to make sure that there was no one in the corridor behind him, the rogue raised his left hand and loosened the grip around a small crystal nestled in his palm.

The red crystal in Kaleb’s hand which was known as ‘amber’ or ‘wizard’s torch’ gave off a faint red light that allowed him to navigate his way through the corridor. The red spectrum of the crystal’s light made it more difficult for someone to spot the source of it, all the while casting enough illumination on Kaleb’s immediate surroundings for him to traverse them with ease.

Bah! Why did it have to happen in the middle of the night? Can’t the dead rise when my head isn’t killing me?

Kaleb felt like he had slept for a good few hours, but the short nights of summer were already behind him. The darkness would last longer and longer with every passing day, making it hard for Kaleb to guess just how late or early it was exactly.

The bells are still ringing. Must be serious if they felt like warning the entire city.

He clutched the handle of the steel mace hanging from his belt. The compact blunt weapon was Kaleb’s go-to choice for when he had to fight the undead. It had a shorter reach than most other maces but was easy to carry and effective enough that he could dispatch with individual undead without too much difficulty. The spiked iron head of the weapon was attached to a sturdy oak handle with a counter weight at the bottom of it for balancing. Due to the small size of it as well as the lack of a hand guard the mace was almost useless for parrying and would leave him at a disadvantage when facing longer weapons, but Kaleb found this particular design to be just right for the close up and personal work that it needed to get done – attacking with it from the behind, mostly. Especially when he went up against other humans…

As he made his way down from the second floor Kaleb was greeted by two men: the innkeeper and the man sent to fetch him on behalf of the Duke.

The owner of the inn was already at the door, holding it open with a disdainful look on his face. The flame of the lone candle in his hand flickered as the steady night breeze whistled in through the doorway.

Kaleb graced the innkeeper with a threatening expression as he passed him by.

Yeah, you don’t like me, pops – I get it. But you take my money anyway. He grinned, “I like how the drinks here are less watered down than elsewhere in this crappy little town. See to it that your inn doesn’t mysteriously burn down one day.”

Without as much as a reply, the owner of the inn showed Kaleb and the Duke’s messenger out, slamming shut the door behind them.

“These folks don’t seem to like us very much,” the messenger remarked as they made for the market square through the narrow city streets.

Scant few torches had been lit at the crossroads, but other than that the city was shrouded in dusk. Likewise, the windows were dark and the citizens seemed wise enough not to wonder outside right now.

“They don’t like me,” Kaleb corrected the man, “But they hate you people a whole lot more. I bet you guys killed someone he knew.”

He took out a flask from his pocket and offered it to the young soldier. It reeked of some foul and strong alcohol.

The boy refused, so the rogue shrugged and downed it all by himself.

Kaleb wiped his mouth before continuing, “If there is anything that I have learned in my line of work, it is that people don’t exactly take to loving you for killing their friends and family.” He grinned. “Odd, that, isn’t it?”

“Well, the Rotwalds left us no choice,” the young soldier argued. “It was justice.”

The boy’s excuses angered Kaleb. “Don’t pull that crap on me, boy!” he lashed out at the young soldier. “I know how this world works better than you ever will. We are all just fighting to survive. There is no right or wrong.

The Rotwalds are dead because they were terrible at killing people. I’m good at it – I get to live.”

“What we did here was justified!” the boy insisted, “We are soldiers, not murderers. They were traitors.”

Kaleb frowned. “Don’t pretend that you are above a common killer, just because you killed people for someone else’s righteous cause. We are all terrible people. The Duke and I are just better at being terrible than most. That’s how we get to do the things that we do. All the while the little people like you feed on the scraps.”

The soldier’s expression tensed, but he kept silent, not wishing to further agitate the crude man.

“That’s right,” Kaleb grinned, “Know your place. You have to lick your lord’s boots and leech off of his success just as I do. Only I am way better than you, boy. You can pretend that your morals and your honor make you better, but you can’t even speak your mind – lest I cut off your tongue for it.

Now stop with that justice crap and let me enjoy the silence while it lasts.”

The tolling of the bell had indeed stopped.

Kaleb looked up over the city wall and at the pale green glow that pulsed on the other side of it. How many undead are we facing? he wondered.

By the time they had reached the market square, the Duke had already gathered his men and was shouting out orders from atop of his horse. He was surrounded by a dozen soldiers carrying his crest on their shields, but the rest were the city’s militia. Some thirty men of various creeds and ages were listening to the Duke’s less than inspiring speech about how they were going to be ‘defending their city and loved ones’.

If it weren’t for the undead, those very same men would be tying a noose around your noble neck right about now.

Kaleb circumvented the rabble and approached the Duke directly.

“Finally you have graced us with your presence, Kaleb!” the Duke exclaimed having noticed the arrival of his messenger and the man he was sent to fetch.

“Listen up, men!” Ferdinand pointed at Kaleb, “He has fought the undead countless times. Kaleb will be in charge with organizing the defense of the temple.”

“What about you,” a man from the crown yelled out at the Duke, “You running away or what?”

The militiamen were becoming restless and the Duke’s soldiers reacted to the growing tension by raising their shields in defense of their lord. The two parties appeared to be heading for a standoff, when the Duke spurred his horse towards the militia to break retake the initiative.

The townspeople made way out of fear of being trampled, but Ferdinand halted just after crossing the line of his soldiers.

“I have made my peace with the gods,” he announced. “An army of the dead is gathering outside the city walls even as we speak.”

He pointed his sword towards the green glow rising from beyond the city walls where the burial grounds were located. “I will sally forth from the city to try and draw them away. I do this to protect you, not just myself.

Do you really think I would still be here if I didn’t care about the lives of my subjects? I had no desire to resort to violence when the Rotwalds rebelled against me.” He placed his hand on his chest, “I was the one they wronged. They brought this fate upon themselves. And now they even rise from their graves to attack this city! If anything, it is proof of their wicked ways.”

The crowd kept silent. On any other occasion they might have argued in defense of their liege lord, but the issue of the undead and the defense of the city had taken precedence.

I don’t think they would ever question the Rotwalds, Kaleb thought to himself. The Duke is wasting his breath.

Ferdinand turned his horse around and rode past Kaleb. “I entrust you with handling the situation at the temple. Take command of these twelve soldiers and all the militia you can muster.

I won’t lie to you – there might be up to a hundred corpses gathering in those catacombs below the city as we speak…”

He looked to the militiamen and shouted one last encouragement, “But the city will not fall tonight! Not while I am here!”

Kaleb nodded out of courtesy. Whatever you say.

“Don’t die out there, My Lord.” Else I won’t get paid.

With the Duke gone, Kaleb looked to the slap-dash force of fighters that his lord had left him with. He reasoned that the twelve soldiers should be able to hold their own, but the militia looked far too frightened to have had any substantial combat experience. Moreover, while the soldiers were clad in mail hauberks with thick, wool padded gambesons worn beneath them for added protection, the militia had little to no equipment. The men carried hatchets, clubs and knives for weapons. Most had no shields. Some had even come armed with pitchforks and scythes that were next to worthless going up against the undead.

Kaleb was disgusted by his troops and they did not look too happy about the man set to lead them either.

The brief moment of silence gave way to a torrent of questions and complaints as they came gushing forth from the rabble.

“… Where are the rest of the Duke’s men?”

“… Why did he leave you in charge?”

“We need swords, Kaleb!” a militiaman standing at the front said. Unlike the others he at least had a helmet and carried a half decent wooden round shield, but he lacked a proper weapon, just like the rest of them.

The man pointed towards the soldiers, shouting angrily, “They confiscated all of our weapons when they occupied the city! How are we supposed to fight without them?”

The flood of accusations and complaints directed at Kaleb and the Duke’s soldiers continued. The militiamen were getting riled up alright, but for the wrong cause entirely.

Fortunately, Kaleb was no pampered nobleman, and neither was he a tempered monk. The rugged and ruthless killer knew exactly how to work a crowd of commoners.

“Shut up, you bloody, wretched cretins!” Kaleb roared at the noisy rabble. “I’m in charge now! Either you listen to me or I will cut off your balls and feed them to the undead in the crypts.”

As the expectant men settled down he continued in a lower voice, “They’re the undead – they don’t bleed. Just grab the nearest tool you can find and clobber them into dust!”

The militiamen looked to one another and the shoddy weapons that they currently carried.

“This is a battle for survival!” Kaleb explained. “The undead are outside the city walls – the undead are inside the city walls. Unless you want to die tonight, I suggest you better quit your whining and fight back.”

Kaleb frowned as he paced around in front of the militiamen. “You weak little cowards disgust me,” he said. “Why do you think the Rotwalds lost so easily? They were not prepared, that’s why! It’s a tough world outside of these walls and only those that are willing to fight can survive in it.

Now fight or die!”

He opened his arms wide as he issued his first command, “Go and get yourselves some proper blunt weapons so that we can hold his city! Get hammers, get clubs. God damned table legs will do in a pinch!”

The militiamen stared in silence at the rogue-turned-commander.

Kaleb shrugged, “Now?”

The mob dispersed and scattered throughout the market square and nearby houses in search of tools.

As the militia went about preparing for the battle the actual soldiers at Kaleb’s disposal gathered around him.

The young messenger that had brought Kaleb to the Duke was the first to speak. “What is the plan… sir?” he asked, unsure as to how he should honor him.

“What’s your name?” Kaleb snapped at the young man.

“Brian, sir,” the boy replied.

“First of all, Brian, don’t call me a ‘sir’. I am not a pampered noble that gets his erections from being sucked up to. Nor am I a bloody knight with a sword so far up my arse that I can taste steel. The name’s Kaleb and don’t call me anything else, you got that?”

Brian nodded in agreement, “Very well, Kaleb.”

“Very well, Kaleb,” the rogue mocked Brian’s response. “You bloody sods are going to get me killed tonight…”

He took a deep breath. “Alright, here is what we are going to do.”

***

Forty something men stood in uncomfortable silence before the steps of the temple. Twelve armor clad soldiers at the front with their shields raised and swords drawn. Thirty some raggedly armed and armored militiamen bunched up behind the first line, wielding an assortment of tools, clubs and bits of wood, sweating profusely as they huddled together for safety.

Bam! – Something hard slammed against the closed wooden doors of the temple from the inside.

The band of defenders flinched, but stood their ground.

Bam! – The doors shook, but looked to be holding.

We could really have used that witch hunter with his silver alloy blades right about now, Kaleb thought as he eyed the scrappy band of mostly would-be fighters at his side.

The rogue cautiously approached the locked entrance with the key in one hand and his trusty mace in the other.

Despite the initial protests of his subordinates, Kaleb had convinced the men that the entrance to the crypt had to be secured before attempting any further action. The temple had many large windows that, once broken could be used by their enemies to venture out into the city. Holding off the undead at the point of entrance, he reasoned, was their best chance at staving off such a breakout.

It was a daring plan, given the exceedingly poor quality of the troops at his command, but it was the best one he could come up with on such short notice.

Kaleb turned the key and unlocked the door.

Bam! – The double doors of the temple parted slightly as something slammed into them from the other side. A small opening was made, but nothing came charging out from the temple. Not yet.

The defenders readied their weapons while Kaleb fell back in line with the rest of them. A moment passed in eerie silence as they awaited the outpouring of the dead from within the temple grounds.

A sword scraped against the rim of a shield – no reaction from inside the temple followed.

Someone changed his footing and clumsily dragged his feet across the cobblestone – no reaction from inside the temple.

Brian turned to Kaleb and whispered, nodding his head at the door, “Should we–”

Bam! – The door flew open and the mummified remains of three humans charged out, towards the shield wall. They clashed with the line of soldiers up front who reacted by pushing the undead away and down onto the ground with their shields. The rest of the men went to work clobbering the pinned monsters all over with their improvised weapons.

Kaleb stood by as the rabble tore apart the helpless undead in a fit of adrenalin fueled rage. The militiamen went on smashing the poor corpses well beyond the point where they had ceased to be a threat.

“That’s enough!” he ordered, “They’re dead!”

He ended up having to pull the militiamen away from the pulverized remains of the undead. The dazed volunteer fighters fell back in line behind the row of the Duke’s soldiers that had already assembled into a shield wall a few steps closer to the temple door.

A brief moment of glory and pride was shared by the lot of them as the men came to their senses. Their first encounter with the undead had ended quite favorably for the living, but Kaleb knew that three corpses down meant a hundred more to go at this point, so he refrained from celebrating.

Since no more enemies followed through the wide open doorway of the temple, he signaled for the formation to advance inside. Each of the soldiers was followed closely by two or more militiamen to cover his sides and rear. Since keeping a wide formation was difficult in the cramped indoor areas, this arrangement was a compromise where the soldiers would keep the undead occupied while their attendants would look for opportunities to overwhelm them.

As the first two groups had passed the threshold, Kaleb followed them inside the temple proper. He kept a watchful eye for any undead that might be lurking on the other side as he did not trust the senses of his fellow men.

The intruders did not have to wait long for the dead residents to welcome them.

No sooner had the first groups entered the great hall of the temple than they ran into the undead wondering around inside of it. The first five soldiers to cross the threshold arranged themselves into a line and patiently waited for the rest of the men. One by one, they took up positions at either end of the shield wall expanding their defensive line.

With their formation spread out across the width of the hall, Kaleb ordered an advance towards the far side of the temple and, ultimately, the entrance to the crypt.

Only a few steps in, the defenders were met by a second charge of the undead variety. Drawn in by the noised made by the humans as they crowded into the temple, a band of undead emerged from one of the side rooms and dashed towards the living.

Judging from how little of their skin remained on the bones of the unfortunate creatures, these undead looked to be considerably older than the previous group. They were not, however, any less agile as was made apparent by the speed of their advance.

The eleven reanimated corpses clashed with the defensive line commanded by Kaleb. Some of them even used the wooden benches that were laid out throughout the hall to launch themselves into the air and onto their enemies from above.

The soldiers at the front took the brunt of the charge head on, braced behind their shields. Some of the undead, however, managed to squeeze their way through the gaps in the line where the collision of a previous body had left an opening. They lunged at the soldiers, grabbing hold of them. In response the militiamen desperately wailed at the undead, trying to crush their bones in an attempt to pry them away from the soldiers.

It was a hectic, but quick fight. Half of the creatures had been slain by the time a second group of undead emerged into the main hall of the temple. Kaleb’s men took them on in a fashion similar to their previous engagement. A small difference was made by the fact that some of these monsters carried rusted swords.

The undead charged the shield wall just as it advanced past the midsection of the great hall. The unarmed ones tried to grapple their opponents, while the ones carrying swords slashed clumsily at the shields of the soldiers up front. They were powerful strikes that staggered the soldiers, but only left shallow dents in the shields due to the blades being blunt.

According to the traditions, warriors were still commonly buried with their weapons so that they could use them in the afterlife. They were, however, always dulled first as to avoid the possibility of arming the corpse if it was ever resurrected. Sharpening stones were usually provided along with the weapon, reasoning that the spirit could use them in the afterlife to once more make his weapon fit for battle – an ability that the undead thankfully lacked. It was a half way compromise between tradition and necessity.

Soon enough the main hall had been cleared and a considerable number of the undead had been laid to rest. Though the men had taken no casualties in the process, their endurance was running low.

The undead were noticeably inferior to the living when fighting one on one, but during an extended engagement their endless vigor and relentlessness were a hard advantage to counter. An army of the undead does not so much out perform their enemies on the field of battle as they overwhelm them by the merit of sheer numbers and grit.

In a battle of attrition, the dead man is king.

The forty men sent to the clear the crypt were already feeling the muscle pains caused by their reckless fighting. The militiamen in particular lacked the endurance of professional soldiers. Even with the added strain of heavy armor, the Duke’s men stood head and shoulders over the part-time defenders of the city. They braced their shields before them and took up a fighting stance time and time again, while the tolls in the hands of the militiamen rose slower and slower with each and every hit delivered.

In spite of their exhaustion, the men pressed onwards, knowing that a new waved could assault them at any moment unless the entrance of the crypt was sealed for good.

As Kaleb peered beyond the doorway on the far side of the great hall, he spotted the staircase leading down into the crypt. The room appeared unguarded, so he waved for the others to follow and snuck inside.

Having made sure that there were no undead left inside the temple propper, Kaleb took to scouting the point of descent into the crypt.

The staircase was wide enough for five men to stand side by side, so it was going to require a lot of material to barricade.

Brian immediately set about organizing the men for the task at hand, “Bring up those heavy benches from the great hall. I want everything that you can lift, push or pull around this place to be gathered here,” he pointed at the staircase, “We are going to plug that hole up good.”

The militiamen set about gathering the materials while the Duke’s soldiers arranged themselves around the staircase, ready to hold back whatever monstrosity would emerge next from crypt below.

In a short while they had managed to fill up the passageway with furniture. The improvised barricade would have to make due until the assault from the graveyard had been dealt with.

All in all their slap-dash defense of the temple had been a success.

Kaleb looked contentedly at the men under his command. With the staircase barricaded, the soldiers could finally remove some of their heavy armor and have a rest. They looked tired but confident in their victory.

The militiamen, on the other hand, were almost ecstatic. The amateur soldiers exchanged jubilant conversations as they reminisced over the brief but hectic battle that they had just endured. The fact that no one had gotten seriously hurt had lured them into a false sense of security.

Fools, Kaleb smiled bitterly as he eyed his soldiers. They think the battle is over already.

As Kaleb had predicted, their moment of rest was short lived. The celebrations of the militiamen were brought to an abrupt end when the noise of heavy pounding against the other side of the barricade rang out through the room.

Startled, the men looked to their commander. The Duke’s soldiers rose to their feet, holding their swords at the ready.

Kaleb walked up to the shoddy looking pile of furniture that obstructed the descent into the crypt and peered into the darkness beyond through the many gaps in the improvised obstacle. As he raised his amber crystal in his hand and shone its red light through the gaps in the barricade the outlines of the undead gathered beyond could be made out. They wailed against the improvised fortification in an attempt to tear it down with their bare hands.

Brian walked up to Kaleb and examined the barricade.

“Will this be enough to hold them back?” he asked.

Kaleb shook his head, “We need to reinforce it some more.”

He turned to the militiamen that eagerly awaited his next orders. “Gather more wood from the market square outside. Bring barrels, bring crates. Whatever you can find – bring it all here.”

The men hastily set out on their task. Only Kaleb and the soldiers remained behind to guard the staircase.

Kaleb turned to Brian, “I will leave this to you now.”

“But the Duke left you in command,” Brian objected. “Where are you going?”

Kaleb headed for the door. “There is nothing more I can do here,” he said. “If we are lucky, the barricade will hold.” He stepped aside to let a couple of militiamen past. They carried long heavy wooden beams for reinforcing the barricade.

“I will seek out the Duke,” Kaleb explained. “I will inform him of the situation at the temple. There is a lot of room downstairs, so the undead will inevitably drag most of the stuff you thrown in there down with them. Just make sure to keep piling up the barricade on your end and it should be fine. They have to run out of space down there eventually.”

Brian nodded and smiled. “Be careful out there.”

Kaleb turned his back to the soldier and left the room without giving a reply.

As he stepped outside of the temple he was met by a lone horseman in a white robe. The market square was alive with the frantic scurrying of the militiamen as they went about bringing in more materials to reinforce the barricade with.

“I see that you have managed to hold back the undead,” Talbot said. The priest lowered his staff placing it across the back of his horse. “Not bad for a gutter runt.”

“And I see that you have managed not to soil yourself,” Kaleb replied. “Such a pretty white robe – I doubt it has enough space for two pieces of shit at once.”

The priest frowned. “Know your place, heretic,” Talbot said. “Your wretched soul is due for judgment anyway. Don’t tempt me, or I will send you to the gods.”

Kaleb secretly drew one of his throwing daggers, concealing it in his hand, “You want to have a go at me, dust sniffer?”

Talbot scoffed at him, “As if you were worth the arcanite.” He shook his head. “No, we have more pressing matters to attend to.”

“Wise choice,” Kaleb replied. He swiftly slid the dagger back into its holster.

The priest was none the wiser.

“With the temple dealt with, I assume we can focus on the graveyard?” Kaleb asked as he followed the priest across the market square towards the besieged portion of the city wall.

The priest lowered his head in defeat. “It is not going well, Kaleb,” he said. “There were… too many undead to contend with. We failed.”

As they turned the corner towards the southern gatehouse they found the street leading up to it littered with exhausted and wounded soldiers. The Duke’s men looked beaten down and ragged as Kaleb waked them by.

This looks bad…

He and the priest stepped around the body of a dead horse that had bled out and collapsed right in the middle of the street. It had countless claw and bite marks covering its body.

The wounded horses had been gathered up at the right side of the street, but most of them looked like they were not going to last the night. For such strong creatures they were surprisingly delicate an easy to put out of action.

The massive wooden double door of the southern gate closed shut with a heavy thud. The last of the Duke’s men had just made it back inside. They appeared worn out and demoralized. All had sallied forth on horseback, but most now returned on foot. Some marched, but some limped. Others were carried along by their comrades. And it was a sure bet that some would not return at all.

“Gods be damned!” the Duke roared from atop of his horse. Having struggled with the clasps of his helmet for a while he finally tore it off and threw it to the ground. “To the Oblivion with this bloody place! Dammed be the Rotwalds! Void take their souls!”

Kaleb and the priest made their way over to their liege. Some thirty soldiers surrounded the Duke, but they gave way as they approached. Exhausted and covered in dirt and grime they looked to have endured a brutal beating from the undead horde.

Kaleb did not envy them.

“Are you wounded, My Lord?” Talbot asked.

“No,” followed an angry reply. Ferdinand looked to his men, “Take some rest. I will command the defense of the city from the walls. Now we await their assault...”

With the help of one of his soldiers, the Duke dismounted his horse and headed for the gatehouse. The heavy plate armor he wore looked cumbersome to Kaleb, but he could appreciate the protection that it provided.

The priest dismounted, picked up the helmet that Ferdinand had discarded and headed after his liege.

Kaleb was about to follow, when he was startled by a heavy thud.

A horse had just collapsed under the weight of the armored soldier mounting it. The poor beast looked as though it had fainted, which was bad news for the rider, who was now pinned underneath it.

The other soldiers jumped into action trying to free their struggling comrade.

Kaleb left the scene amidst all the commotion and ascended the steep stairs of the gatehouse. He found the priest and the Duke engaged in a heated discussion at the top of the fortification.

“… that is why we must leave while there is still time!” Talbot insisted. “My arcanite–” he looked back at the staircase and found Kaleb standing there. Without paying much mind to the rogue listening in on their conversation he continued, “My body is running low on arcanite and I don’t think that I can push myself any further. I could try and protect you if it came to life or death, but I cannot assist with the defense any longer.”

The Duke looked beaten as he observed the horizon beyond the cemetery hill. “The sun is rising–” he said in a frail voice. “Would you look at that? We lived to see the morning…”

“It doesn’t matter,” Talbot argued, “They won’t stop their assault just because of it.”

“The light will weaken them, though,” the Duke said. “At least we have that on our side.”

The priest shook his head, “It won’t be enough. We have to retreat.”

Talbot’s words seemed to have enraged the Duke, who proceeded to grab the priest by his robe. “I can’t flee, you fool!” he shouted, “How many times must I make myself clear? We have to make our stand here or it will all have been for naught!”

Maybe it was the hangover or the thrill of battle, or the nightmare from before, but Kaleb felt an urge to speak his mind on the subject. He was not usually a man who much cared for others, but the past few days had left him reevaluating a lot of his life choices. It was, perhaps, due to this lapse in judgment that he decided to step forward to offer his opinion on the matter.

“We can hold them back, My Lord,” Kaleb said.

Both the priest and the Duke looked to the rogue.

As Kaleb got closer to the edge of the gatehouse he surveyed the field of battle below. Across the open plain lied scattered the savaged remains of the undead. It was hard to tell their number, but the toll must have reached into the hundreds. Most lied perfectly still, while some looked to have been merely crippled as they dragged their misshapen bodies across the ground. Yet a thousand more still roamed the field in search of an enemy.

While the Duke and his men had inflicted a considerable number of casualties, they had also taken some in return. Kaleb spotted nine bodies of men out among the heaps of bone and rotten flesh. Many more horses than soldiers had lost their lives at the hands of the undead, but it was a heavy loss none the less.

“They overwhelmed us,” the Duke spoke in a soft voice. “There were just too many. The horses – they just… couldn’t endure the assault.”

He turned to Kaleb, “How did it go at the temple?”

“We are holding them back,” Kaleb answered, “For now.”

“Casualties?”

“None.”

“Good…” Ferdinand smiled. “That’s good.

Talbot?”

“Yes My Lord?”

“Seeing as how you are now useless to me, go and guard the temple. Send me any men that you can spare.

Oh, and… pray for all of us, would you?”

The priest looked disappointed, but did not press the issue of retreat any further. “Very well, My Lord.”

He then bowed and left.

Kaleb walked up to the Duke who was peering over the parapets at the field of battle below.

“We lost nine men out there,” the Duke said and gave Kaleb a quick glance. “I saw the monsters rip them apart right before my eyes.

The wounded will have to fight on. Without them there are only about eighty of us to man the walls now.”

“What about the townsfolk?” Kaleb asked.

The Duke nodded. “If it comes to that, I suppose we can order everyone in the city to take up arms in defense of it. We have the weapons to arm them with, but–”

“They would be of little help,” Kaleb said.

Ferdinand lowered his head. “Exactly,” he said. “I’d rather order them to flee if it came to that.

How did the militiamen do, by the way?”

“They played their part,” Kaleb admitted, “But without your soldiers to take the brunt of the attack they would have been slaughtered. The city would have already been overrun by the undead, no doubt about it.”

“Kaleb…”

“Yes, my lord?”

The Duke gave him a questioning gaze, “Why haven’t you left already?”

The rogue chuckled.

“Why?” Ferdinand asked, “There is nothing holding you back? Why risk your life for me?”

“Well…” The cheeky grin on Kaleb’s face only made his sharp facial features stand out that much more menacingly. He truly looked the part of a dead man. “You could say that I came for the pay, but I stayed for the adventure.”

“Adventure…” Ferdinand muttered.

“I love excitement,” the rogue explained. “And this whole Rotwald mess – it has been a lot of fun for me. It makes me feel alive.”

“I wish I could share in your optimism,” The Duke said. He gripped the edge of the parapet, “By the Gods, I would love to trade places with you. I could roam the world, be free of my duties as a ruler…”

“Yeah,” Kaleb admitted, “It is fun to do what I do.”

A moment of silence was enjoyed by the two of them. What was left of the undead horde after the Duke’s failed assault was gathering between the cemetery and the city. The shambling corpses looked to be preparing for the next wave of attack. This time they were sure to reach the city walls, where the defenders were going to make their final stand. Even if they could retreat to the keep deeper inside, the loss of the city would lead to a protracted siege and a political defeat for the Duke.

Kaleb gestured at the staircase behind them, “Shall we? Your men are awaiting your orders.”

Ferdinand took a deep breath and pushed himself away from the parapets. “Let’s go and get this this siege defense organized.”