Of course, given how I portrayed him, it's possible that even the
Guild wanted to get rid of Attius. Although it would have been fun to see him and Dar interact.
I will go into more detail on the Guild of Sorcery and why we have such a dearth of talented arcanists in Camar somewhat later in the story.
Oh, and in case you thought things couldn't possibly get worse for the Fifte...ah, Eleven:
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Chapter 126
THE BLOOD OF THE LIVING
With each passing second, the situation was growing increasingly dire for the defenders at Alderford. Huge numbers of undead had been destroyed already, but the undead could afford to trade many for every one of the foe they killed. Four of the fifteen from Camar were already dead, and several others tottered on the precipice of oblivion.
Varo walked forward, the two shadows that he had made captive to his will trailing behind him. He presented his sigil again, sending out another pulse of negative energy through the undead that were mobbing Serah. The three shadows reluctantly drew back from their victim, who lay there in the lee of the cottage where she’d fallen, her eyes glassy, unable to move, but still barely clinging to life. Varo ignored her, instead focusing on the two shadows he now controlled. He gave them a mental command, and the undead rose into the air, where they were swallowed up by the night in just a few seconds.
Shay heard Allera’s gasp, and saw the wraiths coming out of the cottage from the corner of her eye. But she had to deal with the oncoming shadows, and had to trust that Allera could take care of herself, at least for a few seconds.
The shadows flew straight toward her. She held her position until the last possible instant, then pivoted into a perfect upward slash that clove through the first shadow.
Beatus Incedia flared, and the shadow dissolved into nothing. The second shadow lunged at her, but she snapped her upper body back, and its claws passed through empty air. She thrust the sword up through it, but this time the holy weapon failed to penetrate its incorporeal substance. She felt a sudden chill in her side as the third shadow brushed her skin, and she was forced to dodge back, narrowly avoiding the last. She’d gotten lucky in that first exchange, but she knew that she could not evade them forever, especially if her counterattacks were ineffective half of the time.
Meanwhile, she knew that Allera was fighting for her life behind her. But as the three remaining shadows formed up and came at her again, she couldn’t even spare a glance back, and could only hope that Talen and the healer were still alive.
Allera abandoned her initial plan to
restore Talen, offering a silent prayer that her
sanctuary would continue to hold. She leapt up to confront the wraiths, her fists balling, determination flaring in her eyes, that these dark things would get to her charge only over her dead body.
The wraiths came forward, eager to comply with that condition.
The healer lunged forward as the first wraith came within reach. Blue energies flared from her fist as she thrust it into the wraith’s body. She cried out as the icy chill of its touch spread into her, but the wraith in turn suffered greatly from her
cure critical wounds spell. Disrupted, it reached out to touch her, to steal back some of what it had lost.
A shimmer in the air was the only warning it got, before another surge of healing energy tore through it. Snaggletooth, still invisible, veered off, as the wraith came apart and dissolved into nothing.
The other two pressed the attack. Allera was hit by both, and only by summoning every last vestige of her strength did she resist having her life energy drained fully out of her body. But she still felt weakened, and knew that another assault would likely finish her.
The armsmen and knights were having just as much trouble on their side of the battle. Fighting furiously, the three veterans of the Guard had held the barricade, inflicting serious damage on the troll skeleton. But all three now bore serious wounds, and at least a dozen man-sized skeletons were pushing at the barricade, tearing at them with claws and weapons and forcing them to break off their attack to defend the line. The troll skeleton used its long reach to swipe over the smaller ones, tearing at the armsmen with its claws. It was obvious that they could not hold out for long.
On the other end of the barricade, Medelia could not get to them, standing alone against the damaged ogre skeleton and another half-dozen man-sized undead. She focused on the skeletons attacking Galen, smashing them off him with blows from her mace. The helpless knight was seriously injured, his eyes wide with fear and pain, but as he stared at Medelia as her mace wove a deadly arc before her, it was clear that he was silently urging her to retreat.
But Medelia held her ground, even as the hulking ogre skeleton loomed up over her. The knight brought her shield up, taking a blow from its fist that staggered her even through the heavy steel. She let out a guttural cry as she drove forward, smashing the shield like a club into its body. The ogre skeleton, already seriously damaged, began to come apart as it fell back over the barricade, crushing one of its smaller companions. But yet more skeletons were clambering over the low barrier.
The young knight lifted her mace to face them, but before she could engage the foe, a stream of liquid energy streaked out of the night, from the hands of a shadowy form standing almost invisible at the edge of the torchlight. The dark figure had come from the woods, unnoticed in the chaos of the battle, accompanied by a larger companion that hovered protectively behind it. The twisting tendrils of raw power blasted into the knight’s chest, drawing an agonized scream from her that died before it could fully form. As Medelia was flung back, the bolt rebounded, arcing back into the air, twisting as if alive, before slamming back down into the back of Septimus’s head.
The armsman never got a chance to scream, as his head exploded.
The bolt kept going, clipping Octavius. The armsman’s right shoulder was seared as the energy tore through his limb, knifing through the steel links of his mail, and laying open the flesh beneath down to the bone. He fell back, his mace clattering from his hand as he fell to the ground, clutching the wound in a paroxysm of agony.
The blast had been devastating, and left only Sextus holding the barricade, as the skeletons surged forward again.