Rise of the Dead Prince (19 page)

“Twist ’im, bahy! That’s th’way t’get’th’jab done!” said Quickspear, rooting the boy on. With a grunt and a twist, the spine broke with a crack, and the skeleton fell into a limp pile on the floor. The skirmishers all raised their spears and let out a cheer for the lad. His face flushed with embarrassed pride. Quickspear turned to face the rest of the crowd with his arm ra
ised.

“Cheer far th’bahy!” he commanded them, and oddly enough, they obeyed. Quickspear had a certain manner about him, a sort of contagious enthusiasm, that made people join him despite the fact that many of them did not really like him. The skirmishers all loved him, however, and this was because they had seen him f
ight.

Ian stood up, smiling, and raised his arm to the boy as well. More than this, he raised his arm to Quickspear. The men in this room needed to know what the city was facing, and Quickspear had done exactly that. When the time came, this brash man would lead the front line. He would also be the best one to prepare the militia as the hours to the battle dwindled. Behren, meanwhile, would manage the whole battle from atop the outer parapet. If and when the defenses broke, he and the honor guard would swarm into the fray and deal with stragglers to remake the perimeter. For the time being, the most urgent matter was to quickly scour the castle for more weapons that were better suited to fighting the “boneys,” as they had quickly become known, thanks in no small part to Quickspear’s appellation. As for his endorsement of the “farked” spears, these were distributed among the front line, but most especially to the militia. Aside from this, Quickspear had also stressed the use of shovels and “pitchfarks,” and soon almost everyone was using a practical we
apon.

As the sun began to set on Targov, Behren ordered the lighting of the bonfires along the perimeter. The skirmishers confirmed that the mob would be there in under an hour. The bonewalkers ambled along in a mass, without any real organization save their unified direction. Behren, Quickspear, and Ian agreed that this much could play to their advantage. The skirmishers also noted another strange thing they had seen. There seemed to be a sizable trail of broken skeletons trailing along for miles behind the mob like a white tail. Quickspear asked who had been left behind, but his captains all reported that everyone was accounted for and ready to hold the front line. The answer was clear. Some unincorporated posse was picking off the stragglers of the mob, and whoever they were, they had made a nice dent in the enemy group. Apparently, only one sharp-eyed man among the skirmishers had seen anything at all, but what he said made little sense. It was there one second and gone the next, he said, far into the distance. When asked again, he said that he wasn’t sure, but it certainly had
looked
to him like a small woman on a large black h
orse.

26
The Second Battle for Targov

I
t was the sound of the mob that made the situation real to those who had been dreaming. The clicking and clacking of bone on bone, matched with the raspy hiss of three thousand animated skulls, had sent a shiver through the people of Targov that shook their resolve. Quickspear took note of the wavering morale and began to cheer the people on, patting backs and dealing out courage like a deck of cards. Behren from high on the battlement, seeing the situation and hearing the murmurs, shouted in his booming voice to all the crowd. A hush went over all of them, and every head turned to face the shining figure a
bove.

“Hear me, sons and daughters of Targov! The dead are at the door! It is an army sent for one purpose alone, and that purpose is clear to everyone gathered in arms this night! They mean to wipe out the heart of Valahia, and that is here in Targov! They know that we are weakened by the plague, and so to them, we are easy prey! They see farmers, huntsmen, woodcutters, blacksmiths, men and women, boys and girls, and they know that we must surely flee before them! They mean to take Targov, and they mean to send us all to join the dead! One thing keeps them at bay! One thing holds them from their purpose! It is the
ONE
thing that they did not account for! And
THAT THING IS
US
!
WE
, the proud sons and daughters of Targov,
WE
, the heart of Valahia,
WE
, the survivors of the plague, and
WE
are the ones who
WILL SEND THEM BACK TO THE GRAVE
!
WE
, and we alone, will prevail this night! For our sons! For our daughters! For our futures! For our very lives!
FOR TARGOV! FOR VALAHIA!
FOR VAL
AHIA!
”

An explosive cry went out among the soldiers and militia! Three thousand voices in unison drowned out the clicks and hisses of the approaching dead. “
FOR VALAHIA
!” they cried out as one. They were as ready as they would ever be; and that same minute, the gates opened, and a single rider came forward, dressed in golden mail, with a golden crown on his head. He wore the red sash of a skirmisher, and he carried the spear and bow of his former office. At his side was a huge quiver, stuffed to the breaking point. From his hips hung his famous twin blades, polished to a high shine. The very sight of him gave the people yet another boost to their already heightened morale. It was as Ian made his way to the front that the first wave of dead began to charge. Ian thrust his spear into the ground and readied his bow. He drew an arrow from the giant quiver, but it was not just any arrow, for it had wide blades on it that were rifled into a spiral. The second the first skeleton ambled around the bonfire and into view, Ian drew and fired like a bolt. A piercing whistle rang out, and the bonewalker fell to pieces, cleanly cut in half above the hip. The front line cheered for their king and steeled themselves for the coming wave. Again, Ian fired, and again, and again; and each time, another skeleton fell to pieces at the end of each whi
stle.

“Save sam’ fer’th rest of us, Ian!” yelled Quicksilver above the din. Ian just smiled and fired another two arrows in quick succes
sion.

The first wave, if it could be called that with such a dense crowd, hit the barriers like a crest of water. The bones crashed against the wood, and many were impaled or smashed there like fodder against the weight of those that followed. It was when the crowd grew so dense against the barricades that the others began to climb over their brethren like a ladder! The fighting started in earnest. Quickspear flew into a frenzy. Using only his single-pointed spear, he attacked with pinpoint accuracy and made a pile of ten skeletons in as many seconds. His spear was fluid like water, circling tightly to stab, swooping in smooth arcs to slice, flying up and over his shoulder and around his neck to return to center. There was a peaceful smile on his face, and his eyes were half closed, as one slowly waking. Quickspear had only begun to warm up. It was a sort of ritual, mesmerizing to behold. Many of the more skilled skirmishers were using single-pointed spears as well, though not a one among them did so much as Quickspear. As his blood heated, the spear master finally cheered and began to yell unintelligibly as he worked. His eyes were open at last, and the difference was threefold. Those around him were carried along with him and became at least twice as effective as a result. His power was such that it seemed to leak from him and find its way to others. The less trained among them used the dingy forked spears that had been scavenged from all over the castle, and these proved to be quite effective as well. The front line was holding! It was after several hundred bonewalkers had been put down that Behren got his first nasty surprise. The southern defenses were holding, leaving the eastern and western sides idle. So far, it had been exactly as they hoped, that the dead would not have any semblance of strategy in the attack and therefore would attack only the south
side.

This was suddenly proven to be untrue. Much like a wave crashes on a rock and then scatters forward to either side, so did the skeletal army swarm to the sides and around to crash into the barricades there on the east and west. Still, there were militia men and women there, and they were ready for the attack. With pitchforks, forked spears, shovels, axes, and stake mallets they battled and held their own. As with the south, the eastern and western barricades had been jammed to capacity with bonewalkers, and like ants from a mound, they began to climb over each other and attack in earnest. Despite the bravery of the militia, the skeletons began to overwhelm them. While the soldiers were trained for such changes, the militia was not. The bonewalkers began to inflict significant losses to the east and west, and then quite suddenly, they broke through and into the town center itself! Behren shouted out orders to the reserves at the gate to move forward and attack and retake the perimeter. The din was such that he found that even
his
booming voice was being drowned
out.

People began dying by the dozen on these broken fronts. Behren watched on from his appointed position at the carnage below, and in one instantaneous revelation, he could bear it no longer. The aging soldier drew his sword, and his eyes trained on a young man and woman fighting back to back. The stairs were too slow. They would be overtaken in seconds. As he watched on, the young man was suddenly stabbed through his shoulder, crippling his defense. Behren acted decisi
vely.

With a series of lightning-fast gestures, he cast off his shiny breastplate and looked down. It was a long way, but he didn’t care. He leapt over the parapet and slid down the banner to slow his descent, ripping it as he went. He hit the ground like a rolling ball and jumped up quickly. He was dazed, but no worse for the
wear.

“I
will
get there in time!” he goaded himself. In three long strides, Behren reached the young couple. Remembering his words to the king regarding the limited use of swords, he scoffed. “I
will
cut them!” He charged forward, and with a single massive horizontal hack from his heavy sword, he felled the two bonewalkers in front of him. “I
will
stop them!” He then strafed to one side and repeated the performance, with a spinning slash that devastated another two. The final skeleton cha
rged.

“You
will
not touch them!” yelled Behren, and with a heavy diagonal slash, he cut through the thing from collarbone to the opposite hip. With that final gesture, the couple had been saved from the enemies that surrounded them. They looked at him with eyes filled with both panic and gratitude. “Look to your lives! Take them one by one next time! Ha, ha!” he yelled, and then he was off to hold the line with the remaining militia. There were many more in need of such her
oics.

Behren started with the weakest side, the east, and began to rally the people into tight groups. After all, it was the people that the dead wanted to exterminate, not the town. There was no need to guard anything but the lives of their comrades and themselves. Meanwhile, the front line on the south had its hands full. They had taken some losses, but not nearly as many as they had inflicted. Ian’s quiver was growing light, and as far as he knew, he hadn’t missed yet. The problem was that they were falling back for no other reason than the fact that the littered bones had grown so deep that no one could fight on that ground anymore. Quickspear had changed positions three times, always taking the lion’s share of the troubles as he did. The men who witnessed his feats found themselves filled with new drive. One thing in particular had the men believing he was invinc
ible.

While sprinting sidelong across the front line, two of the bonewalkers piled onto him like wolves on a deer. It was a sight that
always
meant the death of a man. Those looking on cried out and moved to aid him, but there was no need. Quickspear reached up and over his head, and grabbing the ribcage of the top assailant, he thrashed around in a wild circle, using the one to beat the other until it fell off. Then with a yell, he gripped the spine with both hands and, with a herculean twist, snapped it with a hideous crunch. Having dropped his spear, he charged the other one as it rose. Quickspear then snatched it up into the air with both hands and yelled, “Down wit’ ya!” before cracking the spine across his knee like kindling. He then laughed and picked up his spear before sprinting to the nearest gap in defense. The line tightened and took a step closer to the fray. Quickspear had set them on
fire.

The west side was getting the worst of it, now that Behren had given his attention to the east. For the time being, the tired captain had his hands full. There seemed to be no end to them. Besides this, the dead that trickled through the western barricades were beginning to flank those fighting the other lines! If not seen to, it would spell disaster for those whose attentions were aimed ahead of them. It was just as the western force was beginning to rout that it happened. By the light of the bonfire, a streak of black appeared in the
west!

It crashed through the swarming forces with impunity and with a massive leap was suddenly on the other side of the barricade. Atop the stallion sat a determined-looking girl with a pitchfork. Allie and Dias had joined the defense, and not a moment too soon. Those bonewalkers that were not trampled by Dias were scooped from one side and dashed in to heaps on the other. Allie found herself quickly surrounded, and as the dwindling defenses looked on in fear, she yelled to both friend and foe alike, “
COME ON
!” Horse and rider became a dervish of flying hooves and expert pitchfork jabs. Dias reared and then pounded the bonewalkers in front of him to meal. He was so fast and sleek in his movements that they never laid a bony finger on him. Horse and rider were in tune with each other so much that they were like a single deadly creature. Allie had lifted and dashed no less then twelve bonewalkers before the west started to rally and remake the wall. All stayed a safe distance away from her. As for Dias, they had watched on as he kicked and crushed twenty at least, and he had not even begun to
tire.

Toward the uncertain center, the chaos was greatest. The honor guard did a fantastic job of cleaning up the stragglers as the perimeter was slowly tightened and remade. The field was so littered with bones by then that the barricades were yards away from the nearest fighter. The wall was made solely of people. After what seemed like an eternity, the perimeter of fighters became a circle. The southern force was still strong, and the cries of Quickspear could be heard clearly to the east and west by
then.

“Give ’em what far!” he yelled as Behren listene
d on.

“Down with the dead!” he answ
ered.

Allie, skirting the outside still, screamed, “
YAAAAA
!” in a shrill and terrifying way. She continued to fight like a woman possessed. Dias was much the same. He burned through the dead like a black flame. It was such that when he snorted, people swore that they saw s
moke.

Ian turned to face the sound; and with eyes wide, he quietly said, “Allie?” as he realized what he was se
eing.

The battle raged on for another exhausting fifteen minutes. The bulk of the defending force was alive and fighting. The wounded had piled into the middle where Ian sat, firing his last arrow. The dead had only a few trickling soldiers left, and these were mainly those that had been tangled into the barricades but not quite crushed by them. All grew silent, and a quick scout of the area revealed the best possible news. No more were co
ming.

Targov had been saved! When the last of the grunt work had been done, Ian raised his spear and cheered loudly. Quickspear and Behren came to stand by his side, and the crowd of defenders went wild with cheers and belated battle cries. All but one. Ian looked across the bone yard that had once been the marketplace and saw her hunched over in her saddle, doing something intently that he could not see. With great difficulty, he made his way through the crowd and approached her. Many people threw cheers her way, especially those who had fought the west wall; but none dared to approach Dias, so foreboding was his appear
ance.

“Allie?” he said simply and approached within arm’s reach of Dias. Unlike the others, he had no fear of the great animal. Dias snorted a warning, but Allie shushed him gently and gave a pat to his neck. She looked at Ian for a split second before returning to her
work.

“Hello, King Ian,” she said casually. Ian smiled at her quiescent air. Allie seemed wholly disinterested with her surroundings and completely unaffected by the ba
ttle.

“I saw you fighting,” he said happily, “and you are a true hero of Valahia! You two are incredible! Please sit by my side at banquet with the other heroes of this day!” He was still in disbelief of what he had seen he
r do.