The Shrine of Kallen (The Tales of Zanoth Book 3) Read online

  “What's happening?” Alena asked.

  “Well...” Paul began, before an arrow struck their side of the wall, just inches from his head. The party instantly turned their eyes toward the keep. In the light of the rising moons, they could just make out roughly ten creatures with jet black skin and glowing blue eyes. Each of these beasts had a bow in their hands and seemed to be shooting at random targets within the stronghold. While they were thus occupied, a number of others were climbing down the walls and making their way into the keep through the windows on the top floor.

  “Those are scralee,” Alena pointed out.

  “So much I gathered,” Paul replied, raising his shield and blocking another arrow. “We need to destroy them.”

  “You clear out the keep,” Nyssa said, leaping into the air with a smile. “Leave the ones on the roof to me.”

  Having said this, she shot in the direction of their bow-wielding enemies before vanishing from sight. Without pause, the rest of the party began scrambling toward the entrance to the keep.

  “I have got to learn to fly!” Joey asserted.

  “Sounds like a good idea,” Paul replied, leaping in front of Myra to stop another deadly shaft.

  “She might need our help!”

  “She might...”

  “Go on without me!” Joey demanded, coming to a complete standstill in the courtyard. “I can't let her face those things on her own.”

  Having made this assertion, the young man began chanting one of the spells he'd managed to memorize. As he was doing this, Nyssa appeared behind one of the scralee who was carefully taking aim at the chanting wizard. Fire flew from her tiny fingertips, quickly bringing the unlife of the monster to an end. This action attracted the notice of its companions and they all turned their attention to the fluttering fairy.

  Before they had time to attack, three balls of arcane power shot from Joey's outstretched hand. Whether or not this would have been enough to kill the creature they struck is hard to say. It was standing on the very edge of the roof when it was hit, however. As a result, when the assault caused it to lose its footing, it fell to its death.

  “The rest of you, go!” Alena shouted. “I'll stay with him and try to make sure he doesn't get himself killed!”

  The remaining members of the party didn't pause to think, but continued making their way toward the keep. Already, the sounds of battle could be heard within. The general had ordered a handful of men to hold it; just in case the undead found some way inside. However, the defenders were far too few to face the horde of scralee that were currently overwhelming them.

  Paul and his companions burst through the doors and flew up the stairs. On the second floor, they found Gregory. He was bleeding profusely from his shield arm and doing his best to beat back five of the creatures. Two of his men were still on their feet – surrounded by enemies – while three others lay on the floor; dead or dying. The four friends instantly rushed to the aid of their allies.

  Several of the monsters turned their attention to the paladin; lashing out at him with their talon covered hands. Never in their unholy lives had they faced such a foe. If they had, they would have known to flee and not to fight. As the young man blocked their blows with his blade, their hands burst into golden flames. With a number of well-aimed slashes and sword-thrusts, he quickly brought their undead lives to an end. This done, he glanced around him to find that his companions had made equally short work of the foes they had faced.

  He took time enough to heal Gregory and those of his men who still lived, before leading the entire band up the stairs. Although they encountered nearly forty more of the monsters before they had completely emptied the structure of enemies; the scralee proved no match for the it and the warriors who fought alongside him.

  As they paused for breath, having achieved their immediate end, a sound echoed off the walls. It was the ringing of a battering ram on the base of the drawbridge. They rushed back down the stairs and out of the keep. There, they found Alena, Nyssa, and Joey standing together; staring at the ringing portal.

  “Do you think they can get through?” Paul asked between panted breaths.

  “They think they can,” Alena pointed out.

  “I suppose that's true,” he chuckled. “We'd better start trying to barricade...”

  The paladin paused, his attention attracted by a shadow moving quickly across the cobblestones. He glanced up to see what appeared to be an armor-covered knight, riding on the back of a fleshless horse, born aloft by a pair of large, black, bat-like wings. As bad as this seemed, what was far worse was the fact that he wasn't alone. Ten of these horrors were quickly descending toward the center of the courtyard.

  “What are those?!” Paul exclaimed.

  “Some of Grathis's skeletal knights,” Myra answered.

  “Obviously,” he nodded. “I mean: What are the things they're riding on?”

  “Horse skeletons,” Nyssa replied. “Can't you tell? I guess it's hard without their skin on. Still, to me, at least...”

  “Horses don't have wings,” the paladin interjected.

  “It's magic,” Myra explained. “It's the result of a spell and it's only temporary.”

  “How long does it last?” Joey asked.

  “Long enough to get them over the walls,” she replied.

  As she made this observation, the first of the aberrations touched the ground. As it did so, its hooves burst into golden flames, causing it to rear back and nearly cast its rider from the saddle. The undead knight was a skilled horseman, however, and quickly regained control of the beast before charging into the nearby ranks of his enemies.

  His allies joined this assault moments later, while the sound of the ram slamming into the drawbridge filled the air with its din. The defenders did their best to face this onslaught, but they were clearly outmatched. Not only were the fleshless knights powerful and skilled, they were also mounted.

  The general had reserved the few bottles of holy water he had in case of dire need. As his men faced these foes, he decided that the time had come to use them. Although the monsters screamed in pain as the bottles shattered against their armor, covering them in liquid capable of dissolving their undead bodies like acid, it did little to deter them.

  Seeing this, the paladin and his companions rushed to the aid of the Warriors, hoping to quickly turn the tide of the skirmish.

  “You might want to turn these things,” Darek suggested as the distance closed between them and their enemies.

  “I'm saving that in case we run into something special,” Paul explained.

  “This strikes me as special,” Darek asserted, before flying at the nearest of their foes and screaming out a war cry as he did so.

  Paul selected the largest of the monsters and charged at the back of his mount. Before he managed to reach the embattled knight, however, the horror struck down three of the foes he faced; cutting through shield, sword, and armor alike. It was blindingly obvious that this creature bore no ordinary blade. The instant the paladin reached his enemy, he slashed through the backbone of his horse, right behind the saddle – cutting the skeletal creature neatly in two.

  The knight tumbled to the ground, golden flames enveloping horse and rider alike. With a cry of rage, the creature dragged itself to its feet as Paul lashed out at it time and time again. Its armor was well made, and the gods of darkness may well have been watching over it, as none of the paladin's many attacks seemed to do more than anger the abomination.

  The creature flew at Paul in a fury. Blow after blow was blocked by the paladin, but his limbs throbbed with pain under the force of these attacks. The young man asked for the strength to overcome this foe – as the book had suggested he do in times of need – and, immediately, he felt the divine power flowing through him. He counterattacked with devastating power; driving the knight back step by step as the sound of his assaults blended with the noise of the ram.

  With incredible skill, the undead knight feigned an attack – causi
ng the paladin to raise his shield – before lashing out at Paul's legs. His enemy's sword bit through his armor and into his flesh before knocking him the ground. The young man instantly rolled over and looked up to see the monster raising its sword above its head for a death blow.

  “Die!” Myra cried above the din, bolts of dark power shooting from her staff.

  The creature bellowed in agony, before dropping its sword on its prostrate foe. Fortunately, the former lich had given Paul just enough time to get his shield into position before this happened. Unfortunately, the sword of his foe managed to cut through this tool of defense. It did, however, unquestionably save its wielder's life. This chain of events gave Paul a moment to consider what Darek had said. In retrospect, it was clear that these things were something special, after all. That being the case, there was only one thing to do.

  “Drop dead!” the young man screamed, raising his holy symbol in his shield hand as he did so.

  This was only the second time Paul had turned on sanctified ground. As he watched the wave of golden light emanating from his holy symbol completely envelope and instantly burn to ash all ten of the knights and what remained of their mounts (leaving nothing behind but their smoking equipment), he couldn't help but smile. In his opinion, that was what a turn was supposed to be like.

  As he climbed to his feet with a contented chuckle, something happened that wiped the smile from his face. The battering ram finally managed to rip its way through the drawbridge. As the young man stared on in disbelief, a massive pair of hands reached through the breach, grabbing the edges of the torn metal, and ripping an opening large enough for undead to begin rushing through. Which they immediately did.

  The moment the hole was large enough, a zombie that was roughly nine feet tall – and probably weighed close to a thousand pounds – stepped through it. This creature pushed through the sea of undead filling the short distance between the drawbridge and the portcullis. It grabbed this steel grate as soon as it reached it and lifted it above its head.

  Skeletons and zombies poured into the courtyard. These foes, however, were something the Warriors were accustomed to facing. A massive melee instantly broke out as the living and the dead fell together in wrath and rage. Paul was confident that he could burn these enemies to death, but felt it would be wiser to save his strength. Already, he could feel the divine power burning in his veins. He would be able to do more but, not much more.

  He rushed into the fray with a cry, ignoring the pain in his leg. Although he could heal himself, others were likely to need it far more than he did before the night was over. As he hacked his way effortlessly through a throng of skeletons, the giant stepped through the gateway and waded into battle. A pack of reapers followed on its heels; prepared to slaughter any enemy it overlooked or ignored.

  As Paul considered how much damage it could do, he decided he had better stop it before it got started. For one thing, he felt fairly confident that the undead only had one giant with them. He couldn't imagine them holding one in reserve. He also decided to get as close as he could before he turned. He had no idea how resistant the massive monster might be to turns and felt like he only had one left in him. So, he planned to make it count.

  He cut down one reaper after another as he made his way toward the giant. When he finally felt like he was as close as he could safely get, he raised his holy symbol in his shield hand.

  “Drop...” he began.

  He didn't get any further. Apparently, the giant had seen him out of the corner of his eye and decided he was a danger. The moment he was in range – although he didn't realize he was – the monster stepped in his direction and back slapped him into the nearest wall; which was quite a few feet away. The paladin crawled to his feet, almost certain that his ribs were broken, and terrified to think what that beast was going to do to his allies.

  However, as he gazed over the scene, he saw Joey reading from his book, his staff pointed at the oncoming giant and the pack of reapers surrounding him. As the red-robed wizard brought his spell to an end, lighting shot from his staff; striking the massive monster in the chest before arching through the crowd of nearby undead. Joey screamed in agony as the blue fire flew from his body – which, incidentally, was enough to cause the giant's rank hair to burst into flames – before collapsing on the ground unconscious.

  Although this brought the unlife of the giant and nearly twenty of his companions to an end, it didn't stop the flow of undead through the open portal. Countless zombies, skeletons, reapers, and scralee rushed in on the defenders. This fact made Paul glad the giant had stopped him from turning just moments before.

  “Drop dead!” he cried, burning every single abomination within the bounds of Kal Tammon instantly to dust.

  Chapter 3: Bring 'em Back Alive

  “Get that portcullis back down, Gregory!” the general cried as the last of the undead filling the courtyard burned away to glittering dust. “Find a way to keep it down, too.”

  “Yes, sir,” the captain replied, barking orders at his men in turn.

  While this was being attended to, Paul rushed to Joey's side; doing his best to ignore the pain in his leg, his ribs, his head, and other miscellaneous parts of his body. Alena rolled the wizard over on his back just as the paladin arrived. He was still breathing, but completely unconscious.

  “You have to heal him!” Nyssa exclaimed. “He's my best friend!”

  “He is?” Paul asked, grimacing as he knelt down to inspect his friend.

  “For the day,” the beautiful fairy explained. “Don't you remember?”

  “I do,” the young man chuckled, gently slapping Joey's face. “I just thought, since the sun had gone down...”

  “Oh, no!” she interrupted. “I actually meant: for the next twenty-four hours. Either way, you have to heal him.”

  “Do you think you could handle it?” the paladin asked, gazing up at her with a weary smile.

  “I think Joey's thoughtlessness must be rubbing off on you!” she replied, tilting her head to the side and putting her hands on her hips. “I'm exhausted! I feel like I'm burning alive already and we may have more undead to fight tonight. Have you not taken any notice of how much I've done?”

  “I have,” Paul nodded. “And, I appreciate it. It's just that I'm a tad tired, as...”

  “Of course, you are!” she interrupted before shaking her head disapprovingly. “How thoughtless of me! Joey must be rubbing off on me, as well.”

  “I don't think he's in any immediate danger,” Myra observed, gazing down at the unconscious young man. “His breathing's regular and his color's good. I'm fairly certain he'll be fine in a day or two. That can't be said for all of our allies, though. If either of you have any strength left, you should probably offer it to those who won't be able to survive without it.”

  “Or save it for the next wave,” Darek observed, carefully stretching out his left arm. “We've done some real damage to them, but we may have more to do before the sun comes up.”

  “What little I can do,” Paul said, rising as he spoke, “I'm going to do for the dying.”

  “Me, as well,” Nyssa nodded, smiling at the young man before glancing around at all her companions. “If Joey asks, though, you all have to remember that I would have healed him first had he actually needed it. After all, he is my best friend.”

  “For the day,” Darek chuckled.

  “Exactly!” the fairy exclaimed.

  Having decided to pour out the last of their energies on the wounded, both Nyssa and Paul did what they could to pull as many of their allies back from the brink of the grave as possible. In spite of their best efforts, however, nearly a hundred of the Warriors had fallen to rise no more. By the time they were finished, both were too woozy to stand – or to fly. They sat down together in a corner of the courtyard; completely worn out.

  In the meantime, their allies had been equally busy. Gregory oversaw the kindling of another bonfire in the very entrance of the castle. Sarrac and Alena b
egan carrying the wounded (including Joey) into the safety of the fortress. Darek took charge of a horse and wagon and, along with several volunteers, he started loading their dead onto it. General Halfar ordered the dead to be temporarily placed in the barracks beneath the walls of the fortress. Myra returned to the walls to keep an eye on the undead that were hidden in the darkness.

  Just minutes after Paul and Nyssa had completed their task, their companions rejoined them.

  “I don't like this calm,” Darek said, lowering himself onto the cobbles. “I wish they'd just get on with their next attack. What are they waiting on?”

  “They may not be waiting for anything,” Myra said, shaking her head as she took up a seat by Paul's side. “As far as I can tell, they've called their forces back to camp.”

  “Why would they do that?” Darek asked. “They've just about worn us down.”

  “The gods are with us,” Sarrac replied with a smile. “On top of which, our enemies have no way of knowing that Paul can't spend the entire night turning them. If I had to guess, I'd say that what he was able to do came as a bit of a shock to them.”

  “I'm sure it did,” Darek ceded. “After all, it came as a shock to me. Those were definitely your best turns ever, Paul.”

  “Second best,” Nyssa pointed out. “His first turn destroyed an entire mountain full of undead.”

  “We can't be sure of that,” Alena smiled. “We didn't search the entire mountain.”

  “I suppose that's true,” the fairy admitted. “Still, he destroyed undead as far as the eye could see. Which is good, because that sounds even better.”

  “I guess it does,” Darek chuckled. “However you look at it, what Paul did was remarkable. Most of his turns haven't been anywhere near that powerful. He's obviously getting better at it.”