Terry W. Ervin Read online

  There were so many zombies, more than the other nights and fewer of us. Running from them felt like the right thing to do. We’d be ordered to turn and fight soon enough and instinct cried out for me to keep running when that happened.

  I wouldn’t flee the battle. I’d stand with Guzzy and face the enemy once again.

  “With me, men!” the captain shouted. “Toward the fire.” He pointed with his sword. “Cross the ravine and make our stand.”

  The wizard, along with the soldiers who’d stayed behind, had a large fire blazing. Embers swirled around the flames and rose into the hickory branches above. The zombie horde had fallen fifty yards behind, but hadn’t stopped.

  Chapter 2

  Southwestern United States

  2,873 Years before the Reign of King Tobias of Keesee

  “Dr. Johnston, are all preparations complete? Do all systems check?”

  Dr. Simeon Johnston double checked several screens, and observed the nods of his lab assistants. “They are, Dr. Mindebee. We are ready to proceed.”

  “Excellent,” said Dr. Mindebee, struggling not to rub his hands together in anticipation. “Initiate primary sequence.”

  Several assistants sprang into action, tapping away at their console keyboards.

  Dr. Johnston wandered across the lab, examining screen readouts. “Primary sequence initiated,” he said. “All readings are stable and within normal range. Magnetic containment field approaching full strength.”

  Dr. Mindebee double checked the primary and backup recording systems. He smiled. “Warm up the laser. Prepare to bombard the plasma with alpha, beta and gamma rays.” He gave a thumbs-up to the military observer.

  The Lt. Colonel acknowledged and, over a secured line, informed the Pentagon, “Operation Alice in Wonderland is a go.”

  One of the assistants leaned to his partner. “Draws on three nuke power plants. Wonder if it’ll dim the lights in Las Vegas?”

  “They stopped chasing us,” I said. Guzzy and Road Toad stood on either side of me and stared across the gully at the mass of undead bodies holding at the outer reaches of the bonfire’s flickering glow.

  Guzzy nodded. “This ain’t good.” He slid up his helmet and wiped a sleeve across his sweating brow. “Mindless zombies shouldn’t have stopped.”

  “You’re right,” said Road Toad. “There’s some souled zombies among them. Maybe even a necromancer of some skill.” He nudged Guzzy. “That barrel you stumbled over crossing the stream. There’s a cord wrapped with vines leading from it past us, and toward the wizard.”

  “Oil?” I whispered. We stood ready in the center of the line with picket teams spread out to each side. I wondered if the wizard had hidden an oil-filled barrel in front of each picket.

  “Been nice if they’d mentioned it to us,” grumbled Guzzy.

  “Wish I still had my father’s crossbow,” I said, again watching the enemy.

  “I’d rather tangle with that mess of undead than with your ol’ pappy,” said Guzzy. “Won’t matter to him that a zombie tore it from ya.”

  Road Toad stared into the darkness across the gully. “That bonfire’s showing us to the enemy too well,” he mumbled, interrupting my thoughts about my father. “Krish, you some sort of marksman?”

  “With a crossbow?” I asked, watching the captain send Vort and Darnard to reinforce the scouts on our right flank.

  “Best shot around Pine Ridge,” said Guzzy. “Except for Jotey.”

  “Got an idea,” Road Toad said. He backed off the line and approached our captain. After exchanging salutes, they conferred and Road Toad sprinted toward the reserve ranks.

  “Well,” said Guzzy, “that makes me feel better. Wonder what he’d have done if I told’em you fancied yourself a healer?”

  “Hush,” I said between clenched teeth. “They find out and you know where they’ll send me?” I shot my cousin a short, nasty stare. I wanted to look back and see where Road Toad had gone, but I was afraid of turning my back to the enemy.

  “Men,” shouted Captain Plarchett, “withdraw from the trench five paces.” When we had, the captain ordered, “Gray Mule Company move forward. Join Black Mule and reinforce the line.”

  When fresh militia troops formed up with us, Road Toad appeared among them. “Here, Krish,” he said handing me a crossbow already cocked and fitted with a long bolt. “Our wizard’s going to start some trouble.” He handed Guzzy a fresh javelin. “Sir Guz, help me spot the organizer behind their line. We’ll toss these, along with a few others behind us, and Krish, you be right on him.”

  I looked over the crossbow as best I could in the flaring firelight. It felt like oak, same as my father’s, but this one had an iron prod, whereas my father’s had been wooden. “I can’t be accurate first shot,” I said, wondering if Road Toad really expected his plan to succeed.

  A basket-sized, flaring ball of fire arced over our heads toward the enemy line, then burst. Seven fist-sized flaming balls dove like ospreys on fish. Seven zombies staggered forward as the flames burned into them.

  “There!” said Road Toad. “See?”

  A dark-robed man observed the burning zombies and motioned with a wave of his skull-tipped staff, summoning three hulking zombies to him.

  Guzzy grunted, “Right,” as I raised my crossbow and took aim, elevating for distance while estimating wind.

  As the necromancer strode further away, the three large zombies retreated with him, covering his back. I estimated lead as Guzzy and Road Toad hurled their javelins, along with a number of soldiers behind us. I exhaled and firmly compressed the trigger. The hail of seven javelins fell, taking down two of the three zombies. The third ran on for several steps before dropping.

  “Good shooting, Krish,” said Road Toad, patting me on the back.

  “I missed the necromancer,” I said, realizing I’d dropped the third zombie.

  “True,” laughed Road Toad, “but how often do you get to see a necromancer run? And, Sir Guz, I think you pierced one with your javelin.”

  Guzzy grinned from ear to ear. “He won’t be up near the front any time soon.” Then my cousin’s smile disappeared. “Here they come.”

  I slung the empty crossbow across my back and gripped my spear. Road Toad urged the fresh zombie picket team to our right to stand firm. Guzzy, to my left adjusted his shield, and warned, “They’ve got some awful big rocks.” About half the horde carried stones the size of watermelons.

  “Advance to the trench,” ordered the captain. “Javelin throwers, salt and target stone carriers.”

  The zombies had reached a shambling trot, even those hefting stones. The horde now numbered at least three-hundred. Silent, except for the slapping of feet in the damp ground, the horde spread out as it closed. Captain Plarchett ordered javelins thrown an instant before the zombies tossed. One nearby soldier fell, crushed by a hurled stone. With frightening ease the zombies scrambled down and in mass began climbing up the slick gully walls.

  I steadied myself for the rotting stench. My first spear thrust caught an animated corpse in the shoulder, knocking it back into three horde members below. Guzzy hacked the arm off one before kicking it in the chest, sending it tumbling back. It, like mine, would come at us again, but crippled with painful, salt-filled wounds.

  Road Toad’s sword flashed, severing the head of one foul-smelling corpse, and a second he smashed downward with his shield. Already, they’d dragged one of the picket team members to our right into the gully and began pummeling him to death. I tried to ignore his screams, thankful it wasn’t me and rammed my spear into the chest of a new opponent.

  It fell back in pain, but in less agony than the first. The salt on my spear tip was nearly spent. A fresh javelin wave flew overhead, answered by large stones and logs landing among our ranks.

  The sound of combat was all one-sided. The zombies fought in silence, except for the thuds their fists made when they connected with shields, armor, or a soldier’s flesh. The living, on the other hand, yelled
warnings, shouted in anger and frustration, or screamed in agonized terror.

  I’d crippled three more zombies while Guzzy chopped down four with his axe and Road Toad managed to dismember six. Few teams fought as well as us. Most struggled to simply keep the enemy at bay, forcing Captain Plarchett to order reserves into the line. Already the horde had dragged a third of Black and Gray Mule Company into its midst.

  Just as a second wave of zombies shambled into the gully, the sky flared overhead, and balls of flame darted into the oil-filled barrels. The streambed erupted in flame.

  Some smoldering and others in flame, the zombies still strove to reach us. One burning corpse emerged from the fire, and grabbed my spear’s shaft as I drove it back. I yanked it free; the grease had foiled its grip. I silently thanked Road Toad.

  A solid weight slammed into me from the side, knocking me to the ground. Guzzy quickly rolled off of me and away as a four-foot log tumbled past where I just stood. I didn’t give a second thought to the crossbow digging into my back. Road Toad stepped forward and cut down the burning spear grabber.

  Shrill death shrieks rose on our left. “Fall back,” called our captain. Guzzy and the other surviving picket leaders repeated the order. I followed Road Toad and Guzzy to rally near the bonfire. A distant glow added to the cries on the left, proclaiming the hordes were overrunning White Mule Company.

  Captain Plarchett waved his sword high. “Companies form up for quick march. Black Mule Company—” called the captain, but halted his command as, to the southwest, a bursting flare of green fire signaled in the sky high above the trees.

  “Gold or White Mule’s been overrun,” said Road Toad, “or retreating.”

  We reached the bonfire and the remnants of our company formed into paired lines as ordered. I didn’t want to count how few of us remained. Instead I stared toward the gully where the flames had begun to sputter and zombies, some battle damaged and others fully intact, emerged.

  Cradling a broken arm, Corporal Vort appeared from the darkened woods to the rear of our line of march. “Ogres!” he yelled, running. “They’re behind me.”

  A few of our number broke ranks and fled. Half the militia that remained looked about, considering it. I’d taken a step in retreat but, scared as I was, stopped and faced front. I couldn’t abandon Guzzy, Road Toad or our captain.

  Road Toad and a few other mercenaries turned to face the new menace. The closest I’d ever been to an ogre was an old dust-covered head mounted below the rafters in the cooper’s shop. That ogre head trophy was an undersized runt killed outside of Pine Ridge before I was born. Still, it was big as any bull’s head I’d ever seen.

  The captain called to the lesser wizard, “Do what you can to keep the zombies off of us, then lead the men to the bridge.” He hastily pointed to three mercenaries, including Road Toad. “With me.”

  Road Toad looked at Guzzy and me. “Come on, Krish and Guz. I think I see two ogres out there. Captain’ll need you.”

  I gulped and looked at Guzzy. We’d been trained to fight zombies, not ogres.

  Without hesitation Guzzy said, “Come on. Let’s help’em.” He tugged at my shoulder. “We came to fight.”

  Road Toad flashed us a grin. We trotted to catch up with the two mercenaries and Captain Plarchett as they strode the direction Vort had pointed.

  Seven soldiers hadn’t fled and stood ready as Lesser Wizard Morgan finished his spell. A thin wall of flames six feet high shot up, between us and the closing zombie horde. As the flame wall extended, the bonfire’s flames weakened. “With me, men,” shouted Morgan. “To the bridge.” They turned and ran. Rather than endure the flames, the zombie mass chased after them.

  A deep, guttural bellow shattered what had been a silent enemy assault. Two immense figures emerged from the depths of the trees. The ogres stood at least twelve feet tall, even hunched over. They were built like men but far more twisted and muscular. One wore tattered pelts draped over its body. The other, larger ogre wore thick hide boots, crude iron gauntlets, and a skirt built of rusted iron rings of a size that would fit around my wrist. Each carried a formidable spiked mace. The larger ogre clutched Darnard’s broken body in a rusted gauntlet.

  The captain stopped and yelled, “Goll statch!”

  The gauntleted ogre halted twenty feet away, puffed out its chest and grinned, showing jagged yellow teeth. Their color matched the single stubby horn that curled up from the flat, sloped forehead. The ogre smashed its mace against a tree, causing it to shudder. “Gaaff, da grull haw!”

  Road Toad led us in line, ten feet to the left of the captain, and commented, “Captain speaks the foul tongue,” before taking position with shield in hand and sword ready.

  One of the mercenaries stood, armed as Road Toad with sword and shield. The other carried a battle axe like Guzzy. I held my spear ready, struggling to keep the tip steady.

  “How do we fight these?” asked Guzzy, nervously running his hand along the haft of his axe.

  “Cripple them,” said Road Toad. “Then go for the kill. Avoid their attacks. Ogres are quicker than they look.”

  I re-examined the behemoths in what remained of the dying firelight. Their skin was mottled, cracked with patches peeling away. It looked tougher than hardened leather. Did Road Toad mean they were quicker than a man? Faster than me?

  Captain Plarchett yelled, “Goll grull haw awhk!”

  Road Toad let out a snorting laugh. “Our fair captain just insulted them.”

  With a roar the ogres charged. The one hurled Darnard’s body at the captain, forcing him to leap to the right.

  “Spread out,” warned Road Toad, as the smaller one stomped toward us.

  I threw my spear, punching through the ogre’s tattered hides and into its right shoulder. The behemoth didn’t even notice. I drew my sword and backpedaled as it charged, yellow eyes intent on me.

  Road Toad ducked under its mace as it stomped past him. Guzzy hewed at its thigh and found flesh, but not deep enough. It yanked my spear from its shoulder and flailed wildly at me with its mace.

  I dropped to the ground, under the blow and rolled, avoiding its blunt-toed feet as it came to a stop. The ogre roared in frustration and stomped, trying to crush me. I rolled right, and avoided being smashed by inches.

  I shot forward and scrambled to my feet behind the ogre. Sword in hand I turned, preparing for it to come at me again. Road Toad caught the ogre across its wrist, carving deep with his sword. The brute bellowed as it lost its grip on its mace, sending the weapon spinning into the darkness. Guzzy struck his axe deep into the ogre’s left calf and spun away. But the ogre guessed right and thrust my spear, skewering Guzzy through the chest. Encouraged by success, it drove the spear up to the crossbars, and pinned Guzzy to the ground.

  “Guzzy!” I screamed. My cousin’s plight stabbed an icy shaft into my heart. Cursing myself as much as the monster, I charged back into the fray. Road Toad sidestepped a kick and cut at the monster’s leg, slicing deep just above the heel. The ogre reached back, grasping for Road Toad. It came away with the mercenary’s shield and in roaring frustration, crushed it with its thick-fingered hand.

  The ogre’s right foot gave out when it tried to turn and pursue Road Toad who backed away. The brute stumbled forward to the ground, allowing me to leap onto its back. I stabbed my sword at the base of its skull and missed, grazing its scalp instead. My momentum carried me tumbling over its head and to the ground. Our wounded foe tried to rise but, before it could, Road Toad drove his sword into one of its yellow eyes. The ogre gasped, filling the air with its fetid breath while grasping wildly at the mercenary. With a twisting wrench, Road Toad tore at the ogre’s brain and killed it.

  “With me, Krish!” called Road Toad, running to assist the captain.

  I ran to help Guzzy. My cousin lay pinned to the damp earth with a pale, stunned look on his face. He couldn’t be dead, I thought. Not yet. I wouldn’t let him die. Blood trickled from his nose and mouth, but he was still breath
ing.

  I reached into my belt pouch for a handful of finely ground white oak bark. It was the only component to the only healing spell I knew. I sprinkled the grainy bark dust around the wound. I’d have to remove the spear before beginning and then work fast. The magic required would kill me, but it might save Guzzy. In the depths of my heart I knew I’d fail. But I had to try.

  I began the only chant I knew, the only one my older sister had taught me, while opening my mind to the maelstrom of energy that raged beyond the reach of normal senses. I edged closer, seeking a sliver of the swirling energy, a strand that I recognized. One that I could direct.

  I continued to chant while energies buffeted my mind as I delved deeper, seeking to draw upon a strand broader than I could survive. One that might mend Guzzy’s wound. Not completely, but enough until Road Toad and the captain could get him to a Lain Healer. A true healer.

  Someone grasped my hands, attempting to break my hold on the spear. I tightened my grip against the feeble tugs, but the lapse in concentration caused me to lose focus on the energy strands. My mind spun and I backed out before I lost my way in the whorl of energies. I held back my despair, knowing I lacked the strength to try again.

  “Krish, no.”

  The gurgling whisper tugged at my senses. It was Guzzy! I forced my eyes open to see him with his hands on mine. I leaned close and turned my ear to his bloody lips.

  “You can’t…”

  “I could’ve saved you.”

  He feebly shook his head. “No. Fight,” he gasped. “Don’t let them take me.”

  “We won’t,” said Road Toad, standing above us, examining the mortal wound. “What’s—” he stared, but didn’t finish. He looked from Guzzy to me. “We’ve got to move now, Krish.”

  I let go of the spear and reached for my discarded sword. “We can’t leave him!”

  The mercenary stepped on my blade before I could lift it. “Zombies are moving beyond the gully,” he said. He scanned the area before removing his foot from my sword and crouching down. “Fire’s almost out. So’s your time, Leader of our Picket.” He reached into a salt pouch. “You know what I have to do?”