A Real Drengr 10 (Patreon)

“Hold fast!” I shouted as the shambling wave of skeletons and zombies rushed towards our defensive line. It wasn't nearly enough.

They tore through our barricades, sending a few men to their deaths, before they even got close enough to reach us. The battle became a desperate melee, with Oswin and I fighting side by side, swinging our blades wildly and trying to keep the enemy off of each other while also protecting the villagers a few hours' march away. They were doing well, though. It seemed like every skeleton and zombie was being pushed back, but slowly. We couldn't hold them forever. Eventually, we'd either run out of strength, or the undead would simply overwhelm us.

The sun rose behind the army of undead, casting the scene in a deep crimson light. The sun's rays were hot on my skin, and the smell of smoke filled the air. It took everything I had not to retch at the scent. A few of the soldiers near me coughed weakly, but most held firm. Our numbers weren't great, but we fought as a unit. And eventually, something happened.

A dark shape moved over the battlefield, followed quickly by another. As soon as the two appeared overhead, a strange energy began to fill the air around them. Beams of frost and ice launched from the two figures towards us. While none hit us directly, the chill in the air made it impossible to ignore. The undead began to stumble, falling to the ground and freezing solid in place. A few of the farmers tried to move closer to the apparently faulting undead, but I raised my hand.

“Liches! Shields up!” I shouted.

With a shout, the villagers lifted up their shields between them and the ensuing blasts of freezing magic. The liches landed among us, their skeletal forms floating about in slow-motion as they stalked forward. I swung my blade at one of them, cutting it clean in half, but the other lich was quicker. It formed a ball of ice in its hands, and hurled it at me. My armor deflected the attack, but I felt the cold radiating off of the spell. The next blast came even faster, and I barely managed to deflect the worst of it just in time. The force of the icy attack knocked me backwards, slamming me into a tree and sending me sliding across the dirt.

Oswin rushed forward, his cleaver rising above his head, and cut down one of the undead. He turned to face the other lich, and together they struck again. The second lich used its magic to freeze the ground beneath Oswin's feet, causing him to fall. He managed to roll to the side in time to avoid getting crushed underfoot, but the attack still slowed him considerably. The undead grinned, forming a fist and launching a punch at Oswin's chest. He blocked the blow easily, but the force of the strike sent him stumbling backward. His cleaver clattered to the ground.

The lich lunged forward, raising a clawed hand high, frost magic swirling around it. Oswin drew a knife, using the hilt to push himself upright and stabbing at the lich's eye socket. The creature grunted, clutching its face and throwing itself to the side. Its momentum carried it right past Oswin, who jumped after him. With a flick of his wrist, he threw a dagger at the monster.

By this point, I managed to get back to my feet, though I stumbled slightly when I tried to stand. The lich spun around, lashing out at me with a wave of frost. I ducked under the attack and slashed at the back of its knee joint, forcing it to collapse onto the ground. Another blast of icy magic flew over me, knocking me sideways.

I recovered quickly, however, spinning to block the next blast coming straight at me. This time, it didn't seem as strong, but it still hurt quite a bit. I could feel my bones beginning to freeze, and I knew that if I fell unconscious here, it wouldn't be long before they made it to the fleeing villagers, and Salandria wouldn't be able to defend them on her own. I gritted my teeth and braced for impact.

The lich’s spell was interrupted by a familiar figure shoulder checking it, Joseph Redpath knocking the lich to the side and causing the spell to fire off into the sky. He turned to glare at the undead, but it was too late. Both necromancers had already taken flight, swooping through the air and disappearing into the clouds.

“What are you doing?” I yelled. “We need to kill these things!”

“Not yet,” said Joseph. “The longer they're on the field, the longer we have before they just send in enough numbers to overwhelm us.”

He pointed toward the north end of the field where the last remaining undead stood, preparing to charge. At least twenty or thirty more had joined them since we'd arrived, and now there were only fifty or sixty of us left. The undead looked ready to rush us any moment.

I found myself wondering if he’d already been corrupted by the Scourge, but I couldn’t put much focus on that. I needed to focus on keeping as many of the defenders alive as possible. I took a deep breath, rolling the shoulder I’d landed on, and readied Truth. Just in time, as the undead began rushing our position, the mindless horde rushing towards us with raised swords, axes, and clubs.

“Hold fast!” I shouted, feeling my resolve hardening. I wished that Chromie had told me how this ended, but I would make do and endure, holding out as long as I could against as many as I could.

Reaching into a pouch, I pulled out a few grenades I’d cobbled together while we were waiting for the Scourge to come, and threw them over the barricade into the middle of the horde. They exploded with bursts of concentrated Light, the three grenades taking out at least a dozen undead each. It didn’t even make a dent in the numbers.

I let out a sharp breath through my teeth. Seems that the Scourge got tired of giving us a chance and made do with the zerg rush. This looked like it was it, I could only hope that it was enough.

“Peter!” Chromie’s voice made me look to the side of my peripheral even as I tightened my grip on Truth.

“How’re we doing Chromie?” I asked, even as the first undead of this wave ran headlong into the prepared spikes.

“Salandria’s led the villagers far enough away, it’s time for you and I to go,” she said, reaching out for my leg.

“Not yet,” I said, moving my leg away from her hand. “I’m not abandoning them.”

“Peter, if we don’t go now, I can’t promise that the Infinite Dragonflight won’t trap us here! We need to go back to the future right now!”

I didn’t answer immediately, as the first of the undead managed to breach the barricade by climbing over the still moving corpses that had impaled themselves on the spikes. Truth flashed through the air, the blade cutting the magics animating them as easily as it parted flesh. I saw two men, Jorgen Blackwood and Yobias Mistdawn, go down as the undead grappled and tore at them.

“I will not leave,” I snapped. “Not so long as there’s another standing in defense of Darrowshire.”

Even without looking, I could feel Chromie’s gaze hardening. Which was the cue I’d been waiting for. The first item I’d crafted with the dragon teeth that I’d been granted, and I was saving it for something like this. I reached into my pouch, and pulled out another grenade. But instead of throwing it into the undead, I simply dropped it.

The grenade detonated at my feet, a wave of magical energy emanating out to cover the entirety of Darrowshire. The undead stilled and froze, as the remaining defenders took advantage of their enemies’ momentary paralysis. But the undead weren’t the only ones affected. Chromie let out a stunned gurgle and fell on her ass, while Redpath screamed and clutched at his head.

“It’ll wear off in a minute or two,” I whispered to Chromie, before moving out to the middle of the battlefield. This was such a stupid ploy, but it was the only thing I could think that could possibly work. Taking a deep breath, I bellowed at the top of my lungs, “ARTHANA! I RENOUNCE YOU FOR YOUR DERELICTION OF DUTY, KINSLAYING, AND INABILITY TO APPRECIATE QUALITY CRAFTSMANSHIP! I STAND BEFORE YOU, AN EQUAL, IN DEFIANCE! FACE ME, LORD OF ALTERAC, IF YOU DARE, LADY OF LORDAERON! FACE ME OR BE KNOWN AS A COWARD WHO COULDN’T FACE A MAN OF ALTERAC!”

The liches on the hill turned to look at each other for a moment, before turning to look behind them. I was glad for the helmet, because it hid the expression I was making. I honestly hadn’t really expected Arthana to be taking part in this battle, so when she rode out atop her skeletal horse, it was a surprise. She looked so much like the last time I’d seen her all those years ago, the only change being the style of her armor and her hair having turned a pale white from the golden blonde it had once been.

“Well, this is an unexpected surprise,” she purred, her voice still just as melodious as I remembered, but twisted into something wrong. “I had planned on leaving you a gift, for when you managed to return from Northrend, but you arrived earlier than I’d anticipat…”

Arthana froze, her face twisting in confusion, before her eyes narrowed into a frosty expression. If I weren’t so close, I probably wouldn’t have heard what she muttered under her breath, “What in Ner’zhul’s name?”

I didn’t want to do what I was about to, but it was the surest way I could think of to give the defenders a chance to flee. As Arthana was distracted, I muttered a quick prayer as I held Truth like a javelin, “Sword of Truth, Fly Swift and Sure, that Evil Die, and Good Endure.”

With that prayer, I hurled Truth with all of my strength, the blade flying through the air and managing to punch through the plate armor Arthana was wearing, knocking her off her horse. I turned around, running back to the barricades as fast as my armored form was capable of and shouted, “Run! Flee for the river!”

The defenders that were still alive, maybe fifteen in total, turned and ran. I knelt down, scooping up the still stunned form of Chromie, but didn’t slow down. By my initial calculations, the undead would remain frozen for about fifteen to twenty minutes, but those numbers didn’t take into account a pissed off Arthana who’d just been run through with a two handed sword. We’d get maybe five minutes, at best in that case.

I followed the defenders for a short bit, before breaking off and turning north. Arthana’d be pissed at me, so I would be the focus of the Scourge once they recovered. By splitting off, I’d give the rest of the survivors a greater chance at escaping. Now I just had to survive long enough for Chromie to recover while also keeping ahead of the Scourge, but not so far ahead that they’d give up and turn back towards the villagers. Easy peasy.

Oh who was I kidding, I was going to die in this hairbrained scheme, but so long as the people I’d failed once before got away, I’d be fine with that. Glancing down at the gnome-shaped dragon I was carrying like an American football, I asked her, “Chromie, how’re you doing down there?”

“Wht df y d t’m?” her response was half mumbled, half slurred, but I got the gist of it anyway.

“I figured that there’d be something unexpected, so I made a grenade that interferes with magical influences. In the case of undead, it doesn’t destroy them, but they can’t move until it wears off. Possession, I’m guessing that it causes immense pain to either the host, the possessor, or both. In your case, you’re a dragon in the shape of a gnome, even if you’re not a blue dragon, magic is part of your very nature. Now hang on tight, I need to stay ahead of the Scourge until nightfall, that should be enough time for the last of Darrowshire to escape.”

“Y’s dq,” was the reply from the adorable dragon.