Scourge - 8 (Patreon)

There was a tense moment of silence following Archmage Arugal's proclamation, the realisation that the battle was coming here at last and that the monsters we had been preparing for, trying to save innocents from for weeks, would soon be upon us.

"Close the gate." Genn ordered, his resonant voice cutting through the air like a knife and my head, along with so many others, turned towards him. "Arugal, get your people inside. I will not renege on my word." He tilted his head back, looking up at the towering edifice of the Greymane Wall. "Lord Crowley, begin preparations to close the gate. Once the last of the Kirin Tor exiles are within it will shut. Godfrey, see to managing their entrance; we cannot allow their progress to be slowed by the Lordainians."

Leather creaked as Prince Liam clenched his hands around his reins. "How many remain outside?" He hissed under his breath. "How many thousands?"

"Tens of thousands." I answered, staring at Genn's head with a deep-seated frustration of my own. "More than there should be."

He was condemning them, the full force of Scourge was unlikely to arrive all at once. People could be brought through and processed after being gathered in safety. Many more of them could have been brought through over the last few days if he wasn't insistent on keeping out foreigners.

Now, every person out there wasn't just going to be a victim, but another soldier in our enemy's army.

There was always going to be a point where the wall shut and the last lucky people came through, but it didn't have to be today. It didn't have to be now. We were nearly out of time, but it wasn't quite there yet.

The prince spurred his horse, moving towards his father as he spoke with a recalcitrant Darius. "I must speak with him." He said. "Surely there is something."

My own thoughts ran elsewhere. We were nearly out of time; so were others. I pulled Lorna's arm off of me and slid from Donovan's back, settling on the ground lightly as she looked at me curiously. "The expedition. It needs to leave yesterday. If they haven't–"

"On it." She said, her lips forming into a severe line. She buckled herself in as Donovan reared back and screeched, making even the well-trained mounts of the procession back away nervously and give him space to stretch his wings. "Don', fly!" She shouted.

I shielded my eyes and backed away as his wings beat furiously, kicking snow into the air in a powdery flurry.

Within moments they were away, Donovan almost skimming the tops of people's heads as he flew through the gate. And with his departure, whatever peace there had been was broken completely; Godfrey stepped his horse away from Genn's and began bellowing orders.

"Hauldron Guard! Graenford Watch! Form up and make lines along the road! Separate the mages from the riffraff!" He directed, and the following rush of soldiers filled the air with the rattling of mail and the clanking of steel boots upon the cobbled road beneath the snow. "Keel Marines, you're on customs inspection! Show your skill in finding contraband!"

As more and more men pushed forward, I was forced to dodge to the side, nearly getting trampled at moments as I moved to reach one of the customs stations.

Mages were already queuing sceptically as the Royal Alchemical Society's apprentices on duty tried to quickly ramp up production of the testing mixture. There were four in total, two on each side of the gate, and they could man the other on this side.

I'd probably render even that pointless, but maybe... maybe more people could slip through if there was more capacity. I certainly wasn't going to report any oddities amongst the Kirin Tor.

"You can take over third station, I've got fourth." I told the alchemists, nodding to the Crowley guards on duty, and pausing to smile as Thomas jogged up and took position amongst them. "We're going to be working fast, no time for my normal procedure." I brushed off my skirt as I sat out in the open rather than somewhere out of the way; the mages weren't going to be the ones who accused me of demonic magic if I pointed them out as infected. "To explain briefly, I have Mana Sight and can see the Plague infecting individuals if I focus. This line will be the one moving fastest as a result."

An older mage at the front of the line scoffed lightly.

"What's your problem?" Thomas snapped, standing protectively at my side. I could appreciate the sentiment, but it wasn't going to do much. "She's been doing this fer weeks an' never one slip!"

"Were any of our caravan infected, we would know already." The mage said, waving a dismissive hand. "I can understand the precautions, but to say an apprentice has somehow naturally achieved the same result Archmage Antonidas toiled over and has only managed to teach to fellow archmages? That level of Mana Sight is–

"Is the domain of a girl who Archmage Modera wished to personally tutor, and was accepted into an advanced class at age twelve on the basis of said Mana Sight." Archmage Arugal said silkily, stepping past the old mage alongside a younger woman and smiling through his veil. "My greetings Witch Arevin, I had not expected to see you so soon after your disappearance from Dalaran, and yet here we are.

I examined the man who would release the worgen for a moment, the strangely affable and supportive behaviour throwing me for a loop. The whole situation was, really. "It is a surprise to me as well, Archmage." I said. "I can hardly believe the council would expel so many from the Kirin Tor."

"Nor can I." He answered, a sparkle in his eyes showing his great amusement over something. "Now, I have much I need to do, so if you would examine myself and my companion...?"

Glancing at the woman, whose face reminded me of someone, I confirmed she was uninfected as well. "Clean. Welcome to Gilneas, Archmage."

"And what a welcome it is." He said, nodding his head before moving off to join the king in conversation once more.

His rank being what it was, he hadn't really needed to come past me. It had been for show, to make clear my results were trusted... it was strange. And his response to my question made it clear enough that this wasn't some random thing, it had been planned.

With the archmage past, the procession started to move more smoothly. Names were taken and checked off as being Plague free within seconds, and I heard some of the long-standing gate guards muttering thankfully about my speed compared to the alchemists. Impatient mages just half a dozen feet away were making a fuss over the time it took for blood to be taken, boiled, the catalyst added, and the results examined.

The muttering even answered my question as to where Thomas heard of my reputation. They must have been wishing I'd come back to work weeks ago and engaged in the favourite soldier's pastime of bitching about anything and everything.

Another couple of familiar faces passed by fairly quickly; the deeply sour and grumpy Lottie Spellwaker snorted at me and demanded my book back as she was let through, and Janice – not the witch, the mage dropout – greeted me warmly. It took me a moment to place her, and I only got it when she mentioned our trip from Ambermill to this very wall years back.

Her travelling companions, riding with her on her wagon, were a scraggly bunch. Wrapped up warmly in canvas and pointedly not looking around themselves or acting nervously. The cart driver – Arthur, that was his name – wasn't among them, and it made me wonder if he had gone elsewhere or if something had happened to him.

But, despite their oddities, as soon as I cleared them as being uninfected, Darius' men took their names, noted them down as Plague free, and waved them and the cart through. Four more lives saved despite Genn's–

Out of nowhere a crack split the air, a gunshot silencing the constant hubbub for a brief instant. Glancing away from the lucky people from Dalaran making their way through the wall, I could see smoke rising from the barrel of a Gilnean soldier's musket.

Within moments, the shot was followed by a series of terrified screams and angry roars as the protesting crowd of refugees from the camps outside the wall turned into a full-blown riot. Agonised shrieks cut through the din as people were trampled underfoot by those trying to flee mixing with those pressing forward to retaliate against the soldiers.

"Your Majesty, you cannot consider this reasonable! They are unarmed civilians!" A mage loudly protested beside the king. "Innocents, women and children. Are–"

The human wave crashed into the raised shields of the front ranks with a deafening crash, and a wave of thunder rippled out as the soldiers retaliated with a full volley of fire. "Rank change! Reload!" Came a bellowed order.

So many people were falling I couldn't even count them. And, yet, a small part of me couldn't help but think it was better this way than to die to the Scourge. Better still would be for us to be allowed to let any and all through that we could, but... wanting such changes didn't make them possible. Maybe I could interfere, make a barrier to keep them away that wouldn't kill them.

But then I would be an active participant, a complicit part, of their suppression. Obeying Genn's will to harm them. Of their deaths. No, I would not; adding more weight to my shoulders, even if it would hardly spare me all of the misplaced guilt, wasn't something I could afford.

I would do what I could instead.

A 'husband' who looked entirely out of place with his arm around a mage's waist, almost as if he was afraid she was going to set him on fire if he touched her too inappropriately, was waved through with little fanfare.

"So much for the civilised Gilneans." The mage snapped disdainfully. "We should never–"

"We were graciously granted sanctuary after being banished from Dalaran." Archmage Arugal forcefully shut down his fellow mage. "It is unfortunate that not all may be offered that privilege, but I suspect you would not be willing to take their place, Ardman."

The mage, Ardman, shrinks back slightly, refusing to speak further.

"I thought not."

As their discussion quietened, I strained my ears to keep listening. Pulling on the spark of Lord Renard's essence without embracing it fully and focusing as strongly as I could on just my hearing. It was a new experience, and decidedly uncomfortable.

But it worked.

"–then this would not be necessary." Genn said darkly. "We are pressed to provide for those who have the right to live in Gilneas, that we have offered so much as we have is a kindness these Lordainians do not deserve. Always begged for Gilnean gold, Gilnean steel, and Gilnean lives. There are scant few who are not such beggars beyond the wall now; we should have done this weeks ago."

Liar. My hackles rose and I snarled at his unbelievable lie.

Godfrey barked out a laugh. "Mia's soft heart is rubbing off on you, Genn." He smirked as he looked out of the gate, to where the soldiers were pushing back the refugees. "But do not fear, my men are well trained for what is necessary."

"I shall arrange accommodation for our guests." Darius said abruptly, wheeling his horse about. "By your leave, Your Majesty." He didn't wait for permission before leaving, and the moment he was away his face flashed into a rictus of rage. I caught his eye briefly, bowing my head in an unspoken offer, and though I could tell he was torn he shook his head.

Huffing loudly, I returned to what I was doing with a scowl on my face. He was right, we couldn't. Even if kicking Genn's teeth in right here and right now was possible, the resultant chaos would be catastrophic. We couldn't jeopardise the defence of the wall, the nation, with a rebellion yet.

And maybe his dream of changing the order of Gilneas without a violent revolution would actually be possible.

Not getting to kick Genn's teeth in and shove how rotten he is down his throat would be a missed opportunity, though.

"I shall take my leave as well, Father." Prince Liam said, turning away in disgust. He looked about for a moment, then headed my way.

Another oddity came before me, slowed by my distraction with the king's discussion. A young man who looked nothing like his 'brother' and hesitated awkwardly before giving his name; his clothes were heavily patched and his face haggard, unlike all but a rare few of the exiles from Dalaran.

The prince didn't say anything as he watched me let the man through, just dismounting and walking up to stand beside me. After another few passed through he took the papers from Thomas and began taking notes personally.

"Cor, didn't expect to work alongside the prince today." Thomas chuckled.

Liam smiled, but it was a brittle thing. "It is the duty of royalty to shoulder the burdens of their people. My role may be small, but it is only right that I take part."

"Well said." I muttered, then cleared my throat. "Clean."

"Might I ask where Lorna went?" Liam asked softly.

"Expedition Point. They need to leave."

"I see." He shook the hand of a young girl with her mother, putting a believable faux smile on his face this time. "Welcome to Gilneas, may you find your stay in our fair country pleasant."

"It rained. All day. For three days." The girl said, staring up at him sceptically. "Is it going to rain again?"

I glanced at the sky for a moment, then shrugged. "Little bit, not more than an hour or so. Tomorrow will be all snow so bundle up warm."

She looked thoroughly fed up as her mother brought her through, and many of the guards found the reaction quite amusing. Outside of a freak drought Gilneas was soggy; the girl was going to have to get used to it.

As the procession of mages came through, he allowed oddity after oddity through without comment: Children claimed by people too young or too old to have them, mysteriously extended families who spoke with different accents and looked nothing alike, freshly married couples who couldn't possibly be separated.

He politely welcomed each and every person with a smile, offering a moment of time and his assurances of their safety.

His quiet disregard of his father's orders earned grumbles from some of the Keel marines, but universal approving looks from Dariu's men. It was a good marker of the prince's character, and only reaffirmed my belief he would be a better king.

Then, we came to someone who gave me pause. Staring at a nervous-looking platinum-haired elf who held a similarly silver-haired toddler – whose ears were pointed, but not to the same degree. Like Finnall's had been. A half-elf?

"Hello again, Gwen." She said, adjusting the toddler as she wriggled and tried to reach for her earrings. "It's been a while. Didn't really expect to meet you again, but the world's weird these days."

Honestly, for all I called the others oddities, this one took the cake. Standing out completely.

"Who...?" I tilted my head, having a hard time placing her despite the familiar voice. "Trysa! It's been years. Hi?"

I looked at the baby. The child of her and a Gilnean? A reason why–

She let out an awkward laugh. "She's not mine. My half-brother married a Gilnean girl, and since I'm his sister that meant the Council added me to their selection when they did this. This is Trini; say hello Trin."

Trini turned and got one look at Prince Liam and squeaked loudly before burrowing herself into her aunt's shirt rather than respond.

"Her parents?" Prince Liam asked softly. He sounded confused like I was, and that was enough of a prompt for me to shake myself out of it and examine them.

Neither of them were infected; though, literally no one from the Kirin Tor had been so far. And, of those they brought with them, one singularly oddity had been. But that was it.

"Injured. They're both guards and were protecting the caravan during the last attack. They're on the wagons and I have Trini for now."

"Mimi hurt." Trini whimpered.

Letting out a long breath, I waved them through. "Clean. I'll see them when I can, if no one else gets to them. It's good to see you safe, Trysa."

"You too, Gwen." She smiled sadly, making to walk past with the tiny girl in her arms.

"We're really letting the elf through? The others, sure but an elf's–" One of the guards muttered under their breath, only to get elbowed in the gut by Thomas.

Prince Liam turned to him, looking down on the doubled-over man. "A sister-in-law of a Gilnean father is Gilnean enough for me. And unless you wish to take this to my father, I believe I am the highest authority here?"

"Right you are, Your Highness!" Thomas snapped a salute.

"How could she be anything but?" I said rhetorically, then leaned over so I was close enough to see his records. "Trini and Trysa Merrowflower, Your Highness." I dropped my voice as low as it could go. "And, thank you."

He looked at me, frustration fermenting in his eyes. "It is the least a prince should do." He said, leaving unsaid his clear belief that it was far less than what Gilneas should be doing.

-oOoOo-

That night, no one slept well. From the moment the gates closed there was desperate pounding and pleading for sanctuary, for mercy, coming from through them. Despite knowing that my work with the prince had allowed hundreds of additional 'Gilneans' to find safety behind the Greymane Wall, the sound had still left me feeling cold.

Then, as dusk fell, a rolling barrage of thunder echoed across the land as cannons atop the wall fired in anger for the first time. A hail of steel and lead that tore broke apart the undead advance and created new graves for the monsters to be buried in. Swarms of zombies and packs of ghouls ended before they could reach the refugee camps still huddled at the base of the wall.

But, in the dark of night, we couldn't stop all of them, and the screams began in earnest.

Those that stayed to desperately beg for safety past the point of reason, those who could neither fight nor flee, were slowly whittled away. Far more fled in terror into the forests and beyond, towards the Pyremarsh. Some might make it as far As Silverlaine Keep, or Expedition Point, but I doubted they would find safety there. Not now; they were no farther from Dalaran than we were.

Dawn broke before the last screams faded, but I kept up the starlights used to direct fire towards packs of undead until they were silenced for good.

"Light save us." Tobias muttered quietly as he peered over the wall. "The stuff of nightmares made real."

Archmage Arugal shook his head dispassionately. "Hardly. Mere ghouls and zombies, the true nightmares are yet to come." A dismissive flick of his hand saw a trio of ghouls clambering through a tent engulfed in a blast of fire. "Abominations, skeletal horrors, wights, gargoyles, the necromancers themselves, and of course the frost wyrms that brought Silvermoon low. Should we be lucky we shall face no more than this."

"It won't happen." I said, thinking of the force we had broken at Geldenshire and the abomination they had made of Cassandra. "The cult is working here. They'll be sending a force of more than cannon fodder."

"And yet, cannon fodder we'll make of them regardless." Genn said determinedly. "Do you see the wisdom of my wall now, Darius? This was the only way to ensure Gilneas' security and prosperity. The sacrifice you have made will not be forgotten."

"As you say, Genn." Darius said, the leather of his glove creaking as he gripped the stone parapet of the wall. "Events have proven the wall necessary."

Genn smiled and nodded, unable or unwilling to notice the subtext of Darius' words.

There was, perhaps, still a chance even now. If the might of the Gilnean army sallied forth to attack the Scourge as they besieged Dalaran, striking them from behind, before Antonidas and the other archmages fell... Arthas and Kel'Thuzad might be killed. Archimonde might never be summoned.

But such was not to be, and the king was certain of his foresight in building the wall. Turning away in disgust, I offered my farewells before I said something I ought not.

-oOoOo-

The trickle of undead grew, from swarms of dozens of zombies and single-roaming ghouls to packs of hundreds and swarms of thousands. Each night, the corpses of those we felled were dragged away, to be raised anew or consumed by ghouls to replenish their injured forms; the bodies within the graves beyond the wall suffered a similar fate, consecrated or not.

Our efforts were not for nought, as the undead struggled to claim the sites we had reached and given protection, but each morning trees were left uprooted in cannonball-studded ground despite the losses the Scourge took in taking them.

And there were always more bodies. Trollish undead mixed in with the humans; the tribes of the Pyremarsh found themselves victims of the Scourge as well.

As their numbers grew, the incessant scrabbling of claws on stone had replaced the screams of before, a never-ending background sound to the firing of cannons as they thinned the oncoming tide of bodies. For a time, soldiers and nobles alike had scoffed at the idea the wall could ever fall; the undead were scarcely scratching the stonework.

It didn't take long for them to be disabused of their notion, no matter how effectively guns and cannon had held them back before.

"Counter battery fire! Break those wagons! On the double!" Commander Hersham roared, his sword flashing as he rallied the dazed cannon crew. "Get back to your posts and fire those guns, damn you!"

Another meaty thud struck the wall, splashing gore across the stone and releasing a nauseating stench. I quickly scattered seeds, rapidly growing grass to soak up and devour the Death magic that worked to weaken the wall.

Meat wagons. The Scourge's artillery. The idea of it being a siege weapon sounded absurd until you realised that each corpse they threw was a vehicle not just for disease and poison, but also the perfect conduit for necromantic magic aligned with decay. Each strike ate away at the stone like a decade of erosion would, steadily and inexorably causing damage.

One patch restored, I got up and ran past vomiting and curled-up soldiers begging for a healer, barely pausing to spare the magic to ensure they would survive to see one, to the next part of the wall suffering damage. No one had gotten to it in time and faint cracks had formed; not enough to bring it down, not even close, but it was still safer to shore it up with wood until such a time as proper repairs could be enacted.

If there was ever a chance for repairs to be made before the war was over.

There were screams as one of the cannon emplacements was struck directly; the sound of two men falling away as they were knocked off the wall by the explosion into the boiling oil and tide of flaming corpses below. I threw quick healing at those remaining, giving them a chance to recover before returning to my work.

Cannons thundered, an ear-splitting sound, and bolts of magical fire blew out of the towers from which the Kirin Tor 'exiles' were adding their weight to defence. The next volley of meat was noticeably diminished from the last, but it was still present.

And out there, wading through the masses of bodies, were abominations, simplistic grins splitting their faces as they lumbered towards the wall to smash themselves against it. That was the true danger, that the wagons would weaken the wall and the weight of the undead would, in time, bring it down. Stone by stone, crack by crack, body by body, they did not stop.

"Flyers! Incoming flyers!" I snapped up at the shout, looking out over the canopy of the forest, and sure enough there were monstrous gargoyles rising out of the trees. Packs of them, swarming towards–

"Shit!" I cursed, finishing the dispersal and leaving the patch job half finished. They were heading towards us– Trix screamed as the speeding gargoyles bore down on her, hiding behind soldiers that rallied to her defence.

There was a scream from beside me, one of the riflemen toppling over in my path as a massive hulking spider– spider–spider– fucking crypt fiend!

My hand lashed out, a panicked blast of Astral magic streaming out as a ray of twinkling stars that blinded the undead abomination and gave it pause. A spear found its side, then another, pinning it in place, and gunshots echoed as the men found their resolve and poured lead into the thing.

Swallowing heavily I formed a proper spell, a web– net of Astral magic laced with my sheer desire for it to go away.

A torrent of wind followed the surge of starlight that burst forth from my hands, lifting the abomination against nature off its feet and throwing it backwards clear off the wall, and taking the spears of two soldiers with it.

The gust also threw off a gargoyle that was aiming for me, and as it recovered I took aim and struck it with a beam of light from the sky. Driving it to the ground where, with luck, it would fall and die a second time.

Turning to look for Trix, I found her huddling behind soldiers as they watched Vivi dice a crypt fiend to pieces one leg at a time. I didn't need to rush, thank the keepers.

"We've got a fight on our hands, men!" Commander Hersham roared, his sword parrying a gargoyle's claws as it tried to skewer him. "They think to target our healers, our little magical protectors! Cowards! Let's show them a taste of Gilnean steel!"

Recovering from the shock of the change in tactics, the men cheered as they pushed back the attacking forces. Gargoyles fell from the sky as sharpshooters found their mark, and crypt fiends were pressed back by pike and shot.

Adding my magic would help, but I needed it for other tasks. Tasks they couldn't perform.

As Vivi finished off her crypt fiend, skewering its final eyeball and piercing its skull with a deft thrust, I came up behind her. "It's dead," I said, seeing the magic flee its body. "I'm so glad you're safe, Trix. Vivi–" I swallowed, shook my head, and gave up on words.

I pulled her into a hug, squeezing for an instant before letting go. "Thank you."

"She needed me." Vivi said softly, a smile gracing her pretty lips.

Trix looked up at me... and wrinkled her nose. "Ew. She's covered in spider bits!"

Looking down at my shirt, Trix was right. I shivered in revulsion; I couldn't burn this shirt, it was too magical and took too much time to make.

Pushing down the desire to get it off I took Trix's hand. "Stay with me. You're not to be alone again." She nodded shakily and set herself at my side.

The wall wasn't safe anymore.

-oOoOo-

"Wait for the flames to disperse further." Celestine said, her eyes fixed on the ground far below through the murder holes in the wall. It was disorientating to stare directly down at the ground like this, and made little better by the flames that danced at the bottom. The burning tar used to clear the undead away long enough for us to work was only slowly dying.

My hand ready in my seed pouch, I nodded. As did Trix, Heather, and so many others. Trix and the other apprentices shouldn't be here, shouldn't be standing atop the wall, no matter how determinedly she set her pre-teen face.

But Celestine was clear that we weren't to hold back the apprentices, and had even gone so far as to collect beads of Amber for them to use today. I had argued, and won, that they should never, ever, be left alone; they were our responsibility. But when Celestine even had Rosaline help, albeit only by conjuring water for the mages in one of the artillery towers, none could claim she wasn't asking that we do as she does rather than dictating from on high.

Nor could I say it wasn't working. We were holding; it was taking the full might of Gilneas, but we were holding.

A thunderous boom rolled down the wall as the cannons found a target and obliterated it, a swath of forests dozens of metres wide erupting in fire and smoke.

"Now." Celestine ordered, dropping her seeds. Within moments everyone else followed suit, casting down the blackwald thornvine seeds towards the rich fertile grounds below.

I grabbed the bead of amber around my neck, focusing my magic through the blood of the Crowned King of the Blackwald to maintain my connection to the seeds. It was a long way down, but it was still easier working from here than it would be through the wall and its foundations.

Other witches all did the same, even the apprentices, who had received their beads early due to necessity.

Of those present, I was one of the few that knew Celestine must've flown down to the forest to collect the sap from the orb to create them. It explained her absence which had put me onto the healing roster for a while.

"Grow." Trix hissed under her breath. Her free hand grabbed mine and squeezed tight, nails digging into my palm. "Grow and stop them!"

Simplistic as her words were, that was what the thornvines did. Lashing brambles erupted from the earth, drinking deeply of the Death present and converting it to new Life by feeding on the fertile wellspring they left behind. Glutted and wanting more the thornvines dug their roots deeper, entwining with the foundations of the wall and forming a thick black barrier.

We tried to animate them to lash out, to snatch undead that scrabbled away or stupidly clawed onward at their flesh and thorns, but then the necromancers showed their hand.

Withering rot struck the vine, and we were put on the defensive. A sickly slick feeling ran through my fingers as the web of life I wove was seared away until only a melted ruin remained. Animating gave way to fighting simply to stop the vines from rotting as the very magic they drank turned to poison.

"Your opening, Archmage." Celestine said calmly.

"My thanks." His voice returned, though the man himself was not present.

A moment later a torrent of spellfire ripped out of a tower, streaking through the air to strike a hidden spot in the forest. As the spot was wracked by fire, lightning, and raw Arcane power, the attacks upon our working ceased.

"Keep the vines from undermining the foundations." I said to Trix, tangling up the zombies that were trying to press through the vines now that the interference was gone. Skewered on the thorns the vines drank up their rotten blood as fertiliser greedily. "Leave growing them larger to others, your control is needed at the moment."

Trix nodded determinedly, her face screwing up in concentration as she focused on her task.

"Gargoyles! From the cloud!"

I turned to look– only to see a flashing sword sheathed in water throw out a blade that cut through the flesh of a wing and sent the creature hurtling towards the vines below. Gunfire erupted, a wall of sound slamming into my ears as smoke and lead was spat into the air to take out more.

Ready to turn and unleash my own magic on them, I kept up my focus on the plants below. If the thornvines were in place it would relieve the base of the wall. Stop the ghouls chipping through into the interior as they had been.

Where there had been cracks, spots broken allowing passage in that forced the undead to be killed in tight quarters, we had plugged the gaps with patch jobs. But they were weak points, more easily broken again. So much material had been brought in for repairs but we never had a chance to use it; now, maybe, there would be the leeway to do so. Minor as they may be, it would help.

"Thanks, Vivi." I said as she cut down another Gargoyle before it got close, then leapt to tackle one as it passed over the wall to drop a rock; she knocked its throw off course and cut the legs off of it.

She landed perfectly, her cloak fluttering around her. "Just doing what I'm supposed to." She said proudly, a hint of a smile on her face.

We were holding. It took things that were wrong, such as Trix's presence, but we were holding. Holding well enough that maybe we wouldn't even need the worgen to see that remained true.