pale undead materialized between her and the wall, swords drawn back to stab.
###
Molly stepped out of the shadows and saw Romaria take the form of the wolf and leap into the ranks of the undead. The creatures scattered, their attack thrown into disarray, but it would not matter for long. The armsmen and knights had no weapons that would hurt the undead, at least until Mazael arrived with Lion.
She saw Timothy standing atop the rampart, pointing a copper tube at the undead and working a spell.
Fire might harm the undead, if Timothy could cast his spell in time.
A flare of green light and mist appeared at the base of the curtain wall, and another row of pale undead materialized in the courtyard.
Trapping Romaria.
Molly's Demonsouled rage rose up inside her, making her stronger and faster. But the demon-tainted blood she had inherited from Mazael gave her powers other than superhuman strength and speed. She reached for the burning power within and stepped into the shadows.
The world disappeared into darkness, and Molly reappeared next to Romaria.
Molly darted forward, her sword and dagger a blur. Her weapons would not touch the undead, but her blows distracted the creatures. She sent one of the undead sprawling to the floor, spun, and knocked a second creature crashing into two more. Romaria growled and tore through the undead, driving them back, and Molly covered her flank, sword and dagger flying.
The pale undead bunched up beneath the closed gate.
Right in the path of Timothy's spell.
The wizard thrust out his hand, and flames exploded from his copper tube. The cone of fire washed through the mass of the undead. Their ancient, bloodless flesh went up like dry grass, the sigils of green fire upon their foreheads drowning in raging yellow-orange flame.
Dozens of them collapsed.
But more kept walking through the curtain wall.
Molly spun in a circle. There were too many of the undead, and more kept coming. They could not hope to hold out. Not without...
A flash of blue light caught her eye.
A man in golden armor attacked the undead, a sword of blue fire blazing in his fist.
###
Mazael charged the pale undead.
The creatures wore black chain mail, but no helms, and Lion's burning blade ripped through their necks like a scythe through stalks of wheat. He struck down one, two, three, and then wheeled, clanging his blade against the swords of his men and Toraine's men.
Lion's fire spread to the other blades, and the men attacked with renewed vigor, the weapons biting into the undead flesh.
Darkness swirled beside him, and Molly appeared, her weapons in hand.
"Father," she said, slapping her sword and dagger against Lion, "you're late."
Toraine touched his curved blade to Lion, and the dragon's talon crackled with ghostly blue fire.
"I beg your forgiveness, daughter. I was wasting time with something unimportant," said Mazael.
Toraine sneered and went on the attack.
Mazael raced through the melee, striking down undead after undead. And as he did, he touched Lion to sword after sword, until the courtyard flickered with blue light. His men formed ranks with Toraine's armsmen, and step by step they drove the undead toward the wall.
Then Mazael saw a man in a black cloak and wizard’s coat moving along the ramparts over the gate.
Lucan Mandragon.
Lucan lifted his hands, face tight with concentration. Gray mist swirled below the portcullis, and a dozen beasts leapt from the mist, creatures that looked like the offspring of a hunting lion and a squid. Spirit creatures, dragged into the mortal world by the force of Lucan's will. The beasts attacked the undead, their misty claws and fangs rending undead flesh. Next to Lucan, Timothy reached into his coat and produced another one of his copper tubes.
The undead put up a tremendous fight. The creatures had the strength of the zuvembies, and yet wielded weapons like the ebony dead of Arylkrad. Even worse, unlike the
###
Molly stepped out of the shadows and saw Romaria take the form of the wolf and leap into the ranks of the undead. The creatures scattered, their attack thrown into disarray, but it would not matter for long. The armsmen and knights had no weapons that would hurt the undead, at least until Mazael arrived with Lion.
She saw Timothy standing atop the rampart, pointing a copper tube at the undead and working a spell.
Fire might harm the undead, if Timothy could cast his spell in time.
A flare of green light and mist appeared at the base of the curtain wall, and another row of pale undead materialized in the courtyard.
Trapping Romaria.
Molly's Demonsouled rage rose up inside her, making her stronger and faster. But the demon-tainted blood she had inherited from Mazael gave her powers other than superhuman strength and speed. She reached for the burning power within and stepped into the shadows.
The world disappeared into darkness, and Molly reappeared next to Romaria.
Molly darted forward, her sword and dagger a blur. Her weapons would not touch the undead, but her blows distracted the creatures. She sent one of the undead sprawling to the floor, spun, and knocked a second creature crashing into two more. Romaria growled and tore through the undead, driving them back, and Molly covered her flank, sword and dagger flying.
The pale undead bunched up beneath the closed gate.
Right in the path of Timothy's spell.
The wizard thrust out his hand, and flames exploded from his copper tube. The cone of fire washed through the mass of the undead. Their ancient, bloodless flesh went up like dry grass, the sigils of green fire upon their foreheads drowning in raging yellow-orange flame.
Dozens of them collapsed.
But more kept walking through the curtain wall.
Molly spun in a circle. There were too many of the undead, and more kept coming. They could not hope to hold out. Not without...
A flash of blue light caught her eye.
A man in golden armor attacked the undead, a sword of blue fire blazing in his fist.
###
Mazael charged the pale undead.
The creatures wore black chain mail, but no helms, and Lion's burning blade ripped through their necks like a scythe through stalks of wheat. He struck down one, two, three, and then wheeled, clanging his blade against the swords of his men and Toraine's men.
Lion's fire spread to the other blades, and the men attacked with renewed vigor, the weapons biting into the undead flesh.
Darkness swirled beside him, and Molly appeared, her weapons in hand.
"Father," she said, slapping her sword and dagger against Lion, "you're late."
Toraine touched his curved blade to Lion, and the dragon's talon crackled with ghostly blue fire.
"I beg your forgiveness, daughter. I was wasting time with something unimportant," said Mazael.
Toraine sneered and went on the attack.
Mazael raced through the melee, striking down undead after undead. And as he did, he touched Lion to sword after sword, until the courtyard flickered with blue light. His men formed ranks with Toraine's armsmen, and step by step they drove the undead toward the wall.
Then Mazael saw a man in a black cloak and wizard’s coat moving along the ramparts over the gate.
Lucan Mandragon.
Lucan lifted his hands, face tight with concentration. Gray mist swirled below the portcullis, and a dozen beasts leapt from the mist, creatures that looked like the offspring of a hunting lion and a squid. Spirit creatures, dragged into the mortal world by the force of Lucan's will. The beasts attacked the undead, their misty claws and fangs rending undead flesh. Next to Lucan, Timothy reached into his coat and produced another one of his copper tubes.
The undead put up a tremendous fight. The creatures had the strength of the zuvembies, and yet wielded weapons like the ebony dead of Arylkrad. Even worse, unlike the
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