Chapter 3
Saetring let out an explosive breath and shouted, "You knew this thing was coming and you never let anyone know? Never took any precautions? You cowardly bastards!" He smashed his hand into the table as he uttered the final sentence.
The other three guild members leapt to their feet, weapons appearing in their hands. Saetring's unsheathed his sword in a rough motion and Nalmila produced several throwing knives from various parts on her person. Brellin and Carius both sat impassively, wordlessly speaking to each other with their eyes. They reached an unspoken agreement and Brellin suddenly stood, waves of magic billowing from him. The angered guild members and his two companions were thrown against the wooden walls, causing large cracks to appear in the beams. The noise outside ceased and a stampede of feet admitted twenty additional members of the guild. Saetring's eyes were popping out of his head as he realised the folly of angering the guild members.
"You might as well come in," Brellin called to them, "You all need to hear this."
They all filed in, a buzz of conversation running through their midst. Carius remained seated whilst Brellin kept the angered ones pinned against the wall.
"You wanted to know why we didn't warn anyone." Carius asked Saetring, "Two reasons; firstly, we didn't wish to cause a premature panic as we'd only heard a rumour. Secondly, we believed that the necromancer wouldn't make his move till three summers into the future."
"Three years is not enough time to prepare for a horror such as this," spat Nalmila, "We're completely unprepared to face this at the moment and it will take months to assemble the combined armies of the Imperial Legion and the Fighters and Mages guild."
"Not if they're already assembled."
Everyone stared at Carius in shock, including his guild mates. Obviously, none had heard of such an assembly.
"And when did you plan to tell us this?" rumbled a nearby Orc. Each of the guild members voiced their agreement.
"Actually, it's only the Imperial Legion and Mages guild who are mobilizing. As always, the Fighters Guild is ready to fight at any time."
Antus the guard lounged against the battlements atop the wall of Chorrol. He was armoured in chain mail with a blue leather tunic pulled over the top. The tunic had Chorrol's coat of arms sewn onto it. A half helm sat atop his head, the heat stifling, causing rivulets of sweat to run down his neck. A bow was leaning against the battlement next to him and a quiver of arrows was slung over his back.
He had been on duty since midday and he was already bored. Nothing ever happens in Chorrol, he thought gloomily as his bored eyes stared out across the expanse of forestry. Birds flittered from tree to tree, their chirping voices echoing off of the trees. I wish I was a bird, thought Antus glumly. Suddenly, a flock of them burst from the trees, crying out in shrill voices. Antus straightened and unconsciously reached for his bow. A chill ran down his spine as he watched the birds.
"Radik!" Antus called warningly to the guard outside the gate, "Get inside, quickly!"
Radik's answering call was questioning.
"I think there's something out there!" Antus said, drawing an arrow.
"I don't see anything! I think your eyes are failing you."
"Call it a precaution!"
Radik laughed uproariously. "A precaution? Against what may I as…" His voice trailed off as something caught his attention. Suddenly he shouted something at the guard next to him and they both scrambled inside.
"Close the gate!" Radik screamed as he passed. Four guards moved onto each gate and forced them shut with a loud boom.
"What did you see?" called Antus.
"What did I see?" Radik called, verging on hysteria, "I saw an army of god damn undead!"
Brellin started as the door banged open. Two of the Chorrol militia strode over the threshold and into the building. Both were armoured in shining steel with helms tucked underneath their arms.
"Sir," one said curtly, nodding to Carius, "We've been instructed to bring you to the castle."
Carius stood, casting them a curious look. "And what does her Grace wish of me?"
"Her and the leaders of the militia are gathered for a council of war," the other said formally.
"Against whom?" Brellin inquired.
"The army of undead at the gates."
Blank silence greeted his words. All of the guild members and Brellin's companions stared in shock at the duo of grim-faced militia. Then, the Orc who had spoken earlier suddenly roared, "To war!"
As one, they pushed the militia out of the doorway and rushed into the warm, evening air. Instantly, a missile of Darkness arced over the wall and exploded in the midst of the Fighter's Guild members. Two more soon followed, scattering them all. Using a powerful telekinesis spell, Brellin pulled his companions towards him. Together, they sprinted for the massing militia at the gate. To their right, a guard was fleeing down a ladder from atop the wall. Nalmila beckoned him over and asked him, "where are the missiles coming from?"
His eyes were wild as he replied, "Necromancers. There are groups of them firing at will into the city."
"And the undead?"
"Pounding on the gate; they're breaking through!" He fled back towards the castle. Before he covered twenty yards, he was hit by a missile. Swearing, Brellin turned about, preparing to face off with the necromancers and their magic. Another missile arced over. Brellin cast a mobile shield spell in the shape of a sphere at it. The shield simply rebounded and the missile made a quick turn, now coming for the three of them. Brellin cast an immovable, more powerful shield spell and the missile shattered against it. He gasped as he felt his energy drain from his body.
Suddenly, there was a scream from the gate and all three turned to see a militiaman being pulled through a small hole by a decaying hand. Patches of flesh still clung to the bone and its fingernails had mutated into claws. One of the man's comrades began hacking at the arm with his sword. His sword sheared through the bone but Brellin noticed a slight bend in the blade.
With a savage cry, Saetring swept his own massive sword from its sheath, shouldered his shield and went to assist the militiamen. More and more holes began appearing, dead arms knocking large, sharp pieces of wood from the holes. Their arms were sliced to ribbons on the shards but they paid no mind in their frenzied attempt to take the city.
The non-military citizens of Chorrol fled to the castle while the militia and the guard held the enemy back. Nalmila, Brellin and Saetring all assisted in the defence yet the constant flow of undead could not be stemmed. Eventually, the gates were smashed in by a reanimated Orc and the horde poured into the city. The militia and remnants of the Guilds retreated into the streets and marketplaces, constantly fighting. In a show of unprecedented organization, the zombies broke into contingents and strategically took the city.
"How are they so organized?" marvelled Brellin to Carius as the two stood, slashing down the undead surrounding them. Their group had been forced into the marketplace around the Great Oak and they were gradually being slain. The members of the Mages Guild had their hands full, striving to erect shield after shield to block the missiles of the necromancers.
"I think their masters must be controlling them from afar," frowned Carius in a small lull o
"That doesn't bode well," replied Brellin grimly. The undead then regrouped and renewed their assault.
"They all appear to be Dunmer," called Nalmila from the right.
"I'd say they picked most of this lot from Morrowind," answered Saetring as he cleaved the head of a zombie in two.
"That's a long journey to Chorrol," Carius disagreed, catching a swipe of the flat of his blade. He pushed the zombie back and swept its head from its shoulders.
"Perhaps that Darkness can do more than kill," mused Brellin softly as he wreathed an annoying zombie in flames. Behind them, a guard was violently pulled away from his comrades and torn apart, blood spraying everywhere. The stench of rotting flesh covered the city and many gagged as they spilled the zombies' old blood.
Suddenly, a huge, lumbering zombie came at Brellin, casting lesser zombies aside with its fists. Its face was a grotesque image of drool and fangs. Instead of claws, it had long, sharp talons.
"Is that... a Troll Zombie?" asked Saetring in shock.
Brellin erected a shield in front of the zombie. It smashed into it yet the shield stood firm and the zombie was thrown to the ground.
"Now," Brellin snapped.
Nalmila sprinted up dodging poorly aimed swipes from zombies. A long, curved dagger appeared in her hand as she slashed at the Troll's soft neck. With an amazing show of speed, the latter swung its decaying arm, knocking Nalmila to the ground. Zombies crowded around her, drooling with hunger. Saetring broke ranks and ran for her, swinging his sword in huge sweeping strikes. The Troll struggled to its feet and came at him. Saetring's eyes were wild as he faced the massive foe. Nalmila killed two of the zombies surrounding her and cast an invisibility spell. She materialised behind Saetring, protecting his back.
The Troll swung at Saetring but he caught the blow on his shield, his sword striking inwards. The Troll moved slightly so the sword entered its side, doing nothing. It twisted, yanking Saetring's sword from his hand and raised its hand in order to strike.
Brellin's mind went up in flames. Duplicating the technique he used on the missile, he cast a mobile shield at the zombie. It smashed into his stomach sending it crashing through the ranks of zombies. Saetring watched crestfallen as his sword went with it before he followed Nalmila back to their group.