Chapter 51 - Fear of Commitment

“That’s four hits,” said Fenris as the gate rang again.  The Western Gate was composed of alchemically reinforced Ironwood with a smattering of Mana and Science based enhancements.  That made the wood harder than iron, and it was over two feet thick.  

The fact that the back of it was cracking from the repeated impacts of the hammer was troubling.  At least when he threw the hammer, the Dark Overlord had to get into proper arrow range and even now his undead were being pelted with arrows and the occasional spell.  

“How is our barrier holding,” asked Fenris casually, like Jim would.  Even doing that caused Merideth to flinch.  She was a Cleric by class but she specialized in healing not barriers.  Lorraine had recommended her and she had been very useful in healing those wounded in the opening barrage.

“Well enough,” said Meredith as the hammer struck again and massive splinters as big as a man’s arm tore free from the back of the gate.  The barrier didn’t stop them, it just slowed them down enough that they clattered to the ground well short of Fenris’s troops.  “If that hammer gets through, I’m not sure anyone short of the Mayor can stop it.”

Fenris sensed the unease flow through his troops.  Nothing they had could stop the hammer either so they were looking to their commander in desperation and all Fenris had was his new shield.  

• General Windfall’s Shield:  When General Windfall blocks with his durable shield, all those who attack his shield will get peeled.  

By all accounts, it was a terrible item description.  Jim made it just for him though and Fenris recognized cauldron steel when he saw it, if not the specific kind of Cauldon steel.  Hopefully it didn’t come to that.

Part of Fenris wanted to summon Jim now, but that wasn’t the plan.  The Dark Overlord had to be committed, had to be actively fighting first and all of these fireworks and concussions were just the opening act.  

***

SueLeeta grumbled, using her Hunter’s Vision to pick through targets.  The Dark Overlord was as wily as Badgelor, he generated dozens of copies of himself layered throughout the milling undead and was having all the copies throw fake hammers at once.  She could see through the illusion if she focused on it, but the odds of her picking the right target were not great.  

Beakatrix’s bolts seemed to work though and she still had the horn.  When Jim found out that the horn was shriveling up, he made her give Beakatrix the chunks of broken horn that she polished off.  The Progenitor’s Cloneomatic 9000 wasn’t able to fully recreate the horn, but the fragments it did make were perfect for bolts.

Unfortunately, the materials required to clone Apocalypse horn were insane and even the market at Union had very limited amounts of the stuff.  Worse, the fragments didn’t even last as long as the horn did, and several of the arrowheads had crumbled into dust when she’d prepared to use them.  Not that she could, the Dark Overlord was hiding amongst his troops and she was having a demon of a time picking him out.  

Then the milling undead stopped their incessant movement for a moment as if all of them at once heard something.  Almost.  SueLeeta wasn’t as good at Perception as Jim, but she was one of the more skilled people in the army and you could see an erratic, well disguised line in the formation between the front ranks and the main force.

The good news was that even the Dark Overlord couldn’t directly control that many undead.  The problem was that the number he could control was in the order of several thousand.  She related that information down the command link as she removed the Crystal Smasher bolt and loaded up a ‘conventional’ high explosive crossbow bolt.  

***

Zorlando was unphased by the notion that the Dark Overlord could command more troopers directly than Jim could.  After all, it was to be expected.  Zorlando seldom fought in battles where the sides were even.  Only a fool would.

If Jim had the numbers, they would have marched on the evil one and struck him down directly.  

The fortification should prove decisive, assuming that the wall held.  The wall was just over 33 logs thick at the base for reasons Zorlando couldn’t quite figure out.  He, Zorlando, explained that to Jim who’d told him that was 100 feet, which was nonsense, it was a wall, but Jim was the Mayor and the Mayor occasionally spouted nonsense.  

What bothered Zorlando was what in the world was keeping the Dark Overlord from marching.  His big spell had been countered and apparently according to the caster types he couldn't generate another big node like that for hours, so he should either have pulled back further out of range or advanced.  Instead he just sat there while SueLeeta and the other adventurer archers plinked at him from range.  

It was a waste of troops which is something Zorlando couldn’t stand.  Further, the opposing commander seemed to be unusually concerned for the survival of his troops considering they were undead.  Undead troops were useful primarily because they were expendable.  

Sending in a few dozen to soak up the enemy’s long range area of attack effects before a big fight was fairly typical if one was fighting a necromancer, but those were reasonably well-equipped troops.  That didn’t make sense unless there was another shoe that was about to drop.  

Zorlando smoothed his mustache, whatever happened, it would happen soon.

***

Margwal finished adjustments to the final catapult.  Assembling all eight of them on the top of the wall was the obvious choice, but she disliked the 212 steps to get this high.  Plus the view sucked.

Now at least, she thought looking at the waves of undead.  

She sucked in on her cigar and blew out a cloud a snow-white smoke.  Father disapproved, he liked southern weed better, but she loved the sweeter eastern weed.  They’d come to an agreement when she was 16, and that was a lifetime ago.  

Quitting cold turkey sucked, but when she got to Windfall there just wasn’t anything worth smoking.  Now that trade was becoming more common, she had a nice stockpile built up, and several men willing to carefully roll up her beloved stogies.  

“How is it going?” asked Ashe, appearing from nowhere.  

“Fine, and don’t do that,” said Margwal in her sing-song, ‘I am about to kill you’ voice.  Ashe always liked to sneak up on people.  She had just gotten supernaturally good at it lately.  The fact that Margwal’s Ashe Detectorator didn’t spot her was troubling.  Ashe was figuring out how to counter Science as well as Mana and Stamina based detection schemes.  

“Everyone is getting ancy,” said Ashe as she looked around.  Margwal held her tongue, but that was Jim’s fault.  Without all his constant puma checks, no one would see danger hiding around every corner.  Now the easiest way to spot the Windfallians was to see who had their head on a swivel like Jim.  

Even her father was doing it.  

Which belatedly meant that Margwal was looking around too much.  She tried to keep her mind on her work, but this was a place for being afraid of being attacked.  Rose and Hansa were setting up a Dragon’s Roar, which apparently shot off nearly a dozen of the bitch’s dragons in one go.  

Hopefully the bitch would stay in the workshop.

Poor innocent Margwal assumed that the Progenitor was a font of wisdom and intelligence.  Instead she was just cruel and demanding.  Not the good kind of demanding either, she was never satisfied with whatever you did and would constantly take credit for your accomplishments.  

She was the kind of stepmother Margwal always feared, instead of the one they actually got.  

But she was a Progenitor and Margwal needed her knowledge.  She vowed to never be that bitch to anyone ever.  

Plus she was pretty sure the Progenitor language didn’t have a big gap between servant, assistant and slave.  Beakatrix sure treated her like one.  That was pretty much how Margwal assumed her future stepmother would treat everyone back when daddy was younger.  

He had dated a string of poor candidates for their future step mother, so much so that it poisoned the well for all future candidates.  Then came SueLeeta and the institutional hatred of wicked potential step mothers was there.  

Except, and Margwal had to grudgingly accept this, there was no basis in reality for it.  SueLeeta was nice enough, and daddy was happy around her, which should be enough for any dutiful, mature, daughter which of course she was.  

Margwal decided to double check the bearings on this catapult; she wanted to make sure it delivered the munitions with the highest possible damage.  

***

TriBlade looked around apprehensively.  His troops were solid, very solid.  Several had crossbow bolts embedded into their flesh and were still eager to fight.  They didn’t even seem to acknowledge that they were injured.  Or anything else.  

There was a distinct lack of chatter amongst the men that was starting to bother him. Every time TriBlade focused on it though, some other stray thought seemed to overcome him.  That too was starting to be bothersome, he was a focused man by nature and something didn’t quite seem right.

He pushed his eye back into the socket while he thought about it.  

Then there was a mighty boom and Grebthar yelled, “Finally.”  The great gate of Windfall collapsed as the hammer struck it one too many times.  The passage that the gateway protected was wide enough for two Falconian wagons to pass down side to side, and not even the Dark Overlord had ever breached it.  

The false Mayor’s commander was right behind the door, advancing to the spot where the gate had been.  He looked stern enough, TriBlade supposed.  Not as stern as TriBlade of course but he was at least pleased that the False Mayor actually had some powerful supporters.  You could only tell the caliber of a man through his enemies and a weak false mayor would have been a stain on his honor.  

The Dashing Dandies were arrayed behind him, and their commander looked resplendent in his golden armor.  Given that they were cosplaying as the real army, they also looked pretty good.  Their force was at least as well equipped as his own, possibly better.  TriBlade looked forward to meeting them head on.

It would be an honorable contest, TriBlade vs round shield apparently.  The large round shield with a large purple dinosaur in the middle surrounded by stars was a bit tacky if one was honest, but adventurers tended to be outlandish at the best of time.

“Get off my lawn,” bellowed Fenris, in the traditional manner.  TriBlade was going to enjoy this.  As general he prepared to respond when Grebthar chuckled.  

“What an idiot,” said the Champion of all that was good, before he flung the all powerful hammer right at the Mayor’s false general.  It was a very underhanded move, and kind of dishonorable but that hammer would kill him in one shot.  

The hammer slammed into the shield in a resounding gong that shook several bricks free from the wall.  TriBlade could feel the TriBlade quiver in its scabbard, and once again he really wished he named his sword literally anything else.  

Grebthar suggested the Slashinator, which seemed silly at the time but now whenever anyone asked about TriBlade he wasn’t sure if they were talking about him, his sword, or his also unfortunately named summer house on the northern coast.  

“You have to be kidding me,” said Grebthar as the hammer flew back to his palm and Fenris examined his shield.  

“Did you miss, or perhaps your throwing arm is tired from smashing down my gate,” yelled the Warden.  TriBlade thought Grebthar might have been able to bank the shot in a manner that would bypass the Warden’s obviously high ranked block talent and shield perks, but Grebthar was a caster anymore and his martial skills had declined significantly from his heyday.  “Perhaps try again, maybe I’ll get tired, or bored.”

“Where did you get that,” hissed the Dark Overlord.  

“Jim made it,” said Fenris. 

“Me damn it,” Grebthar growled, and flung the hammer again.  Four more times to be exact.  The first two times were relatively uninteresting with the hammer being deflected off of the impossibly hard shield.  The third time, Fenris bounced it back into the leading ranks of the army, killing six troopers who really needed to take baths.  

The fourth time, Fernis bounded the hammer back directly at Grebthar where it slammed into his liege’s face.  Grebthar stood there a moment with the hammer flattening his eye sockets to the back of his skull.  He was counting, that wasn’t a good sign.

Grebthar pulled the hammer free with a sickening slurping sound.  “Alright, fine, the Princess is beating me with a big golden wang and this one is hitting my own hammer back into my face.  Time to stop being nice.  Order the men to march, they are in position.”

***

Fenris stepped back into the passage and exhaled.  “I don’t know, bounce it back into his face,” seemed insane when Jim said it, but it worked.  Jim’s defective shield was easily at the rank of one of the Treasures of Rule, and he had better gear prepared.  Which was good because the massive army was finally marching towards them and Fenris remembered the old axiom.  

“Quantity has a quality all of its own.”

It was an old saying, but made sense here.  There were enough undead to swarm them five times over. 

“I Zorlando,” said Zorlando, “Would wait a bit more, but perhaps you think we have waited enough?”  

Fenris chuckled, eyeing the former mercenary.  He wasn’t as good at translating Zorlando’s speech as he was with Badgelor, but that approximately translated to please do the thing soon.   That’s when he realized that it was time.  Grebthar had finally committed to action, but with armies there was a bit of a time lag between the decision and the reality. 

“Almost, when the undead horde is at the walls,” said Fenris.  “The Dark Overlord has something he’s holding back.  If we don’t take out this whole army now, we’ll just be fighting it later when we are less prepared.”

“Let us hope that is true,” said Zorlando, holding his blade at the ready as the ground cooled and the undead resumed their charge.  “In the meantime, I plan on pushing them out of the passage, this is after all Windfall and I do not appreciate the undead sullying the place.”