The Broken Pieces(42)

“I don’t think you understand,” Cyric said. “But you are acting out of loyalty to your king, and such loyalty is admirable. Loyalty is a trait sorely lacking in this age, so for that, I will reward you. I will let you see your fate if you continue to deny me my rightful place.”

He made a motion with his hand, and the wolf-men behind him parted.

“What’s going on?” Alex asked, and then he gasped, seeing it a fraction of a second before Brute. Walking through the lines, overshadowed by the hulking wolf-men, were pale-faced men and women. They shambled forward, limbs stiff, eyes locked ahead. Over a hundred of them in number, and when Cyric called out for them to kneel, they did. Their clothes were torn, their necrotic flesh covered with claw marks and missing thick chunks where they’d been bitten.

“Do you see?” Cyric asked. “The village of Bellham has been made pure. The weakness in it is gone, the divisiveness of serving two gods in one community ended. The murderers, the rapists, the heartless, the heathens; they all have been made to serve. Those who remain behind have loyal hearts, and will serve in the new nation I’ll create. One nation, from east to west, full of loyalty. Full of faith. We have allowed men to sin, to fail, and to condemn themselves for an eternity. It was wrong of us. It was weak to let children suffer the fire for their own failures, all under the guise of choice and fairness. Open your gates, and kneel. Confess your faith, whether it is born anew tonight, or has been in your hearts since your childhood days. All of you, kneel before Karak made flesh. Serve in life, or serve in death. Dezrel shall be made pure, one way or the other, for I shall have my paradise.”

“Paradise?” breathed Brute as he stared at the walking dead. Beside him, Alex let out a cry, and he looked ready to collapse.

“Don’t you kneel on me, boy,” Brute said, grabbing him by the shoulder.

“No,” he said, shaking his head as tears ran down his face. “I’ll never. That’s my family there. Don’t you see? That’s them.”

He was pointing into the rows of the dead. Brute felt his innards twist.

“That’s not them,” Brute said. “That’s not. That’s just a corpse, a shell, an empty thing. Be proud of them for staying strong till the end. They’re safe from him now, as will we be. As will we all.” Turning to Cyric, he shouted, his rage never before higher. “Send your wolves. Send your dead. Not a knee will bow on this wall.”

Cyric shook his head as if disappointed, but he was grinning.

“I could strike you down from where I stand…but my wolves are hungry.” He turned to his wolf-men. “Kill all but the man who leads them. I would have him humbled before he dies.”

The wolf-man standing beside Cyric let out a howl, and with that the charge began. Brute readied his ax, baffled as to what they planned to do. They had no ladders, no siege towers. Did they hope to tear down the wall with their bare claws? Or was the priest powerful enough to smash open a gap with his magic? A red hue shone around them, and all of their claws flared as if with a great heat. Brute knew they would be terrifying to face in combat, but they would face no combat with the wall standing…

And then the wolf-men leapt, hundreds of them, slamming into the side of the wall and digging in with their burning claws. The stone gave way, the claws piercing it as if it were butter. All around, Brute heard his men cry out in fear. Like spiders they climbed, or cats up a tree. The wall was nothing. Castles, towers, gates…nowhere in Dezrel would be safe, not from them. Brute prepared to swing his ax as he cried out an order, canceling his initial idea to retreat when the walls were breached. They’d be overrun before they ever reached the tower door.

The first wolf to poke his head over the edge received Brute’s ax through his skull. Brute let out a roar. They might have been blessed with unholy magic, but they were still mortal. There might be hope in Dezrel after all. Another tried climbing over, and Brute smashed his face in. All around his men stood firm, and his heart swelled with pride. Every second, he thought, every second was precious. Beside him, Alex stabbed a wolf-man through the eye, then fell as two more hurled themselves over the ramparts. Their claws shredded his flesh. Brute flung himself at them, severing in half the spine of one. The second lashed out, and it knocked the ax from his hand.

Strong paws clutched at his arms, and he screamed as he felt teeth lock around his neck, holding him in place. Like an unstoppable river the wolf-men flowed over the wall, overwhelming the last of his men. He struggled, but now three of the creatures held him down. He bled from their claws and teeth, but only superficially. None of it would be fatal. They’d leave that to their master.