All along the wall, knights and soldiers dropped to their knees, seizing fistfuls of dirt and trying to cram it into their ears.
The dust lessened the sound for a moment, but as the terrorgheist hurtled towards the walls, the noise became unbearable.
‘Fire the ballistae!’ cried Aurun, and the men in the towers struggled to comply, triggering their war machines as best they could while reeling from the sound.
The bolts went wide, whistling off into the clouds as the terrorgheist crashed into the battlements, hurling bone and masonry in every direction as it waded onto the top of the wall, screaming furiously at the soldiers scrambling for cover.
The monster was huge – thirty or forty feet long, with enormous leathery wings that thrashed violently as it tried to find a steady perch on the wall.
With the archers scattering, the Gravesward rushed towards the creature, raising their scythes to attack.
The monster hit them with a scream like a body blow, causing them to stumble and stagger. Most of them failed to land a blow, and those that did only hacked through flaps of dead, ragged skin.
The terrorgheist’s head lunged forwards and ripped through the knights.
Aurun stumbled through the carnage, dodging around staggering knights in his attempt to reach the monster.
This close, the scream was horrific. It felt like his head was being split open, and he struggled to see clearly, his eyes were so full of tears. There was also a nauseating smell pouring from the monster’s heaving carcass. Several of the knights near Aurun were doubled over, gagging on the foetid stink.
He reached the creature and landed a blow, slamming his scythe into its chest. The blade cut easily through the exposed ribs, but the wound had no effect. The terrorgheist did not even seem to notice him as it dropped a fresh corpse from its mouth and waded into the crush of archers and knights, locking its jaws around another man and ripping him in two.
Aurun tried to attack again, but before he could, the monster reared back and let out its loudest screech yet.
Aurun fell to his knees, deafened and in so much pain that he could not see.
Other knights collapsed all around him, helpless to defend themselves as the monster lurched forwards, ripping and tearing, filling the air with blood and howls.
The scream grew until Aurun curled into a foetal position, his muscles locked with cramp and his breath caught in his chest. His lungs burned and his oxygen-starved brain began to withdraw into itself. The cries of his men and the scream of the terrorgheist faded, becoming distant and vague, as though he were remembering his death rather than experiencing it.
Light burned into Aurun’s mind, and he mouthed a prayer, preparing to meet his ancestors. Then he realised that as the light grew, the terrorgheist’s scream was faltering. His vision was also returning. He saw that the light was not in his mind, but burning through the walls of the fortress. It was the amethyst fire of the Unburied.
His muscles loosened enough for him to breathe, and he managed to sit up and look around. All across the wall, men were struggling to rise as the scream dropped away, but rather than attacking, they were staring up in shock.
The Morn-Prince was circling overhead.
He still had his scythe raised, and he had been transformed by the Unburied. Their fire had leapt from the walls of the fortress and ignited his armour. He was burning with the power of the ancestors.
Prince Volant lashed out with his scythe, and purple light ripped through the air, slamming into the terrorgheist’s face.
The monster fell backwards, pounding its wings, trying to right itself as amethyst fire drummed into its flesh, engulfing it in sparks and smoke.
The terrorgheist launched itself from the wall and locked its jaws on the neck of Volant’s steed. The winged goliaths looped and dived, screaming and roaring as they tore at each other.
‘The walls!’ cried Aurun as dozens of figures poured over the battlements. He cursed when he realised that whatever happened to the terrorgheist now, it had done its job. While it kept his men occupied, the mordants had scaled the walls and were now pouring into the fortress.
He rallied the knights nearest to him and led a charge, howling as he cut down the first mordant to reach him.
It was frenzied and desperate. The mordants clawed at the knights like animals, and there were so many of them, flooding onto the walls with a roar of snarls and grunts.
Aurun staggered backwards, swiping, hacking and slipping on blood. The knights around him fought with the same furious, silent determination and managed to hold their ground until a massive shape crashed down beside them, sending a violent tremor through the walls and causing everyone to stagger.
Aurun dragged himself clear of the scrum, up onto the battlements, and saw that the two winged monsters had crashed to the ground.
Volant slammed onto the wall and rolled away as his steed collapsed and fell in the other direction.
The terrorgheist leant back and opened its bloody jaws, preparing to scream again, but Volant’s armour was still ablaze with the power of his ancestors, and he hurled it from his scythe.
The terrorgheist’s head jolted back, and as it tried to shake away the flames, Prince Volant dived across the wall and sank the full length of his curved blade into the monster’s skull.
The creature jolted upwards, trying to fling the prince away, but he gripped the haft of his scythe and yanked it down, splitting its head in two.
Archers and Gravesward cheered as the terrorgheist crashed to the ground, juddered, then lay still.
The Morn-Prince turned to face his men, light still shining from his black armour. He held his scythe aloft, trailing strands of blood from the blade, and his men howled even louder.
‘The Unburied are with us!’ cried Prince Volant. ‘Now and forever. And when this battle is–’
His words became a pained cough and he stumbled forwards.
Then he dropped to his knees, revealing the figure standing behind him. It was a mordant, and it was gripping a bloodstained shard of iron as long as its arm. It stood over the prince, panting hungrily, about to pounce on him, but dozens of arrows kicked it backwards through the air, sending it hurtling from the battlements.
‘To the prince!’ howled Aurun, running through the battle and climbing up the terrorgheist’s corpse.
Gravesward formed a circle around Volant, holding back waves of mordants.
As the flesh-eaters continued tumbling onto the wall in great crowds, swamping the fortress’ defenders, Lord Aurun dropped to Prince Volant’s side and grabbed his bloody armour.
At first he thought the prince was dead, but then Volant coughed, spraying blood through the mouth grille of his helmet.
He managed to sit up and grab Aurun’s arm. ‘We’ve lost the gatehouse. Can you hold the wall?’
Aurun nodded, then glanced around. ‘No,’ he admitted. He was determined to show the same fortitude as the prince, but he could not deny what he was seeing. Thanks to the terrorgheist, the mordants were flowing freely over the battlements. As well as the ones climbing over the embrasures, there were some with wings, like smaller versions of the terrorgheist’s mighty pinions. There was no way to use the oil or war machines. ‘The walls are lost.’
He thought the prince would be outraged, but he simply nodded, pulling Aurun closer. ‘Get your men to the Unburied. I need time to think.’ He coughed and stiffened in pain, then grabbed Aurun again, his voice growing more steady. ‘Fight every inch of the way.’
Chapter Thirteen
The Victory Feast
‘What happened to us?’ asked Queen Nia. She was seated at King Galan’s side, at the head of the feast. Lords Miach and Melvas looked up at her words, but Galan knew she was talking to him. The war had ignited something in her soul. Her tiredness was gone, her bitterness forgotten. She looked wonderful – twenty years younger and flushed with pride. The firelight flashed in her glistening eyes, and he realised he could not remember the last time she had looked at him with such passion and focus.