About that time, one Wizard appeared to be up to something. It was a tall, emaciated man that looked like a walking cadaver, wearing black robes and carrying a black steel rod. He rose it up and began to chant in a strong voice, and it was apparent from the shocked looks on the faces of the Sorcerers that this was magic they couldn't counter. When the realization that this was the one that rose all the undead that Darvon's men were currently fighting reached through the lines, there was a sudden tension on their side. But the Knights and Vendari were too seasoned, too well trained to run away. They simply prepared themselves to face a newly populated force with plenty of undead. But when they realized that the dead on their side had been carried off the field, behind the lines, there was a sudden panicked call to decapitate all the dead before they woke up to attack them from behind.
Kang swore. If they raised all the dead, his forces would be surrounded!
For several seconds, it hung there, dead silence except for the chanting of the thin Wizard. But then a strangled cry issued forth from beyond the fence, then another, and then another, and the thin Wizard suddenly stopped chanting, and it was apparent that he didn't do it because the spell was over. A figure exploded from the ranks of the men around the thin man, a man wearing armor that was polished so much that it shone brilliantly in the noontime sun, almost like polished silver. The Wizard seemed to recoil from the armored warrior in the worst way, looking to be in total terror of the man, and then he turned to run from him. But the armored warrior moved with blazing speed, was upon him in five steps, and slashed that sword down the back of the Wizard. The Wizard shrieked in agony, fell to the ground and writhed in intense pain, trying to reach behind him to the wound. A wound that, Kang saw when he climbed atop the palisade and watched, bled with such profusion that it had to be unnatural. The armored figure stood over him, cackling in glee, then sliced him again on the side, then again on the arm, then again on the leg, light wounds, little more than scratches, that bled so liberally that it looked like the blood was fountaining out of the man like a geyser. Absolute silence swept over the field, except for the cackling of the man and the screams of the Wizard.
"Jegojah, he knew the Sorcerers would block yer magic, yes," the armored man hissed in delight. "Does it hurt, Kravon? Promised ye, Jegojah did, that Jegojah would bleed ye and watch ye die. Oh, and promised, Jegojah did, to cut ye for the Were-cat." He put a boot on the Wizard's neck to stop his thrashing, then dropped the tip of his sword down and, quite deliberately, raked it across the eyes of the Wizard, putting them out. "Now then, Jegojah hopes that ye don't die too quickly. Too long has Jegojah waited to avenge himself against ye, yes. Entertain Jegojah, Wizard, before we both go on to our final reward."
The wizard thrashed on the ground with his hands over his face, blood spewing from between his fingers like a crimson waterfall. As they all watched, Vendari, Knight, ki'zadun, Sorcerer, and Wizard alike, the thrashing and convulsions of the man on the ground grew weaker and weaker as a pool of red formed around him, soaking into the cobblestones of the street. The man's pale skin became pale white, and he moved with only the feeblest jerks, whimpering incoherently. And then he moved no more. The blood stopped flowing, flesh turning gray, and Kang realized with some reserve that somehow, every drop of blood had been leeched out of the man's body.
There was only the cackling laughter of the armored man, and that abruptly stopped. The man saluted the defenders with his sword and called to them. "Tell the Were-cat that Jegojah got their man," he said to them. "Tell him that Jegojah, he wishes him good luck and Gods' speed on his journey. Tell him that Jegojah bids farewell."
And then the man simply collapsed.
They watched his body crumple to the ground, and nobody did anything for a very long moment. And then, like a sudden tide, all the Wizards on the far side of the field turned and began to run away. Seeing their Wizards break, the footsoldiers turned and fled back over the ditch, back out of the breached fence, running without formation or discipline out into the city. It was a rout.
The strange armored man had somehow broke the spirit of their enemies! That must have been one of their leaders!
The defenders gave out a great cry of victory, but Kang knew that it wasn't over yet. He quickly ordered his troops to chase the fleeing enemies, to make sure they didn't regroup and attempt another assault.
But that was only the finishing touches on what had been a long, intense battle, the battle the likes of of which Kang had never thought to be a part. A battle for the history books.
A battle they had won.
The enthusiasm didn't exist at the Fountain of the Swans.
Anchored by a warehouse on one side and a large inn on the other, the Arakites formed an anchor to which the rest of the defenders clung, forming a shield wall to hold back the terrifying masses of undead warriors as they strove to break through. The undead fought with and without weapons, those without seeking to drag men out of the lines and into their numbers, where they would be torn apart. The defenders fought furiously to hold the lines and prevent themselves from being dragged out to their doom, as the mindless undead pressed up against the interlocked shields of the Arakite Legions as men behind pushed them away with pikes and spears, trying to drive them through the heads of their enemies
Darvon was in the middle of it, using a pike to push away undead pulling at the shields of the Arakites, men literally being held in place by the Ungardt and Centaurs to prevent the undead from grabbing the edges of the shields and drag the men out to where they could be rent apart. Things could have been alot worse, if Jenna hadn't killed at least a thousand of them with magic that cut through them like a scythe, decapitating a mess of them at once. The Ward that contained the others made their numbers at least managable, but that had been all that Jenna could muster. She was sitting unceremonoiusly on the ground about twenty spans behind the lines along with the Keeper and the other Sorcerers, who were all completely drained. There would be no more magical assistance from them, but they had already done more than enough to give them a fighting chance. Darvon returned to the grim task of pushing back undead, many of them wearing the uniforms of the Arakites and the Sulasians, bodies hijacked to fight for the other side.
There was a scream to his left, and one of the Arakites was pulled into the writhing mass of undead, his screams cut brutally short as he was torn to pieces. Undead suddenly surged into the hole the man had occupied, and for a terrifying moment, Darvon thought that they were going to break the line. The Arakites struggled to close the hole, but too many of their undead enemies had taken up the space he'd occupied. One brave Ungardt bodily slammed into the undead, using his great height and size to bull them out of the hole, but paid for it when the undead grabbed hold of him and dragged him past the Arakites. Darvon saw that the man had saved them from having the line breached, but he was about to pay for it with his life.
But something odd happened. All the undead seemed to shudder, all at once… and then they all fell to the ground.
The Ungardt that had saved the line stood out there, all by himself, about a span in front of the startled lines, looking around in confusion. But all the undead had fallen to the ground, and none of them were moving.
Darvon blinked. Had the magic that created them expired? One of the Arakites jabbed at the corpse of a Dargu with his spear, but it didn't move. None of them moved.
The defenders held the line, wary that they would all get up again, but it didn't happen. They stayed in formation, muttering amongst themselves in a nervous kind of anticipation for long moments, ready if the bodies moved again.
But they didn't.
An Aeradalla landed behind the lines, and was quickly rushed over to Darvon. The winged woman saluted him sharply, out of breath and obviously excited. "The troops at the Tower have repulsed the humans trying to break in!" she announced. "They killed the enemy commanders and captured the magical device that made all the bodies move, Lord General Darvon. The enemy troops are running away!"