But they couldn't. They still had comrades, oblivious to the slaughter erupting just a few yards ahead, pushing through the breach behind them and bottling them in.
Their officers and sergeants realized it, and that the only possible way out of the trap was forward. They bellowed commands and their soldiers rushed the barricades.
Kemas dropped his bow and snatched out his sword just in time to parry the thrust of a spear. The Fire Drake on his left swung his mace and bashed in the spearman's skull.
Kemas returned the favor mere moments later, dispatching an axeman who was pressing his comrade hard. Up and down the line and on all three sides of the killing box, men roared and screamed, struck, defended, and fell.
A moment came when Kemas didn't have a foe within reach. It was then that, panting and wiping stinging sweat from his eyes, he spied Bareris.
True to his word, the bard was fighting alone in the midst of the foe. His sword was bloody from point to hilt, and a sort of haze shrouded his body. The blur no doubt made him more difficult to target and was evidence that he wasn't entirely suicidal. But it surely couldn't protect him from the foes driving in from every side, and Kemas was certain he was about to die.
But then the opponents in front of Bareris faltered as though abruptly afraid to engage. That too must be the result of one of his songs. He ran at the men he'd cursed, and they recoiled. The unnatural terror evidently hadn't caught hold of the soldiers to the rear and on his flanks, and they struck at him but missed. He reached one of the barricades, and recognizing him for an ally, the Fire Drakes behind it helped him clamber to the other side.
At that point, Kemas glimpsed motion from the corner of his eye and remembered that his own safety was likewise at issue. He hastily faced straight ahead and beheld the zombies shambling toward him.
From the moment the wall burst open until then, he hadn't been scared, perhaps because he hadn't had time to think. But it was as if the brief respite he'd enjoyed had given dread fresh purchase on his spirit, or maybe it was simply the withered, decaying faces of the walking dead that stabbed fear into his heart and loosened his guts.
He reminded himself of what Bareris had told him. A living warrior could defeat a zombie. He just had to cut it to pieces.
Somewhere overhead, a priest chanted a prayer, and three zombies burst into flame before they could reach the barricades. Unfortunately, the creature stalking straight at Kemas wasn't one of them.
It moved slowly, though, and that enabled him to strike first. His sword bit deep into the zombie's neck. Had it been alive, the stroke would have killed it, but its black, slimy lips didn't even twitch, nor did it falter. Reeking of corruption, it heaved its axe over its head, then swept it down in an awkward but powerful blow. Kemas twisted aside to keep it from splitting his head in two.
He pulled on his sword and it stuck, possibly caught between two vertebrae. Its head flopping on its shoulders, the corpse-thing lifted the axe for another try. Kemas gripped the hilt with both hands, heaved with all his might, and the blade jerked free.
He cut at one of the zombie's upraised hands. His sword lopped off fingers, and the axe fell out of the dead man's grasp. He took another swing at its neck and hacked deeper. The creature toppled forward and wound up draped over the barricade. Kemas was reluctant to touch the filthy thing, but it was in the way, and so he gripped its shoulder and shoved it off onto the ground. It was only then that he felt a surge of elation at having bested it.
He started to smile. Then, hunched forward, gut-tentacles writhing and lashing, the vilewight appeared among the autharch's troops. Despite the press, the legionnaires scrambled to clear a path for it.
The undead's sunken eyes burned brighter, and its fanged mouth sneered. It extended a gnarled, long-fingered hand, and a shaft of darkness leaped from the tips of the jagged talons. It blazed across a portion of the barricade, and the men it washed over collapsed, their bodies rotting.
Priests chanted. Fire leaped up around the vilewight but guttered out instantly, leaving it unburned. Archers loosed their shafts. Some pierced the dead thing's flesh, but the creature didn't even appear to notice.
It pointed its hand again. Another flare of shadow cut into the ranks of the defenders. Meanwhile, one of the warriors slain by the previous attack lurched up onto his knees, threw his arms around the legs of a live man, and sank his teeth into his thigh. A second dead Fire Drake clambered up off the ground.
Kemas realized that if spells and missiles weren't working, someone needed to get in close to the vilewight and tear it apart. Otherwise it would keep hurling sprays of shadow, killing Fire Drakes, and transforming their corpses into undead slaves until the survivors could no longer hold the barricades. Unfortunately, it looked as if even the temple's bravest protectors feared to approach the creature.
But Kemas had forgotten the man who seemingly cared nothing for his own well-being. Bareris vaulted back over the barricade and charged the vilewight.
Had they chosen, the autharch's living soldiers could have intercepted the bard, surrounded him, and cut him down. But perhaps they too feared to come too close to the vilewight, or maybe they were simply confident of its prowess, for they chose to orient on other foes.
The vilewight cast a blaze of darkness. Bareris sprang to one side, and the leaping shadow missed. He shouted, a boom loud and startling as a thunderclap, and his cry split the undead's leprous hide and knocked it staggering. The bard rushed in and cut at its torso.
At the same moment, someone among the enemy yelled a command, and the legionnaires renewed their assault on the barricades. It seemed to Kemas that they didn't attack as fiercely as before. Now that their lord had brought his most powerful weapon into play, they expected it to turn the tide of battle, and saw no reason to take extraordinary chances while it did its work.
Still, they fought hard enough that for a while, Kemas didn't dare look at anything but the space and the foes immediately in front of him. Finally the pressure eased. He peered back at Bareris and the vilewight, and gasped.
During the first moments of the duel, it had appeared that Bareris was a match for his foe, and maybe he had been, but if so, Lady Luck had turned her face from him. He was unsteady on his feet and had switched his sword to his offhand because his dominant arm dangled torn and useless at his side. It looked as if gut-tentacles had bitten him both above and below the elbow, and he'd ripped the wounds larger by pulling free.
He'd landed more than one slash in return, but it hadn't made any difference to the lithe, pouncing manner in which his adversary circled, feinted, and struck. The bloodless cuts didn't seem to trouble it any more than the arrows hanging from its flesh like a porcupine's quills.
It sprang in, clawed hands raking, lengths of intestine striking like adders. Bareris dropped low, beneath the attacks, and tried to slice its leg out from under it. He scored but failed to cut deeply enough to make the vilewight fall. At once it twisted and stooped to threaten him anew. It caught the sword in its fingers, allowing the edge to bite in order to immobilize it, and reached for the griffon rider with its gut-tentacles. The rings of lamprey fangs gaped wide.
For an instant, Bareris strained to pull his weapon free, but his left arm wasn't strong enough. He relinquished his grip and flung himself backward to avoid the gut-serpents. As he scrambled to his feet, he snatched a dagger from his boot.
The vilewight regarded the smaller blade, and its jagged leer stretched wider. It knew Bareris no longer had any hope of defeating it. Not alone, and if any of the Fire Drakes was brave enough to go to his aid, that dauntless warrior was busy with other foes.