Book 3: Chapter 18

Book 3: Chapter 18

Launched from high above, the charged hair raced through the darkness. Arriving at the statue like a ghost, unseen, it pierced into Agma-Yoth's thick mental energy. Though Garrett's mental energy was outclassed by the strength of Agma-Yoth's, the concentrated attack began to penetrate the thick barrier, slowing drastically. Just as it looked like it wouldn't make it all the way through, Paskal's palm landed on the same exact spot, and all of his power was forced through the tiny gap that Garrett had made. Though barely a sliver of his strength touched the statue, it was enough, and the dark wood shattered, filling the air with a bloody scent.

A fierce roar of rage seemed to rise from deep underground, filling the air and silencing the battlefield for a moment. Terrible fear filled everyone who heard it, and Paskal trembled, yet a moment later, madness seemed to overtake him, and he let out a roar of his own, shaking off the influence that had seeped into his gang's hearts.

"Fight! If you don't want to die, fight!"

His yell brought renewed vigor to the gang, and they threw themselves forward with wild abandon. Paskal turned his gaze to the necromancer, who was trying to drag himself away, leaving a bloody trail from the stump. A low growl escaped his throat, and he pounced forward, intending to crush the life out of the robed man once and for all. Yet before he could, a powerful-looking zombie with white bone-like calcifications threw itself in the way, taking the strike and falling back. Though Paskal's blow had broken many of its bones, causing its stomach to rupture and organs to dribble out onto the ground, the zombie lurched back to its feet and threw itself toward him once more.

All over the battlefield, these zombies began to appear, and worse yet, they seemed to have appeared in the middle of the Brass Tiger Syndicate's battle line. Unsure of what was going on, Paskal scowled and looked around. It was then that he heard Joseph's faint voice over the din of the battlefield.

Theyre coming up from the sewers!

Swearing fiercely. Paskal darted back towards the line where his men fought. He would have to spare the necromancer's life for the moment. With a fierce shout, he hammered one of his fists into a calcified zombie, transforming it into a splash of blood and viscera that flew up into the air. Sensing an attack coming towards him from behind, he spun, his palm meeting a long curved dagger that stabbed his back. The attacker fell back after the unsuccessful strike, her hood falling to reveal a pretty face. With an appreciative eye completely unsuited for the bloody battlefield they were on, Delrisa looked over the leader of the Brass Tiger Syndicate.

"I didn't realize the Klein Family had such handsome minions," she said, "and strong too."

Confusion filled Paskal's face, but instead of engaging her in conversation, he launched an attack, forcing her back. With a laugh, she engaged him in battle, dancing away from each of his blows and using her zombies to block his advance. Across the battlefield, the wounded necromancer had dragged himself into a corner, his face white with pain and blood loss. Faint green energy crawled through his eyes as he began to mumble under his breath, hoping to activate his transformation. The pain made it hard, but he fought through it. Just as he was about to finish his spell, he heard a voice that sent a shiver down his spine.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I can let you do that."

Shock raced through him as hair seemed to appear from the wall behind him, wrapping around his throat. His mumbles were cut off as it squeezed down, choking the air from him. With scrabbling hands, he tried to pull it off, but the hair continued to tighten until, with a faint crack, his neck snapped and the life faded from his eyes.

The death of the necromancer caused the zombies that had been under his control to begin to lag as the command that drove them vanished. Delrisa, fighting against Paskal, was the first to notice this and realized that her necromancer companion had died. A fierce shout broke from her lips, but the tide of the battle was already beginning to shift. It was one thing to face up against a horde of zombies in a focused, unified attack, and entirely another to face off against zombies who attacked slowly and milled about in every direction. The confusion among the enemy forces allowed the Brass Tiger Syndicate to regain their footing.

Re-establishing their defensive line and focusing their efforts on fighting against the calcified zombies under Delrisa's control, it also bought Paskal the focus he needed to intensify his attack against Delrisa. Fury seemed to bubble up around Delrisa, and she attempted to fall back, but Paskal was not about to let her. He threw himself forward, unleashing strike after strike at her. Eventually, one clipped her shoulder, crushing her bones and sending her tumbling. All of this Garrett watched from the shadows, making sure to stay well hidden. He was currently controlling Isabelle, and her ability to blend with the darkness was strong. Between her ability to hide and her ability to pass through reflective surfaces, he was able to monitor the battle without trouble.

So far, Paskal and the Brass Tiger Syndicate were doing well, better in fact than he had thought they would do, and that suited his plan just perfectly. His intent was ultimately to crush the Syndicate, eliminating the rival gang, but he needed them to last long enough to blunt Agma-Yoths main attack. This necromancer, and the zombies he controlled, had been only the first of dozens that were headed this direction, funneled north by the fierce defense the grave walkers and the Klein Family awakened had mounted at the southern wall of the royal graveyard. There were well over 4,000 zombies currently being pushed north to this gap, and in Garrett's plan, it was Paskal and the Brass Tiger Syndicate who would plug it, facing the full brunt of the enemy assault. His hope was that this would crush their strength, ultimately removing them as competitors, however, he also couldn't allow them to fall too fast, which is why he had deployed Isabelle to monitor the situation carefully.

Paskal didn't react, all of his focus fixed on the fight. He threw strike after strike, but couldn't so much as touch the tip of her ears as she danced away. Still, the Brass Tiger Syndicate was holding well, and for every one of their members that fell, dozens of zombies were killed. With fewer and fewer zombies on the field, it was getting easier for them to gang up and slay the zombies that came forward. But all of that changed when a fresh group of zombies covered in green pustules raced from the shadows at the end of the street.

A fat necromancer who wore a dark robe but no hood stomped forward, leaving a trail of slime behind him as the open sores on his body dripped to the ground.

"Looks like you're having trouble, Delrisa," he bellowed, spit flying from his fat lips.

Flashing backwards, Delrisa hissed at him, and the man recoiled, realizing only now that she had transformed into a Lord of the Night.

"Be careful how you speak to me, Zazor," Delrisa hissed.

"Yes, Lord Delrisa," Zazor said, bowing his head quickly. "Allow me to assist you."

Paskal, who was breathing heavily, saw that another necromancer was going to enter the fight, along with a new batch of zombies, and his face fell. Delrisa was already too much to deal with, and adding reinforcements was going to make things even harder. With a sinister, merciless laugh, Delrisa pointed a finger at Paskal.

"I will peel your skin from your body and make you watch as all of your men are forced to serve Lesrak," she said, her cloak billowing out behind her like two bat wings.

With a shriek, she launched herself forward towards Paskal, forcing him to block with two powerful strikes that shook the air. Zipping to the side, Delrisa landed on the side of a building, one of her hands stabbing deep into the stone, allowing her to hang there for a second. Zazor, the slime-covered necromancer, bellowed out a command, and all of his zombies lurched forward. As he strode towards Paskal, the leader of the Brass Tiger Syndicate didn't know who he should focus his attention on.

Delrisa was about to launch another attack when suddenly, a faint sense of danger surrounded her, and she heard a light voice speaking in her ear.

"You know, you'd look a lot better if you had hair."

Startled, she whipped around, her hands hacking at the hair that was shooting towards her. At the last moment, it pulled back, rising out of range of her strike, even as she destroyed the wall she was hanging on. As she began to fall towards the ground, Delrisa looked up and saw a lady floating above her, on the top of the building. Long hair stretched in all directions, and a barely visible smile hung on the woman's beautiful lips. She could see the pale bare feet peeking from beneath the dressing gown the spirit wore, and a shriek tore from Delrisa's lips.

"You! Why are you here?"

"I'm here for you, my dear," Isabelle replied. "You've been using my mirrors, and it's time to pay the price."