Brin gripped his spear, waiting for the gates to come down. After the battle yesterday, the town had retreated behind the walls and the undead had been hacking at them ever since. Even Bog Standard gates had limits, and they were about to hit theirs.

“[Carpenters] and laborers hang back. Infantry, steady. Archers, ready,” Kevim shouted. As the only surviving member of the town council with any combat experience, he was the de facto leader of the town. It was a miracle that the leader of the [Hunters] hadn’t been taken by the curse, having taken the only [Hunter] higher-level than him instead. He was doing well enough as near as Brin could tell, but he was no Prefit Elmon.

The thumping continued, undead axes against the other side of the wall. From this side, they looked perfectly fine, but he knew that couldn’t be the case. The undead had been chopping at the walls all through the night without tiring. At first, the town had put [Hunters] on the towers to pick them off, but the undead had responded with swarms of arrows in return, and the [Hunters] had been forced to retreat. No one voiced the opinion that they should charge out of the gates and try to whittle the enemy down again, not now that they were missing all their best fighters. Now, the game was all about survival. They would meet the undead after the gates fell, and only long enough to drive them back so the laborers could replace them.

The logs and beams were cut and placed in carts. The workers held their tools, ready to go. All they needed was the space to work in.

Until the gates fell, all they could do was stand and wait, listening to the steady thunks. It had been strange, to go to bed with that sound in the air, in a house that felt so empty without Marksi or Hogg. He had slept; he’d needed it. He’d slept like a baby, and nearly missed the rallying cry for the defense.

The first chunk of wood was pulled away, and all at once the ghastly pale face of an undead peered through the door of the gate. An arrow immediately struck it in the forehead, followed by a dozen more.

A pike-holding [Candlemaker] stepped forward, no doubt to jab his long weapon through the opening. Kevim shouted, “Infantry stand back! Let them all the way through before pushing them back out!”

As if in response, a black arrow came through the hole in the wall, hitting the shield of a defender.

The defenders waited, holding back, and the chopping resumed. The undead were staying clear of the holes they made, but the more of the gate they tore down, the less they had to hide behind, and the archers picked off a few more.

Davi began to play his music, and Brin felt his courage rising, and felt clear understanding on what he was supposed to do. After Brin had left, it had been Davi that rallied the troops. He’d apparently learned a lot from his short time shadowing Jeffrey; and besides, Davi was a person who’d read a thousand battles. He’d known what needed to be done, and he’d acted in time to make it happen. He’d used his music to send instructions to the defenders, and formed a capable defense until one of the Lantern-men took charge. Brin had only joined the very end of the battle as the defenders made an ordered retreat back into town. No one had accused him of cowardice from running off earlier. He didn’t think anyone had even noticed him leave.

Now Davi played a simple marching tune, but from the look of concentration on his face Brin thought he was probably sending different motivations to the three different groups, which wasn’t simple at all.

All at once the rest of the gate fell inwards, and the undead rushed forwards. Black clad ax-wielders ran in front. There was no expression on their faces, as if they were bored by this whole experience. Or rather, as if they were already dead.

The front line of defenders were the best of what Hammon’s Bog had left. A Lantern-man threw a tree trunk straight into the oncoming line, which smashed through them and into the crowd of undead behind. A wave of water splashed more undead to the side and then Zilly’s dad threw his artillery-coal into the grouped-up attackers. It exploded, flinging limbs in every direction and clearing an area on the other side of the gate.

[Farmers] holding greatshields with both hands and no weapons poured through the opening, creating a line and pushing it outwards. More men with weapons filled in the space between them as the ring expanded. As many defenders as could get through the gate charged in after them, and soon Brin found himself running over the bloody ground, through the gate and into the battlefield.

In no time he was on the front line, shield forward and spear to the side. [Inspect] told him that the undead soldier headed for him had a really nasty downwards chop, but it was only level 16, so after that it would be an easy kill. All he had to do was dodge the chop–but he couldn’t do that.

The Prefit’s lesson the other day hadn’t been a metaphor. He had allies behind him and to both sides. He couldn’t dodge.

He raised his shield, and took the chop straight on. The powerful strike knocked him to his knees, left his shield-arm numb, but it didn’t push him back. He stepped up and forward, lashing out with his spear and stabbing the undead in the stomach. It wasn’t enough to kill the thing, and it wound up for another chop, so Brin pushed [Shape Glass] into his spearhead and detonated it.

There was a muted thump, and the undead slumped to the ground.

Alert!

You have defeated: Undead Soldier [16]

Due to level disparity, less experience will be rewarded.