Chương 21: Hero's Death

The castle courtyard was filled swirling white snow. Up on the stone balcony, Jack was holding onto the railing. His eyes were wide open, but visibility was almost zero. He could not see Bones or Rusty. He could only feel them through the threads anchored in his chest. Down in the storm, the two armored skeletons were moving. They were moving slowly through the gale toward the Wind Mage, but the swirling magical winds were a massive obstacle. Every step they took required an immense amount of Jack's focus.

While the main battle was stalled in the center of the courtyard, a much quieter, deadlier threat was moving through the blinding snow. Five desperate bandits had used the low visibility of the blizzard to slip past Giles and the militia. They were moving along the outer stone wall of the castle, their heads lowered against the wind. They were not heading toward the gates. They were heading straight for the doors of the Great Hall. Inside the Great Hall, the atmosphere was heavy with fear.

A massive fire was in the stone hearth, but it did not bring comfort. A large group of women, children, and elderly villagers were on the floor, huddled together for warmth and safety. A heavy wooden bar was across the brackets of the main double doors, sealing them inside. Karen was in the center of the room. A small wooden bucket of warm water was in her hands. She was moving from family to family, offering water and trying to keep the panic from taking over.

"Drink a little, sweetie," Karen whispered, kneeling beside a young mother. A little girl was in the woman's arms, her face buried in her mother's wool coat. The child was crying softly, her small shoulders shaking with every loud crash from outside.

"Is the door really strong enough?" the young mother asked. Her voice was barely a whisper. Absolute fear was in her wide eyes.

"I heard the explosion earlier. They have mages. If they burn the door down..."

"The door is very thick, and the iron bar is heavy," Karen said, forcing a brave smile onto her face. She reached out, gently stroking the little girl's hair.

"Lord Jack will not let them in. His mages are out there right now, fighting them back. You saw them. They are giants. We are safe in here." Old Miller's wife was sitting nearby. A wool shawl was over her head.

"But what if they get past the lord's mages?" she muttered, her hands tightly clasping a wooden holy symbol.

"There are so many of them. And they are starving. Starving men don't fear death."

"Giles and the militia are out there too," Karen said firmly. She stood up, looking around the large, nervous crowd.

"Our men are fighting for our food and our homes. We must stay strong for them. Keep the children away from the doors. Move closer to the hearth." THUD. A violent sound was suddenly at the main doors. The entire room went dead silent. The crackling of the fire was the only noise in the hall. THUD. CRACK. It was the unmistakable sound of an iron axe striking wood. A collective scream was in the air. The villagers scrambled backward, pushing away from the entrance. Karen dropped her wooden bucket.

The warm water was all over the floor. Her heart hammered against her ribs.

"They are at the door!" an old man yelled, grabbing a piece of firewood from the hearth as a makeshift weapon.

"The bandits are at the door!" CRASH. The heavy iron hinges groaned. A jagged splinter of wood was suddenly visible on the inside of the door. The bandits were hacking their way through. Up on the balcony, Jack heard a sound that chilled him to the bone. Even through the howling wind of the blizzard, the faint, terrified screams of the villagers echoed from the courtyard below. He squinted through the swirling white snow, his eyes darting toward the Great Hall.

Through a brief break in the storm, he caught the dark silhouettes of men swinging an axe against the heavy oak doors.

"No," Jack gasped, a fresh line of blood leaking from his nose. He tried to pull Bones or Rusty away from the Wind Mage to defend the hall. But the moment he shifted their mental commands, the magical gale pushed the armored skeletons backward. If he broke their forward movement, the Wind Mage would tear the castle apart and slaughter the entire militia. He could not move them. The bandits were going to break into the hall. They were going to slaughter the women and children.

"I have to..." Jack wheezed, his fingers digging into his own chest. He had unlinked his other skeletons earlier to save his strength. He was already at his absolute spiritual breaking point from the elemental static of the blizzard. If he opened another link now, the strain would be catastrophic. He closed his eyes, bypassed the pain, and reached his mind violently down into the deep crypts beneath the castle. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

He grabbed a single, dormant thread. It was Dusty. Dusty was still wearing his heavy chainmail and iron bucket-helm down in the crypt. Jack knew that animating a third heavily armored giant with his currently damaged core was practically suicide. The mental weight would be devastating.

"But if I do nothing, everyone in that hall dies," Jack thought, his heart pounding against his ribs.

"Awake!" Jack roared in his mind, forcing a massive, reckless surge of death mana down the link. The spiritual backlash was instantaneous. He coughed violently. A dark mouthful of blood was on the balcony. His vision went completely black for a fraction of a second, but he refused to let go of the thread. Down in the crypts, the armored figure of Dusty snapped to attention.

"To the Great Hall! Sprint!" Jack commanded in a frantic voice. Inside the hall, the situation was desperate. CRASH! The wooden bar snapped in half. The double doors burst open. A blast of freezing wind and white snow rushed into the warm room. Five bandits stood in the doorway. Their faces were gaunt, their eyes wild and completely devoid of humanity. Iron axes and spiked clubs were in their hands.

"Food!" one of the bandits screamed, his eyes locking onto the terrified women and children.

"Kill them all and take all the food!" The bandit raised his axe and lunged forward. Karen was standing directly in his path, her arms spread wide to shield the young mother and the little girl behind her. Karen squeezed her eyes shut, preparing for the fatal blow. But a sudden, loud clattering of iron was behind her. Dusty burst through the interior corridor doors of the Great Hall. The armored giant leaped across the room with unyielding speed.

Just as the bandit swung his axe down toward Karen, Dusty threw his chainmail-covered body in front of the maid. The heavy iron axe slammed directly into Dusty's chainmail shoulder. A loud metallic CLANG was in the air. The links of iron held firm, preventing the blade from doing any real damage. Dusty reached out with his hands, grabbed the bandit by the throat, and shoved him violently backward into the doorway. Karen opened her eyes. The armored figure of the third mage was directly in front of her.

The dark bucket-helm was staring down the bandits, standing like an unbreakable iron shield between the intruders and the terrified villagers. The other four bandits stared at the giant in absolute shock.

"Another iron demon!" one of them shrieked.

"Smash him!" another yelled, stepping forward with a heavy iron mace. Dusty did not retreat. The armored skeleton swung his iron-gloved fists, fighting with a wild strength. He caught a mace blow to the ribs. A loud dent was in his chainmail, and a bone fractured underneath the armor, but Dusty kept fighting. He shoved another bandit to the floor, blocking the entrance completely so they could not reach the villagers. Up on the balcony, Jack was on his knees.

He was clutching his chest, his face pale and slick with sweat. He was pouring every ounce of his willpower into Dusty, keeping the third giant moving despite the severe spiritual weight crushing his own soul.

"Hold them," Jack whispered, blood dripping from his chin.

"Just hold them." Inside the hall, the first bandit recovered from the shove. He picked his iron axe back up. He saw that the armored mage was busy fighting two other men. He stepped to the side, raising the axe high over his head.

"Die, monster!" the bandit screamed. He swung the axe down with all his starving, desperate might. The iron blade struck Dusty directly in the center of his spine, hitting a weak point in the back of the chainmail. The impact was devastating. The spine beneath the armor was completely severed. Up on the balcony, Jack screamed in agony. The magical threshold of his core was breached. The grey thread connecting his soul to Dusty violently snapped.

The feedback felt like a hot iron spike being driven through his brain. He collapsed onto his side on the cold stone, gasping for air as the world spun around him. Inside the Great Hall, the magical force animating Dusty instantly vanished. Without the mana to hold the bones together, the skeleton lost all structural integrity. Dusty collapsed. The bandit panted, staring at the fallen armor.

"I killed him! The demon is down!" He raised his axe again, his eyes locking back onto Karen and the children. But before he could take a single step forward, a shadow appeared in the doorway behind the bandits. It was Giles. The blizzard had momentarily shifted, allowing the militia to see the breached doors. Giles was covered in snow, his face twisted in absolute fury. He swung his heavy wood-axe in a wide arc. The blade caught the bandit directly in the back. The man fell silently.

The militia poured into the doorway right behind Giles, their spears and axes raised. They overwhelmed the remaining four bandits in a matter of seconds, finishing the splinter group before they could take another breath.

"Karen!" Giles yelled over the roaring wind, stepping over the dead bandits.

"Is everyone safe? Are you hurt?" Karen was breathing heavily, her eyes wide. She looked at the young mother and the little girl. They were crying, but they were completely unharmed.

"We are safe, Giles!" Karen yelled back, her voice shaking but loud. Giles let out a sigh of relief, lowering his axe. Then, his eyes fell upon the collapsed heap of chainmail. The third mage.

"He fell saving us," Giles muttered, his voice filled with deep, profound respect. He rushed forward, dropping to his knees beside the armor. He reached his thick hands toward the heavy iron bucket-helm.

"We must get his helm off. He needs air to breathe, or he will suffocate in this metal!" Karen's heart stopped. If Giles removed that helmet, he wouldn't find a wounded, breathing man. The entire village would realize that Jack's mages were not living men at all. They would know about the necromancy. And they would probably hang her Lord even though he was doing all this to save them.

"Don't touch him!" Karen screamed, throwing herself forward. Giles froze, his hands hovering just an inch away from the iron helm. He looked up at Karen, completely bewildered by her sudden outburst.

"Karen, he is dying! We have to help him!"

"You can't!" Karen yelled, her mind racing to find a lie. She stood over the armor, spreading her arms out defensively.

"Lord Jack told me their vows! Their vows are absolute! No one but their master is allowed to touch their armor, and their faces must never be seen by the uninitiated!"

"But he is hurt!" Giles argued.

"If you remove that helm, the vows are broken!" Karen cried out, her eyes wide and desperate.

"Lord Jack said it would bring a deadly curse upon the man, and upon anyone who looks at him! Do you want to curse the man who just gave his life for these children?!" Giles stared at her. The villagers huddled near the hearth murmured in fearful agreement. Magic was a terrifying, unpredictable thing, and a dying mage's curse was not something any sane peasant wanted to risk. Slowly, Giles lowered his hands and took a step back, bowing his head in deep reverence to the fallen warrior.

"I... I understand," Giles said respectfully.

"We will not touch him. We will let Lord Jack tend to his own." Karen let out a long, shaky breath, her knees trembling so badly she thought she might fall. As the villagers rushed forward to push tables against the broken doors to keep the wind out, Karen stood over the fallen armor. She had just saved Jack's deepest secret. The cover story was completely intact, and the mage had died a hero's death in the eyes of the village.