“Jo,” Harry said, low and urgent, “come up with your bow. Cedric, you or Stan come up too.”
Both looked up sharply.
Harry scrambled back up the ladder, his hands slipping once on the smooth worn rungs.
He emerged into the cavern, the opening to the outside washed in the cold midday light. He moved fast to the entrance and crouched in a patch of shadow near the rock lip. From there he watched the soldiers inching up the slope, their line creeping forward at the Dead Warden’s sluggish pace. Walls was still in the center, the glowing blue orb held above his head.
Jo climbed up a moment later and settled beside him. She strung Zephyr in silence, movements practiced and small.
Harry kept his voice low. “Jojo, we haven’t talked about it. Are you doing alright since shooting that man upstairs?”
Jo lifted one shoulder. “It was them or us.”
“True,” he said, “but that’s not the same as being alright with it.”
A dull thump sounded from the hatch as Cedric lifted his war hammer up and climbed out after it. He grabbed the weapon before moving to join them and ducking at the entrance.
Jo exhaled. “I knew the day I picked this over the salt mines it would mean getting blood on my hands.”
“That’s a hard choice,” Harry said. “A dungeon no one comes back from or shipped off as slave labor.”
Jo’s eyes stayed fixed on the approaching soldiers below. “Harry, no woman ever comes back from the salt mines either.”
Harry nodded. “I’m sorry, Jojo.”
“Not your fault.” She adjusted her grip on the bow. “So yes, you need a man shot, I can do it.”
Harry pointed out Captain Walls. “Him. I watched him murder a good man. When he’s close enough, take him out.”
Jo nodded once. She drew an arrow from her quiver and nocked it loosely against the string
They waited.
The line crept closer, slowed to a crawl by the Dead Warden’s uneven shamble at the front.
When the soldiers closed to thirty yards, Jo rose into a half-stand and shifted a step left, still wrapped in shadow. She steadied her breath, drew back, released.
Harry tracked the shot, his focus tightening, watching in slow motion as the arrow sped through the air.
Walls spotted it at the last instant and tried to twist away. Too heavy. Too slow.
The arrow struck true, right above his heart.
Lightning burst across him in a crackling wash.
Walls went rigid as the arrow skittered off his armor, deflected away.
He staggered back a step, arms flailing, and dropped to one knee.
“Good shot,” Cedric said quietly.
In slow motion Harry watched the orb slip from Walls’s grasp, spinning toward the ground in a swirl of glowing blue.
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It struck and shattered. A spray of luminous fluid splashed across Walls, coating his chest and face.
Movement froze across the slope. Only the Dead Warden kept moving, its heavy steps dragging it toward the cavern mouth.
It halted. Slowly, its mass twisted back toward the soldiers.
They edged back, weapons raised. The Dead Warden's multiple heads turned, several let out piercing screams. One soldier broke and ran.
The Dead Warden dropped low, its mass flattening as it shifted into that centipede crawl the other one used to chase Harry. It surged forward, tearing straight through the loose line of soldiers and barreling after the fleeing man. It caught him within seconds.
The thing reared upright, several heads and hands latching on as the man screamed. A sharp jerk, a wet rip, and blood sprayed across its front in heavy arcs as the Dead Warden tore him apart.
More soldiers broke and ran. Larson shouted over the panic, voice cracking as he forced seven or eight men into order. Spears came down, forming a shaky wall. Crossbowmen gathered behind them and fired.
Finally recovered from the shock of Jo’s arrow, Captain Walls heaved himself upright, rolling to his knees before forcing his bulk to stand. The blue residue smeared across him in dull streaks, already fading to nothing. He lumbered toward the formed line in short, frantic steps. When he reached Larson, he jabbed at him with a thick finger, pointing toward the camp.
Larson spun, grabbed a crossbowman by the collar of his chainmail, and shoved him hard toward Walls.
Walls and the soldier hurried back toward the camp.
Beside Harry, Cedric shifted, knuckles white around the haft of his warhammer.
“Cedric,” Harry pointed to the hatch, “go down and get Stan and Nick.”
Cedric held a beat, jaw tight, then nodded. He backed away from the entrance, moved to the hatch, and dropped quickly through.
Down on the field, most of the soldiers who had fled were returning, falling in with Larson’s group.
The Dead Warden and the soldiers faced each other, the monster tested the spear wall, rearing up and swiping at the braced shafts. Behind it, a lone soldier sprinted across open ground, trying to rejoin the line. One of the heads jutting from the Warden’s back let out a shrill, high-pitched scream. The creature snapped around and charged.
At the camp, Walls and the soldier with him had reached the horses and were scrambling to saddle Walls’s mount.
In the open, the returning soldier panicked, skidded to a stop, and tried to run the other way. The Dead Warden overran him in seconds, driving him into the dirt. His scream rose sharp and desperate, cut off as the creature pivoted and swarmed over him, tearing him apart.
Larson’s line fell into a slow retreat, step by step toward the camp.
At the horses, the soldier with Walls braced both hands on Walls’s back and shoved, helping haul the captain up into the saddle.
Behind them, Larson’s crossbowmen loosed another volley, bolts thudding into the Dead Warden’s mass with little effect.
Walls, finally mounted, turned his horse and rode hard, fleeing down the road to the distant trees.
The Dead Warden spotted him breaking away and dropped low, its body humping and buckling as it rolled side to side, driving itself forward in a sudden, violent rush. Walls had too much of a head start. Its attention snapped to the remaining horses instead. It pivoted and crashed toward them. The animals screamed, ripped free of their picket line, and scattered across the field.
Harry took a step forward. “I can’t just watch this.”
Jo moved with him. “What do you want to do?”
“I’m not sure. When the others come up, keep an eye out. If you can help, great. But be ready to go back down and lock up.”
“Be careful,” Jo grabbed his shoulder. “They’re not worth getting killed.”
Harry broke from cover and started down the slope. Below, the Dead Warden had turned on the soldiers again. Another volley of bolts struck home, and it barreled straight through the line, ignoring the spears. One of the crossbowmen vanished under its reach as it hauled him off, stopping just beyond the others’ range to tear him apart.
Harry jogged out about twenty feet and shouted, “Up here! Get out of the open!” He waved his arms, motioning back toward the cavern.
Several soldiers spotted him. A crossbow bolt snapped toward him but missed by a wide margin.
He stepped closer. “Larson! Get your men inside!”
Down below, one of the Dead Warden’s heads twisted toward the soldier who had helped Walls escape. The man had been hiding behind the wagon but stepped out, ready to make a run for the others. The Dead Warden charged and the soldier dove under the wagon. The Dead Warden knocked it aside, grabbed him by the leg, and dragged him clear. The soldier kicked free and scrambled back behind the wagon. The creature followed, and they began a deadly game, the Warden batting the wagon away as the man desperately scrambled to stay behind it.
Larson barked new orders. The remaining soldiers shifted, spears kept between them and the undead monster as they started pulling back toward the cavern.
***
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