First Civilization's Legacy- Omnibus Edition

First Civilization’s Legacy

Flank Hawk

What happens when fire-breathing dragons battle Stukas for aerial supremacy over a battlefield? Can an earth wizard's magic defeat a panzer? Krish, a farmhand turned mercenary, witnesses this and much more as he confronts the Necromancer King.

Blood Sword

Scouting along the western frontier, Flank Hawk discovers an army massing, the army of Fendra Jolain, Goddess of Healing. Weakened and battle weary, Keesee and her allies cannot withstand Fendra Jolain’s powerful army of men and beasts arrayed against them. One hope of survival remains: Retrieve the Blood Sword from the immortal Colonel of the West and bring its sinister strength to the battlefield. 

Soul Forge

Young Enchantress Thereese lays stricken and silent, her vital essence sapped by the Shard Staff, edging ever closer toward death. Supreme Enchantress Thulease refuses to allow her daughter to fade beyond recovery. Enchantress Thulease recruits Mercenary Flank Hawk to accompany her as she seeks the legendary Sleeping Sage.

Praise for Terry W. Ervin II and First Civilization’s Legacy

Blood Sword is a tremendous installment in one of the most inventive and compelling fantasy sagas I have read in years!

-Stephen Zimmer, author of the Fires in Eden Series and The Rising Dawn Saga.

Blood Sword continues the adventures started in Flank Hawk, in which Ervin created a unique and detailed post apocalyptic world where magic works but ancient technologies from the First Civilization—our world—still exist. You'll cheer as they face off against griffins, fallen angels, gargoyles, and worse, in a fun, engaging adventure filled with wall to wall action.

-David Forbes, author of the Osserian Saga

A worthy successor to the original novel, packed with action and entertainment.

-Jim Bernheimer, author of the Dead Eye series and Confessions of a D-List Supervillain

A classic epic fantasy with plenty of original twists. You won’t want to put it down, even when you’ve reached the end.

-David Debord, author of The Silver Serpent and Keeper of the Mists

Grab hold! Ervin’s got the magic!

-C. Dean Andersson, author of the Bloodsong Trilogy

A curious blend of epic fantasy, modern techno-thriller and non-stop action-adventure.

Erica Hayes, author of the Shadowfae Chronicles

Buy it or chalk it up on that long list of things you regret not doing!

Stephen Hines, author of Hocus Focus

First Civilization’s Legacy

FLANK HAWK. Copyright 2009, 2019 by Terry W. Ervin II

BLOOD SWORD, Copyright  2011, 2019 by Terry W. Ervin II

SOUL FORGE, Copyright 2014, 2019 by Terry W. Ervin II

Published by Gryphonwood Press 

www.gryphonwoodpress.com

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law.

This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons is entirely coincidental.

Cover art by Christine M. Griffin

FLANK HAWK

by Terry W. Ervin II

Chapter 1

Guzzy signaled for my attention and pointed over the gully’s lip toward the disturbance in the undergrowth. He grinned, showing his yellowing teeth. It’s coming for you.

After listening to the rhythmic rustling for a few breaths, I set aside my spear and drew my broad-bladed short sword. The reeking stench of rotting flesh sent flashes of last night’s desperate battle through my mind. Screams, blood, and death echoed there.

Still smiling, my cousin scrunched up his nose and donned his rusted steel helmet before lifting his heavy frame to peer over the gully’s lip. Give it half a moment, Krish.

I leaned against a rotting oak rising from a bend in our sheltering gully and stared at the nameless stream trickling through its bottom. My stomach tightened as the sun’s light faded. The last few nights of battle gave me reason to fear the dark. The faint stench reminded me of the putrid odor that always preceded the zombies. My militia training on livestock corpses wasn’t enough. Walking dead, with pus-rotted skin teaming with maggots, clubbing and grasping, were far more frightening.

Guzzy nodded while checking his broad-bladed axe. Some necromancer master ordered them forward again. His face and cheeks looked pressed into his worn helmet. Even if my cousin was heavy, he was anything but fat. Nobody I’d ever seen could hew limbs from bodies like him.

I climbed around the rotting oak and pinpointed the rustling in the tangled vines. With a sneer set across my face to mask my disgust, I held my breath and chopped into the animated arm. My first swing cut into the hacked-off remnant from last night’s horde. The soft ground absorbed the blow. With aim, my second effort severed the hand at the wrist. Then I pinned the writhing, bloated hand with my boot before shearing away its fingers and thumb.

Guzzy laughed. Masterful sword work, Krish.

I kicked away the still wiggling stump and fingers. Yeah, Guzzy, they’re coming again. I surveyed the woods, peering into the mixture of oak, hickory and maples. They’d driven us back five miles in the last three days, hardly a fraction of the vast Gray Haunt Forest’s depths. Only one more mile south and they’d drive us out completely. Didn’t want that thing tripping me up, I said before returning to the mud-slick gully’s concealment.

I looked back behind our skirmish line. Men with flaming torches and boar spears like mine were moving toward our forward position. Their gray quilted armor, like mine and Guzzy’s, was more effective at warding off the chilly spring nights than enemy attacks. Twenty-three men split up and took positions to either side of me and Guzzy. A lot of new, unsure faces were among them. Unlike the shield slung over Guzzy’s back, the ones they carried were unmarred.

Guzzy said, Let’s wet and salt our blades while we got the chance.

I followed him down to the narrow stream. I didn’t recognize the two men who took up position to our right. Are Vort and Darnard still to our left? I asked.

Guzzy nodded, lifting his blade from the slow-running water. Danner and Klano fell last night. That leaves only four of us from Pine Ridge.

I dipped my sword into the stream, being careful not to get water on the hilt. I reached into my nearly empty pouch and sprinkled finely ground salt along the length of my sword’s blade.

Guzzy dipped my spear tip into the water and held it out for me to salt.

My hand shook a little as I spread the white grains. Thanks, I said, trying to steady myself for battle. I saw you cut down Harvid last night.

Guzzy shoved my spear back into my hands. That wasn’t Harvid, he growled before crawling back up to the gully’s rim. When we get back to Pine Ridge, don’t say anything of it to his ma.

Guzzy was only two years older, but far more battle hardened than me. This was my first campaign, my third night of combat. I took a deep breath and looked around. Our lines grew thinner. I wondered if the enemy’s would again be stronger, reinforced by some of our fallen.

If Harvid’s corpse had attacked me, I wasn’t sure I’d have cut him down like my cousin did. Guz, this isn’t like the skirmishes most talk about. Remember Old Lowell’s stories about the three years his father fought, driving back the Great Corpse Incursion? This sounds more like that. I slid on my helmet and watched the other men preparing their weapons. I’d finally got used to the nose guard. And Old Lowell is at least seventy winters.

My cousin gripped my hand as I clutched my spear’s shaft. You’ve done well sticking and holding them with your boar spear. We’ll get through another night. Then he nodded and winked. We’re a team.

Guzzy, it takes three to make a true zombie picket team. Harvid fell the first night.

And we’ve made it as a pair since then.

I swallowed hard, summoning the resolve that’d kept me alive and fighting next to my cousin. It wasn’t easy. I was scared through most of the battles, surviving more on luck than skill. I forced a grin across my face. If last night was a skirmish, Guz— I started, but stopped when I spotted our new captain approaching, accompanied by a spellcaster.

I recognized the wizard from our first night. His ruddy complexion and red hair emphasized his specialization, fire. The captain looked no more than eighteen summers, same as me.

Noble’s son, Guzzy mumbled as he watched the captain approach, wearing clean, unmarred chain mail armor.

I didn’t care whose son he was, as long as he could lead.

Men, I am Captain Plarchett. Your Lord Hingroar has assigned me to lead the Black Mule Company. He spoke in a steady, matter-of-fact voice. Reinforcements will be here by morning. We must strive to hold. If we give ground it will only weaken us while strengthening our enemy. He sent a hawk-like gaze across the line of our company while his voice gained strength and conviction. Every one of our fallen they take intact, is one more to march later against us.

This speech should be given by our sergeant, Darnard mumbled to Vort.

They’ve not bothered to assign another sergeant after Mard fell in our first clash, snorted Vort. He was our bugler too.

Captain Plarchett strode to the spot directly across the gully from Vort and pointed at him. You, soldier! I have just promoted you to corporal. Not quite sergeant. If you survive the night, I may consider it.

Vort looked around, then back to our new captain. Why me?

Captain Plarchett stared back. Why me, Captain, sir? Because I just heard you volunteer to recon the enemy position. He folded his arms. Go now.

Vort gulped. But, Captain, he said, looking over his shoulder. They’re marching this way!

I knew it was wrong to interrupt our captain, but I didn’t think the infraction severe enough to cost Vort his life.

Captain Plarchett put his hands on his hips. Soldier, I gathered it was your opinion that I lacked knowledge of the duties of soldiers under my command. Corporals are responsible for reconnaissance and fixing the enemy position. Correct, Corporal?

Out of the closing darkness, a line of two dozen fresh soldiers approached the captain and formed a line to the right of the wizard. I, along with every other man in Black Mule Company, looked about nervously.

The captain relaxed his stance. I will not order you to your death tonight, Corporal. Remain with the company. Prove your worthiness in battle and you may keep your promotion. He looked over his shoulder at the new soldiers, a mixture of arms and armor marked them as mercenaries. All looked mean and battle hardened, and each carried five javelins over his shoulder. Third squad, form with incomplete zombie picket teams and distribute javelins.

While half the mercenaries climbed down and across the stream before dividing up and joining pairs of soldiers, our captain continued, We’re to hold this position as long as possible. Reinforcements are on the way. If we must, we will fall back, southwest to the road and to the bridge. The river is up and two companies hold the blockhouses defending the bridge on the far side of the Valduz.

Captain Plarchett began pacing, and pointed. We’re defending White Mule’s right flank. Gold Mule is defending the left. Both have received reinforcements. He looked across the gully into the trees and their darkening depths. If I should fall, Lesser Wizard Morgan will lead.

A tall, lanky mercenary with a pock-marked face and wearing weathered leather armor with metal rings sewn into it took position on my right. He assessed Guzzy and me before saying, I’m a lefty. He looked at me and pulled a sword longer and heavier than mine. You’re the sticker. Just hold’em. Then he said to Guzzy, You and me will keep them off with our shields and cut’em down.

I didn’t have to look over to see Guzzy getting red in the face. My cousin was the leader of our picket.

Our new mercenary partner continued, Watch their eyes—

Guzzy cut him off. The eyes’ll tell the souled ones. They can think and direct the mindless ones. We know our business. What about you?

The mercenary peeked over the rim of the gully. Name’s Road Toad. No offense, you looked like farm boys.

I peered into the darkness while Guzzy replied. We are. But we know how to fight. Guzzy took a deep breath and let it hiss out between his teeth. We could use some help. This is more than the Necromancer King’s yearly campaign to interfere with crop planting.

The whole Doran Confederacy is rallying to the Lord Council’s call, said Road Toad. King Tobias of Keesee has sent Prince Reveron leading troops and wizards. He stared at us and nodded. Maybe even serpent cavalry.

We’d gotten little news in the last five days. Is the captain right? I asked Road Toad, figuring he might have come across information on his way here. That reinforcements are near?

Road Toad passed me a javelin. They’re mustering outside of Pine Ridge. They’ll be organized soon, if not already marching. He handed Guzzy two javelins. Blessed by an Algaan priest this past sunrise.

Better than salt, Guzzy said, grinning. Got any Crusader-blessed weapons?

Sure, said Road Toad in jest. Got a Crusader saint-blessed sword, but curse my luck, I left it back at the Wicked Candle. Guzzy and Road Toad drew the attention of nearby soldiers with their muffled laughter.

Road Toad caught my ear by mentioning the tavern my father called unsavory. I’d walked past it many times, always lacking enough coin to drink. You were in Pine Ridge, then, I said. When? How’s things there?

You’re from there, assessed Road Toad. He removed his helmet and rubbed his beard stubble. No young men. Your tavern there was empty except for old women and even older men. He slid on his helmet and pointed at the bloated zombie finger I’d hacked from the hand earlier. It wriggled forward, through a patch of weeds and into the flickering torchlight. They’re organized and moving again. Captain’ll order the advance any minute."

I took a quick drink from my waterskin and a few bites of stale bread.

Guzzy winked at me. You’re learning. Never start a fight with a dry throat or empty stomach.

I reached into my pouch and sprinkled a pinch of salt on the animated finger. It stiffened and remained still.

Road Toad spread grease from a round tin on his sword’s blade before salting it. Then he smeared some of the yellow grease along the shaft of my spear, just below the cross guard. Good ash shaft, he said, tucking away his tin. Grease’ll foil a zombie’s grip.

Captain Plarchett climbed to our side of the gully. Black Mule Company, we will advance two hundred yards into the woods, four stride intervals between picket teams. Torch bearers remain ten yards to the rear. Fillers, with me. I’ll direct you to plug any breech. He looked back at a dozen mercenaries with the wizard preparing to light a large bonfire. We’ll fall back here where Lesser Wizard Morgan can support us.

Our captain drew his long sword, its blade caught the flickering torchlight. Black Mule Company, prepare javelins. We will break up their lines on my order. He pointed his sword toward the darkness beyond the torchlight’s reach. Advance!

Road Toad seemed to leap out of the gully while Guzzy and I clambered out. For me the advance order no longer carried the excitement it had three days ago. Our line advanced cautiously. I observed every fallen log and low hanging limb, occasionally chancing a glance over my shoulder to establish a planned line of retreat. Even with the woods and men around me I felt in the open and exposed.

Road Toad observed my efforts. Wise move. What’s your name?

Krish, I said, before nodding toward my cousin. Guzzy.

I’m honored to be a part of your picket, Krish. I could’ve drawn much worse.

Guzzy chuckled. So could’ve we.

Make your line, ordered the captain. Prepare first javelin volley.

I caught the sickening stench before I spotted a wall of movement among the trees, just within the edge of what the filtered moonlight and blazing torches managed to illuminate. That’s got to be an awful lot of them, I said, hefting my javelin. Road Toad, you ever seen that many?

Can’t say that I have. Not from this angle. The mercenary licked his teeth and cocked back to throw one of his javelins. Least it’ll be hard to miss.

The entire company hurled a javelin volley on the captain’s order. Most hit. No matter where the blessed weapon’s tip struck, the shambling corpse fell like a dropped sack of wheat.

We don’t have enough javelins, I said, having loosed my only one.

The trees’ll break up their numbers, said Road Toad. Crouch down, Krish. After you throw your second javelin, Guzzy, do the same.

Why? asked Guzzy. We ain’t cowards.

Second volley...now! shouted the captain. Another two dozen zombies dropped.

I knelt, while Road Toad squatted, his long legs bent like a frog’s. He yanked on Guzzy’s trousers. Down now or this won’t work.

Guzzy grudgingly complied. What won’t work?

Road Toad readied his round shield. In the flickering torchlight I spotted many dents and upon it. Guzzy slipped a forearm through the strap of his shield. I readied my spear.

See, Sir Guzzy, said Road Toad, if we appear less of a target, fewer will come at us. He hurried his speech to cut off Guzzy’s reply. Then we can punch through and take them from behind. Only way we have a chance.

Salt caused zombies pain but they feared nothing. The only way we could stop this size horde was with blessed weapons and we’d expended all of ours. There’s too many, I said, estimating that they outnumbered us ten-to-one, even after the javelins.

Captain Plarchett must have read my mind as the zombie horde closed to twenty yards. Black Mule Company! he called. Fall back to the gully.

We retreated through the trees in formation at a trot. The zombies increased their shambling gait. Double-time, with me, shouted the captain, waving his sword and pointing the way.

I followed Road Toad as he weaved through the trees, high stepping over fallen logs and brush. Men grunted as they tripped over maple roots or bumped into low hanging branches. Our formation tightened as we retreated.

There were so many zombies, more than the other nights and fewer of us. Running from them felt like the right thing to do. We’d be ordered to turn and fight soon enough and instinct cried out for me to keep running when that happened.

I wouldn’t flee the battle. I’d stand with Guzzy and face the enemy once again.

With me, men! the captain shouted. Toward the fire. He pointed with his sword. Cross the ravine and make our stand.

The wizard, along with the soldiers who’d stayed behind, had a large fire blazing. Embers swirled around the flames and rose into the hickory branches above. The zombie horde had fallen fifty yards behind, but hadn’t stopped.

Chapter 2

Southwestern United States

2,873 Years before the Reign of King Tobias of Keesee

"Dr. Johnston, are all preparations complete? Do all systems check?"

Dr. Simeon Johnston double checked several screens, and observed the nods of his lab assistants. They are, Dr. Mindebee. We are ready to proceed.

Excellent, said Dr. Mindebee, struggling not to rub his hands together in anticipation. Initiate primary sequence.

Several assistants sprang into action, tapping away at their console keyboards.

Dr. Johnston wandered across the lab, examining screen readouts. Primary sequence initiated, he said. All readings are stable and within normal range. Magnetic containment field approaching full strength.

Dr. Mindebee double checked the primary and backup recording systems. He smiled. Warm up the laser. Prepare to bombard the plasma with alpha, beta and gamma rays. He gave a thumbs-up to the military observer.

The Lt. Colonel acknowledged and, over a secured line, informed the Pentagon, Operation Alice in Wonderland is a go.

One of the assistants leaned to his partner. Draws on three nuke power plants. Wonder if it’ll dim the lights in Las Vegas?

"They stopped chasing us," I said. Guzzy and Road Toad stood on either side of me and stared across the gully at the mass of undead bodies holding at the outer reaches of the bonfire’s flickering glow.

Guzzy nodded. This ain’t good. He slid up his helmet and wiped a sleeve across his sweating brow. Mindless zombies shouldn’t have stopped.

You’re right, said Road Toad. There’s some souled zombies among them. Maybe even a necromancer of some skill. He nudged Guzzy. That barrel you stumbled over crossing the stream. There’s a cord wrapped with vines leading from it past us, and toward the wizard.

Oil? I whispered. We stood ready in the center of the line with picket teams spread out to each side. I wondered if the wizard had hidden an oil-filled barrel in front of each picket.

Been nice if they’d mentioned it to us, grumbled Guzzy.

Wish I still had my father’s crossbow, I said, again watching the enemy.

I’d rather tangle with that mess of undead than with your ol’ pappy, said Guzzy. Won’t matter to him that a zombie tore it from ya.

Road Toad stared into the darkness across the gully. That bonfire’s showing us to the enemy too well, he mumbled, interrupting my thoughts about my father. Krish, you some sort of marksman?

With a crossbow? I asked, watching the captain send Vort and Darnard to reinforce the scouts on our right flank.

Best shot around Pine Ridge, said Guzzy. Except for Jotey.

Got an idea, Road Toad said. He backed off the line and approached our captain. After exchanging salutes, they conferred and Road Toad sprinted toward the reserve ranks.

Well, said Guzzy, that makes me feel better. Wonder what he’d have done if I told’em you fancied yourself a healer?

Hush, I said between clenched teeth. They find out and you know where they’ll send me? I shot my cousin a short, nasty stare. I wanted to look back and see where Road Toad had gone, but I was afraid of turning my back to the enemy.

Men, shouted Captain Plarchett, withdraw from the trench five paces. When we had, the captain ordered, Gray Mule Company move forward. Join Black Mule and reinforce the line.

When fresh militia troops formed up with us, Road Toad appeared among them. Here, Krish, he said handing me a crossbow already cocked and fitted with a long bolt. Our wizard’s going to start some trouble. He handed Guzzy a fresh javelin. Sir Guz, help me spot the organizer behind their line. We’ll toss these, along with a few others behind us, and Krish, you be right on him.

I looked over the crossbow as best I could in the flaring firelight. It felt like oak, same as my father’s, but this one had an iron prod, whereas my father’s had been wooden. I can’t be accurate first shot, I said, wondering if Road Toad really expected his plan to succeed.

A basket-sized, flaring ball of fire arced over our heads toward the enemy line, then burst. Seven fist-sized flaming balls dove like ospreys on fish. Seven zombies staggered forward as the flames burned into them.

There! said Road Toad. See?

A dark-robed man observed the burning zombies and motioned with a wave of his skull-tipped staff, summoning three hulking zombies to him.

Guzzy grunted, Right, as I raised my crossbow and took aim, elevating for distance while estimating wind.

As the necromancer strode further away, the three large zombies retreated with him, covering his back. I estimated lead as Guzzy and Road Toad hurled their javelins, along with a number of soldiers behind us. I exhaled and firmly compressed the trigger. The hail of seven javelins fell, taking down two of the three zombies. The third ran on for several steps before dropping.

Good shooting, Krish, said Road Toad, patting me on the back.

I missed the necromancer, I said, realizing I’d dropped the third zombie.

True, laughed Road Toad, but how often do you get to see a necromancer run? And, Sir Guz, I think you pierced one with your javelin.

Guzzy grinned from ear to ear. He won’t be up near the front any time soon. Then my cousin’s smile disappeared. Here they come.

I slung the empty crossbow across my back and gripped my spear. Road Toad urged the fresh zombie picket team to our right to stand firm. Guzzy, to my left adjusted his shield, and warned, They’ve got some awful big rocks. About half the horde carried stones the size of watermelons.

Advance to the trench, ordered the captain. Javelin throwers, salt and target stone carriers.

The zombies had reached a shambling trot, even those hefting stones. The horde now numbered at least three-hundred. Silent, except for the slapping of feet in the damp ground, the horde spread out as it closed. Captain Plarchett ordered javelins thrown an instant before the zombies tossed. One nearby soldier fell, crushed by a hurled stone. With frightening ease the zombies scrambled down and in mass began climbing up the slick gully walls.

I steadied myself for the rotting stench. My first spear thrust caught an animated corpse in the shoulder, knocking it back into three horde members below. Guzzy hacked the arm off one before kicking it in the chest, sending it tumbling back. It, like mine, would come at us again, but crippled with painful, salt-filled wounds.

Road Toad’s sword flashed, severing the head of one foul-smelling corpse, and a second he smashed downward with his shield. Already, they’d dragged one of the picket team members to our right into the gully and began pummeling him to death. I tried to ignore his screams, thankful it wasn’t me and rammed my spear into the chest of a new opponent.

It fell back in pain, but in less agony than the first. The salt on my spear tip was nearly spent. A fresh javelin wave flew overhead, answered by large stones and logs landing among our ranks.

The sound of combat was all one-sided. The zombies fought in silence, except for the thuds their fists made when they connected with shields, armor, or a soldier’s flesh. The living, on the other hand, yelled warnings, shouted in anger and frustration, or screamed in agonized terror.

I’d crippled three more zombies while Guzzy chopped down four with his axe and Road Toad managed to dismember six. Few teams fought as well as us. Most struggled to simply keep the enemy at bay, forcing Captain Plarchett to order reserves into the line. Already the horde had dragged a third of Black and Gray Mule Company into its midst.

Just as a second wave of zombies shambled into the gully, the sky flared overhead, and balls of flame darted into the oil-filled barrels. The streambed erupted in flame.

Some smoldering and others in flame, the zombies still strove to reach us. One burning corpse emerged from the fire, and grabbed my spear’s shaft as I drove it back. I yanked it free; the grease had foiled its grip. I silently thanked Road Toad.

A solid weight slammed into me from the side, knocking me to the ground. Guzzy quickly rolled off of me and away as a four-foot log tumbled past where I just stood. I didn’t give a second thought to the crossbow digging into my back. Road Toad stepped forward and cut down the burning spear grabber.

Shrill death shrieks rose on our left. Fall back, called our captain. Guzzy and the other surviving picket leaders repeated the order. I followed Road Toad and Guzzy to rally near the bonfire. A distant glow added to the cries on the left, proclaiming the hordes were overrunning White Mule Company.

Captain Plarchett waved his sword high. Companies form up for quick march. Black Mule Company— called the captain, but halted his command as, to the southwest, a bursting flare of green fire signaled in the sky high above the trees.

Gold or White Mule’s been overrun, said Road Toad, or retreating.

We reached the bonfire and the remnants of our company formed into paired lines as ordered. I didn’t want to count how few of us remained. Instead I stared toward the gully where the flames had begun to sputter and zombies, some battle damaged and others fully intact, emerged.

Cradling a broken arm, Corporal Vort appeared from the darkened woods to the rear of our line of march. Ogres! he yelled, running. They’re behind me.

A few of our number broke ranks and fled. Half the militia that remained looked about, considering it. I’d taken a step in retreat but, scared as I was, stopped and faced front. I couldn’t abandon Guzzy, Road Toad or our captain.

Road Toad and a few other mercenaries turned to face the new menace. The closest I’d ever been to an ogre was an old dust-covered head mounted below the rafters in the cooper’s shop. That ogre head trophy was an undersized runt killed outside of Pine Ridge before I was born. Still, it was big as any bull’s head I’d ever seen.

The captain called to the lesser wizard, Do what you can to keep the zombies off of us, then lead the men to the bridge. He hastily pointed to three mercenaries, including Road Toad. With me.

Road Toad looked at Guzzy and me. Come on, Krish and Guz. I think I see two ogres out there. Captain’ll need you.

I gulped and looked at Guzzy. We’d been trained to fight zombies, not ogres.

Without hesitation Guzzy said, Come on. Let’s help’em. He tugged at my shoulder. We came to fight.

Road Toad flashed us a grin. We trotted to catch up with the two mercenaries and Captain Plarchett as they strode the direction Vort had pointed.

Seven soldiers hadn’t fled and stood ready as Lesser Wizard Morgan finished his spell. A thin wall of flames six feet high shot up, between us and the closing zombie horde. As the flame wall extended, the bonfire’s flames weakened. With me, men, shouted Morgan. To the bridge. They turned and ran. Rather than endure the flames, the zombie mass chased after them.

A deep, guttural bellow shattered what had been a silent enemy assault. Two immense figures emerged from the depths of the trees. The ogres stood at least twelve feet tall, even hunched over. They were built like men but far more twisted and muscular. One wore tattered pelts draped over its body. The other, larger ogre wore thick hide boots, crude iron gauntlets, and a skirt built of rusted iron rings of a size that would fit around my wrist. Each carried a formidable spiked mace. The larger ogre clutched Darnard’s broken body in a rusted gauntlet.

The captain stopped and yelled, Goll statch!

The gauntleted ogre halted twenty feet away, puffed out its chest and grinned, showing jagged yellow teeth. Their color matched the single stubby horn that curled up from the flat, sloped forehead. The ogre smashed its mace against a tree, causing it to shudder. Gaaff, da grull haw!

Road Toad led us in line, ten feet to the left of the captain, and commented, Captain speaks the foul tongue, before taking position with shield in hand and sword ready.

One of the mercenaries stood, armed as Road Toad with sword and shield. The other carried a battle axe like Guzzy. I held my spear ready, struggling to keep the tip steady.

How do we fight these? asked Guzzy, nervously running his hand along the haft of his axe.

Cripple them, said Road Toad. Then go for the kill. Avoid their attacks. Ogres are quicker than they look.

I re-examined the behemoths in what remained of the dying firelight. Their skin was mottled, cracked with patches peeling away. It looked tougher than hardened leather. Did Road Toad mean they were quicker than a man? Faster than me?

Captain Plarchett yelled, Goll grull haw awhk!

Road Toad let out a snorting laugh. Our fair captain just insulted them.

With a roar the ogres charged. The one hurled Darnard’s body at the captain, forcing him to leap to the right.

Spread out, warned Road Toad, as the smaller one stomped toward us.

I threw my spear, punching through the ogre’s tattered hides and into its right shoulder. The behemoth didn’t even notice. I drew my sword and backpedaled as it charged, yellow eyes intent on me.

Road Toad ducked under its mace as it stomped past him. Guzzy hewed at its thigh and found flesh, but not deep enough. It yanked my spear from its shoulder and flailed wildly at me with its mace.

I dropped to the ground, under the blow and rolled, avoiding its blunt-toed feet as it came to a stop. The ogre roared in frustration and stomped, trying to crush me. I rolled right, and avoided being smashed by inches.

I shot forward and scrambled to my feet behind the ogre. Sword in hand I turned, preparing for it to come at me again. Road Toad caught the ogre across its wrist, carving deep with his sword. The brute bellowed as it lost its grip on its mace, sending the weapon spinning into the darkness. Guzzy struck his axe deep into the ogre’s left calf and spun away. But the ogre guessed right and thrust my spear, skewering Guzzy through the chest. Encouraged by success, it drove the spear up to the crossbars, and pinned Guzzy to the ground.

Guzzy! I screamed. My cousin’s plight stabbed an icy shaft into my heart. Cursing myself as much as the monster, I charged back into the fray. Road Toad sidestepped a kick and cut at the monster’s leg, slicing deep just above the heel. The ogre reached back, grasping for Road Toad. It came away with the mercenary’s shield and in roaring frustration, crushed it with its thick-fingered hand.

The ogre’s right foot gave out when it tried to turn and pursue Road Toad who backed away. The brute stumbled forward to the ground, allowing me to leap onto its back. I stabbed my sword at the base of its skull and missed, grazing its scalp instead. My momentum carried me tumbling over its head and to the ground. Our wounded foe tried to rise but, before it could, Road Toad drove his sword into one of its yellow eyes. The ogre gasped, filling the air with its fetid breath while grasping wildly at the mercenary. With a twisting wrench, Road Toad tore at the ogre’s brain and killed it.

With me, Krish! called Road Toad, running to assist the captain.

I ran to help Guzzy. My cousin lay pinned to the damp earth with a pale, stunned look on his face. He couldn’t be dead, I thought. Not yet. I wouldn’t let him die. Blood trickled from his nose and mouth, but he was still breathing.

I reached into my belt pouch for a handful of finely ground white oak bark. It was the only component to the only healing spell I knew. I sprinkled the grainy bark dust around the wound. I’d have to remove the spear before beginning and then work fast. The magic required would kill me, but it might save Guzzy. In the depths of my heart I knew I’d fail. But I had to try.

I began the only chant I knew, the only one my older sister had taught me, while opening my mind to the maelstrom of energy that raged beyond the reach of normal senses. I edged closer, seeking a sliver of the swirling energy, a strand that I recognized. One that I could direct.

I continued to chant while energies buffeted my mind as I delved deeper, seeking to draw upon a strand broader than I could survive. One that might mend Guzzy’s wound. Not completely, but enough until Road Toad and the captain could get him to a Lain Healer. A true healer.

Someone grasped my hands, attempting to break my hold on the spear. I tightened my grip against the feeble tugs, but the lapse in concentration caused me to lose focus on the energy strands. My mind spun and I backed out before I lost my way in the whorl of energies. I held back my despair, knowing I lacked the strength to try again.

Krish, no.

The gurgling whisper tugged at my senses. It was Guzzy! I forced my eyes open to see him with his hands on mine. I leaned close and turned my ear to his bloody lips.

You can’t...

I could’ve saved you.

He feebly shook his head. No. Fight, he gasped. Don’t let them take me.

We won’t, said Road Toad, standing above us, examining the mortal wound. What’s— he stared, but didn’t finish. He looked from Guzzy to me. We’ve got to move now, Krish.

I let go of the spear and reached for my discarded sword. We can’t leave him!

The mercenary stepped on my blade before I could lift it. Zombies are moving beyond the gully, he said. He scanned the area before removing his foot from my sword and crouching down. Fire’s almost out. So’s your time, Leader of our Picket. He reached into a salt pouch. You know what I have to do?

Guzzy nodded.

I looked from Guzzy to the mercenary. I’ll carry him.

One final minute, with him, Road Toad said. I must do this before he dies.

Then I remembered my drill sergeant’s dispassionate voice. Salt in a death wound will ward off a necromancer’s magic. Either that or maim the body so it can’t walk or fight. Otherwise it’ll become a zombie to march against you.

I couldn’t sever the tendons in Guzzy’s legs and arms. I wouldn’t let Road Toad do it either.

Krishhh, whispered Guzzy. Tell my pappy... His eyes widened. We slew an ogre...fight on for me. His eyes rolled up, showing their whites.

I held my cousin’s hand. His grip weakened. Tears blurred my vision. I’m here, Guzzy. I will. I promise.

Pops Weasel, over here, said Road Toad in a harsh, restrained whisper. Pull the spear.

The old mercenary placed his foot on Guzzy’s chest and tugged the spear out. Guzzy’s body tightened. Blood flowed from the open wound. Road Toad slapped a fistful of salt into the wound and pressed it in with his fingers.

A few seconds later, Road Toad wiped his leather gauntlets on Guzzy’s padded armor before adjusting my cousin’s body. The mercenary rested Guzzy’s battle axe upon his blood-soaked chest before sliding Guzzy’s sheathed boot dirk into my belt. He placed a hand on my shoulder. He’s gone.

We should be too, said Pops Weasel after spitting a stream of leaf juice through his rotting front teeth. No shame in mourning the loss of a comrade.

I stood. He was my cousin.

Even more reason to mourn, the old mercenary said, handing me my spear.

I didn’t want it, and pulled my hand back. No.

Take it, ordered Road Toad. You fight best with it.

Here, said Pops Weasel, handing me a quiver with a half dozen crossbow bolts. Then he looked up to Road Toad and patted a fattened satchel. Rations. Didn’t have to do anything for the captain. Took care of Bendell, and that damnable ogre too.

I looked to where Pops Weasel had pointed. The ogre lay with gauntlets removed and hands severed. Blood-stained gashes lined his boots at the ankles. Its severed head lay two feet to the side.

The mercenary, Bendell, lay with his battle axe like Guzzy. Captain Plarchett, or what was left of his crushed and mangled body, lay heaped at the feet of the ogre. The sword that lay across the body didn’t catch and reflect the waning firelight as I thought it should. The sword wasn’t his.

I looked around, and noted Road Toad’s hilt. I interrupted his whispering of plans to Pops Weasel. You took Captain Plarchett’s sword.

My accusatory tone brought a surprised glance from Pops Weasel, but not from Road Toad. He was a brother, Road Toad said, and raised his leather-gauntleted right hand. That is all you need to know.

A design in the shape of a dog, maybe a fox, leaping over a rising sun showed on the worn leather. It appeared recently re-inked. Twice I’d seen that design on soldiers who’d passed through Pine Ridge, but tattooed on their right palm. I wondered if Pops Weasel’s leather gauntlet bore the mark, and if Road Toad bore the mark on his skin.

Road Toad looked around warily. We’ll make for the bridge. Try to slip through the enemy lines and cross. He led the way into the woods, I followed and Pops Weasel trailed behind as we snaked silently through the trees.

We made it to the bridge only to find a host of zombies clustered in two masses eighty yards back, on either side of the road. We might have made a run for it, except for the twenty or so goblins. Their appearance surprised me. Both Road Toad and Pops Weasel frowned, silently meeting each other’s gaze.

Most of the yellow-skinned creatures hid behind large trunks, spying on activities across the river; watching with their sinister cat eyes and listening with their pointed ears. A few goblins had climbed into the trees. Most carried short bows and long curved daggers or short, stout spears. They were no larger than a boy of eight summers, but appeared far more menacing.

I began to sweat, wondering what we were going to do with the goblins and zombie hoards between us and the stone bridge that spanned seventy feet across the raging river.

Goblin’s ain’t much, whispered Pops Weasel, but them arrows would get us before we made it across.

Road Toad nodded and I agreed. We were hidden forty yards west of the bridge near the river’s edge. The water was high, rushing by just below the bank. Four more feet and it’d reach the bridge’s underside. A twenty-yard area around the bridge had been cleared of trees years ago, and recently of brush.

Across the river, powerful lanterns backed by reflectors lit the bridge. I spotted movement inside the narrow windows of the two-story granite blockhouses that guarded the bridge’s far side. Men moved in the shadows in the woods beyond.

Bellowing ogres sounded not too far away. Pops Weasel asked, What’re they saying?

Mostly cursing. Road Toad nodded. They say, ‘No rock throwers. No cut trees to roll behind. Many puny men.’ He smiled. I have to agree with them.

Road Toad led us a few feet further back into the brush and bushes. We’ll wait until morning.

We watched for an hour and twice a patrol of goblins walked along the river and past us, only to return ten minutes later. Each time they came close I froze with my heart racing, prepared to run or fight. Between the patrols I thought about Guzzy, and if he’d be dead if I hadn’t thrown my spear. I gave the ogre the weapon used to kill my own blood. When I tried to forget that, I worried that Road Toad knew I was a healer. I wasn’t sure if Pops Weasel knew, but Road Toad did.

Pops Weasel had slid into the darkness after consulting with Road Toad. He’d just returned to report, but refrained as goblin voices approached. Pops Weasel’s wide eyes and anxious movements told me that he’d found more than he’d expected.

A third goblin patrol marched along the river past our position, when a deep growl from our side of the river, sounding like continuous thunder, caught their attention, and ours. As the goblins hurried back to the road we crawled to the edge of the brush.

The rumbling sound increased. Road Toad spotted its cause first and pointed. There, see that... He stopped, at a loss for words.

Some sorta siege engine, Pops Weasel whispered. Two more further back on the road. He nudged Road Toad. Would you say that looks like a long Crusader cannon? He pointed. There sticking out of that slanted box on top of the metal wagon. Look at that row of wheels. Pops Weasel squinted and looked closer. They’re metal too. He rubbed his unshaven chin. With a belt around them. What it’s for? He shrugged and scratched his neck. Saw more zombies back up the road than I could count. And a couple companies of ogres. He looked from Road Toad to me. Trained and armored for combat, not the wild type you fought.

A bugle from across the river sounded, but our attention remained on the siege wagon as it rolled to a halt. The zombies stood, mindless and unimpressed, but goblins bearing torches approached the rumbling wagon in hesitant steps, ready to flee at any second.

No beasts pushing or pulling it, said Pops in a low voice. Must be Crusader.

I couldn’t believe the Reunited Kingdom would join forces with the Necromancer King. In the added torchlight, I spotted a black cross outlined in white on the side of the siege wagon. The enemy had also painted an unusual black symbol emblazoned in a white circle near the cannon. It reminded me of a cross with the ends bent to the right, almost making it look to be rolling.

It’s got a cross on it, I whispered. Must be Crusader.

No, disagreed Road Toad, shaking his head. The Crusader cross stands taller than its cross arms. They’re always white on a green or orange background. Never black.

Maybe a new faction, said Pops.

Road Toad shook his head again. Crusaders are sworn enemies of the Necromancer King. Even though they don’t work with magic, this siege weapon is beyond them.

Then what is it? I asked. Whose is it?

Road Toad shrugged.

We’re about to find out, said Pops Weasel, gazing across the river at the moving soldiers and then back toward the goblins who’d gathered around the metal contraption.

A hatch raised and a zombie stuck its head and shoulders out. It looked about and addressed the goblins as only a souled one could do. A second souled zombie appeared from within the hulking, wheeled weapon and took hold of a swiveling, miniature cannon. The goblins began to chant, slapping their weapons against their shields. Panzer! Panzer! Panzer! Their eager, shrill yells rose in strength with each repetition.

I asked Road Toad, What does ‘panzer’ mean?

It’s a new word in the foul tongue. He stared intensely at the still rumbling metal wagon. For that weapon out there.

Chapter 3

North Africa

2,873 Years before the Reign of King Tobias of Keesee

Ivan Mugdalla stood patiently while a guard patted him down. He dared not flinch or even roll his eyes. The 9mm Beretta nestled into the base of his skull made sure of that. This was the fourth search since he’d entered the subterranean bunker, not counting the two above ground. At least these fellows were more professional than the bandits wielding AK-47s who’d escorted him through the barren terrain.

He’s clean, said the guard.

The other withdrew the pistol, flipped a switch and spoke through a primitive intercom. The messenger is clean.

A buzzer preceded a clacking as the steel door’s locks released. Yet another pair of bearded, burly guards emerged and signaled to Ivan. He followed them down the corridor lined with pictures and tapestries that did little to camouflage the hewn stone walls.

A bugle across the river called the defenders to stand ready. A sergeant urged the men on as they responded to the goblin chant with cries and jeers of their own.

This is bad, whispered Road Toad. Pops Weasel nodded in agreement.

Why? I asked, slipping a piece of stale bread into my mouth.

The troops across the river aren’t organized, said Road Toad. More a patched-together rabble. Can’t even muster a unified rousing cheer.

Pops Weasel motioned for my waterskin after I’d had a drink. He took a gulp and said, They’ll fight.

They’ll fight alright. Road Toad shook his head. That siege wagon—panzer, and the number of zombies and ogres. He rested a gauntleted hand on my shoulder. Your cousin was correct. The Necromancer King intends more than annual crop disruption.

Both sides continued to yell across the river, taunting each other.

Pops Weasel said, Lord Hingroar knew more was in the works than stoppin’ planting. He hired us.

Road Toad wasn’t listening. They’ll want that bridge. He began rummaging through his satchel.

Why don’t they cross elsewhere? I asked.

When Road Toad didn’t answer, Pops Weasel did. Zombies don’t drown, but they’d get washed down river and spread out. Too scattered and zombies’re useless. Ogres might make it, but not goblins. Pops scratched the base of his neck under his helmet. Neither will we.

They need the bridge to get their panzers across. As Road Toad spoke, a second panzer rumbled up behind the first. The mercenary sliced one of his doeskin pouches. With a bit of ash from his tinder box and a stick he proceeded to scribe words on the skin. The task was difficult with only the moon and torchlight filtering through the leaf-filled branches. Hand me one of your quarrels, Road Toad said after finishing.

What’cha write? asked Pops Weasel.

That was Sergeant Hocks shouting there, so some fellow mercenaries are across the river. He took the quarrel and blunted the tip before securing the message with a thin strip of leather. Wrote, destroy bridge, vast enemy ready to cross."

Why will they believe that? I asked, readying my crossbow. Even if I can get it across.

And they don’t spot us doin’ it, warned Pops Weasel.

I signed my name. Someone there might know me. He gave me a wide, serious gaze. If the enemy gets over that bridge now, Krish, they’ll run rampant across the countryside. Through Pine Ridge.

But you said there’re reinforcements on the way.

There are, but I doubt Pops spotted all the enemy massing. He handed me the quarrel. Not enough. And, I suspect the Necromancer King is pushing hard more places than the Gray Haunt Forest. Attacking on multiple fronts, or we’d have more reinforcements, and King Tobias of Keesee wouldn’t be sending help.

I sat back, wondering if this would be as bad as the Great Corpse Incursion. Few elders still lived that had witnessed it, but stories of the three years of relentless attacks and devastation lived on. The Necromancer King can’t be that strong. What about the Crusader invasion?

That was twelve years ago, said Road Toad.

And the Necromancer King sent them running, chuckled Pops Weasel. In quick order, he did.

Road Toad leaned close to Pops Weasel. Maybe they ran into those panzers. We don’t have islands to retreat to. Pops considered the troubling thought while Road Toad instructed me. Now, while they’re still occupied. Aim your quarrel to land among a group of men, a little back from the front.

With the message tied on, I hope it’ll make it across the river.

He held his arm at an angle. Shoot at this elevation.

I nodded, already knowing the proper angle to maximize distance. I targeted a circle of men beyond the bridge, beside the nearest blockhouse. After depressing the trigger and feeling the quarrel spring away, I lost sight of it arcing into the darkness.

Didn’t see it land in the river, whispered Pops Weasel. Goblins didn’t notice. Think they’ll find it, Road Toad?

I hope so. The goblins are returning to positions behind the trees. The zombies are massing forward. At the risk of revealing our hidden position in the deep brush, Road Toad stood. I see the ogres. More than you reported, Pops.

The bugle sounded again, calling the defenders across the river to position for battle. I reset my crossbow.

Road Toad took one of my few remaining quarrels and smeared a thin layer of grease on the tip and rubbed in a pinch of salt. You never know. He salted our fallen captain’s sword as well.

I do, argued Pops Weasel. We’re on the wrong side of the river. If they don’t hold the bridge, we’re stuck. If they destroy the bridge, we’re stuck.

I had to agree with Pops. You said they can’t hold. Shouldn’t we get away while they’re fighting?

Maybe, Krish. said Road Toad. But why did you join the militia?

To fight the zombies, I said, surprised by the question.

Why do that?

Because they’d run rampant through the Doran Confederacy.

And? asked Road Toad in leading tone.

You know, I said, not playing into his game.

Right, I do know. Killing everyone and everything in sight. Destroying villages, towns, homes and farms. He paused. Why did you come? Why not let someone else fight?

I recalled Guzzy telling me of the excitement and adventure, and of afternoons we’d spend learning to fight instead of laboring in the fields. But that wasn’t why. Guzzy, Harvid and I made a good zombie picket team. Lord Hingroar called upon us to defend his lands, and our homes.

The rest of your team dead? asked Pops Weasel.

Road Toad sent a glare at the older mercenary, silencing him. Krish, we may need to help them hold the bridge, at least until they destroy it.

Pops Weasel grunted, checked his gear, and mumbled to himself.

That’s okay, Pops, said Road Toad. We’ll catch up with you.

You’re thinking during the battle you’ll sneak close and make a run for it, across that bridge. Ain’t gonna happen, Road Toad.

Road Toad firmly patted Pops on the shoulder. We run faster than you. We’ll make it.

Pops Weasel squinted at me. Good luck, young Krish. Don’t let him get’cha killed. I’d hate having to cut you down as a walkin’ dead. He nodded to Road Toad, and backed away into the foliage-filled darkness.

With Guzzy around, I’d never considered the possibility of being killed and spelled into a zombie. I felt sick, realizing it might happen to me, this very night.

Road Toad must have seen the revelation cross my face. Don’t worry, Krish, he whispered, again focusing on the opposing forces whose calls had begun faltering toward silence. Most necromancers don’t have the power to create a zombie from a healer.

I hadn’t known that, but I was barely a neophyte healer. I didn’t want to discuss it, so I whispered back, Why are you staying? You’ve no family or lands nearby.

Because I’m good at fighting. He winked. And I intend to earn my pay. He looked away to the bridge as if instinct directed him. Be ready.

I wanted to ask for what, but simply watched and listened. The armored siege wagons could withstand any arrow or spear, but not many goblins or zombies could be packed inside them. Not enough to make a difference when they emerged from the panzers across the river.

The panzers didn’t roll across the bridge like I expected. One took up station five yards from the bridge, and the second twenty yards to its right.

They’ll target the blockhouses, whispered Road Toad. I’ve seen Crusader cannons in action. Those panzer cannons won’t penetrate the walls in one shot. Then they’ll have to retreat out of range for the ogres to ram new loads down the tube. If the defenders have any wizards, that’s when they should make their counter attack.

Road Toad and I watched the cannons rotate and elevate, targeting the granite blockhouses. Road Toad started to say something else, but the panzer cannons thundered, interrupting him.

The cannon fire slammed into the upper levels, penetrating the granite, sending showers of shattered stone outward. Screams followed. The panzers didn’t retreat, and fifteen seconds later they fired again, crumbling the upper levels.

Men fled from what remained of the blockhouses. Souled zombies on the panzers directing swivel-mounted mini-cannon fire cut them down. They fired not just once but in bursts of dozens. The barking chatter drowned men’s cries as white fire darted across the river, into the defenders. I watched in horror. Even Road Toad had underestimated, believing panzer firepower equivalent to Crusader weaponry. I checked my equipment, expecting Road Toad to follow Pops Weasel’s example.

Instead he said into my ear, Look, Krish, and pointed. Lord Hingroar assigned an earth wizard to hold the bridge.

I’d never seen one, and hardly believed the descriptions until that moment, but a huge creature, a harnessed elemental spirit lumbered toward the bridge. The earth spirit summoned by the wizard manifested itself as a towering, fifteen foot jumble of compacted earth and stone. It resembled a faceless ogre, but larger. Forty yards behind the crumbling blockhouses a bonfire burst into flame.

Lesser Wizard Morgan made it, I said, knowing the fire wizard’s magic would weaken as it crossed over the river.

All may not be lost, agreed Road Toad, even as a third panzer rolled forward, angling our direction. It stopped twenty yards to the left of the center panzer before turning to face the defenders across the river.

Mini-cannon fire raked the earth elemental, tearing off small chunks. The main cannons rotated, seeking to target their new adversary.

We’ve got to help, said Road Toad over the near-deafening chatter of mini-cannon fire.

What? I asked. Do what?

That zombie firing the mini-cannon, he said. Be ready to shoot him.

The panzer sat only twenty yards away, and both zombies, the one directing from the top, and the one firing the gun, were too occupied to notice anything around them.

When? I asked Road Toad.

When I take out the commander atop the nearest panzer.

The earth elemental lumbered past one of the shattered blockhouses and picked up a piece of a fallen wall. With apparent ease it hurled the five hundred pound granite chunk, striking the front of the center panzer. The blow knocked the battlewagon back, denting its steel-clad front. The struck panzer’s mini-cannon fell silent as the zombie tugged at a lever on the weapon. But the main cannon fired, missed the elemental, and caused an explosion two hundred yards beyond.

In response, from the bonfire a ball of fire arced skyward, across the river. It nearly flared out before splitting. The two flames darted down, searing into the central panzer’s exposed zombies.

The elemental advanced one stride onto the bridge and hesitated before stomping a massive foot down, weakening it.

Be ready, Krish, said Road Toad as he leapt forward and ran low toward the nearest panzer. When he was halfway there its main cannon sounded, causing him to stumble in his stride, but the mercenary continued forward. The cannon missed the elemental, and instead impacted against the already destroyed blockhouse on the right, reducing it to rubble.

The mini-cannons had taken their toll on the elemental, leaving its surface ragged and torn. It stomped again. A bridge section fell into the river, leaving a jagged hole extending inward from the eastern edge.

Goblins shrieked warnings when Road Toad reached the side of the panzer. The zombie commander, heeding the goblin cries, frantically looked around. I let fly with my crossbow at the mini-cannon zombie as Road Toad leapt onto the rear of the