Garius was screaming terribly from the opposite side. And for good reason—the explosion had torn his arm off. But that was insignificant at the moment.
Kai grabbed the ankle of the orc shaman and yanked it hard downward. With a shriek and curses, the non-human went on a long flight to the bottom of the gorge. Taking a deep breath, the monk pulled himself up and moved to the upper side of the bridge walkway where he had been hanging. Together with the priest and the ranger, they crushed the enemy archers, who had lost their magical support. The mage's screams were fading—the brother and the bard were dragging him away from the battlefield toward Ennelia, who was rushing to help.
Clearing his mind of extraneous thoughts, the monk dissolved into the blizzard. They had managed to penetrate the enemy perimeter. All that was necessary now was to enter the fortress. The key to the back entrance was held by the commander, who was resting in the company of a couple of trolls at the other end of the camp.
— On three, — commanded the ranger. — One, two... three.
Each received a precise arrow straight to the skull. One of the trolls got a fire arrow, and the flash attracted nearby guards. They didn't have time to raise the alarm. The deacon didn't allow them to scream, and in a couple of seconds, they were bristling with arrows like hedgehogs.
They took the key from the commander's body and delved into the tunnels. It wasn't so bad in the tunnels. The decision to attack the fortress at night proved justified—most of the garrison was fast asleep. Their sleep became even more permanent after the trio pedantically and foully slit everyone's throats.
— This will come in handy, — Sarg tossed, emptying the wallets of the deceased.
Magic, unfortunately, could not penetrate tons of rock, and the fighters were left without communication with their comrades. They advanced quickly. Tunnel-scout-lightning suppression. Once, the priest dragged back a "tongue."
— Where is the general?! — a blow from a gauntlet knocked the goblin two meters back. The wretched creature writhed on the floor, spitting blood mixed with rotten teeth.
— Boss, boss is upstairs! In headquarters! — the beast shrieked while the deacon carved bloody patterns into its skin with a blade.
— We need a human. A prisoner, — reminded the ranger.
— Upstairs! Upstairs! The prison! Mercy! — the goblin's squeal cut off when the ranger's foot in a heavy boot descended upon its skull.
The three left the corpse-filled tunnels.
— What is this? — Sarg asked, pointing to a blood-stained stone of an unknown shape lying next to a disemboweled orc.
— I believe it's some kind of talisman, — suggested Kai, picking through a chest. — Hey, was there no key anywhere?
— A key?.. — Sarg replied distractedly, not taking his eyes off the pebble. — Ask the mage...
— The mage is in another hall. Do you smell burning?
— That's me setting rags on fire; there are no mages there, — Erkenbert intervened. — To smoke the bastards out of the bunker.
— Hmm... But shouldn't you be in there right now? — the Barbarian raised his eyebrows in confusion.
— No. I inscribed protective runes. Their backsides will get a good roast in there. Carrion, — the deacon spat blood onto the cluttered floor, which did not look any less dirty or bloody because of it.
The monk puffed, but still could not open the chest.
— Boys, help me open this damn box. Sarg, stick your huge tool in here and push hard. And you, Father, hit it right here.
The wood creaked and the lid flew off its hinges. There was nothing inside.
— Bah...
The ranger, glancing around stealthily, finally picked up the pebble and stuffed it into his pocket.
The pocket trembled and smelled of burning as the three approached a staircase covered in patterns.
— Aha! — Sarg exclaimed. — See! Magic!
He triumphantly raised the pebble above his head, but immediately dropped it, shaking his burned fingers.
The stairs led them into the inner courtyard. It would have been better if they hadn't; the yard was swarming with enemies.
— I have a plan, — suggested the monk. — We'll throw on some orc rags and in this darkness, and in the blizzard, we'll pass for garrison soldiers.
— The stupidest plan I've ever heard, — Erkenbert replied. — Here is mine—we sneak onto the walls, take out the sentries, and launch a hurricane barrage into the inner courtyard from there.
— I don't like it. You can't get through there; see those brutes with poleaxes? — objected the ranger. — By the way, one is heading our way.
And indeed—a vile bandit was walking straight toward them, who were hunkered down behind a pile of barrels. He opened one and began rummaging through it, pulling out raw fish and devouring it whole.
— Pss!
The orc picked his nose and stared in surprise into the darkness.
— Pss!
The orc picked his nose and stared in surprise into the darkness.
— Pss!!! Over here, — came an irritated whisper from behind the barrels.
The orc entered the dark nook. Immediately, one set of hands removed his helmet, while another hit him over the head with something heavy and blunt.
— We could have just slit his throat, — the deacon kicked the body.
— Yeah... I didn't quite think it through, — confessed the ranger. — What are you doing?..
Erkenbert, ignoring him, performed passes over the sentry's body. The sentry's body opened its eyes, rose, and stared into space. Sarg began to strike him frantically until he got hit in the eye by the deacon.
— Calm down! From now on, this is my servant. He is dead! — he addressed the zombie. — Servant! Take this bottle of bubbling explosive liquid, go over to those containers with the skull and crossbones drawn in chalk, and attract the soldiers' attention. And then blow everything up there.
— I think it's just a brainless corpse, and he doesn't understand you, — Kai objected.
— Shut up, — Erkenbert stared intently at the zombie, and the latter, with the bottle, plodded toward the far end of the inner courtyard.
Stopping near the dangerous containers, he growled and stomped his feet. Despite the shouts of the guards, he did not fall silent, and a dozen non-humans headed toward him. The zombie swung the bottle, and it burst in his fist; the liquid flowed down his arm onto the snow.
— Damn! — the priest jerked.
But Sarg, without losing a second, fired one last fire arrow straight into the puddle. Fire flared up and immediately engulfed the crates, which exploded deafeningly, spraying a terrible mustard gas everywhere, from which flesh peeled off the bones.
— It seems they are doing quite well, — Derien noted, watching the explosion from behind the fortress walls.
— Stop chatting! — Ennelia snapped at him. — Keep your hand steady, or it won't heal!
— Seems like it's all cleared up, right? — Sarg asked Kai, who was peering into the darkness.
— Clear. Let's go.
The warriors left their cover and, trying not to step on the mash of bodies, entered the fortress.
— We enter, take it, and leave, — the Barbarian announced the new plan.
— Take what, you idiot? Our goal is the warlord! — barked the deacon.
— You'll get a beating for calling me an idiot! — Sarg swung his axe.
— Shut up, — Kai said. — And fight these orcs and goblins instead.
An enemy squad was running toward them down the corridor. A bloody battle ensued, in which, naturally, Sarg, Kai, and Erkenbert won, while the orcs and goblins lost.
— Oh, look! Who do we have here? — asked Sarg, who loved to inspect and feel corpses.
— This one? Hmm... Looks tough, — provided a valuable observation from the observant and clever Kai.
— This is Gutma, the chief commander of the Horde, who was also our objective, — articulated Erkenbert, an admirer of military bearing. — He fell to my powerful magical strike, which shattered his ribcage.
— Sure, sure, — grumbled Sarg, inspecting and feeling the corpses for useful items.
In a small room nearby, they found Braston.
— People! You killed Gutma! The Horde will be defeated! My name is Braston, I am a scout from Targos! Ennelia and I went to scout the situation, but I was captured. Please, free me!
Erkenbert smirked:
— We'll free you if you have something that can reward our efforts.
Braston's gaze glazed over for a moment, then he shook his head.
— Sorry, I have nothing, but Lord Albrek will pay you a bonus for my rescue.
Muttering curses under their breath, the three took the fourth with them and, wading knee-deep through corpses, made the long journey back to their temporary camp.
— Braston!
— Ennelia!
— Braston!
— Ennelia!
Grimacing and turning away from the couple who had collapsed into the snow, the bard addressed the trio.
— Well. Got anything?
The Barbarian silently dumped a pile of gold and iron looted from the fortress out of his bag.
— Why in the snow... Am I supposed to collect them with magic now?..