~~Darian~~
Discovering that the red-eyed guards on the bridge were actually undead was an unwelcome surprise. He should have guessed it; not the first time he'd fought Andromeda's summoned skeletons.
Skeletons shouldn't have been able to scream, though. They didn't have any flesh or throat or muscle. They shouldn't have been able to do anything but lay on the ground, like dead should. But his eyes and sword told him differently as his blade hacked through bone, bone, and more bone. Their arms fell, their heads, sometimes their legs, but every fight was a dance with death in a way he wasn't used to. Cut the arm off a living, breathing thing, and they went down. Stab them in the gut, and they died a slow, miserable death, and they'd be of little use for the rest of the battle. Get them in the neck and they died instantly.
The skeletons didn't care if you cut off their head. If you managed to get through the waist of the breastplate and into the stomach, again they did not care. If you cut off their arm, they reached for a weapon with their other arm and kept coming. One mistake and he'd get a spear in the face, and making a mistake would be easy with the skeletons ignoring all the rules.
Worse was their screams. Their mouths opened, their eyes flashed red, and a raspy sound filled his ears, like a wailing wind mixed with scraping rock against rock. And they screamed from their bodies. The heads were lifeless once removed, and their glowing red eyes faded quickly, but the headless corpses still screamed the odd sound, and stabbed at them with brutal tenacity. Like Otrera had noticed earlier, the guards were dumb, but that didn't mean they couldn't keep stabbing and stabbing until they were in bits.
He'd rather have fought the manticore, but Chimera's surprise attack had dealt with them.
Pegasus rode up the hillside, wing ruined, Perseus on his back. Darian winced and looked back at Medusa. She looked destroyed. It had to be done, and Pegasus would understand, but he didn't have time to explain that to her. He only had time to keep hacking away and keep moving forward. Don't stop, don't let the enemy adapt to the insanity of their strategy; it was its only true value, the absurdity of walking up to the sorceress's front door.
He slammed his shield out and buried the huge disc of black in the chest of one of the guards. The skeletons were armored, with shields and spears of their own, and killing them was becoming less of a battle, and more of an exercise in endurance. But they were just skeletons, light, and as he started to crash his shield into them with all his strength behind the swing, the results became explosive. Bones shattered, limbs fell away, and the undead started to crumble under the force.
But just as he was getting into a new rhythm, he looked up at the sound of someone's voice.
"You will all suffer for this. And Otrera. You betray me? After all I've done for you?"
He found a moment to get his breath. What few skeletons remained were either in front of him, and being stomped into powder by Chimera, or behind him. The mob was doing good work, swarming over the remains of the guards, and attacking the few the three of them had missed.
Darian struggled to get his lungs working again. Sweat started to bead on his forehead, and his muscles in his arms started to ache. Only a little, only enough to tell him he was going to get tired soon. Bad time for the sorceress to appear.
Otrera raised her voice. "You deceived me! Tricked me! These people do not deserve to die!"
Darian frowned and glanced back at the mob. A swarm was too accurate a word. Locusts. He couldn't entirely agree with Otrera.
Lightning struck, close enough to blind him for a moment, and loud enough to shake the very ground he stood upon. He gasped hard, and caught himself holding his breath as the thunder worked outward. He knew the feel of lightning, the sound of thunder. Knew them too well.
"You bring a swarm of insects to my door, and hope to do battle? So be it." Andromeda slammed her staff down from on high, and unleashed havoc.
Red eyes started to join the white sorceress. More. And more. More until Darian was left blinking, eyebrows raised, and looking around to see if the other skeletons were indeed destroyed. They were.
But the wailing wind cry of a thousand undead filled the air, and stopped everyone. Chimera finished with the last of the guards before him, reached up to his chest to pluck a spear from his flesh, and stared at the oncoming cloud of red dots. Otrera's raised sword slowly fell to her side. The mob behind him all came to a standstill as Medusa slithered up to stand near Darian.
The eyes of the undead flowed over the mountainside road, but did not follow it. Like water, they poured over the mountain and down toward them, stopping on the mountain road only long enough to run across its width and then back down upon the nearly flat cliff face.
As they came into view, lit by stars and torchlight, more people began to gasp, and step back. The eyes of the undead running down the mountainside, ignoring the road, were literally running down the cliff wall. Their arms were held high, and the glint of metal caught the moon from each hand. These undead had no armor, sported no spears or shields, but swords and axes instead, and their mouths were open as they screamed their death wail upon them.
Otrera bashed her sword and shield together. "Flanking positions! Darian, Medusa, up the road. Chimera says you can fight, Medusa, prove it. Start shooting, and when it's time for melee, transform."
Medusa slithered up between them. "B-b-bu—"
"No buts! Shut up, get over here. Chimera, here next to me, away from the cliff side. They're not shields and spears, they're swords, axes, and a lot of them. You'll get hacked to pieces if you take them head on."
Chimera obeyed. Not a moment of hesitation or even a glance the queen's way to check if she knew what she was doing. Giant had a lot of faith in the Amazon.
"And you!" Otrera pointed to the mob that had slowly come to a stop behind them. "Form ranks! Shields at the front! Xiphos swords second row, Kopis swords third row."
A new thunder joined them from the small warrior woman. Otrera cut through the noise, the panic, the growing cries of the mob, and shut them up hard. Darian took a step back from her, eyes wide, as the queen pointed her sword to the crowd and then where she wanted the line formed on the center of the bridge.
They looked to each other, to Patrius, Tritus, to Hieremias, but Otrera took a step toward them, and frowned.
"Now!" Thunder once again.
And the people listened. No longer a riot, or a mob. Now they were an army. They pushed past each other, did their best to get into the positions given them, and prepared themselves. They knew each other at least, and working together was something many had done before, Darian could see. They got shoulder to shoulder at the shields, swords up and ready.
How could such a tiny woman make such a loud noise?
Otrera bashed her sword and shield together again, and turned to face the oncoming tide.
"First row! You will defend the man next to you with your shield, and you will aim for the legs of the undead in front of you. Stay low, shield up. Second row! You will hack through the arms of the undead that break against the shields. The enemy will fall forward and onto the first row, so be ready. Third row! You will deal with any and all breaks in the defenses." And again, she bashed her sword and shield together. "We will weather this storm!"
The swarm had become the defending wall, and the enemy had become the oncoming swarm. Not part of the plan, not at all, and Darian gulped as he looked between the mob and the wave of undead running at them. Enough red dots, it looked like a river of red was streaming down the mountain.
But Darian's heart settled as he watched the mob fall into formation, and their wide eyes harden, along with growing — if nervous — smiles. Damn that woman could lead.
The four of them turned to face the wave, and prepared themselves. A loud snap of a string forced Darian to look Medusa's way, and he smiled as the gorgon unleashed one of the large arrows onto the waves. And another, and another. She shot fast, and pulled the arrow deep each time, deeper than any human could. And each time, the arrow crashed against the rocks above them with a visible crack of light. The unusual, large tips of each arrow must have been tearing through the rock and creating sparks. Skeletons started to shatter. Wherever Medusa's arrows managed to hit one, the undead ceased to exist as the arrow ripped it apart.
But there were hundreds of them, and while each shattered skeleton brought a cheer from the crowd, it did little to stem the tide.
And when the tide finally came to join them, it was a sea of bone. Swords and axes running fast and wild as the skeletons landed upon the bottom of the mountain road, and ran toward the bridge the four monsters blocked off. Wails of unnatural death reached a new height.