The arrows sent by the clumsy zombies flew without much precision. Two of them hit only the ground; one harmlessly bounced off the justicar's pauldron. Two more hit the count's bodyguards, but were stopped by their mail armor.
Or so they thought at first.
"Aaaagh!" a man screamed. He had pulled out the arrow from his arm, but it was too late. The conic tip had pierced the mail and left a small scratch, through which Dark magic was spreading through his body.
"Hold on!" Samuel shouted, rushing to the man.
He read an incantation, and Light came from his man. Justicar Esvan wasn't just a templar, he was a paladin—a person trained both in combat prayers and direct combat. Although his Light magic wasn't very powerful, it was enough to banish weak Dark magic like this spell.
But the other bodyguard was screaming in pain, too, and his comrades watched this with fright and confusion.
"Give the wounded holy water!" Samuel shouted, while his magic combated that of the necromancer. "Someone, bring down these zombies!"
A bodyguard tried to give his comrade a vial of holy water to drink, but the agonized man could only scream. Frustrated, the helper just poured the holy water on the wounded—but his flesh sizzled on contact!
The wounded bodyguard was already dead, and the holy water helped only to bring eternal rest to his body.
The zombies were drawing their bows again, but Samuel's clerics were already approaching. They had spells that could destroy them.
Aleric, who was watching this from an embrasure on top of the wall, saw the clerics too. Their tall hats stood out in a crowd.
'Damn it… If I tell the archers to lie down again, they will be able to do nothing. But if I keep them up… Maybe they will shoot at least a few people. Or lure these clerics closer. Will I be able to kill at least a single cleric before these bowmen at the back shoot me full of arrows? How many of them are there? Looks like… Twenty, maybe? Not a lot, at least.'
Aleric chewed his lip tensely.
This entire siege was going even worse than he imagined it would. For a start, there were many more enemies than he expected to see!
He spent days coming up with a way to place Pain spells in metal and enchanted dozens of arrows and weapons with it. Although these artifacts were one-use only, they were still deadly.
However, the enemies that Aleric wanted dead the most were also those too armored to be taken down by an arrow! Unless the archer actually knew how to shoot.
Aleric doubted he'd be lucky enough for his zombies to shoot the leader of the templars in the eye even on a second try.
Instead, he ordered his zombies to direct their shots at the clerics.
While they chanted their spells, a volley of arrows flew in their general direction, and although most missed, one hit a cleric's hip.
He screamed, clutching the wound. His own Light energy was already fighting off Aleric's spell, but he still had an arrow deep in his hip! Clerics had almost no armor besides the scale mail.
An instant later, two rays of Light hit the archer zombies, burning and bringing down two of them. One of the count's bowmen also shot a zombie. The arrow hit its throat, but it continued to draw its bow without the slightest inconvenience.
But Aleric realized that it was his chance. The army below continued to march toward his walls and gates, but the bowmen got distracted by his archers.
Perfect targets. The clerics were less protected from the actual arrows than from spells, but the archers were protected from neither, and also very dangerous.
Aleric gathered Dark energy in his hand, channeled it through the Spine Staff, and stood from his cover. Within a second, he threw five entire Pain spells at the bowmen in a rapid volley of magic bolts!
Unprepared, they didn't start dodging early enough. And the distance to them was just enough for the spells to be effective.
Aleric's spells hit four archers, missing only one. They fell in agony, and their screams made their comrades waver—but they still drew their bows, trying to shoot Aleric.
He ducked behind the parapet again, and just in time to pass several arrows under his head.
Through here, he couldn't see his undead puppets, but Aleric still led them to blindly grab and claw whoever they could. He felt them being quickly brought down.
'Now they know my position. I can't stand up again,' he thought.
From now on, he could only suck it up!
His archer zombies continued to shoot the clerics, only to be brought down one by one. Two clerics ended up wounded, but not dead, and were still trying to heal each other. Still, Aleric doubted they would be of much use in the rest of the fight.
Now, nothing at all was stopping the enemies from approaching the gates with the battering ram. The twelve men who carried it squared their shoulders, preparing to swing it, while others stood nearby and waited for the gates to open.
Those who had shields were raising them, just in case of more arrows—but most stood, not defending from more arrows and not expecting them.
The small losses were scary, but they didn't bring down the army's battle spirit.
"Swing the ram, men!" Count Arstain commanded. "We will cleanse this den of monsters and return home with glory! The Mirkhill Fort will be purified after all these years. The Church is with us! The Light is with us!"
A thunderous cheer of two hundred warriors echoed him. If they had ladders, they'd start climbing the walls with enthusiasm, despite the danger.
But unbeknownst to them, Aleric still had one more surprise in his sleeve!