The undead creatures at least didn’t move too fast, although the terrain made them hard to avoid, and fighting with Janaxia still over her shoulders was awkward, her legs still limp. Stathis could feel that Janaxia was still breathing, but was hanging limply, without making any noise. She stabbed forward, impaling a shambling corpse on the tip of her sword, as it swung back at her, too far away to hit. Golden sunlight flared down the blade, striking into the body. Where it struck, dead flesh melted away, the thing flinching backwards, before Stathis swung again, slicing through the shadowy mist that flowed it, slicing it asunder.

She could see smoke from either the camp or the castle ahead, giving her a direction to head in, and it was easier now that she wasn’t having to guide and follow Janaxia. It got easier once she was out of the twisting crags and gullies and onto more open terrain.

It looked like there was another attack, although it didn’t seem any more focused than any of the previous ones – a smattering of attackers, the Sethans coming to meet them. Darts of fire licked out, and one of the tents was afire, the silk blazing merrily away. It would have been helpful to have Mavrosa, but Janaxia still seemed to be out, as Stathis kept marching forward.

Even at a distance, Zarazonnia’s bulk was obvious, twisting around and flicking out with her tail, smacking a corpse hard enough to send it hurtling through the air, before blasting magic through the air to destroy the emerging wraith.

Stathis moved herself to a jog, glad that Janaxia was so light and easy to carry. Her clothing wasn’t fully melted either, tatters of silk still wrapped about her body. Probably best if she were dropped off first – she’d only complain if others saw her like this. What the hell had happened? It had been like sticking her hand into razor-sharp ice, although Janaxia had been reacting like she had been burned. Her skin was still reddened, sensitive looking like she had been sunburned, and Stathis felt more drained than she should have been.

Light was shining from inside of the castle walls, the barrier… was it brighter than before? It looked different, vivid swirls of light moving over the dome.

By the time Stathis reached the camp, the attack had been defeated, the twice-dead corpses getting sliced apart, just in case. Trying to avoid attention, Stathis moved as quickly as she could towards Janaxia’s tent, glad that no-one seemed to be paying attention.

As soon as she entered the tent, Sen stepped forward, looking concerned. Stathis dumped Janaxia onto the padded bedding. Sen started fussing over her, pulling a silken gown out and laying it over Janaxia’s body, but not before checking her over. She gave Stathis an accusing look.

‘It wasn’t my fault! Weird magical stuff happened, and it felt like she was draining my energy or something? We managed to find the enemy base, I think, but there’s some pretty major stuff going on there. Between that and the magical barrier, it’s not really a surprise that she’s acting strangely, but it would be nice if it didn’t make her cloths vanish or make her pass out.’

Sen wrapped Janaxia in the robe, checking her over, glaring at Stathis again when she saw the light burns down Janaxia’s back.

‘I was trying to heal her! It, uh, didn’t quite work right. Did anything happen here?’

‘From the sounds, I imagine there was another attack, Lady Stathis. I have remained here though, awaiting your return. It appears you were unsuccessful?’

Her voice was lightly accusatory, as she fussed over Janaxia, checking her wounds.

‘I don’t think she’s too badly hurt, but something strange and magical happened.’

A blaze of light suddenly lit the sky, Having rippled out from the castle. Stathis turned to see ripples and pulses of energy along the shield around the castle. The guards on the wall looked just as surprised, covering their eyes as they were blinded by the flare.

Back the way they had come from, darkness blasted into the sky, a rough-edged haze of shadow. Janaxia gave a low groan, slowly wriggling on Stathis’ shoulders, as she lowered her to the ground.

Janaxia’s clothing was starting to repair itself, the black silk and lace reforming, strung through with lines of red. Her eyelids fluttered open, a low groan coming from her mouth, but she didn’t yet seem fully conscious. Stathis tried to arrange her so that she was comfortable, Sen stepping away for a moment and coming back with a blanket, which she laid out on the ground for Stathis to roll Janaxia’s body onto.

Zarazonnia’s shape reared up, a sword flashing before she crashed down, striking through the head of a humanoid figure. The clamour of combat started – Stathis looked around, trying to see what was going on. A Sethan screamed, hacking down at his own leg – a mottled hand had reached up through the mossy ground to grab onto his ankle, gnarled fingers digging into flesh. His blade severed the wrist, but another arm appeared, grabbing upwards as well, this one dragging the man down. A head, the flesh decayed and withered, started to emerge, as the creature pulled itself up from the ground, the surface peeling away.

One of his companions ran in and stabbed it, blade easily sliding into old and withered flesh. Before Stathis could go and help, Janaxia gasped, sitting bolt upright. Her eyes slammed open, burning with black energy, lines of magical essence flowing around her and making the grass ripple. It started to wither and fade, turning an unhealthy-looking brown. Sen took a step backwards, hands making a protective gesture in front of herself, as Janaxia’s body started to hover off the floor, a wind whipping around the otherwise still air.

Her body slowly tilted, turning partially upwards, hands reaching upwards, clawed fingers reaching towards the sky, nails a bright and bloody red. She spoke a word, the sound and memory of it vanishing from Stathis’ memory as soon as it was heard.

Let the world fall, that the ancient powers may reign!

It sounded like Janaxia’s voice, but colder and more distant, her eyes still pitch black. As her body raised itself to being fully upright, feet not touching the floor, Stathis drew her blade. Janaxia cocked her head, slowly regarding her, as Stathis let light flow along her sword and then slammed it forward, pommel first, into Janaxia’s stomach. It knocked the wind from her, making her gasp and splutter, the powers fading for a moment.

Janaxia would almost certainly complain afterwards, but it would be easier to deal with then, hopefully. The dark cloud was getting closer now, ragged shapes flying through the air, as more corpses pulled themselves up out of the ground to attack the camp. These ones didn’t seem to have any animating spirits, going down when attacked, but the body parts kept moving, amputated hands grabbing at anything within reach, decapitated heads biting and gnashing.

Where Stathis’ pommel had struck Janaxia, it had seared away her clothing again, the flesh beneath an angry red. Before Janaxia could regain her footing, Stathis shoved her sword into the ground, feeling it slide into the mud, channelling her own power. Golden light shone in a rough circle around Janaxia, making her wince away from it, raising her hands to cover her eyes. When she lowered them, they were green again, her stance less determined.

She reached out a hand, sparks of light snapping towards her as she moved it closer to towards the barrier, keeping her away from the edge.

This seems unnecessary! Her “voice” was muted and quiet, distorted into odd echoes.

‘It’s for your own protection. Those things can’t cross inside.’ And Janaxia couldn’t get out! Her eyes had returned to normal as Janaxia tried stepping forward again, the barrier brightening as she got closer, her hand pressing against the magical forcefield.

I am able to fight.

‘That should last long enough for you to rest and regain your, um, arcane energies. After that, we can see what’s going on. You had a bit of a turn back there, and it’s safer for you to rest. Sen, if you stay with me, I’ll look after you.’

A zombie shambled close, knocking against the other side of the circle and then recoiling as if pained. Stathis had to move all the way around, before starting the task of destroying it, slicing through limbs and bone. It kept moving, even after being cut apart, but wasn’t much of a threat after she shattered the skull.

Inside the circle, Janaxia had assumed a mediative position, legs crossed and her hands pressed together in front of herself. She seemed to be back to normal? If she went strange again, then the circle would hopefully keep her contained for a little while, and give Stathis a chance to do something.

The rest of the camp was in chaos – some of the tents were aflame, fires having started somewhere in the attack. Fortunately, the attackers didn’t seem to have any cohesion or tactics – they refused to die, most needing several people to hold them down and slice them apart, to stop them rising up again, or to destroy the severed parts entirely beyond any capacity to attack again.

Zarazonnia was a force of destruction, her swords easily cleaving through bodies, slicing them apart, or using the bulk of her body to simply smash them. Even when they managed to get close enough to attack, her scales seemed to be tough enough to turn aside their blows until she could spare a blade to strike back at them.

A chill wind blew through the air, making Stathis glance upwards. The ragged flying shapes were just above now – she could see partially through them, their shapes ethereal and vague. One dove towards Stathis, a leering and ghostly skull-face seeming to laugh at her, hands outstretched. She swung her sword at it, feeling a queasy resistance in the air, thick shadowy smoke peeling out from the wound she had inflicted as she sidestepped it’s grab. It tried to retreat back into the air, but she sliced and cut it before it could move away, waving her blade through the space it occupied until the shadow faded. She stabbed the air a few more times, just in case.

Look! In the sky!

Stathis glanced backwards to see Janaxia pointing upwards, following the line of her finger. At the forefront of a V-formation of the flying wraiths was a robed figure, a wizard’s staff in hand, crazed black hair streaming as they flew. Janaxia hissed out the name in disgust. Poratia!

She flew towards the castle, where the protective dome was warping and shifting crazily, emitting random flickers and bursts of light. The guards were stood at the ready, loosing them upwards into the air, but lacked the range, the shafts falling back to earth without hitting anything.

Zarazonnia had seen this as well, and started bellowing orders, trying to get her own soldiers to form up. Some obeyed, but many were too busy fighting still, as more ghostly wraiths dropped from the sky to attack.

Stathis swung her sword through another one, cutting through thick air, stabbing into a ghostly skull and twisting her blade, the thing fading away.

‘Everyone! Try and stay together and watch out!’ Between the attacks from above and the ongoing assault from all around, maintaining any cohesiveness was virtually impossible, formations getting broken up as soon as they formed. The only stability was around Zarazonnia, her speed and size letting her slay anything that got too close, but the more that soldiers formed near her, the more her movement was slowed by their presence.

Up in the sky, Poratia had stopped, her robes billowing. She was high up enough that Stathis couldn’t make out the details of her movement, but a swirling circle of runic power had appeared beneath her, bright yellow against the dark sky. The light from the barrier started to move, fading as it shifted towards the highest point of the dome.

The soldiers on the walls were looking up at her, some drawing bows, but unsure if they should fire – at that angle, there was a good chance that any arrows would land back inside the castle.

‘Charge!’ Zarazonnia’s voice rang out, a ragged cheer coming from the Sethans, still trying to disengage themselves from the ongoing fights. The barrier was distending and starting to fracture now, motes of light floating away up into the sky. Poratia’s rune-platform was getting brighter, scabrous flakes falling downwards and obliterating the dome where they touched.

Zarazonnia led the assault, simply barrelling through anyone and anything that got in her way, charging through a tent, blades flashing, cleaving through the undead in her path. Even the wraiths couldn’t stop her, her enchanted blades striking them down, their shadowy presences puffing out of existence.

There wasn’t any way to stop the attack, but she’d have to try and keep the bloodshed to a minimum. Stathis ran forward as fast as she could, nowhere near as fast as Zarazonnia. She was heading straight for the gate, picking up speed as she slithered, peppering the air with magical bolts. When she reached the edge of the moat, she had to stop, but her body was long enough that she could lunge upwards and hack at the chains keeping the bridge up.

Metal cracked and splintered, one corner dropping, as Zarazonnia turned to attack the remaining chain. The defending soldiers were starting to gather themselves, arrows shooting down onto Zarazonnia, a few managing to penetrate her scales, but not enough to injure her.

Stathis charged forward, through a scrum, swiftly dispatching a pair of wraiths, then turning and slicing her blade through the spine of a zombie. It feel to the floor, still writhing, Sethans jumping on it and ripping it apart until the parts stopped moving.

The bridge slammed downwards, wood splintering as it fell into place. The arrows from above were coming down more heavily now, sticking between Zarazonnia’s scales. Some of the archers were targeting elsewhere, Stathis raising her shield and feeling arrows embed themselves into the wood.

Whatever was going on above was intensifying, lines of shadow and loud mingling together in a rapidly-moving spiral. A spray of lighting burst upwards from within the castle, powerlessly reflecting off an invisible barrier.

More figures appeared up on the wall – Stathis saw one that wasn’t in the armour of the soldiers, or a wizard’s robe, but looked like… Was that Semari? The figure waved at her, looking like they were about to jump down before someone else grabbed them – it was hard to tell in armour, but it looked like Pajaran?

Zarazonnia was attacking the portcullis directly now, metal screeching, the stout bars distending under the impact of her attacks. How much longer could it last? Although it was twilight-dark now, the sunlight leeching from the sky, the temperature dropping as darkness occluded the sun, the light fading.