Two cried out and fell. One deflected an arrow with a shield made of bones. The last arrow missed, but the [Lord] was charging. He raced up the slope, through the trees.

Aiming at the [Necromancers]. They tried to stop him, loosing spells, but the trees provided cover. The

[Lord] hit them a second before his retainers. He slashed down and laid one [Necromancer]’s face open.

“Forwards! Kill the spellcasters!”

The [Lord] bellowed, which was a sound tactical choice insofar as Seraphel understood the battle.

Undead needed [Necromancers]; otherwise they just collapsed or lost their direction.

However, she was surrounded. The [Princess] saw the undead around her waver—and then break away.

“Retreat! Retreat!”

The [Necromancers] hadn’t been prepared for their foes to reach them. They pulled the undead back, but the mounted fighters and the [Lord] were among them. Seraphel saw two more [Necromancers] fall.

But their leader was made of sterner stuff. And higher-level. He planted his staff and a wall of bone cut off the other [Riders]. He then aimed at the [Lord].

“Lord Lantal—die!”

Spikes made of ivory shot from the ground, impaling the [Lord]’s horse. He threw himself off the back.

He was quick. The man sprang to his feet and lunged forwards. The [Necromancer] actually blocked the blade’s thrust with his staff. He snarled and black magic shot from one hand. He missed.

The [Riders] charged left and right around the barricade, dividing the [Necromancers]. As the others fell, the undead lost their cohesion. They became aimless, and, no longer under attack, the Thronebearers hacked them apart.

“Lady Seraphel! Behind our shields!”

Ser Dalimont was alive. He hacked one skeleton to pieces, and the others planted themselves around her. Seraphel nodded, her face pale. She stood there until the battle was over.

“No! My apprentices!”

The [Necromancer] howled. He stumbled away from the [Lord] as another wall of bone rose, cutting the man off from him. He was bleeding—but he made the other zombies and ghouls block the [Lord] as he ran.

“Follow him! Bring him down!”

The [Lord] tried to follow, but a Ghoul—the bounding, more agile version of a zombie—leapt on him. He stabbed it in the chest and had to kick it off his blade. The [Necromancer] raised his staff. Black fog enveloped the forest, stymieing the [Riders] and causing their horses to rear. By the time it cleared enough for them to ride through the trees—

He was gone.

——

A bit afterwards, as the last undead was brought down by an arrow from afar, Seraphel du Marquin stood among her Thronebearers.

The rescue party had been small. Two dozen men and women, the guards for another group headed down the same road at the same time. They’d left the carriage with a few [Guards] and rushed to join the fighting.

“You arrived just in time, Milord Lantal.”