Six years earlier…

  Duke Alastair Braemar stood inside the large command tent behind a large table with a map of the town of Hejlsberg on it. With him was the second prince of the kingdom of Elgoss, Prince Edgar Dunkeld, and Duke Barron Breegar. Opposite of them on the other side of the large table were a number of Counts and other minor nobility that had contributed forces to the troops, many of which had died due to the betrayal of one Count Thomas Thayne during the final battle, in the war with the northern kingdom of Westerroch.

  The second prince himself had been injured in the battle due to the Count’s fleeing the battlefield at a crucial point that almost turned the tide in favor of the undead hordes that made up the bulk of the Westerroch armies. Fortunately, Duke Braemar’s troops were nearby and able to reenforce the second prince’s forces while evacuating the prince to a safer location so that he could be healed. Had the prince died, the current operation to capture the rogue count would likely have been an order to raze the entire town to the ground instead. As it was, most of the citizens of Hejlsberg had already fled once they found out what the count had done and that the king’s army was on its way to surround the once peaceful town. Those who had stayed behind found themselves living in a nightmare as unseen forces stalked the night, killing entire households whose corpses were missing with only the copious amounts of blood spattered in the homes as testament to what had happened to its occupants.

  Scouts had confirmed that, by the time the king’s army had arrived, there weren’t many living souls left in the town other than the count’s estate and the nearby barracks in the military district. A fair portion of the battalion that the count had command of had already deserted. Some of the troops still remained, but as to how many remained, the scouts were unable to get an accurate count.

  The town of Hejlsberg was a sizable town that once boasted a large population. It had its own school system to provide a basic education to the children of the town, which would aid them later in life, no matter what career paths they chose. It also had a decent shopping district with a good variety of shops that catered to all walks of life, both rich and poor. It housed a sizable battalion that numbered around a thousand troops with the military district sitting to the south east of the count’s estate, butting up against the property. More than half of the five thousand citizens of the town worked in the mithril mines that were accessed in the north western corner of the town, burrowed into the large cliffs at the base of the towering Mount Killeld, which formed a natural defense from a northern attack on the town. The cliffs stretched from the town’s western walls, all the way to the eastern walls, with the count’s estate backed firmly against them, centered in relation to the eastern and western walls.

  The current plan was for the king’s army to enter the town from the western, southern, and eastern gates at the same time, fanning out to cover the entire town, searching the many houses and businesses for potential survivors, if any, from whatever had been stalking the remaining citizenry. Oddly, according to the scout’s reports, it seemed as if the remaining troops in the barracks had been untouched by whatever had been killing the citizens. Once the army reached the barracks, they would offer the troops that had remained behind a chance to surrender in return for a lighter sentence than their lord, Count Thayne, and his family would receive, namely exile for the family and death for the count. The second prince wanted to give the count a chance to surrender as well, letting the man go out with some of his dignity intact, but he and all the gathered nobility knew that the count was a cowardly man and would likely have to be ferreted out with by a small strike team that was to be led by Duke Braemar. With the plans laid out, the nobility left the tent to pass orders on to the troops under them before settling in for a long night surrounding the town.

  The following morning, the king’s army struck with the rising of the sun. The troops flooded into the large town, branching off into smaller groups at each intersection with every new road. Following the initial rush to clear the streets, groups of four to eight soldiers would come behind and quickly clear the homes and buildings that the initial wave had left behind in their wake. The operation to clear the town and search for any surviving citizenry was going smoothly as the forces systematically made their way toward the north central area, where the count’s home resided. The only real resistance that was expected, aside from the count himself, was that of the troops loyal to the him in the military district, to the south east of his estate. Things, however, did not go completely according to plan.

  Several of the teams clearing the houses, buildings and businesses throughout the town disappeared, while others came stumbling out into the streets looking haggard, their armor torn and covered with gore as the stench of undeath lingered about them. Upon reaching the cellars, basements, and other underground floors, they had run into zombies, clearly reminiscent of the undead forces commanded by the king of Westerroch. Larger squads of solders were dispatched to the last known locations of the missing ones while the injured from the smaller squads were taken to be treated. Progress clearing the various structures in the town slowed to a crawl while the troops clearing the way on the streets slowed to further assist the efforts to clear the buildings so that they wouldn’t get to far ahead of the tail guard checking the buildings.

  Originally, the operation was expected to have only taken until around noon, but it instead lasted into the late afternoon. As was expected, the military district gave the surging army a bit more trouble due to the troops that had been stationed there, though the count’s troops themselves also numbered amongst the undead the that the king’s army faced that day. The militarized undead, displayed sighs of sentience, being able to use logic and reason to set traps and ambushes that further hampered the push to the count’s estate. Never the less, the king’s army prevailed and as the sun began to sink below the horizon, the army had the estate completely surrounded, troops filling the streets.

  ******************************************************************

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Alastair had entered Hejlsberg leading his forces through the western gate and had encountered no resistance either in the streets, nor the buildings being cleared by the tail guard. However, he had turned to the north upon his entrance to the town, taking the main body of his forces to the mines first. He had suspected that the count might have hidden some troops in the mines in order to catch the army unaware from behind, so he made that his first priority. Upon reaching the entrance to the mines, he motioned for the solders following him to hang back as a stillness hung in the air surrounding the mines.

  Striding towards the entrance, he unsheathed the large sword that was upon his back. He walked a few feet into the mine’s entrance and, giving a great shout, buried the sword’s large blade into the stone at his feet, sword sinking to the hilt. For a moment he paused there kneeling, his face full of concentration as he chanted, hands still holding tight to the sword’s grip, before a loud rumble echoed up from the depths. The sound got louder with each passing second and soon the source was revealed. Large roots, burst out of the stone from all angles, as if it were sand instead of solid rock, filling the shaft a mere twenty feet in front of the duke.

  With a sigh, Alastair began to slowly withdraw the blade from here it was anchored, the giant roots withdrawing as he pulled the sword out of the rock. When the large sword had been pulled free, the shaft in front of him collapsed into rubble, sealing access to and from the mines. He sheathed his weapon and made his way back to where his troops were waiting. Motioning for them to follow him, they continued on their way, the gates of the count’s estate as their next destination.

  Duke Braemar and his troops were the first to arrive at the estate just after noon and, after making sure that his forces were all accounted for and in place around the western third of it, he and a predetermined selection of the nobles made their way to the large gates that led into the estate proper, in order to wait on both Duke Breegar and Prince Edgar to arrive. While they waited, the duke sent some of his scouts to check on the progress of the other two groups as they slowly made their way through the town to the gates.

  ******************************************************************

  Prince Edgar looked at the large wrought iron gate whose two halves were supported by stone columns and grimaced.

  “You don’t suppose the bastard will come out on his own, do you?” The prince asked, glancing to the two dukes that were by his side.

  “Nay, lad.” Alastair said, shaking his head. “I do believe we are going to have to head into his little hidey hole and root him out into the open.”

  The prince glanced at Duke Breegar who nodded in agreement before adding, “It has never been in Thomas’s nature to do things the easy way. He has almost always had to be drug, kicking and screaming, towards whatever task he had set before him.”

  “I see…” Edgar stated, a disappointed look on his face despite it being the answer he knew would be given.

  “I’m not crazy about doing this in the waning light, but I want to end this today” he said, reaching both his hands out, he clapped the two older men on their backs before adding cheerily, “Well then, shall we get started?”

  The three approached the gates boldly, stopping about ten feet away. Duke Breegar looked to the twenty-year-old prince and nodded, before closing his eyes and signaling to the prince that he could begin.

  “Count Thomas Thayne,” the prince began, his voice amplified by Duke Breegar. “You have been charged with treason and are hereby stripped of all your titles, land, and worldly possessions. Your line will forever be excluded from the benefits and luxuries that came with your former title, bereft of such comforts, they are to be exiled to the northern nation of Westerroch to live out their days.”

  “I’m sure King Bandaerl will take good care of them and not enslave them to his will outright.” Edgar heard one of the nobles behind the trio say. He shot the man a cold look, making note of his house, before continuing.

  “If you come out now and submit to the authority of the Crown, I personally guarantee you a quick and painless death for your crimes. However,” The prince paused briefly, anger flashing in his eyes. “Should you resist in anyway, I decree by authority invested in me by my father, King Malcolm Dunkeld, I will personally drag you behind my horse, through the mud, all the way back to the capital, where whatever scraps are left will be drawn and quartered. Your remains shall be sent to the ends of the earth, and there will be no rest for your soul for all eternity.”

  As soon as the prince finished speaking, there was a sound as if someone had taken a sharp intake of air and Duke Breegar opened his eyes once more. Silence filled the air, as everyone waited for some response from the people housed in the mansion at the end of the long drive.

  Alastair looked through the closed gate towards the large manor in the distance, noting all of the dead vegetation the lined the long road that connected the gate to the manor proper. Closing his eyes he reached out, tracing the life energies of the plants closest to the road that still lived. As his senses reached the area where the deadened plants were, he felt a barrier preventing his senses from exploring further.

  Five minutes passed in silence, no replies coming from the manor in the distance.

  Alistair looked to the Prince Edgar and received a nod of confirmation before the prince flicked his wrist at the gates. A large stone spike jutted from the earth in front of the left pillar, slamming into it, causing it to burst with a loud boom. The left half of the gate itself, as well as a portion of the fencing on the opposing side of the pillar, was flung through the air, a mass of twisted metal. As the wrought iron came crashing down in a shower of stone and mortar, Alastair and the eleven nobles gathered with him quickly made their way through the opening, charging up the road.

  They encountered no resistance and were soon standing between the stables and the large front doors of the manor. Nodding to the noble on his right, a young man with teal colored hair who looked to be no older than 25 years of age, he then pointed at the heavy doors. The nobleman closed his eyes, softly chanting. Abruptly, his eyes opened and a powerful gale swept slammed in the door, rocking them on their hinges. Seconds later, another gale slammed into the doors, flinging them open with a resounding crash as the latch gave way.

  As the door was flung open, the earth lining the long drive gave way as a multitude of undead sprung forth, cutting the Alastair and the nobles off from the bulk of the army. The duke entered the manor, with the eleven nobles guarding the entranceway. As Alastair made his way deeper into to manor an unnatural stillness filled the air as an oppressive aura seemed to push down on him.

  Outside the manor, the nobles worked together to hold off the undead hordes as they were slowly backed into the manor. Luckily, the entrance formed a tight funnel which made their job easier and soon, rotting corpses were piling up, further blocking the entrance.

  Down the road, by the gates, Prince Edgar saw undead suddenly crawl from the earth and he moved forward with Duke Breegar, a small portion of their troops surging in after them as they fought their way up the long road leading toward the manor.