Mageborn The Line of Illeniel by Michael Manning (top novels of all time TXT) 📗

the rest did their best to keep the things climbing the walls from getting to the top. For the most part it worked; though the creatures were strong even they couldn’t maintain a grip while someone with a spear was poking and prodding them loose. The only casualties so far were a few lost spears, whenever one would grab at a weapon before falling.

Royce walked over to where Dorian was watching the progress at one portion of the wall, “I’m damned glad they’re too stupid to use bows. They’d be a hell of a lot more effective against us than they were against them.”

Dorian’s brows went up as he thought about it. After a moment he answered, “I don’t know that they’re stupid. From what I’ve seen so far they’re more effective without weapons, one touch and they have the advantage. Not to mention they don’t seem to fear bodily harm. If we hold them off tonight though... I wouldn’t be surprised if they return with bows. I think they were hoping to get through the gates before we could stop them.”

A shout from Joe McDaniel interrupted their conversation, “David Tanner what the hell do you think you’re doing? Stop! Have you gone insane?!” Royce looked over and saw what had caused the commotion. David Tanner was standing behind the gate and he had already lifted the heavy bar that kept it shut. The heavy wooden doors were starting to swing open.

“That’s not David anymore! He’s been turned!” Royce yelled, but it was far too late. Every able bodied man was on the walls, it would take them far too long to reach the gates and shut them. The enemy would be inside within seconds. Royce started to head down the stairs but Dorian shoved him aside.

“Stay alive old man! We’ll need your skills if we survive this night.” Dorian ran down the steps, jumping the rest of the distance when he was still six feet from the bottom. Several more giant strides and he reached the gate, hoping to shut it before their foes realized the opportunity. He was too late. Before Dorian could stop them hands curled around the insides of the wooden doors, pulling them wider and one of the creatures stepped through.

Dorian switched tactics without missing a step. His sword was out and in his hand; the one that had stepped through fell back, missing its head and a large part of its left shoulder. The enchantment Mordecai had put on his sword made it impossibly sharp and it cut through flesh and bone effortlessly. “Someone shut the gate!” he bellowed as he waded into the undead that surged toward the opening.

The ones climbing the walls gave up and dropped down, to join those rushing at the now open gate. Hands reached out to grasp at Dorian but could find no purchase. Enchanted mail covered him from head to toe, preventing their touch from sapping his strength. Like a wave on a rocky shore the broke against him, giving way before his sword. They might have borne him under by sheer weight of numbers, but for the sword. With each stroke it swept limbs and bodies in twain. Driving forward he cut and sliced, reducing the undead bodies of men, women and children into helpless twitching pieces.

A fierce minute followed as he cut and slashed and eventually even the undead drew back. Unfortunately the gate itself was fully ten feet wide, and some of them would be able to get past him with the next rush. They gathered around him, ten, then twenty, then more, till at least thirty stood gathered silently around him. “Shut the goddamned gate!” Dorian was frantic, when they rushed him again he couldn’t possibly keep them from getting in, and it would probably only take a few to make a shambles of the lightly armored men inside. The wall was their best defense... but only if the gate was closed.

“I’ll be damned before I shut you out there lad!” That was Joe’s voice, “Get back in first.”

Dorian knew the moment he wavered or turned they would be on him, and pressing against the doors. There would be no way to close it against such a press. “Joe you shut that fucking gate now or you’ll wish you were damned! Do it!” As he spoke he saw a glimmer of eyes at the edge of the light, beyond the enemy facing him. A small boy stood there, hanging back from the fight… watching.

The enemy wasn’t waiting for Joe to decide and they rushed back at Dorian, now with strength of numbers. He saw one or two pass him, even as he cut at the others and he almost despaired, till he heard the heavy thud of the bar dropping down behind him. No longer tied to one spot he began to move, making it harder for them to mass themselves to bear him down.

Fighting wildly it seemed for a minute that they would be unable to stop him. Sweeping slashes removed reaching hands and sometimes whole arms, but no one could fight so many for long. His enemy had no natural fear and they pressed in, surrounding him. At last a hand caught him from behind, pulling at his shoulder and throwing him off balance and within seconds he was down, thrashing under a mass of foes he could not hope to defeat.

The only flesh Dorian had exposed was his eyes and jaw, where his helm didn’t cover. He struggled but hands and arms made contact at last and Dorian felt his strength draining away. I don’t want to wind up as one of these things, he thought to himself, but it seemed that would be his fate after all. He managed to pull his head away for a moment and put his face to the ground, trying to keep their deadly touch from his skin. There were so many on him that he never heard the gate opening.

“Alright boys! Now!” Joe’s