The hoard of unliving were gorging themselves in the street. The cavalry charge had damaged a few of them. That was of little concern fresh bodies where everywhere. More men and horses meant only more unlife to the mage and Scab. Even now the wight was selecting bodied from piles and among the orange coats to add to the ranks of the unliving.
Bags children had gone around and collected all the guns and powder the men brigands had dropped. They even collected some snacks for latter. Right now, they had pulled a few pieces of orange coats to the side and were feasting in a nearby alley.
The bees and spider were collecting survivors and packaging them. Three of the killer bees had been wounded. The blood stones had kept them alive, but they would not be able to serve without healing. It would be sad to lose them, but he could not spare the blood stones. The injured bees limped to him. He took out his knife and began to dissect the stones when the sounds of chewing were drowned out by the beating of hooves.
The cavalry did not seem to learn their lesson the last time. Albie looked into the night and saw the riders in their full plait armor mounted upon armored steeds. The mage stepped into an alley as 20 knights prepared lances. The dead rose from their meal and crowded the street.
The 2-cart street was filled at least 7 deep with the unliving. The blockade of rotting flesh stood ready to face the knights. The mage watched as the knights closed in. The knights screamed in rage as the lances made contact with the first dead men. Then the second and third rank were impaled the dead men still reaching for the riders. The added wait pulled the lances from the owners' hands. The horses continued to plow into the dead men reaching the fifth and sixth rank of the crowed before the warhorses were bogged down by the wall of grabbing arms. The charge had lost its momentum and the horses were pulled down. The armored men fell into the crowd having damaged over half the unliving in the street.
"Fire!" shouted a man from the other direction.
BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM
A volley of muskets slammed the back of the undead line. More corpses were splintered as musket slugs ripped through rotting flesh. Shattered bone and displaced meat fell to the street. The liquid unlife built up in the dead men spilled into the street. The black tar writhing in hunger having escaped its container.
Horses whined as the undeterred unliving crawled under their armored skirts and began chewing into the unprotected bellies. Knights got to their feet punching at the dead men with a great ferocity.
"Fuck the bayonets," shouted a man. "get in there and club those fuckers back to death! CHARGE!"
HURAA!!! Came a shout. A group of about twenty orange coats charged into the melee holding their muskets upside down. They met the line of dead men with the wooden butts of muskets. The knights rallied and pulled large warhammers from the downed mounts and began to deal great damage to the mob of unliving.
"Scab, focus the unliving on the soft ones," ordered the mage.
"Yes father," rang the wights voice in his mind.
The tide of dead men surged onto the men in orange coats trying to overwhelm them with the weight of bodies and suicidal fervor. The orange coats buckled under the wait of the dead men. Holding the dead off likely only because the sun knights were using their hammers to great effect on the other side.
At the mages unheard command, a buzzing came from behind him. A cloud of bees flew from the alley behind him. The violent insects drifted like a fog over the armored knights. The bees were on a mission to find ways inside the armor.
The armored men staggered as the bees crawled into eye slits and armored joints. The armored men could only watch for a moment as they saw the bee's heads poke into their helmets and spit acid into their eyes. They dropped their weapons and began flailing or trying to remove bee filled helmets. The knights to busy with the bugs could no longer aid the orange coats.
The tide of dead men began to overtake the fighters as the black fluid began to soak into the bodies in the street causing half eaten men in ripped orange coats to rise and grab at the terrified living men. Men began to panic. One man ran leaving the man to his left unprotected. He was soon dragged to the ground and all the other men decided it was now a race.
The line collapsed and many did not escape.
"Cowards!" shouted a booming voice.
The night grew bright and the air warm as a column of flame flew through the center of the street burning men living and not.
"I have never permitted retreat in the face of the enemy," said the familiar voice. "Dead or not it doesn't matter!"
Albie looked at the sound of the voice and saw a man with bronze skin and orange hair. He wore no shirt, but his chest was covered in gold necklaces and chains. Bright yellow stones that seemed to radiate light sprouted from the gold. Thirty in total but one had lost its light. Albie recognized the sun mage as Lord Brand.
The street was a burnt mess of charred flesh. Gunpowder popped in cartridge boxes the fleeing men screamed as they burned. The black fluid in the street caught fire like oil. The flame burned black and smelled horrible. The knights in the street who had not yet been killed by the bees inhaled the black smoke and grew still as their bodies cooked. The bees also sell into the flame as the burnt unlife rose to meat them.
The mage could feel the flames heat from his place in the alley.
"Scab, its time to go," ordered the mage.
"He's right there," responded the wight. "We should kill him now."
A group of not yet burned unliving charged the sun mage who raised a column of fire around himself as he walked down the street. The light burned the moon mages eye and sweat soaked his shirt. The dead could not approach him.
"We can't beet him tonight," declared the moon mage. "Take what unlife you can still save. We did well tonight. We will cut our losses now before we completely loose the lead."
The wight raged as it called the undamaged unliving back. The rest crawled and shambled at the sun mage. The titan spider emerged from a roof top and tried to swipe at the mage through the fire storm. It screeched in pain as it burned before fleeing into the night.
Albie turned to retreat down his alley. His first pail walker stared at the tower of fire. Its milky eyes almost clearing for a moment. Perhaps remembering some part of its living past but following its master's orders to fall back for tonight.