Call of the Abyss [Book 2 Complete]

Snap!

Crack!

Bones broke and shattered from the impact of broadhead arrows, the sea of undead below bursting into shrapnel as though the bone sea had spawned geysers.

Julia was surprised by the archers' efficacy. She wasn't very hopeful initially about the prospect of arrows against bone. However, these broadhead arrows chipped away at them well enough.

She had thought targeting the skulls with bodkin arrows would've been a better bet, but seeing the sheer number of undead now, she concurred that wide-range destruction was a better tactic than attempting focused fire on weak points. She was never very knowledgeable on archery anyway.

Curiously, the elves' bows had a strange curve at their tips. They appeared to be Motherwood in make—unsurprising, as no expense would be spared for Veshari's final defense—and had the shape of a longbow that Julia had seen plenty before. However, the end of the limbs, just below the tips, curved back toward the direction the arrow would be flying.

This was something Julia hadn't seen before, so she was unsure if it was a unique type of bow or some form of elven magic. She knew the Weavers could work wonders on materials, so it would not surprise her to learn this was their work.

The undead fell in droves, but the unharmed remained completely motionless. None so much as glanced at the destruction around them. They merely watched, as if waiting for some ungiven signal.

The friction in Julia's mind began to grow. Why were they organized like this, so close together as to be inconvenienced? Why were they allowing themselves to be slaughtered without response? This made no sense.

Julia watched the destruction as she pondered, noting that many arrows were glancing blows. They chipped bone where they impacted, but unless a critical structure, like a femur or spine, were impacted, the undead were largely unaffected.

"Aim for the spines! Strike the neck so that their skulls detach!" she shouted.

Arrows were not unlimited. While the opening volley rendered large-scale destruction, as the Nashiin's numbers thinned, making every arrow count would become increasingly important.

The elves were loosing at will—the plan to do so after the opening barrage had apparently been discussed beforehand, as Julia hadn't heard Avelrûn issue any further commands.

Skeletons fell, heads detached from their bodies. Arms, legs, bits and chips of bone scattered across the ice like hail, and still the army remained motionless.

Julia pulled her own speak slate out of her bracelet before placing her finger over the center. Her slate was different from the others she'd made. Most were attuned to specific slates. They were sort of paired, as though there were an invisible string connecting them.

Hers, however, could connect to every slate she'd made. She had envisioned the enchantment using the thread metaphor that Braden had taught her so long ago. She saw individual threads connected to different points on her slate, and she merely had to focus on any of those threads (or all of them) to both send and receive messages.

"Seyatha?" she asked, focusing on one particular thread this time.

"I am here," Seyatha answered, stoic as always.

"Our initial barrage is away. The soldiers are shooting at will, and the damage seems extensive. However, we're seeing some strange behavior.

"The Nashiin are so crowded together that they likely can't even move without bumping into each other. They also made a huge ruckus when they showed up, probably trying to hammer our morale.

"However, now that the battle has actually started, they are simply standing there taking the rain of arrows. No amount of damage has managed to make them move thus far. They're not even trying for the wall. They're just standing there—dying," Julia explained.

Giving voice to her thoughts made the strangeness of the situation even more clear to her. She glanced over at Avelrûn to see him in hushed conversation with Yathil. Hopefully that meant they were also discussing how unexpected and nonsensical the situation was.

"That is…very different from what I am hearing around the rest of the city. Reports are that the Nashiin immediately began attempting to scale the wall—some even charging before our opening barrage was away.

"The order was passed down to activate the wall's slick, so your section should already be secreting its oils to prevent climbing. You may not have noticed if you have not had any climbers yet…" she trailed off, probably thinking about what this could mean.

"I do not know what the meaning of this is. We know your quadrant is likely to see the most severe conflict, so this is surely some sort of machination of the enemy.

"Without knowing more, we can only watch and wait. Be wary, trust yourself and your instincts, and inform me of any changes when it becomes realistic," Seyatha finished.

"Will do," she replied, knowing a dismissal when she heard one.

Just as she put the slate away, she heard Avelrûn begin issuing orders.

"Vines! Drop the vines!" he yelled.

Soldiers along the wall in front of Julia gathered up coils of vines from boxes positioned near the staircases at the back of the wall. Julia had expected those boxes to contain arrows and supplies for the battle, but what could they possibly do with these vines?

The wall itself was mysterious to Julia, as she had not been given even an overview of its capabilities. It seemed participating in the battle was all Avelrûn would allow her. He had no intention of informing her of the city's most intimate defenses, being an outsider.

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Could these vines be some sort of defensive—

Before she could finish speculating, the vines were secured to the intertwined branches that made up the parapet (or whatever this equivalent was called), and soldiers jumped and slid them down to the front of the wall. They drew melee weapons and formed up into squads, as though ready to skirmish with the Nashiin on foot.

"What the fuck is this?!" Julia shouted in confusion.

"Now, soldiers! Press the advantage! For the Mother! Charge!" Avelrûn roared from the battlements.

The soldiers bellowed to match his energy before beginning an organized charge into the mass of undead.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" Julia screamed, stomping over to Avelrûn in a rage.

"The undead rightly fear our might. Now is the time to push—prove to them that the Jadhariin have teeth, for those who would make us bare them!" Avelrûn gloated, his eyes to the sky, as though carrying out a divine commandment.

"Are you fucking stupid?! Why even have a wall if you're going to fight in front of it?!" Julia yelled, pounding her finger against the center of Avelrûn's chest plate.

"Step back, outsider. Your forces have not been called to action yet. Do not question leadership in the midst of battle," he sneered with a condescending look that contrasted sharply with his previous starry-eyed bravado.

Julia's mind was awhirl with thoughts and accusations. Was this Avelrûn's sabotage? Was he trying to weaken the defences on the wall? Why were the undead still standing there, if that was the case?

Before she could process her thoughts enough to respond, she felt a firm grip on her arm.

"Come, Julia. We will help where we can, but we cannot afford to waste time attempting to reason with a fool," Ithshar said, gently tugging Julia back to her squad.

Julia let herself be led away, though she seethed inside. Her guts clenched and battered against each other as she thought about the soldiers that were likely going to die for no reason.

Avelrûn's face seemed to struggle between a sneer and grimace, having difficulty deciding to focus on his condescension for Julia or his insult at Ithshar's words.

Julia spared a glance at Yathil—surely he would understand how stupid this was. He caught Julia's eyes and gave the faintest of shrugs before returning his focus to the battle below.

That's it? Oh well, what can you do? Half our forces have just abandoned their fortifications to engage in a melee and likely die, but oh well?!

Ithshar placed both hands firmly on Julia's cheeks and turned her head so they were looking each other in the eyes.

"Peace, Julia. The battle has just begun, you cannot lose your head so early. Focus. Think not of what's been done, but what still needs doing. We will help where we can, but you cannot override a Root's order.

"Attempting such will not only cause more chaos and confusion but potentially disqualify you as a leader in the eyes of the troops. Many of these soldiers—most of them—do not know you personally.

"If you force them into an ultimatum of their allegiance, they will choose to follow a Root who has served for centuries. Every single one of them will.

"We must remain wary, but we also cannot cause more confusion within our own ranks," she lectured.

She held Julia's face in her hands, her gaze unwavering, until Julia let out a long breath and nodded.

"Let's hope our doom is at least delivered by the Nashiin themselves. I would go to the grave satisfied if I died valiantly in battle. If my death arose from an ally's incompetence, I doubt my spirit would ever rest," Julia muttered as she once again took her position at the head of her squad.

Ithshar, and many of Julia's squad, chuckled at the comment—apparently spoken louder than she intended—but the whole wall's attention was immediately drawn by a change on the battlefield.

The elves had advanced on the Nashiin and set upon them like farmers reaping wheat. Nashiin fell faster than stalks, and the formations advanced into the undead ranks quickly. However, for the first time since the battle began, the Nashiin moved.

Though the forces in Julia's vicinity numbered around fifty (prior to some those forces descending), this was far from the only assemblage on the eastern quadrant. There were many clustered groups of soldiers, and the eastern quadrant was overseen by four separate Roots: three for each quadrant, four for the eastern quadrant, and two in Veshari overseeing logistics.

The portion of the quadrant under Avelrûn's direct command had all sent around sixty percent of their forces to the ground, where they began cutting into the Nashiin army. This led to the former shoreline of the sea of undead looking more like undulating waves on a beach, with gaps being made in their long offensive line as the elves worked.

Now, the previously-motionless undead began to march. The Nashiin at the front, in the unbroken section of their offensive line, turned inward and began marching on the elven squads' flanks.

The sea was closing around the elves, as though to isolate them like air bubbles in the ocean. They were going to drown.

However, when the Nashiin fully encircled the squads, they stopped—once again becoming motionless.

The elves paused for a moment, now formed into a circle with their backs to the center, enabling them to attack in all 360 degrees. Seeing the undead remain motionless, they resumed their slaughter, cutting into the undead nearest and moving through the masses, leaving none in their wake.

The Nashiin moved to close the gaps created by their fallen compatriots, but otherwise they remained still. Their only activity seemed to be to keep the elven squads isolated into their own little bubbles, surrounded by the undead sea.

"What the hell is happening here?" Julia wondered.

Scrape.

Thud!

Scrape.

Thud!

The sound—it started again. The same sound that'd accompanied the Nashiin's initial march. The fog was gone from the battlefield but for the farthest backlines, yet Julia still couldn't see the noise's origin.

"Do not hesitate! Keep cutting them—ghack!" Avelrûn began, before his voice was cut off with a wet gag.

Julia looked over in shock to see a sword piercing him through the head, from the bottom of his chin, out through the top of his head.

The helmet he'd been wearing clanged to the ground, the force of the sword coming out the top of his head having thrown the helmet a full stride away. It clattered with a deafening clamor in the sudden silence that befell the defenders.

The shock from seeing their leader, a Root who'd led the marsh for centuries, killed instantly—a blow straight to the brain—before their very eyes had settled a silence over the wall like a wet blanket. Though the greater shock came from the blade that pierced Avelrûn.

It was a sword with a single edge—a sword made of Motherwood.