Short Story: Cerebis

            Cerebis Darmor kneeled before the alter of the broken church he and his men took refuge in. All around he could hear the deafening moans and wails of the unliving, as they scrapped, scratched, and pounded against the wooden walls and pushed themselves against the barricaded doorway. The stench of rotting flesh was strong, and it’d only be a matter of time before those hollow carcasses broke in and ravaged them.

 His lay there dying in agony, few would hold on through the night, if the barricade held that long, and it was only he and Branigan that could truly fight, however he had suffered a deep wound in his left arm. Cerebis did all he could to heal it, but the paladin’s light had grown dim and weakened from the fight with the vicious horde outside. Now he barely had an ounce left for one last spell, and he doubted it would be much when the time came.

 For the moment he was glad to be here, in the safety of the church, how brief that may be, for certainly now it was a maelstrom of chaos as the undead fiends circled around this small building. The sky was dark this night, the moon and stars swallowed in a sea of black clouds hanging high overhead. The only light now came from the wooden alter, and even that grew dimmer by the minute as the evil of this place no doubt began to take its hold.

 Cerebis and his men had set out, on horse back to this distant town in order to stop whatever evil that began to take its hold. The town had pleaded to send help for weeks and the Chapel had finally agreed, sending he and a score of paladins to rid whatever dark hold was taking place.

 How foolish they were to wait, thought the man, by the time they had arrived all had been lost, the town at first thought to be abandoned as they road in. It was desolate and quiet, and to the paladin’s other senses there was a black veil that hung heavily within. They road deeper and deeper, finding no signs of life, nor any corpses to indicate a possible battle, all the while their horses whined and neighed in complaint at being brought further in.

 They probably should have listened to the wiser beasts, and Cerebis, being the commander of the group, should have heeded the advice of the more experienced veterans in their group. But he was determined to find out what it was that happened and road in force. What a fool he was. They all heard the moaning that rose ever more as they neared the town center. It was when they rounded a bend that they witnessed what horrors had happened.

 Standing upright with a slight hunch their bodies swayed in the soft breeze, they all quietly moaned to each other, clothes ragged, torn, and faded they all were facing away. Cerebis knew what he was witnessing, he had heard the tales, the stories, and had even been trained to battle such monsters, but this was his first time ever seeing it first hand. And their fears were only confirmed when one of the small things turned around to face them. It was a small child from the looks, a girl, her skin was a sickly white, her cheeks and lips were blackened and her eyes were a pale blue as she looked up in wonder.

 For a moment there was an uneasy stillness as the rest began to turn and face the small band of paladins, their horses frozen with fear and he could not blame them. Many of the men let out silent prayers to their god and their hands quickly went to the hilts of their blades, though for some reason none drew steel.

 Cerebis’ eyes fell back to the child, she looked up at him curiously and he felt his heart leap, then suddenly the thing growled and charged at them and at that moment the horses reared up, crying aloud at the charging monsters. The beasts were battle-worn as well as many of their skilled riders, though the shock of an undead mob charging at you never changed. Many of the men panicked as much as their animals, the more experienced simply struggled to calm their mounts as the horde washed over them.

 Cerebis was at the front of the line and took on the brute of the force, being knocked from his mount, as well as many others as the poor beasts were dragged down under, being ripped to shreds by the relentless undead. Bitterly he felt lucky that had happened, as terrible as it were, it gave the men a distraction to rally up and stand against them as they fed on the raw flesh of their hapless horses. With a prayer to his god, Tyden, Cerebis led the first charge and smashed into the mob of rotted flesh, their enchanted swords and maces flaying about as they beat and sliced through the monsters. The paladin remembered well the sickly sounds of their rotted flesh as he cut and carved his path in, occasionally bashing away their hollowed husks as the monsters charged at him without heed or worry of their own safety. It was Cerebis who led the spearhead assault that got them through the thick mass of rot, but as they neared closer to the middle the men realized their mistake in that.

 For all their strength, all their spells that put the dead to rest, many still rose back, despite half their bodies suffering fatal injuries, it was nothing to these unfeeling, unliving creatures. They rose and his men fell, they twisted, turned, and fought in their death throes, desperate to break free of the rotted horde. Evil closed in on them and the darkness of those monsters soon began to snuff out the light they carried, their spells no longer worked as they wore themselves out from beating the same foe only half to death.

 It was soon that Cerebis Darmor, Brinigan, and a few others had to flee after having their numbers nearly wiped from the overwhelming horde. But there was nowhere but in the town itself to run. Somewhere in that scrap the undead had managed to surround and block the way out and the surviving group were forced to run to the only safety they knew left; the chapel.

 Barricading themselves in they found a moments rest, and now as the horde continued to close in, and knowing all seemed lost, Cerebis offered one last prayer to his god, gathering what little strength was left and turned towards the door.

 Brinigan looked grimly at him, his sword in one hand as he leaned himself against the wall, two others sat in agony by his feet. The man nearly nodded in understanding and readied himself to face the horde. Although he could not go outright and fight them like Cerebis planned to do, he could stay here and defend the fallen troops should any—or when any get pass him.

 Placing a gauntleted hand on the door way he breathed in a sigh, offering perhaps his last prayer and pushed aside the barricade, bursting forth, his sword held high in a two-handed grip and prepared to die. Though, to his surprise, the man did not come face-to-face with the horde—literally. Something had grasped their attention and their backs were turned, hardly noticing the lone paladin.

 Out in the mass of undead creatures, Cerebis could make out another scene, he could feel the presence of living men, fighting the undead monsters and what was more he felt the greater presence of Tyden’ light with them. There had two be two or three scores of them and they fought in an orderly line, letting the things come at them and taking them down in rows rather than charging in and allowing themselves to be overwhelmed. Soon enough the horde’s numbers began to dwindle and only a few looked up to see the lone man standing in the chapel’s doorway.

 With a raspy snarl they charged up at him. The paladin, his hope renew, faced them off with them and swiftly carved the first down with a single stroke of his blade. The second latched onto his arm, attempting to bite through the chain-mail. Cerebis took his sword in his other hand and thrusted it into the fiends eyes, cleanly putting it through then roughly ripping it out to slice off the top of another’s skull. Hearing the cheery shouts from Brinigan and hard thud of the hollow corpses Cerebis did not look back, assured that his ally had the situation well under control as the paladin moved in to join the new group. Hacking and carving his way through, will the boy ever learn?

 Quickly the paladin joined up with the ranks, and by that time they had already finished off the majority of the horde and with their aid were able to make it back and secure the chapel, healing the wounded soldiers and did the gruesome task of picking out their dead. Whatever evil had befallen the place was short lived as the sun broke through earlier that morning and the heavy veil that seemed to choke the land had vanished. Now begged the question of who or what caused such a thing and whether or not they had rid unknowingly rid themselves of it during the fight.