16

The doors didn't hold long, cracking and splintering, despite their enormous size and heft, before bursting into blood red flames that made Olaf's skin crawl.

As they turned to ash and glowing chunks, a Blood Bone surged through, followed by a horde of Risen Dead. The Blood Bone's eyes glowed with the same red fire that had destroyed the door, and it cast out more of the eerie flames as it prowled down the main aisle clearly bent on dealing with Korbinian.

Senta and Bianka went up either side to flank the Risen Dead. No sign of the other two vanguard yet, but that wasn't surprising.

Olaf poured everything he had into his playing, shifting into the different pieces as necessary, first at Korbinian's silent commands, and then simply on instinct. Slowing them. Infuriating them. Overwhelming them. Whatever worked in the moment to give the other three the slightest edge.

Holy magic flared in brilliant white and gold light, contrasting sharply with Korbinian's apple green. As Senta and Bianka focused on the other Risen Dead, drawing their attention as much as they possibly could, Korbinian fought with the vanguard.

This one seemed a more difficult opponent than the other two—and they'd hardly been easy. Clearly, though, this one had come better prepared. Despite the fact it was only bone, it moved like a soldier, hissed and growled and clattered. Rather than ordinary finger bones, the tips were long, curved, and sharply pointed, like claws, or maybe talons. Sparks flew whenever the bone claws struck Korbinian's swords.

The Blood Bone shrieked so loudly, so abruptly, that Olaf flinched back, the pipes lowering. Senta and Bianka screamed and reared back as the sound came a second time.

Korbinian surged in with a shout of his own, the bloodstone on the back of his hand shining, apple green light spilling over his hand and out to the Blood Bone. It shrieked a third time and launched itself at Korbinian, the two of them crashing to the floor in a mix of rage and blinding light, red against green, and still that debilitating shriek.

Abandoning his pipes, Olaf drew his rowan sword and cut across the temple to help Bianka, who seemed to be struggling more between the two. He cut off the heads of Rattle Bones before turning his full attention to the Ravenous that came next.

Familiar. Only vaguely, but the faces were familiar all the same. At least one of the boats definitely had not made it. Damn it. Olaf screamed and beheaded another one, kicking the flailing body into two more, giving him enough space to haul Bianka to her feet and shove her back. "Help Senta! I've got this side."

Bianka snarled, likely frustrated with herself, but took off without comment, racing across the temple to hack away at the Ravenous who had Senta pinned.

Fighting with just one arm was exhausting and more than a little tricky, but Olaf barreled onward, hacking, slashing, kicking, and shoving, sweat stinging his eyes, substances he preferred not to dwell on smeared across his armor and matting his hair.

There was another unholy shriek, and Olaf looked toward Korbinian just in time to shield his eye as the Blood Bone exploded in a burst of red and green light.

"What in the fuck was that?" Olaf asked.

"Questions later!" Korbinian replied.

Olaf grunted in reply and went back to work, though the flood of Risen Dead had slowed. If only that was reassuring. "Surely it's a good thing that's three of the vanguard dead now, right?"

"It was sacrificed to lead the first wave."

That was what Olaf had been afraid of.

Before he could say anything else, the second wave appeared, and there was much worse than Ravenous and Rattle Bones. Olaf didn't even know what some of them were. Whisper Bones, those he recognized. Ghosts and wraiths like they'd faced before on the road. Something that looked like a walking shadow.

"Wights," Korbinian said grimly. "Don't let them touch you. They will freeze you to the bone."

"Charming," Olaf muttered. "Always something new and delightful with you."

That got him the briefest, barest grin before the new assault began.

If the Lich King's plan was to wear them down, it was an effective one. Four people, only one of them a necromancer, could not hold out forever against tens and tens of Risen Dead, especially when each wave was clearly going to be worse than the one before.

The Lich King didn't have an unlimited supply, but he had supply enough.

Olaf jumped back as one of the wights took a swing at him, hissing as its blow struck a column and, as promised, froze the spot as mercilessly as a winter frost. With a cry, Olaf removed its head, barely rearing back in time to avoid a combined attack from another Wight and two Whisper Bones. He struck at the Wight, but one of the Whisper Bones grabbed his sword, while something else jumped on him from behind.

Screaming, Olaf drove back until he slammed into the wall, which loosened the grip around his throat. Slamming it against the wall a second time, he whipped around as it let him go and slid away, drew his bone sword, and hacked away at it. A Ravenous, but stronger. He was too fucking terrified to remember what it was called.

"Olaf!"

He turned, caught his sword as Korbinian tossed it, and went back to work.

But he was tiring, especially since he couldn't ease the weight of his sword by using two hands. Across the temple, Senta and Bianka were faring better, but not by much.

"Fall back!" Korbinian bellowed.

"I'm not leaving you out here in the middle of the temple alone!" Olaf snarled.

"He's coming, you have to get back!" Korbinian said.

"Damn you!" Olaf withdrew, standing together with Senta and Bianka at the base of the steps, hacking away at a last few Risen along the way.

Korbinian drew back slightly, though still several paces in front of them. Sheathing his bone sword, he drew the rowan, and yanked the reliquaries off his neck, holding them tightly in the hand with the bloodstone on it.

Olaf had the sinking feeling that Korbinian was about to do something monumentally stupid.

Looking over his shoulder, Korbinian gave him a fleeting smile. Turning back to face the door, he held the reliquaries tightly and all around him a soft, green light began to shine.

Through the broken doorway came the remaining vanguard, reliquaries glowing brightly where they dangled against their ribcages. Their eyes glowed red, the same eerie flames from before, but unlike the previous Blood Bones, these two had… crowns or something on their head. Small, one tall point in the middle flanked by smaller points, looking like thorny branches woven into crowns more than anything. They were also draped in tattered cloth, like some sad attempt at noble raiment.

The pair marched straight for Korbinian, surrounded by still more Risen Dead that they sent out to surround all four of them.

"Cover him," Olaf said, ignoring it when Korbinian ordered them to stay back out of the way.

Surging in, the three of them formed a loose circle with Korbinian, a last stand to make certain Korbinian was able to carry out whatever crazy plan he'd formulated.

One of the Blood Bones opened its mouth and made a deep, vibrating sound like a dying bellows. Black mist poured from it like a waterfall, spilling down and swiftly spreading throughout the room.

"Fuck," Olaf said.

"I told you to stay back!" Korbinian snarled, and as the vanguard approached, lifted the reliquaries in the air—and cried out in pain as he was tackled from above, sending him crashing to the floor, vanishing into the spreading black mist, the reliquaries flying in different directions.

Olaf screamed, "No!" and went after him, diving into the black mist, hacking and slashing at the monster that had dropped on him, even as more of them came crashing through the skylights. Damn it, they'd been worried about those, and it seemed they'd had good reason.

He saw Bianka in the corner of his eyes, and felt more than saw Senta going to work on the opposite side, even as he finished slaying the creature in front of him and shoved the corpse out of the way.

Fumbling in the mist that was now up to his waist, he finally hauled Korbinian to his feet. "Are you all right?"

"Been better, been worse," Korbinian said, covered in cuts and bruises and blood. "Find the reliquaries, now!"

"Impossible in this mist," Bianka said as it overtook them once and for all, lunging in the direction one of the remaining vanguard went.

"I can banish it," Senta called out, "but that will put me out of the fight."

"Do it," Korbinian said. "I'm sorry."

Senta said something Olaf couldn't hear, then more loudly called out, "Brace yourselves!"

Olaf pressed up against Korbinian, standing back-to-back, sword ready for whatever came at them in the overwhelming dark. He could hear the clattering, the slithering, the sibilant whispers and scrape against stone.

Then there was a hush, a stillness like the moment before a storm. His breath caught in his chest, and he could feel as Korbinian's did the same.

Then there was light. Pure, blinding silvery white light like sunlight reflecting off metal. The temple filled with shrieks of pain and anger.

"Go to my left!" Korbinian bellowed as the light began to fade, even as he surged forward, sword swinging, something falling beneath it.

Olaf didn't linger to see what, simply went left as told, blinking and shaking his head as he ran, jumping over bodies, cutting others down—

There.

He sheathed his sword and bent as he ran, scooping up a shining reliquary where it had landed in the slashed open chest cavity of a Ravenous. Jumping out of the way of it's still-fumbling arms, or what remained of them, he kept moving.

Senta lay on the floor, slumped between the remains of various Rattle Bones, chest moving but only barely. Olaf shoved the reliquary into his shirt, threw her over his left shoulder, and headed for the altar.

The others met him there, and Olaf fumbled out the retrieved reliquary, shoving it at Korbinian before carrying Senta through the door to the hallway and laying her out there, where she'd be as safe as he could make her until this was over.

Returning to the fray, door firmly closed behind him, he drew his sword and rushed to fight back the vanguards and other creatures, giving Korbinian a chance to do what he'd tried before.

Olaf struck down two Rattle Bones—and gasped as he was grabbed from behind and thrown like a sack of feathers, sending him crashing into a group of undead. He scrambled to his feet, sword lost in the landing, and fought to get out of the mess before he was bitten in a place that couldn't be chopped off.

At the altar, Korbinian once more raised the reliquaries, and this time, as the two remaining vanguards lunged to stop him, managed to slam them down, causing them to shattering across the floor, sending out beams of apple green light that cut through the whole of the sanctuary and reduced every Risen Dead to shrieks of pain before they turned into dust.

Even the vanguards didn't escape the onslaught, though they didn't turn into dust either. Korbinian finished them off with his rowan sword, removing their heads and then scattering the bones even further, pausing only to take their reliquaries.

As Olaf rejoined him and Bianka, he saw that the bloodstone was gone, only the setting that had held it remaining. "What did you do?"

"Used everything I had," Korbinian said. "Like burning down a barn to get rid of rats, but we didn't have much choice. How is Senta?"

"Safe. Don't think she'll be waking up anytime soon, but she was breathing steady when I left her. What do we do…"

Overwhelming terror raced down Olaf's spine, and he turned around, lifting his sword—and froze. "Fuck."

"Agreed," Bianka said shakily.

Korbinian said nothing, only stared grimly. "Get behind me."

In the doorway of the temple, the remains of his army blowing in his face from the wind slipping through the shattered skylights, was the source of every terrible thing that had happened.

The Lich King himself. He was some strange mix of Ravenous and Rattle Bone. The bones were the color of lurid bruises, purple and blue and black, and overlaying them in tattered patches was flesh that looked like it had been rotting in the sun for at least a day. A smell wafted off him like nothing Olaf had ever experienced, and it took everything he had not to throw up.

On the Lich King's head was a crown. Not the small, unassuming ones of his vanguard, but an actual crown. Made from lead, maybe, though Olaf really had no idea. It was set with a bloodstone, though instead of red, it was purple, and purple light filled its eye sockets. There were lead rings on its bony fingers, and it chattered and whispered as it slowly made its way toward them. In one hand, it clutched a heavy sword that seemed to match the crown. Where had it gotten them? Neither would have fit in the box.

"What do we do?" Bianka whispered.

"You run," Korbinian said. In his left hand, the reliquaries he'd taken from the remaining vanguards flickered red, green, red, green, as though Korbinian was struggling to overtake them. Which, given the power he'd already expended, he probably was.

Olaf looked to Bianka as Korbinian surged into action. "Take Senta. Go to the others."

"You can't—"

"We don't have a choice," Olaf said. "Only Korbinian can do this, and only I can give him more power. You have to go."

"Fuck you both," Bianka replied shakily, and kissed his cheek before sheathing her sword and running.

Olaf pulled out his pipes and moved to stand against the far wall. "Körbl, take whatever you need. Don't argue with me."

Korbinian didn't reply, locked in a brutal fight with the Lich King, but Olaf felt the acknowledgement through the bond. Closing his eyes, he focused on that. Feeling Korbinian. Every emotion. Every kiss they'd shared. Every kiss he hoped they could have in the future.

Putting the pipes to his lips, he poured everything he felt into them, trusting to the instinct that had guided him thus far, playing with all of him, even as he felt Korbinian begin to drain him.

He played even when he grew dizzy and weak. When he could no longer stand. When every breath he drew to keep playing burned like fire in his lungs. When the world tilted beneath his feet.

As the battle raged, Korbinian's bellows and cries of pain clashing with those of the Lich King.

He played until the pipes grew too heavy and the world went black.

Olaf woke screaming—and stopped as he registered a heavy hand on his chest, eyes flying up to meet a familiar pair of mismatched ones. "Are you all right?"

Korbinian huffed a laugh through his nose. "You're ridiculous. This is the second time you've collapsed because I drain you like a drunk empties a pitcher of beer and all you do is ask about me."

Olaf drew a breath and let it out slowly as he covered Korbinian's hand with his own, squeezing it firmly before letting go. "Help me up."

"You really shouldn't stand yet," Korbinian said, even as he moved to obey.

On his feet, Olaf looked around. The temple. They were still in the sanctuary of the temple. "What happened? Is the bastard dead?"

"As dead as a Lich gets," Korbinian said. "I'll need help from other necromancers to seal him properly, but he's back in his box and not going anywhere for the moment. All thanks to you—the way you let me take and take, and that beautiful song you played. It seemed to help somehow, bolster me. Us."

"I just played what the bond told me," Olaf replied, and leaned heavily into him as Korbinian looped an arm across his shoulders. "Is it really over?"

"Yes," Korbinian said softly. "I don't know how, because one necromancer with failing strength should not be able to defeat a Lich King… But he wasn't at full strength, and I'd destroyed his Vanguard, and I had you and the others. Especially you. Without you, ropemaker, none of us would be here, that is for certain."

Olaf just rested his head against Korbinian's chest, completely uncaring for the suspicious substances he was probably getting all over his face. "What was with the crown and sword?"

Korbinian laughed. "Leave it to you to want to ask questions instead of just getting out of here."

"Not sure I can move yet," Olaf mumbled.

"Lead is favored by the Risen Dead as a conduit for power. Jewel to lead to bone. Whereas I rely on things like rowan and silver. He probably had Ravenous or something dig it up and forge them for him. Lich Kings were power hungry egomaniacs in life, and that hardly changes in death." He grimaced. "He destroyed both of my swords, though, so it's a good thing you have my backups until I make new ones."

Before Olaf could reply, the door behind them opened, and everyone came rushing out—including the boys, who burst into tears as they saw them and rushed to hug them. "You're alive! You're alive! Daddy, Daddy!"

"Shh, shh, everything will be all right now," Olaf said, giving up and sitting back down.

Greta, true to form, set to work building a fire and getting food cooking, Senta helping her haul their supplies back into place.

Olaf sat with the boys pressed against his sides, answering questions as best he could, yawning between every other word, smiling in gratitude when Korbinian took over, giving him a chance to rest.

He must have dozed off, because the next thing he remembered was Greta shaking him awake before pressing a bowl of porridge piled with smoked sausages and stewed vegetables into his hand. Nearby, Korbinian was out cold, his head resting on his cloak, which was folded in half and draped over a familiar box.

Shuddering, Olaf looked away and focused on his food, eating while he idly watched the boys explore the sanctuary. Nothing remained but dust and some bits of bone. Olaf wanted to call them back, but if Korbinian had let them wander around, it must be safe to do so, and Five knew they'd been forced to hide away for hours already. Stretching their legs and exploring where the danger was now long past probably gave them some measure of control back.

"Hard to believe it's over," Bianka said. She had a black eye, a nasty scratch on the other cheek, and bandages aplenty over her bare arms and one bare leg, but she smiled as she sat beside him and worked on her own porridge.

Olaf grunted. "Not sure I'll believe it any time soon. Not until we're far away from here."

"Are you—" Bianka stopped at the sound of voices. Many voices, demanding to know if anyone was there.

Korbinian sat up, then stood, hand going for the swords he no longer had. The boys ran back to them, hiding with Greta, who knelt to wrap her arms around them.

Olaf stood, pulling out his pipes, as Senta and Bianka drew their swords and Bianka tossed one to Korbinian.

Surging forward, protective as always, Korbinian waited—and then relaxed, lowering his sword.

Olaf had to stare a moment before he registered what he was looking. Necromancers. Six of them. Each one with the mismatched eyes, the same swords, similar armor, the excess of jewelry. Right behind them came Quirin, because of course that stupid bastard was happy to show up the moment the danger was past, and a handful of other townspeople armed for war.

One of the necromancers stepped forward, her hand falling from the hilt of her sheathed sword. "Korbinian? What are you doing here?"

"Killing a Lich King all by myself, while you lot show up too late like usual," Korbinian retorted.

Another necromancer, a large, broad man who dwarfed everyone around him, scoffed. "Lich King? Oh, please. If you're going to brag, make it believable."

"It was a Lich King!" Olaf snarled, storming up to stand next to Korbinian, abandoning his sword to take Korbinian's hand. "It had a lead crown and sword, and a Vanguard of five Blood Bones, each wearing a reliquary, and if not for Korbinian, he'd still be here, and a whole lot more people would be dead! Who the Five are you to be so rude and dismissive?"

The woman waved the big man to stay silent. "Who's your guard dog, Korbinian? Why are you illegally bound to him?"

"It's a long story," Korbinian replied curtly. "How about you do us a favor first and sweep the town and forest for stragglers? I was only able to wipe out what attacked us here in the temple. I haven't recovered sufficient strength for anything else."

"Of course," the woman replied, and started handing out orders.

In short order, only she, Quirin, and two of the townspeople who'd come along remained, sitting around the fire where Greta was already hard at work making more food. She set the townspeople to work, and though they clearly weren't thrilled about it, they had sense enough not to argue with her.

"I'm sorry we got here so late, Korbinian," the woman said. "The moment we heard, we came as quickly as we could. There were three of us initially, but more joined as we went along. Should have known you wouldn't need us. You always were the best of us."

Korbinian only grunted and drank his tea before saying, "Olaf, this is Brunhilde, one of the necromancers of the royal capital. Brunhilde, this is Olaf, ropemaker of Rochdale, my lover, bonded, and the father of my apprentice."

"I want to hear this tale in full more than ever," Brunhilde said with a smile. "Herr Olaf, the circumstances are lacking, but it's an honor to make your acquaintance."

"Necromancer," Olaf replied with a smile and bow of his head.

As Greta handed out a fresh round of tea, he and Korbinian took it in turns to tell the story of the Lich King. By the time they'd finished, a few of the others had returned to hear the tale from various points.

Olaf yawned and handed off his mug and empty plate to Greta. "Thank you as always for keeping us fed, Greta. We would never have come this far without you."

"It takes a village," Greta said with a smile. "Go get some sleep. We'll work out what we do next tomorrow."

"Thank you."

He stood with Korbinian's help, and together they went further into the temple to sleep on beds that had been made up for them at some point. He checked briefly in the room across the hall, where Luk and Ulli were fast asleep, curled together like they were each other's driftwood in a swift-moving river. Which, by this point, they probably were.

Olaf groaned as the door closed on their room, stripping off his clothes and making quick work of the bathing water waiting for them, completely uncaring it was only barely warm. Dressed in clean, warm clothes, he collapsed on the bed in the corner, barely keeping his eyes open as he waited for Korbinian to join him.

"Are you certain you're well?" he asked when Korbinian finally slid beneath the blankets, kissing him softly.

"I'm fine. You're the one who—"

"Enough, enough. Let's agree everything has been terrible for both of us," Olaf said with a laugh. "You think all those others can handle things for the night?"

Korbinian huffed as he got comfortable, pulling Olaf to rest against his side, head on his chest. "If they manage to muck everything in one night, I'm dumping every last one of them in the river. Now go to sleep. We're safe, finally, so we can sleep as long as we want."

"That will be nice," Olaf replied, and happily obeyed.