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horizon, a great, writhing, fear-some stain upon the land.
"Strengthen the gates!" he shouted down hoarsely.
Tarl was ready. "Tyr, grant us the power of your protec-tion!" the
white-haired cleric called out in a ringing voice.
A dozen clerics chanted fervent prayers. Suddenly, massive columns of jagged
stone began to push up out of the ground before the gates, growing like
gigantic trees. In moments, a dozen columns towered in front of the gates,
bolstering the portals. As the first zombies approached, spikes shot out of
the columns like huge, stony thorns, impaling the undead creatures. The
zom-bies writhed on the spikes, shredding their own rotting flesh with their
struggles. Blue lightning crackled around their bodies, burning them to
cinders.
More zombies lurched mindlessly toward the gates. They, too, were impaled by
the huge stone thorns and consumed by holy fire. Still more followed suit.
The clerics chanted on. As one tired, slumping to his knees, another stepped
forward to take his or her place. Through it all, Tarl's voice never faltered.
The zombies continued their mindless advance, letting out inhuman screams as
the spikes rent their undead flesh and lightning coursed through their bodies,
stream-ing out of their wounds and blankly staring eyes.
The clerics chanted on, their voices growing ragged.
Suddenly the mass of zombies parted before the gate. A huge fire giant strode
through their ranks. His undead body was whole, but instead of eyes, in each
socket was lodged the head of a dwarf. Screaming orders, the dual dwarf heads
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directed the lumbering body of the giant. The towering giant gripped two of
the columns in its enor-mous hands.
A dozen spikes shot out, piercing the giant's hands. Holy magic crackled along
the length of the monster's arms. Flesh sizzled and bubbled, filling the air
with its stench. But the magic was not enough. The giant's arms tensed. The
two columns shattered in a spray of stone, clearing a space before the gate.
The giant reached out, gripping the top of the iron portal.
Tarl, hearing the collapse, cried, "Louder, clerics of Tyr!" but this time
their chants were to no avail.
The fire giant grunted; the dual dwarf heads shrieked orders. The monster's
muscles bulged until they seemed ready to burst. Suddenly the sound of rending
metal shat-tered the air. Shards of iron flew in all directions. The gates
were sundered.
The clerics of Tyr stared in horror as the fire giant stepped through, the
dwarf heads in its eye sockets laugh-ing evilly.
Even then, Tarl Desanea stood strong.
He could see the magically animated zombie clearly. In one swift move, he
hurled his warhammer. It spun through the air and struck the giant directly
between its hideous dwarf-eyes. The fire giant's head exploded in a spray of
rotting meat. It tottered and fell backward, crushing dozens of zombies to
pulp beneath its bulk.
"Retreat to the temple!" Tarl shouted.
Hastily the clerics retreated, hauling Anton and the oth-ers who had collapsed
back with them.
"What of you, Brother Tarl?" Sister Sendara called out when it became clear
that Tarl did not intend to budge from the twisted wreckage of the gates.
"My place is here," the white-haired cleric said fiercely.
The old priestess only nodded, understanding in her dark eyes. She dashed into
the temple with the others.
"Hurry, Kern," Tarl whispered softly, hoping somehow, somewhere, his son could
hear him. "Wherever you are, you must hurry."
As the zombies rushed forward, jabbering with wicked glee, Tarl held up a
single hand.
"By Tyr, none shall pass!"
Suddenly a shining wall of transparent blue fire ap-peared, sealing the gaping
breach in the temple's wall.
The zombies recoiled from it. They could not pass through the holy light. Tarl
clenched his jaw, concentrating. Despite the cold, sweat beaded on his
furrowed brow, rolling in rivulets down his face. He could feel Tyr's strength
flowing through him like liquid fire. A strange elation began to fill him; a
fierce grin spread across his face. His days of self-pity and mourning were
gone. All that mattered was his belief in
Tyr and in justice.
By all the gods of light, Shal, Tarl shouted inwardly, I will not give up!
Somehow, I will hold on!
Zombies shrieked in rage as by the dozens they tried to pass through the gates
and perished. The magical barrier did not waver. Tarl's faith sustained him
against their onslaught But gradually, the fire in his blood burned hot-ter
and hotter.
Inside the temple's portico, Anton staggered weakly to his feet. He gazed
between the marble columns.
Awe filled him at what he saw.
"How long . .. how long do you think he can hold the wall?" he asked in hoarse
amazement.
"Until the magic consumes him," Sister Sendara answered sharply, "and he
dies."
* * * * *
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