"Sir! The stairs!" shouted a guard. The armored men arrayed themselves in front of the entrance as war whoops and roars of triumph rose from the twisting steps.

　　"Move!" Jeremiah forced his way between the guards. He brought his will to bear and began bellowing out great breaths of poison gas down the stairway. He recast as fast as he could, his focus fraying rapidly. The victorious cries became coughs and strangled gasps of pain. The first of the attackers reached the door, his face pale, black veins standing out from his skin. Jeremiah was yanked back to safety as the guards struck down the attacker.

　　To me.

　　Jeremiah commanded several undead units from the walls, who until now had been standing idle as barbarians flew overhead. They broke rank, drawing fearful looks from the men positioned alongside them, and made their way to the tower.

　　"We need to get to safety," said Colonel Valen. "If they`re in the gatehouse, they`ll try to raise the portcullis. Soldiers, we`re taking the VIP to the fortress!" The soldiers` acknowledgement was drowned out by three clangs of a bell from the southern wall.

　　"No&no, no, no!" Colonel Valen ran to a spyglass pointing south. Jeremiah jumped to another and swiveled wildly, searching for the cause of distress. He found the two towers that mirrored their own. As he watched, long leather banners adorned with dozens of symbols unfurled from them. The portcullis of the southern gate lurched upward.

　　Attack!

　　Jeremiah commanded his undead on the southern wall to the gatehouse. But it wasn`t enough. The narrow confines within the gatehouse kept them from bringing their numbers to bear. The portcullis continued to rise. He ordered all undead to move toward the nearest gatehouse and protect it from the invaders.

　　Reinforce! Protect! Defend!

　　Jeremiah was yanked away from the spyglass. "C`mon lookey-loo, we`re getting out of here!" Bruno said. Jeremiah, Bruno and Colonel Valen hurried down the stairs, the guards bringing up the rear. They stepped over destroyed bodies and Jeremiah heard gasps from his comrades. Any corpses that had stayed dead were in no condition to raise.

　　The scene at ground level was utter chaos. Fires burned out of control, Nosirin soldiers clustered together, trying to engage small groups of enemies who simply scattered deeper into the city. One trio of barbarians taunted a loose phalanx of Dramir soldiers. The young soldiers charged, funneling toward their enemy like sand running down an hourglass. Out of formation, they were flanked by another group of enemies and routed.

　　Bruno yanked arrows from the quivers of fallen soldiers to feed his insatiable magic bow. His shots found their marks with relentless precision, damaging targets enough to overcome their already depleted healing stores. He shot continuously, but his shots merely picked individual insects out of the swarm of attackers descending upon the city.

　　"Brace!" screamed one of their guards. A group of barbarians charged into the guards` locked shields. Blades and maces rose and fell like windmill arms. One guard was yanked to the ground, his armor protecting him only momentarily before his head was yanked back and his throat split open. The remaining guards kept up their defense with confident, expert blows, delivering wounds that healed slower and slower, until they didn`t heal at all. Then Jeremiah`s undead arrived, crashing into the attackers` flank, spears driving deep. The barbarians broke and retreated toward the center of the city. Bruno claimed another two while their backs were turned.

　　"Move!" Colonel Vallen commanded, and the group broke into a run toward the fortress. Jeremiah marveled at how quickly the plan had fallen to pieces. Where were the ordered formations? This wasn`t a war, it was a drunken melee, no more disciplined than the White Light`s defense of the bandit camp. Only this time, it was Jeremiah`s side that was falling apart. Soldiers fled through the streets, their objective of hold the city` devolved to survive`.

　　Three panicked bell clangs from the west drew a litany of curses from Colonel Valen.

　　Bodies littered the streets. Cobblestones shone, slick with blood.

　　A small tight wedge of armored cavalry scattered a hoard of barbarians like pins.

　　A Nosirin soldier stripped off his uniform jacket, kicking open the door of a home. Jeremiah heard him shouting, "Melissa! Melissa, where are you?! We gotta go!"

　　A barbarian laughed maniacally as he pulled a longspear deeper into his guts, working his way closer to the Dramir soldier holding the other end, paralyzed with fear.

　　"Fall back to the fortress!" Colonel Valen shouted to any soldiers they saw. Jeremiah sensed his undead engaging the enemy in the gatehouses, a few bubbles popping as they were destroyed, but many were inert, simply waiting their turn to attack.

　　The enemy presence lessened as they neared the fortress, a core of safety with rapidly crumbling edges. The gates of the fortress wall were sealed now, the guardsmen opening them briefly for soldiers seeking refuge.

　　Jeremiah`s group dashed through the gate, all gasping for breath. The fortress courtyard harbored nearly as much chaos as the city streets, and its interior had become a hive of panic. Messengers dashed this way and that, delivering reports and arguing over updated orders. The wounded wandered in search of aid. Displaced soldiers either rushed to regroup or lurked in corners, trying to go unnoticed.

　　Colonel Valen led them upstairs to the war room, or rather the cyclone of pandemonium that it had become, whirling around King Growlack and his map. King Growlack`s keen eyes darted over the model, his hands snapping out like vipers to pluck pieces off and redistribute them as he took in the frantically shouted updates. Jeremiah could see the skeleton figurines clustered around gatehouses, a growing pile of enemies in the southern thoroughfare, and five giants heaped off to the side.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

　　"Your Majesty!" shouted Colonel Valen over the din. "I`ve brought the necromancer. The northern tower and gate were under heavy attack, and we couldn`t risk losing him." The king didn`t reply, but snapped up a black hooded figurine at the north observation tower and deposited it in the center of the map.

　　"Colonel, what do you want me to do?" asked Jeremiah. "The undead aren`t very effective right now, at least at the breached gate." For all his supposed power, he felt helpless to affect the situation.

　　Colonel Valen motioned for him to wait as he watched the king`s hands move. Enemy figures all over the map coalesced into larger and larger groups. One group inside the southern gate began shifting, piece by piece, toward the medical station Delilah had joined. Bruno casually reached across the table and moved Delilah`s figure to the fortress. King Growlack replaced her amongst the medics without looking up. Bruno held up his hands. "Just a suggestion."

　　More messengers poured in, shouting updates, contradicting each other, struggling to convey the tactical information of so many groups in motion. The king`s hands began to falter as he updated the board. Pieces were dropped and needed to be retrieved. Those mistakes created a backlog. Messengers had to repeat themselves as more bodies and noise built up in the room. The temperature climbed. Sweat poured down King Growlack`s face. He wiped his forehead on his sleeve and a single soldier slipped from his fingers, bouncing off the table with light wooden plinks and disappearing under the feet of the surrounding crowd. The nearest messengers dropped immediately to look for it. The king held one hand out, waiting, while the other tried to maintain the pace. The figurine remained elusive. King Growlack`s empty hand curled into a fist and then slammed into the table, an earthquake that toppled hundreds of tiny men. The room went silent.

　　Nobody spoke. The messengers remained quiet. The only sound was the labored panting of the king.

　　"M-my lord?" said a uniformed man by King Growlack`s side.

　　The king answered in a stilted, rasping voice. "Retreat to the fortress. We concentrate our forces here and counterattack. Necromancer?" He searched for Jeremiah in the crowd.

　　"Huh?" Jeremiah had been nearly hypnotized by the movements on the board, the fog of his mind leaving him susceptible to distraction.

　　"Cover the retreat. Hit them from behind if they try to pursue."

　　"Yes sir."

　　Come to me. Kill them all.

　　Jeremiah felt the undead already obeying his command, abandoning their fruitless positions.

　　The king`s hands sprang back to life, pulling allied pieces to the center of the map. "Move." He spoke, and there was a gust of wind as dozens of messengers ran out the door. Colonel Valen pulled Jeremiah to the side while Bruno hovered near the table, his eyes never leaving Delilah`s figure.

　　"Will you need more undead for the counterattack?" asked Valen.

　　Jeremiah shook his head. "I`ll be a zombie myself if I try to raise any more." His undead encountered enemies at every turn. They fought continuously even as they made their way inward. Jeremiah sorted through the avalanche of sensory inputs.

　　Violence. Attack. Screams. A voice.

　　A voice? He`d never sensed that before, a singular voice cutting through the onslaught of information.

　　Bubbles popped as undead were struck down. The cyclone of messengers had resumed, but the king moved carefully now, making only macro adjustments to the board.

　　Jeremiah`s hands went to his ears as a tremendous clang shook the room. It felt like his eyes were going to rattle out of his head. He saw Bruno jump, and a few people cover their ears, but no one else seemed surprised.

　　"What the hell was that?" Jeremiah shouted over the ringing in his head.

　　"The Great Bell of King Montgustus," said Colonel Valen, looking toward the vaulted ceiling. "It`s signaling the retreat for the entire city. They may have tricked us with their wall gambit, but once we`ve regrouped we`ll march out and crush them against those very walls."

　　A voice.

　　"Shit!" Bruno shouted. The enemy line had overtaken Delilah`s position. The king picked up the entire assembly of medics and removed them from the board. Bruno made for the door, his face livid. "Stay here!" he ordered Jeremiah, then he was gone.

　　Jeremiah was suddenly alone. Alone with the king who used people as pieces and a colonel who treated him like a weapon.

　　A voice!

　　Louder this time. How was one voice cutting through all that noise? Jeremiah thought. He focused, searching for it.

　　"Stop!" He heard the voice speak a single word. It was faint but somehow familiar. He hadn`t known any details could be gleaned from the dull shared senses of the undead. He concentrated, trying to separate the voice from the countless other sensations.

　　"JAY, STO! YOU-! FRIENDLIES!"

　　It was Allison. She was screaming for all she was worth in the face of a particularly damaged zombie. The others in its unit were currently engaged very close by.

　　"That means&" Jeremiah whispered out loud, piecing the situation together like a nightmarish puzzle.

　　The bell meant retreat. I told them to attack&I told them to attack before the bell! The soldiers hadn`t begun their retreat!

　　With dawning horror at his mistake, Jeremiah severed every single undead under his control. The dreadful clarity of his actions filled the void in his mind. Every moment that had passed since his last order, his undead had been attacking indiscriminately, barbarians and unsuspecting allies alike. Jeremiah ran to the map and swept the skeletons off, sending them onto the floor as if it would undo what he had just done. The king paid no mind.

　　Jeremiah stumbled backwards, hands gripping around his skull as nightmarish images flooded his mind. The man in the closet wore the faces of his friends and the soldiers he had traveled with. His heart pounded in his chest. His throat began to close, and his body felt cold as ice. Colonel Valen grabbed him and spun him around.

　　"What did you just do? What just happened?"

　　"I made a mistake&" Jeremiah sputtered as he tried to explain.

　　Valen slapped him, numbing his jaw. "Tell me! What did you do?"

　　Jeremiah haltingly explained. Colonel Valen`s shoulders sagged in relief when he explained he had attacked their own people, but the tension returned when he said he had destroyed the undead.

　　"Mistakes happen, Mr. Thorn. It`s war. We all make them, and the mistakes of powerful men are all the greater." Jeremiah got the sense the mistake` in question was wiping out the undead, according to Colonel Valen. "But I need you to focus. Your mistakes will be even greater if you submit to battleshock."

　　Jeremiah had never heard the word battleshock, but it made sense. He didn`t know for certain he had killed his allies, so he would allow himself to assume the best for now, if only to offer him a brief respite from knowledge he was sure would break him.

　　He felt numb as he watched the figurines clatter. The messengers were coming slower now, there was less to report as groups entered the relative safety of the fortress grounds. The news that was worth bringing was only dire.

　　"The west and north gates have fallen."

　　"The giants are approaching the gates."

　　"The field hospital has been taken."

　　Every eye in the room was fixed upon the map. Enemy figurines amassed outside the fortress wall. A figurine of a giant appeared at the fortress gate. A tremor rolled through the stone under Jeremiah`s feet. The giant was moved inside the fortress wall. The figures on the map rattled. Across the courtyard. Flecks of stone and mortar rained down from the ceiling. As King Growlack placed the giant beside the fortress itself, the window darkened. The king let out a growl like rocks rolling down a hill.

　　King Growlack stomped to the large window. He grabbed the ringed handles and threw them open. The glow of the setting sun was blocked by a hulking figure. Jeremiah`s attention, however, was commanded instead by Vivica, standing upon a massive, outstretched hand. The city smoldered behind her.

　　"Good evening, King Growlack. I`m here for your surrender."