The storehouse doors burst outward.
Teclos caught the first one with darkness before it reached the men behind him. The second spun across the courtyard and struck a wagon hard enough to split one of its wheels.
Black smoke poured through the opening.
Something large moved inside it.
"Shields up!" Dalen shouted.
Corren and Mikal stepped forward together. Their shields locked just as a dead soldier charged through the doorway.
It was taller than any of Maren's living guards, though the armour covering it belonged to another age. Rusted plates had been nailed directly into its flesh, and a two-handed axe hung from one blackened fist.
The corpse struck both shields.
Corren's boots slid across the stones. Mikal dropped to one knee, grunting beneath the weight.
Pell drove his spear into the corpse's neck.
The point went through, but the dead soldier continued pushing.
"It doesn't care!" Pell shouted.
"It's dead," Dalen replied. "Stop expecting it to."
