"Move it!"

He laid down what he hoped was a suppressing fire, joined by the reliable Sergeant, urging the small party down to the hard-packed road; surely nobody could be buried there. At last, they reached the parched thoroughfare, and Quelgrum breathed a sigh of relief; both Shakkar and Tordun had scarlet gashes on their bodies, but their wounds did not appear serious. At least the zombies moved slowly, and the road was well-lit by the bright, full moon.

"Let's hope the wagon keeps them occupied for a while,” Quelgrum said. “Necromancer Numal; is there anything you can do?"

"I'll try to take control of some of the undead creatures, General. Maybe I can persuade them to attack each other."

"Better make it fast, Lord Mage,” Erik advised. “They're still moving."

A large group of zombies now made its way through the undergrowth. They were still distant and their pace appeared leisurely, but Quelgrum saw more of the creatures emerging from the other side of the road.

"They're trying to outflank us!” the General said. “Let's pull back!"

"Look, General,” Shakkar rumbled. “Look!"

Quelgrum's eyes followed the direction of the pointing, taloned finger; shambling streams of the undead monsters had begun to stumble onto the road behind them. They were still at some distance, but the closing ring of zombies precluded any simple escape except towards the Priory.

Numal shook his head and his forehead crinkled. “Somebody has to be controlling them,” he said. “The Undead have no volition or desires."

"Well, find them!” Quelgrum commanded. “Sergeant, how many grenades do you have left?"

"A couple, Sir."

"See if you can take out the group behind us, so we can retreat back down the road. At least we could put some distance between us and them while we decide what to do next."