The sea of bones pounded the gate below. Jonah looked through his helm at the mass of skeletons – all the world’s dead, rallied against the kingdom – and fought the urge to piss his pants.
“We are so screwed,” he muttered, fingers tightening around his swordhilt.
His shieldmate Boyd shrugged and took another drink from his flask.
“I told ya to f’in drink first.” Boyd wobbled a little in bravado or drunkeness, Jonah couldn’t tell. “Just gotta get in there and start swingin’.”
Jonah shook his head. “How long ’till you become one of them like that?”
“Only about three seconds before you, my friend!” Boyd’s smile faltered. “Only three seconds, mate.”