A large procession of undead ogres was currently pulling a very large platform through the open Tomb Gate, atop of which was what appeared to be an enormous glowing blue crystal sarcophagus limned with mithral runes. The sarcophagus was nearly thirty-five feet wide, twenty feet in height and well over one hundred feet long.
“Do you have any idea of what’s in this thing?” Ramses asked.
“No,” Exador replied, shaking his head, “but it appears to be very large, and based on the inscribed wards, very dangerous.” He frowned, nodding to the group of thirteen liches on the front of the platform, who were huddled in discussions. “And apparently rather complex to command and control.”
“Thirteen necromancers for one creature?” Ramses grinned. “I do not envy the Citadel, or Orcus.”
“Something that needs that much control?” Exador replied grimly. “I am not sure I envy us.”
Vicar General Grob Darkness Slayer and Diocate Aeris had come up to the roof of the central tower that housed the command center to meet with Tom, Targh, Darg-Krallnom and the prophets of the Five Siblings. Tamarin had naturally accompanied them since it was her job to relay communications to them from Tom.
“Dawn approaches,” Grob said, looking to Ashena. “Melona Tramen had planned to open the storm clouds to allow atunlight in before the interdiction. Will you be able to keep the skies clear?”
Ashena nodded. “I can open them, and should be able keep them clear. The Death Cheaters”—she pointed to the other tower where the D’Orc shamans were—“are coordinating with me. They are in contact with local Katsina. It should be a very interesting and powerful combination. However, due to the amount of concentration required, I will not be available for battle.”
Grob nodded. “That’s fine. Full-on atunlight is critical at this point.”
Aeris nodded in agreement.
Grob changed the topic. “What have we learned about the interdiction?”
“Our best clue comes from the sea,” Eileen Sealegs, Prophetess of Namora, said, speaking up.
“Indeed?” Aeris asked.
“There is an arc of ships holding steady at sea that is directly in line with where the surrounding road we found yesterday terminates,” Eileen reported. “Ashena’s people are reporting that there are beacons, small obelisks about ten feet tall, at the edge of the shore, in line with the ships.”
Ashena nodded. “While swatting meteors, I received the report on the beacons and was able to spot additional beacons on the circular road. I believe it is a very unusual warding that is using the beacons instead of a more traditional pentacle.”
Grob nodded. “That would be it. I think we need to break it.”
“We are working on that,” Eileen said. “We believe the simplest mechanism is to break the warding at sea, pull the beacons on ships out of alignment.”
Darg-Krallnom nodded. “Air and sea attacks, then?”
Eileen nodded. “Exactly.”
“That will be—” Fassbindr started to say, but was interrupted by Garion Hearthhand.
“Friends!” Garion exclaimed. “I think you need to see this.” The hearthean was staring to the south.
“What?” Grob asked, turning to stare.
“How far away is that?” Fassbindr asked, sounding rather awed.
“About a third of a league,” Ashena said in a hushed voice, staring at what everyone was looking at.
“Those guys must be very tall,” Aeris said in awe.
Tom shook his head as he stared at the three beings, whose appearance was causing his stomach to twist in both unknown familiarity and revulsion. Three giants. They could only be giants; three one-hundred-foot tall, undead giants.
“I have never seen a giant that tall,” Grob said in awe.
“Those aren’t giants; they are true jötnar, risar,” Darg-Krallnom said grimly.
“The one with the red cheeks and flames for hair is an eldþursi, often mistakenly called a fire giant. The bluish one with the icy hair is an hrímthursi, commonly called a rime giant or frost giant. The third is a vindthursi, mistakenly called a wind giant,” Targh told them.
“I thought all the true jötnar were locked out of Midgard after Ragnarök?” Tom asked, puzzled.
“They were, but these are some sort of abomination,” Targh said. “These, and others like them, were used to smash the cities of the Isle of Doom.”
Darg-Krallnom shook his head almost angrily. “Jötnar are immortals. You cannot reanimate something that cannot die!” Darg-Krallnom looked to Tom, his face ashen with horror. “This should not be possible!”
Targh nodded. “I agree, but impossible or not, they are extremely difficult to defeat.”
“How did you defeat them?” Darg-Krallnom asked.
“We did not. We wore them down over a century of war. Or more precisely, we allowed them to wear us down.” Targh gave a sarcastic laugh. “They would come in and attack cities; we’d repulse them as best we could, albeit after the city was destroyed and thousands had died.” He shook his head. “They require far more work, far more mana to animate, or whatever it is the Storm Lords are doing, than normal undead. Typically, they could only be deployed for a few days at a time before the Storm Lords would retreat with them.”
“You say you let them wear you down?” Darg-Krallnom asked, puzzled.
“We ensured it was not worth the effort to use them. You may have noticed that we did not rebuild the cities and have instead spread ourselves out over a large number of smaller villages?” Targh asked.
“If there is no target large enough to justify the expenditure required to use them, then there is no point in using them!” Tamarin exclaimed enthusiastically.
“Exactly,” Targh agreed.
“So there are three here. Is this typical of what they would use to destroy a city?” Grob asked.
Targh shook his head ruefully. “No. No, they never deployed more than one per city. If they were using multiple risar, they were at different cities.”
“And they are sending three against us?” Aeris asked, looking pale.
“It would seem so,” Targh said.
Talarius and Stainsberry both stared south towards the risar. They had rotated in with the coming dawn so that they and their steeds could get some rest. At the Citadel, all soldiers were on rotation schedules, even without a siege. Grob and the other leaders were very careful about keeping soldiers rested. Talarius and Stainsberry had actually been out longer than most, but even they and their steeds had limits.
Talarius shook his head. “Why do they simply stand there?”
“Risar are not supposed to be reanimatable,” Stainsberry replied. “They are immortals, like avatars or deities. Beings of pure animus and mana. If killed permanently, there should be nothing left. There would be no flesh to reanimate.”
“Perhaps, but from what I remember from school, and the discussions of Reggie and the other demons, non-material beings can come to the material world either as physical manifestations created ad hoc by mana, or as true incarnated beings. In the second case, if the animus leaves the body, you would still have a corpse. Correct?” Talarius asked.
Stainsberry nodded, frowning. “Very good point indeed; I had not considered that option. My understanding is that full incarnation is not done that commonly; and fully incarnating the body of a risi would require a lot of mana. Maintaining the body would also require immense amounts of mana.”
“On the other hand,” Talarius replied, “the most effective reanimated undead have the souls of the original owner. That’s the key difference between a simple zombie and, say, a jiangshi or lich. It would seem that if you were going to all the trouble of reanimating something so huge, you would want a higher level of undead, something truly Unlife.”