So why, Cera asked, did you help the durthans recruit werewolves to their cause?
The giantess snorted. The curs are nothing, she said. Just a convenience we in this stronghold created to keep true humans off my land.
So by parting with something of little value, said Aoth, you satisfied the durthans and bought yourself time to decide whether you really want to throw in with them again or not.
Yes.
Who s bringing the durthans back?
Other undead, supposedly from somewhere far away. I don t know where, exactly. I ve only met with the durthans, not with the ones who called them from their graves.
If they re from so far away, Vandar asked, shivering and ashenlipped now that his rage had passed, what do they care about Rashemen?
I can t tell you why they chose to come to this land in particular, Grontaix said. But I do know their intent is to establish some sort of hegemony of the dead. The durthans will rule here as they desire, but their dominion will be part of something greater.
Like the tharchs that make up Thay, said Aoth.
I suppose, replied the formorian.
And that explains why these invaders are so concerned about Szass Tam and his lieutenants finding out about them. Thay s already an empire of the undead and necromancy. I doubt it wants a rival, and it may well have the power to destroy this one before it really gets going.
That would be my guess.
And when the undead rule Rashemen, what do your people get out of it?
The fomorian sneered. Those who came to visit me gave essentially the same pledges as before, she said. The undead will rule in the mortal world, and my folk will rule in the spirit realms.
How do the durthans and the other undead travel around Rashemen without the hathrans watchers spotting them?
I can t say, but it s a useful trick.
What else do they have in their quivers? What s their grand strategy for winning a new war?
I don t know that, either.
You must at least have some idea where they ve based their command.
Is it Citadel Tralkarn? Vandar asked, referring to the ruin that had once been the durthans greatest stronghold.
The fomorian snorted. Do you think they re stupid enough to establish themselves in the first place so that you berserkers and such would come looking for them? she said.
No, the invaders visited Citadel Tralkarn early on, before you had any idea that anything was amiss. They reanimated those they could, looted what remained to be looted, and moved on.
Where to? asked Aoth.
I don t know that all their captains are there, or even the chief one. But they re gathering strength at the Fortress of the Half-Demon, Grontaix said with a smirk.
Enough to slaughter your little band, I m sure.
Isn t that a Nar ruin? Cera asked.
Are the newcomers bringing back dead Nars, too?
Ask them when you meet them, assuming you re fool enough to go, the formorian replied.
We won t look foolish with my lodge behind us, Vandar said. This is what my brothers and I have been waiting for. Now that we know where to find our enemies, we can kill them.
Not a chance, Zyl said. Or at least, not unless my people help.
Will they? asked Aoth.
They might, said the hare. A squabble between humans and their dead grannies is no great matter to us. But if these invaders are giving our enemies among the fey silly notions, and if they re tampering with the fiends the Nars left locked in pentacles and the like, that could be a problem. We could certainly ask my prince to send warriors to look into the situation. One of you could tag along with me to help explain it.
While others, Aoth thought, fly back to the lodge house in Immilmar. Then the two forces will rendezvous near the haunted fortress.
It sounds like you have it all figured out, Grontaix growled. So why not go away and leave me in peace?
I told you, said Aoth. We re going to keep you hostage until you and you alone have accompanied us back aboveground. Unfortunately, I need to keep a weapon at your throat, so you ll have to put up with me riding on your shoulder. That is, unless you d rather crawl.
SIX
It wasn t much of a village, just a cluster of huts in the rugged hills between Lake Ashane and the Urlingwood. In such a backwater, there were relatively few people to kill, and even fewer who could put up a fight against the dead. By the time Dai Shan s shadow arrived, the massacre was nearly over, but not quite. It felt the survivors before it actually saw them, as points of warmth in the cold and dark. It sensed its peers, too, as something colder than cold and emptier than empty.
As the shadow came loping down the slope, one grinning corpse gripped a little boy s ankles, and another, his wrists. They pulled in opposite directions, and if they were hoping to rip him in two, they were disappointed. But he screamed as his arms and legs came out of their sockets.
A ghoul clawed a woman to rags, and then, when the victim stopped struggling, took an experimental bite out of her shoulder. It spat the bloody flesh out again, dumped the body on the ground, and, swinging itself along on its knuckles, scuttled toward the tiny graveyard.
A man drove a spear into a thing so decayed that the shadow couldn t tell if it had originally been male or female. Though it had no eyes left in the dark and mushy wreckage for a head, the creature looked down at the weapon, then grabbed its attacker by the neck.
The shadow needed to decide how best to approach the killers. It was still pondering in its murky way when a hathran in a white tabard, cloak, and single-horned mask and a unicorn suddenly appeared among the carnage.
Together, they shed a silvery glow that burned and dazzled the dead like sunlight. While the creatures were still reeling from that, the unicorn whipped its head and tore the mushy thing in two with its horn. The hathran chanted a prayer that turned the left half of a ghoul s body to dust. After the part that was left fell down, it tried feebly and futilely to crawl.
Perhaps because the shadow hadn t hurt anyone, the priestess and the unicorn didn t appear to notice it. It realized it had an opportunity to win the trust and attention of its fellow undead. It circled around behind the unicorn and the hathran. Then it charged.
When it got close enough, the pale light seared it, too, but the pain was bearable. It pounced like a cat, landing on the unicorn s back, and plunging its freezing, insubstantial hands into the sacred animal s flesh. The unicorn jerked and screamed.
Raising her scimitar, the witch pivoted toward her ally. But before she could strike or cast a spell at the shadow, an imp the size of a hawk, with beating batlike wings, pointed ears, and a mouth full of needle fangs, appeared in the air directly behind her. It whipped its tail, and the stinger at the end of it, at the back of her head.
The sting didn t seem to penetrate her woolen cowl. But she whirled to defend herself from the hovering devil and left the unicorn to look after itself.
The shadow pummeled the sacred beast repeatedly, as fast as it could. But the animal simply vanished out from underneath its attacker.
The shadow spilled to the ground like water. The unicorn popped back into view on its flank and instantly leaped, its shining horn leveled.
The shadow threw itself to the side, and the thrust missed. The unicorn pivoted, reared, and battered at it with its front hooves. One blow plunged through its arm, and it felt a shock of pain.
A burst of dark red, somehow filthy-looking flame splashed across the unicorn s side. The animal screamed and staggered, dropping back onto all fours. As it struggled to recover its balance, an undead stepped in and clubbed it in the head with a war hammer. Blood splashed and bone crunched. The unicorn collapsed and lay motionless. The haze of silvery glow surrounding it and the hathran dimmed.