Book of The Dead

Merigold didn’t especially want to be part of the discussions around the table in General Crow’s tent, but as the representative of the Imperial Court and head of the Special Administration, she was obligated to be. As always, Honoured Stennis stood by her shoulder, an imposing and indomitable presence, silent and staring, his face a mask.

On the table, the General and his officers discussed quietly, moving small ribbons around on the map they had created. Each of the officers held reports that had been delivered only minutes ago from the scouts, records of their observations that had been completed upon their return to the camp. They compared the details on the map to those on the pages until they were sure they had everything right.

“You should drink,” Stennis said, surprising Merigold so much she nearly squeaked aloud.

Looking over her shoulder, she saw he wasn’t even looking at her, but continuing to play his gaze around the tent, perhaps even looking beyond it with his preternatural senses.

“I had something to drink in my own tent, thank you,” she replied.

They’d returned back to the camp over an hour ago, and she’d taken the opportunity to rest. Being out in the sun had been draining, surrounded by soldiers, but more than that, the oppressive atmosphere and tension had made it feel like she’d been waiting out there for an entire day rather than just a few hours.

Remembering when the shards had ripped through the earth, causing her horse to rear and shouts to rise all around her, caused her heart to start pounding. She hadn’t seen Stennis move, but he had been there by her side in an instant, covering her with his cloak.

In that moment alone she felt she had aged five years.

Emotionally exhausted, she hoped that she wouldn’t have to do or say anything here in the command tent as they went through their final preparations. With so much on the line, what reason could they have to turn towards her?

Thankfully, as the minutes ticked by, that seemed to be the case. Once the officers were satisfied the map in front of them was as accurate as it could be, they began to discuss different approaches to the battle, arguing over tactics and deployment while General Crow watched over them with a stern eye. Although he didn’t contribute anything himself, the General heard and saw all, taking in everything and drawing his own conclusions.Relieved at not being included, Merigold let her thoughts drift back to the confrontation with the Necromancer.

It was bizarre to think that, even though he had been surrounded by so many undead, Tyron Steelarm had been completely alone inside Foxbridge. No other living being had been sighted, which meant everyone they had seen was an undead of some description.

Was that how he lived? Surrounded by the shells of the living and their ghastly, wailing spirits? How could anyone exist like that and not go completely mad?

She shivered as she recalled the floating undead, with their skull-topped staves and glowing red bones. What a terrible sight, even worse than the looming skeleton with black mist rising from its bones. All of the skeletons had looked that way, some form of advanced skeletal undead that she had never heard of. At least she’d recognised that the strange spell-casting minions were some form of lich, which didn’t bode well. If the crazed Steelarm was capable of creating a lich, then he may be far more difficult to destroy than they had supposed.

Considering how much more powerful he had been than she had thought…

When he had spoken the Words of Power, she had felt that force even from kilometres away. Despite their training and discipline, the mages standing behind her couldn’t disguise the shock they had felt, not completely. With authority and power like that, he must have unlocked several mysteries—powerful ones at that.

When the initial task force of a thousand troops had come, she had estimated they had a sixty percent chance. Having seen the Necromancer in person, she now felt she may have underestimated him, despite her best efforts to the contrary. Had that attack gone ahead, there was probably an eighty percent chance the soldiers would have been defeated and then raised again to fight the Empire.

A dire outcome that had to be avoided at all costs.

“Establishing magickal superiority will be difficult,” the leader of the mage corps, Mage Captain Elinon stated. “To cut the enemy off completely would require us to fully surround Foxbridge, which may leave our lines thin. Against a mage of this power and level, I would deem it unwise for us to allow him to attack an area where only a few mages are in position to defend. They could be overwhelmed in moments.”

“Surely the mages of the Golden Legion are capable of standing up for longer than that?” another officer pushed back. “We can reinforce from one side of the town to the other in a matter of minutes.”

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

“Be mindful that we are not against only a single mage,” Elinon reminded them, his tone firm and blonde hair glimmering in the enchanted light of the globes. “We saw numerous undead capable of advanced spellcasting. It’s possible the Necromancer can bring the power of dozens of mages to bear on a single point. Even if they can’t match our own in quality, the numbers will prove sufficient to be dangerous.”

“In that case, I advise against fully surrounding Foxbridge and laying siege,” another officer contributed, gesturing to the map. “If thinning the lines is that dangerous, we should aim to concentrate our force and hit from two sides at most.”

“Should we push him towards the river?”

“I’m not sure the current is fast enough to cause any significant threat, and the undead are unlikely to drown.”

“Good point.”

“If we don’t encircle the town, then what guarantee do we have that the Necromancer won’t simply retreat?”

“If they do, it will be to our advantage. He has no hope of being able to outpace us in the open field, and without any sort of cover, we can use hit and run tactics to wear him down to nothing.”

“Leaving Foxbridge would deprive him of any magickal preparations he might have made. It would be suicide.”

In this way, they continued to discuss back and forth, arguing for various approaches without heat or rancour, only logic and reason, while the General continued to listen and ponder. When he had finally heard enough, General Crow raised a hand and everyone around the table fell silent at once.

“I agree that a full encirclement won’t be to our advantage. The Necromancer will do everything he can not to be dislodged from Foxbridge, so we will bring the fight to them there.

“However, that does not mean that we take our opponent lightly.” General Crow’s eyes flashed around the table in warning. “Any lost Soldier is a potential recruit for our opponent. We proceed by the book. Long range magickal bombardment, soften the target before we initiate close quarters combat. We need to fight through the miasma, so wind will be important before we go in. Our aim is not to destroy the horde in its entirety, but to capture the Necromancer and bring him out into custody.”

A ripple of confusion ran through the gathered officers. Mage Captain Elinon spoke up.

“Why capture, general? Wouldn’t it be much easier just to kill him?”

General Crow shook his head.

“There are strange and dark forces at play in this rebellion. I have been instructed to take Tyron Steelarm into custody so a Soul Annihilation ritual can be conducted on him. It’s the only way we can be certain he will never come back to haunt us.”

He glanced around the room.

“We only need to hold him for a few days. I trust that isn’t an unreasonable demand?”

Each of the officers assented. After all, they weren’t looking forward to this battle so much they were eager to perhaps have to do it again.

“We’ve counted upwards of ten thousand undead inside Foxbridge,” the General informed them, pointing to the various ribbons placed on the map, “but their deployment is likely to change before we assault tomorrow. Despite whatever dark powers this heretic plans to throw at us, we have the upper hand. We will complete our objective, smash this undead horde and go on to do the same to the rest of the rebellion.

“Is that clear?”

“Yes, General Crow!” the officers snapped, saluting their leader.

“And does this strategy meet the expectations of the Administration?” the General asked, turning toward Merigold in the corner.

She shrunk into her chair as dozens of pairs of eyes turned towards her.

“Uh… yes. Yes, of course it does.”

If needed, she nodded firmly, just to emphasise the point. Thankfully, nobody said anything and simply turned back to the map. As they began to discuss the finer points of the strategy, exact deployments, timings, and the distribution of troops, Merigold caught the General looking at her.

With the slightest of smiles and a nod to the exit, he indicated she was free to leave, and she almost folded in on herself with relief. Before she could even stand, Stennis was by her side, offering her his hand to help rise from her seat.

Hesitantly, she took it, startled as ever by the unyielding strength he possessed. Despite pulling on his hand to help lever herself up, it didn’t move a single centimetre, as if she exerted no force on him at all.

With a grateful nod, she headed outside, moving to her own tent, with Honoured Stennis a comforting presence behind her.

“I will remain on guard outside your tent, Lady Herimar,” he told her. “May you rest well in peace.”

She turned to look at him, already taking up his position outside her tent, surprised.

“Again? Do you not need rest, Honoured Stennis?” she asked him.

He didn’t bother turning around, his eyes scanning the camp in the dimming light as the sun began to set.

“Not for several days yet, my Lady,” he told her. “Do not worry about my condition, I’m perfectly fine.”

He was a platinum ranked soldier of the Emperor, he could probably fight for days on end without a problem. Even so, she didn’t feel comfortable for such an august individual to be put out for her sake.

“Will you be participating in the battle tomorrow?” she asked, a little hesitant. “I’m… I’m worried that some of us will die.”

“Some of us will,” he told her, his voice steady and unwavering as his posture. “We fight in the service of the Empire and we die in the service of the Empire. The Five Divines expect nothing less from us. It’s nothing for you to feel guilty about. And no, I will not be participating. My orders are to keep you safe. Unless you yourself intend to get involved in the fighting, then I will not be either.”

Yet, he had offered to go in there himself…. If he was only here to protect, then why?

Shying away from questions she might not like the answer to, Merigold said no more and retreated into her tent. All that awaited her was another restless night, tossing and turning as she contemplated the death and destruction that would occur the next day, and the role she had played in bringing it about.