The Necromancer was not pleased once she woke up, and Galukar was rather surprised by how long it took her. Ordinarily a blow to the head left someone unconscious for moments, if even that. Any longer and it suggested something had gone very, very wrong. She slept for hours. But it was just that, sleep. Galukar realised soon after she lost consciousness that he had not damaged the woman in any permanent way- simply made her succumb to what she’d been staving off for weeks. Fatigue.

  She slept, and that was all. Genuine, true sleep born from nothing more complex or sinister than exhaustion. It wasn’t until almost an entire day had begun and ended that she finally woke up.

  More than enough time for a good army to manage twenty miles, and apparently enough for an army of Kaltan to march almost thirty. Galukar might have been impressed were they not dirty, disreputable traitors intend on subverting the will of God.

  Their destination was not yet in sight, by then, but they had covered up a considerable stretch of the journey. More importantly, Galukar was back in command, which meant the Necromancer wasn’t able to seize the army back around with orders, no matter how loudly she barked them. Days, marching, distance covered and morale slowly trickling back to some semblance of normalcy. Galukar was surprised to find he enjoyed more prestige, not less, for his near-defeat against the Demon. It might have been reassuring in other circumstances, but the awe he saw directed at him now only told him that the entity enjoyed a truly terrible level of fear in their soldiers. He couldn’t be the man who did the impossible for killing one, not if they were to be convinced to so much as stand before another.

  Galukar half-expected to see the war camps in tattered ruins, so disastrous had their outing been. He didn’t of course. They were as far from the devastation of open combat as they had been at the start of the conflict, and unscarred as an infant. If anything the assembly of tents had grown, diffusing and spreading across the landscape like some infection in a wound. It put into perspective how great a success Shaiagrazni had found in gathering forces for his budding Empire.

  And that, Galukar knew, was what it was. An Empire. He had no illusions about Shaiagraznian conquest stopping once the Dark Lord was beaten. They were simply trading one for the other.

  Which was fine by him, because he’d seen the one.

  Galukar saw the army break apart as they finally neared their destination. Men hurried out like scattering rats, running to what he imagined was a mix of wives, whores and places with drink. In that order, he could only hope. His own path was different, such indulgences hadn’t held any sway over him for a long while now. He was surprised to find the Necromancer trailing after him still, looking better but nonetheless wrung out after her ordeals during his unconsciousness.

  That was fine, Galukar had no issue with her pushing herself behind the safe pickets of a war camp. He continued to the main command tent, stepping into the pavilion and searching quickly.

  “Shaiagrazni!” He called out. “We have returned!”

  Galukar searched with his eyes, first, then his hearing. There was no sight of Shaiagrazni, and no returning call of the caster to indicate he’d been heard. Instead another voice struck him, higher, softer, and twisted with amusement.

  “Ah, you were rather quick.” Lilia the Vampire Queen breathed, having taken a seat near the centre of the room and swivelled to gaze upon him as he entered. “I take it all did not go according to plan, then?”

  If she was concerned, the woman- the thing- gave no indication. Simply smiled away, as if the prospect of many thousands dying was of no consequence at all.

  Galukar felt the words clogging his throat like snow piled up before a cart, and had to force them out. They tasted bitter. Defeat always did.

  “The enemy surprised us.” He said at last. “Not in any ambush, they moved exactly as predicted- even had the conventional forces we’d expected to find. But they had more. A Demon.”

  It was a rare pleasure to see the Queen of Vampires taken aback, a very rare pleasure. Galukar didn’t find it in him to enjoy it however.

  “I see.” She replied, voice suddenly a shade strained. He understood completely. “And this Demon, where is it now?”

  “Back in Hell.” He growled. “But there were more, weaker, but more. And I suspect we’ve not seen the limits of the Dark Lord’s capacity to summon them either.”

  The Vampire didn’t answer instantly, apparently content to take a moment reserved for thought. When she finally spoke her voice was calm, but far from relaxed.

  “I see. And where were the Dark Lord’s forces that you last saw?”

  “Heading this way, perhaps a dozen leagues from us. With luck they’ll be here in one day, without it their attack will come at night.”

  The Vampire nodded. “Very well. We shall handle it when they come, then. It seems we’re to fight a second defensive battle.”

  Galukar felt his anger grow, then. The sheer coolness of this one was more than just unnerving, it was potentially disastrous.

  “We need to act quickly.” He snapped. “Urgently. Where is Shaiagrazni?!”

  “He is busy.” She replied, evenly. “Far too busy, I think, to tolerate any sort of disturbance at all, even from me.”

  “Master Shaiagrazni has done this before.” The Necromancer pointed out, apparently feeling the need to speak at last. “During the siege of Kaltan, he locked himself away for days. I’ll bet he’s working on some new project to turn the tide against our enemy.”

  Galukar was inclined to agree, but he still recalled the long days Shaiagrazni had needed to finish his last. And how much smaller the enemy’s army had been then.

  And more than anything, he recalled the total immunity Demons had to any kind of disease or pathogen. Even the kinds a Fleshcrafter might produce.

  But he said nothing. There was nothing to say, after all. He’d had a single chance to avert their current situation, and he’d failed the moment he fell unconscious from that damned sky.

  ***

  Ado was beginning to think that Kaltans were not, in fact, human. They’d spent an hour marching before finally reaching the carriages Collin Baird had brought with him to rescue her, and though the distance and time were not nearly as long as some she’d seen crossed, they were long enough to make clear the difference between them.

  There was a great gulf separating normal men from veteran soldiers, that much Ado knew. What was news to her was the still greater one between a mere soldier and the hardened killers of Kaltan, and that was to say nothing of their damned Rangers. At the pace they set, despite her carefully maintained fitness, her own lungs and sides were screaming in pain within a few minutes.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  It wasn’t for lack of effort, that she lagged behind. Ado was giving all the effort she could have been asked to, and was motivated to do as much by the sight at her back. A burning city, smoke still billowing from it, embers still glowing bright. Brighter, really, against the ever-darkening landscapes.

  She knew intellectually that there was little danger at risk of emerging from the giant pyre. Intellect had very little to do with her legs, though, and the sight of such a momentous blaze seemed to compel them into movement unlike anything else she’d experienced before.

  Ado continued marching- almost jogging- until her mouth tasted sour with stomach acid and her every breath was a chestful of burning coals. Then she marched some more.

  Fortunately, Ado was saved from pushing herself to exhaustion or death by the carriages. They were rare things, rarer than perhaps any other variety in all the world. So few, after all, were made by Shaiagrazni’s own hands. And none were faster.

  The Paladins took convincing, but in the end the argument was won more by the vehicles’ speed than anything else.

  Of course their shock had more than a little to do with it, and there were still those who insisted on trying their luck in the wilderness alone. Ado didn’t even pity them. She’d seen first hand what religious stupidity could do to harm others, she was rather satisfied to see it finally harming those who actually owned the sentiments. The sensation of winds whipping her anew certainly helped.

  On a carriage- a real, Shaiagraznian carriage- she was safe. Ado surprised herself by feeling the sudden certainty, even as she revelled in it. Titles, authority, alliances and promises of politics- all these things had shielded her before. None had proven above the ravages of circumstance and convenience. But the sheer speed of these vehicles…That was something to be relied upon. That was a simple fact of the world.

  Baird did not seem to share her thrill, he did not seem to share much of anything going on in Ado’s head. As usual his eyes were kept ahead, face cold and still, everything about him denying the moments of fleeting vulnerability they’d shared before.

  Good, she decided. Ado would have squirmed at his very presence had anything changed, what she needed now was consistency. Even if that consistency came from a cretin being cretinous.

  But he never really was, was he?

  Her thoughts bristled. Ado would have to apologise to him, properly. Eventually. But not now.

  “Fuck.”

  Baird’s utterance snapped Ado out of her stupor, and whipped her eyes around to fall upon him. His face remained unchanged. At first. Slowly, though, the dawning horror thickened.

  She stared ahead, scrutinising the distance for any trace of whatever it was which had caught his notice. She saw none, temper fraying.

  “What are you looking at?” She demanded, glancing back at him, and finding Baird now turned to the head of the Vampires.

  “You see it too?” He asked.

  “Of course.” She replied, both of them matching the other’s tone nearly exactly. Dread, Ado realised, was crushing every other trace of expression in either mouth.

  “See what?!” She growled, fear raising her voice’s volume now. Applying a pressure at the back of her throat which demanded escape through frantic speech. Fortunately, it succeeded in drawing Baird’s gaze back to her.

  Unfortunately, his gaze was even more dark with focus and fear than before. Better to be skewered through the belly than affixed with a stare like that.

  “The warcamps are up ahead.” He told her. “Ten leagues or so, not very long at all by these carriages. But the Dark Lord’s already on them. And his armies are bigger than ours. Exponentially bigger. It’s like watching a lake try to fight the ocean.”

  Fuck.

  ***

  The armies had gotten bigger. Galukar didn’t think it was just through reanimative work on their route to the warcmaps, something more was afoot. Doubtless they’d united with other forces on their way, bolstering themselves by concentrating strength and turning the great compound against them.

  It was the very thing he’d been meant to prevent from happening. Everything really had fallen apart when that Demon had rendered him unconscious. A twinge of pain flared up at Galukar’s side.

  He’d healed faster than he expected, and was now more or less combat-ready. But for once that didn’t fill him with any measure of confidence. Not staring at that force, and certainly not knowing what would be waiting among the ranks of undead and abominations.

  “Hm, more than I might have expected.”

  It was Lilia who’s voice he heard, and Galukar turned to see the creature still wore her infuriating mask of confidence. She stepped forwards, clothing changed, now, in style. Her broad, flowing dress was gone and replaced with more form-fitting combat-appropriate apparel, hair bound behind her, leggings and boots protecting her lower body. The transformation was a stunning surprise, but it did nothing to instill confidence.

  A woman with fashion consultants might have coined a similar transformation. That did not make her a warrior, nor did it mean this Vampire knew the first thing about what they were staring down.

  “You could at least take that smile off your face.” Galukar grunted. “The enemy will cut it off you soon enough either way.”

  She grinned.

  “Oh my, that does sound violent. I’ll have to do my best to deter them then.”

  He noticed the Vampire gave no hint about how that might be achieved, simply watched as their enemies closed ever further in.

  “We’re doomed.” Galukar sighed, watching the enemy’s approach. Oddly, he felt no strong emotional response to the knowledge.

  He’d not always known he would die in battle, but he’d certainly hoped. The Godblade’s wielder wasn’t immortal, just well-preserved. Within a few more decades his weapon’s capacity to sustain him would have failed, and he’d have surrendered to old age. Better to fall with a weapon in his hand and a mound of dead enemies at his feet, than that.

  The Vampire, apparently, did not see things the same way.

  “Relax.” She grinned. “This will go better than you think, and Shaiagrazni is still preparing his latest project.”

  If she told him to relax one more time, Galukar might well start his final rampage with her. He growled, tightening his grip on the Godblade, waited.

  Their position was good. Excellent, really. It was the total wealth of every force Shaiagrazni had yet mustered. They had Magi hired from Magira, and those nations who had been using such individuals. They had Kaltans, of course, and Abaritans to form the bulk of their military. Conscripts taken and carefully trained for weeks to as great a quality as was possible in so meagre a time.

  In any other battle- perhaps truly any other in all of history- they would have had the numbers. A quarter-million men extracted from countless leagues of countryside. Today, though, they were outweighed several to one.

  And they didn’t have a fortress like they had last time.

  Their defences were hastily made things, walls of bone and that “keratin” stuff Shaiagrazni used so much, without even lacing from the iron that made his personal armour so fiendishly resilient. They stood thirty feet or so, and encircled most of their camps. Most. In truth, it was more of a giant wedge than anything else, a force multiplier to cut into the enemy’s frontlines and maximise their casualties for as long as the fight continued its infancy.

  Once they were fully encircled, though, that would vanish. There were defences at the back, made to turn the sole entrance into a viciously-deadly choke point more savage to traverse than any conventional breach. Still, the enemy today could get through with simple numbers.

  Galukar started pacing, then stopped himself as he remembered the countless eyes which were doubtless scrutinising him for such fear. He halted, turned back to stare at the enemy, fought the tremble which threatened to seize him.

  “Relax.” The Vampire repeated, as Galukar did not remove its head. “They’re closing in, now, we’ll be able to do something soon.”

  Even as she said it, arrows started flying. Not Ranger bolts, cast across a full mile to remove heads from mere pin-pricks in the distance. Regular arrows, wielded by the bulk of their military. Three hundred yards, that was where they’d start from. Men could cover that much distance in scarily little time. Undead in even less.

  Another minute passed with torturous length before the Vampire finally sighed again, and started moving forwards.

  “Well, I think it’s about time we made a start on this battle.” She headed to the front of their battlements, then dropped down below as if the thirty feet were mere inches and landed without so much as a bend of her knees. Then she continued walking.

  The enemy was one hundred yards from them, now, and only ninety from her. Closing like a black tsunami, Galukar almost looked away. He was about to see the Vampire torn to pieces.

  Ninety paces from her. Then eighty, then seventy- and Galukar could start to differentiate the snarling voices from one another. Fifty, and he could see twisted faces behind helms and salivating maws stretched wide for her flesh. Thirty, and his heart was pounding as the Vampire remained where she was and simply stared out. Was she frozen with terror? Was she petrified? Or was she just delusional.

  He started for the edge of the wall, meaning to haul the bitch back by force. He could make it, Galukar thought, he could save her.

  Twenty paces, and the Vampire called out a single word. A word that ran through him, cleanly, like the edge of a spear cutting through meat. Galukar froze.

  “Halt.” Ordered the Vampire.

  And the enemy halted.