by Dante King
“I need to fight him in the open for my plan to work. If that means he chooses the spot, then so be it. I just have to get him out into the open, and know beforehand where it will be.”
“I believe you, Vance,” Elyse said. Ah, Elyse—her faith in me never faltered. “Your strategic maneuvers have been uniformly brilliant for as long as I’ve known you, and I have no doubt in my mind that it’ll work.”
Well, it sounded like Elyse had more faith in me than I had in myself. I wasn’t completely certain my plan would work, but anything less than total confidence in my plan would cause the others to falter, and I couldn’t have that.
“I have faith in your plan too, Vance,” Isu said with a decisive nod. “Tell me what to do and I shall do it.”
“Everyone here can start by gathering all the corpses you can. Yumo and Rami-Xayon, ask your parents where recent victims of these lizard monsters have been buried. If there are any mass graves, even better. I’ll order my panthers to dig; cats dig holes to shit in, and I’m sure they’ll be just as good at digging up freshly buried corpses. Ji-Ko, divide your monks up, go to all the villages in this region, where the lizards have been killing people, and do the same thing I’ve just told everyone else to do. I need corpses, and lots of them.”
“Of course, God of Death,” Ji-Ko said with a bow. “My monks and I will work tirelessly for you. But what will you do while we are gathering the dead?”
“I’m going straight to the Warlock’s tower, alone, to slap my proverbial gauntlet across his ugly fucking face. I’m gonna challenge him to a pitched battle, anywhere he wants, and I’m going to make absolutely certain that he takes me up on my offer.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Talon flew straight to me, and I carefully observed the varied terrain of Yeng through her eyes in the two hours it took her to reach me. Rollar and Drok were leading my army across the land, with Rollar mounted on his undead direbear and Drok riding Fang, for now. I made a mental note to get someone to thoroughly scrub down Fang’s saddle before I sat in it again.
Everyone else had gone off to unearth corpses. The Warlock’s thousands of victims would soon take their revenge on him from beyond the grave.
Talon was carrying my full plate armor; I was going to need it for this meeting with the Warlock, just in case he decided to hurl a lightning bolt or two at me. It would probably only be meant to tenderize me; he wouldn’t have recovered yet from his all-out attack the day before, and I was certain that he’d want to crush me publicly, in a pitched battle, so that everyone could witness his triumph.
Still, the risk of him wanting to kill me quickly was there, so I put on my armor and filled it with Death power until it was saturated. The breastplate held a frostone and possessed a defensive kind of Cold Magic. I could easily take a hit from a lightning bolt in the armor now and be safe. I might even be able to take a couple of lightning strikes and be all right.
Once attired in the armor, I commanded Talon to grip me in her claws and fly me to the Warlock’s tower. I took my kusarigama and Grave Oath, but I left the Dragon Sword behind. While it was my most powerful weapon, it was more beneficial to keep the Warlock unaware that I possessed it. I could reveal it to him when we fought in our battle, when I used it to sever his head from his shoulders.
The monks had told me where to go, and finding the Warlock’s tower proved to be an easy enough task. The mountains we flew over were jagged and barren, but, as they’d said, there was a large grassy plateau in the middle of the mountain range, and it was there that the Warlock’s tower was located. Storm clouds swirled around the top of the tower, and bright purple veins of lightning flickered menacingly against them.
The Warlock could see through his storm clouds, and I was sure he must have seen me coming from miles away. As I neared his tower, I braced myself for a lightning strike, half expecting him to launch a sudden attack, but none came. When I came close enough to the tower to see it in detail, I noticed that there were only two doors: one on the ground, and one right at its zenith.
I was sure that the ground door was for those the Warlock considered beneath him (the vast majority of people), and since I intended to approach him as an equal, there was only one logical choice here. I flew up to the top door and landed on the gleaming white marble balcony next to it. Talon perched there and furled her wings to wait, while I went and bashed on the heavy steel door.
“You know who this is, Warlock!” I roared. “Open up!”
The door swung slowly open, and the huge, opulent chamber within was revealed. Paintings and tapestries by Yeng’s greatest artistic masters hung on the walls. Ancient Yengish statues, looted from temples and conquered castles by the Warlock’s army, stood in great numbers on the polished black marble floor. And there, standing in the center of the room, the decrepitude and ugliness of his looks magnified by the beauty of the artworks surrounding him, was the Warlock.
He wore his shimmering silken crimson and black robes, and his long, snow-white hair fell limply from an age-spotted face. Twin mustaches fell from gray lips, and his sunken cheeks made him look more skeleton than living man.
“Welcome to my tower, God of Nothing.” He swept his arm before him in a mocking gesture of welcome. “Have you come to beg for mercy? To ask for forgiveness for what you have done to me, and hope that I will spare you your worthless life? Or perhaps you think you can do what you did to Rodrick, and kill me singlehandedly? If the latter is the case, you are sorely mistaken. You can try to kill me, but I assure you, you will not succeed. I am stronger than Rodrick ever could have been, and I will crush you beneath my heel like the insect you are, God of Death, if you raise your hand against me in this chamber, here where my power is at its greatest.”
He spoke with the calm confidence of someone utterly faithful in their own strength, and there was no indication at all that he was afraid of me. This was good; I planned to exploit that confidence. It struck me as odd, though, that he knew about me and Rodrick. Why on earth would he have known about that? And why was he comparing his power to Rodrick’s?
My heart seized in my chest as I realized what I had almost purposefully avoided. The Warlock served the Blood God. Of that much, I was certain. Then, he must be in league with the Hooded Man. But what about the Spirit of Prosperity? How was it connected to the Blood God’s aims?
They were questions whose answers I’d have to seek out later.
“I thought about trying to kill you one on one,” I said, pretending that I didn’t know his current form was not his real body, “but I decided not to. It would just be too easy. It’d take all the fun out of wringing your scrawny neck if there weren’t other people around to see me do it.”
The Warlock cackled. “You’re just as arrogant as the rumors say, God of Nothing. If things had turned out differently, you could have made a splendid ally. But you chose poorly, a long time ago, and set off on a path that could never be allied with ours.”
“Enough with the bullshit. I’m here to challenge you, Warlock, to an open battle. Your army against mine, anywhere you want. Name the place and time, and we’ll meet you there, and settle this the old-fashioned way.”
He stared at me for a few seconds with surprise and disbelief etched into the wrinkles of his gaunt face, but then he began to laugh. Softly at first, but soon his cackling morphed into a riotous cacophony. Finally, his fit of laughter passed, and he looked up at me with mocking tears of mirth in his eyes.
“Do you really want to do this, God of Nothing?” he said.
“Why are you asking, Warlock? Are you too much of a coward to face me on the battlefield? Or are you scared that when your army picks on someone who can actually fight back that they’ll turn and run like the cowards they really are?”
Again he chuckled. “I suppose I shouldn’t blame you for your overconfidence,” he said when he stopped laughing. “After all, you’ve never faced a truly powerful opponent. I’d be happy to put you in your place, though, and show all the world
what a puny, hopeless little fool you really are. Your Death magic is nothing compared to what we now wield. Bring your army to me like lambs to the slaughter. The great grassy plain outside my tower will be a fitting site for my greatest victory, and will serve as a permanent graveyard for your undead abominations. Yes, we will fight out there, you and I. And everyone will see my true worth.”
“I’ll see you on the battlefield in two days, Warlock,” I said. “Any last words?”
He shook his head. “You make me laugh, God of Nothing. I’ll almost regret killing you. Now, get out of my sight.”
“With pleasure.” I gave him a low, swooping bow that dripped with sarcasm.
I walked out of the tower, half expecting him to launch a lightning bolt into my back, but it didn’t come. Talon picked me up with her claws, and we flew away. I smiled as we soared over the mountaintops. I was looking forward to this battle, and I couldn’t wait to finally summon my Death Titan.
I’d taken a calculated gamble with this one; it depended upon my ability to use the Dragon Sword to combine my powers with Rami-Xayon’s and create a superstorm, one that would drench the plain outside the Warlock’s tower with torrential rain over the course of the two days leading up to the battle. Then I would not only be able to smash the Warlock’s army with the Death Titan I was planning to unleash, I’d also hit him with a secret weapon that was just as powerful. There was a bowl in the plain, which, if filled with water, would be perfect for my strategy.
I flew straight back to the village, where my party members were eagerly awaiting my return. The smile on my face as Talon and I landed told them everything.
“He’s agreed to it?” Rami-Xayon asked.
“He has,” I answered. “The battle will be in two days, on the plain by his tower. There’s something else. I think the Warlock is in league with the Blood God, so we should expect some surprises.”
My eyes roamed across the faces of everyone gathered, and none seemed surprised.
“You all knew?” I asked.
“We thought you knew,” Anna-Lucielle said.
“It was so obvious once you vanquished the Warlock from the Emperor’s body, I never thought to say anything,” Layna said.
“Can someone explain?” I asked.
Isu sighed. “The Hooded Man was obviously not a single man, but many men. Certainly, the actual man who has troubled you of late was also here, but there were that many sightings that there had to be more than one person dressed in similar garb. And for so many men killing young maidens to go unpunished? Either the Emperor or the Warlock was protecting these people.”
I nodded, understanding now. “And the Emperor was obviously not allied with the Blood God, so it had to be the Warlock.” I smiled at my women. “Well, I’m glad we’re all on the same page now. Now, tell me, how many corpses have you guys managed to gather?”
“Around a hundred so far, but there are thousands more around here,” Anna-Lucielle said.
“I was forbidden from eating any,” Layna said, shooting Elyse a venomous glare. “Even those who were still alive but wounded, who could not be gathered for your purposes.”
“Elyse did the right thing,” I said. “You can’t eat any of the villagers. No humans. Well, maybe some of our enemies.”
“Your undead swordsman and spearman, as well as the Emperor’s Yengish warriors arrived here earlier, and they started digging too.” Yumo was covered in a thick layer of dirt, and maybe a bit of gore, too. It didn’t make her look any less beautiful. Well, maybe a little less.
I nodded. “My army should get here tomorrow, and my undead troops can dig plenty of corpses up in half a day. I’m hoping that there’ll be enough corpses for each soldier to carry one. Then, the day after that, we march to the Warlock’s tower and kick his fucking ass. First though, Rami-Xayon, I’m going to need your help. I need a superstorm; two days of the most torrential rain we can dump on that plain. There’s another thing, and it’s going to require the strongest tornado you’ve ever conjured, combined with every ounce of Death power I can muster. Let’s get on that superstorm first, though.”
I took the Dragon Sword and Rami-Xayon to an empty hut in the village, where we wouldn’t be disturbed.
“The first thing we need to do is to locate water sources to turn into rain,” Rami-Xayon said.
“Don’t worry, I made a mental note of all the water sources near the Warlock’s tower when Talon and I flew over the region,” I said. “There are a couple lakes, rivers, dams, streams. Plenty of water. All we have to do is move it.”
“Easier said than done, but I’ll do my best.”
“With this sword,” I said, holding the Dragon Sword aloft, “it might turn out to be just as easily done as said, with my Death power bolstering your Wind power.”
“There’s only one way to find out.”
Rami-Xayon held my left hand to create a link between us as she worked the storm magic, while I channeled Death energy from the depths of the earth beneath me through my body and spirit. As it had when I’d created my Ice tornado shield in the fight against the lizard monsters, the Dragon Sword conjured up glowing, semi-transparent orbs of different-colored energy before me. There was Wind power from Rami-Xayon, and my own Death power. There was also an image of a swirling hurricane and multiple tornados, and I pulled a hefty chunk of Death power from the black orb and shoved it into the hurricane and tornados.
“By all the gods!” Rami-Xayon immediately gasped. “I felt that! They’re suddenly far more powerful than anything I could have created on my own!”
“The magic of the Dragon Sword, baby, the magic of the fucking Dragon Sword.” I grinned. “Let’s drain those lakes and dams, and dump all that water on the Warlock’s plain. Get those tornados sucking like a copper-coin whore behind a sailors’ tavern on discount night!”
With my help, Rami-Xayon directed her enormously powerful tornados to the various lakes, dams, and rivers in the region of the Warlock’s tower. The windstorms sucked up and vaporized the water, impregnating the hurricane she was simultaneously forming with a small sea’s worth of water. Once the vast hurricane could no longer hold a drop more, we sent it to the Warlock’s plain. There, it howled and raged, dumping a torrential downpour upon the battlefield.
Rami panted and shook from the effort. “It’ll keep going until all that water we’ve stuffed into them is spent.”
She had used every last drop of her power to put this storm together, and was on the verge of collapse. I wasn’t feeling too fantastic either.
“We’d both better get some rest and restore our energy,” I said. “Our next feat will require even more strength than that. We can do that tomorrow night, though; the closer to the battle, the better, really.”
“What do you need this gigantic tornado for anyway?” she asked.
I just smiled and shook my head; she didn’t need to know just yet. She’d probably dismiss the idea as crazy. When her strength had been restored, she’d be more likely to put the idea in the realm of possibility. Hell, I wasn’t sure whether the idea wasn’t crazy myself. It probably was, but it was the only way we could destroy the Warlock and rid his stain from Yeng.
Chapter Thirty-Two
While Rami-Xayon was resting, I went to check what my party and my undead creatures had achieved thus far. The results were impressive; the panthers and giant lizards had been digging tirelessly, and many corpses in various states of decay had been unearthed. I still needed a great many more to construct my Death titan, but I was confident that by the time my army was to set off for the Warlock’s plain, I’d have enough.
Nightfall came, and in the distance our hurricane raged, slowly filling up the hollow in the plain with water and turning it into a pond. Storm clouds gathered above us in the village, and shears of lightning ripped through the sky, but no lightning struck nearby. The Warlock was simply showing off, giving us a show of what he intended for the battlefield in two days.
My army arrived in the villa
ge the next day, and my chest swelled with pride at the sight of it. Drok, mounted on Fang, and Rollar, riding his undead direbear, were leading the army into the village. My divisions of undead creatures was diverse and impressive, from the towering Frost Giants and terrifying war spiders, to the undead barbarian cavalry on direwolves, the new elite Yengish warriors with their swords and spears, my mutant lizards and panthers, the zombie Crusaders, archers, and crossbowmen, the skeleton cavalry and infantry divisions, led by good ol’ Sarge with his golden paladin’s greatsword, and many others.
I’d started off as a lone assassin and crypt diver, robbed of my title and lands by my uncle and cast out of the holy city of Luminescent Spires by Elandriel—who had told me, incidentally, that I’d end up nothing more than a street beggar. And now I had this, the greatest undead army the world had ever seen, with troops numbering almost ten thousand in total. And I was leading this force as the God of Death. Fuck you and your bullshit prophecy, Elandriel.
Isu, standing next to me, seemed to be reading my mind. “You’ve come a long way, Vance. I knew I was making the right decision when I made you Fated. Even so, I could never have imagined that you’d achieve this. There have been other Death deities before you and I, but none have ever commanded an army like this. I don’t think the world has ever seen an army like this one.”
“And tomorrow the Warlock will find out exactly what this army is capable of.” I clenched my fists with determined resolve. “After tomorrow, the whole world is going to know what the God of Death and his Army of Necrosis are capable of.”
I had a few drinks with Rollar and Drok to bring them up to speed and gave Fang a good scratch behind his ears (he seemed to have missed me, which was odd but interesting for an undead beast). When I’d achieved a little buzz, I rested for a while, building up my strength after what Rami-Xayon and I had done the day before. We’d need to repeat that performance tonight, in the early hours of the morning when everyone else was asleep. It would take every last drop of power we could wring from our minds, bodies, and souls.