Storm of Prophecy: Book 1, Dark Awakening (49 page)

Ever so slowly, Master Anthony made a motion with his head toward the rest of the force he had gathered. “As you can see, your men would only be cream on a cake. Your contracts out here can’t be many. You need this job more than we need you.”

He seemed offended by this and his tone became imperious. “For your information,
wizard
, we’ve just returned from a reconnaissance mission into the badlands two days ago. A mission paid for by the king. He hires
us
to track Orc movements quite regularly. Without
my
men, your academy would have been clueless about that shaman’s uprising sixty-two years past.”

He then paused and squinted at Master Anthony, inspecting him without losing his irreverent tone or demeanor. “I think I recognize your face. You’ve aged a bit, but you’re still a stripling in my book. If I’m not mistaken, I believe you were one of the young wizards sent to assassinate him.”

“I was,” Anthony remarked, not mentioning anything about Deralon’s disrespect for his
young
age. “You do have a long record of reliable service. But this time we face something significantly more dangerous, something that requires more skill than needed for hunting Orcs. Your men will have to be more accurate than usual. I don’t want them hitting any of mine.”

“I already told you before: if you want results, you have to pay my fee.”

The caped Rygan officer stepped forward, gesturing with a low swipe of his hand not carrying the shield. “The foe we face is great in number
-
you are only twenty. Archers are usually unreliable cowards who flee when overrun or get ground up into carrion by cavalry.” He looked around at the brutish Elves with a sneer forming at his dark mustache. “Your band of misfits look little better.” He brought his attention back to their leader. The mercenaries’ reactions were as odd as everything else about them. Some glared, some smiled in crazed delight, some let out loony sounding giggles, and others just looked bored. “How can we justify the exorbitant price tallied to our king if we can’t be assured of your professionalism?”

The Elf commander did not appear as angry at this as Vincent would have thought. “Under the bench over there,”-he pointed-“I keep a sack filled with only the right front fang”-he held his thumb and first finger to show the small, half-inch length-“of each slain Orc. My men and I make a sport of killing them by having our arrows cut it off before piercing the back of their skull.”

Vincent regarded the open sack again for a moment. It displayed many sharp whitish teeth in a pile inside. He found himself wondering if they had actually accomplished this impressive feat or if they had only collected the fangs afterward. The Rygan officer shook his head with a sigh of disgust and took a few steps away, tiring of the negotiation. The Elf commander ignored him and continued to stare at Master Anthony.

What Rick seemed more incredulous about was the number. “That’s all?”

The Elf didn’t look his way when he spoke to his mercenaries. “Show them, men.”

The twenty others, one by one, some with a groan of disapproval, went back inside the building and each came out carrying two heavy sacks, tossing them in front of the group of wizards. As the officer turned his head to see this, he made a point with two gloved fingers and flicked it toward the bags. A few Rygan soldiers responded to this by breaking rank to go inspect them, testing their weight and opening them to see inside.

Each man had a shocked expression and stared a moment at each bag’s contents before moving on to the next. A few reached gloved hands in to make sure there were teeth and nothing else. When finished, they looked toward Master Anthony and the Rygan officer and nodded their heads before returning to their places. Vincent was astonished; there must have been thousands of Orc fangs. The number killed was quite impressive, even if there was doubt as to whether or not it was done in the manner described.

The Elf commander lifted his head back slightly, arrogantly eying Master Anthony with his strange pointy yellow eyes. He furled his lips, revealing his teeth. It, among other things, had given Vincent the distinct impression that these Elf men were not mentally stable.

Master Anthony calmly sighed and opened the wooden box in his arm while holding his gaze. From inside, he pulled out a parchment, ink bottle, and quill. He shut the box and rested the parchment on top of it, using his inner arm for support. The stopper for the ink bottle came loose, and he began penning the company’s name and contract price on the royal voucher at the top, providing his name as the endorsing signature at the bottom.

Afterward, they moved out, the drums continuing to sound. They paid a brief visit to the city hall, a fortress-like building, and spoke with the magistrate. When Master Anthony told him about how they were hunting a powerful throng of necromancers, whom as such were in violation of the king’s law, he agreed to help their cause. Unfortunately, he could only spare a hundred men from the city garrison, any more would weaken their defenses. Master Anthony accepted, and their combined force marched on to rendezvous with the scouts.

* * *

As a breakfast, Vincent ate a few strips of dried meat from his pack while they plodded on through the forest. Along with Karl and Rick, he stayed close to Master Anthony at the front of their force. The Rygan officer had the men change to a wide, more box-like formation to fan out in preparation for battle. They kept more or less to this with the woodland terrain forcing many irregularities in their ranks, and the footsteps were now a series of random, unsynchronized, softer clanks.

They still made a lot of noise, but their purpose this day was not to sneak up on their enemy
-
their purpose was to crush him with brute force. The red Rygan banner was still held high, and the black crest of a lion standing on its hind legs in an attack posture seemed eager to pounce this day. Drummers continued to drum more for the sake of keeping discipline and letting everyone know that a fight was close than to time their steps.
Dun dun d-dun dun, dun dun d-dun dun
. The mercenaries preferred to remain in the rear so as to provide support without entering any melee.

To Vincent, everyone was focused. Everyone except for the seeress that Master Anthony had brought along. She kept sneaking glances at his cousin Karl when he wasn’t looking. From overhearing conversations she had with others from the keep, he learned that her name was Amanda. There was nothing wrong with her liking of Karl, he supposed. Before the battle started, she and the cerebist would have to seek shelter far in the rear anyway; her preoccupation with his cousin was not detrimental.

Around midday, the sky had become overcast, and they encountered the group of scouts who had located Clyde and his undead thralls. They were at the top of a gently falling rise. Stacy stood with a group consisting of his two former guards, a blonde cerebist woman, a young seer with a staff, and a pyromancer Elf. All looked quite tired, as though they had spent an entire night without any sleep, but Stacy appeared even more fatigued and had dark rings around her eyes.

Karl greeted her with his flippant tongue. “Wow, Stacy. What
did
Master Anthony punish you with?” Her mentor ignored the jest.

“
It’s nice to see you too, Karl,” she replied.

The mustached botanical mage spoke next after eying Vincent and Rick. “So,” he said in a drawn out tone of recognition, “he brought your other friends. Looks like your little club of delinquents is complete once more.”

They were all silent for a moment. Stacy folded her arms under her breasts. He looked toward her but only found a glare of annoyance. He was undaunted by it, and gestured toward her with his head while looking at the others. “Well, I suppose
she’s
alright, but I don’t know about
you
three.”

Master Anthony returned things to the business at hand. “The six of you have had no sleep. If you wish it, you may refrain from joining the battle and return to the keep.”

“
We’ll stay,” Vincent’s two former guards voiced as one, glancing at each other afterward because of the strangeness of having been so timed.

The old wizard looked toward Stacy. “I’ll stay too,” she said.

Everyone then turned their attention to the pyromancer Elf who wore red robes and had long black hair. He looked around oddly as though he were being incriminated in some way. “Alright, alright, I’ll stay too!” No one had said a single word to pressure him yet that’s how he seemed to interpret their temporary, silent, gazes. The blonde cerebist woman and the seer said nothing.

Master Anthony looked and pointed at the cerebist woman. “You,”-he then pointed at the seer-“and you, may also remain if you choose. You’ll have to stay with these two”-he indicated with a slight pass of his hand behind him toward the plump cerebist man and the seeress, Amanda-“well behind us, and out of the battle.”

The cerebist woman looked over at Stacy and the others. “Well, I guess this is goodbye for now.”

“
Take care,” Stacy replied kindly.

“Make sure to keep yourself and the kid far away,” the mustached botanical mage reminded. He then turned his head to look back toward their enemies. “…things are about to get really ugly.”

Chapter
XX

T
he color of the grass down across the wide expanse between the trees was subdued somewhat by the overhanging cloud cover. Vincent looked up warily, scanning each portion of the sky, and then noticed Rick, Stacy, and Karl doing the same. The mustached botanical mage eyed them each curiously but said nothing. Vincent’s nostrils were filled with the smell of fresh air until it was replaced by another: rotting flesh. Neither he nor Rick complained about it, having faced worse odors, but many others did, covering their faces or plugging their noses in disgust. They were all marching behind Master Anthony, who walked beside the officer at the head of a wide battle formation of row upon row of soldiers in red. The deep drums were beat loudly, keeping the men marching in time.
DUN, DUN, D-DUN, DUN, DUN, DUN, D-DUN, DUN
. The Rygan banner held high flapped in the breeze.

Down the rise from them and off to the right was an abandoned farmhouse and barn shrouded by a sea of walking dead that covered most of the wide clearing. Among them, roughly in their center, was a line of twenty or so black robed figures carrying gray ashen staffs and sitting atop gnarled horses. When Vincent saw nothing but white bone on their hands and a skull underneath their hoods, he lost a step, his eyes wide.

“
What the…?” Rick voiced without finishing.

Karl was equally taken aback. “What…the hell…is wrong with them?”

Everyone kept silent while they marched, no one having an answer. Stacy was the only one who bothered to respond. “Our seer told us that they were dead, just like the others.” A chill ran up Vincent’s spine.

“But that doesn’t make any sense!” Rick whispered loudly.

“Why are
they
dead?” Karl asked next. “Are these the ones we killed!”

Stacy took a breath, still looking tired. “I doubt it,” she said at last, “not many of their bodies were that intact. As far as I know, this is the first time anyone has even heard of necromancers turning themselves undead. It’s strange to say the least. The only thing I am sure of, is that this makes them more dangerous, not less. Stay alert.” Vincent’s two former guards and the pyromancer Elf eyed them and their conversation with some unease.

When they were several hundred feet away from the edge of the gathered undead, the caped Rygan officer held up his gloved hand. “Halt!” He commanded, still taking a few steps forward himself. The heavy drums finished their last few beats, and Vincent could hear clanking feet and the rustling of chainmail as their army came to an uneven-sounding stop.

The officer looked ready to speak but then waited while one of the black robed figures urged his horse forward one horse-length ahead of the others. Vincent immediately noticed that the rider’s skull had grayish-green skin at the top, and could see blue eyes in the middle of the sockets. It was the only thing Human about the creature and looked somehow familiar…