《The Undead King》


 001

    Fire blasted from Paul¡¯s outstretched hand and struck the skeleton in the chest. The explosive force knocked the skeleton down giving his party¡¯s warrior enough time to crush its skull with his mace. The warrior looked up to see if any of the skeletons remained. One did, but the party¡¯s cleric had easily dispatched it. The cleric¡¯s holy symbol kept the undead at bay long enough for her to destroy them easily.


    Paul looked around; the party had a pretty standard make up. A warrior, a cleric, a rouge, who was standing off to the side, waiting for the others to destroy the enemy, and Paul, the wizard. A party of four was routine enough. He had accepted this mission from the adventurer¡¯s guild board. This group had been looking for a new wizard for an easy mission. Apparently, their last wizard retired.


    It didn¡¯t matter to Paul. He was just looking for some quick and easy money. His magical research had run out of money, now he was getting more. The mission seemed simple enough, clear out some skeletons from a local crypt so the locals can continue to bury their dead without fear.


    So far, they hadn¡¯t seen many skeletons. The ones they did come across were weak. It had been advertised as an easy mission, but Paul wondered why they bothered with it. They could have let some low-level newbies handle this mission, while they took on a harder, and better paying, mission.


    Another skeleton walked around a corner. The cleric raised her holy symbol, paralyzing the skeleton, while warrior smashed its head it with his mace. The rouge, the only nonhuman in the group, was a small halfling, skittish enough it irked Paul a bit. Even this single skeleton was enough to cause the halfling to jump and get clear of any potential fight. Paul rolled his eyes as he stifled a yawn.


    The group continued to walk down the hallway. So far there hadn¡¯t been any splits in the hallway. It had been a long hallway so far. A couple of twists and turns, but nothing special. Paul wondered why the village had been willing to pay so much to clear this place. They clearly had no idea how much money this kind of mission should cost.


    This was going to be Paul¡¯s only mission with this group. He hadn¡¯t even bothered to learn their names, what was the point? Paul tried to keep down another yawn as the group continued to walk on. There was another turn up ahead. Skeletons had no sense of tactics, they just wandered about, or just stood there, so Paul wasn¡¯t worried about an ambush.


    The rouge looked around a bit frightened. Paul wanted to poke her in the back just to see her yelp, maybe even wet herself, but he didn¡¯t. He still needed these people in order to get paid for this job.


    Around the last corner was a door. It did not look like anything special. Probably wasn¡¯t even locked, none the less the fighter asked the rouge to take a look. ¡°Can you check it for traps?¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± the rouge responded. She crept forward as if the door was ready to jump out and attack her.


    Cautious group. Paul wasn¡¯t sure if he found it to be a good thing or not. There was such a thing as too cautious and this group seemed to be it. He would be happy to try his luck with a new group when this mission was over with.


    The rouge did whatever it was that rouges do to doors and chests to check them for traps, then gave the group the okay to enter. The door swung open easily and the fighter cautiously entered, shield up, the cleric followed, slowly, as well. Paul entered last, with the rouge practically shaking in front of him.


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    Inside the room was an ornately decorated alter and a man sitting in, what could only be described as a throne. Slowly the man in the room lifted up his head and looked at the trespassers. For the first time since entering the crypt, Paul froze.


    The man at the other end of the room had on what was once the greatest fashions, but now were torn old and dirty. In his hand was an old goblet that was made of gold with bright emeralds inlaid in it. As he shifted his long black hair shifted out of the way of his glowing red eyes.


    ¡°Well, who do we have here?¡± As he spoke his long fangs flashed clearly. This man was clearly a vampire.


    After a moment of stunned silence, Paul turned to flee, but the door slammed shut, locking them in the room. Dread crept its way into his heart. There was no way they were going to be able to defeat a vampire.


    ¡°We are here to defeat the evil that permeates this place.¡± The cleric declared.


    For once the overly cautious group Paul came with didn¡¯t understand the threat. The barely seemed to even be phased by the vampire. The rouge unslung his bow and drew an arrow as the cleric prepared their holy symbol and the fighter crept forward.


    ¡°Now is not the time for bravado.¡± Paul hisses, ¡°Help me get this door open.¡±


    For a brief moment the rouge looks over, but it is the cleric who speaks again, ¡°Now is not the time to lose faith, now we destroy the root of all this evil.¡±


    ¡°You should listen to your friend.¡± The vampire smirks showing off his fangs with pride.


    The cleric raised her raised her holy symbol and shouted. ¡°Back Demon!¡±


    A bright light flared from the holy symbol. The entire room became so bright Paul had to shield his eyes or go blind. When the brightness was gone, he opened his eyes and to his despair, not only was the vampire unharmed, but his arm was impaling the cleric.


    ¡°Bastard!¡± The fighter growled as he lunged for the vampire.


    With speed Paul could barely comprehend the vampire threw the cleric¡¯s body into the fighter and was already sinking his fangs into the rouges neck. Barely able to move, Paul scanned the room for any other exits; there were none.


    The vampire finished drinking the rouge dry quickly, getting more blood on himself and the floor than he drank. His noble stride was evident as he walked. With little effort he dragged the fighter out from under the cleric and held him aloft.


    ¡°See, you should have listened to you friend.¡± The grin never leaving the vampire¡¯s face.


    ¡°Paul¡­ help¡­¡± The fighter said weakly.


    The vampire looked over at Paul and with a look of disinterest crushed the fighter¡¯s neck. Slowly he turned his body towards Paul. ¡°Your turn, sweet thing.¡±


    Out of sheer terror, Paul cast the fastest spell he knew, burning hands. Before he knew it flames shot from his finger tips and pelted the vampire. The vampire made a gruff noise as he shielded himself from the fire which lit his cloak aflame.


    While the vampire was distracted Paul began casting blazebane, a powerful fire spell designed to kill undead. The resulting blast might hit him, but it was one of the most powerful spells he knew that he could cast fast enough to help. Blazebane was a fire spell imbued with the very fire of the sun.


    While the vampire patted out small embers on his cloak, Paul began casting as fast as he could. Finally, the vampire looked back up at Paul with the same amused grin he had the entire battle. Before the vampire could take another step, Paul cast his spell.


    White jets of searing flame bust from Paul¡¯s hands, streaking through the air at incredible speed striking the vampire in the chest. As the flames made contact with the vampire he burst into a pillar of radiant light. Blue and white flames fought for dominance in a bid for who would be able to kill the vampire the fastest.


    The smell of burning flesh filled the room as heat beats against Paul¡¯s face. Barely able to take his eyes off the spell, he was mesmerized by it. Never having seen the spell actually used on a vampire, he didn¡¯t know what it would look like in actual combat before he used it.


    Slowly the fire began to die away. Paul began to breath a sign of relief. The spell was so efficient the vampire didn¡¯t even have the time to scream. Turning his attention back to the door, Paul gave it a good tug, wondering if he knew a spell to open the door.


    ¡°Well, that was unpleasant.¡± A cool smooth voice uttered from behind him.


    Paul turned and standing there, slightly hunched, was the vampire. Wisps of smoke rose from his now naked body. Eyes wide Paul could only stare, once again, frozen in place. The vampire walked slowly up to Paul and sank his teeth into his neck.


    The world went black.


    ¡°Go ahead and awaken my little spawn.¡± Came the most soothing voice Paul had ever heard.


    Slowly he opened his eyes. Still in the same room as before, Paul looked around. The only thing different about the room, was that the fighter had no clothing on.


    ¡°Over here.¡±


    Paul looked towards the voice and there sat the vampire, in the fighter¡¯s cloths. He instantly knew that this man, this thing, had raised him from the dead. Realization he was now a vampire made him swallow.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± Paul managed.


    ¡°Alaric, the Undead King.¡±

 002

    Hands shaking uncontrollably, Paul knelt over Alaric¡¯s dead body.  The adventurers had come in and killed him, but why?  There didn¡¯t seem to be any rhyme or reason to it.


    No tears came, Paul wasn¡¯t even sure if he were capable of crying.  He reached out and straightened Alaric¡¯s collar and vest.  The older vampire would have hated looking disheveled.


    All the power Alaric seemed to have had didn¡¯t save him from those monsters.  There was no reason to come to their home and kill his master.


    Looking up quickly, Paul sent his senses out.  If the adventurers were still about, they may kill him also.  They might be searching for him now.  There didn¡¯t seem to be any life left in this area of the crypt.


    ¡°We need to go.¡±  Liora said.


    She was a wraith bonded to Paul through magic, Alaric¡¯s magic.  Paul wondered if she were still bonded.  Liora hadn¡¯t left, so she must still be bonded.


    Looking up at her, he resolved to live through this.  She was right, they needed to leave.


    ¡°Alright.¡±  Paul moved to secret door he had used to enter after the adventurers had left.


    The passage led north, where reinforcements awaited.  If the adventures were powerful enough to kill Alaric, the undead hoard they had made wouldn¡¯t be a match for such a powerful group.  The hoard had been waiting right where it had been left.


    Among the mindless undead was a wagon carrying Alaric¡¯s library.  Paul¡¯s own spellbooks were kept with them.


    ¡°Where are we going?¡±  Liora asked as she floated quickly behind Paul.


    ¡°North.  We need to escape into the Deepwoods.¡±


    Paul looked over Alaric¡¯s, no not Alaric¡¯s, but Paul¡¯s horde.  They numbered two-hundred skeletons and one-hundred zombies, made up of the dead humans in the area.  It had taken two years to gather them all, but they managed.


    ¡°No one will be able to find us there, and if they do, we should have time to build up some fortifications to help defend us.  Whoever these people that killed Alaric¡­ what if they come for us?¡±  Paul climbed into the wagon.  He willed the skeleton horses to move north and the hoard followed.


    The horde moved north at what seemed like a crawl.  It made Paul a little nervous.  He kept looking out of the carriage to see if the adventurers were following them.


    Unsure how useful the horde would be in a fight with a group that could kill Alaric, Paul stayed in the middle.  It would be easier to respond to either direction if the adventurers showed up.


    The horde finally made it to the tree line around dawn.  The forces were organized in a way that they couldn¡¯t be seen from outside the forest.


    ¡°Will you keep an eye out while I sleep?¡±  Paul asked Liora.


    The wraith was a translucent purple-black with raven hair down to her waist and pitch-black eyes.  She tilted her head and smiled, ¡°Of course.  Sleep without fear.¡±


    Nodding his thanks Paul pulled the curtains of the carriage closed.  He locked small wooded lattices in place to make sure the curtains didn¡¯t open if it got windy.  With no choice but to trust Liora and his undead horde Paul tried to sleep the day away.


    His rest was fitful and unfulfilling, but it was enough to give him the energy he would need to move on through the night.


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    Leaving the carriage, Paul looked for Liora.  She wasn¡¯t far off, wandering among the zombies.


    ¡°Any sign of the adventurers?¡±


    ¡°Nothing.¡±  Liora said.


    ¡°Do you think they got lost?¡±  Paul started walking towards the tree line.


    ¡°If they are even following us.¡±  Liora drifted at Paul¡¯s side.  ¡°They had all day to come look for us.¡±


    ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t they follow us?¡±


    ¡°They could have gone in the other direction.¡±  Liora shrugged.  ¡°The world is a big place and the crypt had a lot of exits and we could go in any direction after leaving any of them.¡±


    Paul looked out past the trees.  His glowing red eyes searched, but could see nothing, even with his superb night vision.  Running a hand through his short rust colored beard he grunted.


    He sighed, looking up into the canopy above, then back at the horde.


    ¡°We should keep moving, find a defensible place to hold up.¡±  Paul said as he walked back to the carriage.


    ¡°Yes.¡±  Liora said, casting one last glance back, then followed him back into the forest.


    The horde moved on for about an hour before Paul started to get hungry.  Stopping the horde, he left the carriage.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±  Liora asked.


    ¡°Nothing, I¡¯m just hungry and I¡¯m sure the march of three hundred undead isn¡¯t going to scare all the food away.¡±  He forced a grin to show Liora he was fine.


    He felt Alaric¡¯s death affected him more than her.  She never really like him to begin with.  Alaric had used magic to bring her back from the dead as a wraith, then forcibly bind her to an amulet to serve him.  When she didn¡¯t prove to useful, Alaric bound her to Paul, hoping she would be more useful to him.


    Paul sent his senses out to see if anything living was around.  Not being able to sense anything, he made his way north.  Keeping himself aware he slowly left the horde behind.


    After nearly an hour he could make out a goat in the distance.  With unnatural speed Paul pounced on the small goat wrapping his arms around it and sinking his teeth into its neck.


    Blood sprayed into his mouth as he began sucking the blood from the goat.  It tried futilely to escape, but didn¡¯t have the strength to get away from its captor.


    Loud bleating shot out into the woods.  Probably attracting the attention of all the predators nearby.  Paul didn¡¯t mind the noise.  Let competition come.


    With a few last soft baas, the goat died.  Paul made sure to drain it completely before letting it go.


    For a moment he wondered if he should leave the dead goat there to attract predators.  Before he could make his decision, he heard noises coming from further north.


    With practiced stealth, Paul made his way towards the noise.  He could hear voices as well.


    Paul made his way towards the edge of a clearing where he could see a large goblin kicking a smaller one that was lying on the ground.  The larger goblin was yelling, rather loudly, spit flying from his mouth.


    Unable to understand, Paul cast a spell that would let him understand all languages for a couple of hours.


    ¡°Grag, your so useless.¡±  The big goblin said.


    ¡°Sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to let the goat escape.¡±  Grag said pleadingly.  He took another kick.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you hear it?  Something killed it.¡±  The big one growled.


    Paul watched with interest.  A couple of goblins could feed him for a few days if he was careful.


    The bigger goblin continued kicking Grag.  ¡°I should just kill you.  Your worth nothing, useless trash.¡±


    ¡°No.¡±  Grag cried.


    Not wanting to lose a potential meal, Paul rushed from his hiding place with unnatural vampiric speed.  Within a fraction of a second, he had an arm around the big goblin¡¯s neck and hefted him off the ground.  Three seconds later, the big goblin was unconscious.


    Through his bond with the horde, he willed a dozen of them to come to him.  He sent a message to Liora as well that he had caught a big meal that they could keep for later.


    Grag looked up the moment the kicking stopped and had watched Paul render the big goblin unconscious.  The little guy shook like a leaf.  His jaw was agape and the smell of urine made its way to Paul¡¯s nose.


    Paul grinned.  It pleased him that he was more intimidating than death at the hands of another goblin.


    The rustling of leaves and the snapping of twigs and branches marked the approach of the skeletons.  Discretion was not their strong suit.


    Liora floated up faster than them.  She looked at the two goblins with mild interest.  With her approach Grag made to get up and run away, but Paul planted a foot on his chest.


    Grab let out a loud scream.  ¡°Don¡¯t kill me.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s loud.¡±  Liora said.  Only she could make her ethereal voice sound bored and disinterested.  ¡°It is wise to travel with it?  What if it attracts attention?¡±


    ¡°It can be gagged.¡±  Paul said looking down at Grag.


    The skeletons picked up the big goblin and two reached down to pick up Grag.  The little goblin didn¡¯t even try to fight at first.  He began to sob, begging not to be killed.


    ¡°Wait, wait.¡±  Grag said.  ¡°I can show you the village.¡±  He looked up at Paul and Liora.  ¡°Don¡¯t kill me and I will show you where the village it.¡±

 003

    With Grag in the lead the small group made their way to the goblin village.  Paul had left the bigger goblin with the skeletons back with the carriage.  If he woke up while they were gone, Paul was had not doubts he wouldn¡¯t be able to escape the horde.


    ¡°Why do we want a goblin village?¡±  Liora asked.


    ¡°If two goblins would last me two to four days, if I eat sparingly, imagine how long an entire village could feed me.¡±  Paul smirked.


    Grag trembled while walking in front of them.  He slowed a bit and looked back at the two.  ¡°But you¡¯ll spare me though?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Grag I will spare you.¡±  Paul reassured him.  ¡°Just don¡¯t try and warn the village we are here and everything will be fine.¡±


    Once Grag showed them where the village was, Paul and Liora would come up with a plan of attack.  After the plan was made, they would bring the horde down on the goblins.  They would kill those they had to and keep the rest for food.


    While it seemed simple enough, Paul had never encountered goblins before.  Stories he had heard said they were weak and cowardly.  Based on Grag, Paul would think the stories true.


    Even the big goblin had only been three feet tall.  It had been easy for Paul to take it down without having to kill it.  The big ones might bully the smaller ones, but how brave would they be against Paul, Liora, and the horde.


    Paul could hear the noises of activity behind a few trees and shrubs.  He could also make out more goats and chickens.  Grag got them close and Paul peered out at the village.


    It appeared to be a small gathering of goblins.  Grag was unable to count and couldn¡¯t give them the number of goblins in the village, but it was more than the number of fingers and toes he had.  He was ready to name all the ones he could think of, but Paul figured he could just get an idea of how many there wee from observing the village.


    After an hour of observing the village, he decided there was somewhere between twenty-two and twenty-seven, a couple might have been counted twice.  It was hard to tell them apart.  Grag confirmed that other than the big one, Throk, everyone seemed to be in the village.


    Meals seemed to be communal and it looked like they were getting ready to start.  According to Grag the females would take care of the chickens, goats, and some foraging, while the males went out hunting and raiding other villages.  When no0t engaged in any of these activities, the village stayed together to protect against raids against them from other tribes.


    Despite being ¡°ready¡± for a raid, the goblins didn¡¯t have any guards posted or scouts out looking for enemies.  Immediate food was more important than potential later danger.  Grag seemed confused when Paul asked about defenses, which apparently, they had none.


    The village was a collection of seven small buildings.  Three of them were longhouse like structures made to house the goblins when they slept.  One was the chief¡¯s hut.  Throk, being the strongest goblin was chief.


    The other goblin being the strongest made Paul grin.  He was getting more confident that he would easily win by the moment.


    One building was a chicken coop, one building was a pen for goats and the last was a slave pen.  The goblins didn¡¯t have any slaves at the moment, but usually other goblins integrated pretty quickly into their captive tribes and didn¡¯t stay in the pens longer than a month.  Other slaves were usually traded off to the humans that came through the forest every once in a while, to check for slaves.


    The goblins didn¡¯t have a currency of any kind.  The money they did have they collected from the dead bodies of people they killed.  The chief kept all of the valuables, which were usually traded off to the humans for anything the goblins couldn¡¯t make for themselves, or get from raids.  Cheese was apparently a big deal.


    Having seem enough Paul gripped Grag by the shoulder and led the goblin back to the horde.  The walk back didn¡¯t take as long as the walk to the village.  They weren¡¯t that far away.  Paul was surprised the goblins hadn¡¯t heard the horde shambling through the forest.


    ¡°What do you think?¡±  Liora asked.


    Paul snorted and shrugged.  ¡°What is there to think?  They are weak and stupid.¡±


    Grab frowned and blinked a few times at hearing that.


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    ¡°To maximize the number of captives, you should take half the forced to the other side of the village.  I¡¯ll keep half here.  Then once the village is surrounded, we capture everyone that surrenders, try to knock out resistance, and kill the difficult ones.¡±  Paul looked at Throk.  ¡°We could always wait to see if that one will surrender the village.¡±


    ¡°He might give up.¡±  Grag said.  ¡°The others won¡¯t take his word for it though.  Without a show of force, they won¡¯t give up that easily.¡±


    ¡°Why wont they surrender if their leader does?¡±  Paul asked.


    ¡°If Throk surrenders and they don¡¯t see him fight they will think he is just weaker than you.¡±  Grag explained.  ¡°However, if they see you win, they will think you are strong.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the difference?¡±  Liora asked.


    ¡°In one case he is simply weak, in the other I am strong.¡±  Paul answered.  ¡°Simple logic.¡±


    Paul turned and looked at his army.  Three hundred versus less than thirty.  Victory was a given.  They probably wouldn¡¯t even have to kill a lot of the goblins in order to get them to surrender.


    Seeing the horde should be enough.  If seeing the horde wasn¡¯t enough, that was fine also.  Any goblins killed could simply add to the number of undead in the horde.


    With a mental command Paul split the horde into two groups.  Half would go with him and half with Liora.  Three zombies would be left behind to guard Throk.


    Paul cast a weak message spell on him and Grag allowing them to speak with one another over small distances.  ¡°Rember Grag, don¡¯t warn them, or you will join them.¡±


    Grag nodded his understanding.


    ¡°I will have a couple skeletons assigned to protect you.  It might look better if it seemed like you surrendered for now.  Prove yourself and I may do more than simply allow you to live.¡±  Paul grinned as he walked back towards the goblin village.


    Paul waited for Liora to take her half of the horde towards the far side of the village before moving his forces closer.  He didn¡¯t want to make too much noise and give himself away before he had a chance to attack.


    The zombies were put in a row in front of two rows of skeletons.  The zombies were slower, but they were also stronger.  It would be easier for the zombies to punch the goblins, hopefully rendering them unconscious.


    The skeletons were arranged in two rows right behind the zombies.  They were kept in a looser formation than the zombies.  They were weaker, but faster.  The skeletons also had weapons, a few even had swords, though most had crude spears.  The faster skeletons would also be better at chasing down and capturing, or killing, any goblins that got past the front lines.


    It might have been overkill, but better safe than sorry.  The undead lines crashed through the underbrush, announcing their arrival.


    Goblins began screaming and yelling as they ran in circles.  Most seemed confused about what was going on.  There were eight through that went straight for weapons.


    With guttural growls they made their way at the numerically superior undead.  Paul could hardly resist.  With his vampiric speed he ran straight at one of the goblins further from the rest and grabbed it by the throat, lifting into the air.


    With supernatural strength he launched the small creature at two other goblins that were over twenty feet away.  They lay their unmoving, it was unclear if they were alive or not.


    With that the battle seemed to end.  The remaining goblins with weapons simply staired at Paul with open awe.  Others looked at the horde surrounding them and saw the battle was unwinnable.


    Liora came floating towards Paul.  As she went by goblins rushed to get out of her way.


    ¡°What now?¡±  Liora asked.


    ¡°Kneel!¡±  Paul commanded with a wicked grin.


    With minimal resistance the goblins knelt down and before their conquerors.  Paul laughed to himself as he walked over to the three goblins bunched together.  They were dead.  The top one¡¯s body was twisted in awkward angles, but would still work as undead.


    ¡°Come here.¡±  Paul said to the goblins.


    They gathered slowly and cautiously.  Paul counted eighteen.  With Throk he would have nineteen.  That should feed him for some time.


    ¡°You will obey or you will die and serve anyways.¡±


    In full view of all the goblins Paul began casting.  Calling upon his tether to the source, he tugged the mana.  Bringing it to himself, he began to shape the mana into his spell.  A dark inky cloud began to form in front of him, between his arms.


    Paul began forcing the black cloud into the three dead goblins.  A loud sucking noise came from the corpses as the cloud delved in.  Dark mist began floating around the eyes and mouths of the goblins and they began to moan.


    Their limbs twitched wildly, before their backs arched and their mouths opened.  The slow build up of magic ended quickly and the corpses were still.


    After a few moments all three goblins began to rise.  With mental commands Paul had them pick up their weapons and face the still living goblins.


    ¡°You will serve loyally in this life or the next.¡±  Paul said.  ¡°Understand?¡±


    The goblins shook and their eyes shifted back and forth.  As Paul looked over each one, they cast their eyes towards the ground.


    ¡°Good.¡±


    Paul told them that no one was to leave the village until he said otherwise.  Then he commanded his horde to patrol the village and to kill anyone that tried to come or go.


    There were only nineteen goblins, but Paul needed them all to stay fed for a while.  He figured if he was careful, he could probably feed off each goblin twice.  The first feeding would severely weaken them.  The second feeding would kill them.


    Depending on how long it took for the goblins to recover from being fed on, he might be able to get more out of them than that.


    One problem was that there were five goblin children.  Obviously, it would take only one feeding to kill them.


    He promised Grag he wouldn¡¯t eat him.  With how easy the village fell; Paul was wondering if it was even a good deal on his end.


    That left him with roughly thirty feedings, give or take a few.  That would give him enough food for a month.


    He supposed he could go back to hunting animals after that.  It wasn¡¯t a big deal to think about immediately.  He had a month of leeway to consider his next move.


    There was bleating in the distance.  Goats.  Paul would also have however many goats the goblins had.  Things were already looking up.

 004

    Grag looked around the village.  Goblins always lived in fear.  The master¡¯s presence though, brought a fear that Grag had never seen among his kin before.


    After the battle the new master went through all of the village¡¯s belongings to see if there was anything he wanted to keep for himself.  This didn¡¯t upset any of the goblins.  They were used to such things after battles.


    It was the undead that frightened everyone.


    Undead soldiers marched among the buildings monitoring the remaining goblins.  Paul had told them that no one was to leave the village.


    Grag watched as one of the goblins that was raised walked by.  He was unsure about how he should feel about it.


    The other goblins also watched the raised goblins.  Grag could see some of the women with tears in their eyes and runny noses.


    The men however had clenched jaws and fists.  If they still had their weapons, Grag didn¡¯t know if they would attack the living dead to just get rid of the abominations.


    They made Grag¡¯s skin crawl and spine tingle, but he wasn¡¯t going to do anything about them.  He knew if he tried, he would die, then be raised along with them.  The others must have known also, because they just watched.


    Some of the others looked over at Grag.  Some had angry accusing eyes and some had fear.  It was the master¡¯s fault.  He had praised Grag publicly before going into Throk¡¯s hut.


    Grag looked away and kept his head down as he made his way to Throk¡¯s hut.


    The hut¡¯s entrance had six skeletons stationed around it.  They were all equipped with spears.


    Grag could feel them looking at him, even though they hadn¡¯t moved.  He looked away from their empty skells.


    ¡°Master?¡±  He called out.


    Grag tried to peer inside the hut.


    ¡°Master, it¡¯s Grag?¡±  He called out again.


    ¡°Enter.¡±  Came a voice from inside.


    Keeping his head down he quickly made his way past the guards.


    Once inside Grag was unsure if he should feel any better.  Two zombies were in the back of the hut placing a rather large looking chair down.


    The master stood tall, his long orange-reddish hair was tied back into a pony tail that went down between his shoulder blades.  He had a short beard of the same color.  The color of his hair and beard contrasted sharply with his pale white skin with blue veins making a web across his flesh.  When the master turned his red glowing eyes on Grag, he was without a doubt his new master was one a demon.


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    Grag swallowed and shifted under the master¡¯s gaze.


    ¡°Uh, Liora said you wanted to talk to me.¡±  Grag said.


    ¡°Yes.  I¡¯ve decided I like that we came to our deal.¡±  The master said.  ¡°From now on you will act as my representative to the goblins in the village.  You will keep them in line and decide who is to be my meal and when.¡±


    Grag¡¯s breath sped up a bid and he felt a little light headed.  ¡°What will you do when you run out of goblins to eat?¡±


    The master snorted.  ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I won¡¯t eat you.¡±  He looked back at the zombies.  ¡°Leave it there.¡±


    The zombie put the chair down.  ¡°Leave.¡±


    As the zombies left the master sat in his chair.  He sat comfortably in the chair and leaned onto one arm.  ¡°As for the others.  I figure I can make them last a month.  So, I have a month to figure out what to do next.¡±  He tilted his head a bit.  ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I will bring you with me.  Can¡¯t leave you alone and weak in the forest.¡±


    Grag had no doubt he was now a slave to the master.  He was also sure the master thought Grab was honored to be his slave.


    He wouldn¡¯t complain to the master about it.  Doing so might get him killed.  He was also sure that being the master¡¯s slave was better than being one of his meals.


    ¡°Go.¡±  The master waved him off.  ¡°I have eaten tonight, but I will be hungry again tomorrow.  Have my meal ready.  There are ten skeletons outside and to the left if you need them to act as your muscle.¡±


    Grab nodded his understanding and quickly left Throk¡¯s, no, the master¡¯s, hut.


    Once outside he found the skeletons the master had spoken of.  He gave them a couple of test commands.  They obeyed him quickly.  He was surprised with how easy it was.


    Grag made his way to the longhouse to sleep.  At the entrance Throk got in his way.


    ¡°You¡¯re not allowed to be here.¡±  Throk snarled.


    ¡°Why not?¡±  Grag asked.  ¡°I have slept here my entire life.¡±


    Others gathered around.  Grag was starting to feel a little claustrophobic with the crowd getting so large.


    ¡°I told you before.  You are useless and the village is better without you.¡±  Throk bumped his chest into Grag.  ¡°That thing being here changes nothing.  Plus, there are rumors its only here because of you.¡±


    Some of the others started to whisper about what they thought about Grag and his connection to the master.


    ¡°I¡¯m tired and going to be.¡±  Grag said through gritted teeth.


    ¡°Over my dead body.¡±  Throk shoved Grag hard enough to knock him over.  ¡°You too weak to be one of us.¡±


    Grag glared at Throk.  He got up and wanted to hit Throk back, but he knew he would lose that fight.  The anger left him with a giant sigh and he turned to leave.  Head down and shoulders slunched he trudged away.


    Something slime smacked Grag in the back.  He turned to see the others laughing at him as Throk held a wad of mud in his hand.  He threw another handful and it hit Grag in the face.


    Snickers and laughter filled the air.  Grag had thought they were as crestfallen as he was that the master was here, but apparently not.


    Trying not to cry, Grag moved away from the longhouse with a little more speed.


    ¡°Don¡¯t come back.¡±  Throk said.


    Grag made it to the chicken coop before sitting down.  He pounded his fists into the ground as he held back a scream.  He wouldn¡¯t let Throk win by hearing him break down.


    Taking a deep breath, Grag put his head on his knees.  He could he loud crunching and was afraid some of the others had followed him.  Looking up, he saw it was simply a zombie patrol.


    A smile crossed his lips as he started to laugh himself.


    He knew there were those he didn¡¯t want the master to eat, but now he knew who would be first.

 005

    At dusk, Grag walked confidently up to the longhouse.  Behind him were his twenty strong skeleton guard.


    He didn¡¯t think that the others would fight to protect Throk, but he didn¡¯t want to go in with too little, just in case.


    When Grag reached the longhouse he sent four of the skeletons in before him.  Once inside a few of the goblins gasped in surprise.  One even screeched.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡±  Throk growled.


    ¡°That one.¡±  Grag pointed to Throk.


    Without hesitation the four skeletons walked forward and grabbed Throk.  Now wide awake he struggled against their hold.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡±  Throk tried to whip his body free of the skeletons.  ¡°Let go of me.¡±


    ¡°The master is hungry.¡±  Grag said with a sinister grin on his face.  ¡°I told him you would join him for breakfast.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t feed me to that thing.¡±  Throk¡¯s eyes were wide and there was a bit of spit coming out of his mouth.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±  Grag told the skeletons.


    Again, without hesitation they obeyed his commands.  Grag walked out behind the skeletons with a small skip in his step.


    Throk cursed at the skeletons the entire way to the master¡¯s hut.  Grag liked watching him struggle.  Served him right for the way he treated Grag.


    The sun went down and no one came out.  Grag had expected the master to appear immediately and kill Throk.  It wasn¡¯t what he expected, but the wait make Throk struggle more, so it was worth it.


    After about an hour, the master came out of the hut.  He looked down at Throk.  Throk froze in place and stopped cursing at the skeletons.


    The masters glowing red eyes seemed to have nailed Throk in place.  Grag smiled.


    ¡°Bring him inside.¡±  The master said.


    ¡°No, wait.¡±  Throk started to thrash back and forth.  ¡°I won¡¯t hurt you any more Grag.  Don¡¯t let him eat me.¡±


    Grag gave Throk a small wave.  ¡°The master needs to feed.¡±


    Grag could hear Throk screaming.  He had a skip to his step as he walked back towards the longhouse.  Everyone looked at him with fear once he got back.


    Puffing up his chest, Grag looked down his nose at everyone there.  ¡°The master will need to feed at least once a day.¡±  He looked around at the huddling bodies around him.  ¡°I have been given the responsibility of who the master will feed on each day.¡±


    The others huddled away from Grag.  Their response made him smile.  He had never felt more powerful in his life.


    ¡°I¡¯m getting hungry and thirsty.¡±  Grag said to no one in particular.


    Several of the women quickly got up and went to get him food and drink.  Grag relaxed as his foods was being cooked and drank his water.


    An older goblin with greyish fur and dull yellow eyes walked up to Grag as he lounged on one of the beds in the back.  The goblin was the shaman Krelgr.  He had never been particularly mean to Grag, but he wasn¡¯t nice either.  It was more like Grag didn¡¯t exist to Krelgr.


    ¡°What?¡±  Grag asked the old shaman.


    ¡°We are low on water and need to some of the women to the river to get more.¡±  Krelgr said.


    Grag scrunched his brow.  The master had said no one was to leave the village.  He womndered if this was one of the reasons.


    ¡°So?¡±  Grag said.


    ¡°Can you ask¡­ the master if we can get more?¡±


    The master was currently eating.  Or so Grag thought.  How long does it take for a demon to eat a goblin?  Grag looked away from Krelgr.


    He didn¡¯t want to ask the master.  Mostly he didn¡¯t want to attract his attention.  Experience had taught Grag that the attention of the powerful wasn¡¯t something you wanted.


    They did need water though.  Not just for them, but for the goats also.


    Was this to be expected from him from now on?  Was it his job to go talk to the master when things were needed?


    Swallowing, Grag got up.  ¡°I¡¯ll go see if the master will send some of the women to get water.¡±


    Grag made his way back to the master¡¯s hut.  He could no longer hear Throk screaming.  For a moment he wondered if Throk was alive and whether or not Grag cared.


    The undead standing outside hadn¡¯t moved.  Grag wondered if he was allowed to just enter the hut.  Eventually, he decided to just call out.


    ¡°Master?¡±  Grag didn¡¯t yell as loud as he could.  He didn¡¯t want to seem like he was demanding to be seen.


    After a few moments the skeleton guards moved out of the way of the door.


    Upon entering the hut Grag¡¯s attention was immediately drawn to the new shrine next to the master¡¯s throne.  The shrine sat dimly next to the throne, shrouded in shadows.  At the center of the small stone alter was a black bowl with intricate symbols carved into it.


    Inside the bowl, crimson liquid swirled hypnotically, the rich metallic scent permeated the air.


    Floating elegantly above the bowl were two magical orbs of flickering fire, each emitting an eerie, pale blue glow.  The danced and shimmered, casting dancing shadows on the shrine¡¯s surroundings, adding to an otherworldly atmosphere.


    Around the base of the alter, dark purple and black candles burned silently, their flickering flames adding to the shrine¡¯s mystical ambiance.  Occasionally, shadows seemed to twist and move response to the flames.


    A beautiful tapestry adorned the wall behind the shrine.  On it was a human looking woman with pale while skin and black raven almost purple hair.  Her graceful figure seemed to be emerging from darkness, her pale skin reflecting the moonlight.


    Her eyes were an enchanting deep purple.  They seemed to gaze into Grag¡¯s soul.  He shivered.


    Grag had no idea where his master had gotten all of the things to make this shrine, but he had, and quickly too.  The shrines to their own god Zugnorak, was simply a pile of rocks in the woods.


    ¡°Shiiraviia, goddess of the undead and the night.¡±  The master said, noting where Grag was looking.


    Grag looked at the master, his piercing eyes locked on the small goblin.  ¡°Zugnorak is the god of the goblins.¡±  He said.  ¡°He teaches us to make war and makes slaves of our enemies.  He is married to Aruai, goddess of the forest, they gave birth to all the spirits.¡±


    ¡°Is that so?¡±  The master asked.


    Grag swallowed, ¡°Zugnorak teaches us to battle in groups, to form hordes, to take out enemies in numbers¡­¡±


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    ¡°Grag?¡±  The master asked smoothly.


    ¡°Yes master?¡±  Grag almost yipped.


    ¡°Did you really come here to have theological debates?¡±


    ¡°Uh, what?¡±


    ¡°To fight about whose god is better?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±  Grag looked around.  He could see Throk laying on the ground in the corner, slowly breathing.  ¡°We are running low on water.  Krelgr wants to know if we can send some women to the river to get water.¡±


    The master tilted his head slightly as he kept his eyes locked onto Grag.   The predatory stare made Grag uncomfortable.  He felt like he was like Throk, just another meal, just waiting to be eaten.


    After a long, painful pause, the master spoke.  ¡°Show me this river.¡±


    The river was a was a ten-minute walk to the west of the village.  The master followed Grag quietly.  Not even his footsteps made noise.  The unnatural quietness was eerie.


    The tree line was about twenty feet back from the edge of the river.  The back was made up of slimy rocks that would be covered up when the snows melted.  The river itself was twice as wide as the bank and was shallow enough in some areas to see the rocks below and deep enough to dive into without fear of hitting the bottom.


    The master looked at the water with curiosity.  Grag couldn¡¯t make out the look on his face exactly, but it was as if he were asking himself a thousand questions and didn¡¯t know which to try and answer first.


    Finally, he walked close to the water, now with a look of trepidation.  Careful to not actually touch the water the master waved a hand over the river.


    Nothing happened.


    Then he waved his hand several more times, leaning a little further over each time, but careful not to actually not touch the water each time.  After several times he stopped.


    Shaking his hands loose, the master kicked a foot out over the water.  It was the strangest display Grag had ever seen.


    The mastered paused.  Doing nothing for several long moments.  Grag was tempted to ask him if anything was wrong, but at the same time didn¡¯t want to draw unwanted attention to himself.


    The master eventually dipped his boot in the water and withdrew it so quickly Grag thought it might have hurt.  Grag took a step closer to see if anything was is the water.  Then the master dipped his boot in the water again and withdrew it again.


    Grag was starting to think there must be something mentally wrong with his master.


    Water spayed everywhere as the master stomped a foot into the river.  He closed his eyes tight and looked away from the water as is expecting something horrible to happen.


    When nothing happened after a few moments Grag crept a little close and the master opened his eyes and looked at his foot as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world.


    The master took another step into the river and chuckled a bit.  Then walked further into the river.  When he got half way across, he looked back at Grag with the biggest grin on his face.


    ¡°Tell the women they can come gather water, but if they try and escape, I will hunt and kill them, painfully.¡±  The master walked back the shore.


    When Grag got back to the village he let Krelgr know that it was okay for some of the women to go to the river to get water.


    After leaving Krelgr to let the women know they could go get water Grag was headed to the longhouse to sleep.  It had been a long night and he wanted to sleep.


    ¡°Hello, Grag.¡±  A soft voice called out.


    Grag turned to see Pasxi.  She was the most beautiful goblin in the entire village.  Instead of the dull yellow eyes everyone else had she had bright golden eyes.  Her eyes were so large you could barely see the whites of her eyes.  Her fur also had a bright red stripe from her nose over her head and down between her shoulder blades.


    Pasxi was also just a bit shorter than Grag.  It made him feel better that there were some goblins shorter than him.  However, she was also Throk¡¯s woman.  She would never talk to a weakling like Grag, unless she had to give him orders to get or gather something, which she never did.  She mostly kept to herself, a small group of other women, Throk, and Krelgr.


    ¡°Hello P-p-pasxi.¡±  Grag stuttered.


    She flashed him a wide smile.  ¡°What are you doing?¡±


    ¡°I was going to get¡­ Uh¡­ Nothing.  What are you doing?¡±  Grag swallowed hard and got a little dizzy.


    If Pasxi weren¡¯t watching, he would have slammed his head into something.


    ¡°Just getting ready to get water.  Did you want to help me?¡±  She asked sweetly.


    ¡°Yes!¡±  Grag said louder than he had meant to.  ¡°Yes, yes I will help you.¡±  He said in a more normal voice.


    As Grag helped Pasxi get water, they chatted a bit.  She asked a lot of questions about Paul and his plans.  When Grag admitted he didn¡¯t know much, but what he did know seemed to scare her.  When Grag told her Paul had put him in charge of the other goblins and let him choose who would be eaten in which order, her ears perked up.


    When they were putting the last of the water into the barrels she asked, ¡°Do you want to bunk together?¡±


    A wide smile made its way across his face and his eyes brightened a bit, ¡°Yeah.¡±


    When Grag woke up the next morning Pasxi wasn¡¯t in the bed with him.  He looked around and saw her near the entrance with Krelgr.  They were both standing there looking at something.


    Getting up to go take a look, Grag made his way to the two of them.  Outside, no more than twenty feet away, was a zombie Throk.  Marching along with the other undead, he paid them no mind.


    Krelgr looked at Grag.  ¡°Maybe you can take another message to the master, Grag?¡±


    ¡°Are we out of something else?¡±  He asked absently, watching zombie Throk.


    ¡°No.¡±  Krelgr said.  ¡°There is another village a little west of here.  If you follow the river, it will be on this side.¡±


    Grag knew of the village.  Back in their heyday, Grag¡¯s village used to have a lot of goblins in it.  Now it didn¡¯t.  After loosing several battles most of their members were slaves of other villages by now.


    It was only a matter of time before they were all taken or killed.  The other village though.  They still had a lot of goblins.  They had raided Grag¡¯s village a lot.  It was thought that they would be the ones to eventually take them all.


    ¡°Yes?¡±  Grag said.


    ¡°Tell the master about it.¡±  Parxi said.  ¡°If he takes that village, he won¡¯t need to eat us.  He could eat them.¡±


    ¡°There are more of them.  More of them means more food.¡±  Krelgr said.  ¡°Tell him, we will help him control them.¡±  The old shaman looked over to the master¡¯s hut.  ¡°We can help him like you do.¡±


    Grag was unsure.  He didn¡¯t want to disturb the master over things he might consider trivial.  Plus, there was no guarantee that the master would go for it.  What if he got mad at Grag for being stupid?


    The reluctance must have been clear on his face, because Pasxi said, ¡°Please Grag.  I don¡¯t want to be eaten.¡±


    Once again, Grag swallowed, shivering slightly he made his way back to the master¡¯s hut.  Like before, skeleton guards protected the entrance.


    ¡°Master.¡±  He called out softly.  Half hoping the master wouldn¡¯t hear him and he¡¯d have an excuse to just leave.


    He didn¡¯t like presenting this idea.


    ¡°Hello Grag.¡±  An eerie female voice came from behind.


    Grag yelped loudly as he turned.  Behind him floated the spirit Liora.  Her gown and hair floated as if in water.  Looking up at her Grag thought he might piddle his pants.  For some reason she was even more frightening than the master.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been a little needy.  Do you want us to revoke your special status?¡±  Liora asked smoothly.


    ¡°N-n-no.  I, uh, well we, uh.¡±  Grag could barely make sense of his thoughts.  He caught a glimpse of Pasxi.  ¡°There is a much larger village that way.¡±  He pointed west.


    Liora¡¯s eyes followed where he pointed.  ¡°And?¡±


    Grag¡¯s mind went blank for a minute.  Then he remembered what Krelgr said.  ¡°More goblins means more food.¡±


    ¡°More food?  Or different food?¡±  The master¡¯s voice came from behind.


    Grag spun around and there was the master.  He was looking over Grag.  Looking over his should, Grag could see he was looking at Pasxi and Krelgr.


    ¡°Krelgr said the other goblins would help you control the new village.¡±  Grag said.


    ¡°And why would we bother going their now instead of later.  Your villages don¡¯t seem to be very large?¡±  Liora said.


    ¡°No.¡±  Grag said quickly.  ¡°There are many more goblins.  Many, many more.  More than we have.  Like as many zombies as you have many.  Krelgr says that the goblins of our village will serve loyally and help keep the new village in line.¡±


    ¡°More goblins would make us more foods secure.¡±  Liora said.


    ¡°If there are enough, the rest of the village could take care of the weak ones while they recover for a second feeding.¡±  The master said.  ¡°Okay, Grag.  Where is this village?¡±


    ¡°That way.¡±  Grag pointed west.


    ¡°Do you know specifically?¡±  The master asked.


    ¡°Yes.¡±  Grag answered.


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we leave him here?¡±  Liora said.  ¡°He seems loyal enough and will help keep the others in line while we are gone.¡±


    ¡°Your right.¡±  The master said.  ¡°Grag go find another who knows where the village is.¡±


    Grag ran back to Krelgr and relayed what he needed.  Krelgr gave him the name of one of the old warriors.  Krelgr and Grag left to go get him from the edge of village and brought him back to the master.


    ¡°This is Shrem.¡±  Grag said.  ¡°He knows the way.¡±


    Shrem gave a goblin salute.  ¡°The village isn¡¯t more than a few hours that way.  If we go fast, it should be too long.  We used to raid them all the time.¡±


    The master, Liora, and Shrem left the village almost immediately.  They told Grag to keep order while they were gone.


    ¡°Maybe we should try to run away while they are gone.¡±  Pasxi said.


    ¡°No.¡±  Grag said.  ¡°If we try to leave the skeletons will kill us.¡±


    ¡°Even then, it is better for us to align with the master.¡±  Krelgr said.  ¡°He may not know it now, but I have seen his look in the eyes of many of young goblins.  He wants power.  He will try and conquer the forest soon enough.  If we leave now, we will forever be his enemies.  His next meal.  No, it is better to help him now and be his trusted group.¡±


    Pasxi didn¡¯t seem to like it, but she didn¡¯t bring up leaving again.  After several hours the trio returned.


    ¡°There are one-hundred-fifty-one goblins in the other village.¡±  The master smiled.  ¡°Even if more than half die in combat, we will still have enough to feed for some time.  I¡¯ll leave thirty skeletons here to help keep everything in order while we are gone.  The rest will come with us.  Noone leaves the village while we are gone.  Is that understood?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±  Grag and Krelgr responded together.

 006

    The goblins in the village were getting back from a hunting party and were celebrating the kill of two boars they were going to eat along with whatever domestic animals they planned on slaughtering.  Other than the twelve goblins that still had short spears and slings, Paul couldn¡¯t tell who was or wasn¡¯t a warrior among them.  He knew who the chief was from the last time.


    The chief was surrounded by several sycophants, warriors and women alike, all vying for his attention.  From what Paul could make out, it was the chief who killed one of the boars.


    Liora had taken a third of their forces to the other side of the village this time.  It was going to be her mission to capture as many of the fleeing noncombatants as possible.  Unlike the last village this one had one-hundred-fifty-one members.


    Paul would have to be much more careful about this battle.


    He had his troops arranged in two battle lines, group a and group b.  Each had zombies arranged in the from lines as shock troops with skeleton spearmen in the back.  Some of the zombies had shields, but most didn¡¯t.  He even equipped twenty-two of them with the clubs and spears taken from the first village.


    There were six longhouses, each about twenty feet deep and ten feet wide.  They were haphazardly placed around a central fire pit in a circle.  Probably placed that was to funnel attackers down into the center.


    The chief¡¯s hut was placed on the western side of the of the fire, tightening the gap on that side.  Along that side as well were two goat pens thirty feet by thirty feet, filled pretty well with goats.


    The slave pen was to the northeast and had seven occupants.  Two males, three females, and two children, all goblins.  The slaves plus the over abundance of goats means the tribe must had been raiding recently and had come back with some goodies.


    Paul would be attacking from the south and Liora would be hitting them from the north as goblins funneled north away from the fighting.


    Once Liora was in place Paul pulled mana into himself from his tethers.  The fist mana he pulled was from the darkness tether.  Bringing into himself the dark mana from the source.  He combined the darkness with earth and began to draw earth mana into himself at the same time.  Gathering the mana, he began casting a spell on his troops, empowering their necromantic energies making them stronger for the battle to come.


    Purple and black fire began to burn in their eyes and a dark mist seemed to emanate from their joints.  A symbol of Paul¡¯s magic coursing through them.


    Once the spell was cast, he began gathering more mana.  This time from his fire tether.  He tugged the mana from the source through his tether making it into flames inside himself.  This time though, even when he had enough mana to cast his spell, he continued to gather more.


    Gathering mana could be a time-consuming process if you weren¡¯t properly attuned to the tether, you were using and would be difficult to use during the battle unless he was shielded by his troops, but even then, things would change on the battlefield, who knew if he would still need the spell, he wanted by the time he had the mana to cast it.  Since becoming undead, he could still use his fire tether, but it was weakened and his darkness tether was so much more powerful it was daunting.


    Once Paul gathered enough mana, he began casting again.  This time he shaped his fire mana into a large ball of fire he launched a massive fireball at the chief and his gathered sycophants.  Screams filled the air as the fireball smashed into the group.  The fireball killed seven goblins immediately and caught several others on fire as the ball splashed in every direction.


    Quickly Paul began casting a second fireball.  This time he launched it at a large group of goblins gathered to the left of the firepit.  The fireball hit and killed twelve goblins immediately catching around twenty others on fire.


    Paul wasn¡¯t sure if he killed any warriors with his second volley, but he killed plenty of goblins that hopefully it damaged moral as badly as if he had killed only warriors.


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    Some of the goblins seemed to know what to do when on fire and rolled on the ground trying to put out the flames, while other ran around wildly, even catching two of the longhouses on fire.  As the buildings began to burn, other goblins ran out of them.


    Fourteen goblins immediately grabbed their spears and began charging where the fireballs had come from.  Paul commanded group a to move up, positioning itself between a couple of the building, ready to intercept any goblins that made their way around the buildings.


    Group b, also moved forward, but not to close.  The longhouse to their right had been lit on fire and was starting to burn.


    The goblin came rushing from between the building and began attacking the wall of zombies with wild abandon.  As the zombies help the ling and took swipes at the goblins, or attempted to grapple them, the spear wielding skeletons from the back row began poking at them from the back ranks.


    More goblins began to make their way towards group b.  They made their way between the building set on fire and the building next to it.  They surged forward right into the waiting arms of the zombie line of group b.


    Melee broke out of both ends.  As Paul¡¯s troops fought the growing goblin numbers, Liora¡¯s troops made their way out of the forest.


    Ten goblins engaged in battle with Paul¡¯s troops perished quickly causing three to break off and flee.  As they fled towards the other end of the village, they were confronted with Liora¡¯s troops.  Forced to engage the smaller army the slightly wounded troops were killed easily.


    Liora¡¯s forced began quickly capturing the women and children who tried to flee themselves.


    An enemy shaman appeared from between two of the buildings and began casting healing spells on his warriors.  Those that were ready to flee began gathering around the old shaman.  He must have had a powerful earth tether to be able to cast healing spells so quickly.


    From the back ranks, Paul began pulling from his air tether.  It was not as powerful as his darkness tether, but was still strong.


    The battle wasn¡¯t turning in the goblins favor by any means, but they began putting up an even more staunch fight with the shaman¡¯s appearance.  Now they seemed less likely to surrender, which defeated the purpose of the battle.


    After Paul had gathered enough mana, he maneuvered so that none of his troops were between him and the shaman.  Lifting his hand above his head, a giant bolt of lightning ripped from his hand and struck the shaman in the chest, hitting several goblins along the way.


    Goblins screamed and began running in every direction.  The ones fighting the zombies and skeletons directly threw down their weapons and surrendered immediately.


    The awesome display of magic on the battlefield sapped the last of their moral.


    Liora and Paul gathered the last of the goblins in the middles of the village.  Paul had his troops gather the dead and bring them into the village center.


    While they did that Paul did a quick count of his remaining troops.  He had lost twenty-two zombies and four skeletons.  Unfortunate losses, but with the appearance of the shaman, it couldn¡¯t be helped.


    He managed to kill sixty-one goblins and captured eighty-five, with the rest escaping into the woods.  He had also pressed the seven slaves into his service.  Ninety-two new bodies weren¡¯t bad.


    On the positive side he managed to kill more goblins than troops he lost.


    Once the dead had been gathered Paul looked at the remaining goblins.


    ¡°You are now mine.¡±  He said in a loud voice, careful all could hear him.  ¡°You will do as your told, or you will die.¡±


    While speaking Paul had gathered the dark mana necessary to raise the fallen goblin from the dead.  Unlike the three goblin he raised as zombies from the last village, this time he diversified.  Casting his magic, he raised thirty-one zombies and thirty skeletons, bringing his numbers to one-hundred-twelve zombies and two-hundred-twenty-six skeletons.


    ¡°I am Paul Alaricson.  You will serve me loyally in this life or the next, but you will be loyal.  Do you understand?¡±


    Most of goblins nodded weakly, eyes locked on their undead comrades.  It was clear they were terrified of Paul and his power.


    ¡°This is Liora Starfrost my lieutenant.  You will listen to her words as if they were my own.¡±  Paul pointed at Liora, who floated next to him wordlessly.


    Paul looked around.  Except for the two buildings that burned to the ground the village was still intact.  There were still four longhouses.  It would be much trouble to rebuild the two that burned down, plus an extra one for his original goblin forces.


    Until then the new goblins could sleep outside.  The nights weren¡¯t cold and it hadn¡¯t done more than sprinkle since he had arrived.


    ¡°Liora.  Go get the other goblins.  We will set up here.¡±  Paul said.


    ¡°Of course.¡±  She said and made her way back to the original village.


    ¡°What is this village called?¡±  Paul asked no one in particular.


    ¡°Goblins don¡¯t name their villages.¡±  An older goblin said.


    Well, that was no good.  Paul would need to eventually expand again.  He would need more food and more servants.  More servants and goblins meant more villages.  It would get confusing if none of them had names to separate them from one another.


    ¡°This village is now called¡­¡±  Paul thought about it for a moment.  ¡°Gravewell.¡±

 007

    Liora¡¯s POV


    It was hard to remember who she was sometimes.  Things would get fuzzy.  The world would blend together into a pool of colors and sounds.


    The world had been like that since Alaric returned her to a semblance of life.  She hated it.


    In life Liora had been a young and beautiful elf.  For her time, she was knowledgeable in magic and pretty good at wielding it.  Now she knew less than her contemporaries, but still had some strength.


    It was hard to keep up on the knowledge front.  She had no hands to flip the pages of the books she would have to read.  She had tried to use skeletons before, but they didn¡¯t have the dexterity to flip a single page.


    ¡°You have done good Grag.¡±  Paul said to the shaking little creature.  ¡°This new village is a much better fit for my new plans.¡±


    Plans?  What plans?


    ¡°What plans master?¡±  Grag asked, as if to voice Liora¡¯s own question.


    ¡°I¡¯ve decided I have a taste for combat and acting the general.¡±  Paul leaned back in his ¡®throne¡¯.  ¡°This village shall be the first step in a larger conquest of the Deepwood.  I have plans and a need for an army.  The goblins and other denizens of the Deepwood will serve perfectly for those ends.¡±


    This was new.  Liora wondered if fear of the adventurers had anything to do with the need for an army.  It would explain the new direction Paul wanted to go in.


    She wondered why Paul hadn¡¯t discussed it with her.  She didn¡¯t care either way, she had to go where Paul went anyways.  It would have been nice to be consulted, though.


    She could feel the bond with Paul pulse.  It never left her.  It allowed Liora to sense Paul and his location at all times.


    Alaric had at first planned to bond her to himself, but she couldn¡¯t leave the crypt without help, which made her useless to their old master.


    Now that she was bonded to Paul she could go places, but she couldn¡¯t go more than a couple miles from Paul.  He could also force her to do things.  Forcing her to do anything would have soured their relationship, so it had never happened.


    Paul needed a lieutenant he could trust.  If he had forced her to do things, trust would be shattered and she would be useless to him.  A liability even.


    ¡°How are you going to make an army?¡±  Grag asked.


    ¡°I will gain the use the goblins of the Deepwood.  The only problem I can foresee is the question of loyalty.¡±  Paul said dismissively.


    ¡°Loyalty?¡±  Grag scrunched his brow.


    ¡°That is where you come in Grag.¡±  Paul sat forward.  ¡°You will act as my representative to the goblins.  You will help convince them that working for me is better than the alternative.¡±


    ¡°Me?¡±  Grag shivered.  ¡°Master I am considered weak.  They won¡¯t want to listen to me.¡±


    ¡°Then I shall give you strength.  We will rearm the five goblin warriors left from your village.  They, and you, will act as examples of how good life can be under my leadership.  You will be my freemen.  The others are slaves.


    ¡°The others will want to be freemen, like you.  You will be treated better and given better things.  The slaves will sleep in dingy and packed quarters, they will eat your leftovers, and most importantly, they will be my food.¡±


    Paul leaned back again.


    Liora had to give him credit, he definitely seemed to have thought about what he wanted and how he was going to achieve it.  She was genuinely curious on whether it would work or not.


    ¡°How will we keep the other goblins in line master?¡±  Grag asked.  ¡°Me and the other goblins from the village doesn¡¯t seem like enough to keep everyone in line.¡±


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    ¡°Each of the five rearmed goblins will be put in charge of five more skeletons to help them maintain order.  You will be given ten.¡±  Paul said.  ¡°Other than that, skeletons and zombies will patrol the streets putting down any attempts at disobedience.¡±


    ¡°Are the skeletons and zombies smart enough to know what disobedience looks like, master?¡±


    ¡°The goblins from your village will be able to tell them when disobedience is happening.¡±  Paul said.  ¡°They won¡¯t be able to command them in the same way as the soldiers, but telling the undead something is wrong should be fine.¡±


    Liora now wondered how Paul actual planned on implementing these things.  It seemed strange to her that random goblins could cause the skeletons to attack other goblins.  What if one goblin simply didn¡¯t like another?  This seemed like a system ripe for corruption.


    Kreglr walked in before Liora could voice her concerns.


    He was an older goblin with greying fur and dull yellow eyes.  He seemed to walk fine enough on his own.  Liora wondered how old he was.  She wondered if she should ask.


    ¡°Kreglr.¡±  Paul acknowledged the shaman¡¯s presence.


    ¡°Master.¡±  Krelgr responded in kind.


    Calling Paul master was a new habit of the goblins.  A habit Paul seemed fine with.  It made Liora smile.


    ¡°Can you count Krelgr?¡±  Paul asked.


    ¡°Yes master.¡±


    ¡°Good.  You will teach Grag his numbers.  I grow tired of him not knowing them.¡±


    ¡°Sorry master.¡±  Grag said lowering his head.


    Paul waved a hand dismissively.  ¡°Learn quickly or you¡¯ll be replaced.  Krelgr you¡¯ll start teaching the tenets of Shiiraviia.  You¡¯ll meet with me each day and I will teach you the ways of the goddess.¡±


    Krelgr made a pained expression.  ¡°Master, our people have gods.¡±


    ¡°And Shiiraviia will be among them from now on.¡±  Paul said.  ¡°I will also teach you my language and you will teach it to the others.  I grow tired of having to renew my language spell two to three times a day, just to talk to you all.¡±


    ¡°Master¡­¡±  Krelgr paused as if trying to come up with a way to say what he wanted without offending Paul.  ¡°Some goblins may find it hard to learn your language.¡±


    Paul leaned forward and pointed an accusing finger at Krelgr.  ¡°If goblins are too stupid to speak two languages, then they won¡¯t speak goblin.  If your adult goblin can¡¯t learn, start with the young.  I have time.¡±


    Krelgr flinched under Paul¡¯s gaze.  He visible shrank, trying to make himself too small to notice.  His discomfort made Liora smile.  She took little pleasure from her unlife, she had to relish it when it came.


    ¡°We will also have the burned down structures rebuilt.¡±  Paul said.  ¡°How long does it usually take goblins to construct such things as longhouses and your crude huts?¡±


    Krelgr shifted a little.  ¡°It would take our people a few weeks to make a longhouse, master.¡±  He looked away.  ¡°Many of the goblins don¡¯t like the work, they are more likely to just wait until we captured slaves of other races to build it for us.¡±


    Paul barked a laugh.  ¡°Too bad for them then.  By my reconning, we have around fifty goblin slaves who can work on the long houses.  The freedmen get first choice of housing.  The rest can sleep outside until the huts and longhouses are done.¡±


    ¡°But master, they will need a lot of oversight.  Many will just be lazy¡­¡±


    Whatever Kreglr was going to say got cut off as Paul roared.  ¡°Then watch them closely!  It is what the undead are for, muscle.¡±


    Liora was quickly becoming bored with this line of dialog and turned, making her way out of the hut.  The night¡¯s sky was barely visible through the canopy of trees.


    The surroundings were a stark contrast to the once vibrant Deepwood she remembered. Now it felt more like a necropolis, with undead creatures patrolling the streets and goblins scurrying about in fear or submission. She wondered how the goblin society, with its new hierarchy and plans for expansion, would evolve under Paul''s rule.


    As she strolled through the narrow pathways, she overheard snippets of conversation among the goblins. They spoke in hushed tones, exchanging worried glances. The news of their village becoming a staging ground for conquest and Paul''s plans for an army had unsettled them.


    Liora observed a group of goblin adults whispering anxiously.  They glanced at her with a mix of fear and reverence, taking hurried steps to make way as she passed. It was clear that the presence of an undead wraith, bonded to Paul, instilled a deep sense of dread among the goblins.


    Further along the path, she noticed a lone goblin repairing a damaged hut. His hands trembled as he worked, stealing glances in her direction. Liora decided to approach him, curious about the thoughts lingering in the mind of an ordinary goblin.


    "Working hard, are you?" she said, her ethereal voice cutting through the eerie silence.


    The goblin jumped at the sound, dropping his makeshift repair tools. He bowed hastily, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and reverence. "M-milady Liora, I didn''t mean to slack off. Please, forgive me."


    Liora observed the goblin''s fidgeting form. "No need for apologies. I''m merely curious. How do you feel about these changes in the village? Paul''s plans for an army and expansion."


    The goblin gulped audibly, struggling to find words. "It is... unsettling, milady. We''ve always had our way of life, our gods. Now, it seems everything is changing. Master Paul is powerful, but the unknown... it frightens us."


    Liora nodded, sensing the genuine concern in the goblin''s words. "Change is inevitable, but I wonder how the goblin heart will adapt. Do you think your kin will accept Master Paul''s vision willingly?"


    The goblin hesitated before responding, "Some will resist, I''m sure. But fear of the unknown might force others to comply. We''re a simple folk, milady, not used to such grand plans."


    As Liora left the goblin to his repairs, she pondered the intricate tapestry of emotions within the goblin society. Fear, reverence, uncertainty ¨C all woven together in the wake of Paul''s ambitions. The success or failure of his plans rested not only on military strategy but on the delicate threads of goblin hearts and minds.

 008

    Paul¡¯s POV


    Paul stood in front of Shiiraviia¡¯s shrine he had built in the center to the village.  It had taken two nights to get it how he wanted it.  It also gave some of the goblins the opportunity to work off their anxiety.  The shrine was smaller than he had wanted it, but the goblins weren¡¯t very good builders.  They were even slow repairing the fire damage to the longhouses.


    ¡°This ceremony is called the Twilight Covenant.¡±  Paul said loudly to the goblins.


    All the goblins in the village had been gathered together for this ceremony.  Paul wanted to make it perfectly clear that the worship of Shiiraviia was non optional and wanted to lead the first of several of the ceremonies himself, before letting the goblins lead the ceremonies on their own.


    "Children of the shadows, hear my words. Tonight, we stand at the threshold of a new covenant, a pact with a goddess who embodies the essence of death and undeath, the divine Shiiraviia. In her embrace, we find strength, eternal existence, and the power to shape our destinies."


    Paul lifted a dark gem, its facets catching the moonlight, symbolizing their devotion. "Behold, the offering of our desires ¨C gems born of the night, reflections of the power Shiiraviia grants. With these, we forge a connection to the realms beyond, seeking her favor."


    The goblins, intrigued, watched as Paul continued, his voice resonating with ancient authority. "Now, my kin, let your lifeblood become the ink that seals this covenant. Each drop offered willingly is a testament to your commitment to Shiiraviia, the dark goddess who watches over us."


    One by one, the goblins stepped forward, presenting their offerings. Paul, with solemnity, uttered an invocation.  "In the shadows we find strength, in the twilight we find life everlasting. Shiiraviia, hear our words, accept our offerings, and let your influence weave through the fabric of our existence."


    As the goblins offered their blood, mystical shadows danced around, and eerie whispers filled the grove. Paul concluded, "Let this Twilight Covenant bind us to Shiiraviia''s grace. In her name, we shall thrive, and through her, we shall transcend the limits of mortality."


    The village echoed with the collective whispers of goblin devotion, sealing the introduction of Shiiraviia into their pantheon.


    In the sacred grove, shadows deepened as the ceremony progressed. Paul continued to weave the narrative of Shiiraviia, captivating the goblin audience with tales of her dark majesty.


    "Long have mortals feared the embrace of death, but Shiiraviia teaches us that within the shadows lies not just an end but a beginning¡ªa transformation into something beyond the mortal coil. As we offer these gems, envision them as vessels for our aspirations, conduits to draw forth the essence of our dark goddess."


    Paul raised the dark gem high; its facets reflected the combined glow of goblin eyes fixated on him. "This gem, infused with the moon''s radiance, represents the bridge between our world and the divine. As it pulsates with the power of Shiiraviia, so too shall our connection with her strengthen."


    Goblin elders, Paul convinced to participate, adorned with ancient symbols, stepped forward, each held a relic of the underworld, an artifact that represented the realms of death and undeath. Paul acknowledged them, "These revered symbols connect us to the very fabric of Shiiraviia''s influence. Let them bear witness to our devotion and guide our steps on this path of darkness."


    As the goblin subjects eagerly presented their offerings, Paul turned to the goddess''s teachings. "In the depths of the night, Shiiraviia whispers secrets of immortality. Our mortal forms may fade, but in embracing her, we transcend the limitations of existence. Each drop of blood willingly given is a pledge¡ªa declaration of allegiance to the eternal dance of shadows."


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    The moon, cast an ethereal glow over the grove, seemed to respond to Paul''s invocation. Shadows flicked, intertwined with the mystical energies unleashed by the goblins. Paul''s words resonated, "In the embrace of Shiiraviia, fear not the darkness, for it is within that darkness that true power is found. Let her grace guide us through the night, and in return, we shall honor her with unwavering loyalty."


    As the last goblin completed the blood offering, a subtle shift in the atmosphere occurred. Whispers of unseen entities echoed through the grove; the air charged with an otherworldly presence. Paul, with eyes gleaming with newfound power, addressed the goddess directly, "Shiiraviia, hear our words, accept our offerings, and let your influence weave through the fabric of our existence."


    In response, the shadows converged, forming a spectral silhouette that seemed to dance with ethereal grace. The goblins, a mix of awe and reverence, watched as the grove becomes a haven of eerie tranquility. Paul, now filled with the divine energies, concludes, "May this covenant endure through the ages, and may Shiiraviia''s darkness guide us to heights beyond mortal comprehension. In her name, we thrive; in her shadows, we find everlasting life."


    The grove lingered in the aftermath of the ritual, an aura of newfound devotion settling among the goblins. Shiiraviia''s presence, though unseen, was palpable, and Paul, having successfully introduced the goddess to his subjects, prepared to lead them into a future shaped by the divine forces of death and undeath.


    Paul smiled to himself; it would seem Krelgr¡¯s concerns were for naught.  Paul left the shrine and motioned for Krelgr to follow.  The old goblin kept his eyes on the shrine while they walked to Pal¡¯s hut.


    ¡°Since this will be my new base, you¡¯ll oversee the construction of a for and wall.¡±  Paul said.  ¡°I expect that we will have some resistance to my conquest of the Deepwood.¡±


    Having a large army would help protect Paul and Liora from the adventures that killed Alaric.  The living could also build larger fortifications than the mindless dead could.  They would need more sleep and food, sure, but they were also innovative and clever, well, if he got servants smarter than goblins.


    ¡°Yes Master.¡±  Krelgr said halfheartedly.


    ¡°And speaking of conquest, I will need to bolster my troop count.  Where do goblins bury their dead?¡±


    Paul kicked himself a little for not thinking about this earlier.  He could have used the dead from the first village to bolster his small army before attacking this one.


    ¡°We do not bury our dead Master.  We leave the corpses to the elements after they are stripped of everything of use.¡±


    ¡°Unfortunate.¡±


    Paul stopped walking.  He turned and faced Krelgr.  The old goblin looked up with sad eyes.  They were the eyes of a defeated foe.  Grag looked at Paul with awe and fear, mixed with envy.  Most of the goblins looked at him like that, almost as if they wanted to be Paul.


    Goblins worshipped strength.  Strength gave a goblin everything he wanted.  To these goblins, Paul¡¯s supernatural strength and speed make him the pinnacle of what they could theoretically be.


    Either mentality was good.  Both would do as they were told, because in the end, both were afraid not to.  This level of obedience warmed Paul¡¯s insides.


    He would use this awe and fear to build his new nation.  Soon the goblins of the Deepwood would have one master, Paul.


    ¡°How long will it take to build defensive fortifications, like a wall around the village, and some towers, and a keep.  I want a strong central keep.  Every wizard needs a place to put his library.¡±  Paul said.


    Krelgr took a moment to think before saying, ¡°My people might be able to make a wall, but I don¡¯t think they can make a keep or towers.  I saw a keep and towers when I was younger.  It was designed and built by the hobgoblins.  They have territory deeper into the Deepwood.¡±


    Paul looked down at the old goblin and clenched his jaw a little.  He wanted a castle to keep his stuff in and help defend himself from the adventures.  That the goblins couldn¡¯t make what he needed irked him.


    ¡°Focus on the wall for now.¡±  Paul told Krelgr.  ¡°Also where are the closest tribes to Gravewell?¡±


    ¡°The river turns north a mile or so from here.  Just after the bend in the river there is another large village.¡±  Krelgr said.  ¡°If we cross the river and go west there is a cluster of smaller villages in a break in the forest.  There is also a hobgoblin village further east beyond where our village was.¡±


    It was interesting however, that there was more than just goblin tribes withing the Deepwood.  Paul supposed he shouldn¡¯t be surprised, the Deepwood was one of the largest forests he knew about.  Hobgoblins were militaristic in nature.  Conquering a hobgoblin tribe would get him access to people that could build his fortress.


    ¡°Show me this hobgoblin village.¡±  Paul said with a thin smile.

 009

    Liora¡¯s POV


    The village of the hobgoblins was more like a small fortress with a wall encircling it.  About a hundred yards from the wall the trees were all cut down allowing for a clear view of the killing field.  About every two hundred yards there was a tower manned by two hobgoblins and a fire pit.


    Liora had been observing them with Paul for about an hour.  She was close to growing bored of watching them, but Paul seemed to have endless patience when it came to issues of war and magic.


    ¡°Do you think you can sneak in and take a look around?¡±  Paul finally asked.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    Liora could turn invisible to most creatures as well as walk through walls.  Spying on the hobgoblins would be an easy feat.


    As she made her way to the wall, she noticed a ditch dug in front of the palisade.  The ditch was about two meters deep with spikes driven into the sides.  With a light pull on her air tether she floated over the ditch and into the wall beyond.  Still pulling on her air tether, she formed the rune to turn invisible.


    The inside of the village was neat and tidy.  The buildings were built in neat rows and the streets were square.  From where she stood Liora could see a keep in the center of the village with another wall around it.  Inside the other wall was a small fort.  It looked made of wood.


    Liora wondered if the fort was strong.  She decided to test her connection to Paul.  Before Alaric died, she could go about a mile away from Paul.  A small pull of her shadow tether let her turn invisible and Liora started to make her way towards the fort.


    As she looked around, Liora noticed a few hobgoblins.  They were on average five-foot-six.  They would definitely have a reach and height advantage over the three-foot goblins.  Like their goblin cousins they were covered in brown fur, but unlike the scantily clad goblins the hobgoblins had good clothing on.


    The hobgoblins had wolflike ears that twitched at every sound.  The hobgoblin kept themselves in a constant state of readiness.  Their faces were angular and sharp compared to the flat faces of goblins.


    About halfway to the fort, she noticed another building.  It was larger than the buildings around it.  Other than the fort, it looked to be the only building she had seen that was more than one story.  The outer walls were decorated with the skulls of their most impressive kills.  Liora could make out the skulls of small dragons, giants, and other hobgoblins.


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    While the rest of the town had been sparsely populated with only the occasional person around, this building had a rather large crowd.  There must have been a hundred hobgoblins.  She instinctively knew what the building was, a temple.


    Still invisible she decided to creep her way forward and get a look at the temple.  The gathering of hobgoblins told her these were obviously devout people.  As she got closer, she could hear chanting.


    In front of the crowd of hobgoblins stood a figure over six feet tall.  He wore full plate armor and held a large mace.  His eyes were a striking red color.


    As Liora walked closer to the gathering the big hobgoblin raised his hand and shouted something.  The chanting stopped and, in an instant, the was no noise.  The lead hobgoblin turned his head and looked exactly where Liora was.  She quickly checked to see if her invisibility spell was still in place.


    It was.


    She turned around to see if something behind her might have caught his attention.  There was nothing behind her.  More shouting drew her attention back to the hobgoblin.  He pointed his mace at her and a bright white light overtook Liora.


    She shouldn¡¯t be there.  This was a place of death and would be the death of her.  Instantly she turned and ran.  Pain radiated through her body.  Dread poured into her mind.  If she stayed here, she would die.


    Liora turned back the way she had come and ran.  She couldn¡¯t see anything except the exit.  The wall she had come through was straight in front of her.  She jumped at the wall and phased though it.  Once on the other side she kept running.


    Finally, her sprint had ended and the fear of the hobgoblins abated.  She looked around and through some bushes Paul caught up to her.


    ¡°What happened?  Are you ok?¡±  Paul asked.


    Liora looked back the way she had run from.  For a long moment she didn¡¯t say anything.


    ¡°The hobgoblins have a cleric with access to holy magic.¡±  She shook her head, ¡°He is powerful.¡±


    ¡°Damn.¡±  Paul said.  ¡°He must be powerful to be able to rebuke you.¡±


    ¡°It was not like anything I had ever felt before.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t imagine.¡±  Paul looked back toward where the village was.  ¡°If he is that strong, we can¡¯t attack unless we have a greater living force.  He would just annihilate our zombies and skeletons.  Grag.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Master.¡±  The small creature was breathing heavily.  He clearly had a hard time keeping pace.


    ¡°We will ignore the hobgoblin village for now.  Show us the location of more goblin villages.¡±  Paul instructed.


    ¡°There are a lot of villages in the area, all within a couple days walk from Gravewell.¡±


    ¡°We will start with the closest villages first.  We will have to be careful though, while we haven¡¯t encountered many divine casters yet that doesn¡¯t mean the small goblin villages won¡¯t have any.¡±  Paul said.  ¡°We should go check with Krelgr to see if holy magic is common among goblins, or if the hobgoblins are unique.¡±


    Liora barely noticed the conversation.  She looked down at her hands and could still see them shaking and blinking in and out of existence.  For the first time in her unlife, she felt fear of nonexistence.  It was a fear she would never forget.


    When she got her hands on the cleric, she was going to kill him.

 010

    Paul¡¯s POV


    It had been a month since the adventurers killed Alaric.  So far no one had come into his part of the Deepwood looking for him.  Alaric¡¯s slayers haunted his every step.  Each village he took, he expected the adventurers to show up and kill him.


    Paul didn¡¯t dream any more, but if he could, he knew he would have nightmares about them.  He didn¡¯t even know who they were, but if they could kill Alaric, they had to be strong.


    In the past month he hadn¡¯t been idle.  He had taken 6 other villages.  His number of undead was up to 253 skeletons and 173 zombies.  The number of goblins under his rule was over 400.  The population of Gravewell had nearly doubled.


    The month had been somewhat productive.  Gravewell now had a wall, which Paul was ecstatic about, but the goblins were too incompetent to make a keep.  They could hardly build anything more than a square building with no internal walls.


    The desire for a keep brought him to his current situation.  Having conquered 8 villages, a couple goblins managed to escape the conquest, but took word of him to other villages about him.  He was now known as the Conqueror.


    Apparently, conquerors showed up every now and then and tried to untie the goblin tribes into one giant army.  Usually, they failed.


    This new reputation however, brought new opportunity.  A few days earlier a messenger arrived from a village of nearly 500, led by the hobgoblin Rikkard.  Rikkard assured Paul that he had several human slaves that knew the intricacies of fort building.  That and the submission of his village to the new conqueror, all for one simple task.


    About two miles from Rikkard¡¯s village was a grove of giant trees.  Inside the grove was what was interesting.


    Deathweaver.


    And who was Deathweaver might you ask?  It was a spider the size of a large house.  Deathweaver had a taste for goblins.  So, a deal was offered and accepted.  If Paul could slay Deathweaver, Rikkard¡¯s village would swear itself to Paul.


    Paul¡¯s crimson eyes glowed faintly in the dim light of the cove.  He moved with preternatural grace, each step as silent as a whisper.  The air was thick with tension, the musty scent of damp earth mixing with the sharp tang of magic.  Before him, Deathweaver, a monstrous spider with a leg span as wide as a house, lurked in the shadows.  Its many eyes glittered like black jewels, reflecting the faint light that seeped into the cavern.  The creature¡¯s chitinous body was dark and foreboding, with thick, spiked legs that clattered ominously against the stone floor.


    Paul tightened his grip on the blackened staff he held, its surface cold and slick, pulsing with the energy he had siphoned from his tethers.  He could feel the mana coursing through him, a steady stream from the tethers to death, fire, and air.  Yet, even as the power flowed into him, he felt the subtle leak of it, like sand slipping through his fingers.  He needed to act, to strike before he lost too much.


    Deathweaver struck first.  With a speed that belied its massive size, it lunged forward, its fangs dripping with venom that could melt through steel.  Paul barely had time to react, his instincts guiding him as he thrust his hand forward.  He summoned the power of the air tether, channeling the mana into a gale-force wind.  The blast hit Deathweaver head-on, throwing it back against the stone wall with a deafening crash.  Dust and loose stones rained down from above as the spider let out a screech, more infuriated than injured.


    Paul didn¡¯t wait for the creature to recover.  He drew on the fire tether next, feeling the heat of it flood his veins.  With a swift motion, he slashed his staff through the air, releasing a wave of flame that rolled across the cavern floor like a living thing.  The fire roared toward Deathweaver, illuminating the dark space with a hellish glow. The creature responded with an eerie, high-pitched hiss, its legs moving in a frantic blur as it scrambled to avoid the blaze.


    Deathweaver was no ordinary beast; it was a predator born of dark magic, bred to kill.  With uncanny agility, it leaped to the side, scaling the wall in an instant.  The fire passed beneath it, singeing the stone but missing its mark.  From its new vantage point, Deathweaver shot out thick strands of webbing, aiming to ensnare Paul where he stood.


    Paul¡¯s senses flared with the impending danger, and he reached deep into the death tether, pulling forth its chilling power. Shadows gathered around him, swirling and coalescing into a protective barrier of dark energy. The webs struck the barrier and disintegrated, the necrotic energy consuming them on contact.


    Paul could feel the strain.  He had to keep gathering mana, had to keep the flow steady, or the shield would falter.  With a snarl, he tightened his grip on his staff and channeled more energy into the shield, fortifying it against Deathweaver¡¯s assault.  The spider, sensing its prey was not so easily caught, paused for a moment, its many eyes flickering with something almost like intelligence.


    In that brief lull, Paul made his move.  He released the shield, letting it dissipate into the ether, and poured everything he had into a single, devastating attack. Drawing on the death tether with all his might, he summoned a spectral hand that materialized above the Deathweaver, crackling with dark energy.  The hand reached down, grasping the creature¡¯s body in a death grip.


    Deathweaver shrieked, its legs flailing as the necrotic energy seeped into its body, draining its life force.  Paul could feel the creature¡¯s resistance, its will to survive battling against the death magic he wielded.  He was relentless, his focus unyielding.  The spectral hand tightened its grip, and with a final surge of power, Paul sent a wave of fire through the hand, igniting the death magic with a blaze that turned the cavern into an inferno.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    Deathweaver¡¯s screams echoed off the walls as its body was consumed by the deadly combination of fire and death.  Its legs twitched spasmodically, then stilled as the flames died down, leaving behind only charred remains.


    Paul stood amidst the ashes, the last of his mana leaking away as he released his hold on the tethers.  The cove was silent now, save for the faint crackle of dying embers.  He had won, but he knew the cost of victory.  He would need to replenish his mana soon, or the next battle might not end in his favor.


    Paul hadn¡¯t taken more than a few steps from the smoldering remains of Deathweaver when a scuffling sound caught his attention.  From behind a large tree, a small figure emerged, darting forward with surprising speed.  It was the goblin guide, a wiry creature with sharp features and a perpetually mischievous grin. His oversized ears twitched with excitement, and his wide eyes gleamed in the flickering light of the dying embers.


    ¡°Ha! You did it!¡± the goblin cackled, his voice a mix of awe and glee. ¡°Big nasty spider, all crispy now!¡± He scampered over to the charred remains of Deathweaver, hopping from one foot to the other as if he could hardly contain himself.


    Paul watched in silence, his expression unreadable, as the goblin circled the corpse.  The creature had been a terrifying opponent, a lethal guardian of the dungeon¡¯s secrets, but to the goblin, it was now nothing more than a trophy.


    With a gleeful snicker, the goblin pulled back one of his scrawny legs and delivered a swift kick to one of the Deathweaver¡¯s charred legs.  The limb cracked and fell away, crumbling into ash upon impact.  The goblin howled with laughter, clutching his sides as he pranced around the fallen beast. ¡°Take that, you eight-legged freak! No more goblin snacks for you!¡±


    He kicked it again, this time at the abdomen, and more ash scattered into the air. ¡°You thought you were so tough, huh? But look at you now! Just a pile of crispy bits!¡±  The goblin was practically dancing now, his excitement bubbling over with each taunt he threw at the lifeless corpse.


    Paul couldn¡¯t help but feel a twinge of amusement at the goblin¡¯s antics.  Despite the gravity of the battle, the creature¡¯s exuberance was infectious.  It was as if the goblin had forgotten entirely about the danger, they¡¯d faced moments before, lost in the simple joy of their victory.


    The goblin finally stopped his dance, panting slightly from his exertions.  He looked up at Paul, his grin wide and toothy. ¡°You¡¯re one mean necromancer, boss! Nobody¡¯s gonna mess with us now!¡±


    Paul nodded slightly, acknowledging the goblin¡¯s praise, though his mind was already drifting back to the next challenge that awaited them deeper within the Deepwood.  For now, he allowed himself a moment of respite, watching as the goblin continued to celebrate their hard-earned victory in his own peculiar way.


    ¡°Take me back to the village.¡±  Paul told his guide.  ¡°Rikkard should be happy with you as a witness that Deathweaver is dead.¡±


    ¡°You betcha he will.¡±  The guide said.  ¡°We are with you now.¡±


    Paul allowed a smile to creep onto his face.  He wasn¡¯t sure if Rikkard was going to surrender so easily, but he had given his word publicly, and Paul didn¡¯t know the consequences of going back on your word in goblin society.


    The thick canopy of the Deepwood loomed above Paul as he made his way into the heart of the goblin village. The air here was dense with the scent of pine and earth, and the sounds of distant wildlife blended with the murmurs of goblins moving through the trees. Makeshift huts, made of wood and dried leaves, dotted the clearing, their occupants peering out cautiously as Paul approached.


    In the center of the village, Rikkard, the hobgoblin chief, stood. His massive frame cast a long shadow; his yellow eyes gleaming with suspicion.  Around him, goblins and a few hobgoblins lingered, watching the scene unfold with a mix of curiosity and fear.  Rikkard''s hand rested on the hilt of his cleaver, the worn handle showing the signs of many battles fought and won.


    Paul stopped a few paces away, his crimson eyes reflecting the fading light filtering through the trees. The air between them was thick with tension.  The goblin guide, still buzzing with excitement, skipped ahead of Paul, waving his arms in the air as he approached Rikkard.


    "Chief!  The necromancer did it! Deathweaver is dead!  I saw it myself!" the guide chirped, his voice barely containing his glee.


    Rikkard¡¯s expression hardened, his thick fingers tightening around the cleaver''s handle.  He stepped forward, his towering form dwarfing the goblin beside him.  "Is that so?"  His voice was a low growl.  His gaze shifted to Paul, and there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes.  "You killed the Deathweaver, bloodsucker?"


    Paul¡¯s voice was calm, but there was an edge to it, like the threat of a storm in the distance.  "Dead and burned, just as I promised.  Now, you will swear fealty to me, as agreed."


    For a moment, the village seemed to still.  The goblins held their breath, waiting for their chief¡¯s response. Rikkard¡¯s eyes narrowed, his lip curling into a sneer.  "You think one dead spider is enough to make me bow?  You may have killed the beast, but you¡¯re in my land now.  My warriors are ready to gut you where you stand."


    The hobgoblins around Rikkard tensed, their hands drifting toward their weapons.  The goblins stirred nervously, unsure of what might happen next.  Rikkard¡¯s voice dripped with disdain.  "Why should we follow you, bloodsucker?  We don¡¯t kneel to the likes of you."


    Paul¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change, but the air around him seemed to chill.  He raised a hand slowly, and shadows began to pool at his feet, creeping outward like tendrils of darkness.  His voice was low, but it carried the weight of unspoken power.  "Do not mistake your strength for superiority, Rikkard.  You¡¯ve seen what I can do.  I could raise the dead from these woods, fill the night with fire, or drain the very air from your lungs.  Test me, and you will see."


    The goblin guide, ever eager to avoid conflict, stepped closer to Rikkard, his voice pleading.  "Chief! I saw it! Deathweaver¡¯s dead.  He burned it to ash!  You said you''d swear if the necromancer did the job.  We¡¯re safer with him, not against him!"


    Rikkard glared down at the guide, his muscles coiled with tension.  His pride was at war with the reality of what stood before him.  He knew, deep down, that Paul wasn¡¯t bluffing.  The power that radiated from the vampire was something beyond anything the goblin chief had ever faced.


    After a long, tense silence, Rikkard spat on the ground at Paul¡¯s feet.  "Damn you," he growled, lowering his gaze.  With slow, deliberate movements, he dropped to one knee, placing his cleaver at his side.  His eyes burned with resentment, but there was submission in his voice.  "I, Rikkard, chief of the Deepwood goblins, swear fealty to you, Paul.  My warriors will follow."


    Around them, the hobgoblins hesitated for a moment before following their chief¡¯s example, kneeling one by one.  The goblins quickly followed suit, bowing their heads in submission to Paul.


    Paul stood tall, his cold gaze sweeping over the scene.  He had won, not by brute force, but by fear and power.  The goblin village was his now, and with it, a foothold in the Deepwood.  Rikkard¡¯s reluctance mattered little.  What mattered was that Paul had another piece of his growing influence secured.


    As the village slowly returned to its usual rhythm, Rikkard rose to his feet, his eyes burning with silent fury.  He would obey for now, but Paul knew the hobgoblin chief was a creature of pride. It would take more than a dead Deathweaver to truly bind him to loyalty.  For now, though, Paul had what he needed.


    Without another word, Paul turned and walked away, leaving Rikkard and his warriors in the clearing, the weight of his victory hanging heavy in the air.

 011

    Paul¡¯s POV


    Rikkard stood in front of Paul with three humans.  All three humans wore brown burlap shirts and pants.  The first was the oldest.  He had all grey hair and a beard down to his sternum.  The next was around 40 and had brown greying hair with no beard.  The last was the youngest, around 20, maybe younger.  He also had brown hair with a peach fuzz beard.


    Rikkard gestured to the oldest man, ¡°This is Howard.  He is a master builder and knows all you¡¯ll need to know to construct a new castle here at Gravewell.¡±


    He motioned to the middle-aged man.  ¡°This is Joshua, he is a carpenter and can direct your workers into building anything out of wood.¡±


    Finally, he motioned to the youngest.  ¡°This is William, he is Howard¡¯s apprentice.¡±


    Paul got up from his seat and walked up to the men arrayed before him.  ¡°So, you will lead my team then?¡±  He looked each man up and down.  ¡°As I am sure you are aware, but I am Paul Alaricsson, Lord of this territory.  If you do your jobs well you will be handsomely rewarded.  If you disappoint me, well let¡¯s hope you don¡¯t disappoint.¡±  When Paul finished looking William up and down, he looked back at Howard.


    ¡°What do you need from me to build the keep?  We have wood aplenty, but little stone, so the keep will need to be wooden.  I also want a large library.¡±


    ¡°First and foremost, I will need parchment, ink and charcoal.  I will neem to design the keep and library.  Plus, any other building that will go within the fort walls.¡±


    ¡°I have some parchment and ink with my books.  Charcoal grabbed from the firepits should work, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes, that would be fine.  I can also show pictures and designs to your blacksmith so he knows how to make our tools.¡±


    ¡°A blacksmith?¡±  In his entire time being in Gravewell, Paul hadn¡¯t seen or heard of a blacksmith.


    ¡°Yes, a blacksmith.  He will also need to make nails and hinges.¡±  Howard confirmed.


    Paul looked over at Liora, ¡°I need to speak to Krelgr or Grag.¡±  He rubbed his forehead, ¡°I need to find out if we have a blacksmith.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll go find them.¡±  Liora responded, ¡°Krelgr should be close, he wanted to meet with you when Rikkard was done.¡±


    She left Paul hut with no particular haste.


    ¡°Rikkard, do you have a blacksmith at your village?¡±


    ¡°No.  Our smith and several others were taken by some ogres in a raid.¡±


    Paul rubbed his forehead again.  It was becoming quite the task to get this fortress off the ground.  ¡°Other than a blacksmith what do you need?  Wait, do you need a blacksmith before work can begin?¡±


    Howard nodded.  ¡°Yes.  We will need the blacksmith.  Some tools can be fashioned out of wood or without metal, but hammers and saws will be needed to flatten boards and split logs.  We will also need axes to fell trees in the first place.  We can¡¯t proceed without a blacksmith my lord.¡±


    ¡°What else do you need?¡±


    ¡°Nothing from me.¡±  Howard said.


    Paul looked at Joshua.  ¡°What about from you?¡±


    ¡°Tools and laborers.  I just need people to move all the heavy wood around.¡±  Joshua said.


    ¡°Labor I can get for you.  I have plenty of that.¡±


    Liora came back in with Krelgr in tow.  ¡°We don¡¯t have a blacksmith in the village.¡±  She said as they walked in.  ¡°If the village needs anything made of metal they steal it, or trade slaves to the traders that come through every now and then.¡±


    ¡°I have heard a lot of these traders.  How often do they some here?¡±  Paul asked.


    ¡°Once or twice a season.¡±  Rikkard said.


    ¡°Do you know when they may come back?¡±This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    ¡°No, my lord.¡±  Krelgr said.  ¡°They just came through, right before you got here.  It could be another season before they come back.¡±


    ¡°Where are these ogres camped that stole the blacksmith?  With luck we can get him back.¡±  Paul looked at Rikkard.


    ¡°They live about a day¡¯s ride north from here.¡±  Rikkard said.  ¡°I can show you the way, but I don¡¯t think the ogres are going to negotiate with you.  They don¡¯t value things like gold, they think largely with their stomachs.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fine.  How many are there, in case it comes down to a fight?¡±


    ¡°I know of five, but there could be a couple more females and children in the camp that might join a fight against us.¡±  Rikkard said.


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to worry.  I will fight them alone.  If I defeat the strongest members of the clan myself, the others might just surrender.¡±  Paul smiled.  ¡°Just imagine how intimidating my army would be if it had a couple ogres in it.  We leave immediately.  I want to get there as soon as possible.  The sooner we get the blacksmith, the sooner we can start work on the keep.¡±


    As Paul and Rikkard made their way through the moonlit woods, the distant grunts and guttural laughter of the ogres grew louder. The tension between them was palpable, though neither seemed inclined to address it directly. Their conversation, instead, focused on the blacksmith whose life hung in the balance.


    ¡°Ogres have probably got him strung up like a pig.  If they haven¡¯t smashed his hands yet, I¡¯ll be surprised.¡±  Rikkard said gruffly.


    "Then you¡¯d better hope they haven¡¯t. His hands are the only part of him I care about." Paul replied dryly.


    Rikard snorted.  He looked over at Paul for a brief moment.  "Don¡¯t get any ideas, bloodsucker. That smith works for me. Has for years. He knows how to forge weapons the way I like¡ªthick, heavy, made to cleave flesh and bone. Not some dainty human tools."


    "He may be yours, but his skills are what matter to me. A fortress doesn¡¯t build itself, Rikkard. I need nails, hinges, tools¡ªthings your goblins can¡¯t produce with their shoddy craftsmanship."


    "So that¡¯s why you¡¯re here. Not for me, not for him¡ªjust for your precious fortress."


    "Of course. I have no interest in your village or your smith¡¯s well-being. But if I¡¯m to rule these lands, I need infrastructure. Your smith is a means to that end. Surely even you can see the value in keeping him alive."  Paul replied coldly.


    Rikkard growled angrily.  "I see the value just fine, bloodsucker. Doesn¡¯t mean I like you thinking you¡¯ve got a claim on him. He¡¯s mine¡ªdon¡¯t forget it."


    Paul let out a small laugh.  ¡°I don¡¯t care who he belongs to, so long as he works. But let me make something clear: if you fail to keep him functional, I will find someone else. And if that means taking another of your people, so be it."


    Rikkard stopped walking and glared at Paul.  "Watch your words, vampire. You might be useful now, but don¡¯t think I won¡¯t gut you if you push too far."


    Paul, stopped as well, his crimson eyes glowed faintly in the dim light.  "Spare me the bravado, Rikkard. You need that smith as much as I do. Your weapons, your raids¡ªnone of it works without him. We both know this. So, let¡¯s get him back alive, before we waste any more time."


    Rikkard grunted as he started to walk again.  "Fine. But when this is done, remember: he works for me. Not you. You want your nails and tools? You¡¯ll pay for them like everyone else."


    "We¡¯ll see, Rikkard. Let¡¯s deal with the ogres first."


    The two continued their march, their mutual disdain tempered by the practicality of their alliance. Neither cared for the blacksmith as a person; to them, he was a tool to be preserved and used. Whether for weapons or construction, his survival wasn¡¯t a matter of mercy¡ªit was necessity.


    Close to dawn they reached the outskirts of the ogre camp.  Paul looked at the rising sun.


    ¡°Wait here.¡±  Paul said to Rikkard.


    ¡°What for?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to go find a place to sleep through the day, and I don¡¯t trust you to not kill me in my sleep.¡±  Paul responded.


    Rikkard let out a barking laugh.  ¡°Fair enough, blood sucker.  I¡¯ll scout out the encampment and meet you back here at dusk.¡±


    Paul waited for Rikkard to go before heading in another direction.  He pulled on his earth tether to draw the mana he needed to cast a small spell that would hide his tracks.  He was relatively sure Rikkard didn¡¯t know magic and couldn¡¯t track his mana.  At some point he had to just give up safety measures and continue about his business.


    ¡°Keep an eye out while I sleep.¡±  He told Liora, who had been following them the entire time.


    ¡°Of course.¡±  Was all he heard.  He could tell where she was from the bond, and knew she was trying to stay invisible.


    He found a suitable spot near a giant oak.  He called more earth mana to himself and pushed it into the ground to open up a deep hole.  Sure Rikkard, or even the ogres, wouldn¡¯t be able to find him, he jumped in and used his earth mana to close the hole over him.


    As the sun rose, he could feel its position in the sky and felt the strong urge to sleep.  The night passed without issue, as far as Paul could tell, nobody tried to dig him up.


    Free of his earthly bed he pulled on his air tether to cast an air spell that would clean his cloths.


    ¡°Anything eventful happen?¡±  Paul asked Liora.


    ¡°No.  Just some forest animals.¡±  Liora moved closer to look at his cloths.  ¡°Rikkard didn¡¯t even bother to look for you.¡±


    ¡°Quite admirable on his part.¡±  Paul said.  ¡°I assumed he would try to kill me the first chance he got.¡±


    ¡°Maybe he thinks the ogres will do it.¡±  Liora turned invisible again.  ¡°Let¡¯s continue.¡±


    Paul made his way back to where he was supposed to meet Rikkard.  He didn¡¯t bother hiding his tracks back, but he did try to remain as quiet as possible, seeing as he was close to the ogre encampment.  Rikkard was leaning against a thin tree.  The hobgoblin looked at him as he came close.


    ¡°About time blood sucker.¡±  He stood.  ¡°As far as I could see there were about five male ogres, three females, and two younglings.  To keep such a host together the leader must be pretty strong.  Usually ogres are solitary creatures.¡±


    ¡°Well let¡¯s go find this great leader and kill him.¡±  Paul said as he walked in the direction of the encampment.

 012

    Paul¡¯s POV


    The air reeked of rotting meat and damp earth as Paul and Rikkard neared the ogres'' camp. Flies buzzed in chaotic swarms over heaps of discarded bones, and the occasional guttural snarl or grunt echoed through the trees. Paul wrinkled his nose but kept his stride steady. Disgust was a distraction he couldn''t afford.


    Paul didn¡¯t bother trying to hide his presence from the ogres.  Quickly he pulled on his fire and death tethers.  The ogres may hear him coming, but if they tried anything he would put the biggest one in the ground as quickly as possible.


    As was usual by overconfident people the ogres were lounging about when Paul and Rikkard came into view.  As Rikkard had said there were eight adults.  Paul couldn¡¯t really tell which ones were male or female.


    The ogres were giant ten-foot monstrosities with giant pot bellies.  They had to be at least 1,200 pounds each.  They had pinkish grey skin and were completely bald.  It was hard to tell any of them apart while they lounged on the ground in giant trash and refuse piles.


    ¡°Who speaks for you?¡±  Paul yelled out, hoping the leader would be the one to actually answer.


    One of the ogres, at least six inches taller than the rest stood up, ¡°I Ogi.  This Ogi¡¯s band.¡±


    Paul continued to walk forward and Rikkard stopped.


    ¡°I¡¯m no match for an ogre, you¡¯ll have to fight them without me.¡±  Rikkard said.


    Paul rolled his eyes and continued.  ¡°I am looking for a blacksmith you stole from a goblin village.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±  Ogi said.  ¡°Ogi no steal.  Ogi take what¡¯s his.¡±


    ¡°Not this time.¡±


    ¡°Ogi no liar!¡±  Ogi screamed at he started running at Paul.


    Drawing fire and death mana into his throat, Paul opened his mouth and breath a jet of black flames at Ogi.  Faster than what Paul would have thought possible for such a giant creature, Ogi threw himself to the left of the flame.


    ¡°Tricky, tricky little human.¡±  Ogi said.


    Paul would just have to risk Ogi getting closer before he cast his next spell.  Crouching low Paul, began pulling on his air tether.  It wasn¡¯t as developed as his fire or death, but he could make it work.


    As Ogi got closer Paul could hear the other ogres yelling taunts and threats at him.  He ignored them as best as he could and tried to concentrate on his fight with Ogi.  He also silently hoped the others wouldn¡¯t feel the need to interfere.   If they were as apt to fight as Ogi, he might have trouble with them.


    When Ogi got within ten yards of Paul, he thrust his hands forward and cast a blade made of air.  The giant ogre, as fast as he was, simply wasn¡¯t ready for an invisible blade of air.  The wind blade struck him in the thigh causing him to stumble.


    Seizing the moment, Paul ran forward and this time aimed his black flames of death at Ogi¡¯s face.  The ogre screamed in pain and tried to block his face with his arms.  When the spell finished Paul expected to have fully defeated the ogre.


    To his surprise Ogi wasn¡¯t dead.  The skin on his forearms slid from his giant arms and the skin on his face was well burnt.


    ¡°Surender your troupe and I¡¯ll kill you quickly.¡±  Paul told the giant ogre.


    ¡°Ogi die before surrender.¡±  Slowly Ogi rose to stand tall.


    The vampire took a moment to gather more fire mana.  This time without death mana in the mix, Paul shot fire from his outstretched hands.  Ogi screamed as he died.


    With Ogi dead, Paul looked at the rest of the troupe.  ¡°You serve me now.¡±


    ¡°No.¡±  One of the ogres said.  ¡°Kress is leader now.¡±  He kicked another of the Ogres.  ¡°Get up, Thug.  Kill the human.¡±


    ¡®Damn.¡¯  Paul thought.  ¡°Then you die with Ogi!¡±This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    Both ogres made their way to take Paul out.  They weren¡¯t completely stupid, as they stayed on either side of Paul.  He needed to get them together so he could get them with a powerful enough spell to kill, or at least injure, them both.


    With a speed more to Paul¡¯s liking, Kress started to run at him.  Thug kept his distance.  Which Paul liked.  It seemed one was more invested in winning than the other.


    As Kress got closer, Paul decided to run at him in turn.  He may have been human once, but now he was a vampire.  With his undead state came perks all their own.  Paul knew he was much faster than Kress, and in turn Thug.


    With razor sharp nails an inch long Paul rand past Kress and scratch this thigh.  The cuts weren¡¯t deep enough to kill, but Kress screamed in pain.  Thug stopped momentarily.  Kress tried to grab Paul as he ran by, but missed by a large margin.


    ¡°Stop!¡±  Kress cried out.  ¡°I kill you.  I swear you dead.¡±


    Using his powerful nails, Paul latched himself on Kress¡¯s back.  With his free hand he scratched massive cuts into Kress¡¯s shoulders and the back of his neck.  Kress bucked like a wild stallion, trying to dislodge Paul.


    Paul was glad for Alaric¡¯s combat training.  Before becoming a vampire, Paul had practically no physical combat experience.  Thanks to Alaric, he could now concentrate enough, even during combat, to pull on his tethers.


    With fire mana and air mana, Paul covered his free hand in a wind and fire blade and ran his hand as far into Kress¡¯s back as he could.  He necromancer severed the ogre¡¯s spine and pierced his heart.


    ¡°Thug surrender.¡±  Paul heard the other ogre call out from his spot far from Paul.


    ¡°Any others?¡±  Paul asked.  None of the other ogres said or did anything.  They just looked about, as if trying not to focus on Ogi or Kress¡¯s defeats.  ¡°I¡¯ll take that as a yes.¡±


    ¡°Your surrender, means you are mine.  There is no questioning me or my orders.  You will do as I say or you will die.  I will kill you like I did them.¡±


    Paul brought the full weight of his death tether and raised the two dead ogres as zombies.


    ¡°You will serve loyally in this life or the next.¡±  Paul walked closer to the ogre troupe, who flinched at his approach.  ¡°Do you understand?¡±


    They all eventually confirmed they understood what was expected of them.


    ¡°You will come back to my city with me so I can keep a closer eye on you.¡±  Paul heard someone approaching form behind.


    He looked back to see Rikkard walking up to him.  ¡°When did you learn the ogre¡¯s language?¡±


    ¡°I have a spell that lets me speak and understand all languages.¡±   Paul responded.


    ¡°You have a lot of magic.  Sounds useful.  Certainly, in the fight with them.¡±  Rikkard eyed the undead ogres.  ¡°Now I know why so many of my kin try to learn at least a little magic.¡±


    Not wanting to get into a long discussion with Rikkard, Paul instead looked back at the ogres.  ¡°Where is the blacksmith?¡±


    ¡°A what?¡±  One of the females asked.


    ¡°The human you took from my town.¡±  Paul responded.


    ¡°Human dead.  Eaten.¡±  Another of the females said.


    ¡°You ate my blacksmith!¡±  Paul roared.


    Rikkard stepped a little closer.  ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°They ate my blacksmith.¡±  Paul stated to growl a little.


    ¡°He was my blacksmith.¡±


    ¡°Shut the fuck up.¡±  Paul said with venom in his voice.


    Rikkard was smart enough not to argue.  He didn¡¯t step back though, and maintained his distance, as a show of strength.


    Paul turned back to the ogres.  ¡°I should disembowel you.¡±  The ogres shuffled around, knowing that they were being threatened, but could actually comprehend the language enough to know what it meant.  Sign a little Paul rephrased, ¡°I will cut you open and dig the human out of your guts.¡±


    ¡°No!¡±  the first female said.  ¡°We no eat human.  Ogi ate human alone.¡±


    ¡°Not me!¡±  One of the small ones cried in distress.  ¡°That Ogi, not me.¡±


    Rubbing his eyes in frustration, Paul looked back at Rikkard.  ¡°Where can we get another blacksmith?¡±


    ¡°There are small human villages south of the Deepwood.  We might find one there, if we go out raiding.¡±  Rikkard said.


    ¡°Is that going to bring unwanted attention from Angla?¡±  Paul asked.


    Angla was the country south of the Deepwood.  It was where Paul was originally from.  While not a military powerhouse, they still had an army larger than Paul¡¯s.  He didn¡¯t want to force a battle between them if it could be avoided.


    ¡°We raid the villages all the time in the winter.¡±  Rikkard said.  ¡°Sometimes the kingdom will send troops, but they never follow into the Deepwood.¡±


    Angla probably didn¡¯t send troops into the woods themselves because they couldn¡¯t afford to lose soldiers in a confrontation with ogres, hobgoblin, goblins, or whatever else called the Deepwood home.  Angla had a more hostile neighbor to the south called Reinstrowd.  Reinstrowd used to be a simple coastal city, but expanded quickly and aggressively.


    During Paul¡¯s life in Angla, he was a mage of Angla¡¯s wizard tower, and would therefore have to go to war if needed.  In his life he would not have been able to fight a couple of ogres.  Alaric had given him true power and eternal life to become even more powerful.


    ¡°We shouldn¡¯t let them know we have magic.  So, the undead won¡¯t go on the raid.¡±  Paul looked at Rikkard.  ¡°You¡¯ll take a force into Angla and get us a blacksmith.¡±  He looked back at the ogres.  ¡°Would these idiots help?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±  Rikkard said.  ¡°We¡¯ll leave in three days.  It will take a little to gather a small force to take with us.¡±


    ¡°Thug.¡±  Paul looked up at the cowering ogre.  ¡°You will follow Rikkard to the human lands and raid them for slaves.¡±


    ¡°Eat what we kill?¡±  Thug asked.  The other ogres perked up at hearing the possibility of a winnable fight and food.


    ¡°Yes, sure, but only kill those Rikkard says you can.¡±  Turning back to Rikkard Paul finally said, ¡°Let¡¯s go home.¡±

 013

    Grag¡¯s POV


    Grag shivered slightly.  It wasn¡¯t cold, but he had never been on a raid before.  The Master had made him chief of Gravewell and now he had to prove himself to the other goblins of the village.


    Rikkard was leading the raid.  He was an imposing figure and intimidated even the ogres a little.  The Master had made him a ring that let Rikkard understand and speak all languages so he could command the ogres and interrogate the human about the blacksmith.  Crag looked down at his own translator ring.


    He shivered again.


    ¡°Listen up!¡±  Rikkard yelled to the ogres.  ¡°We are here to capture slaves.  We are only killing those that need killing.  Do you understand?¡±


    The all nodded their affirmatives.  There were six of the giant creatures.  Crag knew that now from his lessons on how to count from Krelgr.  The entire raiding party had sixty goblins, mixed from all the villages the Master had conquered and ten hobgoblins, including Rikkard.


    The hobgoblin proved to be masterful at getting all of the goblins to work together out of fear of the Master.  The hobgoblins walked with their noses up at the goblins, and a little at the ogres.  The ogres didn¡¯t seem to mind, but the goblins were even more cowed by the regular hostility of the hobgoblins.


    Rikkard had told them that the hobgoblins were favored by the Master because they were bigger and smarter, and mor disciplined in combat.  Crag could tell the goblins from Rikkard¡¯s village.  They stood stiffly and ready for combat in a nice line.  The rest of the goblins just milled about waiting to be told what to do.


    The hobgoblin chief finally addressed the goblins in the raiding party.  ¡°Alight, listen up mud-lickers.  This isn¡¯t a normal raid.  We are looking for someone.  Someone special!  A blacksmith lives in this village.  He is special!  That means he is worth a thousand of you.


    ¡°We are going to sneak into the village.  I don¡¯t expect you to know what a forge is, but there will be no killing until we find it.  We are going to sneak into the village quietly locate the forge, take the blacksmith and his family.  Then, and only then, can you bring Zugnorak¡¯s fury down on them.  Do you understand?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±  Grag said with the rest of them, even though he was unsure about what a blacksmith was.


    Grag wished he had the courage to ask, but he was not only afraid of looking stupid, he was worried that stupidity would get him killed.  Sticking close to Rikkard may take him towards the front of battle, but it would also allow him to know who to kill and who to let live.  It would also help keep him alive if Rikkard killed everyone who came near him.


    A warmth radiated its way through Grag.  It might have been the gnawing panic in his mind, but it couldn¡¯t be, it seemed to give him a little courage.  As the warmth passed his hands and feet, he felt the instinctual nee to draw it into himself.  It came to him slowly, but left him just as quickly.  Making every effort to keep it in, Grag almost missed the order to move into the village, looking for the blacksmith.


    ¡°Move in quietly.  We want as few villagers creating a ruckus as possible.  Rowdy human move about and it will be easier to find the smith in his smithy.¡±  Rikkard said before moving forward.  ¡°Drekkar, take our forces to the left and come down on the village from that way.¡±


    ¡°Yes, chief.¡±  Drekkar responded before motioning for the thirty highly disciplined goblins to follow him.


    As they got closer to the village, Grag could feel the heat inside burn even hotter.  He tried to stay close to Rikkard, to avoid any mistakes, but started to fall a little behind.  Sweat got all over his face and began to get in his eyes.  Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they reached the first building of the village.  Picking up his pace a little, Grag felt like he was running.


    ¡°There.¡±  Rikkard pointed at a building.


    Part of the building was made of stone and was two stories tall.  Connected to the building was an open overhang.  Under the overhang was what looked like to be a bunch of metal objects that Grag assumed were tools of the trade.


    ¡°We are going to capture, alive, everyone in that building.¡±  Rikkard said.


    Rikkard tested the door and it appeared locked.  With ease he rammed it with his shoulder and it opened.  He rushed in with the other hobgoblins.  There was screaming from inside the hut.  Within moments the screaming stopped and Rikkard emerged with an older woman in tow.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    His hobgoblin companions walked out as well.  There were five adults, two males and three females, and five children.  The children sobbed quietly.


    ¡°Please don¡¯t kill us.¡±  The oldest looking woman begged.


    ¡°Do as you are told and you will live.¡±  Rikkard replied.  ¡°How many people live in this village?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±  The woman replied.


    Rikkard grabbed her by the face and growled.  ¡°Looks like you will make a tasty treat for my friends here.¡±  He forced her to look at the ogres.


    ¡°90, maybe 100, I think.¡±  One of the younger of the two men said.


    Grag wasn¡¯t good at telling the ages of humans, but the man looked to be the oldest in the bunch with grey hairs on his head and beard.  Like the younger male, he was built strong with powerful muscles.  The oldest man must have been the smith and they younger man was probably his apprentice.


    ¡°Are there other smiths in the village?¡±  Grag asked.


    He could feel the heat continue to grow.


    ¡°No.¡±  The older man said.  ¡°Just me and my son Royce.


    ¡°Are there any magic users, or anyone that could cause problems?¡±  Grag asked.


    For a long moment no one answered.  They just all stood there looking at each other and the ground.


    ¡°You heard the goblin!¡±  Rikkard snapped.  ¡°People of note.  Who are they?¡±  He shook the woman he was holding hard.


    The woman burst into tears.  ¡°Um, there is an alchemist named Gideon, Gideon Blackwood.¡±  Rikkard stopped shaking her.


    ¡°Anyone else?¡±  He asked.


    ¡°The firewood maker has a bad temper and likes to fight.¡±  The older man said.  ¡°He could give you trouble.¡±


    ¡°See that wasn¡¯t so hard, was it?¡±  Rikkard asked.  ¡°Go capture everyone you can.  If you come across the alchemist, try to keep him alive, the commander will want to talk to him.¡±


    Screams started coming from the village¡¯s east side where Drekkar had gone.  ¡°Looks like they know we are here.  Go quickly.¡±  He pointed at the anvil and tools of the blacksmith, then looked at the ogres.  ¡°Grab all you can carry; he is going to need it.¡±


    ¡°Stop!¡±  A man with an axe said.


    As Grag looked at the man he could feel the heat in him get warmer.  ¡°Surrender.¡±  He stuttered at the man.


    ¡°Never!¡±  He yelled.  ¡°Don¡¯t worry Joyce, I¡¯ll save you.¡±  Then he began to run at the group.


    ¡°Kill him.¡±  Rikkard said.  ¡°Last thing we need is trouble makers in the slave pens.¡±


    Shaking with fear Grag stood with his spear at the ready.


    ¡°Die, creatures of darkness!¡±  The woodcutter yelled raising his axe above his head getting ready to strike Grag down.


    Rikkard barked out a laugh.


    Grag was sweating so bad he couldn¡¯t even see.  His entire body got warm and he could barely think.  He dropped his spear.


    ¡°What are you doing Grag, you plan to kill the human with your bare hands?¡±  Rikkard asked.


    The heat seemed to burst within him and traveled into the ground.  It shot as such a speed it was hard to keep track of it.  The heat stopped at was seemed like a giant orb of heat and pressure.  Inside himself he could feel a connection between him and this, this source.  He knew what it was.  It was the source of fire magic, and now he was tethered to it.  Grag was connected to the source.


    He drew on the power from the source, but he felt full.  He was no longer confused about what was going on.  Slowly the fire mana that had built up within him leaked out.


    Runes began to for in his mind and he knew what to do with them.  He pushed the mana into the shape of the fire rune and lifted his hands at the woodcutter.  With spectacular flair fire jumped from his hands and caught the woodcutter in the chest.


    The woodcutter was engulfed in flames and screamed loudly as the fire ate his flesh.  The man fell to the ground and writhed around for several long moments before dying.


    ¡°Grab the axe, it will be useful.¡±  Rikkard said.


    All the ecstasy Grag felt about having gained magic quickly fled when he heard Rikkard.  Grag looked back at the hobgoblin, who in turn was staring at him.  Seeing Grag wasn¡¯t moving, one of the other goblins, ran up and grabbed the axe, he left Grag¡¯s spear at his feet.


    The rest of the raid went on without incident.  Gideon Blackwood was found and surrendered without fuss.  The captured slaves carried alchemical goods as well as smithing equipment, leaving the goblins free to poke at them with spears.


    In total 38 people were captured.  At least 17 were killed and the ogres slug the dead bodies of a few people to eat as they walked.  It looked like one or two of the humans were going to start something, but changed their minds when the ogres started eating.


    Instinctively Grag knew how to pull on his tether to gain fire mana.  He pulled on it and slowly allowed the mana to leak out before pulling more.  He had hoped he would gain more runes if he pulled on the tether more, but he had no such luck, so he only knew of the one rune.


    Rikkard kept glancing back at Grag, which made him nervous.  He never knew what to expect from the hobgoblin.  The big hobgoblin talked to Paul with some disrespect in his tone, but at the same time seemed loyal when the vampire wasn¡¯t around.


    When they were almost back to Gravewell Rikkard got close to Grag.  ¡°How long have you been able to use magic?¡±  He asked.  ¡°Having skills like magic can turn the tide of a battle.  The commander killed a great spider and two ogres with magic.  It is something to be respected and feared.¡±


    ¡°It just happened.¡±  Grag responded.  ¡°I didn¡¯t know it before the raid.¡±


    ¡°So, the commander doesn¡¯t know you have it?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°It is important he knows.¡±


    Grag merely nodded.  He was unsure if he wanted to tell Paul he had magic.  What if the master killed him as a potential upstart to his own power?  Throk once strangled a youngling for looking at him in a way that he thought was a challenge.  The ability to use magic was a far greater threat to ones power than a look.

 014

    Liora¡¯s POV


    Liora¡¯s gaze swept over the captured humans, her dark eyes glowing a faint violet in the torchlight.  The blacksmith stood silently, shoulders hunched, but his eyes darted anxiously towards his trembling wife and children.  The alchemist, by contrast, seemed eager, he gazed at Paul with a mix of fear and ambition.


    ¡®They don¡¯t know yet,¡¯ Liora thought, her lips curling into a faint smirk.  ¡®They still believe they can negotiate with us.  Fools.¡¯


    The scent of blood and ash lingered in the air, a testament to the raid¡¯s brutal efficiency.  Rikkard had orchestrated it flawlessly, and his forces returned with exactly what they wanted.  Paul¡¯s forces grow stronger by the day.  A strange flicker of pride welled up in Liora¡¯s hallow chest.


    With an eagerness not seen in any of Paul¡¯s forces, the alchemist stepped forward.  Liora leaned against the wall of Paul¡¯s hut, she crossed her arms, readying a spell, just in case.  She listened as the man spoke, his voice trembling at first, but gaining confidence as he laid out his offer.


    ¡°My name is Gideon Blackwood.  I can craft elixirs to enhance your undead, concoctions to poison your enemies, even potions to enhance your strength, my lord,¡± the alchemist said, his hands gesturing wildly.  Then after a brief pause, ¡°All I ask is¡­ your gift.  Immortality.¡±


    Liora tilted her head slightly, her glowing eyes narrowed.  ¡®Eager.  Too eager.  He¡¯s not pledging his loyalty to Paul, he¡¯s pledging it to his ambition.¡¯


    Paul¡¯s response was slow and measured, his voice smooth.  ¡°Prove your worth, and we shall see.¡±


    ¡®A dangling carrot.  Typical of him.¡¯  Liora thought, suppressing a smirk.  ¡®He¡¯ll keep the alchemist desperate and pliable for as long as he is useful.  And when he¡¯s not¡­¡¯  She let the thought drift away, already imagining the downfall of the alchemist when he stepped out of line.


    As the blacksmith and his family were brought forward, Liora focused on their reaction.  The older man was large and sturdy, his hands scarred from years of work at the forge.  His eyes betrayed his feared.  Liora wondered whose life he valued more, his own or his family.  The oldest woman, who Liora presumed was his wife, clutched five children.


    ¡°Who are you?¡±  Paul asked the man.


    ¡°I am Rupert Greystone; this is my wife Sylvia and my apprentice Marcus Vine.  Marcus is married to my eldest daughter Elia¡­¡±


    ¡°Fine, fine, fine.¡±  Paul said.  ¡°What do you need to build me a fortress and weapons for my army?¡±


    ¡°Your¡­¡±  The Rupert looked around, ¡°men, brought my tools.  If I can get some help, it wont take more than two weeks.  The hardest part will be the hearth.¡±


    ¡°Rikkard, do you have a hobgoblin that can oversee the construction of a forge?¡±  Paul asked.


    ¡°Drekkar can do it.  The goblins already know him from the raid.  He is a good leader.¡±  Rikkard answered.


    Paul spoke calmly, almost kindly, but Liora knew better.  ¡°Your family will be safe here as long as you do your part.  Forge weapons for my army and tools for my builders, and no harm will come to them, or you.¡±


    ¡®A wise choice,¡¯ Liora thought.  ¡®He has no delusions of rebellion.  Not unlike the others.¡¯  Her gaze flickered to the children, huddled close to their mother.  A brief, unfamiliar pang stirred in her, quickly smothered.  ¡®Its better to serve Paul than die resisting.¡¯This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    The blacksmith and his family were ushered out.  The only ones left in the hut were Rikkard, Grag, Paul, and Liora.  Throughout the proceedings, Liora¡¯s heightened senses caught every twitch and fidget from Grag.  He was clearly nervous, more so than usual, and his avoidance of Paul¡¯s gaze was telling.


    Rikkard opened his mouth to speak, a smug look in his eyes.  Liora shifted her gaze to Grag.  She could feel the panic rolling off him, even before he blurted out, ¡°I can use magic!¡±


    The room fell silent.


    Paul¡¯s crimson eyes turned towards the goblin; his expression unreadable at first.  Slowly, he tilted his head.  ¡°Magic?¡±  He repeated, his voice soft but laced with curiosity.  ¡°Explain.¡±


    Grag hesitated, his hands trembling.  ¡°I¡­ I discovered it during the raid.  Fire.  I can call a bolt of fire.  I didn¡¯t know what it was at first, but,¡± He paused, his voice breaking under the weight of his fear.  ¡°I swear, Master, I didn¡¯t mean to hide it!  I was afraid of what you would think.  But I¡¯ll serve you however I can.¡±


    Liora¡¯s gaze shifted to Paul.  To her surprise, his expression shifted, not to anger or suspicion, but to something far rarer among the undead: excitement.


    Paul rose from his makeshift throne and stepped closer to Grag; his eyes gleamed with genuine interest.  ¡°Show me.¡±  He said simply, but there was a faint smile playing on his lips now, something almost eager.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure how to control it.¡±  Grag said hesitantly.


    ¡°Then we will go outside.¡±  The small group walked outside.


    Paul had been in control of Gravewell for almost six weeks now.  In that time the population had doubled and the number of buildings had increased exponentially.  The goblins warriors that were trusted enough to have weapons and undead in their command patrolled the narrowing streets.


    Paul summoned a zombie.  ¡°Target him.¡±  Paul motioned to the zombie.


    Grag hesitated, then slowly extended a shaky hand.  A small flicker of fire erupted on the zombie.


    For a moment, Paul said nothing, simply watching the flames.  Then he nodded, and the faint smile grew wider.  ¡°Remarkable,¡± he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.  ¡°A goblin sorcerer.  I did not expect this.¡±


    Grag dropped to his knees and bowed low.  ¡°I swear Master I didn¡¯t know I could do this.  I serve you I swear.¡±  The small goblin was shaking like a leaf.


    Paul¡¯s tone softened, a rare thing Liora seldom witnessed.  ¡°Get up Grag.  You¡¯ve proven your worth and loyalty.¡±


    Grag lifted his head cautiously, his wide eyes meeting Paul¡¯s gaze.


    Paul crouched lightly, looking Grag directly in the eyes.  ¡°Magic is a gift, and now you are more valuable to me than ever.  I will teach you, apprentice, but you must swear loyalty, not just to me, but to the kingdom we are building.¡±


    Grag¡¯s eyes lit with something akin to hope, ¡°I swear Master.¡±


    Liora felt a flicker of amusement.  ¡®He¡¯s enjoying this.  Paul hasn¡¯t been this pleased in weeks.  Perhaps it¡¯s the thought of molding Grag into something greater, or simply having an apprentice to shape in his image.¡¯


    Paul used his own magic to extinguish the flame, which did little to destroy the zombie, then addressed those who were gathered.  ¡°Grag¡¯s magic will strengthen us.  I expect you all to recognize his value.  And you,¡± he added, turning to Grag, ¡°will train alongside me when time allows.  You have much to learn, and I intend to see that you master your tether.¡±


    Grag nodded furiously, his nervousness replaced by something more determined.


    As the group dispersed, Liora lingered in the shadows, watching Paul speak quietly to Grag, offering advice on control and discipline.  It was strange seeing him this encouraging, even kind in his own way.


    ¡®He¡¯s truly pleased,¡¯ she thought.  ¡®Not just for the magic itself, but for the chance to shape Grag into something greater.  He¡¯s building more than an army, he¡¯s building loyalty.  Grag will fight harder than anyone else for the master who valued him.¡¯


    But Liora had a twinge of suspicion.  ¡®Power changes people.  Even, if not especially, goblins.  Paul may see potential, but I¡¯m watching for ambition.  The fire tether is as dangerous as it is volatile.¡¯


    Later, when she and Paul stood alone in his hut, Liora voiced her thoughts.  ¡°You seemed pleased with Grag today.¡±


    Paul smirked faintly, his red eyes glinting.  ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t I be?  Magic is rare among goblins, and rarer among those already loyal to me.  He¡¯s a rough gem, but gems can be polished.¡±


    Liora nodded, hiding her own doubts.  ¡°I hope your faith is rewarded, Master.  But if it isn¡¯t, you know I will deal with him.¡±


    Paul chuckled softly; his tone sharp.  ¡°Oh, I have no doubt, Liora.  Your always here for me.¡±

 015

    Paul¡¯s POV


    With the blacksmith firmly in hand, construction of the keep began with haste.  Paul watched the sight for a moment as goblins led skeletons and zombies in digging efforts.  Several of the goblins had gained a lot of skill controlling the undead with their time spend patrolling and building the wall.  Both Howard, the master builder, and Rikkard recommended the digging of a ditch about 100 feet from the wall.  Undead were working on that as well.


    ¡°Master.¡±  Grag¡¯s voice called from behind.


    ¡®Ah, yes, training.¡¯  Paul thought.


    He turned to see Grag looking up at him.  The small goblin was shaking like a leaf.  Paul wanted to think it was excitement, but knew better, the goblin was afraid of him.  It was a good sign for maintaining loyalty, but he wandered what it would look like for his training.


    Paul had learned wizardry at the Wizard¡¯s Tower in Angla¡¯s capital city, Angla¡­  He didn¡¯t have much in the realm of materials to teach Grag from.  Back in the Tower, they had parchment and ink to scribe their own spells before practicing in person.  They also had books.  Plenty of books.


    Gravewell, on the other hand, was deeply lacking in resources.  Paul had brought with him plenty of books, Alaric¡¯s entire library, but they were mostly books of lore and necromancy.  Books that dealt in death magic and the magic of vampires.


    The only spellbooks Paul had were Alaric¡¯s which dealt in death and air tethers and runes, and his own spellbook.  Luckily for Grag, Paul had a fire tether and knew several fire runes.    Most of his extra parchment and ink was going to the builders to construct the keep and wall, so Grag would have to make due drawing in the dirt.


    ¡°Hello Grag.¡±  Paul said.  ¡°We will start your lessons right away.  According to Krelgr you are quite lucky, goblins don¡¯t usually manifest magic.¡±  Paul turned to Grag.  ¡°This is where you thank me for my time.¡±


    ¡°Thank you?¡±  Grag asked.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s thank you?¡±


    ¡°Thank you is where your appreciative of something being done for you.¡±  Paul responded.


    ¡°What appreciative?¡±


    ¡°What is wrong with your race?¡±  Paul asked with some irritation.  ¡°Its when I do something nice, like train you in magic, and not kill you.  You say, thank you.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Master.¡±


    ¡°Very good.¡±  Paul walked to a clear place outside his hut and handed Grag a straight stick he had grabbed earlier.  ¡°Now draw the rune you saw to cast your spell.¡±


    ¡°The what?¡±  Grag asked.


    ¡°Runes are like words you use to cast spells.¡±  Paul said calmly.  He had a lot of similar questions when he first started learning magic.  Using his own stick he drew the symbol for light.  ¡°This is a rune.  You don¡¯t have to fear using magic from just drawing them.  They require mana from a tether to activate.¡±


    Slowly and with a shaky hand, Grag drew his rune.  Paul watched with interest.  Grag drew the ignite rune.  It was a rune Paul already had.  He had a faint hope, Grag had gained a rune he didn¡¯t know, but there was no such luck.


    ¡°Very good.¡±  Paul called on fire mana.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    Slowly he traced the ignite rune in the air, pushing fire mana into it, then let loose on a target he set up.  The target lit up easily.


    ¡°By pulling on your tethers and storing the acquired mana in your core, you can trace runes to cast spells.¡±  Paul traced the ignite rune again and nothing happened.


    ¡°But I didn¡¯t trace the rune in the air like that before using it.¡±  Grag said.  ¡°The spell just happened.¡±


    ¡°If you can hold the exact image if the runes you are using in your mind, you can cast the spell that way.¡±  Paul said.  ¡°But if you are thinking of the wrong rune, or hold the image wrong, the spell could cause psychic backlash and the mana will burn you.  If you trace the spell wrong in the air, it just doesn¡¯t work.¡±  Paul started running his hand through his beard.  ¡°It can be faster and doesn¡¯t let your enemies know what you are casting his hold the image in your mind, but it is more dangerous.


    ¡°Plus, this was your first casting.  A new rune appears in your mind when you use a tether for the first time.  It¡¯s rare now, but there used to be a time when almost every wizard had a new rune and traded what they know to others for those they didn¡¯t know.  Now there are schools, like in Angla, that teach wizards so the kingdom can have a mass of magical firepower.


    ¡°Apprentices are rare these days.  At least in the civilized lands.  I hope one day there will be a school here in Gravewell.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Master.¡±  Grag said.


    ¡°And there you go, learning already!¡±  Paul laughed.


    ¡°To start we will train by pulling mana from your fire tether.¡±  Paul said.  ¡°Once you can pull a little mana, we will have you ignite things.¡±


    Paul sat cross-legged *on the ground by the spell dummy.  Eagerly, Grag sat down as well.  Paul stretched out his hands for Grag to take.  After a moment of hesitation, Grag grabbed Paul¡¯s hands.


    ¡°Good,¡± Paul said. ¡°Now, listen carefully. To pull mana from your tether, you need focus. Close your eyes.¡±


    Grag obeyed, his face scrunching in concentration. Paul felt the faintest ripple of magic, a fragile thread, like a spark struggling to catch.


    ¡°Think of fire,¡± Paul instructed, his voice steady. ¡°Not just flames, but what fire is. Heat, light, hunger. Imagine it flowing into you, filling your core.¡±


    Grag¡¯s breathing quickened. A faint warmth flickered against Paul¡¯s palms, and a small, orange glow shimmered in the air between them.


    Paul allowed himself a rare smile. ¡°Good. That¡¯s the start. Keep pulling, slowly, or you¡¯ll burn yourself out.  Burning out is a painful experience.¡±  Paul smiled again, ¡°You are likely to burn out several times while training.¡±


    Grag opened his eyes and gasped at the glow floating between them.  It sputtered out in a slow uneventful fit.  ¡°I¡¯ve never seen anything like this from you, Master.¡±


    ¡°Just like casting runes from your mind, you can learn to hide the other tell-tell signs of casting.¡±  Paul said.  ¡°Now if you¡¯ll notice, the mana you called should be leaking out of you, reconnecting with the ether.


    ¡°By using your tether, you strengthen that tether and can pull more mana from the source.  To be able to hold more mana, you need to try and trap the mana in your core, strengthening it.¡±


    ¡°Can I ever gain more tethers, like you?¡±  Grag asked.


    ¡°There are ways.¡±  Paul said.  ¡°They say exposer to tether related things, like fire, can grant you access to a tether, or just magic in general.  Like you, but if that was always the case, why doesn¡¯t everyone have the air tether?  Others like the death tether can be gained by gaining undeath.  Celestia or infernal tethers can be gained from sufficient worship of the gods.


    ¡°You are a curious case.  I was born with the fire, air, and earth tethers.  I gained the death tether when I became a vampire.  The wizards in the tower impressed and as far as I know, no one gained tethers they never had access to.  They did test people, who used a tether to see if they had others they didn¡¯t know about, but I was never privy to that information.¡±


    ¡°I could have access to other tethers?¡±  Grag asked.


    ¡°Most certainly.¡±  Paul said.  ¡°If I knew how to test for all the elements I would.  I might even start testing the population as a whole, but I don¡¯t know how.  I guess, meditation tests could be done, but I don¡¯t know who would test for water or life.  That is besides the point.  For now, I will work with you.  We shall see what you can do before I test all of the goblins in Gravewell and beyond.


    ¡°You will meditate.  If you suffer a burnout, it won¡¯t kill you.  Once you have built up reserves and strengthened your core, I will teach you more runes and how to use them effectively.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Master.¡±


    ¡°Very well.¡±


    With that, Paul left Grag to meditate.  It would take several weeks of strengthening his core before he can cast several spells, or cast spells while drawing mana.  Paul would check in on Grag¡¯s progress periodically.  If he showed promise, maybe he would do as Grag suggested and test more of the goblins in the village.


    Paul looked at the building site for the keep.  Maybe it was time to check on the master builder.

 016

    Paul¡¯s POV


    Paul made his way to the new keep¡¯s motte in the making.  There he found Howard, the master builder, directing workers in how the motte was supposed to be.


    ¡°How is the keep coming along?¡±  Paul asked, ¡°How long until work on the actual keep begins?¡±


    ¡°With the large fort, library, and shrine, it will take another two months to build the motte.  Work can start on the fort immediately after that.  Should take a month to build them once the motte is done.¡±  The man walked over to a large tent covering some parchment on a table.


    On the parchment were two simple large square buildings.  One said library and the other said keep.  Paul flipped through the parchment under them and there were designs of the interior of the buildings.  He was not overly impresses.  The tower in Angla was a massive stone project, and Angla had a massive stone castle.


    ¡°Can they not be made more¡­ grand?¡±  Paul asked.


    ¡°Grander how, my lord?¡±  Howard responded.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, like in Angla.¡±  Paul said.  ¡°Have you seen their castles and forts?¡±


    ¡°I have, my lord, but a grand stone castle or keep would require more materials.¡±  Howard picked up a drawing of the keep.  ¡°Angla has access to stone and steel.  We only have wood and scrap iron and steel.  The only blacksmith we have is working double time with his apprentice to try and keep up with us.  I was on a project in Angla once where they had 30 smiths.  Also, we don¡¯t have a mason.¡±


    Paul frowned; his crimson eyes glowing.  The plainness of the drawing irritated him.  The faint noises of digging irritated him more than ever now that he saw what the final project would be.


    ¡°This will not do.¡±  Paul replied coldly, his voice was quiet, but sharp enough to cut through the air.  ¡°I did not conquer villages and enslave men, goblins, hobgoblins, and ogres, to produce mediocrity.¡±  He waved his hand over the parchment.


    Howard stiffened; the weariness of his workday momentarily replaced by a subtle unease. ¡°My lord, I understand your frustrations, but¡­¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Paul interrupted, his tone sharper. ¡°You do not understand. What I build here must endure. It must inspire dread in my enemies and awe in those who serve me. A wooden fort? A box for books? That¡¯s not awe. That¡¯s... mediocrity.¡±


    Howard swallowed, choosing his next words carefully. ¡°My lord, I can design something grander. But without the resources of Angla or Reinstrowd, we can only build with what we have¡ªwood and scrap. Unless you secure a quarry or bring in masons and smiths, there are limits to what we can achieve.¡±


    Paul narrowed his eyes. He hated the sound of limits, especially when they stood between him and his goals. His gaze flicked to the edges of the camp where goblins, ogres, and enslaved humans toiled in the shadow of the rising motte. His forces were growing, yes, but they were still primitive, barely a shadow of the grand armies he imagined leading one day.


    ¡°Fine.  Build this, but design a grander project.  One day we will be as great as Angla, and one day¡­¡±  Paul stroked his hand through his beard.


    ¡°Yes, my lord.¡±  Howard said, sounding relieved.


    Paul left the tent, his crimson eyes flickering with barely restrained frustration. The skeletal trees of the Deepwood stretched around him, their gnarled branches clawing at the sky like the twisted aspirations he harbored. Liora emerged from the shadows near the edge of the clearing, her translucent form gliding toward him like smoke caught in a stray breeze. Her dark, ethereal eyes met his, and a faint smirk tugged at the corner of her lips.


    ¡°Howard seemed eager to crawl out of your presence,¡± she remarked, her voice smooth and laced with amusement. ¡°You¡¯ve a talent for inspiring both loyalty and terror, Paul.¡±


    ¡°He should be terrified,¡± Paul replied, his voice edged with irritation. ¡°He speaks of limits as though they¡¯re immutable truths. Wood and scrap? Mediocrity, all of it.¡± He gestured toward the motte-in-progress, the faint noise of hammers and shovels underscoring his frustration. ¡°This will never suffice. Not for what I envision.¡±


    ¡°And what do you envision?¡± Liora asked, tilting her head curiously. Her spectral form shimmered faintly in the twilight.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    Paul paused, his gaze drifting beyond the motte toward the distant horizon. ¡°A fortress that rivals Angla¡¯s grandest towers. A place that embodies power and permanence. I want black stone walls that rise like mountains, a library that holds the secrets of eternity, a shrine where Shiiraviia herself would deign to dwell. Not just a keep, an empire''s heart.¡±


    Liora¡¯s smirk widened, and she folded her arms. ¡°Grand aspirations, as always. But even you must admit the irony, this empire of yours begins with goblins, wood, and a builder who likely dreams of simpler projects.¡±


    Paul shot her a sidelong glance, his lips curling into a faint, humorless smile. ¡°Empires begin as ashes, Liora. It¡¯s the will to rise from them that defines greatness.¡±


    She nodded, her tone turning thoughtful. ¡°And yet, greatness requires patience. You cannot conjure black stone and masons from thin air, no matter how much power you wield. The Deepwood is no Angla. It¡¯s a savage frontier, your frontier. Perhaps you should embrace that for now.¡±


    Paul frowned, considering her words. He hated to admit it, but she wasn¡¯t wrong. The Deepwood was a land of untamed chaos, its denizens little more than beasts and savages. And yet, there was potential here, a raw, malleable power waiting to be shaped.


    ¡°Patience is not a virtue I enjoy,¡± Paul muttered, though his tone softened slightly.


    ¡°Then channel your impatience,¡± Liora replied. ¡°Build your empire in steps. Strengthen your forces, seize better resources, and let your enemies fear what you will become. Let Angla¡¯s lords¡¯ quake at the rumors of the king rising from the Deepwood.¡±


    Paul¡¯s smile returned, this time with genuine satisfaction. ¡°The king,¡± he echoed, testing the title on his tongue. ¡°I rather like the sound of that.¡±


    Liora¡¯s laughter was light and haunting, like the wind through hollowed reeds. ¡°Good. Now stop sulking over Howard¡¯s practicalities. You have bigger conquests to plan.¡±


    Paul nodded, his frustration melting into cold determination. The motte and its wooden fort might be a humble beginning, but it was just that, a beginning. One day, the world would look upon his fortress, his empire, and tremble. And Liora, as always, would be there to remind him that empires were not built in a day, but they could be destroyed in one.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go see this blacksmith.¡±  Paul said.


    Paul turned, the weight of his ambitions settling back into place like a mantle of purpose.  Liora followed, her spectral form gliding effortlessly beside him.


    ¡°Do you think this blacksmith will meet your lofty expectations?¡± she asked, her tone tinged with mild sarcasm.


    ¡°If he doesn¡¯t, he¡¯ll learn quickly,¡± Paul replied coldly.  ¡°Or he¡¯ll serve another purpose.¡±


    They strode through the camp, the makeshift settlement alive with activity.  Goblins hauled logs toward the construction site, ogres stacked massive timbers with casual ease, and enslaved humans moved in hushed silence.  All of them avoided Paul¡¯s gaze, his very presence a constant reminder of their servitude.


    The blacksmith¡¯s workshop was a crude affair, a lean-to of rough-hewn wood sheltering an anvil, a small forge, and a scattering of tools. Smoke billowed from the forge, carrying the acrid scent of burning coal. Inside, the blacksmith, a burly human with soot-streaked skin and a perpetually furrowed brow, worked tirelessly, hammering a jagged piece of scrap metal into something resembling a blade.


    Paul stepped into the workshop, his shadow stretching long against the firelight.  The blacksmith looked up, his hammer stilling mid-swing.


    ¡°My lord,¡± the man greeted, his voice cautious but steady.  He set the hammer down and wiped his hands on a filthy rag.


    Paul¡¯s crimson eyes flicked over the workspace, taking in the crude tools and the pile of misshapen weapons and broken armor waiting for repair.  ¡°Is this the best you can manage?¡± he asked, his tone deceptively mild.


    The blacksmith hesitated, his jaw tightening.  ¡°With respect, my lord, this is what I have to work with. Scrap metal, a forge barely hot enough for iron, and no proper tools.  I can make serviceable weapons and repair armor, but fine craftsmanship requires better materials.¡±


    Paul¡¯s lips pressed into a thin line.  ¡°Excuses seem to be contagious in this camp,¡± he muttered.


    ¡°My lord,¡± Liora interjected smoothly, her voice cutting through the tension.  ¡°You cannot build an empire without investing in its foundation.  Even the greatest smiths need proper tools and materials to shape greatness.¡±


    Paul turned to her, his frustration flickering briefly before giving way to grudging acceptance. ¡°Fine,¡± he said, returning his attention to the blacksmith.  ¡°What do you need to make this forge worthy of my ambitions?¡±


    The blacksmith blinked, caught off guard by the question. He quickly composed himself, his tone gaining confidence.  ¡°A steady supply of quality iron and steel, proper hammers and tongs, a larger anvil, and a hotter forge.  And if I may, my lord, more hands.  An apprentice alone won¡¯t be enough to keep up with the demand of your growing army.¡±


    Paul nodded slowly, his mind already turning over possibilities.  ¡°I¡¯ll see that you get what you need. But understand this: I do not tolerate failure.  If you cannot rise to meet my expectations, you¡¯ll be replaced.¡±


    The blacksmith swallowed hard but nodded.  ¡°I won¡¯t fail you, my lord.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± Paul said, his voice cold and final.  ¡°I¡¯ll expect progress.¡±


    As he turned to leave, Liora¡¯s ghostly laughter followed him.  ¡°You¡¯re learning,¡± she said, her tone half-teasing.


    ¡°I have no choice,¡± Paul replied, his expression darkening.  ¡°An empire is only as strong as the hands that build it.¡±


    ¡°And the mind that leads it,¡± Liora added, her tone softening.  ¡°Don¡¯t forget that, Paul. They may be your tools, but you are the architect.¡±


    Paul¡¯s lips curved into a faint smile, the weight of her words settling into him like a seed taking root.  ¡°Let¡¯s hope they¡¯re sharp tools,¡± he said, glancing back at the workshop.


    ¡°They¡¯ll have to be,¡± Liora murmured.  ¡°Or they¡¯ll break under the pressure.¡±

 017

    Paul¡¯s POV


    Paul called a council together to discuss the lack of iron in his territory.  He had a representative of each goblin village, as well as Rikkard, Grag, Liora, the alchemist, named Gideon, and Krelgr.  He hoped each knew enough about iron to know what it was and how they were going to get it.


    ¡°Welcome.¡±  Paul started, ¡°I have gathered you al here to discuss our sorry state of iron.  We need more to keep our weapons ready and to build fortifications.  So, I¡¯ll put it simply, does anyone have ideas on where we could get iron from?¡±


    They were all quiet for a moment before one of the chiefs of a conquered village spoke up, ¡°When we need things we can¡¯t get we get more from raids.¡±


    ¡°While raids may solve the problem in the short term, we are looking for a more permanent solution.¡±  Paul said.


    ¡°There used to be an iron mine in the forest.  It was a few weeks travel west from here, but it has been abandoned for years.  Monsters lair there now.¡±  Rikkard said.


    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m talking about.¡±  Paul said.  ¡°A mine is perfect.¡±


    ¡°A few weeks travel west, means that many hostile tribes between us and it.¡±  Liora said.  ¡°We would need to send scouts to find the mine, then take all the tribes between us and it.¡±


    ¡°That shouldn¡¯t be a problem.¡±  Paul said.  ¡°Our forces have only grown stronger recently.¡±


    ¡°Unless we run into a village like the Blood Fangs.¡±  Liora said.


    The Blood Fangs were the hobgoblins who used celestial magic against Liora in their early days of being in the Deepwood.  They had a village of at least 100 hobgoblins and maybe twice that in slaves of various species.  Paul had been gathering information on the village and their leader, Grognak, and their priest of Zugnorak, Char.


    Char was a powerful priest of Zugnorak.  His tether was strong enough that he could summon enough power to purge Liora.  Paul wanted to know if he could personally resist.  He couldn¡¯t risk his undead soldiers though.  If Char was powerful enough to purge Liora, he would probably shatter Paul¡¯s other undead forces.


    The rest of his army was about 60 goblins, 10 hobgoblins, and 6 ogres.  He wasn¡¯t sure if his army could win.  Rikkard was confident that a single hobgoblin could kill at least 10 goblins each and if things looked too grim, his goblin forces might just flee the field.


    ¡°Any other ideas?¡±  Paul asked.


    ¡°There is a bog southwest of here.¡±  Gideon said.  ¡°It is only a few days from Gravewell.¡±


    ¡°What of it?¡±  Paul asked.


    ¡°With a mine so close, a bog in the area might have bog iron.¡±  Gideon replied.


    ¡°Do you know of this bog, Rikkard?¡±  Paul asked.


    ¡°Yes.  Sometimes we trade with the lissik there.¡±  Rikkard said.


    ¡°What¡¯s a lissik?¡±  Paul asked.


    ¡°They are froglike creatures, often called bog goblins.¡±  Rikkard scratched his cheek.  ¡°But I¡¯ve never heard of bog iron before.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a red spongy stone.¡±  Gideon said excitedly.  ¡°I can point it out if we get to the bog and your¡­ bog goblins don¡¯t know what it is.  Bogs are also a great place to find rare herbs.¡±Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°Alight.  Rikkard arrange for scouts to go to the bog.  It will be our first target.¡±  Paul said.  ¡°We will scout the villages between here and there.  If they won¡¯t be too much trouble we won¡¯t have to march too many troops down to the bog.  Any guesses how the lissik will react to us?¡±


    ¡°Hard to say.¡±  Rikkard replied.  ¡°They aren¡¯t a particularly rowdy bunch.  As far as I know the hobgoblin and goblin tribes haven¡¯t attacked into the bog.  Why bother?  There are easier targets in easier terrain to navigate.¡±  Rikkard looked at the gathered goblin chiefs.  ¡°Have any of you attacked into the bog?¡±


    They all shook their heads.  The gathered chiefs didn¡¯t seem like the bravest bunch.  Paul had left the goblin villages to manage themselves, as long as they paid tribute and supplied soldiers for his army.


    A commotion started outside, causing Paul to lose his train of thought.  Soon there was loud yelling and screeching.  A small goblin ran into the hut.


    ¡°Master, master, there is a vampire at the edge of the village.  She says she needs to talk to you.¡±  He said.


    ¡°Another vampire?¡±  Liora said.  ¡°Do we know any other vampires?¡±


    ¡°Not that I am aware of.¡±  Paul said, a little confused who could possibly know he was here.  Not wanting to look indecisive in front of his troops he said, ¡°Let¡¯s go see who this vampire is.¡±


    Paul and his followers left the hut and followed the goblin to where the vampire awaited.


    At the edge of the village was a female elf in black robes with silver runes stitched into it.  The most fascinating part of her was her eyes, they were purple orbs of flame.  She had long silver hair tied back in a ponytail, reaching down to her waist.  Her nails were long and slightly intimidating.  Paul couldn¡¯t tell why it affected him that way.


    The woman was surrounded by goblins with spears.  You wouldn¡¯t know it from the look of her.  A look of mild amusement was on her face.  When she noticed Paul, however, her face lit up.


    ¡°I am High Priestess Eryndral.¡±  She said loud enough for them all to hear.  ¡°It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Paul.¡±


    Liora¡¯s shadowy figure darkened slightly as she stepped closer to Paul.  ¡°High Priestess, is it?  What brings you to the heart of the Deepwood looking for Paul?¡±


    ¡°I have had a vision from Shiiraviia.¡±  Eryndral raised her hands to the sky.  ¡°Through her you have conquered part of the Deepwood.  She would see you defeat all the Deepwood, and maybe the world, but she needs more worshippers.  I have been sent to convert the souls of the Deepwood to her worship.¡±


    ¡°We are already working on converting goblins to Shiiraviia¡¯s worship.¡±  Paul said.


    ¡°Yes, and you have had a little success in Gravewell, but what about the rest of your kingdom?¡±  Eryndral said.  ¡°What have you done with the rest of your kingdom?  I can create priests of Shiiraviia to spread her worship faster.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of priests and priestesses of Shiiraviia.¡±  Liora said.


    She has priestesses and priests alike, as well as prophets, like me.¡±   Eryndral said.  ¡°Shiiraviia had put some eggs in the Alaric basket, but you know how that turned out.  Now she plans on using you.¡±


    ¡°Why would Shiiraviia be interested in me?¡±  Paul asked.


    ¡°She is interested in all her worshippers, as she has so few.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I mean and you know it.¡±  Paul replied.


    ¡°Shiiraviia knows you will become great and wants in before you forget your allegiance.¡±  Eryndral said.


    Paul watched Eryndral for a time.  He could see some merit to what she was saying.  The priestess also knew a lot about him and his forces.  He had never personally felt overly called to Shiiraviia.  He worshipped her as a vampire because Alaric did.  Still, it was daunting to thing a goddess was watching him closely.


    ¡°Let her pass.¡±  Paul finally said.


    The goblin lowered their spears.  Eryndral smiled wider and stepped forward, towards Paul.  Liora got between her and Paul.


    ¡°I have other news.¡±  Eryndral said, not paying any mind to Liora.  ¡°In the mine to the west is a powerful lich.  His name is Thalarius and he is a dedicant of Shiiraviia.  He will make a powerful ally.¡±


    ¡°Thank you for the information, but for now we will get iron from a source closer to home.¡±  Paul said.


    ¡°But,¡± Eryndral started.


    ¡°But we have other considerations to make other than the mine itself.  We need iron now, and what lies between us and each target needs to be taken into consideration.¡±


    Eryndral looked like she wanted to argue more, to get Paul to the mine, but he cut her off first.


    ¡°If you want to stay and spread the word of Shiiraviia that is fine, but you will not question me.¡±  Paul stepped past Liora and closer to Eryndral, ¡°Is that understood?¡±


    Eryndral opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again.  Slowly she nodded, ¡°Understood.  I knew Shiiraviia would choose a strong leader.¡±


    ¡°Great, now there is another bloodsucker looking for a free meal.¡±  Rikkard said.


    Paul smirked as he looked back at Rikkard.  ¡°Prepare the scouts.¡±

 018

    Grag¡¯s POV


    Grag sat in Paul¡¯s tent on the floor, he was gathering mana from his fire tether.  The fire mana felt hot and smelled of smoke.  It wasn¡¯t unpleasant, but he wasn¡¯t sure if he liked it.  As the mana filled him, he felt more and more powerful.  Almost as fast as he gathered the mana, it leaked out.  Paul told him that that was normal and that as he got stronger in fire magic his anchor would become stronger.


    He breathed slowly, trying to focus on the mana trickling into him.  His tether throbbed slightly.  It was a strange sensation, there was nothing to compare with it.  It also felt strange with the mana flowing out.  He didn¡¯t understand, he had used magic before, how was this so hard.


    ¡°Focus.¡±  Paul¡¯s voice came from behind him.


    His undead master made no sound while he walked.  Paul¡¯s silence unnerved Grag a little, but he was being taught magic by him.  It was better than being just a normal servant.


    ¡°I am focusing.¡±  Grag said.  ¡°The mana is just slipping away.¡±


    Paul laughed softly.  ¡°You aren¡¯t supposed to hold it yet.  You are learning the ebb and flow of fire mana.  As you grow, your tolerance will grow with you.  Your tether is a rope, you¡¯re building your grip with these exercises.  As you practice, your strength with become stronger and your mana will stay longer.¡±


    Grag closed his eyes again with a slight huff.  He tried to imagine his tether as a rope, something tangible he could grasp and pull.  The sensation of fire mana changed slightly.  He could feel it change, becoming a little more controlled.


    ¡°That¡¯s good.¡±  Paul said approvingly.  ¡°Don¡¯t fight the mana, it is yours.  It is a part of you, you are just bringing it home, where it belongs.  If you try and force it too hard, you will simply lose more mana than you are bringing in.¡±


    Grag nodded, concentrating harder.  The fire mana became steadier.  The feel of the flame was less of an inferno blazing out of control and more of a simmering ember.  Worried the flame would die out, he tried to hold pull harder.  Then the ember flared uncontrollably and Grag lost control.


    The fire mana was lost and Grag couldn¡¯t feel it any longer.  Frustrated he slammed his fist into the ground.


    Paul raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.  ¡°You are too impatient.  Mastery takes time.  Do you think the greats all became that way over night?  Do you think I gained my strength just like that?  No, we didn¡¯t.  We all practiced.¡±


    Grag opened his eyes and looked over at Paul.  ¡°I know.  I just want to be useful, now.  I don¡¯t want to be like other goblins.¡±


    ¡°You are already unlike the other goblins.¡±  Paul said.  ¡°Your ability to use magic puts you leagues above them.¡±


    ¡°But Krelgr and the other shaman can use magic.¡±  Grag looked down feeling the weight of Paul¡¯s stare.


    ¡°Yes, but they are limited.¡±  Paul got up from his throne.  ¡°Goblins don¡¯t have established curriculums and learning centers.  They rely on master and apprentice for each village.  Krelgr knows what, 12 runes?¡±


    ¡°Maybe.¡±  Grag shrugged.


    ¡°I know hundreds.¡±  Paul walked over and picked up a book.  ¡°And what I can¡¯t remember is in here.  That is why it is also important for you to learn to read.¡±


    Paul set the book down and looked back at Grag, ¡°That is how you gain true worth and power.  Through knowledge.  Knowledge is power, the only true power.¡±


    ¡°Ok, Master.¡±  Grag looked away.  He found it hard to look at Paul sometimes.  It made him uneasy.  ¡°I¡¯ll keep trying.¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°See that you do.¡±  Paul looked at the entrance to the tent.  ¡°Remember, every failure is just another step towards success.¡±


    Grag was about to thank Paul for is lessons, as he had become accustomed, when he heard something outside the tent.


    ¡°Paul.¡±  Eryndral said as she walked into the tent.


    The vampire threw open the entrance flaps with great fanfare.   She was in her usual black robe with silver writings on it.  She never seemed to change from it.  From his vantage on the floor, Grag could see she wore boots of some kind.


    Before she could get too close to Paul, Liora appeared out of nowhere and stepped between the two.  ¡°Hold.¡±  Liora said.


    A slight smell of spring flowers followed Eryndral into the hut.  She had an elf¡¯s long pointy ears.  He knew hobgoblins hated the elves, but aren¡¯t they supposed to hate undead elves?  Now that he thought about it, Liora was an elf also.  Was undeath a natural part of being undead?


    ¡°Step aside Liora, I have to speak to Lord Paul.¡±  Eryndral said.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright Liora.¡±  Paul said.  ¡°What can I help you with Eryndral?¡±


    ¡°Why have you not sent troops to secure the mine?¡±  Eryndral asked.  ¡°I already told you there was a prospective recruit there.¡±


    ¡°Scouts report the mine is almost a month from here.¡±  Paul turned towards a piece of parchment he had laid out on a table.  ¡°There are a lot of villages between the mine and Gravewell.  There is also the Blood Fangs not too far away in the east.  It is important that we secure a source of iron for tools and weapons.¡±


    ¡°I would like to remind you the mine is an iron mine.¡±


    ¡°We know.¡±  Liora said.


    Grag shifted uncomfortably, trying to refocus on his meditation.  The flickering embers of his fire mana tugged at his awareness, but the conversation between Paul, Liora, and Eryndral pulled harder.  He clenched his fists, frustration bubbling beneath his surface.


    ¡°Why can¡¯t they talk somewhere else?¡± he muttered under his breath.


    Eryndral¡¯s presence filled the tent like a storm cloud, her commanding tone slicing through the air. ¡°The mine is crucial, Paul.  It¡¯s not just about the iron, it¡¯s about resources and leverage.  If you delay, someone else will claim it, and you¡¯ll regret it.¡±


    Paul remained calm, his voice steady.  ¡°I understand the importance of the mine, Eryndral. But rushing into it without proper preparation could cost us more than we gain.  We need to secure the surrounding areas first; ensure our supply lines are stable.  Strategy matters more than speed.¡±


    Grag glanced at the parchment Paul was studying, though he couldn¡¯t make sense of the markings from his position.  His mind wandered back to Paul¡¯s earlier words, about knowledge being power.  He thought of the goblin shamans he had once admired.  Compared to Paul¡¯s mastery, their magic felt like a child¡¯s scribbles.


    But Eryndral¡¯s frustration was palpable, her silvered robes catching the flicker of the firelight.  ¡°Every day you delay is a risk.  The Blood Fangs could take it while we sit here debating!¡±


    Liora¡¯s voice was calm but firm as she stepped forward.  ¡°The Blood Fangs are a threat we are well aware of.  Securing the mine while ignoring them would leave us vulnerable.  Lord Paul¡¯s plan accounts for the bigger picture.¡±


    Grag tried again to focus on his tether.  The warm pulse of the fire mana flickered faintly, the ember within him barely alive.  He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to pull at it gently.  It¡¯s mine, he told himself, echoing Paul¡¯s words.  It belongs here.


    But the argument continued to distract him.


    Eryndral crossed her arms, her voice laced with irritation.  ¡°Fine. But don¡¯t come complaining to me when someone else claims it.  I¡¯ve already given you fair warning.¡±


    ¡°Your warning is appreciated, as always,¡± Paul said, his tone carrying a hint of dry amusement. ¡°But I trust my scouts and my judgment.  The mine will be ours, when the time is right.¡±


    With a dramatic swish of her robes, Eryndral turned on her heel and stormed out of the tent, leaving the faint scent of spring flowers lingering behind her.


    Liora remained still, her sharp gaze following Eryndral¡¯s retreat before turning back to Paul.  ¡°Do you want me to monitor her, my lord?¡±


    Paul shook his head.  ¡°No.  She¡¯s not a threat, just impatient.  Her ambitions align with ours, at least for now.¡±


    Grag exhaled sharply, finally giving up on his meditation.  ¡°I couldn¡¯t concentrate with all that going on.¡±


    Paul chuckled softly.  ¡°That, too, is part of your training.  The world will not quiet itself for you, Grag.  You must learn to focus despite the noise.¡±


    Liora glanced at Grag, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of her lips.  ¡°He¡¯s not wrong. If you¡¯re distracted by a simple conversation, you¡¯ll struggle in the chaos of battle.¡±


    Grag glared at the floor, muttering, ¡°I¡¯m trying.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± Paul said, his voice firm.  ¡°Keep trying. Strength and discipline come from persistence.  Now, return to your practice.  The world won¡¯t wait for you to catch up.¡±


    Grag nodded, closing his eyes once more.  The ember within him flickered weakly, but he reached for it again, determined to prove he could hold it steady, even if the noise around him never stopped.

 019

    Liora¡¯s POV


    There were four villages between Gravewell and the bog.  This was the first village.  It had a small population of 50ish goblins, no hobgoblins.  The other three villages were equally small.  The scouts were confident that we could easily win.


    Paul was equally sure.  He had only brought his undead troops to add a little intimidation to the tribes on their way to the bog.  Neither of them had been to a bog before and didn¡¯t know how the undead troops would perform.


    Rikkard didn¡¯t seem confident in his own troops performing well in the bog.  He had been there before to trade for an herb found in the lissik¡¯s territory.  He didn¡¯t mention who the herb was for, Paul was beyond curious, Liora couldn¡¯t care less.


    Paul was hoping all four villages would surrender.  He had gained a liking for living servants.  They apparently had many more uses undead ones.  Liora couldn¡¯t think of any such uses, other than food, but Paul was adamant.


    Paul sat atop one of his undead steeds.  Liora was a little jealous.  She wanted a horse, but they didn¡¯t have any wraith steeds she could ride, and she would have to concentrate a lot of energy just to not fall through one of theirs.


    ¡°Next horse we come across is mine.¡±  She said.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±  Paul asked.


    Do you just want to watch me float next to you in battle or ride a majestic steed, like you?¡±  Liora said.  ¡°I¡¯m starting to wonder if you¡¯d give Rikkard a mount before me.¡±


    Paul barked a laugh.  ¡°Rikkard wouldn¡¯t ride one of the undead horses.¡±


    Liora rolled her eyes.  ¡°I see.¡±


    Rikkard stood a bit to their left with a small troop of his hobgoblins.


    In the front of the lines were the zombies and skeletons, with the goblin and ogre troops behind them.  They were all in a loose formation, ready to march forward towards the goblin village.


    A hobgoblin came running from the brush and headed straight for Rikkard.  They had a heated discussion, before Rikkard headed over to Paul and Liora.


    ¡°It appears we were expected.¡±  Rikkard said.  ¡°There are around 200 goblins gathered.  My scouts tell me they just showed up not 30 minutes ago.  We have the advantage when it come to their extra troops.  It will take them a while to get into formation, assuming they have one.¡±


    ¡°Where did all these extra troops come from?¡±  Paul asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.  I would assume the surrounding villages.  Maybe they all had a defensive pact.  Its not too common with all the infighting, but it does happen.¡±


    Paul ran a hand through his beard.  ¡°Where are they?¡±


    ¡°About an hour west.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±  As Paul spoke a goblin walked out of the brush from the west with a white flag raised.  ¡°A trick to buy time?¡±


    ¡°Most definitely.¡±  Liora said.


    ¡°Let him pass.¡±  Paul called out.


    ¡°Are you sure?¡±  Rikkard asked, ¡°We might as well kill him and move on.¡±


    ¡°If we start killing their messengers, they will start to kill ours.¡±  Paul said.


    Liora observed as the goblin with the white flag cautiously approached, its small frame trembling slightly.  Goblins weren¡¯t known for their bravery, especially when faced with an undead army.  The sight of Paul atop his skeletal steed alone was enough to sap courage from even the boldest.


    Her sharp eyes scanned the tree line behind the messenger.  ¡°I don¡¯t trust this,¡± she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.  ¡°They could be using him to distract us while they reposition.¡±


    Paul nodded, his own gaze never leaving the goblin.  ¡°Perhaps.  But every move they make reveals something.  Let¡¯s see what this one has to say.¡±


    The goblin finally reached their line, visibly shaking as he looked up at Paul. His voice was high-pitched and wavering. ¡°Great lord,¡± the goblin stuttered horribly, ¡°of the dead, I bring a message from the chieftains.¡±


    Paul leaned forward slightly in his saddle, his presence looming. ¡°Speak.¡±


    The goblin swallowed hard before continuing.  ¡°The chiefs of the villages have gathered to oppose you.  They say this land is ours, not yours.  If you leave now, they will not pursue you.  But if you advance, they will fight to the last goblin.¡±


    Liora snorted, folding her arms across her chest.  ¡°Bold words from a people who couldn¡¯t stand against a single hobgoblin village on their own.¡±


    Paul, however, appeared unfazed.  ¡°They¡¯ve united, which is more than I expected.  This changes things.¡±


    Rikkard grumbled.  ¡°It¡¯s just bluster. Goblins threaten to ¡®fight to the last¡¯ all the time.  It rarely ends that way.¡±


    Paul dismounted gracefully, his undead steed remaining unnervingly still behind him.  He walked closer to the messenger, his dark cloak trailing in the dirt.  ¡°Tell your chiefs this, I am not here to take your land but to offer protection. Serve me, and you will prosper. Resist, and you will fall.¡± He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. ¡°You have one hour to decide.¡±


    The goblin¡¯s eyes darted nervously between Paul, Liora, and the undead forces behind them. ¡°I will relay your message.¡±


    ¡°See that you do,¡± Paul said, his voice cold as a winter breeze.  He gestured for the goblin to leave, and the creature scurried back into the woods without a second glance.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Liora watched him disappear into the shadows, her wraith senses tingling with unease.  ¡°You¡¯re giving them time to regroup.¡±


    Paul smiled faintly, a hint of mischief in his expression.  ¡°Let them.  The more they show their hand, the more we¡¯ll know about their numbers and strategy.¡±


    Rikkard grunted in agreement.  ¡°If they do fight, it¡¯ll be a slaughter.  Goblins can¡¯t match our forces.¡±


    Paul turned to Liora, his eyes glinting with determination.  ¡°Keep an eye on the perimeter.  If they¡¯re planning anything, I want to know about it before they make their move.¡±


    Liora inclined her head.  ¡°As you wish.¡±  She vanished into the shadows, her wraith form melting into the darkness.  As much as she disliked waiting, she trusted Paul¡¯s plans¡­ most of the time.  This time, however, she felt he was making the wrong choice.


    Paul remounted and walked his steed around the gathered forces along with Liora.  After about 45 minutes they didn¡¯t hear anything from the goblin forces.  Finally, Paul said, ¡°Let¡¯s begin our march west.  If they haven¡¯t moved, we will hit them well after the grace period.¡±


    ¡°What if they marched this way?¡±  Liora asked.


    ¡°Then we can assume they don¡¯t intend to surrender.¡±  Paul said.


    A scout came running, ¡°Worg riders!¡±  He screamed at the top of his lungs.  ¡°Worg riders are coming!¡±


    ¡°Form up!¡±  Rikkard roared.  ¡°Archers ready your bows.  Living units get behind the skeletons and zombies.¡±


    While Paul had the undead forces forming battle lines dozens of worg riders came out of the nearby trees.  They were in a rough V formation.  Goblin archers began shooting the moment they appeared.


    In front of the charge was the largest worg Paul had ever seen.  It was all black and the size of a horse.  On its back was a giant hobgoblin, at least 8 feet tall.  Behind it were more hobgoblin and goblins on the backs of more worgs.  The archers took out several goblins and worgs before the beasts reached the front lines.


    The worgs didn¡¯t even attempt to slow down before they smashed into the undead line.  Their V formation helped them break the zombie front and get into line with the skeletons behind them.  Spears at the ready the skeletons began attacking the worg riders.


    Liora made her way through there lines in an attempt to get closer to attack the worg riders directly.  As she moved, giant balls of fire were lobbed overhead and into the worg riders, who were now stalled in the undead front lines.


    Drawing on her own death tether she enhanced the skeletons around her, making them more resilient to attacks by the worg riders.  She made her way to the front.  Liora growled hatefully at the living opponents, she thirsted for their lives, and wanted nothing more than to snuff the life in them out.  She raked her mist form hands through the first worg the got close to.


    Her lifeless undead hands sucked the life out of the worg.  It screamed pitifully as she kept raking her hands through it.  As she was about to deal the death blow the hobgoblin rider jumped off the beast and tried to attack her.


    He swung a great sword at her and all it did was pass through her as if she weren¡¯t even there.  She barely spared the hobgoblin a glance before turning back to the worg.  With a final cry of victory, Liora ripped apart the life in the beast killing it.


    Liora gathered death magic in her and turned back to the hobgoblin that was attacking her to no avail.  After gathering enough mana for a spell, she shot a bolt of pure death into the hobgoblin¡¯s soul, ripping it apart.  With a deathly grin she turned back to her living opponents.  It had been quite some time since she got the pleasure of killing.


    She turned to see arrows flying overhead at the worgs in the back.  The zombies closed the line trapping several worg riders with the skeletons.  She looked up in time to see a massive fireball fly overhead and into the ranks of worg riders.


    She could practically hear Paul¡¯s laughter match her own.  A small bit of fire followed the massive fireball Paul threw.  She assumed the lesser bolt was from Grag.  His castings were slower and weaker than Paul¡¯s, but what else was to be expected from the fledgling wizard.


    Seeing the skeletons were easily handling the worg riders with their spears Liora made her way to the front.  Fighting with wild abandon was the giant worg and its hobgoblin rider.  She could appreciate his will to fight, but now only saw him as an enemy that needed to be killed.  Impressive or not.  Making her way to the beast of a hobgoblin, she threw a bolt of death at him.


    He easily shrugged off the spell.  Liora ran forward and tried to rip the hobgoblin from his mount.


    ¡°I¡¯ll not loose to you creature of death!¡±  He roared.  ¡°I am Grandler of the Horn Throwing tribe.  We will not surrender to live in the shadow of death forever!¡±


    Liora grabbed his leg causing him to cry out.  ¡°Like Paul says, you can serve in this lifer or the next.¡±  With a powerful pull she was able to manifest enough to pull him from his mount.


    She cast a death bolt before he could rise.  With the same vigor as the last one, he shrugged off the spell.  Liora thrust her hand into the giant¡¯s chest trying to grip his heart.


    Grandler took a swing at Liora, and like all those before it went right through her.  With a laugh she readied herself to launch at him again.  Grandler easily dodged her attack and began rubbing something on his sword.  She tried to swat the weapon away and made full contact with it.


    ¡°Dodge this, undead filth.¡±  Grandler said.


    Grandler took another swing at her with his great sword.  A little wearier of it she tried to dodge, but her upper left shoulder caught some of the blade.  Pain shot through her arm and shoulder.


    Grandler had the power to harm her.  This was a new development and quite a shock to Liora.  She had never met anyone who could harm her.  She wasn¡¯t sure if it frightened her or not, or if she were a little excited.


    He made his way forward, slashing at Liora every step of the way.  She peered behind herself and saw the great worg which Grandler had rode in on.  With a quick step and a feign she walked right through the worg and led Grandler to cut open the side of the great beast.  The worg howled, but before it could do anything else she reached up and grabbed its heart and squeezed the life from it.


    The worg died with a sad whimper.  The death of the worg caused Grandler to yell.  ¡°You¡¯ll die for that bitch.¡±


    Liora laughed, ¡°Ha, try, and like all the others you will be dust under my feet.¡±


    Grandler raised his sword again, but before he could fully swing, a worg made of mist jumped on his back and flew right through him.  Grandler grunted as he fell forwards, more of the life sapping harming him than the physical weight of the ghostly beast that attacked him.


    Before Grandler could recover, Liora leapt forward and slashed through him.  Taking little bits of his life force with each stroke.  The hobgoblin, being far stronger than anyone she had ever seen before pushed her back with a swing of his sword.


    The worg regaining its balance bit through Grandler¡¯s shoulder.  With a weak swing, he caught the worg in the belly with his enchanted sword.  The worg cried out in pain, but didn¡¯t bleed or loose any limbs.


    With his attention on the worg, Grandler had his back to Liora, who reached in for the final death stroke.  When her hand slid into his body, she could feel the last of his vitality flee his mortal form.  With Grandler down and the riders shattered a horn blew for a retreat.


    Liora looked up to see how bad the damage to her troops were.  They appeared to have lost several dozen undead, but none of their living archers.  Then she surveyed the death toll for the enemy.  It looked like they lost 40 mounts and riders.  Paul would have to raise them to fill the ranks of his already dead army.


    It looked like only 20 or so riders and worgs survived the initial attack.  Liora looked at the undead, then at the corpses of Grandler and his worg.  Standing near them was the worg she had killed and raised as a wraith.  She smiled evilly at the knowledge that she had sucked the life out of Grandler and his worg, soon they would rise as wraith and would serve her and Paul for eternity.


    As soon as Grandler raised she walked over to him, ¡°Now you serve me.¡±


    ¡°Yes, mistress.¡±  He said painfully.


    ¡°How did you get a sword that could harm me?¡±  Liora asked.


    ¡°A shaman from one of the united villages was an adventure once and had fought undead before.  He knows how to make the ghost powder.¡±


    ¡°You will point out this shaman to me when we get close.¡±  Liora said, ¡°A creature with such knowledge needs to die.  Now, come with me.  I¡¯m sure Paul and Rikkard want to know more about your allied forces and your strengths and weaknesses.¡±

 020

    Paul¡¯s POV


    Paul laughed at the retreating worg riders.  They had appeared like lightning, but vanished just as quick.  He did a survey of his own troops.


    Paul hadn¡¯t lost any of his living troops, who were in the back ranks with bows, at Rikkard¡¯s suggestion.  He was more concerned with his living troops safety than preserving his undead forces.  It was alright though; he could use the archers.


    The had started with what looked like 80 worg riders and ended with about 10.  The worg riders tried to retreat sooner, but were taken out by his new archer division, Grag¡¯s magic, and his own fireballs.  The losses were devastating, and it looked like he had only lost about 50 of his undead troops.


    As he made his way to the front to raise them into his undead ranks, Liora made her way to his, riding a wraith worg.  ¡°Hello, my lord.¡±


    ¡°I see you found your horse.¡±  Paul replied.


    ¡°Yes.  His name is Thunderroar.  His brother Aegred, and his old rider is the alliance chief Grandler.¡±


    Paul smiled widely.  The leader of the alliance would be useful.  He would have access to all the vital information they needed to gain a foothold in the area.  He would also know where each village is at, meaning they wouldn¡¯t have to rely on goblin spies.


    ¡°Where is he?¡±  Paul asked.


    ¡°He is still at the front mourning his loss.¡±  Liora said.  ¡°I don¡¯t know if he is safe to be around the living units yet.  Sometimes newly converted wraiths don¡¯t react well to the living; they want to devour their souls.¡±


    Paul nodded his head.  ¡°Let¡¯s go bolster our ranks.¡±  He said as he began pulling death mana through his tether.


    As he and Liora made their way to the front, Rikkard joined them.


    ¡°Not bad for a battle against worg riders.¡±  Rikkard said.  ¡°None of the troops lost their nerve.¡±


    ¡°I should hope not, they weren¡¯t even on the front lines.¡±  Paul said.


    ¡°Front lines or not, their courage held.  That¡¯s a lot to say for a goblin.  Plus, it gives them a further moral boost.  They will be braver next time as they anticipate a win.¡±  Rikkard said.


    ¡°What do they think of the undead hoard that takes losses on their behalf?¡±  Paul asked.


    ¡°They are getting used to them.¡±  Rikkard replied.  ¡°They aren¡¯t totally fine with them, but that will change as the battles continue.  Nothing breeds understanding and brotherhood like war.  Soon you¡¯ll only have to worry about the villagers and what they think.¡±


    ¡°Maybe bring them on campaign with us next time.¡±  Liora laughed.


    Rikkard gave her a look of concern.  He clearly was unsure if she were serious or not.


    They finally reached the front and Paul and Liora began raising the bodies of the goblins, hobgoblins, and worgs from the dead.  With so many undead to create, it took about an hour or so.  Finally finished, Paul surveyed his new army.


    ¡°Where is the enemy now?¡±  Paul asked.


    ¡°According to our scouts they haven¡¯t moved.¡±  Rikkard said.  ¡°It appears they either think the battle is won, or that it is still going on.  None of the worgs retreated to tell the enemy army what was going on.¡±


    ¡°We captured their leader, Grandler.¡±  Liora said.


    ¡°Captured?¡±  Rikkard looked at the newly undead Grandler and Thunderroar.  ¡°Right.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s march on then.  We will meet the rest of the army where they stand.  Hopefully without their leader they are complacent and dulled.¡±


    A couple hours march west and they came across the rest of Grandler¡¯s army.  The united villages had around 150 troops.


    ¡°Grandler.¡±  Paul said loudly, ¡°Command their surrender.  If they surrender now, they will be allowed to live.  If they don¡¯t, they will serve as undead minions in my army.¡±This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    Grandler went forwards towards the army.  ¡°Surrender and you will be allowed to live.  If you don¡¯t, the best you can hope for is to be like me or one of the other monstrosities behind me.  Surrender!¡±


    ¡°Never!¡±  A hobgoblin yelled.  ¡°We won¡¯t become abominations!¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t win against this army.¡±  Grandler said.  ¡°Surrender and live.¡±


    A few arrows came flying from the enemy army and went right through Grandler.


    ¡°You chose wrong.¡±  He said.


    ¡°March forwards.¡±  Paul called out.  ¡°Archers, when in range begin firing.¡±


    ¡°Careful, they have antiundead magic.¡±  Liora said.  ¡°They have ghost powder at the very least.  It allows weapons to hit incorporeal undead.¡±


    ¡°Noted.¡±  Paul said.


    Pulling on his fire tether Paul began gaining mana for more fireball spells.  He knew it was his go-to spell for battles, but who didn¡¯t love throwing fireballs at enemies.


    ¡°Grag, stay out of direct battle and just throw fire spells at the enemy from a distance.¡±  Paul said.  ¡°It will be a lot easier to aim before they armies meet.  Try not to hit our troops once battle begins.  Understand?¡±


    ¡°Yes master.¡±  Grag said atop his new worg zombie.


    Grag looked unsure about riding an undead worg, but he would get used to it eventually.


    ¡°Practice maneuvering your worg while using spells.  This should be an easy battle and a good time to learn these things.¡±  Paul said.


    ¡°Its hard to tell the undead worg what to do while drawing mana.¡±  Grag said.


    ¡°That is why you practice.¡±  Paul responded.


    ¡°Yes master.¡±  Grag responded sheepishly.


    Paul moved his own mount closer, careful not to overtake his undead lines.  Once he got close enough, he began hurling fire at the enemy.  The goblins near where the fireballs landed screamed in panic.  Some in the back even fled, but before the main host could collapse, the undead met them.  Zombies in the front line with shields acted as a wall for spear users in the back.


    The clash was immediate and brutal.  The enemy goblins fought with wild desperation, but Paul¡¯s undead wall was relentless.  The zombies absorbed blows without faltering, their flesh seared and cut but their bodies still moving forward.  The goblin spearmen thrust at them, but without coordinated strikes, it was like stabbing a wall of slowly advancing corpses.


    Paul kept up his barrage of fireballs, striking clusters of enemy forces where the defenses looked weakest.  Each explosion sent goblins flying, their screams lost in the chaos of battle.


    Liora moved like a shadow on Thunderroar, cutting through the battlefield with a deadly grace. She passed through enemy lines, her wraith arms slicing through flesh and armor alike.  Any goblin unlucky enough to stand in her way fell without a sound, their bodies collapsing before they even knew they were dead.


    Rikkard and his hobgoblins pressed in from the flank, their disciplined strikes breaking through panicked formations.  Goblin warriors turned to fight them but found themselves overwhelmed by sheer strength and skill.


    After being encircled by the host before them the enemy army was down to less than 30 goblins.  Looking around and screaming, they all eventually threw down their weapons and surrendered.  Paul gave a signal to Rikkard to stop the attack and take the men prisoner.


    ¡°Halt!¡±  Rikkard roared.  A goblin with a yellow banner on it began to wave it back and forth.  Paul began to hear ¡®halt¡¯ being said among the captains and other leaders.


    Paul began to move to the front of the lines.  He had his undead horde create space enough for him.


    ¡°I am Paul Alaricsson.  You belong to me now.  If you question that you die.  Understood?¡±  Paul told them.  He had made this speech often enough that it hardly phased him now.


    Affirmations came from the small group.  Now that Paul was closer, he could see that 22 goblins had survived and one hobgoblin.


    ¡°You will take us to your villages so they can declare for me.¡±  Paul said.


    ¡°Grandler,¡± Liora said, ¡°lead the way.¡±


    ¡°Yes mistress.¡±  The hobgoblin said.


    ¡°We will leave once we have raised the dead into our ranks.¡±  Paul said.  ¡°No need to rush.¡±


    ¡°Of course, my lord.¡±  Liora said.


    The raising of the dead went quickly.  Paul and his army marched on the first of the goblin villages.  It quickly surrendered without any issue.


    The second village was much larger and much harder to convince.  It had the antiundead shaman in it.  He was clearly, and rightfully, frightened of the army and urged the goblins and hobgoblins that had remained to fight.


    ¡°We wont surrender without a fight.¡±  The shaman yelled over to Paul.


    ¡°That fight has been fought elder.¡±   Paul yelled back.  ¡°Surrender as the last of your warriors have and you will be spared.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t see warriors with you.¡±  The shaman said, ¡°I see cowards with no honor.¡±


    ¡°Surrender and you will be spared.  Resist and you all will join the ranks of my undead horde.¡±  Paul used air mana to amplify his voice.  ¡°This deal is an all or nothing.  Allow this elder to guide you to destruction, or send him to me to die alone.¡±


    ¡°Never!¡±  A hobgoblin yelled.  He limped forward.  ¡°We may not be the army, but that doesn¡¯t make us cowards.¡±


    ¡°So be it.¡±  Paul moved his undead forces forward.


    With a quick use of his air mana, he summoned a lightning blast and struck down the errant shaman.  His body flew backwards with tuffs of earth being thrown in every direction.


    The slaughter of the village was quick.  Some tried running away, and Paul was honestly unsure if any had gotten way, but his archers killed any that disengaged the undead long enough to turn and run.  In the last moments, a few of the survivors tried to surrender, but Paul kept his word, all or nothing.


    After raising the village and bolstering his ranks he had 285 skeletons and 266 zombies, giving him a horde of 551 dead.  For a moment, Paul wondered if he should just kill all the goblins from here on out.  Surrender or not, but he decided against it.  His forced would grow naturally as the goblin died from whatever killed them.  He needed to think of the long game.

 021

    Paul¡¯s POV


    The remaining two villages surrendered without any issue.  Now nothing stood between Paul and the bog and its lissik inhabitants.  As they advanced, the ground grew softer, each step sinking slightly into damp earth.  The air thickened with the scent of decay and stagnant water.  Gideon Blackwood, the alchemist, brought them to a stop.


    He had a long thin metal rod and started spearing the ground with it.  After a couple thrusts, there was a noticeable ¡®tink¡¯.  Gideon smiled widely as he thrust a hand into the mud and pulled out a reddish spongy looking rock.


    ¡°This is bog iron.¡±  Gideon said.  ¡°It grows in the mud, but should be as smeltable as iron from a mine.¡±


    Gideon handed Paul the iron chunk.  It weighed about 2 pounds.  Paul cast a small cleaning spell on the iron.  Once cleaned it looked rusty red with small glittering flakes in it.  The small holes in its surface were far more pronounced than before.


    ¡°Are most chunks this size?¡±  Paul asked.


    ¡°Not necessarily.¡±  Gideon said.  ¡°The average chunk could be pretty massive, if they haven¡¯t been harvested recently.  Maybe around 20 to 30 pounds.¡±


    ¡°Could my undead warrior mine the bog iron easily?¡±  Paul handed the now clean iron back to Gideon.


    ¡°The undead won¡¯t be very useful in the mining process itself.¡±  Gideon responded.  ¡°They would be good at hauling the iron back to Gravewell, but you need to have reasoning to extract the iron from the bog.¡±  He started poking the rod into the mud again.  ¡°The goblins would be much better at it.  The lissik deeper in the bog would be good also.¡±  Gideon looked up at Paul, ¡°Maybe an alliance can be struck with the lissik to mine the ore for us can be struck?¡±


    ¡°Maybe.¡±  Paul said as he looked deeper into the bog.  ¡°What¡­?¡±


    Before Paul could finish his thought an arrow struck him in the shoulder.  He grunted and nearly fell from his horse.


    ¡°Round up!¡±  Rikkard yelled.  ¡°We are under attack, bows at the ready.¡±  Rikkard ran towards Paul.  ¡°Get off the horse, you¡¯re an easy target up there.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t dismount among the goblin tribes.¡±  Paul said.


    ¡°You also weren¡¯t in the front lines fighting an enemy we can¡¯t see.¡±  Rikkard said.


    A couple more arrows passed by Paul, one grazing his neck.  Gritting his teeth Paul dismounted.  Hiding behind his troops he sent his skeletons into the bog to find the attackers.


    His troops made their way slowly into the bog.  The arrows stopped flying.  Paul looked towards where the arrows had come from.  Not hearing any fighting, he assumed the ambushers fled.  As he was getting ready to turn away and walk back to Gideon, more arrows started to fly from their right.


    Again, Rikkard¡¯s response was immediate.  ¡°To the right, archers let your arrows fly.¡±  Rikkard looked over at Paul.  ¡°We should send more skeletons to the left as well as the right.  It is likely a small scouting party.  We¡¯ll either catch them or chase them off, either is good.  We need to regroup.¡±


    Paul nodded his assent.  A group of thirty skeletons went both towards the right, where the arrows were coming from, and to the left, where they may have come from next. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    After several moments there was a loud croaky yell.  It came from between the right and center search parties.  Unconcerned with the potential danger, he can with bloodlust toward the yell.  Once further in the bog, Paul saw a lissik on its back with an arrow in its leg.


    The creature looked as described to him by Rikkard.  It looked like a giant bullfrog with two powerfully built legs that allowed it stand upright and jump greats heights.  Its skin was a mossy green, allowing it to camouflage easily with the bog.  It stood about 2 ? feet tall.  It wore cloths that seemed functional.  On its back was an empty quiver of arrows and a spear.


    Next to the wounded lissik were a couple of dead ones.  Paul¡¯s skeletons had run them down.  They were most likely carrying the wounded lissik when they were set upon.


    ¡°Do you want to die along side your fellows?¡±  Paul asked as he neared the lissik.


    The lissik looked at Paul.  He could see fear in its eyes.  Tell us where to find the rest of your kin and we¡¯ll let you live.  The lissik, though filled with fear, spit at Paul.  Moving out of the way of the spittle, Paul commanded his troops to seize the lissik.


    The skeletal troops followed Paul back to where the main forces waited.  Rikkard met them at the point where Paul had left from.


    ¡°That was unnecessarily risky.¡±  Rikkard said.  ¡°You have others who could do these things for you.  You¡¯re a high chief now.  Your life shouldn¡¯t be risked chasing lissik through the mud.¡±


    ¡°Noted.¡±  Paul said.  ¡°Take away his weapons.¡±  He instructed his goblins.  ¡°Liora, what do you think of making him an undead that can speak?¡±


    ¡°Something we could reliably interrogate.¡±  Liora nodded.  ¡°Something easily banished once we no longer have need for it would be good too.  The threat of the true death may make it more reliable.¡±


    ¡°I was thinking of a simple spirit.¡±  Paul said.  ¡°Nothing quite so strong as a wraith, but nothing so stupid as a skeleton or zombie.¡±


    ¡°Agreed.  Spirit it is.¡±  Liora said.


    Paul began to call death mana from his tether.  It was a quick process.  Death was his strongest tether.  Since joining the ranks of the undead himself, his death tether had done nothing but grow.  He had the spells to create undead committed to memory.  Alaric had made sure of it.


    His sire had done everything in his power to make Paul a powerful necromancer in his own right.  Vampires, like wraiths, were loyal, unconditionally, to their creators.  Alaric had no issues trusting Paul would use his newfound powers to Alaric¡¯s benefit.


    Finishing the spell, Paul placed a hand on the held lissik.  With a sharp, piercing shriek, it died, and its body shriveled and turned into a dried good for nothing husk.  Rising out of it was a dim, hard to see, spirit.


    ¡°Spirit,¡± Paul said, ¡°where is your village?¡±


    ¡°It is north of here.¡±  The lissik said.


    ¡°What kinds of defenses does it have?¡±  Rikkard asked.


    The spirit looked at Rikkard with distaste, but didn¡¯t answer.  Rikkard just stood there, unthreatened by the gaze of the lissik.


    ¡°You heard him,¡± Paul said.  ¡°Answer him.¡±


    The lissik¡¯s face twisted with pain.  ¡°There are some traps for people who get too close, but we have never had a force this large enter the bog before.  We have never needed greater defenses.¡±


    ¡°How many warriors do you have?¡±  Rikkard asked.


    ¡°Around 30.  The village has a population of 323, most don¡¯t know how to fight.  Our hunters are our only real defense.  That and the bog.¡±  The spirit looked pained the entire time it spoke.


    ¡°Do we destroy it now?¡±  Liora asked.


    ¡°No.  Have it show us the village in person.¡±  Rikkard said.  ¡°After that it could stay around as a spy.¡±


    ¡°Sounds like a good plan.¡±  Paul said.


    ¡°The trees should thin out to the point of being nonexistent.¡±  Gideon said.  ¡°The water becomes too acidic to support trees.¡±


    ¡°If there are no trees, what kinds of building are we looking for?¡±  Paul asked.


    ¡°The huts are made of peat moss and clay from the bog.¡±  The spirit said.  ¡°They blend in with the terrain really well.¡±


    ¡°How much resistance can we expect?¡±  Rikkard asked.


    ¡°My people will not meekly surrender.¡±  The spirit said.


    ¡°What is your name spirit?¡±  Paul asked.


    ¡°Slorbb.¡±  He responded.


    ¡°Well, Slorbb, you can tell your people they can surrender, or they will serve in their next life like you.¡±  Paul said.  ¡°I promise to be a just ruler, but I will rule over the lissik, like I do the goblins, one way or another.¡±  Paul remounted his horse.  ¡°It will be a long slog through the mud to get to the lissik village, take the time to think about what you want to say to your kin.¡±

 022

    Paul¡¯s POV


    It took two days to reach the lissik village.  The deep mud hampered their movements the entire way.  The lissik continued to pepper Paul¡¯s forces as they advanced.  According to Slorbb they had no notion of the undead and didn¡¯t know what undeath was.


    In the last couple of days, they managed to kill 17 lissik, more than half their warrior numbers.  To hinder morale among the lissik, Paul turned all the dead lissik into zombies and had them walk at the front of the column.  Seeing as how the lissik had no notion of undead or necromancers Paul hoped they would come off as still being alive and helping the enemy forces.


    As the trees thinned, the attacks became less frequent.  They had one small group hide within the mud and jumped out with poisonous blow darts.  They usually attacked the front lines, which Paul kept full of undead.  The poison had no effect on his undead soldiers, which he hoped intimidated what remained of the lissik warriors.


    ¡°How much further?¡±  Paul asked Slorbb.


    ¡°The village should come into sight within the next hour or so.¡±  The enslaved spirit said, reluctantly.


    ¡°Good, as we get nearer, I want to thin out the line and try to encircle as much of the village as we can.  The lissik know the terrain and the last thing I need is a hit-and-run campaign for the next couple of years while I wipe the lissik from the bog.¡±  Paul said.


    Paul wasn¡¯t too concerned with the lissik surviving or not.  It was how much trouble one option was over the other.  According to Gideon, the lissik would be good at extracting the iron from the bog, probably even better than the goblins, due to the fact that they live here.  This was reason enough for Paul to want to keep them alive.


    What he didn¡¯t want was a massive and prolonged fight for the next couple of years while he slowly ticked away at the lissik, because they would also tick away at him.  They may be unfamiliar with the undead now, but after some time they would learn, and adapt.


    For those reasons, Paul was considering not having any of his corporeal undead stay in the bog.  Maybe Slorbb could stay as a spy, or Grandler could stay and lead the lissik in Paul¡¯s absence.  It would all depend on how negotiations went with the lissik.  When the village came into view, 5 more lissik sprang up from the mud.


    ¡°Archers!¡±  Rikkard yelled.


    Having seen this trick before, the goblins were ready for it.  The lissik attacked the skeletons and zombies with blow pipes, while Rikkard¡¯s archers attacked from a distance.  Within moments all five lissik were dead.  That gave Paul 23 zombie lissik and if Slorbb was right, that meant there were only 7 warriors left.


    As they got closer to the lissik village, a single lissik could be seen walking towards Paul.  Halting his army¡¯s march, Paul and his main retinue continued forwards.


    ¡°Hello stranger.¡±  The lissik said loud enough Paul could easily hear him from a good distance away.  ¡°What have you come here for?¡±


    ¡°It is customary to introduce yourself where I am from.¡±  Paul said.  ¡°I am Paul Alaricsson from the Deepwood.¡±


    ¡°I am Vrelka.¡±  Vrelka said with confidence.  ¡°What are you doing in our bog?¡±


    ¡°I am here seeking a metal that grows in the bog.¡±  Paul replied.  ¡°Iron ore is abundant here, and my people need it.¡±  Paul looked behind himself at the lissik zombies.  ¡°As you can see my magic is powerful.  Even some of your warriors have been drawn in.¡±


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    ¡°We know nothing of this iron.¡±  Vrelka said.  ¡°Take your host and go elsewhere.¡±


    ¡°I think not.¡±  Paul said.  ¡°We have come too far, fought too many battles.¡±  Waving a hand over his head Paul shot out a small bit of fire.  ¡°I am a powerful wizard, and I have with me powerful warriors.¡±  Paul looked at Slorbb.  ¡°Come forward and tell your comrades they are better off surrendering to me than fighting as the others have.¡±


    Slorbb floated forward slowly.  ¡°They have powerful magic I have never seen before.  They have the power to destroy us.¡±


    ¡°Then you know, as well as I do, that destruction at the hands of an enemy is preferable to enslavement.¡±  Vrelka said.


    ¡°You don¡¯t mean they are using that spell?¡±  Slorbb asked clearly afraid.


    ¡°Yes.  This host your have joined with will soon be destroyed.¡±  Vrelka said.


    ¡°You can¡¯t, it will kill most of the village too!¡±  Slorbb yelled.


    The other lissik simply laughed.


    ¡°What are they talking about?¡±  Paul asked.


    ¡°By sacrificing half the village, the shaman will summon an elemental that will defend the village from doom.¡±  Slorbb said.


    Paul smirked.  ¡°Yes, lets destroy the village to save it.¡±


    ¡°It is not funny.¡±  Slorbb said.  ¡°The elemental will be giant.¡±


    ¡°How long does the elemental stay alive?¡±  Paul asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure.¡±  Slorbb said.  ¡°Until the enemy host is destroyed.¡±


    ¡°So, if we retreat when the elemental gets here, it will go away?¡±  Rikkard asked.  ¡°Doesn¡¯t sound solid.¡±


    ¡°Liora, go into the village first.  Then the elemental comes, retreat in away from the army and see if it follows you.¡±  Paul instructed.


    ¡°It can¡¯t be that easy, can it?¡±  Rikkard asked.


    ¡°We¡¯re about to see.¡±  Paul said.  ¡°They are already summoning the elemental.  Let¡¯s see how this plays out.¡±


    ¡°Wait!¡±  Slorbb yelled.  ¡°Are you telling me you think defeating the defending elemental would be so easy?  That half the village will die for nothing?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re about to see.¡±  Paul said again.  ¡°Vrelka of the lissik, we refuse to leave.  Summon your elemental and we shall end this fight today.¡±


    With that, Vrelka left and Liora, Thunderroar, Grandler, and the last worg wraith followed.  The lissik village was barely visible on the horizon.  In about an hour a giant earthen, lissik looking creature appeared.  It had to be at least as tall as the tallest trees of the Deepwood.  It could be easily seen from his current position.


    The elemental began to roar and rampage around.  Paul could see it striking huts and throwing lissik around.  It did this for about an hour before following, what Paul assumed was the small warband he had sent into the village.  After about twenty minutes of following Liora and her warband the lissik elemental made its way back to the village and rampaged a little more, then just fell apart.


    ¡°Alright.  That was entertaining.¡±  Paul said.  ¡°Let¡¯s go to the village.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe that worked.¡±  Rikkard said.


    Paul led his troops to the lissik village.  It was just as slow moving as before.  The moral of the goblins was higher than it had been, seeing their enemies completely destroy themselves put them in a good mood.  About halfway there Liora made her way back to the army.


    ¡°You were right.¡±  Liora gushed.  ¡°It was beautiful.  The elemental couldn¡¯t do anything against us and eventually gave up and returned back to the village.  They killed themselves.¡±


    ¡°This is why I prefer necromancy.  My creations obey.¡±  Paul laughed.  He couldn¡¯t help it.  The lissik had been so proud and overconfident in their blood magic elemental.  Didn¡¯t they know, you never create something you can¡¯t control.  Backwater education.


    Paul could see the huts of the village were destroyed.  Smashed to small pieces by the elemental.  Dead bodies of the lissik littered the ground.  It was hard to tell if anyone even survived the massacre.


    In the center of the village was a ritual circle that looked burned into the ground.  The smell of blood was thick in the air.


    ¡°Search the village for any surviving lissik.¡±  Paul ordered his troops.


    After a couple of hours of searching, Rikkard said, ¡°There is no one left alive.¡±


    ¡°Tell the men they can loot the village, but first I want all the dead brought to me to add to my army.¡±  Paul responded.


    ¡°Yes, Chief.¡±  Rikkard said.


    ¡°Easiest 300 troops I ever made.¡±  Paul said more to himself than anyone listening.

 023

    Grag¡¯s POV


    Grag walked alone through the destroyed lissik village.  It stank like the rest of the bog, but with the added scent of blood.  Burned into the ground at the center of the village were magic runes.  Grag didn¡¯t know you could write the runes out as a way to use them.  It was something he would have to ask Paul about.


    The skeletons and zombies that came along with the army were gathering dead lissik together.  With no known survivors, there was no one to subjugate.  It made no difference.  Once the dead were raised as new warriors, they would probably be on their way home.


    Grag walked into one of the destroyed huts.  Inside looked damp and uncomfortable, nothing like the wide-open space of the longhouse.  Kneeling down, Grag picked up a tattered looking doll.  It was made of long stalks of grass.  He didn¡¯t know if it was made locally or traded for by outsiders.


    Turning the ragged doll around in his hand, he wondered if a child had clutched it while the elemental rampaged through the village.  It didn¡¯t matter either way.  The lissik were all gone now, destroyed in their vain attempt to destroy the master and his army.


    For some reason the lissik destroying themselves rather than serving the Master made him think of the village the Master destroyed.  They fought and refused to surrender, only to serve in death.  Grag wondered what it would be like to be undead.


    ¡®I will probably be turned into one when I die.¡¯  He thought to himself.


    Would he even notice when it happened?  Would he feel the cold seep into his bones, or would it be like blinking and waking up different?  It wasn¡¯t a bad fate¡ªjust a certainty.


    Grag walked back towards the group.  Rikkard was talking quietly with the Master.  After a short exchange the Master nodded.


    ¡°We have conquered the lissik.¡±  The Master said loudly.  ¡°Go, go into their huts and take all you want.  What was once theirs is now ours.¡±


    Rikkard roared as he raised a fist into the air.  ¡°You hear him, loot!¡±


    Cheering rang out from the gathered hobgoblins, goblins, and ogres.  With wild abandon they left to go gather any loot they could find.  It wasn¡¯t the first time they were given leave to look a village, but for some reason this time felt wrong.


    Sacred wasn¡¯t the right word, but this place felt untouchable.  As Grag continued to walk through the lissik village, all he could see were families that were.  He took one last look at the doll, turning it over in his hand.  Then, with a grunt, he tossed it aside. It was just another remnant of a people who no longer mattered.  Still, for a reason he couldn¡¯t name, he didn¡¯t watch where it landed.


    He forced himself to move, shoving aside the hollow feeling in his chest.  The Master had won. The lissik were gone.  There was nothing left to dwell on.  Grag joined in the looting of the village.  He was eager to not be left behind.  As the Master¡¯s apprentice, he needed to keep up appearances.


    Morale was important.  Noticing how Rikkard commanded respect and loyalty from his own troops was proof of it.  Grag wanted to be a great leader too, one day.


    While rummaging through a hut Grag found a small bracelet made of bright blue stones and braded leather.  He turned the small trinket over in his hand.  The stones sparkled a little, even in the dark.


    ¡®Pasxi would like this.¡¯  He thought to himself.


    He stuffed the bracelet in a pocket and continued to rummage around the hut.  He ate some small dried fruit and squirrel jerky that he came across.  While looking for nothing in particular, he also found a bottle of wine.  It smelled sweet.  He would save it for Pasxi as well.  He hoped she would like his gifts.


    On the bed was a nice fluffy pillow.  The lissik really lived good.  For a brief moment he was glad for his good luck that the lissik decided to fight to the point of extinction.  Grag wondered if he shouldn¡¯t tell Pasxi where or how he got her gifts.


    After he had completed his looting of the hut, he came out to see the sun almost up.  Grag found Rikkard near the center of the village.


    The Master had undoubtedly gone to find a place to rest for the day.  Where he went to sleep during their times outside the village he didn¡¯t know.  As far as he knew, Rikkard didn¡¯t know either.  It was a secret for the Master and Liora only.


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    ¡°Alight men!¡±  Rikkard yelled.  ¡°Today we camp in the village and tomorrow we head home.¡±


    There was a small cheer.  They had been away from home for a couple of weeks, so it would be nice to go home for a bit.  He missed Pasxi and couldn¡¯t wait to see her again.


    The day passed without incident.  After the elemental attacked the village, there was nothing left they even needed to worry about.


    After waking up, Grag felt good, with his new soft pillow.  He knew others might say that such comforts might weaken him, but they never tried this pillow.


    While waiting for the Master to show back up, Grag started on his morning routine of breathing and calling fire mana through his tether.  He breathed deep, in and out, just like he had been taught.  He had trouble concentrating at first.


    The Master was relentless.  ¡°Grag, you have a gift others will never know.  Magic makes you better than those who would think you, their peer.  Among the goblins, you are a wizard, well a wizard¡¯s apprentice, but close enough.¡±  The Master had told him once.  ¡°You are better than those who can¡¯t use magic.¡±


    At first Grag didn¡¯t know if he believed the Master, but then during the battles, when he threw fire at his enemies.  It was an ecstasy he couldn¡¯t describe.  To have the power of fire.  He wanted to get into another battle soon, just to throw fireballs at the enemy.


    As he breathed, he tried to recall all the runes necessary to cast a fireball.  After several minutes of breathing, Grag brought out his small book of runes.  He knew the fireball spell by heart, but he needed to learn a couple other spells.


    The Master wanted him to know one additional spell per week, until he had the entire book committed to memory.  There were forty spells in the book.  It was the Master¡¯s apprentice book.  He used to carry it around with him all the time.  Then when he became a vampire, the Master simply added the book to his library and started learning death spells.


    Grag opened the spellbook to the spell he was working on now, called flaming hand.  It would shoot a small flame from one of his hands.  It didn¡¯t take up a lot of mana to use.  Which was the only good thing about the spell, but now that Grag knew fireball, he wondered why he would ever need any other fire spell.


    He traced the runes in the air and cast small sparks of fire into the fireplace of the hut he was staying in.  Casting the spell several more times, he eventually put the spellbook aside and tried casting the spell from memory.  The first cast succeeded.  Now he just needed to see if he would remember the spell the next morning, or later that night, when he tried casting it again.


    Rikkard showed up at the hut Grag was staying in.  ¡°Bloodsucker is looking for you.¡±  He said.


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t call the Master names.¡±  Grag said.  ¡°He will punish you.¡±


    ¡°Maybe, but I think it amuses him.¡±  Rikkard responded.  ¡°Keeps him sane.  Knows I¡¯ll be honest with him about the important things too.¡±  He walked out of the hut.  ¡°Gather up men, we march in 15 minutes!¡±


    ¡°Wait.   Where is the Master?¡±


    ¡°Center of the village.  He¡¯s still studying the runes drawn on the ground.¡±


    Packing quickly, Grag ran toward the center of the village.  The Master always had blank sheets and ink and quill.  He stood over the symbols and was reviewing a sheet of parchment in his hands.  Grag waited patiently for the Master to continue what he was doing.


    ¡°Grag, do you or I have an earth tether?¡±  The Master asked still studying the runes and writing things down.


    ¡°No Master.¡±


    ¡°Do you know why I am writing this spell down and everything I know about it, or what I can glean from the runes positioning?¡±


    ¡°No Master.¡±  Grag began to shift slightly from one leg to the other.  The Master liked teaching, and Grag liked learning, but sometimes the Master would get angry if Grag didn¡¯t know an answer.


    The Master stood straight and looked Grag in the eyes.  ¡°Think about it.¡±


    Grag looked down at the runes.  He even took a step to get a better idea.  He didn¡¯t recognize any of the runes he could clearly see from his vantage point.  With no ideas coming to mind, he finally relented and said he wasn¡¯t sure.


    ¡°These runes summoned the elemental that destroyed this entire village.¡±  The Master said.  He walked over towards Grag.  ¡°These people killed themselves off with this spell.  We need to study it to either, one, improve upon it, so the elemental is under better control.  Or two, make sure we don¡¯t make the lissik¡¯s mistake and summon and elemental with this same spell.¡±  Turning towards the runes, the Master waved a hand over them.  ¡°Who even knows where they got this spell?¡±


    The elemental brought to mind the slaughter of the lissik.  For a moment Grag wanted to ask the Master what he though about their deaths.


    ¡°Maybe they just found it like we did?¡±  Grag said, instead, trying to be helpful.


    ¡°Could be.¡±  He responded.  ¡°We¡¯ll never know now.¡±


    Rikkard walked up, followed by his hobgoblin lieutenants.  A few of them were carrying bundles of something.  ¡°We found some books, like you asked.  Don¡¯t know if you¡¯ll be able to read them.  They seem to be in lissik.¡±  He flipped open a book and looked at it.  ¡°Or what I assume is lissik.  Never seen this language before.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fine.  Divine magic has some translating spells, and we now have a divine spell caster at Gravewell.¡±  The Master said.  ¡°Pack them up on a couple skeleton¡¯s packs and we can go.  I¡¯m done here.¡±


    The Master definitely had a knowledge of magic and its wide-reaching nature.  Grag wondered if he would ever know as much as the Master about magic.


    The Master put his parchment into a book and mounted his horse.  Liora, never far from the Master, came forwards, riding her new worg mount.


    ¡°The way home looks clear.¡±  Liora said.


    With that, they were off towards home.