mist thinned to reveal a vast series of open pits where masses of grayish white bodies crowded together like maggots packed in a rotting wound.
A dull murmur rose up from the undulating mass, senseless and wordless. A low, rattling moan, like an asthmatic breath dragged through throats choking on phlegm. The disturbing sound would instinctively raise hairs on the necks of the unsuspecting… and strike terror in the hearts of those who recognized its portent.
Revenants. Man-shaped creatures spawned from scraps of human flesh and bone, grown like witch-weed in a soupy morass of soil,
magus
powder, and the putrefying offal of both man and beast. Not entirely living, not entirely dead, but rather soulless hulks with a rapacious hunger for live flesh. And despite their current moribund state, when loosed from their pack, they moved with the speed of striking serpents—and the carnivorous ferocity of a
lyrant
taking down its prey.
They were the perfect weapon. Animated by the darkest of Dark magic, the creatures were all but indestructible. They had no hearts to pierce, no lungs to rob of breath, no veins to drain of blood. Instead, like great, gruesome sponges, they thrived by absorbing the blood and dissolved flesh of their victims. Both their outer skin and the lining of the long digestive tube that coiled from maw to waste duct exuded a corrosive enzyme that liquefied flesh and bone on contact, then soaked up the resulting nutrient-rich goo and shuttled it inward to the rest of the creatures’ ever-hungry bodies. On a battlefield, where revenants could gorge and wade through swamps of slain men, even dismemberment only served to multiply their numbers, for a revenant limb separated from its host needed only a soaking of fresh blood to grow again.
Their only thoughts—encoded into every cell of their ravening beings—were to feed and kill… and to serve the Elden Mages who held their leashes.
“How many have you grown now?” Vadim asked.
“Three million two hundred thousand, Most High,” Grule answered. “Stored cold, kept hungry. When you unleash them, nothing living will long stand in their path.”
Three million two hundred thousand. A force like none this world had ever seen, exceeding even the wildest accounts of the mythic Army of Darkness.
“Excellent.” The Celierian king had gathered his allies at Kreppes. Vadim’s eyes along the border had provided daily reports of their preparations for war, but their efforts would be for naught. Celieria would belong to Eld before the new moons rose on the thirteenth night of Seledos—and after that, the Fading Lands. “You have done well, Grule. You are a Mage worthy of his jewels.” He cast a final, gleaming gaze over the revenant pits. “Prepare them for transport.”
Celieria ~ Kreppes
30 th day of Verados
A knock sounded on Rain and Ellysetta’s suite door. When Gil went to answer it, no one was more surprised than Ellysetta to find Great Lord Dervas Sebourne on the other side. The warriors of her quintet went instantly stone-faced, as did Rain, when Gil ushered the Celierian Great Lord inside the room.
“Lord Sebourne,” Rain greeted with wary stiffness.
“Feyreisen.” Sebourne’s voice was equally crisp. “I’ll be brief. The king may have decided to overlook your lies and manipulations, but I have not. So do not think my return signals anything to the contrary. For now, I have no choice but to set aside my personal feelings and accept you as a member of this alliance, but when this war is over, I intend to lead the Council of Lords to eliminate Fey interference in all walks of Celierian life. And be warned, war or no war, if I discover you or any of your Fey are using magic to influence or invade mortal minds, I will be the first to call for your execution. Have a pleasant evening.”
He gave a curt nod and stalked out.
Ellysetta gaped after him. She turned to Rain, shaking her head. “Did he really just come in here
A dull murmur rose up from the undulating mass, senseless and wordless. A low, rattling moan, like an asthmatic breath dragged through throats choking on phlegm. The disturbing sound would instinctively raise hairs on the necks of the unsuspecting… and strike terror in the hearts of those who recognized its portent.
Revenants. Man-shaped creatures spawned from scraps of human flesh and bone, grown like witch-weed in a soupy morass of soil,
magus
powder, and the putrefying offal of both man and beast. Not entirely living, not entirely dead, but rather soulless hulks with a rapacious hunger for live flesh. And despite their current moribund state, when loosed from their pack, they moved with the speed of striking serpents—and the carnivorous ferocity of a
lyrant
taking down its prey.
They were the perfect weapon. Animated by the darkest of Dark magic, the creatures were all but indestructible. They had no hearts to pierce, no lungs to rob of breath, no veins to drain of blood. Instead, like great, gruesome sponges, they thrived by absorbing the blood and dissolved flesh of their victims. Both their outer skin and the lining of the long digestive tube that coiled from maw to waste duct exuded a corrosive enzyme that liquefied flesh and bone on contact, then soaked up the resulting nutrient-rich goo and shuttled it inward to the rest of the creatures’ ever-hungry bodies. On a battlefield, where revenants could gorge and wade through swamps of slain men, even dismemberment only served to multiply their numbers, for a revenant limb separated from its host needed only a soaking of fresh blood to grow again.
Their only thoughts—encoded into every cell of their ravening beings—were to feed and kill… and to serve the Elden Mages who held their leashes.
“How many have you grown now?” Vadim asked.
“Three million two hundred thousand, Most High,” Grule answered. “Stored cold, kept hungry. When you unleash them, nothing living will long stand in their path.”
Three million two hundred thousand. A force like none this world had ever seen, exceeding even the wildest accounts of the mythic Army of Darkness.
“Excellent.” The Celierian king had gathered his allies at Kreppes. Vadim’s eyes along the border had provided daily reports of their preparations for war, but their efforts would be for naught. Celieria would belong to Eld before the new moons rose on the thirteenth night of Seledos—and after that, the Fading Lands. “You have done well, Grule. You are a Mage worthy of his jewels.” He cast a final, gleaming gaze over the revenant pits. “Prepare them for transport.”
Celieria ~ Kreppes
30 th day of Verados
A knock sounded on Rain and Ellysetta’s suite door. When Gil went to answer it, no one was more surprised than Ellysetta to find Great Lord Dervas Sebourne on the other side. The warriors of her quintet went instantly stone-faced, as did Rain, when Gil ushered the Celierian Great Lord inside the room.
“Lord Sebourne,” Rain greeted with wary stiffness.
“Feyreisen.” Sebourne’s voice was equally crisp. “I’ll be brief. The king may have decided to overlook your lies and manipulations, but I have not. So do not think my return signals anything to the contrary. For now, I have no choice but to set aside my personal feelings and accept you as a member of this alliance, but when this war is over, I intend to lead the Council of Lords to eliminate Fey interference in all walks of Celierian life. And be warned, war or no war, if I discover you or any of your Fey are using magic to influence or invade mortal minds, I will be the first to call for your execution. Have a pleasant evening.”
He gave a curt nod and stalked out.
Ellysetta gaped after him. She turned to Rain, shaking her head. “Did he really just come in here
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