Defiant Necromancer (Book 2 stubbing July 3)

Tybalt spent almost the entirety of the march focused on crafting new undead.

Through six hours of the Grand Beastfolk Army walking alongside him - including stops to empty and destroy three villages - the necromancer had time to create sixty new undead, using up all of the bodies.

“So, what we learned is,” he said quietly to Victoria, “I’m pretty sure that only your prayers actually help improve the results of my necromancy. We only got the one death knight and another nachzehrer, and those are nice, but they specifically came from bodies you prayed over. The others were just wasting their time. Until and unless they get priest or priestess classes, they’d be better off just praying for good health and rain or something.”

The foxgirl nodded, touched Tybalt’s hand, lightly squeezed it, and smiled. He returned the smile, lifted her hand, and planted a soft kiss on her knuckles.

Which means I only need you with me when I’m doing this, went unspoken, but he was fairly certain that she got the message.

Victoria and Tybalt were in a good place in their relationship. Early stages, but nice. Still at a point where little gestures of affection like this could make the foxgirl blush.

“I got a new skill, too, Tybalt,” she said, rubbing lightly at his palm with her soft fingers. “Safeguard. It’s going to let me protect our troops in certain situations, although just within a certain range around my body.”

We’re getting just a little bit closer, he thought. The more she trusts me and shares with me, the closer we are to making this marriage thing actually work.

“That’s great,” he managed, trying not to get lost in his own thoughts.

“I’ve said this before, but ever since I met you, it seems like I just matter a lot more than I ever did before.”

He opened his mouth to tell her that of course she mattered, she had always mattered. It was corny, but it was also something he thought she might need to hear.

Before he could speak, they were interrupted.

“Lord Necromancer, we’ve spotted the walls of the next town!” called a scout from just ahead of them.

Victoria instantly tried to pull her hand back. Tybalt gently kept hold of her.

“You don’t need to do that,” he said. He ran a thumb over the bone wrapped around her ring finger, then lowered his voice. “Engaged, remember?”

“Right,” she said, nodding. She kept her hand in his as he addressed the scout, a harpy who remained in midair as they spoke.

“Did you see anything interesting about Dun?” he asked. He remembered the name of the town from the earlier visits.

“No, my lord,” the harpy said.

Tybalt noted how Victoria reacted to the deference in the other woman’s tone. Like Vidalia, she seemed to enjoy how the other beastfolk spoke with such consistent respect for their man.

The harpy flapped down a bit closer to the cart Tybalt and Victoria were riding in before she continued, in a confidential tone, “War Chief Andric asked that I pass on a request, though.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, my lord. He wanted to know if, given how little experience the beastfolk gained in the last town, you would be willing to let them take full charge of capturing this one.”

Tybalt closed his eyes, reached out with his magical senses to the town, now only a handful of miles away, and then nodded.

I can sense you.

“It shouldn’t be a problem,” the necromancer replied. “This was one of the first towns Dero and I visited with, um- ” He lowered his voice- “my pestilence, though. It’s likely that it won’t be much of a challenge.”

“Then he might ask if they can be in charge of the next town, too,” Victoria said.

“I’ll just get the gate open for you guys,” Tybalt said. “When we get close.”

The harpy looked surprised and impressed.

“Um, thank you, my lord, I’m sure we appreciate the help!”

“No sense in sending men to die trying to scale a wall when I already have men on the inside.”

Men, after a manner of speaking…

He reached out to the distant town again.

“Rise, my children. Rise from your slumber, and prepare to greet your creator.”

The necromancer had a standing order to all undead formed from his virus at the moment: sleep. Pretend to still be sick rather than dead or undead. Then they should be ready for the moment of Tybalt’s arrival.

Specifically for those located within the walls of the town he still could not see, he rescinded that order now.

He sensed it as hundreds of bodies began to move according to his will.

The next hour was uneventful, except that the town’s walls came into view. Andric spoke to the beastfolk on his own, and Tybalt deliberately stayed back, not interfering or trying to insert himself in any way. Andric had extended him the same courtesy when Tybalt took charge earlier.

It was easy to forget, but Tybalt and Andric were equals in status here.

For the moment.

Two war chiefs. It was only proper to try and give the foxman his moments to shine.

Tybalt could sense the beastmen and the small group of humans who had joined up with them getting energized from whatever Andric said to them. They were all ready to take the town.

Finally, the group got to within a half mile of the walls, and the energy shifted. The whole group became more serious.

Andric threw a wave to Tybalt, which the necromancer returned along with a crisp salute. Tybalt quickly checked in with his undead.

“They can get the gate open at any moment!” Tybalt shouted.

A little cheer went up from the beastfolk.

The foxman said a last few words to these living members of their force.

And the beastfolk charged with a ferocious roar, sprinting across the remaining distance with weapons in hand.

The sound of all of them yelling made the hairs on the back of Tybalt’s neck stand up. The run across almost half a mile of open ground was still far from tactically sound, and in that sense, Andric clearly hadn’t learned much since the battle for the beastfolk village, but on the other hand, if there had been an army standing there, waiting for them…

I wouldn’t want to be in the front ranks of our enemies on that day. Although, again, if they just have a simple wall to hide behind, our beastfolk would be awfully vulnerable charging right at it…

“Open the gate now,” he sent to the creatures inside the walls. “Don’t harm any beastman or any human who comes through the gate. They are my forces.”

“Yes, master,” replied the chorus of the undead.

Then the necromancer sent a wordless command to Harald. The wight knight stepped up to the side of the cart, and Tybalt jumped onto his shoulders.

“Do you want to come?” he asked Victoria.

“Are you asking me if I want a piggy back ride on Harald?” she replied.

He nodded.

“No, thank you. I’ll sit here and arrive at the same time as all the others who didn’t charge.”

Tybalt smiled. “Fair enough. I’m just curious to see what happens.”

Of course, he could simply look through the eyes of his undead. Ahead of him, he saw the front gates of the town opening, which meant there were creatures close enough to see out.

But the necromancer wanted to witness what happened through his own eyes this time.

Harald started running, and Tybalt just focused on holding onto the ibexman’s horns to remain stable on his shoulders.

As the necromancer approached, the beastfolk reached the town, and their front ranks flooded through the open gates. Tybalt looked up and realized he didn’t see anyone on the walls.

That was funny.

Did they realize they couldn’t get the gate closed again, so they decided to just shoot arrows at whoever comes through it? Or are they fighting my undead now?

The necromancer watched as the walls grew closer, and the rest of the beastfolk streamed inside their confines.

Finally, he himself reached the gate, just a few seconds after the last of the beastfolk made it inside. His wight knight was much faster than any living beastfolk, fortunately for him.

The sight that greeted him was unexpected but beautiful. Hundreds of kneeling undead lined the town’s central street. The beastfolk milled around, looking confused, eyes darting side to side as if expecting an attack at any moment.

A half dozen watchmen stood with their faces pressed against the walls, their spears and bows lying on the ground beside them. Andric and a few others with him guarded those men against any potential heroics.

The foxman saw Tybalt standing on top of Harald and gave the necromancer a meaningful look. It said something along the lines of, Explain, please.

“Oh, I hadn’t realized just how much of the town was compromised by my pestilence,” Tybalt said aloud after a moment. He shrugged at Andric and gave him a cheeky grin. “My mistake. I’ll let you guys take the next one for sure.”

The foxman snorted and shook his head.

“I can’t complain about not suffering any casualties, but yes, I think we’d like that.”

“We won!” shouted a voice from behind Tybalt. The necromancer turned and saw one of his priests, a foxman named Karl.

“Yes,” said Andric from the other side. “Yes, we did.”

“Let’s celebrate,” said Tatiana softly from his side, entwining her arms with one of his.

Andric smiled. “We can celebrate for a little while.” He looked over at Tybalt. “Right?”

“There are some things I want to test in this town,” the necromancer replied. “Everyone needs to do the same stuff they did in the last place, but there’s no reason we can’t stay the night.”

A cheer went up.

Tybalt smiled and shook his head. “Have fun, guys, you earned it!”

Then he approached the men Andric and the others had posed against the wall.

“Hey, watchmen!” the necromancer said in a lively voice.

One of the men jumped six inches into the air at the sound and almost tripped over his spear. The others flinched.

“Relax,” Tybalt said. “I just want someone to take me to the Mayor. None of you are getting hurt today. You surrendered. You made the smart choice.”

“Yes, sir,” said one of the men, nodding fervently. “There’s just one problem, you see.”

“What’s that?” the necromancer asked, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder.

The speaker swallowed and kept talking.

“You see, the Mayor took sick about a week ago - er, over a week ago, yes! - and he died.”

“Uh huh.” Tybalt looked back at the zombies and other assorted undead lining the street. None of them that he could immediately see presented itself as dressed in obviously mayoral finery.

“Is one of you the Mayor?” he sent. “Will the real Mayor please stand up?”

“The strangest thing,” said one of the other guards. “Old Lord Galba was a hearty man, but I heard that his body actually melted from this accursed pestilence! So… I’m afraid there is no one to properly surrender to you, sir. We’ve all been suffering, and there were barely enough healthy men to defend the walls as it is.”

Darn. This Lord Galba was probably strong. Maybe the next town will yield a new champion for my forces.

“Well, I might be able to fix that,” Tybalt said. “Take me to where you keep your sick.”