Chapter 38

The four abominations began to close in, apparently taking the knight's last command in the most literal way possible.

"Sleep," Lrfk said, and a puff of blue black mana shot out from her wings. All four abominations froze in place, swaying. The banshee opened her mouth to shriek a curse, then stopped with her mouth open as the wave of dark mana struck her. She rotated in the air and began to float belly-up, like a dead fish.

All around them, zombies stood still, utterly silent. Others were rushing toward the edges of the camp, seeking the Orcs who continued sniping, but the necromancer, the ghost and the harpy were surrounded by a great ring of the dormant dead. Their own new Undead slept also, passive in their chains.

"That worked better than I expected," Lrfk said.

Mir'noj let go of her tail feather. He was not visible in the dark, but Felwyn felt a puff of breath on her neck as he spoke. "It will not be enough."

"That's all right," Felwyn said. "There's more." She let go of the staff and raised both hands. (Mir'noj seized the staff before it could hit the ground. He was always careful not to let the skull get broken.) The power was there, and now she reached out for it again. It bled up from the earth, cold as ice as it flowed into her feet and upwards. A thin rope of mana began to rise from each of her hands. One glowed blue, from her right hand where Lrfk hovered. One was black, from the hand beside which Mir'noj stood.

"Death," Mir'noj whispered.

"And the Storm," Lrfk said. The two lines shot upward and coiled around each other, growing and thickening and spinning ever faster. The ends began to split, a multiplicity of lines reaching over and down toward every sleeping enemy.

Felwyn Smallfinger knew very few words of power. Ner'zirhud – and she had to step down very hard on this thought, to keep it from breaking her concentration - had not had time to teach her all he knew. So when she felt the lines touch down, a sensation as if each hand had a thousand fingers, all she said was:

"Yes."

It was enough.

---

Up on the clifftop, Veren Redmorning shouted to be heard over the hum of rising power. "Don't kill her! She's one of ours!"

Beside him, Kev'ran shot another fireball down into the camp proper. The zombie it struck was burnt to ashes. This was a very good thing, given that so far the zombies were not proving easily discouraged by having organs pierced or limbs lopped off.

"What spell is she using?" Redmorning said.

"I do not know," Kev'ran shouted back. "It is nothing I have ever seen."

Redmorning opened his mouth to ask something else, but he never remembered what it was. Below him, the blue-black light grew so bright it was blinding, and then there was... No, not a sound, because he was sure his ears did not hear anything. But there was a vibration under his feet and a feeling inside his skull, a whummm like a million angry bees.

At that point Dib Loudwhisper shoved him to the ground, so he was already down when the shock wave hit.

---

The effect was felt inside the gold mine as well. Lord Marrowice wobbled in the air, and Viri Starwater caught him before he overbalanced completely. Around him, the other Undead stumbled as well, steadying themselves against the walls. The abominations mumbled, uncomprehending. Viri seemed to be the only one who was not visibly staggered.

"What was that, Lord?" she said.
"I have no idea," he said. My ears can't be popping. I don't have any. "But I don't think it's anything of Lord Darkhallow's devising, do you?"

In the dim blue light, Viri cocked her head. "There are more heartbeats than before," she said. "I believe they are Orcs."

"Then let's get out of here," said Phage Marrowice.

---

Rokhyel Shadebreaker rose cautiously to his feet. He had not lost his grasp on his sword. He never did, and the fact that he did not sleep only made this a little easier. Around him, zombies struggled to drag themselves upright. Some of them seemed to be decaying as he watched, shreds of rotten flesh squelching on the ground as they moved.

A glaive flew out of the dark and decapitated two of them on its parabolic flight. Shadebreaker watched without moving as it whirred straight toward him. He was not at all surprised when it seemed to be caught by a patch of empty night air. Glaive faded into view as she padded closer.

"Hey, dead man," she said. "You still one piece?"

"Yes," he said. He did not ask if Glaive was all right. Anything else seemed inconceivable, and besides, he would know if she were not. Only her death could break the thread that stretched between them.

"Good. 'S going on?" the Elf said.

"Magic," Shadebreaker said. He turned to look down the rocky slope toward the center of the camp proper, where three bodies now lay inert. Around them, shreds of zombie flesh rained down out of the air, making wet squush noises. "They may still be alive. I suspect the Chieftain would rather we keep them that way."

"They blow up fifty zombies one time, not need too much help," Glaive said. She threw the weapon again, eliminating three zombies without looking. The others were staggering in their direction. Glaive caught the triple blade as she looked around. "But you probably right. You see big Human on a dead horse?"

"Where?" Shadebreaker said.

"Gold mine," Glaive said. "Got runeblade."

"I see him," Shadebreaker said. The blade glowed in the dark, and besides, the stink of death mana was very strong. Even here. Marrowice's people are already developing a mana apart from the Scourge's.

"That new knight," Glaive said. "Pretty strong. And you maybe got new pretty face, but you old."

"Yes," Shadebreaker said. "But he is a death knight, and so am I. Leave him to me."

"You say so," Glaive said, and scampered off down the hill. After a second she was invisible. Rokhyel Shadebreaker turned toward the gold mine. He had to hack down a few zombies to get there. It felt strange to strike with the blade instead of casting spells, but he could not throw the coil over the dead. They were slower than usual, disoriented, and it was not difficult. In a few moments he could see the death knight clearly. He was not an old man in his carriage or his bearing, but his face was drawn and his hair was white. The long strands were lank, outshone by the runeblade in his hand. It glowed in the darkness as black tendrils of mana coiled and uncoiled around it.

"Knight of the Scourge," Shadebreaker said.

The death knight turned in his saddle. His eyes were dark, sucking in the light. "Just who and what are you? Speak, fool."

"I am a death knight. My name is Rokhyel Shadebreaker."

"Really." The other knight frowned, pale brows drawn down over his black sockets. "Yet I note that you carry no runeblade. In fact, that is the sorriest excuse for a sword I have ever seen."

Shadebreaker hefted the rusty blade up onto one shoulder. "I was a knight for the Horde," he said. "During the Tides of Darkness."

"Neither do you seem to be sixty years old. Nor a skeleton," the other knight said. He raised the runeblade in ironic salute. "Whitecleaver, however, says that you are indeed a dead man. Call yourself what you like. I am the Lord of Darkhallow, and I will annihilate you."

"Then come," said Rokhyel Shadebreaker. Darkhallow spurred his skeletal steed forward. It balked, and threw him off. He rolled to his feet, swearing, as the dead horse ran away.

"I hate that horse," he growled.

"They are notoriously unreliable," Shadebreaker said.

"Shut up and die," said Darkhallow, and swung the runeblade. It hissed through the air like a hot iron through water, and the knight swung it far too quickly for a man holding a weapon heavier than some people. Shadebreaker was hard put to drag the sword off his shoulder in time to parry. The heavy runeblade struck the rusty sword traveling fast enough to decapitate an ogre.

Shadebreaker was driven a step back by the impact of steel on steel, but the old blade held. The tendrils of black power reached like tentacles from the runeblade, searching the surface, but they found no purchase in the pitted metal.

"An interesting trick," Darkhallow said. He betrayed no sign of effort, though the pressure he was exerting was tremendous. Shadebreaker twisted sideways to disengage, then had to step back quickly to prevent himself from being disemboweled. The runeblade sliced right through his chain mail as if it were paper, but it did not touch him.

"You are stronger than I am," Shadebreaker said. "And quick. But that blade is cursed. It will undo you."

"And what kind of blade is that?" The new knight swung again, but the Shadebreaker was ready this time. He leaned far to one side, ducking the blade, and jabbed straight forward. Darkhallow was forced to jump backward. For all his strength, the runeblade was still too heavy to treat like a rapier.

"This is an Undead blade," Shadebreaker said. "Part of my soul is in it, as part of the Lich King's is in that one."

"Then you cannot possibly do other than fail," Darkhallow said. He backed slowly away. Shadebreaker did not move to follow him, but watched.

"The difference is that this soul is my own," Shadebreaker said.

Darkhallow jerked the blade out in front of him. A mass of black tendrils shot down its length, and Shadebreaker cast his own coil just as the other knight's struck him. Black light flared, then died away.

Lord Darkhallow opened his mouth as if to speak, but only a hiss came out. His armor clattered as he fell heavily to his knees, then onto his face. He did not get up. Rokhyel Shadebreaker felt the thread break as the life left him.

"You forgot," Shadebreaker said. "The coil only works on the living."