The Lleial stared at the black sky, chanting a prayer at the wonder that surrounded them. Floria watched them from her post near the edge of the safe area. She wanted to join them, miracles didn't happen everyday, but she had a job to do.

A few weak-willed dogs had tried to leave the camp, throwing themselves to the ghosts that surrounded them. Two fools had tried to break the protective runes, they'd screamed about needing to get their family as they'd been bound and dragged away. Almost everyone was too sick in the heart to do much more than sit in their tent, only coming out to eat, drink and use the latrine. It fell on the ghosts and Lleial to keep them all safe.

Floria could feel the caress of death. It filled the air, food and water, she heard it calling out in her mind. But where the followers of Mother Sun and Father Moon feared it, shying away like terrified animals, she embraced it. Death was a part of life, a blessing for the faithful after a life of hardship. It was scary, but all new things could be terrifying, it didn't mean you shied away from them.

Climbing onto a wagon, she looked out over the horde of the dead who surrounded the camp. Nothing remained of the city, except holes where the basements and foundations had once been. Even the roads had vanished. Bare earth and rock surrounded them for miles.

The glowing darkness began to twist and churn. A freezing wind nearly knocked her off her feet. Thunder boomed, shaking the ground. The dead howled, raising their arms in supplication. The weak-willed dogs screamed and hid. Her people raised their voices, matching the shrieking that filled the air.

Sunlight shone down on them as a hole formed in the black cloud. Outside the protective runes, the darkness fell to earth like rain.

Straining to see the storm of darkness, Floria saw figures rise out of the ground. Where there had been hundreds of animated dead, there were thousands, then tens of thousands. Figures, human and inhuman, flew through the sky. Giant parodies of the humanity reared out of the earth, their roars overpowering  the thunder and wind. Skeletal monstrosities, with limbs too long to ever be mistaken for men stalked through the horde of dead. Dark figures, shadows given flesh, flitted silently around the desolate wasteland.

Tears filled her eyes. The Regua had promised them that he would destroy the demons. Now he had an army worthy of the name.

Ignoring the pain in her stomach, she whooped with glee.

Keir could feel the dead around him. There were hundreds of thousands of them. Not just the ones who had died to the demons, but so many more. All the echoes of the living that had filled the city had risen.  None of his research had led him to believe his actions could possibly be this successful.

And the dead that had arisen were beyond even his belief. With the last of the ritual fading away, his mind moved through the monstrous horde, finding new types. Golems made of flesh, bone and blood soaked stone. Flying monsters that had once been children, he'd heard of tales that spoke of things like them, but he'd never had any proof that they existed. The haunting song of sirens filled his ears, calling him to them. Shadows of death, so cold that they'd snuff out even the hottest fires, made him shiver despite being hundreds of feet away.

He could spend months just cataloguing each of the new creations.

A wave of exhaustion made him reel, despite still being on his knees. He had work to do. Reaching out with his mind, using the last of the collected energy, which was still greater than he'd ever held before, he took hold of all the dead. Fifteen thousand of them, the ones closest to him, were ordered to form a wall around the living. They would be his army.

The rest he commanded to leave and hunt down the demons. Fight them wherever they stood, chase those who fled, drag them screaming from their hiding spots, give them no rest, hound them day and night until they were dead.

Holding out his hand, Jaris stepped forward helping him up. The rush of blood to his head after sitting for so long without anything to eat made Keir stagger and the world spin. Leaning heavily on his most faithful servant, he made his way to a wagon that had been prepared for him.

Jaris picked him up like a child, stepping up onto the wagon and placed him on a makeshift bed. A Lleial came over holding a cup of soup with plenty of dark green leaves, chunks of meat and potatoes in it. He wanted to guzzle it and demand more. He forced himself to eat slowly. He wasn't starving, but eating too quickly after his ordeal wouldn't do his stomach any good.

Von came over to him. The mage looked terrible, dark circles surrounded his eyes, his face was gray. “You control the ghosts?”

“I control enough of them. The ones I couldn't control I sent out to kill demons,” Keir said. “I hadn't expected to raise so many. The city truly was filled with death.”

“Now there's nothing left.”

“I noticed.”

“No I mean there is nothing left. Your ritual not only destroyed the city, but there is barely any magic left here.”

It was hard, but Keir shifted his vision. Where the air had once been filled with death tainted energy, there was nothing. The only magic came from the living and the dead, the air and ground were barren and empty. He'd never seen anything like it in his life.

“We should leave, immediately,” he said.

Von looked at him questioningly.

“Have you or anyone else, ever seen this before?” Keir asked.

“No.”

“Neither have I. I don't know what this could do to us, and I don't want to find out. Tell Colonel Moreno that the dead around us are his to command, and we need to leave as soon as possible.”

“I'll do that,” Von said. Not wasting any time, the mage hurried off.

Sinking into his bedroll, Keir finished his soup and laid his head down. As sleep overcame him the camp bustled with activity. Despite their exhaustion, no one wanted to stay in damned and barren wasteland.

He came too early the next morning. They were on the outskirts of what had been the city of Kodor, surrounded by green grass, trees and ruins. Looking around it looked like most people had simply put a cloak or blanket down and fallen asleep. Only the dead were up and moving, making sure nothing came near their sleeping charges.

Jaris handed him a large piece of flatbread and some jerky, placing a canteen of water within easy reach. It wasn't much of a meal, but it would be filling. “Thank you,” he said.

His servant took a seat beside him. “You're plan worked, sir.”

“I saw that.”

“You did lose one of the groups, over twenty people torn apart by the dead.”

Keir winced. He needed all the living he could get, and losing trained mages was painful. “I did everything I could to protect them. It had to be done.”

“Certainly sir. Do you plan on doing this again?”

“Not if I have any other options. Finding another city that fits the requirements would be rather difficult even if I wanted to.”

“Do you even know what you've raised?”

He nodded. “I sensed all of them during the ritual. I don't know what many of them are, but I have all winter to study them. By spring I'm going to learn all of their secrets and I'll be able to raise them without so much risk. The new Undying Army is going to be truly terrifying.”

Jaris didn't respond, but his dead eyes looked troubled.

The demon moved through the warren of tunnels, the dim light that came from the slime which coated the rock was more than enough for it to see by. Despite it's lowly caste, the other much more important demons moved aside to let it past. While it was not important, what it held was.

Many humans had been questioned about the animated dead. The demons had never faced anything like them in their long history. The loses they had taken, had surprised them. What had happened in the human hive, the magic that had obliterated it and all living things within it, had scared them.

Gas, fire, explosives, guns, even magic, they had experienced before. More importantly they had overcome them before. This was different, this was new.

So they did as they always did. They learned, they adapted, and they would overcome.

The demon reached it's destination, a large, dark cavern where the highest caste on this world made its home. A delicate claw reached out of the darkness.

Keeping it's eyes low, the demon placed a sword etched with runes in the claw. A rush of pleasure ran through the demon. It had done well.

The humans had told the demons all they knew of the dead. The most valuable was how they had fought them long ago, using special runic weapons. Finding them had been difficult, but they had millions of demons to search the ruins. It had only been a matter of time.

Now all they needed to do was learn how to replicate the runes on a demon.

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Necromancer Unmanned will be updated every Sunday. My other story Doom Valley Prep School will be updated every Monday.

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