Necromantic magic surged into the large stone room that had been Keir's tomb for three centuries. His new eyes took in the scene, the guards had raised their weapons. Six of them had drawn swords that glowed a purifying blue, raising them defensively against the ghostly hands which filled the room, while the remaining two pointed their arquebus-like weapons at his chest.

Von Asger, the mage who had awakened him from death, calmly watched him. Somehow the mage was not showing even the slightest worry at facing the greatest necromancer who had ever lived, and was even now preparing to tear his soul to shreds.

Keir expected the mage to shout some order or cast a spell. The tattoos the mage had placed on the body he now inhabited, allowed the mage to control him with a single word. The necromancer was mentally recoiling in disgust at the thought of being controlled by anyone. He had been Emperor of the Erebu continent, tens of millions had bowed to him and cheered his name, he had planned on conquering the rest of the world before being assassinated. He would not be controlled.

He willed the ethereal hands to rip the guards and Von to shreds. He'd capture their souls as they fled their bodies and turn them into the first soldiers of his new army. They'd keep their minds, remembering everything they had been, weeping as they slayed his enemies, but they would obey his commands, unable to even think of disobeying him.

The hands didn't move.

What had they done to him?

Opening his mouth, Keir tried to order the hands to slaughter his enemies. The air refused to leave his lungs.

Von smirked. “Stop it,” the Blue Scholar said.

The magic holding the ghostly hands in place snapped. The tomb grew brighter as the magic faded away, taking the hands with them. The anger that filled Keir turned to sheer rage. He forced himself to keep it under control, focusing it to help him concentrate on the problem at hand. “You've put a geas on me. I should be able to break it, but you've somehow bound it into my very soul. Congratulations, I'm extremely impressed,” he growled

“We've studied your spirit and your 'Heart' for centuries. Only a handful of people in history have had your level of power. Finding a way to prevent another would be tyrant from attempting to conquer the world was considered a priority, you made a good test subject,” Von said.

“May I ask what I'm allowed to do?”

Von nodded. “Of course. It's not too onerous, we want you as an ally, not an enemy after all. You are unable to willingly harm a human being, through your own actions, spells, or ordering one of your creations to do so. Telling an army of zombies to burn a town, while the citizens are still in it, would fall under willingly harming a human.”

“Of course. And I suppose I have to obey your every command?”

“You must obey the command of any Blue level mage or higher. If given two commands, the higher ranking mage will take priority.”

“So if you ordered me to kill the guards, would I be forced to obey?”

“If I ordered it, yes,” Von said. “You are going to be our weapon, using your knowledge and power to protect what's left of humanity on Erebu and ultimately the world. If you follow orders, you will be well rewarded, and I'll only order you to obey me if you give me no other choice. We are desperate, but we don't want to be needlessly cruel. Having you willingly working with us is best for everyone.”

He nodded, understanding their concern. It didn't mean he liked what had happened, but at least he wasn't dealing with idiots. He'd still find a way to break the geas eventually and murder Von anyways, some insults couldn't be forgiven. Still he'd consider letting the mages soul depart to the afterlife unharmed. He felt his rage recede, it was still there, simmering in chest, but there were more important things to deal with.

Getting off the cold stone bed, he realized that his new body was short, over a head shorter than Von. That would take some getting used to, possibly longer then getting over the fact that he had breasts and lacked male genitalia.

Looking down he saw that his breasts were quite small, he wondered how old his body was. Shaking his head, he took his attention away from his body, he could study it later.

“Do you have some clothes for me to wear, or am I supposed to earn them as we go along?” he asked, speaking from his belly trying to make his voice a little deeper, which had only limited success.

“There's a robe over there,” Von said, pointing at a simple brown robe that was folded on a small chest. “We have a carriage waiting for us. Once we get to the keep, you'll have a chance to rest and change into something more appropriate. We'll be leaving at dawn tomorrow for Hanged Mans Pass.”

Sneering at the cheap robe that wasn't fit for one of his lowest house servants, Keir snapped his fingers, wondering how such thin and fragile things didn't break. A magical construct in the form of a translucent pretty, young maid rose from the stone floor. The construct went to the corner of the room where the shadows were darkest. Gripping the darkness, there was a ripping sound, and the construct was holding a robe made of pure darkness. It walked over to Keir, who held out his arms so she could dress him. The dark robe sealed at the front turning it into a shapeless dress.

“This won't do,” Keir said. He'd always been one to show off, why do something calmly and quietly when you could make it big and show the world your power? The clothes would have to be fixed before he made his appearance.

The cool, ethereal fabric, which was lighter than silk and felt like a second skin, shifted, turning into a pair of tight pants, and a loose billowy shirt, similar in style to what he'd worn as Emperor. It wasn't nearly as ornate, but he'd generally left tailoring to his army of servants, keeping things basic was good enough. For now.

“Are you done?” Von asked, clearly not amused.

Taking a moment to adjust his collar, Keir motioned to the exit. “Lead on.”

The guards fell in behind them, looking almost like an honour guard. For his own amusement, Keir kept his construct, directing the ghostly girl to follow a three steps behind as if she were a real servant. He hid his smile at the guards discomfort while they made their way through the maze that had protected Keir's tomb. Someone had taken the time to mark out the correct passage, painting the traps a glowing red, he wondered how many people had died finding his Heart.

It took over half an hour to reach daylight. What had been a small crack in the cliff wall concealed by trees and bushes, was now a large fort. A heavy metal gate, enchanted with several protective spells blocked the exit. A lone guard came to attention as they exited.

Keir openly studied the fort, the walls and buildings were made from rune etched stones, thick and well designed to survive cannon fire. There was a large parade ground that could easily hold five hundred men. He grinned with pleasure, thinking of how fearful he had been even in death, for them to build a fortress in this desolate area just to protect his tomb. But something struck him as odd, despite the size there were only a few dozen soldiers and a similar number of servants, women and children to be seen.

“Where are the rest of the men?” he asked, scowling at his airy voice.

“Defending the pass, or keeping order at Desolation Fort and the refugee camp,” Von said. “Now that you're alive, the remaining soldiers will march to the front lines, and the fort will be opened up to provide shelter for those fleeing the demons.”

A coach was waiting for them. The driver, who had the bearing of a well trained servant, but was wearing the stained clothes of a peasant farmer, held the door open for them. “Sir, my lady,” he said.

The driver noticed the construct, who had become almost invisible in the bright light of day. He jumped back, making a warding sign with his hands.

Laughing, Keir made his construct float into the carriage and closed the door. Von scowled at him, but didn't say anything. With the ghostly construct out of sight, the driver hurriedly climbed onto the carriage and cracked his whip. A dozen horsemen took position in front and behind the carriage.

“At least I have an honour guard,” Keir said. “I remember when it would number in the hundreds, but this will do for now.”

“You seem to be taking this all rather calmly,” Von said.

“I am, aren't I,” he replied, smiling. He'd found out at a young age that panicking, or at least showing panic would only lead to more problems. Accepting what was happening and trying to deal with it as best he could was always the better way. That attitude had allowed him to salvage the situation at the Battle of Ashes, when half his army had been caught in a magical fire that had signalled the start of a surprise attack.

Coming back to life, finding himself as a woman, learning that he was supposed to be a weapon in what sounded like a losing war, if he had ever needed a clear mind, this was it.

“Tell me about these demons that I'm suppose to fight, where did they come from?” he asked.

“Eleven years ago, reports came from the Lost River Bad Lands of monstrous creatures attacking herders and merchants. Several mercenary free companies sent to the area disappeared. The Magic Council sent their own group, they met the first Demon army. The survivors scattered, using magic to help escape the monstrous scouts and warned the nearby countries.” Von paused, his eyes distant.

“They claimed an army of monsters were coming, using magic and weapons that had never been seen before. The reports were insane, but the Eldritch Council isn't known for deceiving people or crying wolf. Scouts were sent out, militias were raised and the nearby nations prepared their soldiers.”

Keir could see where this was going. When he'd first raised his army of the dead, few had believed he could raise so many undead. They'd prepared for a conventional battle, and then he'd buried them in skeletons and zombies, while ghosts, ghouls, and worse attacked them from the rear and assassinated their leaders. It had taken over a year for his more intelligent enemies to learn how to defeat his raw numbers, and by then he had many other tricks to use.

Von continued. “The Kingdom of Asti was hit first, they fought alone, having no time to call for help from their allies. The survivors talked of flying creatures blotting out the sun, monstrosities that could shoot explosive fire from their mouths, and an endless sea of smaller demons that shredded armoured men with their claws and teeth. They slaughtered the main army sent against them, then spread out destroying farms, towns, and cities. The walled cities held out for two or three weeks, the capital survived a month before being overwhelmed. The only survivors were the ones who fled early, seeking refuge as far from the slaughter as they could.

“They sat on the ruined land for half a year after the fall of the capital. Across the continent militia and soldiers were called up, nations pledged their support, the largest army since the War of the Dead was raised. They scouted the demons lines, fought some battles trying to learn more about them, and the Council used its powers to spy far behind their lines, to learn where they had come from. More soldiers were sent to the Lost River Bad Lands, trying to learn the Demons plans. Again none returned.”

The mage closed his eyes, shuddering as he spoke. “I was there for the first campaign of the Coalition. We had scouted the Demons lines, fought with them, and thought we had a plan to strike the first real blow that would force them back. For a week, the Grand Army of Humanity advanced into demon held land, slaughtering thousands of the creatures. We took casualties. For every demon we killed, we lost two men, but we were winning, learning their weaknesses and strengths, and more reinforcements were coming. Then they fell on us from all sides, giant worms dug holes behind our hastily formed lines, unleashing hordes of imps and hell hounds. Screechers came from the sky, snatching up soldiers, biting out their throats and dropping the bodies on our men.

“I was trained as a healer then, a mere yellow novice who was supposed to assist the true healers. I was near the rear, where the fewest demons were attacking. Somehow I found myself in a large group of soldiers who cut their way free, we fled for our lives while the Grand Army, a 150,000 strong, was slaughtered virtually to a man,” Von said, his eyes distant and his voice nearly a whisper.

Keir had known decades of war, he knew what the horrors of it could do to a person, he'd purposefully used terror many times to his advantage. Von had either been in the thick of it, or he was the greatest actor of all time.

“They've been expanding every since?” he asked.

“Yes. We learned how to slow them down, even pushed them back a few times, but there is always more of them and fewer of us. We're split up now. A few million humans, beaten, hungry, knowing we're going to die, fighting our individual battles, defending mountain valleys, a few peninsula's and islands. It's been over a year since we've heard of a ship arriving from the other continents, and the last ones arrived merely to take those who were willing to pay a fortune for refuge. They're building up their own defenses, as well as preparing fleets to keep the demons from their shores. We've been abandoned, many are just waiting to die.”

Rubbing his chin, wishing he had a beard instead of the smooth, sensitive skin he had now, Keir thought about the situation. Returning to his tomb and slitting his throat to wait for a more opportune time to be resurrected was looking fairly appealing at the moment.

He shook his head, he couldn't think that way. He had never been one to back down from a challenge, and if he wanted to regain his power, what better way than saving the world? If he couldn't figure out how to make himself the most powerful ma- woman, on the continent, and possibly the world, by the time this was done, he didn't deserve to survive. A savage grin slowly formed.

Von saw the grin and didn't look pleased. “I don't see how this is a happy occasion.”

“I'm just thinking of all the material I have to work with. There are quite a few ideas I'm just dying to try.” Seeing the look of disgust on the mages face, he began to laugh.

___

This story, along with Doom Valley Prep School, and The Oubliette, will be updated every two weeks without fail.

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Looking out the carriage window at Desolation Fort, Keir decided it needed a name change it was hardly desolated now.

The small mountain valley was thick with people. Acrid smoke assaulted his nose, the people were burning anything they could for heat and cooking. Almost as bad as the smoke was the stench of unwashed bodies and overflowing latrines. Soldiers stood guard over some pathetic fields, that would possibly feed a thousand or so people. The fort itself was an ugly thing at the far end of the valley, stretching between two cliffs, preventing anyone from entering the valley without permission.

“I'm amazed you haven't had any outbreaks of cholera or disease,” he said. During his campaigns he'd had to deal with both of them far too often. Fortunately half of his army had been animated dead, it made sanitation easier, and he could raise the dead to increase his ranks. It still wasn't good for morale among the living soldiers or their families back home.

“We've had both,” Von replied. “The last flu outbreak took over a thousand souls. There aren't enough tools, medicine, tents or healthy people to do even a quarter of what's required. Everything and every healthy person has gone to defend the pass.”

Looking at a large area of overturned dirt and gravel, he could feel the death energy rising from the spot. They'd resorted to mass graves, rather than burning the bodies, probably because there wasn't enough material to burn. A thought came to him, if he was going to regain his former standing he might as well start now.

“Can we stop? I would like to help these people.”

Von looked at him curiously. “You want to help?”

He gave the mage a stern look, which didn't feel right since he had to look up at Von to do it. “Despite what my enemies said, I ran my cities well, and avoided unnecessary deaths among my subjects.”

“You think these people are your subjects?” the mage asked, he sounded curious rather than accusatory.

“If I'm to fight these demons, I'm going to need healthy, living people. The dead are terrible at making tools, farming, or fighting without proper instructions. These people are needed, and if they're sick or too weak to work, they're useless to us. Now,” Keir said, keeping his voice calm and even, “I'm making a request as befits my current position. Will you allow it?”

There was a long pause, as Von thought it over. With the carriage moving at a crawl through the crowd, this wasn't exactly a problem. Finally, the mage leaned out the window, “Stop. We're going to do something to help the refugees,” he shouted at the coachman and the soldiers.

Stepping out of the carriage, Keir cursed to himself at having to hop down the steps. Couldn't they have found him a taller body to be resurrected into? Climbing awkwardly up beside the coachman, he managed to make it onto the roof of the carriage without falling or looking like a complete fool.

Looking at the mass of people, most of whom were staring back at him, he realized that he had to look extremely odd. For the first time he noticed that his scalp was bare of hair, likely so they could put one of their control tattoos onto him. So they were staring at a bald, tattooed teenage girl, wearing male clothes made out of pure shadow. He had to grin, at least he wasn't forgettable.

Carefully thinking over his words, wanting to avoid scaring the crowd, he cast a minor spell. Then for the first time in three hundred years Keir spoke to the masses, his voice amplified so all could hear.

“People! I am Keira, a powerful mage. I have only just arrived, and tomorrow I'll be going to the front lines to support the soldiers and destroy the demon army that has hounded you for far too long. But today, I am going to help you.

“You need proper latrines, wells, and security, I will provide all of that. Stay where you are and allow my magic to help you as best I can,” he said.

Raising his arms, he collected the ambient magic to him, mixing it with the death energy that permeated the air. Bending it to his will, he sent it to the mass graves, forcing it to enter the bodies under the dirt. As he felt each body begin to rise, he mentally twisted it so the zombies and skeletons would automatically collect a trickle of ambient magic. That magic would allow them to remain animated for decades, without relying on his own personal power.

Some people screamed as the dirt was shoved aside and the dead crawled out of the earth. The guards looked nervously, first at him and then to Von. Before the panic could get out of hand, Von stepped out of the carriage, moving to the front of the carriage.

“Everyone,” Von said, using his own spell to be heard over the noise, “this may seem alarming, but you have my word that Keira has not only my permission but my trust. While her magic may seem frightening, she is using it to help us all.”

The mage's calm assurance helped and the crowd, while still wary, no longer seemed ready to bolt. Keir gave him a small bow of thanks, before turning back to the growing number of animated dead. With a thought, he sent most of the zombies to the edges of the refuge, where half of them used rocks and bits of bone to break up the hard earth and the rest carried it away, slowly creating several long lines of latrines.

Casting another spell, Keir felt for water under the earth. It didn't come as naturally as casting necromantic spells, but he'd had plenty of practice with the spell while leading his army. Sensing the nearest source of clean water, he directed the skeletons, who were mostly free of rotting flesh, to start digging wells, using the same crude method the zombies were using.

Without shovels or picks, the digging would be slow, but the dead wouldn't get tired or injured, and there were a lot of them. By morning the people would have access to clean water, and wouldn't be stepping in their own waste.

Breaking the last hundred zombies into groups of ten, he waved to the officer in charge of the horsemen. The man came over and looked up at Keir, his expression a touch softer than it had been earlier.

“What's your name, sir?” Keir asked.

“LieutenantAgrippa,” the officer said.

“Lieutenant, tell whoever is in charge of the soldiers by the fields, that those ten groups of zombies are his to control. They just need a living person in charge and they'll follow whatever orders they're given,” he explained. Another thought came to him. “Also when the labourers have completed their tasks, have someone in uniform order them to clean up the waste and do any other task that needs doing. I've created them to follow orders from soldiers and no one else.”

That got a single nod of acknowledgement, then the lieutenant turned away and ordered one of his men to pass on the word.

Keir had been hoping for a bit more gratitude, but he didn't take it too personally. They had been told all about the 'evils' he had done for three centuries, it would take a while to counter the rhetoric. Seeing the masses looking in awe at his creations, he knew he was off to a good start. When his creations proved their use, the awe would turn to appreciation.

With his magic still coursing through him, he mentally commanded his servant construct to rise out of the carriage. The ghostly woman stood silently by his side waiting for an order. Casting his mind outwards, Keir thought about what he wanted, a dutiful and skilled servant. From the death energy a personality took form, taking bits and pieces from the remnants of memories that filled the air. When it felt right, he joined the gestalt personality into the construct.

Before his eyes, his servant shifted, growing older, it's blonde hair turning to black, the dress became less ornate, going from a dark blue with yellow trim, to a dull brown with a white apron, finally her chest began to move as if she were breathing. Her almost black eyes looked around with polite curiosity, then she saw Keir.

“My lady,” the construct said, curtsying, “how may I be of service?”

“I'm not your la-” Keir began to say. Then his situation once again struck him, and he had to chuckle, which sounded far too much like a giggle. “I don't require your services at the moment. Simply stay by my side and be ready to serve, Hanina,” he told her.

The servant, named after his head maid when he'd been emperor, silently curtsied and stepped back waiting for orders. Satisfied that the essentials were now taken care of, Keir awkwardly climbed off the roof and got back in the carriage, followed by Von and Hanina, both of whom had a much easier time of it. He hated being short.

The mage studied the now intelligent servant, who stared impassively back at him. “Did you use a soul to make her?” he asked.

“No. I don't usually work with souls unless I feel the person needs to be tortured,” Keir said, remembering his earlier threat to tear apart Von's soul. “The soul vanishes almost immediately after death. Don't ask me where it goes, I don't know, you'll have to study religion to find your answer. I just took pieces of personalities to create her.”

“Personalities?”

“When the body dies, the soul leaves, but something remains, it's not a shadow of the soul, more like a memory. Particularly strong memories can form ghosts, reliving moments of their life, or becoming a thing of pure emotion. It's much easier to use a personality, taking pieces of them to create the perfect servant, then it is to bind a soul.”

Von nodded in understanding. “Some of the scholars who studied your Heart, speculated about something like that. They wanted to do research into it, but were forbidden by the Council.”

Shaking his head at the foolishness of the Eldritch Council, Keir remembered how his own research had been looked at with horror in his own time. It was why he had created the Necromantic College, so he and his peers could study in peace. “I suppose most of my research was destroyed after my death.”

“Yes, but not by the Council. With your death, your empire split apart completely, your students and magical peers fought each other for power. The College was destroyed, along with a large portion of Anwen, in the fighting. It signalled the end, and most of your vassals and allies surrendered in return for leniency,” Von said.

A thought insisted on pushing itself into his mind. He'd been holding it back as best he could, but hearing how his lifes work had burned, the question wouldn't be denied. “And my children?”

The mage watched him with sad and weary eyes for a moment before answering. “Most were confirmed killed in the chaos, mostly by rivals hoping to take over your empire by removing those with a claim to the throne, or people hoping that by destroying your line they would gain favour with your enemies, or your enemies wanting to punish your family. Your two eldest were killed when you were assassinated, part of the plot to destabilize your empire. A few vanished in the chaos, if they survived they never came forward.”

Keir had known when he made the Heart, he would likely be resurrected long after his children and wives died. He had created it more out of curiosity and ego, to see if he truly could do it, not to become some immortal emperor, so his line of succession had been clear. Still hearing that all of his children, even the infants, had been slaughtered like dogs, was a dagger in his chest.

Von put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “If you wish, when we reach the keep you can talk to a priest. We have several, all of whom are experienced at providing support.”

“No need,” he said, forcing his grief away. The only emotion he could allow himself was carefully focused anger. “If I'm to fight demons tomorrow, my time is best spent studying how to kill them.”

___

This story, along with Doom Valley Prep School, and The Oubliette, will be updated every two weeks without fail.

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, see snippets of potential stories, and have a chance to choose what I write next, you can support me on my Patreon page.

Keir, Von and Hanina were escorted through the halls of the keep at the center of Desolate Fort to the main hall. The escort watched them warily, particularly the ghostly maid who floated silently behind Keir. The necromancer wondered how the dignitaries would act when they met. So far he'd been greeted mostly by fear and wariness, he could understand why they felt like that, but it was getting annoying.

“Shall I introduce you as Keir or Keira?” Von asked.

“Since you saw fit to resurrect me as a woman, Keira is more appropriate,” he replied. “However if you could call me Former Emperor Keira, I would appreciate it.”

“I don't believe that would set peoples minds at ease,” the mage said.

“Would Master of the Necromantic College, Grand General of the Undying Army, Prince of Port Krakan, High Lord of the Trgovac Alliance, Marque of Iron Mountain, Earl of the Western Isles, and Viscount of Vodopad City, be more appropriate? I have several dozen more titles I could use if you give me a few minutes to remember them all. Usually I have a herald to recite them for me, but my last herald is three hundred years dead.”

“You will have to settle for merely being Mage Keira.”

“Pity, it took me quite a while to acquire all those titles, it's a shame I can't use them.” Smiling, he strode into the large main hall, where a dozen well dressed men and women were waiting. Guards lined the wall, their hard faces made it clear they were ready to kill if given the order. Servants stood at attention, prepared to serve as needed.

He followed Von to the middle of the room, where they stopped and looked up at an old man wearing a white outfit that looked like an officers dress uniform. The mage did a small half bow to the man and the other dignitaries. Keir stood motionless for several seconds, looking them all in the eyes before nodding in their direction.

“High Commander Alder,” Von said, “it is my pleasure to introduce Mage Keira, formerly Master Keir of the Necromantic College.”

“So your experiment was successful,” Alder said. He glared at Keir, his hands clenched on the arms of his chair. “Is it controlled?”

“The binding tattoos worked. She has to obey my orders and cannot harm a human, however she is freely choosing to work with us. Mage Keira has already used her powers to help the refugees.”

An elderly woman wearing robes that looked similar to a High Priestess of the Sun and Moon, spoke, “We saw your undead rising from the ground. The guards were nearly called out to deal with them.”

“When Mage Keira saw how the refugees were suffering, she asked for my permission to help them. The undead are under the control of the soldiers in the camp, and have merely obeyed the orders they were given, digging wells and proper latrines,” Von said.

The priestess and several others turned to look at Keir with renewed interest. High Commander Alder's expression might as well have been carved in stone.

“Prove to us that it is under your control,” the old man said.

“Would you prefer I dance like a monkey, or shall I bray like an ass for your entertainment?” Keir asked, stepping forwards. They had resurrected him, they had bound him to their will, and now this old man was treating him like a thing not worthy of being considered human. He would not stand for it.

“Keira,” Von said in a warning tone.

“High Commander Alder,” he continued, ignoring the warning, “I am the greatest necromancer to ever live. I ruled this continent three hundred years ago, and fought the world to a stalemate until I was assassinated. Now I find myself here, my soul bound by my lessers, and I've been told I must fight an army of demons. If I wasn't under this geas, do you truly believe I'd willingly stand here being insulted by the likes of you?”

The guards stepped forward, weapons drawn, he ignored them.

“Now will you provide us with food and a place to rest for the night, before I go to face these demons that have slaughtered your people and forced you to hide away in your keep, or are we just wasting our time?”

“You'll do,” Alder said. He waved a servant forward. “Show her to her room, she is to remain there until General Ajani calls for her. Make sure she has everything she needs.”

The servant hesitantly came up to Keir, making a protective symbol as he looked at Hanina. “Mage Keira, if you would please follow me,” he said, his voice soft and pleading.

“Lead on,” he told the servant, turning his back on the dignitaries.

It was a short ways to a large, well appointed room where three women waited. The eldest was an old crone with dark grey hair, the other two, young girls barely ready to leave their parents side, all of them in ill fitting servant dresses The servant having completed his task didn't quite run from the room.

The maids stared wide eyed at him, then they saw his ghostly servant.

Keir watched in surprise as tears welled up in their eyes, the oldest one actually broke into a grin. They went to their knees, bowing down so their foreheads touched the floor. “Praise Sephtis for allowing you to return, Regua,” the oldest one said.

Her accent was thick, mixing words from several different languages into a strange pidgin, nothing like the language Von or the guards spoke. It took him a moment to work out what she was saying. “I'm not your ruler, and death did not allow me to return,” he said.

They ignored him.

“We are the Lleial. We have awaited your return since you were betrayed. The prophecy said you would return in our hour of greatest need, and now you stand before us once again,” the old woman said, her head still firmly planted on the ground.

“Praise Sephtis. Praise Regua.” the girls chanted.

Keir was used to being praised and cheered as a leader, being treated as a holy figure, that was different. And while it was enjoyable seeing that at least some people were happy that he was alive once more, what he needed was information, not blind devotion.

“You honour me with your praise. However it is time to serve me, stand up, draw me a bath and bring me some food,” he said.

The women practically jumped to their feet, rushing to do his bidding. A brass tub in the corner of the room was filled by the girls with water that had already been heated in a small side chamber, while the old woman poured scented oils in the water. As they worked, Hanina helped Keir strip out of his clothes.

When the tub was ready, he stepped in, sighing in relief as muscles he hadn't realized were stiff, slowly loosened. The youngest girl left to get some food, while the others gently scrubbed him cleaned. They weren't very good at it, treating him more like an infant than an adult, but it would do for now. Still his thoughts went back to his time at the imperial palace, where he had had a pool of heated water and an army of servants and wives ready to wash him, massage his muscles, entertain him with music and plays, or pleasure him.

“What are your names?” he asked.

“You honour us by asking, Regua. I am Adria of the 6th Cuirassiers,” the old woman said. Then she pointed first at the older girl, then the younger one. “This is Elia of the 10th Lancers. The youngest is Galia of the 1st Cuirassiers.”

His curiosity grew, why were they claiming to be from cavalry regiments? “So you are the Lleial? What does that mean?” he asked.

“We are the ones who stayed loyal,” Adria replied. “When you were betrayed, Regua, the Undying Army fought on for years, refusing to surrender to the dogs who had to use trickery and lies to kill you. They grew tired and many of them chose to surrender, so they could return to their lands and homes. We fought on. Most of the Llieal were in the cavalry, those who weren't soon learned how to ride so we could stay ahead of the dogs that hunted us. We made them pay for their crimes against you during The Running War.”

Her voice was full of pride and steel. Her history was almost certainly coloured by the stories of defeated warriors who refused to bend the knee. Still Keir had to smile at the thought of his soldiers refusing to simply surrender and plead for mercy as his empire broke apart. “How did your people survive the centuries?”

“We travelled to the Tuul Desert, Regua. Those who dared to follow us were killed. It was hard at first, a just penance for failing you. But we survived, growing strong, raising our Nens.” Adria stopped seeing his questioning look.

“Our horses, they are as much a part of us as our hands, so we call them our children. Nens in our language,” she explained. “Sometimes we would raid those near us, other times we would trade. We trained our young to be fierce warriors, strong traders, and expert scouts, so we could serve you when you return.”

Keir nodded in understanding. Now he knew why her accent was strange, and why she used a mixture of words from several different languages. His Undying Army had been made up of people from all over the continent, they had all been taught to speak the language of Anwen, but the soldiers hadn't lost their native tongues. They must have created their own new language from all the different varieties. Still one thing bothered him.

“What is this prophecy you mentioned?”

“You are testing me, Regua,” she said, her eyes shining with religious fervour. “It is an easy test, every child of the Llieal learn of the prophecy at their mothers breast. During the darkest days of The Running War, Luka, our First Priest of Sephtis, had a vision of you standing at the gate of eternal death. You told him to seek a place of safety, to grow strong and wait for your return. When the enemy seems overwhelming and all hope is lost, you would return. The strongest and bravest of the Llieal will rise up, forming the spearhead of the Undying Army, serving you in life and death, bringing a new age of glory to your people.”

As he listened to the woman speak, Keir's heart grew heavier. He'd never cared much for religion, he'd supported the regional religions as long as the priesthood didn't speak out against his rule. A few times he'd had to quietly remove outspoken speakers and replace them with more pliable ones. It had always been a matter of bringing stability to the area, he personally had had little time for gods and spirits that cared more for the immaterial side of life, than the physical here and now.

Now he was supposed to be a weapon against an army of demons that had defeated every army placed before them, while being seen as a monster by many, and he was also some kind of saviour to religious fanatics. The situation just kept getting better.

The door opened and the young girl, Galia, stepped in holding a covered platter. Kneeling down beside the tub, she placed the platter on the side table and took the lid off, revealing a meager assortment of gristly, boiled meat, a small bun, a few spoonfuls of boiled rice, and a bowl of dried apple slices. “I'm sorry, Regua,” she said, “this was all they had to offer.”

Adria saw the pitiful meal and rose to her feet. “Stupid, faithless girl! Offering the Regua such a meal! The demons should have eaten you!”

The girl lowered her head as the old woman strode around the tub, hand raised to beat her.

“Wait!” Keir said. He frowned at his voice, instead of a commanding boom, it was more of a high pitched yell. He'd have to work on that when he had time.

Adria fell to her knees, head down. “I'm sorry, Regua. It is your place to punish the girl, not mine.”

This wouldn't do. Keir wasn't used to having to explain things to his servants, but allies of any kind were desperately needed, and these three women were the best he was going to get for now. He needed them working for him, not treating him as some holy figure that needed to be treated like glass.

“I'm not going to punish anyone, Adria. We are in a siege and people are starving, I cannot and will not expect a grand feast,” he said. “Now how many of the Llieal are there?”

“Thank you for your mercy, Regua,” the woman said. “In the camp there are two thousand of us, mostly children and mothers, along with a few elders such as myself. In the army there are just over a thousand, everyone who can ride a horse, fire a gun and use a sword.”

“There used to be over ten thousand of us,” the middle girl, Elia, said, speaking for the first time.

Keir looked at her closely for the first time, seeing the tears slowly falling, how her frail body shook, fear and grief was clearly written on her face. “I'm sorry for everything you've gone through,” he said, keeping his voice soft, surprisingly easy in his new body.

“Where were you?” the girl demanded, her dark brown eyes piercing him. “We fought until the demons made our land run with blood, slaughtering us like goats at a festival. Then we came here, crossing the continent seeking salvation. We were stalked and hunted like dogs, split apart so they could kill us at their leisure. We're broken, and only now do you come to save us? There's nothing left to save.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Adria and Galia cowering in the corner, clutching each other in fear of what he was about to do to the impertinent girl. His own ghostly servant merely stood off to the side, her eyes down, uncaring of what he might do. Silently he cursed the man who three centuries before had made a nonsense prophecy, either from insanity or as a desperate measure to keep the moral of his people from cracking. He had never wanted to be a god or holy figure, wealth, power, and knowing he had shaped history was more than enough for him.

He got out of the tub, Elia jerked back, shaking like a leaf, but refusing to look away. Hanina came forward wrapping him in a soft robe. Dripping wet, Keir kept his expression sombre, wishing he was dressed and in a more commanding position.

“Elia,” he said, “there are things you and even I cannot understand. I wish I had been there to fight beside your people at the start, that wasn't possible. There are rules and I cannot break them.”

She was still glaring at him. Words alone couldn't erase the belief that he had personally allowed them to die. Collecting a tiny bit of magic, he made the air darken, a shadowy construct rose from the floor, his eyes turned black and fragments of shadow circled him. In a bit of inspiration he used some of the energy to make his voice deeper.

The girl broke. Falling to her knees, she covered her head, likely expecting him to strike her dead.

Kneeling down, he gently took her by the chin and made her look at him. Then he spoke. “I am sorry for the slaughter you witnessed and the loss you have suffered. I cannot change the past, but I promise on my life and soul that every surviving Llieal is now under my protection. I will scour the continent to find any survivors and bring them under my banner. Starting tomorrow, for every Llieal who was killed, I will slaughter a thousand demons and rid the world of their kind forever. I swear this to you, Elia of the 10th Lancers.”

With a thought, he made the faceless construct move towards him, placing a hand on his head. Shadows filled the room, blotting out the light as a thunderous boom erupted all around them. A second later he made the magic vanish. The room was back to normal, and the women were staring at him in astonishment. Elia in particular had lost much of her anger.

“Now,” he said, putting a hand on the girls cheek, “I want you to go and tell everyone of your people my promise to you. Give them hope.”

Elia almost fell over getting back to her feet. “Yes, Regua. I will,” she said, nearly as reverently as Adria.

Watching her run out of the room, Keir wondered if he had done the right thing. He needed the people to hope, but turning himself into a holy leader was not something he had planned or ever desired. Shaking his head, he forced himself to put the misgivings aside. Von hadn't given him any warning of this, and if given the choice, a horde of obedient religious fanatics was better than a mob of the angry and hopeless.

Taking a seat at the small table, he turned to the two women. “Tell me about the demons. How do they fight and how do we kill them?” he asked, before taking a bite of the pitiful food.

__

The Necromancer Unmanned will be updated every Sunday night. My other story The Oubliette, will be updated every second Friday, and Doom Valley Prep School will be updated every Monday.

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, look at background info, see snippets of potential stories, and have a chance to choose what I write next, you can support me on my Patreon page.

Keir pored over a paper that explained what little was known about the demons biology. Mostly it told how to kill the various types. A large pile of similar papers sat on the small desk of his room. He had sent his living maids to their small ensuite sleeping quarters, leaving only Hanina silently massaging his shoulders, as company.

The demons were going to be a challenging enemy. They appeared to be living weapons, the smallest ones, Imps, Dark Hounds and Gnashers relied on speed and numbers to swarm opponents, bringing them down with razor sharp claws and teeth. Larger ones, Brutes, Crushers, Reapers and Renders, were slower, but well armoured, able to take several gun shots to the abdomen, and occasionally even surviving head shots. They would attack en masse with the smaller ones, relying on sheer numbers and strength to reach their foes.

They also had flying creatures called Screechers. They weren't very numerous, and they were easily killed. So they usually attacked scouts, artillery crews, lightly defended positions, and if absolutely necessary would attack a strong point to buy time for other demons to get close and attack.

Then there was the largest demon. The Gigantes were massive armoured beasts that were more like stone walls, even surviving light artillery fire if hit from the front. If they weren't killed, they would hit the line of humans or a stone wall and trample everything before it. Only deep trenches or the thickest walls would stop them. And while they were being dealt with the smaller demons would be hiding behind it or swarming the defenders.

Two Demons were more like living artillery. The Cannon Mouth was fed boulders or anything available, by Imps and spit them out like a cannonball with enough force to travel over a mile and shatter stone. The other was called the Horn Blower, it was an infantry killer. It could let out a shriek that burst mens lungs and eyes, leaving them utterly deaf if they survived.

There were others used on the battlefield in smaller numbers. The Vile released a stream of acid from forty feet away, dissolving anything organic. The Jumper would run at a group of humans, jump a great distance over fortifications and release a toxic gas, killing or blinding and burning everything around it.

The worst one was The Worm. They were as tall as a large horse and very long. They would burrow under the ground behind the defensive lines, then rise to the surface. The demon itself could only kill a human by thrashing its body around, but its tunnel was always swarming with smaller demons. If enough of them opened their tunnels it would lead to disaster as the fighters were swarmed on both sides.

The final demon that was confirmed and not just a source of rumours, was The Shadow. It would slip past guards, melding into shadows, virtually invisible, and slay officers, leaders, and other important figures, but it seemed to be made specifically for mages. Fortunately it seemed to be rare, only appearing when the demons faced particularly tough opposition. Keir frowned at this, it proved the Demons were intelligent, and he'd probably be facing it soon enough.

The only advantages humanity had were magic and explosives.

The demons seemed to have some magic of their own, but it was only defensive, used to stop scrying, and to form a shield if a ritual was going to tear apart their army. On the battlefield it was never used, allowing mages to use their magic as they pleased.

While learning that magic was very useful in the war was encouraging, Keir was more impressed by the vast increase in explosives. Landmines, explosive shells from something called artillery, he presumed that they were more advanced cannons, hand bombs, and rapid firing guns, the advances in weapons in a mere three hundred years was amazing.

But sheer numbers and strength had pushed humanity back. If the demons ran into a defense they couldn't swarm, they went around it, cutting it off from resupply. Constant probes and minor attacks would eventually make the defenders run out of gunpowder, weapons, food, and manpower, then they attacked the weakened corpse.

Large rivers, lakes and the ocean were the biggest obstacle. Some could swim or fly over the water, but the largest drowned. Instead the demons went around, finding a ford, a bridge, or simply travelling upstream to its source and going around it, sweeping downriver like a flood. And if that didn't work they had other means of crossing.

The island city of Ilha, on the Reka River, had contained a million people and held out against the demons for three years, surviving on fish and supplies coming down the river. Eventually the demons had pushed hundreds, possibly thousands of their gigantes into the water, letting them drown, and trampling them down with yet more demons. Eventually they created a bridge and destroyed the city.

Keir had to admire the simplicity of the solution, even as he shuddered at the thought of facing such creatures.

He allowed himself a few moments of silence after reading about the fate of Ilha. He remembered spending several pleasant weeks in the city after they agreed to join his empire. His treasury had given the people a festival that would be remember for a generation. The palace had been a wonder of the continent, shining like the moon when he'd married Princess Katherine, sealing their alliance.

Putting the paper down, he sighed in tiredness, frustration and thought. He dearly wished General Moreno was alive. While Keir had proven to be a capable general, he had learned everything from his old friend. People paid so much attention to his undead, most of them didn't realize it had been Moreno that had truly allowed his empire to expand and hold out against all comers during the long war.

“Moreno would already have a strategy to slaughter every demon on the continent,” he muttered.

Unless he could find another military genius, it looked like he'd be facing the demons on a mostly even field, a massive army of the undead who didn't die easily, against a massive army of demons who didn't die easily.

That wouldn't do. He had made it a point to never meet the enemy on an even playing field. “How can I tilt things in my favour?” he asked himself.

If only he knew what living forces he had at his disposal, he could come up with a real plan. Looking out the window, he saw it was well into the night, and no one had deigned to consult him. A servant had given him the papers hours earlier and then they had seemingly forgotten about him. It seemed like he was supposed to be a brainless weapon that merely followed orders.

That wouldn't do at all.

Going to the window, Keir stared into the night. His eyes shifted looking at the magic and energy that roiled and writhed in the air. Concentrating he wove hundreds of ghostly constructs into existence. Inside each one he placed a basic personality, they wanted to look over the human army at the pass, studying their weapons, behaviour, armour, defenses and food. Then they would scour the surrounding area of the pass, looking for demons, counting them, learning where they were and how healthy they seemed.

Finally he gave them an order to avoid each other after they were done looking over the humans, staying at least one hundred yards from the nearest construct. It was crude, and would lead to them missing demons and important details, but it was the easiest way to ensure they didn't all look at the same thing.

“I don't need detail, just a general picture,” he told himself. Perfection was the enemy of success, better a good enough action now, then the perfect one an hour late.

Releasing the constructs with a final instruction to return by dawn, he watched their faint forms disappear into the darkness. Yawning, he took of his robe and went to bed. He would need all his energy the next day if he was going to survive.

**

“Father!” Estelle shouted, rushing over to give Keir a hug. “I didn't know you were coming.”

He returned the hug, wondering how his daughter had reached seventeen so quickly. “I wanted it to be a surprise. It took a bit of work convincing Elijah to only give me an escort of fifty men, so you wouldn't hear us arrive. The other three hundred will be arriving soon, along with the army of servants and bureaucrats.”

“He agreed to that,” she said, wide eyed with shock.

“I also have all of my ghosts with me. He told me if he saw one ghost left with the entourage, he'd come charging along with horns blowing.” Releasing his daughter, he gratefully sat in a nearby chair. At sixty he couldn't spend several day on a horse as easily as he once did. “Now what did you think of the five suitors?” he asked.

Taking a seat across from him, Estelle muttered a quick spell, filling two empty goblets with wine from the cellar for them. As he sipped his drink, she began playing with her thick, curly black hair. “Considering the trouble with the aristocrats along the Yellow Coast, I should marry Prince Acastus.”

Keir heard the briefest of hesitations in her voice. “Do you like him?”

She wrinkled her nose. “He is a bit too pompous for my liking. He believes his family name and their former position as leaders of the region, make it only proper that we marry and you bestow him a position worthy of his status.”

“He'll take whatever position I see fit to give him, and kiss my feet for the honour,” he replied. “Which one did you actually like?”

“Eyob caught my eye. He is very talented with magic, and I've enjoyed walking with him in the gardens. He has some very interesting ideas for increasing the grain yield of the Kurmanji region.”

Smiling, Keir nodded at her choice. He was sure that his daughter wasn't at all interested in how handsome the young man was, or his reputation as a poet. “Very well, I'll send a message to the High Duchess, informing her of your choice. We'll hold the wedding a year from today.”

“But what about Prince Acastus? If I marry him, it will help settle the region,” she said.

He took her hand in his. “I gave you a choice of five suitors. Each of them are important in their own way, and your marriage to any of them will help the Empire. If I believed I needed to marry you to some overblown prince, I would, but that is not the case. So be happy that you can marry a man you like, while also doing your duty. Now summon your maids, we're having an engagement feast tonight and you must look the part. I'll tell Eyob the news.”

**

Keir slowly woke up from his dream, his pillow wet with tears.

Wiping his still crying eyes, he wondered why he had relived a memory instead of a more typical dream. “Maybe it's a side affect of resurrection,” he told himself.

He'd have preferred a nightmare to memories of his lost family.

Getting out of bed, he relieved himself without too much difficulty in the bathroom. The facilities were different from his time, with ingenious plumbing, but it was easy enough to use. Dealing with his own changed plumbing was not so much difficult as surprising. He was quite familiar with the female body, having studied many such bodies scientifically and intimately. Finding himself in a female body was rather different however.

He didn't have time to worry about such things. Today he would meet his army, and hopefully he would be able to talk to the general, so they could work out a strategy that would let them survive to fight another day.

Going to the window, he saw that it was still an hour or so before dawn. Wrapping a light blanket over his shoulders, he took a seat and silently called his ghostly constructs back to him. Many of them were already on the way back, so he didn't have to wait long for the first to arrive.

As they got close enough, his mind filled with images of what they had seen. From long practice he was able to move through the memories, focusing on what he needed while forgetting the unnecessary ones.

The fortifications were several rows of hastily dug trenches, with dirt thrown up in piles to protect the soldiers and slow the demons. Logs, rocks and odd looking wires were spread out before them, to slow the demons a little more and break up their attack into more manageable waves. A few strange looking cannons, most likely the artillery he had read about, were well behind the lines, protected by swivel guns against the flying screechers.

It wasn't much, but at least it had been made competently.

The soldiers on the other hand made Keir's heart sink.

Men and women were sleeping fitfully, huddled together against the cool night air, guns held in sleeping hands. They were ragged, filthy and thin, the majority had dirty bandages covering wounds. Too many of the soldiers who were still awake were drinking, sometimes alone, other times together. Even drunk, they had a defeated look in their eyes.

The sentries who looked over the dark field before them, were half asleep from exhaustion. Some were drinking from their flasks, others silently cried, a few were slumped over not even bothering to keep watch. Many of those who were awake were shaking in fear, clutching their guns or flasks like a lifeline.

Behind the lines, was the cavalry. The horses were well cared for, but the riders who slept near them were half starved, sleeping on top of ragged, threadbare blankets, with only their clothes to protect them from the cool air. Almost all of them were wounded, and they were as filthy as the infantry, but their ranks and the fact that they were all sleeping showed they still had some order left to them.

Keir had seen many armies like this in his time. His enemies would see the massive Undying Army advancing, hear the moaning of the undead, catch glimpses of his ghosts as they scouted their lines, and at night their would be a sea of campfires, lighting up the darkness. Smaller, poorly led armies had broken, with soldiers slinking away into the darkness never to return, or planning to break as soon as they could when the battle started. The ones with good leaders had stayed in formation, planning to fight, but knowing they would die.

This army was waiting to die. They had given everything they had, and there was nothing left in them.

Turning to the demons, he saw the forest filled with the monstrosities. Long limbed dark hounds, covered in thick almost spike like fur, with mouths that opened too wide and four tiny glowing yellow eyes slept together in small packs. Sexless, child sized Imps with thick, leathery skin, long talons on their feet and hands, and needle sharp teeth in grinning mouths, sleepily bickered and poked at each other as they huddled in mounds of bodies. Two legged, scaled Gnashers, with massive jaws and teeth and little else, didn't seem to sleep, instead they ate anything they came close to, plants as well as dead humans, animals and even demons, ripping off huge chunks of wood and flesh, losing most of it as they sloppily chewed their food.

The Brutes slept alone, their stout thick legs looking more like tree trunks then flesh, four arms clasped over their bony torsos. Reapers were curled into balls, their long scythe like arms held tightly to the sides of their sinuous bodies. Crushers slept in pairs, their oversized arms and hands looking ludicrously large compared to the rest of their scaly body. Renders slept on their bellies, their large tusked jaws were large enough to snap a man in two.

His ghosts didn't see any of the larger demons, for which Keir was very grateful. But as he looked closer at the ghosts memories, he saw there were several dozen bat-like Screechers, they covered the trees like a furry coat. They didn't look like much, but a close look at the child sized flying creatures showed how sharp their claws were.

There wasn't time to count all the demons, and he knew that he hadn't seen the entire army. He estimated that there were five or six thousand near the pass, with who knew how many a little further away.

They would roll over the fortifications by noon, and hit the barely manned gates of the keep soon after. “They're going to need a miracle to survive,” Keir said.

Watching the sunrise, he began to grin. “Lucky for them, I'm a miracle.”

___

The Necromancer Unmanned will be updated every Sunday night. My other story The Oubliette, will be updated every second Friday, and Doom Valley Prep School will be updated every Monday.

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, look at background info, see snippets of potential stories, and have a chance to choose what I write next, you can support me on my Patreon page.

Von stepped into the room just as the sun was peeking out from the horizon. “Good morning, I hope you slept well.”

“I would have slept better if I'd been able to talk to someone about the battle plan for today,” Keir replied, not bothering to look up from his small bowl of porridge. He was dressed in the same shadowy clothes he had made the previous day. When his maids had offered to help him dress in a proper ladies gown, he had refused. Having never worn one before, even the split skirt for horseback riding, would have been awkward. He would consider wearing a dress later for a special event, but for battle, regular pants and a shirt were far more practical.

“I'm sorry. General Ajani was unable to leave the pass, and High Commander Alder, insisted I discuss certain issues with him well into the night,” the mage explained.

“Would I be correct in assuming those issues involved me?”

There was a short pause. “You are. Choosing to resurrect you was a controversial decision.”

His opinion of the mage went up slightly, he disliked people who refused to admit the blindingly obvious. “Well if things go poorly today, High Commander Alder will only have a few hours to be upset,” he said cheerfully.

“I trust you won't mind, if I hope he stays upset for a very long time.”

Keir smiled a little, it would be a shame when he finally broke the geas and killed the mage. Getting to his feet, he asked, “Are we ready to go to the front lines?”

“The horses are saddled and waiting for us. Alder would like to speak with you first,” Von said. He cocked his head and gave a half smile, “Something about a large crowd of refugees surrounding the inner gate praying that their ruler has appeared and will destroy the demons.”

His Lleial maids stared defiantly at the mage, even as they put a warm cloak over his shoulders. “I don't know anything about that,” Keir said. “I merely talked with my maids last night trying to better understand the situation. I may have said some things about how I am going to slaughter the demons, but it was only in passing.”

“Thank you for clearing that up, I'm certain that will put the High Commander at ease. Now about the several hundred zombies and skeletons you raised yesterday. Why are they lined up in ranks, armed with rocks, and waiting at the inner gates, being covered in garlands by the Lleial?” Von asked.

A giggle escaped before Keir could stop it. The High Commander must be having a wonderful morning seeing the zombies and religious mob at his gate. “Looking over the army and the demons this morning, I realized that having reinforcements could help turn the tide of battle. The dead are done their tasks, they'll be more useful slowing the demons down so they can be shot.”

“I'll inform the guards about your plan, and talk with Commander Alder by myself. I think that it would be best if you stay off to the side. Let's go, General Ajani is waiting for us at the pass,” Von said, turning to leave the room.

Keir waited a moment while the ties of his cloak were done up. He didn't particularly like the cloak, it was an emerald green with white fur around the edges. It was warm, which would be nice in the cool morning air, since shadow cloth wasn't known for retaining heat, but it was not something commonly worn into battle. Unfortunately it was the only one that would fit his small frame.

He had to run a little to catch up to Von, and even then, he was practically jogging trying to match the tall mans stride. Once again he cursed being short. Hanina, as always, floated effortlessly behind them. The ghostly maid wasn't using any of Keir's energy, so there was no reason to end her. And while she hadn't been made to fight, if the worst happened, another ghost in the fight could prove useful.

Reaching the gate, High Commander Alder was waiting for them, along with most of the soldiers in the fort. Without a word, Von went to the old man and began talking quietly. Seeing that he was clearly unwanted, Keir walked over to a groom that was holding the reins of two old horses.

“Which one's mine?” he asked the young groom, who was pale and shaking.

“Th-this one,” the boy said, pointing at the smaller horse that was only a little larger than a pony.

Sighing at the disrespect, he went to the horse, which looked huge from his new perspective. A quick check of the saddle and horse showed everything was in order, now the only problem was getting on it. There was no mounting block, and getting on the horse was going to be a humiliating experience without it.

Looking at the groom, he saw the boy was desperately looking at everything except him. Sighing, he motioned to Hanina, who bent down and cupped her hands together. With the ghosts help, he managed to get on the horse without too much difficulty.

He waited patiently, patting the horse, getting used to the saddle and letting the horse get used to him, while Von and the High Commander talked. Finally after several minutes, the mage finished and got on his own horse.

The gate opened and they made their way out of the fort.

**

It took an hour to reach the pass.

They were quickly ushered through the ramshackle camp into a ragged command tent where three men, each one in a different style and colour of uniform, were talking. All three of them looked exhausted, but they were clean shaven and their uniforms, while stained and patched were relatively clean, unlike everyone else they had seen in the camp.

“General Ajani, Colonel Moreno, Major Magomedov, this is Mage Keir,” Von said.

“Good morning everyone,” he said, before looking up at the general who was the darkest man he had ever seen, and extremely tall. In his old body the general would have been almost a head taller than him, now, Keir barely reached his chest. “General Ajani, I haven't had the pleasure of fighting alongside someone from Alkebulan before. But having fought against several expeditionary forces from the continent, I am an admirer of your fighting skills.”

The generals lips twitched upwards slightly before returning to a grim frown. “You're going to be disappointed. My family has lived in Khabir for three hundred years, since the War of the Dead.”

“Part of the expeditionary forces who decided to stay after the fighting, I presume?”

The general nodded.

“Well I'm still happy to have you,” Keir said. “You've managed to keep these people alive and your army intact. From what I've heard and seen, that is damn close to a miracle. Now there are at least five or six thousand demons less then two miles from the lines, scattered throughout the forest. What's the plan?”

“How do you know that?” Major Magomedov asked, his pale northern complexion becoming even paler.

“I had ghosts scout the area and look over the army last night. Since I wasn't able to speak with anyone, I decided to do see what I had to work with and what I'd be facing.”

Colonel Moreno pointed to a map on the table. “We want to use your zombies to help shore up the defences and act as a reserve, plugging any holes the Demons create in the lines. We don't know exactly how your magic can help, so keeping it simple is the best plan.”

Keir looked up at Von, before speaking. “If I'd been resurrected sooner, we could have had time to discuss things properly.”

The mage didn't respond, but Keir smirked as a flash of discomfort flitted across the mans face.

General Ajino ignored the comment. “What do you think of the plan? Can you do it?”

“I can,” he said, “but if I do it, we'll all be dead by noon.”

Colonel Moreno and Major Magomedov both glared at him, as if he had just insulted their wives and deflowered their daughters. The general merely raised an eyebrow and motioned for him to keep speaking.

“Your army has nothing left and is about to break. They might hold until the Demons reach the lines, but five seconds after that they'll run. Mixing my dead with them before they learn to trust them, will make them break even sooner.”

“So this is hopeless?” Magomedov asked.

“Not at all. If it was hopeless I'd have slit my throat already, that would be a more pleasant death than getting ripped apart by Demons. I have a plan that should work, and will keep most of our soldiers alive. All I'll need is a calm horse, Von, and if possible another mage,” he said.

“You came back to life yesterday, and now you think you can defeat the Demons using tactics from three hundred years ago?” Colonel Moreno said, his lips curled into a sneer.

Keir smiled, silently wishing he was more physically imposing. “Yes.”

“This is ridiculous. We should immediately march for the keep. We can defend the gate for weeks from there.”

“Who here has created an Empire that spanned a continent, then spent two decades fighting the world to a standstill?” Keir asked, raising his hand. “Now, who has fought a losing war for a decade, and became so desperate they summoned a so-called monster that they use to scare their children into behaving.”

“You seem to have forgotten, you lost and your empire shattered,” the Colonel said.

“Only after I was assassinated. Before that even while dealing with a civil war and various rebellions, my Undying Army was still fighting the Coalition to a standstill.” Turning away from the Colonel, Keir focused on the silent general. “So General Ajino, will you listen to my plan, or should I slit my throat right now and save us all some time.”

“Let's hear it,” the general said.

**

Von

Keir silently meditated while a mage was summoned and horses were prepared for her plan. Watching the young woman sit calmly by a fire, eyes closed, back straight, barely breathing, Von wondered what he had unleashed on the world.

Twisting his vision to see the flows of magic, he was nearly blinded by the energy coursing through the necromancer. His own impressive magical capacity looked like a feeble candle, when compared to Keir's blazing inferno. The necromancers mere presence warped the magical energy surrounding them. In his life, he had only seen one person who could possibly match Keir's power, The Red Mistress, First Among Equals, Speaker for the Eldritch Council.

He dearly hoped that when the two met, it would be a peaceful meeting.

As he waited, trying to keep his own thoughts calm, he heard someone speaking near the cavalry encampment. Curious, he went to the edge of the field, where most of the soldiers were on their knees, heads bowed. A girl wearing a maids outfit was sitting on a horse, alongside a Llieal priest. He had learned their language over the last several years, ever since he began planning on resurrecting the necromancer. When the tattered remnants of the Llieal had arrived, harried by demons, he had made sure they were welcomed.

“The Regua has returned!” the maid said, her voice magically amplified. “In the camp, she raised an army of the dead commanding them to help us. They worked through the night digging wells and latrines. Now they are marching here to help us in our fight.

“Last night, when I was serving her, I-I showed weakness. I demanded to know why she hadn't come sooner, why she had allowed so many of us to die. The Regua said there were things we couldn't understand, and rules she couldn't break. Then she swore to me, with a Spirit of Sephtis watching, that she would slay a thousand demons for every Llieal they have slain, and she would rid the world of the demons.”

He was impressed. The girl wasn't much of a speaker, but the tears on her cheeks, the faith and fervour she spoke with, more than made up for her lack of skill. The Llieal who were watching, didn't shout or cheer, it wouldn't be proper until the end. They did lean forward trying to hear more, silently begging that the girl was telling the truth. A few started to shake as if they were crying.

The priest raised his etched sabre. If Von remembered correctly, the weapon was over three hundred years old, from the time of The Undying Army. The old weapons had become a symbol of command, and were still capable of killing.

“I have seen The Regua in camp,” the priest said. “He has returned to us in a new body, a young tattooed woman, attended by a holy ghost. She has spoken to the general and is preparing to face the demons. I have not had the honour of speaking to The Regua yet, there is too much to be done and she will speak to us in her time. But I have consulted the spirits and they say that this is The Regua returned to life.

“Hope has returned. It is time for the Demons to learn fear!” the holy man shouted, waving his sabre.

The Llieal lifted their heads and raised their weapons high, roaring with rage.

***
Keir

The air reeked of death. General Anjino had said there'd been two battles and countless skirmishes at the pass. From the torn up ground, and the smell of rot, they must have been vicious, hard fought affairs. It was perfect for what he intended.

Keir shifted in his cavalry saddle, it was just as uncomfortable as he remembered. The straps around his legs would keep him from falling out of the saddle, the saddle itself had ears coming from back which cupped his hips, providing even more stability. Normally he wouldn't need the extra help, he'd been riding horses for decades, but usually he was well behind the front line surrounded by over a hundred guards. At least his horse seemed to be well trained. He didn't know the bay's breed, it was long legged with a light build, and quickly obeyed his commands.

Hanina was with him, her arms wrapped around his waist. She had become invisible, prepared to act as a very last line of defence if demons managed to get close enough to threaten him. Despite his comments about slitting his throat, he would rather not die, he had too much to do and this was his best chance of regaining at least some of his status and power.

Von was at his side, riding a large black cavalry horse. The mage didn't look calm or mildly amused like he usually did. This time his hands were gripping the reins so tightly, he was lightly shaking. Still, he was keeping the fear from his face as he looked grimly towards the woods, where the Demons were making their presence known, howling and shrieking, pacing the edge of the trees, steadily growing in numbers.

Looking at his second companion, Keir wondered how the brown mage would hold up. The young woman kept looking back at the human lines over five hundred yards behind them, and her horse was fidgeting and fussing under her.

“Calm down Emer,” he said, smiling confidently at the red head. “All you have to do is keep the shield up, Von will be helping you. If the Demons get too close, we'll move back.”

The mage nodded. “Don't worry, Mage Keira, I'll do my part,” she said, sitting a bit straighter in the saddle.

Keir wondered what it must be like, obeying someone who looked like a young girl that was just on the cusp of adulthood. In his previous life, he had been in his twenties when he'd created the Necromantic College, and just thirty when he'd conquered the kingdom of Anwen. While he'd been seen as a young upstart, especially at first, he'd at least been an adult.

Turning back to the woods, he focused on the Demons who would attack soon. According to everyone he had talked to, when they were facing an opponent who couldn't or wouldn't run, the monsters enjoyed stretching out the moment, letting the fear ramp up. They were howling and barking, lunging forward before returning to the trees, some were throwing rocks and sticks, roaring a challenge. It was time to be begin.

“Von,” he said.

The mage knew what he had to do. Casting a spell, dozens of illusions appeared along the trenches and behind the lines. They were all showing Keir in real time, facing the soldiers. His sudden appearance made some of them jump, here and there a shot rang out. He slowly counted to ten, giving them time to calm down and focus on him. Then he began to speak.

"Soldiers,” he said, hearing his amplified voice echoing from the walls of the pass. “I am the former Emperor Keir, Grand General of The Undying Army, the most powerful necromancer to have ever lived."

He definitely had their attention now.

"I understand you've heard many promises over the years. Fight for me, and we'll push back the demons. Stand firm beside me and we will be victorious. Follow me and we will destroy the demons once and for all. So many promises and all of them have failed.

“I could do the same. I could promise you victory if you fight for me. But you don't know me. For all you know I'm some camp whore, dressed in fancy clothes and put on a horse, claiming to be the great necromancer.”

Even from so far away he saw the mass of soldiers shift uncomfortably. This wasn't the speech they were expecting. He kept going, there was no way he could stop.

“So you will hear no promises from me. Instead I'll ask you to promise me something. Look ahead of you, you see those three riders between you and the demons. Those insane people are myself and my two companions.” He raised his arms, knowing the illusions would copy him. The ghostly scouts he had created the night before suddenly filled the air, forming a shrieking barrier between the demons and the humans.

“I'm going to destroy half of the demon army this morning. Once I've done that, all I ask is that you to help me destroy the other half by supper," he said, giving them a bloodthirsty grin as the illusion vanished.

Raising his arms, he began collecting the death energy. There were no theatrics this time. Every bit of power flowed into the ground, weaving bones and flesh together. The demons quieted down, stepping out of the forest, unsure of what was going on.

The soil began to heave and roil like a stormy sea.

Hundreds of human zombies and skeletons tore themselves from the earth, many of them were armed with swords, knives and broken guns. These weren't the basic workers he had made the day before, these were made for war. Their movements were more fluid, the magic binding them together was stronger, they roared with rage.

Despite all of that, Keir knew they wouldn't be enough. He pushed his magic further, sweat beaded up on his brow.

Rotting demons rose to their feet, maggots and worms writhed and churned in the dead flesh, marking out the bullet holes, shrapnel and jagged cuts that had killed them. They hissed and screeched at their former kin.

The living demons reared back in confusion. Recoiling at the smell of death and the sight of their own dead challenging them. As the broken land burst, releasing the rotten carcasses that hid beneath the mud, the demons fell back.

He needed more. His clothes were soaked from sweat, his eyes turned black, blood trickled like tears down his cheeks, as magic coursed through his body.

Shattered bits of skeleton, torn flesh, and even pieces of dead wood were molded together. Monstrous flesh golems, mockeries of the human form, with jagged bone, broken blades, and snapped fangs forming claws and spikes at the ends of their arms. Silently they formed a ragged line amongst the thousands of smaller dead.

Now he had an army worthy of the name. Slumping down in the saddle, utterly exhausted, he felt Hanina's arms wrap around his chest, her hands cupping his chin to keep him upright. Image was everything, even as tired as he was he couldn't let the soldiers see him fall or look weak.

He spoke in a whisper, giving his dead soldiers a single order, "Kill the demons."

For the first time in three hundred years, the dead marched to war, their shrieks filling the air.

___

The Necromancer Unmanned will be updated every Sunday night. My other story The Oubliette, will be updated every second Friday, and Doom Valley Prep School will be updated every Monday.

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, look at background info, see snippets of potential stories, and have a chance to choose what I write next, you can support me on my Patreon page.

The Imp ran at the strange human, it's mind filled with blood lust and glee at the impending kill. The human was sick and injured, barely able to hold its blade. Its claws would gut the prey, then it could find the unarmed humans, the weak and young. It would play with them for hours, listening to them scream, tasting their flesh, feeling their life leave their bodies.

It's claws slashed deeply into the humans stomach, slicing through intestines, destroying organs. It allowed itself a second to laugh at the easy kill, it's eyes already searching for new prey.

The dead mans hand clamped down on its arm.

Startled it tried to jerk away, stabbing the human through the shoulder.

The human didn't even flinch at the blow. With surprising speed the human slammed its blade into the Imps chest. It screamed as the blade was pulled out.

Slumping to the ground, it's arm still held in the vice like grip, the Imp felt energy surge through its body. It smiled. It was dying, but it would have vengeance before it died. Ripping its arm free, tearing muscle and skin as it did, the Imp lunged for the humans throat, biting deep into the neck.

Rot filled its mouth.

The blade plunged into its back, again, and again, and again.

Falling to the ground, it watched the human calmly walk into the growing melee, it's bloody blade ready to kill.

**

A skeleton was flung into the ground, its bones cracking from the inhuman force. Getting to its feet, it vaguely realized it had lost its gun. For a moment it was unsure what to do.

-KILL THE DEMONS-

The weapon wasn't needed.

Looking at the four armed demon that was crushing and throwing the dead who got to close, the skeleton knew what to do. When the massive creature turned, bellowing in anger at the enemies that surrounded it. The skeleton ran forwards, jumping onto its back, digging it's bony fingers deep into a cut to hold itself in place.

It grabbing a bayonet that was stuck in the demons back, yanking it free. The demon spun around, nearly throwing it off again. It drove the bayonet into the leathery back, the rusty blade scraping along the spine.

The demon jerked in pain, howling in rage. For a brief moment it stopped moving.

The dead, seeing an opening swarmed. zombies and skeletons alike clambered onto the demon, biting, stabbing, and clubbing the Brute, as it tried to tear them away.

The skeleton climbed up the demons back, using the other dead that clung to the monster like ants, as foot and hand holds. Wrapping its arm around the thick neck, it drove the bayonet into the demons mouth.

Teeth turned its forearm into powder, but the blade had already hit its brain.

Slowly the demon lost its strength, swaying and stumbling, it's blows becoming weaker. Finally it fell to the ground, crushing some of the dead under its great weight.

The skeleton realized its arm was stuck under the demons head. That was fine, it was badly damaged already. It tore its arm off at the shoulder. With its remaining arm it grabbed a broken sword from a zombie that was trapped and unable to free itself. Suitably armed it searched for another demon to kill.

**

The ghost flew over the battlefield alongside dozens of its companions, watching the growing chaos. It flew low enough to almost touch the taller demons and flesh golems, studying how the demons fought and moved. It didn't know why it did this, there was simply a vague knowledge that it should do this until something else happened.

Another ghost shrieked.

Looking around it saw a flock of Screechers coming from the forest. Its pale face began to grin, it could obey its new orders. Shrieking it flew towards the demons, other ghosts joined it. They instinctively used the magical energy that formed their bodies, turning ethereal hands into talons, hardening their mist like forms into something that could kill.

The demons scattered for a moment, not expecting to be challenged in the sky. They quickly reformed, and flew at the ghosts screeching their own battle cry.

They collided in the air. The ghosts slashed and tore at the demons, cutting their wings, sending them falling to the ground where they were trampled in the melee. The demons tried to do the same, only to cry in confusion as their own claws and teeth passed through the ghosts.

Spinning around, the ghosts flew back through the flock of demons. Blood fell like rain as they tore the Screechers apart. Some of the demons tried to flee, they didn't make it very far.

The ghost fell silent once more, its body became softer, its talons turned back into fingers. It was hazier now, harder to see. It flew more slowly around the battlefield, watching the demons fight the dead. When it heard another shriek, it was slower to respond, and its magical energy was harder to control as it once more headed into the fight.

**

The Reaper moved through the battle, it's long, sinuous body twisting and turning to avoid the knives and clubs. Sometimes it was hit, steel and claw scraped against its hard scales, a few bit into flesh. Arms that ended in long bony blades cut through the dead, bathing it in rotten blood and half-liquefied organs. It left a trail of broken zombies and skeletons in its wake, limbless, headless, missing most of their body. It didn't care if they still moved, they were easily destroyed by its kin.

It saw an enormous handed Crusher smashed into the ground, its head pierced by a rusty sword. A mismatched leg of flesh, wood and bone crushed the demons chest as the blade was withdrawn. Silently, the flesh golem swung its arms into the horde of demons that were desperately trying to bring it down. Bone spikes impaled flesh, the blade cut them down like wheat.

Digging its claws into the ground, the Reaper launched itself at the golem. It landed on the monstrosity, wrapping its long tail around the things leg, driving its clawed toes into its stomach. Its scythe like limbs hacked through the neck of the dead thing. It screeched in victory as the lump of flesh flew off.

The flesh golem refused to fall.

A blade struck the Reapers back, slicing through its spine. Looking down, the demon saw the bloody sword sticking out of its body, pinning it to the monstrosity. Shrieking, it hacked at the things shoulder, trying to free itself.

The spiked club like limb of the golem slammed into its head, blinding its eye.

Swinging its bone scythes as hard as it could into the golems shoulder, the raggedly cut arm fell from the body. The Reaper tumbled away from the golem, landing on its back, its lower body paralyzed and useless. The last thing it saw from its remaining eye was a foot coming down to crush its skill.

**

Tearing off the rotten head of a Brute that refused to die, the Render howled in mourning at having to fight its kin. It's massive jaw was bleeding from the dozens of cuts it had suffered from what should have been its allies.

A Gnasher, clearly dead from the crater in its oversized head, threw itself at the demon. The Render spun away before the dead thing could cripple it with a bite that would tear through metal. It crushed the Gnasher with a quick bite, before the little thing could regain its feet.

Looking around the demon saw many of its living kin being dragged down by the dead. Even missing half their body, the monstrosities continued to fight, grabbing the legs of demons, biting, clawing and stabbing anything that came within reach.

The Render howled again. Not in mourning, but in rage. It's howl was picked up by the other demons, growing louder, overpowering the roars and shrieks of the dead.

From miles around, the demons who had remained in the forest answered the call. Their own howls spread the call. More demons, from further away responded.

In minutes thousands of howling demons were streaming through the forest heading for the battle. A true threat had risen to face them. It would be destroyed.

**

Von watched the battle, if the wild, vicious melee could be called a battle. There was no strategy to it, no tactics, just two groups of monsters clawing and biting each other until one of them was dead.

They had been fighting for over an hour, bodies and limbs were piled up in mounds. Demons were dying in the hundreds, a steady trickle of reinforcements came from the forest. The undead kept fighting until they were torn limb from limb. They were being whittled down, but it was slow and they made the demons pay in blood.

Sparing a glance at Keir, he was surprised the necromancer was asleep. He realized how drained the necromancer had to be after raising an army, yet they were less than a hundred yards away from a howling nightmare. 

A pack of dark hounds managed to make it through the fighting. The six, long legged monsters saw them and charged, barking and snapping. Taking some of his energy from the shield, Von moved his hands, shaping a small amount of magical energy, placing it directly in the hounds path.

The demons shrieked, tumbling to a stop, their eyes melted and their lungs burnt from super heated air.

Seeing that they weren't a threat, he snapped his fingers, ending the spell.

'Von. Are you free?' a voice asked inside his mind.

Sighing, he opened his mind to the voice. 'I'm watching a battle, Alvis. I can talk for now, but may be called away soon.'

'I'm glad you're still alive. We were starting to get worried when you didn't respond for the last week. How is the battle going?' Alvis asked.

'We're winning.'

There was a long pause. 'From what you told us last week, your defenses couldn't last more than one more attack, if that.'

'We have reinforcements. The demons don't know how to deal with them.'

'You resurrected the bastard.' It wasn't a question.

'Yesterday. Keir wasn't happy about the geas. It works by the way. But he's agreed to work with us. His army of the dead is... horrifying.' He wished the mental link allowed emotions to be sent. Talking in an emotionless monotone left a lot to be desired.

'You were forbidden to resurrect him. You'll be lucky if the Eldritch Council merely censures you.'

'I had a choice. Resurrect him and have a chance of saving almost ten thousand people, including myself, or die. There was nowhere else for us to go, and no one could help us.'

'You took it upon yourself to fight monsters with a monster. What happens when he inevitably turns on us?'

'We have the geas, and he was killed before, if need be we can kill him again. At least he's human.'

'That isn't exactly comforting. People were already claiming you've spent too much time around the Llieal, this is going to make your many detractors even angrier. The Council will probably strip you of your membership and make you an outcast.'

Von didn't respond, there wasn't anything he could say. He knew he was breaking the law when he went through with his plan. His only regret was waiting so long to do it.

'How powerful is the bastard?'

'He raised an army of thousands over an hour ago. There was some blow back, but now he's sleeping peacefully in the saddle.'

Alvis cursed. 'No wonder he was able to fight the world. You think he can fight an actual Demon horde, not just the cast offs you're dealing with?'

The demons began howling. The noise pierced his ears, making his head ring. The demons finally realized they couldn't win, not with the numbers they had nearby. Reinforcements were coming.

“What is that gods damned noise?” Keir asked, rubbing her eyes.

“Our signal to head back,” Von said. “The artillery will be starting soon, and we don't want to be caught in that.”

Motioning to Emer, he led them back towards the human lines.

In his mind, Alvis asked, 'Are you still there?'

'Yes, but not for long. We're about to face a real horde. If we live, I'll message you tonight.'

'May Father Moon protect you, and Mother Sun guide you, my friend.'

Von was about to respond when the artillery opened fire.

__

The Necromancer Unmanned will be updated every Sunday night. My other story The Oubliette, will be updated every second Friday, and Doom Valley Prep School will be updated every Monday.

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, look at background info, see snippets of potential stories, and have a chance to choose what I write next, you can support me on my Patreon page.

Keir leaned against the invisible body of Hanina, letting her hold his leaden body in place. His limbs were numb and nearly useless, the reins barely stayed in his hands. Without the leg straps and his servant, he wouldn't have been able to stay on the horse. That would have been embarrassing.

Closing his eyes, he realized his magical energy was still very low. Thanks to the sheer amount of death surrounding them, he was regaining it fairly quickly, it still wasn't much. Creating a single ghost like Hanina would make him collapse again.

Taking a tiny portion of the raw magic, he pushed it into his muscles.

His heart raced painfully fast. Muscles twisted from the energy racing through them. His vision turned red and he felt his skin heat up. Tasting iron, he spit a bright red mix of mucus and blood into the mud. The pain slowly faded away, leaving him feeling and looking refreshed. He hoped he wouldn't have to do that again anytime soon.

Looking back, he couldn't see much. The dead still held the line, refusing to die. Demons were fighting them with tooth and claw. Limbs and blood flew through the air. Behind the melee, explosions blanketed the trees and field in smoke, dirt and body parts. Some of the shells exploded in the air, shredding flocks of Screechers, raining metal on the reinforcements.

The Brown mage, looked back as well. “They're hitting the dead,” Emer said.

“Only with the shells that fall short. And they're dead,” he told her, shouting to be heard over the explosions. “Friendly fire on the dead is fine as long as it kills the enemy as well.”

“Right. I- it's not something I've really thought of.”

Smiling, he said, “Most people don't. It almost always caught my enemies off guard the first time they saw me order soldiers or cannon to fire onto my own units. Some of my stupider enemies were still surprised after the fifth time.”

“But aren't you worried that we're losing soldiers?” she asked.

“Better to lose some dead soldiers while killing the enemy, than to lose living soldiers because we didn't kill enough of the enemy. The dead can be replaced easily enough, a good living soldier is worth their weight in gold,” he explained.

They were close to the first line of trenches, the ground was covered in dead bodies, lying face up, staring glassy eyed at the sky. Keir grinned, the dead had made good time getting down to the pass, and General Ajani had been as good as his word directing them into position. It was always a pleasure to work with professionals.

Weaving their way through the bodies, and then around the trenches which covered the pass in a checker board pattern, they stopped at an open space behind the last row of trenches, well away from the booming artillery. Von easily hopped off his horse, and came over to help unstrap Keir.

“You seem well rested,” the mage said.

“Magic. Can't look weak in front of the troops,” Keir explained. “Is it time for lunch?”

Von glared at him. “That can kill you. You're already suffering from blow back.”

“Blow black?” Keir asked, not sure of the word and too mentally exhausted to work it out.

“Using too much power, I think you would call it enervated.”

He nodded in understanding. “I prefer enervated, it sounds better. Don't worry about me, I'll survive. This isn't the first time I've done it.”

“You still need to be careful, you're too important to lose over something as stupid as your image,” Von said.

Keir smirked. “I didn't know you cared. I'll make sure your weapon stays in good shape. But until the soldiers trust me with their lives, image is everything. Now, is it lunchtime? I'm starving.”

“It's a little early, but close enough. There should be something prepared.”

“Excellent! Then I think it's time to talk to the troops. If you would be so kind as to work your magic.”

Von moved his fingers delicately through the air, then nodded.

Smiling happily, Keir took a moment to adjust his cloak. “Soldiers, it's almost lunchtime. I wasn't keeping count, but I think we can all agree I've killed a good number of the demons. And my compliments to the artillery who are doing a wonderful job of aiding my dead in slaughtering the monsters. If things go well, most of the enemy will be dead before they get within rifle range.”

There was a bit of cheering from the trenches.

“Now I'm going to have some lunch. When the Demons get close enough to be annoying, I'll join you in the trenches. I want every single one of those bastards dead by suppertime, and with your help it should be easy enough. So rest up while you can, we'll be celebrating tonight.”

“You seem confident,” Von said, after stopping the spell.

“I am. But even if I wasn't, I'd do my damnedest to fake it. Those men and women expected to be dead by now. They've gotten a reprieve of execution. They're feeling a bit more confident and won't break from a light breeze, but it's still fragile. If I looked scared, tired or even worried, it could cause them to lose hope again. There is no way I'll risk that,” he explained.

The mage nodded. “We're still in for a hard fight. They're summoning help. Every demon within fifty miles is heading for us now.”

“Well then, lets get something to eat and have someone set up a cot for me. I'll need to be well rested when the guests finally arrive.”

“Remember warriors of the Moon, when fighting for survival every weapon is allowed,” the Priestess said, her voice sounding all along the trenches.

“Father Moon travelled into the Abyss to learn the ways of the Great Enemy, tearing the knowledge of runes from the heart of the Dragon Serobini. Now runes are one of our greatest tools. And those who were once our enemy can become our friends and allies. Mother Sun showed mercy to the greatest warrior of the Abyss, Karinlik Yildiz, healing his wounds and soothing his pain. In gratitude the warrior became the Polar Star, guarding one of the gates of the Abyss, keeping its former kin locked away from the world.”

Von had to smile at the sermon. He wondered how long it had taken her and her fellow priests to come up with a convincing reason to trust Keir and necromancy. Three hundred years of stories about how evil the necromancer had been, and the heresy of necromancy wasn't easily overcome. At least Keir had made the job easier by being charismatic and helpful. The former emperor was cocky, arrogant and didn't hid the fact that she felt superior to everyone, but she knew how to motivate the masses.

Having the undead fighting a horde of demons to a standstill didn't hurt either.

Turning to no mans land he saw the thin line of undead shuffling around, occasionally bending down to slay a wounded demon or to pick up a weapon. A few ghosts, flickering wisps of magic that threatened to fade at any second, flew through the sky. The artillery had mostly stopped, allowing shells to be brought up, repairs to be made, and the crews to rest. They still lobbed some shells into the woods, shattering trees and killing the growing number of demons. If they had more artillery and shells, they would have flattened the woods, but everything was in short supply.

The demons were watching from the woods, just out of sight. The howling hadn't stopped. More and more demons were arriving every minute. They'd realized early on that coming in piecemeal was just getting them all killed. So now they were waiting to gain reinforcements. When they had enough numbers, they would charge, swamping the undead, soaking up the shells and bullets, and fall on the defenders like a tidal wave.

Unsheathing his sword, he stared at the runes etched into the metal. It would never dull or break, it would strengthen his blows ten fold, and allow him to block a blow from a four armed Brute. It had been his from the start of the war, when he'd taken it from a dead officer in the mad flight that ended the first campaign. He'd lost count of how many demons and humans it had killed.

It would kill many more before the day was out. No matter how confident Keir was, he hadn't seen a demon horde before.

Officer whistles pierced the air.

The howls of the demons had changed, becoming more piercing, almost a shriek. The flying screechers rose from the trees, so dark they looked like storm clouds. Trees shook as the larger demons advanced.

The artillery opened up again, shaking the ground.

Thousands of demons charged out of the forest, thousands more followed them, a veritable flood that couldn't be stopped. As explosions tore hundreds of them apart, more came. The undead charged the tsunami of death. Fighting as a group, they formed little pockets in the flood, slowing the demons for a few moments.

The artillery used the time well, sending shells into the masses. As the skeletons, zombies and flesh golems were pulled down and dismembered, shells fell all around them. For every undead killed dozens of demons died.

It wasn't enough.

The few ghosts that remained flew into the clouds of Screechers. The magic that powered them faded away almost instantly as they tore at the seemingly endless enemy. The sky once more belonged to the demons. 

The thin line of undead vanished under the horde.

Soldiers opened fire, firing as fast as they could pull the trigger and work their bolts. There was no need to aim, every bullet hit a demon. A few precious machine guns started firing, their rapid fire mowing down the demons who led the charge.

It wasn't enough.

The demons ran over their wounded and dead, stomping them into the mud. Ignoring their own injuries as long as they could run. Soaking up bullets, so their kin coming behind them would survive.

Jogging to the first line of trenches, Von prepared his magic.

“Regua! The demons are coming!”

Keir groaned, already rolling out of his cot. He stumbled, thinking his legs should be longer and landed painfully on the ground. Cursing, he got to his feet, wiping the sleep from his eyes. A young woman, about as old as his new body, dressed in leather, with several pistols and a sword strapped to her body was standing by the tent flap, holding a second sword at her side. He didn't know who she was, but it was easy to guess she was one of the Lleial.

“How long do we have before they arrive?” he asked, throwing on a pair of boots.

“Minutes at most, Regua,” the young woman said, ducking her head so he could only see her short sandy blonde hair.

“I'd better get ready to meet them,” he said, walking past her.

“Regua, you don't have a weapon. We'd be honoured if you use this sword,” she said, holding up a cavalry sabre. “It was used by Major Calen of the 6th Cuirassiers, three hundred years ago. It's the greatest sword we have left.”

Taking the blade, he looked it over carefully. The runes on the hilt confirmed it was a cavalry officers sword from the Undying Army. It had been wonderfully cared for over the centuries. “Thank you, I am honoured to have it. What's your name?”

“Lieutenant Floria, of the 3rd Hussars,” she said, coming to attention and revealing a badly scarred face. It looked like a bear had slashed her from her right ear to her nose, barely missing the eye.

He patted her shoulder. “Pass on my thanks to your people, Lieutenant Floria, I will use it well.”

Artillery boomed, hurting his ears. “Get back to your position, I can find the trenches on my own,” he said.

She saluted, then turned on her heels and ran to wherever she was supposed to go. Keir did much the same, but jogged instead. Jogging simply meant he had somewhere to go in a hurry. Moving at a run would mean he was worried or worse yet, panicked. That was the last thing he wanted the soldiers to think.

Reaching the trenches, he ducked down and jumped into the narrow side trenches that allowed him to move to the front lines without getting in the line of fire. Reaching his position, Keir took a moment to catch his breath, he didn't have nearly as much endurance as he had in his old body.

Looking around the trench, he was amazed at the rifles and artillery. In his time the guns had been slow to load, needing a ball and powder. Even the fastest guns, with special runes to speed up the process, took almost half a minute. These rifles had magazines of five bullets that could be taken out and replaced in a matter of seconds, and fired almost instantly.

The artillery was firing almost as quickly, making shells fall like rain. Combined with the machine guns, the demons were falling like wheat before the scythe. If he'd had these weapons he could have conquered the world in a few years.

Despite the slaughter, the demons kept coming, soaking up the casualties as they got closer. Children ran down the trench, handing out magazines and gathering the empty ones. Other children took the empty magazines and refilled them, placing them into bags to be handed out by the runners.

Explosions erupted overhead, Screechers fell from the sky, as tiny rockets burst apart, hundreds more flew through the barrage.

Raising his hand, Keir crafted magic into thin strands of darkness, sending them upwards like a spiderweb. When the demons flew through the strands, flesh died. The strands were hair thin, but they cut through flesh, killing nerves and tissue. The lucky ones died almost instantly as their brains shut off. The unlucky, lost control of parts of their body, falling to the ground where they were clubbed and stabbed, unable to defend themselves. The strands would fade soon, each death took away some of its energy, but it would give the flying demons pause.

All along the front, other mages used their own spells. Super heating the air, sending invisible spikes through the flocks, creating walls of wind that smashed them to the ground, and other deadly spells.

It wasn't enough, the Screechers were getting through. One of the machine guns stopped firing. Soldiers further back started firing at the sky, rather than the horde charging them.

“This is going to hurt,” Keir said to himself.

Pulling the ambient magic into him, he created more strands. They snaked across the sky, forming a net over top of the trenches.

His heart raced erratically, muscles burned, his legs collapsed under him, sweat erupted from his too hot skin. Vaguely he heard people cheering. All around them the flying monsters crashed to the earth. The machine gun began firing again.

Hanina once more wrapped her arms around him, trying to pick him up.

“Let me sit,” he murmered. He only needed a few moments to sit, he'd regain some energy and be fine. Red spots filled his eyes. Leaning against the trench wall, he opened himself up to the ambient magic, absorbing as much as he could. He would need it soon.

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The Necromancer Unmanned will be updated every Sunday night. My other story The Oubliette, will be updated every second Friday, and Doom Valley Prep School will be updated every Monday.

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, look at background info, see snippets of potential stories, and have a chance to choose what I write next, you can support me on my Patreon page.

Von

“How much power does she have?” Von asked, looking at the dark lines covering the sky.

The Screechers flew over head, greatly reduced in number after most of them had tried to swarm the artillery and machine guns only to die as they touched the strands of necromantic magic. Rockets and scatter guns were quickly killing the rest.

Turning his attention back to the oncoming demons, the fastest ones were almost at the trenches. The tiny humanoid imps, the long legged dark hounds, and the large mouth gnashers were howling with glee even as they were shot down by the hundreds. Once they got into the trench, they would have all the advantages and it would be a bloody fight to push them back.

Less than a hundred yards from the first trench, the demons came to a crashing stop. Hundreds of bodies who had been lying on their backs seemingly dead grabbed the demons by the legs, tripping them, and causing the ones behind to crash into their fallen kin.

Some of the soldiers began to laugh hysterically at the sight. They didn't stop firing as they laughed.

Keir had been right, the worker zombies and skeletons he'd created the night before weren't capable of fighting. But using them as a trap to slow the demons down, they had worked perfectly. The demons snapped, stabbed and pounded on the undead, trying to free themselves, even as they were cut down by gunfire.

As the first zombies were torn apart, the next row of undead grabbed at the demons. A ridge of dead and wounded demons began to form. Then the larger demons arrived.

Massive handed Crushers grabbed the dead and dying demons, throwing them into the trenches. Soldiers had to duck, or risk getting hit. A few unlucky ones didn't move in time, they were knocked down and stunned from the blows. Most of them got up a few moments later, shaking their heads, eyes unfocused, but still capable of pulling a trigger.

Some of the demons survived the flight, they lashed out biting and clawing at anyone who was close. Children ran all along the trench, stabbing the demons, living and dead, with spears, letting the soldiers focus on firing into the horde.

Von reached out with his magic, healing and invigorating the dozens of soldiers along his trench. He'd learned the spell over a decade ago when he'd been training to be a healer, it had served him well over the years. The firing picked up as the soldiers felt relief from the pain and wounds that had become a fact of life.

“Grenades!” a sergeant shouted.

The older children reached into satchels, pulling out homemade hand bombs. Lighting the fuses they lobbed the grenades high into the air. The explosions were tiny compared to the artillery that was still falling, but it shredded the demons who were almost at the trenches.

Von couldn't help but be amazed. The demons should have overrun them already. A few thousand humans in trenches defending against a horde of this size was a hopeless cause. The Screechers would have taken out the artillery, or forced too many soldiers to focus on killing them, allowing the horde to get closer relatively unharmed. No sane human would have, or could have, stood in the hordes way like the undead had, slowing them for precious minutes, allowing the artillery to kill them in droves. 

That morning, he would have laid good money on the ragged army breaking at the sight of the demons. Now they were laughing. It was crazed laughter of disbelief and hysteria, but it was still laughter.

What could Keir accomplish with a week to prepare?

His thoughts were brought back to the present. A long, lizard-like Reaper was racing towards the trench. Staying low to the ground, weaving and dodging erratically, it was avoiding most of the bullets, the ones that did hit seemed to bounce off its scales.

Acting on instinct, Von sent a wave of magic into the earth in front of the trench. As the Reaper dug its long scythe-like claws into the dirt, preparing to leap into the trench, the mud sucked it down. The demon shrieked, struggling to climb out of the unnatural quicksand. A bullet struck its temple, silencing it forever.

More demons charged, some got stuck in the quicksand, others jumped over it, or used the trapped demons as stepping stones. Another volley of grenades were thrown, and the firing became more desperate.

Channelling the ambient magic through him, adding his own to the mix, Von wove it into a spell. Spreading his arms wide, spears of air flew at the demons, piercing their hides, knocking them backwards.

All along the line officers blew their whistles, signalling that trenches were about to be overrun. Drawing his sword, Von cast more spells, trying to hold the demons back for a few more precious moments.

Keir

His eyesight was still blurry.

Getting to his feet, relieved that his heart had found a proper, if very fast, rhythm, Keir wiped at his eyes, hoping that would improve his vision. It didn't.

A shrill whistle was making his already aching head, hurt even more.

He went to the side of the trench and managed to peer out at the battlefield. It was a wall of demons, all of them running forwards. Worse, the edge of the horde was almost on top of them.

Bracing himself, he grabbed hold of his fleeting magic. Weaving it into the dead roots that had been crushed and ruined by bombs, feet and claws, he willed them to rise up. The demons fell as dead plants wrapped themselves around their legs.

Leaning against the trench side trying through sheer force of will to make his heart slow down, he pushed himself to keep casting. Several dozen ghostly constructs, no larger than hummingbirds, took form. The tiny things were little more than ethereal blades. They flew through the air, slicing at the demons eyes, throats and limbs, trying to kill or lame them.

He had never been so tired. This wasn't the type of war he was used to. This was like fighting a force of nature. If he'd had time to prepare, he might have been able to do something, but with what he had and no time, it was damn near hopeless.

A Gnasher made it into the trench. The two legged mouth, launched itself at a child who couldn't be more than ten years old, that tried to spear it.

Keir's ghostly servant Hanina, made herself visible, placing herself between the child and the demon, a knife appearing in her hand. The demon hit her ghostly body, not stopping, but slowed down enough that it fell to the ground just short of the child. A second later, the ethereal knife cleaved through its skull.

More demons made it into the trench. Hanina silently charged at them, passing harmlessly through any humans, as she stabbed and slashed the monsters.

A Render crawled into the trench right next to Keir. The large, four-legged demon opened its enormous bony jaws, lunging at him.

Keir was yanked to the side by a soldier. The Render snapped its mouth shut so swiftly, he felt the air move. Realizing he was still alive, Keir slapped the demon with his hand. He felt the life force of the demon, the powerful magic that coursed through its body, and its tiny, savage soul.

He absorbed it all.

The energy jolted him off his feet.

The demon roared in his head. He needed to kill something. Without realizing it, death energy formed around his hands, creating long, dark claws. The same energy covered his skin, crackling and snapping as he moved.

He watched the demon turn to ash and laughed.

They all needed to die.

Getting to his feet, he saw that the trench was full of soldiers and demons, fighting and dying. A childlike Imp tried to stab him with its long knife-like claws. He caught its arm and absorbed it's soul and energy. The roaring in his head got louder.

“Keep control, Keir,” he told himself, his voice an almost inhuman growl.

Drawing his sword, the energy moved from his hands to the blade. Walking down the trench, every demon that was cut by the blade burned and died. A few demons managed to claw him, the magical energy surrounding him blunted their attacks. Those unlucky demons found themselves grabbed, their souls ripped out and eaten.

Soldiers all along the trench, cheered or breathed a sigh of relief as the demons were slaughtered. Then they saw Keir's twisted, gleeful expression, his black eyes that were more monstrous then the demons, and heard his inhumanly loud growl. The cheers died away. The soldiers cowered, pushing themselves against the side of the trench. Momentarily forgetting the demons who were trying to kill them.

Keir didn't notice any of this. The shrieking in his head was too loud. One desire filled his mind, kill every demon that he could find and eat their soul.

Floria

Racing down the side trench, Floria wished, not for the first time, that she was riding her horse. It wasn't natural fighting in the dirt like this. The  Lleial were cavalry, not infantry. Unfortunately there was no place for a horse in this type of fighting.

Now they were shock troops, plugging holes and retaking trenches.

A dark hound leapt at her, it's dog like jaws going for her throat. The runes on her shotgun glowed, helping her aim. Pulling the trigger, the butt slammed painfully into her shoulder. The shell went through the demons mouth, turning its brain into mush. Jumping over the body, she pumped the shotgun, ejecting the shell and chambering the next.

Reaching the main trench, her ten man squad right behind her, she couldn't hear much. The second, third and fourth trench lines were firing for all they were worth, and the artillery was coming down almost on top of them. She was surprised they hadn't run into more demons, the monsters should have been charging through the side trench. Still there was no hesitation as she and her squad turned and ran into the trench. They all knew what they were going to see, a lot of dead humans and living demons that needed to die. They had to hit hard and ruthlessly if they were to have any hope of clearing it out.

What she saw was the last thing she expected. Most of the soldiers were firing at horde. The children and teenagers were helping the wounded, moving the dead out of the way and handing out weapons and ammo. Dozens of demons littered the ground, most of them had diseased wounds that smelled of rot.

From the far end of the trench rose an inhuman shriek.

Waving to her squad, she ran towards the noise.

A four armed Brute threw a dead man to the ground. Floria raised her shotgun, ready to take its head off, when the demon screamed and turned to ash. Getting closer, she watched in amazement as several demons tried to escape over the side of the trench.

Floria saw the Regua and felt her heart soar. No wonder the demons were fleeing, they couldn't stand against the Emperor. Dark energy flashed and surged around the saviour, as she slashed at the demons who dared stand against her.

A Crusher jumped into the trench, its fists raised ready to kill. It swung its massive arms, hitting the Regua, sending her flying backwards.

“Kill it!” Floria shouted in rage, firing as she did.

The monster crashed to the ground, its body riddled with bullets.

The Regua got to her feet and raced towards the body, placing her hands on it. Nothing happened and she gave a monstrous shriek. Then the young woman turned to glare at Floria and her squad. The Regua's face was twisted in rage, streaked with blood and dirt, a monstrous mockery of the confident and cheerful woman, Floria had met earlier.

For a moment it looked like The Regua would attack them. Then the woman turned away and did the most insane thing Floria had ever seen, she climbed out of the trench and charged the demons.

For a moment, she and her squad could only stare in astonishment and disbelief. No one could get out of the trench and survive. The artillery, gunfire and demons would kill anyone in a matter of minutes, if they were lucky.

“Protect the Regua! Stay low!” she shouted, climbing out of the trench. She was going to die, but she'd die doing her duty.

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The Necromancer Unmanned will be updated every Sunday. My other story The Oubliette, will be updated every second Friday, and Doom Valley Prep School will be updated every Monday.

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, look at background info, see snippets of potential stories, and have a chance to choose what I write next, you can support me on my Patreon page.

This was insane.

Floria dove into a shell hole, trying to keep her shotgun out of the muck as a Dark Hound came charging out of the smoke. Rolling onto her back, she fired into the chest of the demon a second before it landed on her.

The dead weight of the thing pushed her into the mud. Its rank breath filled her sinuses, razor sharp fangs caressed her cheek as it feebly tried to bite her. She tried to wriggle out, her legs pushing against the wet dirt, but couldn't find any purchase in the pulverized earth. Hot, stinking blood coated her chest,  making her skin itch.

Letting go of her shotgun, she worked her arm back and forth, managing to get it free. Grabbing the whistle hanging from her neck, she blew on it, hoping the piercing noise could be heard over the sounds of battle.

A moment later seven figures appeared, crawling through the mud. The biggest one came to her side, while the others formed a circle around her, shooting at anything that came too close. With the shells falling, trying to break the horde of demons into more manageable waves, and the sheer amount of bullets flying through the air, her small squad was barely noticeable.

“You OK, Lieutenant?” Private Pol asked, dragging the demon corpse off of her.

“Just stuck,” she replied. Rolling to her stomach, she looked at her shotgun and grimaced, the barrel was filthy. “Where's the Regua?”

Pol pointed towards a pack of demons at least fifty yards away. “In the middle of that.”

Cursing, she got to her hands and knees, trying to avoid the bullets that would take her head off if she got too high, she raised her voice to be heard. “We need to take some of the pressure of the Regua. Lucas, Sofia, take point. Pol you're guarding our back. Everyone else get a grenade ready, when we get to about twenty yards throw it and start shooting.”

Her squad got moving, going from one bit of cover to the next. Four years of fighting demons, first in their desert home, than through the forests and mountains on their way here, and finally over several weeks on this bloody field alongside their former enemies, had made them expert fighters. Anyone who was a slow learner, incompetent or just unlucky was dead, or too badly maimed to keep fighting. Whenever a demon noticed them, shots rang out, dropping it before it could get too close.

Finally they were close enough to throw the heavy metal grenades, the last manufactured ones Desolation Fort had in their supply depot. Pulling the pin, Floria shouted, “Now!” and lobbed the grenade at the edge of the demons, trying not to get too close to the Regua, who could be heard shouting and cursing in the middle of the pack.

The grenades went off, killing several of the demons and knocking more off their feet. Firing into the surprised pack, demons fell not knowing what had hit them.

Dozens more turned to see what had dared attack them.

“Well we've got their attention,” Floria muttered, as at least half the monsters broke off from their attack on the necromancer and charged.

Firing as quickly as she could, she allowed herself to smile. If they were going to die, they'd at least done their duty.

Looking over a map of the pass, Ajani watched tiny figures moving, fighting and dying on the thin wooden panels. Ornately carved runes glowed along the edges, absorbing the energy of Luis, a Yellow Mage, who sat patiently, ready to pass his orders to the other mages fighting in the trenches.

“Luis, send another three squads to number twelve, 2nd trench line. Bring grenades,” he said. The trench was about to be hit by several hundred demons who had finished slaughtering everyone in reach and were now heading for the nearest humans they could see.

He should be leaving orders like this to his subordinates. A general was supposed to focus on the army as a whole, not single trenches and squads. But his army was less than four thousand strong, counting the child soldiers, and squeezed into a relatively narrow pass. It wasn't the seventy thousand men he'd led at the start of the war, before the Khabir Confederacy had died.

Frowning he watched another front line trench fall. A few soldiers managed to escape, fleeing for their lives down the side trenches. A squad of shock troops tried to slow the demons, they didn't last long.

If his people had been properly trained, he would have ordered them to fall back. But he was dealing with half trained refugees, backed up by a few hundred professional soldiers and a thousand religious fanatics cavalrymen. If he ordered them back, the refugees would panic and rout, causing everyone else to do the same. It was better to hold the line and try to plug any holes as quickly as possible. 

“Luis, mortars rapid fire, number four, 1st trench line.”

There was one particularly bright spot. He had no idea why the necromancer had left her trench, but wherever she went the demons died. Now they were mostly giving her a wide birth, only sending in a few demons to keep her away from the rest. If only he could direct her, but she wasn't listening to Luis, and moved so erratically he wondered if she was insane. At least her trench was relatively secure thanks to her presence.

The rest of the trench lines were pouring fire onto the demons. He'd organized the trenches to form a crescent, flanked by the steep cliffs of the pass. The field before them was killing field. Against any human army, they would have lasted weeks or months, until starvation and artillery killed them. But the demons weren't human. 

Still, despite the loses, the battle was going well. They were still alive and it was almost evening. He hadn't expected that to happen. Looking up from the map, he peered through a pair of brass binoculars towards the woods. Depending on how many demons were in the horde, they might survive until the morning.

He lowered the binoculars, rubbed his eyes, and looked again. Where there had been a flood of demons streaming into the battlefield, now there were only a few thousand. That shouldn't be happening, they had only faced a quarter of the horde. Unless there were surprisingly few demons in the region, they should be looking at a days long fight.

“What are you bastards planning?” he asked.

Stretching out his hand, Von covered a group of soldiers in a shield of pure magic, protecting them from the earth shattering blows of a Crusher. A wave of his hand sent the shield crashing into the oversized demon, crushing it against the side of the trench.

Mortars exploded along the lip of the trench, slowing the demons that were trying to get into the trench. Bullets from trenches higher up the pass flew just over their heads, cutting down still more of the monsters. Soldiers in the trench got back on the line, firing point blank into the horde, desperately trying to push them back.

Spinning on his heels, Von raced down the trench towards another group of demons. His sword flashed, taking the head off of a Brute. An Imp moved to gut him, when the butt of a rifle knocked it to the ground. He stabbed it before it could get up.

A Reaper stabbed its bone scythe into the stomach of a shock trooper. The man, screaming in pain, raised his shotgun and fired it point blank into the demons face. They both dropped unmoving to the ground. Von jumped over the bodies, there was nothing he could do for the dead, and there were still demons who needed to die.

Between himself and the reinforcements, they managed to clear the trench. Over half the soldiers were dead or wounded, but the artillery was still firing, and more soldiers were running up to take their place on the line. The children came back from the supply trenches and dugouts, bringing ammunition, first aid kits, and more homemade grenades. Kneeling in the blood soaked dirt, he struggled to catch his breath. He didn't know how long the fighting had lasted. Mentally it seemed to have only been a few minutes, physically it felt like days.

A voice whispered in his mind. 'Von, what's the situation?' Luis asked.

'Holding. Took a beating. Nearly lost it. Killed them all. Still holding,' he said. His thoughts were choppy and confused from exhaustion, he hoped he could have a few moments to rest.

'Good to hear. Almost every other front line trench is overrun. The horde seems to be lessening. General Ajani thinks we can hold the second line, but a few trenches are touch and go.'

'Who's holding out?'

'You and Keira. But we have a problem, Keira's gone insane.'

Howling filled his mind, overpowering his thoughts and emotions. There was only the torment of souls being torn apart, ravenous hunger, and the need to kill.

A gunshot rang out behind him. Spinning around he saw a demon collapse to the ground. It was close enough that mud splattered on his face. A human waved at him, shouting something he couldn't understand. He shrieked in anger, he could feel the magic and souls within him being sapped away, weakening him, leaving him vulnerable.

He needed more souls, and he couldn't get them from the humans.

The earth erupted and an explosion sent him flying.

He felt something snap in his arm. The pain was a drop in an ocean of agony, not even worth noticing.

Trying to get to his feet, his arm refused to support him. He screamed in anger, it quickly became a coughing fit. He couldn't get enough air.

A fist crashed into his back. His shield held, but his body was driven deeper into the mud. He gasped for air, breathing in blood and dirt.

Another hammer blow came down.

Then he was picked up, hands enveloped his arms and legs. A monster leered as it slowly began ripping him apart.

Keir grinned.

He didn't see the physical body of the four armed Brute. All he could see now was the magic and life that flowed through the demon. He wrapped his own magic around it, pulling its energy and soul into himself. Laughter erupted from his throat while the dark, vicious soul of the demon screeched in agony as it entered his body.

The demon turned to ash, dropping Keir to the ground. A pack of Dark Hounds fell on him, snapping and tearing, trying to get at his flesh.

Swinging his sword one handed, the howl that came from Keir's mouth matched the howling in his mind.

The mud tasted like blood.

Floria looked around searching for her squad. It wasn't easy lying flat in the dirt, trying not to get shot by her own side or killed by the demons. The blood blinding her left eye didn't help matters. She wasn't sure if that wound was from shrapnel, a bullet or a claw.

A Gnasher screeching in hunger, ran towards her, it's massive teeth clicking loud enough to be heard over the noise of battle. Aiming one of her revolvers, her shotgun lost long ago, she fired three times. The demon fell face first into the mud, mewling and struggling to reach her. She ignored it, not wanting to waste the bullet to finish it off.

Reloading her revolver, she started crawling through the torn up, blood soaked field, heading for the Regua. At least she could see her.  No one else was insane enough, or powerful enough, to be fighting toe to toe with the demons. Not that many demons wanted to fight the necromancer.

The area directly around the Regua was mostly free of demons and explosions. While shells kept falling nearby, this part of the battlefield looked deserted. A steady trickle of demons kept coming, but most seemed to veer off, searching for easier prey.

It was the only reason she was still alive.

“Flor, coming over!” A large figure waved at her, then began crawling on his belly, covered in mud and blood. She grinned to see one of her soldiers was still alive.

“Pol, where the blazes is everyone?” she asked.

“Lucas lost a leg, Sofia and Beil dragged him back. I think Jan got hit by a shell. I don't know where anyone else is, lost them when those Crushers jumped us,” he said.

She cursed. “I think we're all that's left. How are you for bullets?”

“Got two revolvers and twelve bullets. Lost my ammo belt to an Imp.”

Taking a clip on bullet holder from her own belt, she passed it over. “Should be twenty in there, don't waste them.”

Turning back to the Regua, who was stumbling across the battlefield looking for more demons, she motioned for Pol to follow her through the muck. Coming to a shredded demon, she rose up a little trying to climb over a leg that was larger than she was.

A sharp, hot pain erupted on her thigh. Biting her tongue to keep from screaming, she dove back into the mud. Rolling onto her back, revolver raised, there wasn't anything for her to shoot.

Looking at her leg, her pants were slit, revealing a nasty cut from a bullet.

“You OK?” Pol asked.

“Yeah. Some dog fucker took a shot at me. Just a graze, let's go.” She didn't have time to deal with the wound, it hurt but it wouldn't slow her down.

Keeping low, they made it to the Regua. The woman looked like hell, mud and blood covered her, along with the shifting darkness that seemed to shield her. Her arm was badly broken, and there seemed to be several bloody wounds all along her body. The gashes and cuts weren't slowing her down however. Turning to look at them, she still had the same mad grin, it flickered momentarily into a look of disgust. Then she turned away heading towards the demons that still ran across the battlefield.

“What's the plan? We're screwed if we get into a real fight,” Pol asked.

“Watch her back until we run out of bullets.”

“And then?”

“It's been an honour fighting at your side,” she said, grinning at him.

Pol glared at her for a moment before grinning as well. “At least guarding the Regua should get me a good position in the afterlife.”

A dozen demons broke off from the horde, heading for them, or more specifically the necromancer.

Scrambling forward, Floria and Pol saw the demons, large and small ones, move to flank the Regua. Raising their revolvers, they started shooting the smaller ones, careful to avoid the woman who was charging at a massive Reaper that was at least twenty feet long.

The demons ignored them, even as bullets cut them down. they were solely focused on their target. That suited Floria just fine, she was almost out of bullets, and going against them hand to hand was a death sentence.

Pausing to reload, she watched as one demon after another turned to ash. Each time, the necromancer howled like a wild animal. Floria realized that this wasn't a fight, it was a feast. Every demon that died fed the necromancer, making her move faster, fight harder and somehow kept her on her feet despite her injuries.

“What does it feel like to be the prey?” she whispered, as her peoples saviour once more stalked towards the horde.

Von

This was a bad idea.

He knew that going out into no man's land, even the strangely deserted part around Keir, was a death sentence. How the necromancer was still alive was a mystery. The fact that he and his group of volunteers, all Lleial, were still alive in the blasted, blood soaked wasteland was little short of a miracle.

It was slow going, one of the volunteers had been killed when they'd raised their head too high. That had been enough to make them all shove their faces in the dirt and crawl on their bellies. Fortunately most of the artillery and shooting was focused on the few thousand demons that were still charging the trenches, and not the mostly clear area around the necromancer.

'Where is she?' he thought to Luis.

'Eighty yards to your left. It looks like there are two soldiers close to her,' the mage responded.

Making sure his shield was in place and reinforced, he got to his knees and saw a handful of demons fighting, and dying, in the distance. Waving to his men, they moved a little more quickly through the craters and piles of dirt that littered the field.

It took longer than he'd like, but they finally managed to get close to Keir. Even from a distance the necromancer looked horrible. The woman was moving jerkily, one moment barely able to hold her sword in her one good arm, head down, sagging as if utterly exhausted, her dark shield flickering in and out of existence. Then she'd touch a demon, turning it to ash, and she'd move with almost superhuman speed, killing three or four demons in a matter of seconds, before slowing down again.

He'd never seen anything like it.

A four armed Brute climbed out of a shell hole, it was badly wounded, but it still lumbered towards the fighting.

Von saw his soldiers raise their rifles, ready to take the monster down, when his jaw dropped. Two figures came out of the mud, jumping on the demon from behind and began stabbing it with long knives.

If the Brute hadn't been badly injured, it would have killed them in seconds. But all it could do was feebly try to grab them, before falling to its knees. Its attackers jumped away, diving back into the mud.

“Kill the demons around Keira,” he ordered, not wanting to use any more of his magic if he didn't have to.

The demons fell to the unexpected attack, leaving Keir standing alone, sword raised. Her eyes fell on him for a moment, there was no hint of recognition in them. She turned away, slowly walking towards the sound of fighting, dragging her sword in the mud.

“KEIR STOP!” he ordered.

The necromancer stopped dead in her tracks.

'Luis, tell them to stop shooting near the necromancer. We've got her, but she's in bad shape,' he thought.

“Stay down until we're sure they won't shoot us,” he told his soldiers.

Getting to his feet he walked up to Keir, flinching as a bullet whistled past his ear.

“Keir, can you hear me?” he asked.

The necromancer glared at him, teeth clenched so tightly it looked like they were about to break as her body shook. Her skin was a mix of dark red where veins pressed up against the skin and mottled green, black and blue bruises. Her eyes were so bloodshot it was impossible to see any white. Her muscles, clearly visible under her torn and ragged clothes, were taut. Bone jutted out of her left arm, gashes and cuts covered her body.

Touching her forehead, Von jerked his hand back from the heat.

A new group of demons came towards them. He ignored the monsters and the gunshots that cut them down. Weaving a healing spell together, he wrapped the energy around Keir. The necromancers skin paled slightly, her veins no longer quite so prominent.

Keir collapsed into the mud.

Casting another spell, Von saw her heart was beating so fast it was about to burst. He could barely sense her life energy, her body was using everything it had trying to stay alive.

'Luis! I'm coming in with Keir. I need a healer, she's about to die,' he thought.

Waving at his men, he shouted, “Carry her, we're going straight to the trench.”

A large soldier picked the tiny necromancer up in his arms, and began walking rapidly towards the trench. Von matched his steps, grabbed Keir's hand, channelling what was left of his magic into her, praying that she would survive.

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The Necromancer Unmanned will be updated every Sunday. My other story The Oubliette, will be updated every Friday, and Doom Valley Prep School will be updated every Monday.

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, look at background info, see snippets of potential stories, and have a chance to choose what I write next, you can support me on my Patreon page.

The city of Limani was dying around Keir.

Smoke and gunfire filled the air, women and children screamed in terror, while men pleaded for their live. The undead marched through the streets looking for any signs of resistance, while soldiers roamed the city looking for treasure, drink and pleasure.

A month ago, Emperor Keir had decreed that Limani and its royal family were to be put to death for treason, murder, rebellion and killing a member of the Imperial family. The men were to be killed, the women and children would be taken as prisoners and exiled to labour camps, and teenage boys would be placed in penal legions where they could earn the right to become proper soldiers. But before that happened, the Undying Army was given three days to do whatever they wished to the city and its inhabitants.

He had only passed a similar judgment twice before, it was not something he did lightly.

Keir stood before the Royal Palace, his imperial guard stood behind him. No one dared get between him and his goal. Bullets and crossbow bolts hit his magical shield. Despite the magical runes that allowed the weapons to harm the undead, his shields held firm.

Marching up to the gate, ignoring the gunfire, he channelled magic through his body, adding his own power to it, creating a physical force far more powerful than any cannon. The heavy metal doors held for a moment, the runic magic the made the doors nearly invulnerable flared a brilliant yellow before fading away. The doors flew off their massive hinges, crushing the guards who had been standing several yards behind them.

Blackness spread from his hands, searching for the living. The gunfire died down as black tendrils touched warm flesh, sucking the life from the guards who dared to fire at Keir and his guards. He absorbed their life essence, allowing the souls to fade away, leaving only desiccated husks that turned to powder as they hit the floor.

His imperial guards entered behind him, their swords and black powder pistols at the ready. A few enemy guards who had managed to survive tried to surrender. They were cut down without mercy.

Servants, members of the household, and guards screamed as his men spread throughout the palace, breaking down doors, slaughtering everyone they found.

Keir headed for the throne room. It was the one part of the palace his ghostly scouts couldn't reach, clearly it was where his prey was hiding. A few brave guards stood in his way, they didn't survive long. He reached the ancient wooden doors, the last barrier preventing his vengeance.

He could feel the enchantments that had been placed in the wood over the centuries. They would not break as easily as the metal gate. Placing his hand on the door, he cast a spell of aging. The doors turned black as rot slowly ate away at wood and enchantments.

The enchantments lashed out at him. His hand began to smoke, the defensive magic burned his flesh, trying to make him stop. Gritting his teeth, he released his tightly bound rage, the pain faded away even as his glove caught fire.

Finally the door fell apart. Stepping over the rotten, steaming debris, he waved his hands and his banshees obeyed, flying into the throne room, grabbing everyone who was there, guards, mages and royalty, stunning them with their screams.

Walking over to Prince Acastus who was lying on a silk bed, the stump of his right arm tightly bound, Keir allowed himself a moment to savour the hatred in the young mans eyes. “Do you have any last words?” he asked.

“Do you think this is the end? The entire Yellow Coast is in revolt, the Coalition has been reformed and is preparing for war. Your Empire will die soon,” Prince Acastus said.

“They've attacked before, maybe they'll succeed this time. But I doubt it,” Keir said.

“You shouldn't be so confident, you don't have your famed general anymore. I'm just sorry I won't be there to see you fall.”

For the first time since his eldest daughter and her fiance had been assassinated, Keir smiled. “That's where you're mistaken, you'll be there. You should thank me, I'm going to give you a gift that most people would kill for. You're going to be immortal.”

Grabbing the former prince, Keir ripped his soul out. The feeble, wispy thing strained in his grasp, trying to escape, magic held it firmly in place. Black magic rippled over his hands, as he pulled and tore at the soul. Its shrieks were music in his ears. Reaching into his pouch, he produced a perfect sphere of white quartz. The tattered soul screamed as it was pulled into the stone.

Holding the quartz to his eye, Keir stroked it almost lovingly. “An eternity of pain, unable to feel, taste or touch. You can only watch and listen, never speaking, never moving. Now watch what I'm going to do to your family and people.”

Taking a seat on the throne, healers began treating his burned hand. Ignoring their ministrations, he motioned for his torturers to enter and begin the days entertainment. He grinned, listening to the former prince wail in his cell of stone.

Keir slowly woke up from his memories.

He wanted to stay asleep, there was no pain, no worries then, just his memories. The sharp, pulsing pain behind his eyes, the cold, prickling sensation of ants biting his arm, and the painful cramps of hunger, wouldn't let him fall back to sleep.

Opening his eyes, he saw he was in the same chamber where he'd spent his first night. The youngest of his assigned maids, Galia sat dozing in a chair by his side, a fire warmed the room. His ghostly maid Hanina moved around the room dusting and tidying things in the firelight.

Concentrating, not an easy task with his headache, he felt his personal magic. It was still weak, but not dangerously so. He thought of sitting up, his body refused to move, he hurt too much and he didn't have enough energy.

Lying there, unmoving, he allowed himself to remember what had happened. Slowly vague memories of the battle came back to him. The exhaustion, the fear, pushing himself past his limits, struggling to survive as a wave of death charged at him. The only time he'd come that close to dying had been the day he'd died so long ago.

Then he'd taken not only the life energy of the demons, but their souls as well.

He'd known it was possible, he'd done experiments on it in the past. He just hadn't known that the consequences would be so harsh.

Shivering, he forced himself to look at his actions. If it hadn't been for his geas, he would have gladly killed and feasted on the soldiers who fought by his side. The intoxication of power from feasting on the souls, the power that ran through him, the joy and excess of it all, he'd forgotten he was human.

There was something he could use there, but not on himself. He couldn't risk losing himself like that again.

Hunger tore through him. Groaning, he managed to raise his hand slightly, letting Hanina know he was awake.

“Yes, my lady?” she asked, in an airy whisper.

“Water, food,” he whispered.

The ghostly maid went to a small table where a covered tray rested alongside a pitcher of water, a bottle of wine and several glasses. The cover had runes on it, keeping the food fresh and warm. When she took the cover off, Keir's mouth began to water at the smell of fresh bread and meat.

Hanina helped him sit up, propping several pillows against his back to keep him from falling. The lukewarm water was pure bliss in his bone dry mouth. After draining the glass he felt strong enough to feed himself.

The food was not what he expected. The flat bread was a dark brown, biting into it, it was a little bitter with a taste that reminded him of pine. The meat was heavily salted, and cooked in a thick gravy. It tasted a little like sweet pork, but resembled beef.

“What is this?” he asked.

“Bark bread and demon meat,” the maid answered.

He'd heard of the poor making bread from bark during famines, he had never thought he'd actually try it. Taking another bite of the bread, which had a slight woody texture, he would have happily gone the rest of his life never tasting it. Still, food was food, at least there was a lot of it.

The demon meat was interesting, a little tough, but it had a nice flavour, with an almost honey like undertone. His former head chef would be able to turn the meat into at least three dozen different dishes, each one more fantastic than the last.

Thinking of the demons, he smiled a little. The people would be able to eat well for a while with how many of the monsters they had killed. Hopefully they were salting and smoking the demons for the coming winter. They'd need all the food they could get.

“Regua you're awake. I'm sorry for falling asleep, is there anything I can get for you?” Galia asked, hastily getting up from her chair, as she wiped sleep from her eyes.

“It's fine, Hanina was here to serve me,” he said. He couldn't blame the young girl for falling asleep, judging by the moon it was well past midnight. “How long was I asleep?”

“Four days, Regua. They cast healing spells on you several times each day, but weren't sure if you would wake up.”

“And the demons?”

“They have fled. The Lleial cavalry has scouted the forest for miles and only found a few injured and dying demons.” The girls eyes sparkled in the fire light as she spoke.

Well that was interesting, he thought. The demons must have been surprised by the unexpected resistance and his unknown magic. He wondered how long they'd stay back. It couldn't be too long. If they acted anything like humans, they would want to bring in their stronger forces, test the defences and then hit back with overwhelming strength, crushing the threat before it could spread.

“What has been done since the battle?”

“I don't know much,” she said, “I've been caring for you. But I know that they've had work parties going down the pass, butchering the demons and scouring the forest for food. And they're digging more trenches, making walls and burning more of the forest to prepare for the next attack.”

“Good. Thank you, Galia. I'm going back to sleep. Make sure I'm up at dawn, I need to talk to Von and General Ajani. This is only the first step in avenging the Lleial,” he said.

Hanina took his tray, while Galia helped him lie down. Before he closed his eyes, he saw fire burning in the girls eyes. Smiling to himself, he realized that despite his fears and how close the battle had been, he had accomplished his first goal, he'd given the people hope and gained his first real followers.

It was a good start all things considered.

“This won't do at all,” Keir said, looking at himself in the mirror.

He was currently wearing a poorly fitting dress with a skirt that reached the floor and threatened to trip him every time he took a step. His attempts to find a pair of pants that fit had failed thanks to his short legs, and wide hips. No matter what he tried, his body just didn't seem to fit. His old outfit had been thrown out, it had been cut to ribbons along with being covered in blood, mud and smoke.

If he was going to gain some control he had to look the part of a leader and warrior. Pants that barely fit and baggy shirts on the body of a young lady made him look like a court jester. The old gowns that had been pulled out of storage, made him look like a daughter playing dress up in her mothers clothes.

His maids had offered him their own clothes, that they'd worn before becoming maids. The painted blue leather pants, white cotton blouse, and long blue leather jacket, were more to his liking, but they still didn't fit his small frame, and they were badly worn with many stains and patches. He needed something clean and fresh. Also while he saw the Lleial as a large source of support, he couldn't risk turning the other factions against him by obviously courting the warriors.

It looked like something would need to be done.

Going to the bed, and nearly tripping as he stepped on his skirts, he gingerly took a hold of his magic and threaded it into the shadows under the blankets. Grabbing the shadow cloth he pulled it out and laid it on the bed. Mentally he kept a hold of the cloth with his magic, allowing it to be shaped and molded like soft clay.

“Ladies,” he said to the maids, “I need a new outfit.”

While they stripped him out of his dress, he told them what he wanted.

It was well past dawn when Keir considered himself properly dressed. The black shadow outfit was a hodgepodge of different styles from all over the continent when he'd first been alive. For easy movement he was wearing a pair of pants, they weren't quite skin tight, until they reached his ankles where they clung to his skin. A long tunic covered his body, hips, and upper thighs, giving him some modesty. The tunic had a split at the sides starting at the hips, so it wasn't quite a skirt. It was tight enough at the chest, waist and hips to show he had a womans body, without showing any details. It opened at the back with a series of tiny, almost invisible hooks.

A scarf was wrapped around his head, hiding his baldness and the tattoo that marked his scalp. One end hung down his back like a braid. A pair of slippers provided some protection for his feet, and a pair of long black gloves finished the look.

He had to admit he looked unique. The sheer black fabric made his pale white face stand out, and made him appear older than his body really was. It wouldn't be good for a party, but the sombre, strict appearance was perfect for formal settings.

Now that he had the look, it was time to show his power.

Taking in as much ambient magic as he could, to spare his own still depleted magic, he wove two spirits into existence. They looked like his old body guards, with silver chestplates and helmets, swords at their sides, two pistols, black shirts and pants. Silently they took their place at his side.

His maids smiled in delight at his show of power.

“Ladies, it's time I make a proper appearance,” he said.

With his guards ahead of him, and his four maids at his back, it wasn't much of an entourage, but it was the best he could do for now. Hopefully it would be enough.

Stepping out of his room, Keir went to rebuild his empire.

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The Necromancer Unmanned will be updated every Sunday. My other story The Oubliette, will be updated every Friday, and Doom Valley Prep School will be updated every Monday.

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, look at background info, see snippets of potential stories, and have a chance to choose what I write next, you can support me on my Patreon page.

Keir strode down the hall like he was the master of the keep. The servants they passed hastily got out of the way at the sight of the pair of ghostly guards who marched silently in front. His three living maids followed behind, he would need them later.

The keep was quite large, designed to hold over a thousand soldiers and officers, dozens of servants and skilled labourers, and the families of the officers and workers. Now it was nearly deserted, the majority of soldiers having been called to more important sites during the long war. Most of the remaining inhabitants were out collecting food or building proper fortifications. So despite the surprisingly long walk from the guest room to General Ajani's office, they didn't meet many people, and none that were important enough to stop them.

Silently Keir commanded one of his bodyguards to knock on the generals door. It was opened a moment later by a badly scarred young man wearing a faded red uniform, his left arm ended just below the elbow. The young officer looked at the ghostly guards with dark, haunted eyes.

“Mage Keira, how can I be of service?” the man asked.

“I wish to speak to General Ajani and his staff about the war effort,” Keir said.

“I'm sorry, General Ajani is currently in a meeting, I will inform him of your wishes as soon as he's done. If you could return to your room, I believe he may have time to speak to you this afternoon.”

Keir took a moment to think about his options. He could insist on meeting the general at once, it would be most satisfying, but ultimately counterproductive. The general was one of the two people he desperately needed to turn into an ally, forcing a confrontation would sour things. Waiting for the meeting to end wouldn't work either. There was too much do, and waiting patiently like a servant would give the wrong impression. So he did the only thing he could.

Hiding his thoughts behind a pleasant smile, Keir said, “That would be appreciated. I'll be busy around the keep or the refugee camp, so my maid Hanina will remain here. When the general is free she will be able to find me in a minute or two.”

Hanina glided forward, taking a position beside the door.

The officer glanced at the ghostly maid, clearly uncertain about having her standing in the hallway. His training kicked in and he nodded. “Very well. I'm certain the general will ask for you as soon as possible. Good day.”

Turning away from the officer, Keir headed for the refugee camp.

Trying to speak to High Commander Alder would likely end in failure. The commander clearly didn't like him, and at best considered him a useful tool, only fit to follow orders. There was no point in trying to change their relationship until he had a firm base of support. The other leaders and dignitaries he'd briefly met all seemed to think much the same way. They'd made no attempt to meet him, or provide support, so seeking them out would be pointless and make him appear weak.

Meeting Von could be useful, but he had no idea where the mage might be. For all he knew Von could be at the pass helping build up the defences, or meeting with General Ajani. Word would soon get around that he was awake and working, the mage and anyone else interested could find him.

In fact having a few hours alone to start his own plans would be best.

He didn't know what Von or the others would say about his next plan of action, and honestly he didn't care. He'd discovered at an early age that simply doing what he wanted and dealing with the complaints after everything was done, was easier than asking permission and spending hours or days arguing about it.

The camp seemed almost empty compared to the first time he'd seen it. There were children, elders, and a few adults resting or playing in the sun. The adults were mostly sick or injured, being cared for by people who might be family and a handful of priests and priestesses. Young teenagers were moving among them, keeping the children in line, supporting the elders and doing chores.

The camp was cleaner. The piles of refuse that had made the camp a source of disease had largely disappeared. The paths were still muddy, but very little could get rid of that until the heat of the day dried them out. The tents and shacks were looking a little more sturdy, freshly cut wood had replaced the rotten sticks from a few days ago. There was also the smell of cooked food and wood fires. He smiled seeing the improvements. More work was needed if they were going to survive the winter, but it was a start.

Off in the distance he thought he saw people working on something that involved a lot of smoke. If he had to guess they were smoking demon meat, and tanning the hides, at least he hoped they were. The mountain air was cool, and winter couldn't be too far away. When it finally came they'd be snowed in for months.

Finding a comfortable rock by a cold fire pit, he sat down to rest his tired legs. He wondered just how much the battle had cost him physically. Or was it that he was in a body far weaker than he was used to? Whichever it was, he hoped he would regain his strength soon.

Turning to his maids, he said “Go collect anyone between ten years and sixteen that wants to learn magic. I'll wait here for them.”

“Yes, Regua,” they said, then hurried off.

Looking up at the brilliant blue sky, he wanted to do more. As emperor, there there had been many times he'd felt that time was being wasted on minutiae, pointless meetings with dignitaries, and travel. Yet there had always been things going on in the background, where his armies of soldiers, bureaucrats, diplomats, spies and mages did their duties, ensuring his goals and desires were met. Now he had so many things to do, and there was only him.

His allies were three maids, two barely more than children, the third an old woman who should be watching her grandchildren by a fire, and all of them had been desert raiders and herders. They were good for fetch and carry duties, and would be a good connection to the Lleial, but beyond that he didn't know what they could offer.

And then there was Von. The mage was hardly an ally. As long as he had the geas on him, Von was his master. The mage didn't openly hold his power over him, but it was always there. One step wrong and he could be made to lick Von's boots while begging for forgiveness.

If he concentrated he could feel the geas, a rough scar that was placed directly on his soul. He'd never heard or seen a geas like it. Most focused on the physical, causing pain or controlling the physical body like a puppet. This was one was deeper than that, he couldn't even think of disobeying it. He didn't know how to start breaking it. All his knowledge of breaking geas involved bypassing it, so it couldn't affect the body anymore. Could he do the same to his own soul without killing himself or damaging it so badly death would be a relief?

He was brought out of his musings by  the appearance of an old priestess. She was wearing the silver robes of the Father Moon sect, with yellow cuffs and collars showing that she was one of their healers. She came over and took a seat beside him, smiling in greeting.

Keir turned slightly to face her, smiling pleasantly. “Greetings Sister.”

“May the Father protect you and the Mother watch over you, Mage Keira,” the priestess said. “It seems the world is full of surprises.”

“Yes it is. I certainly didn't expect to see anything like this when I came back to life.”

“What did you think you'd see?”

Thinking about his answer, he decided to be honest, there was no harm in it. “I don't know. I was focused on the challenge, the results were something I didn't really consider at the time. I'll admit that curiosity is one of my flaws.”

The sister shook her head. “Curiosity is a blessing. Perhaps in this case it's a far greater blessing than usual.”

“You think it's a good thing that I'm here?” he asked, half smiling in amusement.

“How could I not? If not for you we would all be dead.”

He gave a small bow of thanks. “It's nice to be appreciated. I was getting a bit annoyed that only the Lleial seem to want me around.”

Her smile grew bigger. “The stories and books about you don't exactly paint you in a good light. However I have learned to judge people by their actions, not the sayings of another. You may be a force for good, or a force for bad. Your actions have shown that you will fight against the demons, which I appreciate. Whether it was to save yourself or to save others, I don't know, but either way your fight protects those around you.”

“That's a practical way to look at things,” he admitted. “If you don't mind my saying, it's rather unusual to find such practicality among the lower ranks of the priesthood.”

“I spent most of my years doing a circuit of the smaller villages in the Sal Mountains. Spending so much time around village folk taught me to be practical and avoid the eloquent words and metaphors of my peers. There isn't time to preach when a mother is dying in childbirth, or you have to rescue group of miners that have been buried in a cave-in. It's best to get the job done, and then share a few words of comfort as they heal or with the survivors. And if things aren't done exactly as the journals say, we can ask for forgiveness later, the Mother will understand.”

“What's your name Sister?”

“Simply Sister Kaja, I gave up my family name when I joined the church. I don't believe that was common when you were alive.”

“It wasn't, at least not among the higher members of the clergy.”

“There were some reforms after your death. Many questioned how Mother Sun and Father Moon could allow you to form your empire, it was decided the church wasn't devoted enough to the faith. Elder Brother Baden brought about a new era of humbleness and devotion, including removing our bonds to our former lives.” She shook her head. “I wonder what he would say if he was here and saw his church now.”

“I'd have thought you'd be asking what the Mother and Father would have to say.”

“I think they are shaking their heads at how long it took us to follow their plan.”

Keir cocked his head, wondering what she meant.

“You created your Heart, allowing you to remain in this world until you could be reborn in your new body. The Eldritch Council found it and rather than destroying it, they protected it for centuries. Now in a seemingly hopeless fight against the demons, you have been revived, bringing back magic that had been forbidden and cursed. Despite our fears and rules when it comes to necromancy, it may be our only chance at survival.”

He resisted the urge to sigh in disgust. “You're sounding like the Lleial, thinking I'm a prophesied saviour.”

“I suppose I do a little,” she admitted. “But you aren't a savior, you're merely human. The Mother and the Father, simply set you on a path to here where your skills and strength are desperately needed.”

“That doesn't sound very different from the Lleial.”

“They think you're a saint, a single step down from a god. I think you're a person who has done more evil than good in the past. Now you're being given a chance to balance the scales.”

For a moment Keir struggled not to scoff at the old woman. He had run his empire fairly, treating his loyal subjects with care, protecting them from their many enemies. What did he care about his enemies propaganda? As he thought about how to politely tell her what he thought, a group of older children came running towards him. Adria, his oldest maid, followed behind them.

Sister Kaja got to her feet, her joints popping loud enough to make Keir wince in sympathy. “It seems you're going to be busy, and I need to return to my duties. If you would like to talk more, just ask anyone where I am. They all know me.”

“Thank you, sister. I think I'll do that when I have the time,” he said.

“Just one last thing to think about. What do you want people to say about you in another three hundred years?” she asked, before walking away.

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The Necromancer Unmanned will be updated every Sunday. My other story The Oubliette, will be updated every Saturday, and Doom Valley Prep School will be updated every Monday.

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, look at background info, see snippets of potential stories, and have a chance to choose what I write next, you can support me on my Patreon page.

Putting the old priestess and her words out of his mind, Keir turned his attention to the children and teenagers who were coming to a stop before him. They were looking at him with wide eyes, some bowed their heads when they saw him looking. The oldest boy hobbled up on a crutch, then fell to his knees, his lame leg stretched awkwardly behind him, and looked at the ground.

From their stained leather clothes and their awe struck looks, he guessed they were Lleial. It made sense that his maids would go to their peoples children first. And those children would be most interested in learning magic from their supposed saviour.

More children and teenagers were coming as well. They came more hesitantly, clutching their ragged cotton clothes, the smaller children hiding behind their older peers. Only one of them looked him in the eyes, a girl who couldn't be older than fourteen, holding a babe to her chest, while two other young children clung to her skirt.

He took a moment to study her. Her eyes burned with hatred, he didn't think it was directed at him. He'd seen many people who wished him tortured and dead, this was a hatred at the world. She'd been hurt and wanted to share it. Hiding his smile, he decided that even if she couldn't learn magic, he'd find something for her to do. People like her were always useful if they could be properly trained, or at least pointed in the right direction.

Staying seated, he waited for more to show up, studying them, noting who was impatient, who was fearful, who paid attention to what was going on around them, and who stared dumbly at the ground. Several minutes passed and more young people came up alone, in pairs and in small groups. None of them spoke to him, they'd heard the stories, heard how he'd fought the demons, it gave him an aura of strength and menace.

When there were a little over thirty young people standing, sitting and kneeling before him, he rose to his feet.

“I am Mage Keira, formerly Master Keir of the Necromantic College,” he said. “In the last battle against the demons, necromancy proved itself against the horde, allowing our forces to prevail. However, while I am very powerful, I cannot be everywhere at once, and one man cannot fight an army alone. I am offering some of you a chance to learn necromancy under my tutelage.”

He paused, letting his words sink in. A few of the children turned pale, but none left. Satisfied, he continued with his speech.

“If I choose you as a student, it will not be easy. We don't have the time to try gentle methods. You will learn even if I have to beat the spells into your head. By spring, all of you will know enough spells to march with the army and support it in battle. If you don't believe you can handle that, leave now.”

Again he paused, this time a handful of children left. He nodded in satisfaction, they'd mostly come from the scared and uninterested groups.

“Good. Make three lines of ten, youngest in front,” he ordered.

The group quickly got to their feet and sorted themselves out. The girl who was caring for family, handed the baby to her siblings and made them sit off at the side. The lame boy struggled to get to his feet, keeping his head bowed as he got into line.

Altering his sight to see magic, Keir studied the first row of potential students. The magic that ran through their bodies shone brightly, hiding their physical form. Most of them shone with a dull yellow light, showing they had neutral magic. It was the most common, and could be easily shaped and woven to fit any type of spell.

Two children, the smallest ones, surprised him. The magic of the boy and girl was filled with black flecks, that moved lazily through them, flowing like blood through their bodies. The children were attuned to death, he had seldom seen it in his own time. Finding two of them in such a small group was practically unheard of. While young children's magic would sometimes attune to the magical energy around them, it was usually life magic, or something they interacted with, like a smith's child attuning to fire or metal, or a fisherman's child connecting to water. Death was usually not common enough.

He shook his head at his foolishness. While in his day, death on a large enough scale to affect children was uncommon outside of famines or a plague, now  they were surrounded by it. Looking at the sky, he realized that the air was tinged black with the dark magic.

“Well this will make things easier,” he muttered. Pointing at the two children, who looked to be brother and sister, he said, “You're chosen. Stand off to the side.”

Looking at the rest of the line, he picked two more children who glowed particularly brightly with magic. The six remaining children were sent away, and he turned his attention to the next row.

One girl who had just started to become a woman, showed signs of death magic. Despite that, her magic was small, barely glowing at all. Frowning he passed her by. Only one child from the second row had enough magic to be worth his while. The boy was sent to join the first four.

The third line had four teenagers in it. The first girl was particularly bright, but her magic was the brilliant green of life. While he'd love to teach someone with her level of power, the life magic would interfere with necromancy.

“Go find Sister Kaja and tell her the priesthood is to start teaching you healing spells,” he told her. “Tell her that Mage Keira insists on it.”

“But-” she started to say.

“If you study you'll be a powerful healer. But no matter how hard you try, you'll be a horrible necromancer. You should have already been tested and turned into a student,” he said. “Now go, if they don't accept you, let me know and I'll deal with it.”

She bowed her head then walked away, hopefully to find the priestess.

The lame boy was next. His magic was middling. He'd make a decent student for a regular teacher, but he didn't need decent, he needed the powerful.

The third potential student had what looked like red flames dancing through his magic. Keir told him to join the other chosen immediately, fire and necromancy could do some interesting things together.

The last one was the girl with the family. There was a hint of blackness running through her, she was starting to become attuned to death. She wasn't very powerful, but combined with her obvious anger and being attuned, she was worth training.

Cancelling his magic sight, he looked her up and down. She was well tanned and solidly built despite the signs of hunger and malnutrition, probably a farmers daughter. Her dark eyes met his, challenging him. He could definitely use her, but he needed her to focus.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. “I don't need a mother.”

“I'm not their mother, I'm their sister. And I can do anything you need,” she replied. Her voice was soft, but there was steel in it.

“I doubt that. I'm going to have you training from dawn until well into the night. You can't be my student and care for your siblings at the same time. Will you just cast them aside?”

She glared at him. “I can do both if I need to.”

He sneered. “You think it will be that easy? If you somehow manage to get through my training, you'll be marching to war. Do you think you can fight while caring for a baby?”

“I'll find someone to watch them. If it means I can kill the demons, I'll do anything I have to.

“Adria,” he motioned the old maid to come over. “This girls siblings are under your care. See that they're fed and clothed.”

“Yes, Regua,” the old woman said.

“What's your name, girl?”

“Katalia Del Campo,” the girl said.

“When you answer me, you will address me as Mas- Mistress. You're now my student until I decide you are done training, or you've proven yourself useless. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Mistress,” Katalia said.

“Good. As long as you are my student I'll ensure your siblings are cared for, now go join the others,” he said.

She nodded, took a moment to look at her brother and sisters, then joined his new students.

Looking at the lame boy he hadn't chosen, he said, “You can go.”

“Regua!” the boy said. “Please teach me.”

“You aren't strong enough to be worth my time,” Keir said.

“I can learn.”

“I'm sure you can, but I don't have time to teach someone who will merely be an average mage.” Turning away from the boy he walked over to his chosen students.

“Regua, I don't need much help. Just let me listen while you teach the others and I'll learn without asking a single question.”

Keir turned around to study him. The boy was wearing the red leather pants and pleated cotton shirt he'd seen the Lleial soldiers wearing. He was well built, except for his right leg which was atrophied and bent slightly at the knee. The scars on his hands showed he had been in fights before, and he held himself like a fighter.

“What happened to your leg?” he asked.

“I was scouting, looking for a safe route here, when brigands attacked. In the fight my horse was killed and crushed my leg,” he said.

“So you know how to follow orders and focus?”

“Yes, Regua.”

He pretended to think things over, but his mind was already made up. If the young man was telling the truth he could be useful. The leg would keep him from the front lines, but raising the dead to fight and directing them from a distance would be well within his capabilities.

“What's your name, boy?” he asked.

“Blau of the 10th Lancers.”

“You have one week to impress me, Blau. Get in line.”

“Thank you, Regua,” the young man said.

“You'll call me Mistress, just like the others,” he said.

“Yes, Mistress,” he corrected himself.

Looking over his eight students, Keir gave them a very small smile. They all had potential, he just had to make sure they reached it. He remembered his early days before the Necromantic College had been created, teaching a handful of students in an old barn. That had been an interesting time, hungry and cold, but interesting.

“Tomorrow morning at dawn we will begin your first lesson. I'll have uniforms for you to wear and if you need it, lodgings. Breakfast and supper will be provided to you,” he told them. This made the younger students grin. They weren't starving but most of them were painfully thin, and all of them were wearing clothes that were little better than rags.

“Today you will tell your family or friends that you are my students, and that you will be studying from sunrise until well past sunset for the next several months. You can stay with them at night, or you can stay at the school I'll be setting up.”

Waving his hands he wove eight ghosts into existence. They were simplistic things, shadowy figures with no real features, wearing white robes that had once been worn by instructors at his necromantic college. They silently floated over to the student, each one taking a place beside a child.

“These are your spirits. They'll act as a guardian and will guide you to the school tomorrow. As you learn you'll be able to control them, giving them new duties, changing their features, making them intelligent, and other things.”

He didn't bother telling them that he could watch each student through the ghosts eyes. It was a way to ensure they would practice properly, and wouldn't attack others without a good reason. He didn't want to explain why one of his students murdered a person or stole something, this was one way to catch a potential problem early on.

“Are there any questions?” he asked.

There was a mix of no's and shaking of heads.

“I want to hear, no, Mistress,” he said.

“No, Mistress,” his students said.

“Very well. I'll see you tomorrow at dawn, get a good night sleep tonight.”

The children mostly all headed in the same direction, nervously looking at their new ghosts, and talking with each other. Keir wondered what their parents would say when they told them the news. Katalia didn't follow the group, she went over to her siblings, who were sitting with his maids who had made themselves comfortable on a large rock. He walked over as well.

“Adria, can you find a room in the keep for them?” he asked.

The old woman nodded. “I should be able to. They're talking about moving some of the people in there, I can get them a small room before they get everything settled.”

“Good. I'll leave it in your hands then.”

“Elia,” he said to his second maid, “I need you to take me to whoever is in charge of the Lleial here in the camp. It's time I talk with your people.”

Following the teenager along the muddy path between the tents and shacks, Keir couldn't help but smile. Things were finally getting interesting.

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

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, look at background info, see snippets of potential stories, and have a chance to choose what I write next, you can support me on my Patreon page.

The Lleial part of the camp was set apart from the rest and farthest from the keep. Unlike the other camp, which was a mix of tents, lean-tos and shacks, there were only leather tents here. Most of them were old, ragged and heavily patched, runes, symbols and pictures in faded paint gave a hint of what they had looked like in better times. 

Following his maid Elia through the rows of tents, Keir found himself the center of attention. People stopped what they were doing, running to get others, or rushing over to be closer to him. Those who were healthy, helped the sick, injured and crippled out of their tents so they could see him. All of them knelt as he walked past, children were hushed and made to kneel, while babies were held up so he could touch their heads. 

For a moment he wanted to tell them to get off their knees, to tell them he wasn't a holy figure. But as a frail mother held up a newborn that was far too thin and wrapped in rags, her eyes full of hope, he realized he couldn't, not yet. Telling them the truth, forcing them to see it, it would break them. All they had left was hope. 

He couldn't take it away from them. 

Smiling he placed a hand on the child's head. The child's thick hair was greasy, and it felt like something was crawling in it, taking a closer look he saw it was thick with lice, as was the mothers. Peering down the path the children fidgeted, many were scratching their hair, as were some adults. The camp had to be crawling with parasites. 

Drawing in some magic, he wove a basic spell of necromantic cleansing, focusing on making it as large as possible. Casting the spell he felt countless parasites, bugs and worms die all around him. Looking at the baby's hair the lice had stopped moving. 

The people wouldn't know what had happened until they realized the lice and pests that plagued them were dead, and that might not happen until the bites and rashes went away. That was fine with him. There was no need to be praised for his every action, he simply needed the people healthy for the war. He'd need to regularly walk around the camp casting the spell as he went to keep the pests from coming back. 

Continuing on his way, he made sure to touch each babe and child that was held out to him. It only slowed him down a little and the hope it gave the people was well worth the effort. 

Finally arriving at the largest tent, which was shaped like a large dome capable of holding at least two dozen people, Keir saw a welcoming party waiting for him. An old man, balding, with a short, well groomed beard, knelt at the opening, back straight, his face grim, looked up at him, a sword rested on his knees. Behind him were four soldiers, two woman and two men, they were kneeling as well, heads bowed preventing him from seeing their faces. From the many bandages that covered them, they had fought hard against the demons. 

“Regua, you honour us with your presence. I am Jan, Chief Elder of the 6th Cuirassiers, as the eldest of the council I welcome you to our tent,” the old man said, bowing his head in greeting. 

“It is good to meet you Jan, we have much to discuss,” Keir replied. 

“We do. But first I would like to return your sword to you,” Jan said, picking up the sword that had been given to Keir before the battle, and holding it out for him. “You used it well, and honoured our people.” 

Taking the sword, he smiled in thanks, then held it at his side, since he didn't have a belt to hang it from. He wished he remembered more of the battle so he could have something insightful to say, instead he went with empty platitudes. Pitching his voice so everyone nearby would hear him, he said, “Your people brought honour to themselves by fighting so hard against the demons. Without your soldiers the battle would have been lost.” 

The audience reacted as he had hoped. There were gasps and mutterings he couldn't quite make out, from the corner of his eyes, he saw people smiling, their backs straightening, a few nervously glanced around to make sure they'd heard him correctly. 

“You are too kind, Regua. We simply did our duty. If it isn't too bold, I'd like to introduce you to four of the soldiers who went into the field with you, helping you fight against the demons as you charged into the horde.”  

The four soldiers raised their heads. He recognized one of the women, the facial scar made her hard to forget, she'd given him the sword before the main battle. The other three he vaguely remembered, just flashes of memory surrounded by a feeling of rage. 

He broadened his smile. “If I recall correctly, you are Lieutenant Floria, of the 3rd Hussars,” he said, looking at the woman. 

She somehow managed to look prouder. “Yes, Regua, you honour me by remembering my name.” 

“Sergeant Pol of the 10th Lancers, Private Biel of the 1st Cuirassiers, and Private Sofia of the 6th Cuirassiers, are under her command, they fought by her side, showing great bravery and loyalty,” Jan said, motioning to the three soldiers in turn. 

Keir nodded to both of them. “Thank you for the help. I remember seeing you all in the battle, you did very well.” 

Jan's grim expression lightened a touch at his words. “Regua, we see that you do not have an honour guard. It is our duty to see to your protection. While we cannot give you the hundreds of men you deserve, we hope you will accept these four as your personal guards. They have proven themselves in battle, and while young are some of our greatest warriors.” 

“I'd be honoured to have them at my back.”

The crowd didn't cheer, but they wanted to. Keir could feel the energy coming off of them, it was almost a physical force. He'd felt it many times as emperor, it was good to experience it again. 

Jan and the soldiers rose to their feet. Floria and her men moved to stand behind him, falling in beside the two ghostly soldiers that stood silent as the grave watching for danger. The old man stepped into the tent, holding the leather flap open for him. Going into the dark tent, Keir welcomed the warmth, after cool mountain air. A small fire was lit in the center of the tent, a bronze incense burner hung above it, filling the air with a pleasant scent. Two people, almost as old as Jan rose to their feet, heads bowed. 

“These are the other surviving Elders, Regua. Lidia of the 10th Lancers, and Mateu of the 1st Cuirassiers.”

Keir now recognized the power structure of the Lleial. Each of his maids came from one of the three clans, as did three members of his new body guard. Only Lieutenant Floria was from a different clan, and hers wasn't represented among the elders. The Lleial may be loyal to him, but they were clearly doing everything possible to make sure there was some type of balance between the three, even if Jan had an edge either in age or influence. Why was Floria the outlier? 

He'd need to learn more if he wanted to properly use them. 

“It is good to meet you all,” he said. 

“Please sit,” Jan said, motioning to some cushions around the fire. 

Taking his seat, the elders followed suit. A young woman came over carrying a platter with four silver cups for each of them. Keir took a sip and forced himself to smile at the overly sweet wine. A small silver tray of dried fruit and meat was placed at his side. 

“It is good to see you accepted so many Lleial children into your new school,” Jan said. 

“I accepted those with enough magic to be useful. I did not purposefully choose one group over another,” Keir said. He needed the Lleial support, but he couldn't have them thinking he would favour them simply because of who they were. He wanted them to work for his favour. 

“Of course, Regua,” Lidia said, her necklaces clinking together as she nodded. “We will of course make sure they learn everything you require. It is their duty as well as ours.” 

“I'm glad to hear it, because I will need your help.” 

“Anything you need, we will provide.” 

“I will need a mage who can teach the students how to see and weave magic. I have many duties to attend to, I don't have time to teach the basics, especially this close to winter. Once they've learned how to weave magic, I will take over their studies in the necromantic arts,” he said. 

Mateu, who had speared a piece of apple with a hook in place of his right hand, said, “My brother is a skilled mage, he is too old for the battlefield, but he can still teach.” 

The other two Elders looked less than pleased at the sudden offer, but none spoke against it. The rivalry could be useful, but he'd need to make sure it didn't go much beyond this. “Very good. The lessons will begin at dawn, I'll expect him there beforehand so we can discuss things.” 

“I'll make sure he's there on time.” 

“I also need some people to help with the tent for lessons. I'll create the shadow cloth, but I'll need someone to shape it into a proper tent like this one, and set it up.” 

Jan spoke before the others. “Of course. We'll have a group ready for you this afternoon.” 

“Good. Now, I have not discussed the school with anyone else, and I am not sure how supplies are handled, I'll be doing that later today. But I may need you to provide food for the students, a simple breakfast and supper.” 

The three Elders frowned, and he heard his body guards shift uneasily behind him. “We will do what we can,” Jan said. 

“Are there problems I should know about?” 

“The dogs are happy to send our people to die, they aren't so happy about sharing what they have,” Mateu said.

Lidia motioned for the man to calm down. “We have had some problems getting our share of the rations and medicine. They have largely been dealt with, but sometimes they need to be reminded that we are currently their allies.” 

“I see,” Keir said. He truly did, with supplies in short supply those in control of them would want to provide for their people first. Unfortunately that wouldn't work when they needed everyone working together. “I'll be talking to General Ajani today, I'll do what I can to help smooth things out.”

“Regua, when do you plan to begin the offensive against the Demons?” Jan asked. 

“That is one of the things I'll be talking to the general about. I would like to get more supplies, find any refugees, towns or villages nearby that are still holding out and bring them here for the winter. Once the snow falls, we won't be able to move before the spring. We can use the time to train people into a proper army. And the students will be able to at least raise some warriors by then.” 

They nodded in agreement. “The Demons don't move much during the winter, preferring to pick off supply parties and only attack if they detect weakness. We'll have a little bit of respite, if we can get enough supplies,” Jan said. 

“The city of Koder will have supplies. I've pushed the general to send out a force to gather what they can, but they haven't listened,” Mateu grumbled. 

“Koder is still holding out?” Keir asked. It had been a large town when he'd been alive. He'd used it as a getaway and a place to practice the magical arts away from prying eyes. 

“It was destroyed six months ago. But the Demons only kill and eat meat. Weapons, buildings, grain and vegetables, are left to rot. If we can reach the city, we could load our wagons and horses with as much as they can carry and survive the winter.” 

“If, is a very important word,” Lidia said. “If we sent a hundred men at dawn, we might have ten return by nightfall.” 

“We would have a chance, better than starving.” 

Keir held up his hands, silencing the impending argument. “How did the Demons destroy the city? They are terrifying, but we defeated thousands of them in the battle. Against proper walls and defenses, how could they win?” 

Mateu grimaced. “We were fighting their scraps, and we would have lost anyways if they hadn't decided to retreat. Against a true horde, they are almost unstoppable.” 

“Do you know why they stopped attacking us?” 

“You,” Jan said. “You surprised them. They don't understand your magic, so they pulled back. Whenever they have met a new threat that they can't easily defeat, they retreat and begin scouting, trying to learn more. While they do that, stronger demons are called to the area, until they have hundreds of thousands of their kind. Sometimes they'll have new types of demons made to counter the threat. When they are ready, they'll attack and destroy it.” 

Dread filled Keir, he felt cold despite the warm fire. “So we have the winter to prepare and then we'll be facing an army of monsters that outnumbers us a thousand to one.” 

They nodded. Shifting uneasily on their cushions, looking away to hide the fear in their eyes.

For the first time since coming back to life, Keir truly understood the grim hopelessness that hung over the camp. 

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

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, look at background info, see snippets of potential stories, and have a chance to choose what I write next, you can support me on my Patreon page.

General Ajani didn't look quite so tense as he had the first time Keir had met him. The tall man looked like he hadn't had a good nights sleep in ages, but he didn't look like a man facing execution anymore. He did look rather curious about the four Lleial soldiers and the two ghostly soldiers who were standing ramrod straight beside the door, yet he didn't say anything.

“Mage Keira, it's good to see you on your feet. I was told it was touch and go for a few hours,” the general said.

“Your healers are quite good at their work. I'd like to avoid any fighting as strenuous as the last battle for a week or two, but I'm ready to do my part to defeat the demons,” Keir replied.

“Have you had lunch?”

“I had a little to eat with the Lleial elders while we discussed potential plans and strategies, but wouldn't say no to a light meal.”

General Ajani paused at the mention of the Lleial elders. “Lieutenant Labardi, tell the kitchen we need something light for lunch, including Mage Keira's associates.”

“Yes, sir,” the one armed officer said.

Opening the door to his office, General Ajani motioned for Kier to enter. “Your associates can wait out here, my aide will make sure they get what they need.”

“Of course,” he said, eyeing his bodyguards to see if they'd try to follow him. The four just stayed where they were, motionless as statues. He nodded and gave them a small smile for their professionalism.

Stepping into the office, he took a seat across from the general. Papers, most of them written in sloppy handwriting, with what looked like charcoal rather than ink, were piled high on the desk. It looked like they were in several different languages, which would make going through them a hellish venture.

“I need to thank you for your assistance in the battle. If it wasn't for you we would have been overrun,” General Ajani said.

He nodded, accepting the thanks. “I'm not used to fighting in the front-lines like that, but I'm glad I could be of service. Hopefully next time it won't be quite such a near thing.”

“I hope so as well, which is why I'm meeting you now. I need to know what you can do to help us survive, so we have a proper plan when they hit us again.”

Keir allowed himself a genuine smile. He loved working with professionals. “I'm told we should be free of any large scale attacks over the winter, but come spring we'll be facing several hundred thousand demons. Is that accurate?”

“Yes, that's how they fight. Five years ago when the demons first attacked the South through the Dar Isthmus, they were pushed back by a new type of fire weapon. It clung to their skin and couldn't be extinguished. We held them there for two years, then they came in the millions, by land, sea and air. They used their flying demons to cut off supplies to the isthmus. When we were weak from hunger, they attacked with a new type of demon that was covered in a thick slime. The fire couldn't burn them, and they spit the same slime to extinguish the fires before they could kill more than a handful of demons. The South is now wiped clean of humans. They'll do the same here.”

“If the situation is so hopeless, why are you here?” Keir asked.

The man laughed. It wasn't a pleasant laugh. “Because I'm too stubborn to die without taking as many of them with me as possible. I came north to discuss strategies and trade for new weapons that could help Khabir survive. Then I learned my family was killed and Dhahabi, the last coastal city was in ruins. With no way to return home, I offered my services to whoever would have me. I helped hold the demons back for six months at the Bijel River. Defended the survivors of Bogat as they fled into the Sal Mountains, then marched back into the hell of the Zelena Forests. Somehow, I eventually ended up here, with nowhere else to go.”

Placing his elbows on the desk, Keir leaned forward looking the general in the eyes. “I need to know, are you willing to fight to survive, or are you simply fighting to die honourably surrounded by a mountain of dead?”

“My death is a foregone conclusion,” the man said, his voice low, “but I'll fight to my last breath to give the people under me a chance to survive. Tell me what you can do, and if it seems like there is even a chance of success I swear to Nynner the Shield Bearer, to support you with all my power.”

“Good enough. First we need to go to Kodor. The ruins will have supplies we need, and there are some items there I need to retrieve.”

“I've been wanting to go there for the last three months, it's not that easy. Scouts say its crawling with demons.”

“Give me two weeks and we'll have a true army of the dead ready to defend the pass, as well as another army of ghosts and banshees to travel with us.”

The general nodded. “Very well, I'll start preparing soldiers, carts and horses for the expedition. We'll leave when you have the undead forces ready. Now what do you think we can do about the demons that will be coming to kill us all?”

“We need to give them more targets, keep them dispersed, hit them while they're in small numbers. With the bodies we're sure to find in Kodor, I'll create raiding groups. I can link a hundred or so skeletons and zombies to a semi-intelligent ghost. The ghost will scout for demons, lead the dead to them and guide them in the fight. If they need to, the ghosts can call to each other joining their dead into a large group until they have enough to destroy the demons. I used to do something like it in areas that were far from most villages and towns, where I needed to keep control but didn't want to use living soldiers.”

“If you spread them out far enough the demons won't be as focused on this area. I like it.” The general tapped his fingers on the desk, before asking, “Could you create some ghosts or fast moving dead that will follow my scouts?”

“Of course,” Keir said. “They work best with someone living to lead them.”

“I know there are refugees hiding in the hills and forest in the region. Small groups that keep moving can usually avoid the demons for at least a few months. Some of our scouts got in touch with a few of these groups before the demons cut us off. I'd like to bring as many of them here as possible, we need the workers and soldiers.”

“We're on the same page, general. I was going to recommend the same thing. If you have the scouts ready we can send them off tomorrow morning.”

“I'll have thirty scouts ready at dawn. The sooner we get the refugees here the better. When can you start creating dead in large numbers?”

Keir considered the question carefully. He needed to push himself not only to survive the demons, but to strengthen his position. Leaving himself exhausted however, would lead to him making a mistake, and that would ultimately get him killed. “I can raise five hundred skeletons and zombies tomorrow, and five hundred everyday after as long as I have the material. But I'll mix in several dozen flesh golems, ghouls, ghosts, banshees, and spectral warriors when I raise them.”

“What can the ghouls, banshees and spectral warriors do? I've read about your campaigns, but I focused on the movements and logistics, not the dead you created. I didn't think I'd ever see them, much less use them in battle,” the general said, giving him a bemused smile.

“Ghouls are improved zombies. They're smarter, faster and stronger than the typical dead. I typically used them to guide zombies and skeletons into situations where sending a human would be suicidal or a waste of resources. Banshees are much like ghosts, able to fly and generally intangible. But they can create a shriek that stuns an enemy from several yards away. If they work together or use all of their magical energy they can shatter stone. The spectral warriors are ghosts as well, but they're attached to something physical, usually a weapon and armour. They don't use as much energy to fight as ghosts do, so they last longer,” he explained. If General Ajani had been a mage, he would have gone into detail about the different magical weaves, how ghosts used a large amount of energy to become solid, and other details, but for now it was best to keep things simple.

“We have an armoury full of old weapons and armour that are outdated. We're using some of them but most are too worn out to use. Would they work for your spectral soldiers?”

“Perfectly,” he said, grinning savagely. “The magic will make them usable again, and the spectres will do any maintenance necessary after they're created. If they've been used in the past they'll be even better. The ghosts will take some of the energy from the weapons, using it to form an ideal body. It's how I created my dread knights. Armour and barding that was too badly damaged to reuse, formed the base of the spectre. Most were simply more skilled than regular ghosts, but a few seemed to pick up the emotions and mannerism of the former owners.”

The general wrote some notes on a clean piece of paper. “I'll have a work crew go through the old armoury and storage rooms, and start cleaning them out. I don't think we have much barding, would old saddles and tack work for creating spectral cavalry?”

“It will.”

“With your dead, I can finally start properly training the soldiers I have. By the time spring is here, we'll have something capable of at least hurting the demons.”

“Hurting the demons isn't enough for me,” Keir said. “I've learned that merely hurting the enemy isn't good enough. They have to be crushed so they can never attack again.”

General Ajani took a crystal bottle full of an amber liquid and two small glasses. Filling the glasses he placed one of them in front of Keir. “This is one of the last surviving bottles of rum from the Alsukar region, the finest you'll ever have. I think it's appropriate I share it with you. It's been years since anyone has talked like you, hurting the demons has been the best most of us can hope for.”

Taking the glass, Keir sniffed it, getting a pleasant smoky, caramel aroma from it. If the customs of the South hadn't changed in three hundred years, he needed to say something special. “Thank you, Ajani. This won't be the last rum Alsukar makes, we'll take the land back and send all the demons straight to hell while doing it.”

They tapped the glasses on the table, and took a sip. The flavour was exquisite and smooth. The alcohol made him feel lightheaded.

“This is very good,” he said.

“The best. Do you have any other ideas?” Ajani asked.

“Not off hand. We'll need to see what supplies we can get from Kodor, what we have to work with in general, and how the men handle working with the dead. I'm sure we'll both think of things we can be doing in the next few weeks. But I need something from you.”

Ajani raised his eyebrow in question.

“I'm starting a school for necromancers. I have eight students and one teacher. Starting tomorrow at dawn, I need to make sure they have a breakfast and supper. A few other supplies like paper, pens, tables and benches would be helpful.”

“I'll make sure you have them. Do you want a stove, clothes or anything else? It's going to get cold soon.”

“No. I'll give them robes. As they learn magic they'll learn how to keep themselves warm or freeze.”

The general nodded, sipping his drink. “About going to Kodor, you said there were items you needed to retrieve, what are they?”

“My research notes,” Keir answered. “Kodor was where I did much of my research that most people would have frowned upon. If I can get them, I'll save myself weeks or months of research to create some truly interesting weapons of war.”

“It's been three hundred years, and the Eldritch Council has spent the entire time collecting and destroying your notes and research. How do you know they're still there?”

Keir grinned. “Because if they'd discovered my lab and read my notes, they would have destroyed my Heart.”

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

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, look at background info, see snippets of potential stories, and have a chance to choose what I write next, you can support me on my Patreon page.

After a long discussion with General Ajani, Keir had been feeling quite happy with the day. It had been productive, a little terrifying at the thought of facing hundreds of thousands of demons, but there was reason to hope they'd survive and even push back the monsters in the coming year. And now his good mood was rapidly being ruined by stupidity, arrogance, and shortsightedness. 

“High Commander Alder is too busy to see you today,” the well dressed aide said, staring down his nose at Keir. The man hadn't even provided his name when asked, to show his disdain. 

“Then we can set up a time to meet tomorrow,” Keir said, doing his best to keep his pleasant and congenial mask in place.

That wasn't the easiest thing to do. The two guards on either side of the door were openly leering at him. In his previous body, Keir had had many women coyly eye him, and a few had openly admired him either for his muscular body or the power he held. In his new female body, the attention was far less appealing. He could sense his bodyguard's increasing anger as the guards eyes mentally undressed him.  

“That is not possible,” the man said.

“Why?” he asked, wishing not for the first time, or even the hundredth time that his voice was deeper. 

“There is nothing for you to discuss with the High Commander. If you have any suggestions you may tell General Ajani, if he has time. He can bring it to the High Commander's attention,” the man said, speaking slowly as if to a small and rather slow child. 

“Is Alder so incompetent, or simply so cowardly, he will avoid talking to someone who spent over thirty years ruling an empire and is offering to assist him as an advisor?” 

“Many things have changed from your time, Keira. And the High Commander does not require help from a fallen, murderous despot that is now a tool for the Eldritch Council.” 

Steel hissed on leather. Without looking he knew his Lleial bodyguards had drawn their swords. There was also a metallic click, letting him know at least one of them had decided to pull out their pistol and was making a point that they were ready to start shooting over the insult.

The two guards raised their rifles, sweat beading up on their brows, and the aide turned a pasty white.  

Holding up his hand, but not looking around, Keir said, “Put those away. We are allies, even if some people don't realize it.” 

Much to his relief, his bodyguards obeyed him. The two guards lowered their rifles as well, one of them let out an almost imperceptible sigh of relief. 

Smiling thinly at the aide, Keir raised his head to look the man in the eye. “The Lleial follow me. I have just come from a long and fruitful meeting with General Ajani where we discussed our plans. It would be best if High Commander Alder and I can at least come to a working arrangement. We are allies after all, facing a far stronger enemy. We can either survive together or die from petty squabbling.” 

“Let her in, Justin. I have a few minutes free now,” High Commander Alder said. 

The aide stepped aside, half bowing to an elderly woman, that Keir thought was a high priestess of the Sun and Moon. 

Keir moved to let her past as well. Smiling, he said, “Elder Sister, I'm afraid we haven't been properly introduced. I'd appreciate it if you could spare me a few minutes when you have the time, to discuss things.” 

She nodded. “Of course Mage Keira. I'm not sure when I can fit you in, but I'll make sure to find the time very soon. And I am Sister Tyra, former High Priestess of Koder.” 

“Thank you, Elder Sister Tyra.” 

The high priestess carried on her way, and Keir motioned to his guards to stay in the hallway. Commander Alder led him into the office without a word, while the aide took away a bottle of wine and two goblets. 

“What do you need?” Alder asked, before Keir had even taken a seat. 

“I've been talking to the Lleial Elders. They told me that there have been some problems with sharing supplies, and sorting them out has on occasion been difficult,” Keir explained. “Now that we have time to plan, I think we should look at ways we can ease relations between the Lleial and your people.” 

“I've made sure they get their fair share of food, medicine and clothing. The keep wasn't set up to deal with so many civilians, no one is getting enough of anything.” 

“And you've done an admirable job with what you've had. I understand what it takes to prioritize and make hard decisions in times of need,” He said, stroking the old man's ego. “Now however, General Ajani and I have plans to ensure we have enough food and supplies to last the winter and into the spring. To help keep the peace, having a Lleial liaison that is able to bring any problems quickly to your attention, would be very helpful.”

Alder scowled. “I am always willing to hear from the Lleial elders, they just have to ask for a meeting.” 

“A meeting which can take several days to organize.” 

“We are in desperate times, Keira, priorities must be made.” 

“It's my understanding that the Lleial make up most of your cavalry and scouts. They also form a large minority of your standing army. Do you realize the only reason they have helped is because they were waiting for me to be resurrected?” 

High Commander Alder nodded once, his expression grim. 

Keir smiled. It was time to show he wasn't powerless. “Now that I am once again among the living, they have no reason to stay here. We can leave within a day, and you'll be facing the demons by yourself.” 

“You have your geas, you have to help us,” the old man said. 

“No, I don't. I cannot hurt a human, or order my dead to hurt someone. I must also obey a Blue mage or higher. If the Lleial decide to leave, I can go with them. If Mage Von tries to stop me, I can simply put wax into my ears and place a bag over my head. Or I can create a small army of the dead to block your soldiers and Mage Von, while screaming as loud as they can to drown out any commands as we leave. Or the Lleial can put me in a stupor until we're well away from anyone who can control me. Do you truly think you can survive what's coming without the Lleial soldiers and my magic?” 

Alder glared at him, now realizing just how weak his hand was. “I assume you'll be the liaison for the Lleial?” 

“Oh no, I don't have time for that. The Lleial will obey me, but trying to learn everything they need, understanding the nuances between their groups, and worrying about the details of their daily lives is better left to their leaders. Send a message to their elders saying that you would like a liaison and they'll provide one. I'm simply here to give everything a push, and help smooth things over when possible.” 

“I'll think about your proposal, and if I agree to it I'll send a message. Is there anything else you'd like to discuss?” 

Knowing he'd made his point and Alder would send the message in a day or two, just long enough to make it seem like it was his decision, Keir decided it was best to leave. The old man had had his ego hurt enough, anything else would be rubbing salt into the wound, and Keir would prefer to eventually win the man over. 

“That's everything for today. I understand how busy being in command can be, and I appreciate the time you have given me already. I hope you have a pleasant day High Commander,” he said. 

Alder watched unhappily as Keir got up and left. 

Back in the hallway Keir thought about what to do next. He would like to talk to Von, who seemed to be in charge of the mages, but he still didn't know where the mage could be. The tent for his school should be up by now, and hopefully General Ajani had sent some old benches and tables from the mess already. He could go check to make sure everything was in place, but that would mean a long walk across the camp when he could send one of his maids, guards or a ghost to look over it for him. 

The thought of sending a ghost decided him. Going outside he found a comfortable place to sit away from the work groups and soldiers. Opening himself to the magic, he wove a large spell together, it was similar to how he created ghosts, but took more energy and was more intricate. 

Taking his time, not wanting to push himself, he wove the magic with his mind. Slowly a hundred translucent figures appeared in the air. Their faces were pale and indistinct, they wore black robes that moved in an imaginary wind, skin was stretched taut over long, skeletal hands. Looking at them set off a sense of foreboding. 

Studying his banshees, Keir was pleased with his work. Mentally he commanded them to spread out in groups of five around the area and start looking for demons. If they saw a small or wounded one, they were to kill it. If it was a group, or a large demon they were to return and inform him or an officer. 

They split apart, each group heading in a different direction. 

He saw that most of the work had stopped and he had gotten an audience. Smiling for the crowd, he wove another spell. He had to make guards for the living scouts that would be sent out in the morning, he may as well do it now. 

These were simple ghosts, only two hundred of them. Glancing at the Lleial who stood at his side, he dressed the ghosts in a similar manner, dark brown leather pants, embroidered cotton shirts, carrying pistols and sword. They were each seated on a pitch black horse, with a skull and shield in brilliant white on its flank, the former symbol of his Undying Army.

He took the time to give the ghosts simple personalities, loyal soldiers who would accomplish their mission and use a bit of initiative. When the spell was finished, they raised their right fist to the heart. They were utterly silent. 

“Soldiers,” Keir said, pitching his voice so that all could hear him. “Tomorrow you will join a group of scouts. Your mission will be to find any refugees that are hidden in the forests and mountains, and help them safely return here. You are not expected to fight except as a last resort. But if it comes to a choice of allowing a scout or refugee to die or be injured or sacrificing yourself to slay a demon, you know your duty, protect the living.” 

The ghostly horses each raised a leg, and brought them down as one. Their hooves sparked against the stony ground, the heavy thud echoed through the air. At the same moment each ghost shouted, “PROTECT THE LIVING!”    

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

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, look at background info, see snippets of potential stories, and have a chance to choose what I write next, you can support me on my Patreon page.

Morning came all too quickly.

Keir rolled out of bed, shivering in the cold air, while his maids brought the fire back to life and came with breakfast for himself and his single guard, Floria. He'd tried to explain he didn't need a guard at night, his ghostly guards could do the job without worrying about sleep. The Lleial had refused to allow him to sleep unguarded. He had managed to make them relent somewhat, only one guard would sleep in the room, in front of the door.

The demon meat and pine nut stew, with a slice of bitter bark bread, wasn't much of a breakfast, but it was filling at least. Wrapped in a blanket he considered his bodyguard. The scarred, young woman looked hard. She moved and acted like an old veteran who had seen too many battlefields. Many of the people he had seen had a similar look to them, that or a broken, hopeless air.

“Lieutenant Floria, I'm curious about something,” he said.

She looked up from her meal. “What is it, Regua?”

“The elders and my maids, are all from three groups, clans, family's?”

“Clan is the best word for it.”

He nodded in thanks. “You're from the 3rd Hussars, they don't seem to be represented by anyone except you.”

“My clan is dead. The adults died fighting the demons when they first attacked our home. Except for a few elderly and mothers, only children and young people who weren't trained yet, escaped to other clans. We were accepted, but we don't have any power or influence.”

“How did you get this position then?”

“I led the squad that followed you into the demon horde. I earned the position so they couldn't honourably keep it from me.” She smiled proudly. “And my men refused to accept anyone else as their officer.”

His impression of her went up significantly. To earn that type of loyalty from soldiers was impressive, especially in such a young officer. “I've talked to General Ajani and the Elders, they've told me what they need, but they're looking at things from high up. I want to know what you can tell me, how are the soldiers doing, what do the people in the trenches need?”

She didn't answer right away. Slowly eating her stew, the young lieutenant was clearly putting some thought into his question. “The victory helped. Before we were waiting to die. Most of us were going to kill as many of the demons as possible, but we knew we were walking dead. Now there is hope, and food. What we need most now, is people.

“Among the dogs.” She paused, grimacing in irritation. “Among the other people, many fled the demons before they arrived, or were cut off when they tried to come here for their last stand. They're hiding in the mountains and deep forests. Bringing them here will help, giving us more workers and soldiers. And there are Lleial out there as well.”

“I'd been told most of the Lleial are dead.”

“Many of us are. Still, as our homes fell we fled in every direction, as long as we have our horses we are hard to catch. We can't help most of them yet, they're too far away, too scattered. But the Lleial who  made it here, we did not travel as one large group. Large numbers attract the demons like ticks to a horse. Many of these smaller groups were cut off, they may all be dead, or they could be hiding and moving, keeping ahead of the demons. We've been surrounded by the demons since we arrived. There are likely thousands Lleial trying to make their way through the demons, or staying close, hoping for a miracle. If we can reach them, you'll have an army worthy of the name. That is what we need.”

“I'll make sure my ghosts are on the lookout for any of your people,” he said.

“Thank you, Reguia.”

Finishing his meal, he quickly got dressed, draping the green and white cloak over his shoulders as a final touch against the cold. Stepping out, his bodyguards were waiting for him, Floria took her leave to wash up and get clean clothes, promising to meet them at the school.

The morning was still nearly pitch black, a very faint light in the east promised a bright new day, but it was almost impossible to see his hand in front of his face. His body guards lit two lanterns, allowing them to make their way through the stable yard where the scouts were preparing their horses and supplies. His ghostly scouts were waiting with the patience of the dead for their living companions. Everything seemed to be in order, so he continued on his way.

It was quite a ways to the far side of the camp where his new school was waiting. The camp itself was stirring, a few people were cooking meals or heating water over small fires. Others were already heading off to whatever work they had to do. From the noises coming from the tents and shacks, most people were still asleep, or using the darkness to enjoy some tender moments in what little privacy they could get.

They reached the tent to find three people already there. An old man, Lleial judging from his clothes, that was likely the teacher he'd been promised. The other two were a surprise, the elderly priestess, Sister Kaja was talking to a young woman. As they got closer, he realized the woman, little more than a girl, was the potential student he had turned away the day before because she was attuned to life magic.

“Good morning, Sister Kaja,” he said. Then he turned to the man. “I presume you're Leo of the 1st Cuirassiers.”

“Yes, I am Regua. I am ready to serve in my limited capacity,” Leo said, bowing his head.

“I'm happy to have you, you're brother spoke highly of you. If you could just wait a moment while I talk to Sister Kaja, then we can discuss the days lesson.”

Turning back to the Sister and the girl, who was wearing a plain white dress, he gave them a curious look. “I'm surprised to see you both here. I sent the girl to find you, since her magic is not suited to necromancy.”

“We want to thank you for that, Mage Keira, Lena will make an excellent healer with training. Unfortunately the Church is spread extremely thin right now. Our surviving mages aren't trained to teach students and have too many other duties to deal with,” Sister Kaja explained. “We hope you don't mind if she sits in on your classes, at least for the start to learn how to see and handle magic. Once she has that skill, we can make her an apprentice to a healer.”

“If she is in my school, she will have the same rules and discipline as my students. Is that clear?”

She nodded in agreement. “Of course. Also, Elder Sister Tyra was hoping that I might watch your class. I have some minor talent with magic. If you and Leo, are willing, I may be able to help, especially with the students who aren't Lleial.”

Keir kept his smile. This was a polite way for the Church to ensure he wasn't filling the students heads with forbidden knowledge or treacherous ideas. The thought of being watched rankled, but honestly he wasn't planning on doing anything more radical than teaching basic necromancy. As long as the Church didn't oppose his attempt to defeat the demons, he was more than willing to work with them.

“Of course. So long as you remember Leo and I are in charge, you are more than welcome to watch and help when asked.”

From Leo's expression, he wasn't exactly willing, but he was wise enough to stay quiet.

“Lena, go inside and find a seat. We'll begin class soon,” he said.

She curtsied, “Yes, Mage Keira.”

With a bit of privacy, Keir went over what the class would entail and what he expected the students to learn.

**

The sun had barely risen and it was time for class to begin. The students were in their seats, most of them wearing the simple black robes Keir had made the day before. Their guardian spirits stood silently at the back of the class, waiting for instructions. The children were shivering a little from the cold, which suited him perfectly. It would encourage them to learn magic so they could keep themselves warm. Lena was wearing the white dress of a Church initiate, the wool kept her from freezing, but even she rubbed her arms.

They'd just finished their single bowl of porridge. The older students looked longingly at the empty bowls, wishing for more. Keir actually would have preferred giving them a little more food, unfortunately he didn't have control over the food, and there likely wasn't enough to spare. At least they were fed, that was what really mattered.

It was time to begin. Taking a spot at the makeshift lectern, he looked around the tent. It wasn't much of a classroom but it would work. There was an ancient chalkboard set up behind him, and everyone had paper and charcoal to take notes. As long as the children were willing to learn, they would.

“Good morning. Today you are going to start learning about magic. Elder Leo will handle most of your instructions to begin with, I will take over when you are able to learn the actual spells. We expect you to learn quickly. When winter ends, you will all be expected to help raise the dead into an army. Those of you who are old enough will go to the front lines and help kill the demons. Those who are too young for that, will help teach the next batch of students.”

Most of the students looked nervous. Blau, the lame boy, looked grim, his jaw tense. The angry girl, Katalia, smiled viciously. He kept his stern expression, not allowing even a hint of a smile at their determination.

“Magic is not that hard to learn. Learning how to use it well, that's difficult. Magic surrounds us, it gives you life, it fills the air, the water, the earth, everything. It's why we can cast spells. With the right mindset, we alter it, forcing it to do our will.

“You've all seen your parents cast spells. A song your father always sing at harvest time, that he swears makes the plants grow better. A ritual your mother does when she soothes your injuries, and claims it speeds up healing. A certain motion to calm an animal, or a specific whistle before doing a task. Those are all spells. They're weak, and a wasteful, brute force approach to magic, but they work.”

The students became thoughtful, likely thinking about the dozens of things adults did claiming it was lucky or helpful. He wanted them thinking they could cast spells, it would help with their learning.

“To truly control magic, you can't rely on those methods. You need to learn how to see the magical energy around you, and manipulate it with your gestures, thoughts and words. So the first week of lessons will be learning how to see magic. Anyone who can't alter their sight by the end of two weeks will be removed.” He pointedly looked at the lame boy. “Blau, you have one week to learn.”

The students looked nervously at the older boy, remembering how Keir had said he had one week to impress him. Blau just nodded, his grim look turning to determination.

“After you know how to see magic, you will learn how to weave it. That is the hardest part of learning spells, at first it's like trying to hold air. But it is possible and if necessary we will beat the ability into you. Once you have learned that, I will become your regular instructor. Until then, I expect you all to follow Elder Leo's instructions as if they were my own. Occasionally Sister Kaja will assist Elder Leo, you will show her the respect she deserves as a priestess.

“Are there any questions?” he asked.

The class was silent.

Stepping away from the lectern, he motioned to Leo. “The class is yours.”

Walking to the back of the classroom, he quietly observed the old man. He needed to ensure the man really knew what he was doing.

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

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, look at background info, see snippets of potential stories, and have a chance to choose what I write next, you can support me on my Patreon page.

Class was going well, Elder Leo while not accustomed to teaching a group of students knew what he was doing. The few times Sister Kaja asked to speak, she had provided useful clarifications, especially for the non-Lleial. Watching from the side, with Lieutenant Floria at his back, Keir gave them a smile of encouragement, this might actually work.

A soldier entered the tent, coming to Keir's side. “Mage Von would like to speak to you, at the pass, Mage Keira” he said.

Wrapping his cloak around himself, he motioned towards the exit. “Very well, lead on.”

A horse was waiting for him, being held by his bodyguard, Private Sofia. “If you would wait a few moments, Regua, Sergeant Pol and Private Biel are collecting our horses.”

He heard Lieutenant Floria click her tongue against her cheek. A slight glance showed her scowling, he was fairly certain Sergeant Pol was going to get a lecture in the near future about leaving his position without notifying her. He pretended not to notice anything amiss, he was fairly safe in the camp for now, and this was her duty, not his. He'd let her whip her soldiers into proper bodyguards, and if she couldn't, he'd step in. But she'd have a chance to do it her way first.

When the horses and wayward guards arrived, he mounted his horse, which was slightly bigger than a pony, and headed towards the pass.

The route was different from before. Before it had been almost deserted, full of ruts and holes, and half turned to mud. Now work crews were filling in the worst parts, laying down logs and sticks to cover the mud and provide a firmer road for carts, horses and people. Wagons, some horse drawn, more often pulled by people, were making their way up to the camp, bringing lumber, charcoal, foraged food from the forest, smoked and salted meat and tanned hides.

The increasing activity was a joy to see. But what made him truly smile, was the improved spirits. The workers were attacking their jobs with real energy, the work parties were singing as they heaved logs into position, the wagon drivers were shouting jokes and friendly insults at the people forced to walk and were receiving the same in return. It was a veneer over the horrors they had faced and knew they would face again, but it was real.

Coming to the bottom of the pass, Keir almost didn't recognize it. A few thousand workers, properly fed and motivated could do amazing things.

The fortifications had been reinforced and expanded. There were now at least ten lines of trenches, set up in an arc creating a vicious crossfire for any attackers. Soldiers were being trained to leave one trench line and retreat to the one behind, with proper cover fire and control, working as a team instead of individuals.

Wire and wooden stakes were stretched across no mans land. Teams were digging pits in the dirt, they were a sheer drop from the front and a gentle slope in the back, which would allow soldiers in the trenches to fire on any demons that fell into them. In the distance he saw a team digging what looked like post holes. Following several yards behind, a pair of soldiers were carefully burying something in the holes.

Where the forest had been was now a burned and logged wasteland. Smoke rose from the ruins, preserving the last of the demon hides and meat. A temporary sawmill was turning small hill of fallen trees into lumber. Smaller pieces of wood, too small or weak for lumber, was being turned into charcoal. It would burn hotter and longer than regular wood, and was easier to store for winter.

Once the work was done, this would be a proper fortress, and a good base to work from. Unfortunately they couldn't hide behind walls and trenches, they had to expand. It was the only chance for survival.

They came to a clear field behind the artillery. Von was watching a dozen or so mages practising spells,  slicing, burning, and destroying log targets. The show of strength was impressive. While training soldiers to fire a gun was much simpler and could be done en masse, and artillery could throw their explosive shells farther than most mages could cast spells, the versatility of a mage could be decisive.

“Hello, Von,” Keir called out.

“Good morning, Keir,” the mage replied, walking over to them. He looked tired, his skin was paler than usual and despite the extra food his eyes were sunken in and his cheeks hollow. “Thank you for coming.”

“I've been meaning to talk to you, but it seemed like you were hiding from me.”

The mage grinned, but it seemed strained. “I've been busy. We're trying to come up with a regular repertoire of offensive spells, so we know what to expect when we're fighting side by side. It's been a problem with mages coming from so many different places. Now that we have the time to train, we're using it as best we can. You've been busy as well from what I've been hearing.”

Dismounting, Keir nodded. “I have. We have a lot to do and very little time, so I'm using it as best I can.”

“Two weeks and then we head for Koder. That is going to be a challenge.”

“Koder isn't the problem. The winter offensive will be.”

Von looked at him sharply. “You want to attack the demons in winter?”

“I've mentioned it General Ajani. I don't think he quite understands the scope of my plans however. The dead do not get cold, they don't freeze, and they don't stop until they are destroyed. I'm going to be creating tens of thousands of dead soldiers, they'll spread out throughout the winter slaying any demons they come across. By spring, I plan on having every single demon within five hundred miles of here dead, and any demon in a thousand miles fearing for their lives.”

“You don't think small, do you?”

“If you make large plans, even if you don't fully succeed, you've still gained something useful. The trick is making sure it's realistic and that if it fails you can still recover.”

He nodded, but looked curious. “So why didn't you accept more students to your school?”

“We need competent students immediately. Once I have this batch trained, I can use some of them to teach the basics to a larger class. The two teachers that are teaching the basics also seem competent, I may be able to have a new class starting in two months.”

“The Lleial elder and Sister Kaja are working well together?”

“They seem to be. They're both intelligent and realize what's at stake, so any concerns they might have are being put aside for expediency.”

Keir could tell Von was slowly working his way up to something. The mage seemed to enjoy drawing things out. “You didn't call me down here to discuss the school or my plans for the dead, what are you really concerned about?”

“Commander Alder asked about your geas. Apparently he thought I had you under tighter control.”

“I don't know why he was so concerned. I thought we had a very pleasant discussion about what I can and cannot do, and have come to an understanding,” Keir replied, not bothering to hide his smile.

“Are you going to cause problems?” Von asked. “He opposed resurrecting you, and used every means he had to keep me from doing it, but he commands the loyalty of most of the professional soldiers, and his position makes him a powerful figure in camp.”

“I understand. I worked with many people who would have happily gutted me if they could have succeeded. I have only done what was needed to smooth things out between the Lleial and the rest of the camp. I didn't even push him to make a decision at the moment.”

“But you are thinking of ways to break or get around the geas?”

“Wouldn't you be doing the same in my position?”

“Mage Keir, have you studied the geas in any way?” Von demanded.

Keir scowled as his mouth started moving without his permission or control. “I have studied the wording, and looked over the basic spell.”

“What have you discovered? And can you break it or avoid its affects?”

“You've somehow connected it to my soul, which should be impossible. I don't know if it can be broken. I can however avoid the problem entirely by making sure I can't hear or see any commands from a Blue or higher mage.”

The mage nodded, looking satisfied. “Thank you.”

Sneering at the words, Keir snarled, “You could have simply asked. I'm not going to lie about something so trivial.”

“I needed to be sure.”

“If that's everything, I have important things to do.” Keir didn't mention that a bath was one of the things he'd like to do after being forced to speak like that.

“Actually there is more for you to do. Come with me.”

Following the mage, he took a moment to look back at his bodyguards. If looks alone could have struck Von down, the Lleial would have killed the mage a hundred times over. It was fortunate they hadn't tried to do that. As much as Keir wanted to slaughter the man for commanding him like a dog, it wouldn't be prudent, yet.

So he kept his mouth shut, studying the soldiers and defences as they walked to the edge of the fieldwork. The smell of rot and death filled his nose the closer they got. When they reached their destination he saw a massive pile of bones, mostly demon, but some human ones thrown in as well. Many still had some flesh on them, and around the edges he saw a lake of offal, where organs entrails and rotten meat had been thrown. Off to the side were rows of shallow graves, each one marked with a symbol of the Mother.

“Here is your army,” Von said, gesturing at the materials.

Smiling thinly, Keir said, “Time for your dog to earn its keep.”

Opening himself to the magic, he channeled it first into the bones and then into the offal. The bones knew what they had once been. Several hundred skeletal demons of all types climbed out of the bone pile. They walked and jumped into the rotten flesh, emerging dripping blood, covered in a thick layer of rot.

Silently they formed into four groups of a hundred. Onlookers gasped, many of them throwing up from the gristly sight.

Turning his attention to the graves, he pumped more magic into them. These wouldn't be simple zombies, they would be ghouls, intelligent, strong, and capable of thinking strategically and communicating. In each of their minds, he gave a list of instructions. Kill the demons. If they couldn't kill a group of demons, find reinforcements and then kill them. Conserve their numbers by attacking small groups and individuals. If possible use hit and run tactics and attack when the demons are asleep. Protect any humans they find and tell them how to reach the camp, guard them if necessary.

Eighty ghouls crawled from the grave. Breaking into groups of twenty, they joined the demons, barking orders at them to form ranks.

Finally Keir made ghosts for scouting. Five ghosts went to each group, hovering over the ghouls, waiting for orders.

Silently Keir ordered them to go and do their duty.

Turning to Von, he asked, “Do you require anything else, sir?”

“No. Just do the same tomorrow, and every other day until you run out of bodies,” the mage said, his voice low and dull.

“I shall carry out my duties to the letter, sir.” Turning away from the mage, Keir headed back for his horse. He would ride through the area killing any pests that infested the soldiers and workers, then head back to the camp. He had things to do there.

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

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, look at background info, see snippets of potential stories, and have a chance to choose what I write next, you can support me on my Patreon page.

*Sorry about the delay in posting, there were some technical difficulties. It shouldn't happen again.

Von Asger, one of the last Blue scholar mages of the Eldritch Council west of the Shield Mountains, sat in his tent wishing for a moment of peace.

He could barely remember what peace felt like anymore. In the last decade of war it came in fleeting moments stolen from the fear, pain and fear of combat and preparing to fight. It was found in a few days of morphine induced peace, so he could recover from his wounds. A brief moment in the arms of a woman, or drinking with companions, most of whom were now dead. Most rare of all, peace was a week or two where it seemed a new weapon, a new tactic, a new spell could halt the demons.

Then it was gone and he returned to the fight.

Mother Sun and Father Moon expected their children to stand on their own feet, supporting them with advice, magic, and the priesthood. It was up to each individual to prove they were worthy of  entering the afterlife in their own way. He wondered if the gods knew how hard it was for the mere mortals who stood beneath them.

If he died today, would he be cast back into the world as a failure for not trying hard enough? Or would he be allowed to finally rest among the stars? Maybe he would be considered hopelessly tainted and cast into the Abyss.

His life was full of failure. Moments where if he'd fought harder, been smarter, made the right decision, hundreds, even thousands, of people might still be alive today. And what would The Mother say about his latest action?

If he was going to be damned to the Abyss, it would be for bringing Keir to life.

Yet what choice was there?

The necromancer was the only one who could possibly save what was left of the continent. They were supposedly making wonder weapons across the ocean. Metal ships powered by steam, wagons that could move without horses, artillery pieces that were five times the size of what they had in Erebu, and who knew what else. But they were an ocean away, not here.

His country, Uva Isulana, had once been at the forefront of magic and technology, the jewel of the world. Now it was bled dry of resource and hope, starving under the masses of refugees, huddling behind its fleet, hoping the narrow stretch of ocean between it and the mainland would keep it safe. He hadn't seen it since the start of the war, and hadn't heard from his parents or sisters in four years when the last letter had reached him.

“What choice did I have?” he asked.

'Von, drop whatever you're doing. We need to talk,' Alvis said in his mind.

Thankful for the distraction, he took a moment to get his thoughts in order. 'What do you need Alvis?'

'Did you question the necromancer?'

'Yes. She hasn't found a way to magically break the geas. She hasn't even tried to think of a magical way around it.' He didn't bother to say how the questioning had angered Keir the other day. The look of rage and fury should have looked humorous on such a tiny woman. Yet he had seen her raise an army with a thought, and destroy souls with a touch. For all her apparent good humour, and the strange contrast between her body and her behaviour, Keir had an air of unyielding power that couldn't be hidden.

'What about the report we have from High Commander Alder?'

'Keir could get around the geas in several physical ways, and admitted as such.'

'The Lady is not happy that you didn't use all of the geas.'

Keir didn't have to ask who the Lady was. Lady Thea, first among equals in the Eldritch Council, and the most powerful mage in the world. She was the main reason Keir hadn't been resurrected sooner. She was also the person who had created the Second Alliance and was holding together what was left of humanity on the continent. Without her the defence of Erebu would have crumbled years ago.

'If this plan is to succeed Keir needs some freedom to think and act. We don't know how to use her magic or the dead effectively, turning her into an automaton would be pointless.'

'I know that.' There was a moment of silence, before Alvis continued. 'So do most people, even The Lady, but she hates the thought of using him. Still it's done now, so you have new orders. If anyone asks, the Council supported your plan. I know you've already lied to almost everyone there saying it was agreed to, stick to it. Our diplomats are spreading the word of the Councils victory, doing their best to keep panic from setting in and old fears from taking hold.'

'So I'm not going to be thrown to the wolves?' Von asked, mildly surprised.

'Hardly. If you survive and manage to reach human lands, you'll be declared a hero, at least in public. When spring arrives, try to reach the Uzak Pass, it's the closest route through the Shield Mountains and our forces still control the area around it.'

'That pass is little more than a goat trail, we can't get an army through it, or the refugees.'

'We'll do what we can for the refugees and soldiers, but you and Keir are far more important. Everyone else is expendable.'

'I don't think General Ajani will agree to that.'

'Tell him it's straight from the Alliance High Command.'

Von grimaced at the thought of telling the general that. 'He doesn't obey the Alliance. He has only agreed to support us because we had the soldiers he needed. Now, almost half of the soldiers we have follow him because he's kept them alive this long. The other half are nearly all Lleial, who follow Keir. There are maybe three hundred soldiers left who follow High Commander Alder.'

'It's that bad?'

'Yes,' Von said.

If he was being truthful, it was far worse for the Alliance. Keir was developing a following among the soldiers and the refugees. It was her magic that had saved them. Her displays of power kept building on that hope. She was working with The Mother Church and Elder Sister Tyra. She even had one of the priestess's helping her school of necromancy, so she clearly wasn't a heretic who was going to lead them all to the Abyss. She'd made sure that everyone knew she was sending out her dead to find any refugees hidden in the mountains and highlands. That had everyone talking, hopeful that family and friends could still be saved. To people not used to propaganda and power plays, Keir made it seem like she wasn't really trying to build up a following.

To General Ajani, High Commander Alder, Elder Sister Tyra and Von, it was obvious, and not even very subtle. General Ajani didn't care, he just wanted to kill demons, and Keir was his best chance at doing that. High Commander Alder was too busy trying to keep everything working smoothly to actively stop it, if he even could. The High Commander was good at administration, but he'd spend two decades running the Keep, politics wasn't one of his strengths. Elder Sister Tyra had made her position as a cautious supporter of Keir plain, by having her priestess help at the school.

As for himself, Von supported the Eldritch Council. It had kept the continent relatively peaceful for centuries and had at least slowed the demonic onslaught. But, he knew they weren't always right. How much farther was he willing to stray to win the war?

Alvis interrupted his thoughts. 'Things may change over the winter, but for now that is the plan. You are expected to follow it.'

Sighing, Von nodded. 'I'll work on General Ajani, while we prepare for the spring campaign. How is the rest of the war going?'

'The Kahlaamo royal family and most of the government evacuated Port Isla. That's the last of their mainland territory. They promise to keep fighting from the islands, but those are nothing more than fishing villages. The city has probably already fallen, reports said that riots were out of control.'

'Except for the Merirosvo Confederacy that's the last of the northern countries, isn't it?'

'Yes, the pirates are still around and fighting. Even the demons can't seem to survive in that frozen wasteland.'

'Is there anyone else left on the mainland west of the Shield Mountains?'

'A few holdouts mostly in the mountains and a few small peninsula's. They don't have mages we can contact, so we're mostly going by rumours or very loose ocean connections. The city of Qum is the last place that isn't on the verge of collapse. And they're still alive only because they fortified, poisoned or buried every oasis and well in the Zuha Desert that isn't within sight of the city.'

Burying his head in his hands, Von wondered what his decade long fight had achieved.

'I need to write up my report. Let me know if anything changes,' Alvis said.

'I will,' he replied, suddenly feeling utterly exhausted.

'Hey, cheer up. When you get here in the spring, you'll be a hero.'

He cut the connection.

The ghostly rider moved silently through the trees, its pitch black horse ignoring the roots and stones that would make the terrain treacherous for a living horse.  To either side, barely visible amongst the trees other ghosts travelled in the same direction, alert for demons or humans.

Overhead a host of banshees flew, each one a blot of darkness against the brilliant blue sky. The banshees weren't part of the original group. They had come across each other at dawn, and the banshees for whatever reason, had decided to follow the ghosts.

Living scouts were well behind the ghosts and banshees, taking their horses on an overgrown path, looking for signs of refugees and demons. After a day and a half of searching they'd only found a few demons, which had been quickly killed, gutted and their meat cooked to pad out the rations.

The ghost didn't really care, it had been told to look for humans by its creator. The scouts it followed had told it to kill demons if they saw any. It didn't matter how long it might take, it was loyal and would do its duty. At worst it had a minor irritation that it hadn't yet been able to successfully follow its first command.

The banshees screeched, flying ahead as fast as a horse could gallop. The ghostly rider drew its sword and raced after them. Its fellow riders did the same their ghostly yells filling the air.

Racing over a shallow mountain river, it heard the screams of living humans, and the roar of demons. The banshees screeched again, this time their cries were louder, making the very air seem to shake, drowning out all other noise.

The ghosts riders came together, swords raised, following the banshees into the fray.

They came to a small clearing, next to a rocky cliff. Women and children were climbing up the side of the cliff, using knotted ropes that had to have been put in place beforehand. Men were trying to keep a small pack demons back with spears and bayonet tipped rifles.

The banshees dove out of the air, screeching at the largest four armed demon. The monster threw a mangled body at them before falling to the ground, clutching its ears, whimpering in pain.

The riders tore into the demons, using magical energy to harden their bodies. Fiery hooves crushed bone, swords cut into flesh. The demons struck back, howling in confusion as their claws and teeth struck only air, not realizing they were hurting the ghosts.

Spears and bayonets stabbed into the backs of the monsters. Holding them in place for the ghosts to slaughter.

By the time the scouts arrived, the fight was long over. The two dozen or so refugees were sitting huddled together, staring fearfully at the ghosts who stood well back watching the woods for any new threats. The banshees had flown off, looking for more demons.

“We're here to help. We have food and supplies at our keep, and the demons aren't coming back anytime soon,” the Lleial scout said, getting off his horse.

“Who are you? What are those things?” one of the refugees asked, pointing at the ghosts.

“We're the Undying Army. And those ghosts are going to help us kill the demons,” the scout said with a grin.

___

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

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, look at background info, see snippets of potential stories, and have a chance to choose what I write next, you can support me on my Patreon page.

Keir sat on his horse, grateful for the green cloak that covered him. There'd been a nasty cold snap the day before, there wasn't any snow yet, but it would be coming soon.

The cold didn't stop the work. It was only an hour or so after dawn and the refugee camp was full of activity. Barracks were being set up, as were storehouses to hold supplies, the shacks were no longer enough for the refugees. Over two thousand newcomers from all over the region had arrived in the last two weeks. They'd been found in pairs and small groups, huddling in caves, on cliffs, and in the thickest woods, hiding from demons, struggling to survive. Protected by ghosts they had made their way to safety, where after a few meals and a chance to heal they were put to work or placed into the army.

Now many of them were preparing the wagons for the march to Kodor, where they would hopefully find food and weapons to survive the winter.

His bodyguards were going over their equipment, making sure everything was in order and ensuring they had enough ammunition to hold off a small army. Having fought the demons once, Keir wished they could bring more.

The quartermaster began bellowing orders for the wagons to fall in. This was copied by sergeants and corporals, who brought order to the chaos of soldiers, many of whom were only half trained, and civilian teamsters who had never worked in a proper military formation.

At least the draft animals were manageable. There was a critical lack of horse and oxen, the cavalry having taken nearly all the horses, and the oxen killed by demons. What few they had were desperately needed for the defence works at the base of the pass, and bringing supplies into the camp.

Keir had solved that problem by creating zombie draft animals. Many of the surviving animals were injured, lamed or sick from poor feed. Killing and animating them had been a mercy for the poor beasts and created a tireless work animal. When they'd run out of animal corpses, they'd turned to the thousands of dead demons. Strapping them to the wagons had been an interesting trick, but it worked with enough straps and poles, now they had more than enough beasts of burden to carry tons of supplies.

Now there was one last thing to do.

Raising his hands above his head, Keir wove together several hundred basic ghosts. The onlookers cheered in delight, at the now daily spectacle.

At first the ghosts had been feared. But as more and more refugees reached the camp alive, telling stories of demons being slain by their ghostly guards, feelings had changed. Now most of the refugees and soldiers saw the ghosts and zombies as saviours.

Grinning with delight, Keir set the ghosts to flying in a complicated pattern over the mountain valley. All of the dead soldiers who would travel to Kodor were waiting at the military camp below, these ghosts were almost purely for show.

As the wagons and soldiers left through the large gate guarding the top of the pass, Keir sent the ghosts off to patrol the area. There hadn't been any surviving demons sighted within ten miles of the camp for over a week, it was still best to be careful. The camp was well defended by both living and dead soldiers, but there were likely tens of thousands of demons in the region.

Those demons were the official reason Keir was joining the supply mission. The demons were giving the camp a wide berth after their defeat, they wouldn't be as cautious about the soldiers and wagons marching through their territory. They'd need a steady source of reinforcements and magical defence.

Getting into position just in front of the lead wagon, Keir frowned as Von fell in beside him. He still resented how the mage had used the geas, forcing him to answer some simple questions rather than trusting him. The few times they'd spoken in the days since had been less then pleasant.

“Mage Von,” he said, forcing himself to sound pleasant, something made easier by his soft and airy voice.

“Good morning, Mage Keir. How is your school going?” the mage asked.

“Quite well. All of my students can visualize magic now, to varying degrees, Elder Leo and Sister Kaja are very good teachers.”

There were several moments of silence, which Keir was unwilling to fill.

“I'm glad to hear it. Over the winter if you would like to expand the classes, I can make some of the other Council mages available to you.”

“I'm always willing to accept help from the Council.”

Once again there was silence. “Come the Spring, the Eldritch Council wants us to head east, to the Alliance territory behind the Shield Mountains. They're already proclaiming us heroes for our success here.”

“And what does General Ajani have to say about it? I'm not exactly up to date on current geography.”

“He thinks we'll have trouble reaching a suitable pass to march the refugees and soldiers across. But he agrees that it's our best option, we'll need them for reinforcements and supplies at the very least.”

“Well then, that is what we shall do,” Keir said.

“You usually like to have a say about plans and strategy. You don't have any comments to make now?”

“It makes sense. I can't build a proper army from ruins and whatever survivors we might find hiding in the wild.” He was enjoying seeing Von's discomfort at his basic answers. He wasn't even being purposefully unhelpful, there really wasn't much for him to say. Getting to what was left of civilization made sense, so he had absolutely no reason to oppose it as long as it was possible.

“Fine. I'm glad you agree,” Von said. With a flick of his reins the man took his leave, heading up the caravan to talk to someone else.

Keir made himself grin, acting as if there wasn't anything wrong with the world.

The caravan of nearly fifteen hundred living, made up of soldiers, cavalry, workers and mages, alongside three thousand physical dead and a thousand ghosts made good time. Keir guessed they could cover just over thirty miles by the end of the day. The road to Kodor hadn't been used in several months, grasses and a few small bushes had started to grow on it, and there were some ruts caused by rain, but it was still fairly smooth and the well packed dirt was easy to march on.

There were many signs of fighting and desperate last stands along the way. Cracked and gnawed bones left where the demons had slain and eaten their unlucky prey. Abandoned and broken weapons, often stained with blood, sometimes still held in a desiccated hand. Trees damaged by small explosives, or brought down by demons to capture whatever poor bastard had been hiding in it.

Keir raised skeletons when there were enough bones to use, more often he raised ghosts. He not only poured magic into his creations, but the anger and rage that filled the air around the caravan. The dead picked up the broken weapons and got into line, ready and eager to kill any demon that was foolish enough to show itself.

They passed a few villages and farms, hacked out of the thick pine forest that covered the region. They looked much the same as when he'd last passed through the area three centuries ago. Some of the abandoned farm equipment looked different, and most of the windows had large glass panes on them, something only the rich could afford in his time. But the architecture, the charms and symbols carved into the wood, it was virtually identical.

There weren't many signs of fighting here. The people had fled before the demons reached them, heading for the city or the keep. Even the houses were mostly in good shape. Some had had doors broken down, either by demons or scavengers, other than that however they could be moved into and tidied up within a day.

A little after midday they stopped at one of the larger villages, which had a working water pump. As soldiers lined up to fill their canteens and the animals were given a short break, Keir went to one of the houses that had its door torn down.

It was one of the smaller houses, and it looked to be in poor condition even before being abandoned. The pale blue logs were split and cracked in places, the paint faded almost entirely away, and some of the windows were cracked.

Stepping inside, he saw the body of an old woman. Her throat was slit, seemingly by her own hand judging by the small knife still clutched in her hand. She'd been gutted and half eaten after dying. Looking around the room, he saw a shrine to Mother Sun and Father Moon, a large blood stain lay before it.

He could guess what had happened. She'd been unable or unwilling to leave, when the demons came, she'd prayed for salvation and then ended it before the demons could get her.

A cloth covered book laid on the floor, a foot or two away from the blood stain. Curious, Keir picked it up and looked inside, it was the Creed of The Mother. On the first several pages was a list of names and dates, members of her family going back four hundred years, when they were born and when they died. The last names were for three men, who would be in their twenties now. It didn't say when they died. Above those were several other names, all of whom had died previously, carefully written in simple characters.

One date looked out of place. Beside the name Mira Svoboda and her birthdate sixty-one years ago, was a sloppily written date of her death, done in charcoal rather than ink. It was three months ago.

Carrying the book outside into the clean air, he looked out at the village again. It couldn't have held more than fifty or sixty people who were farmers and trappers. The area wasn't known for its rich farms, they'd grow enough for themselves, selling a little extra to the keep. Trapping furs in summer would earn them hard cash from the city. They would have been prosperous enough to have decent lives, even if they didn't have many luxuries.

And it was all gone.

He knew war was destructive, he'd fought most of his life. But there had always been a point to it. Even the few times he had sacked a city, there was a reason behind it other than simple bloodshed. This village could have provided workers, supplies, soldiers.

All the people the demons killed could have been made useful in some way, even if it was just an example of what happens to rebels and traitors.

He'd seen the refugees and heard the stories. Refugees were always a problem and stories could be exaggerated. Seeing the village, knowing the demons hadn't even bothered to loot it for food or supplies, only coming to kill the last human alive in it, he started to realize what he was fighting and how far he would have to go to win.

Going back into the house, he began reciting a spell, using the words to help weave his magic. The corpse began to writhe and convulse. A high pitched whine, almost a laugh, came from its lips. It's skin turned white, its nails grew long and sharp. It lurched to its feet, a loathsome leer twisted its face into something truly monstrous.

“Go, slay all the demons you see. Make them know terror,” he told the monster.

The monster shrieking with laughter, ran out of the house searching for prey.

His bodyguards watched him, confused and looking a little fearful.

“Regua,” Floria said, “what was that thing?”

“A monster, far more powerful than a zombie or a ghost,” Keir answered.

“Why don't you make more of them?”

“Because they're almost uncontrollable. If I ordered it to fight in a group, by the time it was done not only would the enemy be dead, but it would have slaughtered anyone who got too close to it. When it fights it loses all reason and only thinks of blood.”

“So why did you make it?”

“Because other than us, the only things left here are demons. It can kill as much as it wants until they manage to destroy it, without causing us any problems.” The monster vanished into the forest, he could still hear its laughter. “Come on, lets get something to eat.”

The man didn't know what his name was anymore. Names didn't matter to the demons and weren't necessary for work. Work was all that mattered now, that and living to work another day. If he worked hard he might be allowed to die. If he didn't work, the demons would do far worse things than kill him.

Lifting the meat into a wheelbarrow, he ignored the groan of pain, the pleas for a quick death. He couldn't help the meat. If he tried he would become meat himself.

He wheeled the meat along a path cut in the rock by tens of thousands of feet and wheels, coming to a pit. Carefully he tipped the meat into it. If he wasn't careful he would fall into the pit himself, no one would pull him out, no one would dare.

Humming loudly so he couldn't hear the never ending screams, the clicking of teeth, or the wet slurping sounds that came from the pit, he hurried away to get more meat.

An overseer crawled over to him, it's dozens of long limbs made it look a little like a centipede. “Come,” it hissed.

Putting the wheelbarrow to the side of the path, he followed the demon, keeping his head down. He had to jog to keep up to it, the overseers never slowed to let humans keep up with them. If a human couldn't follow it closely enough, the human would be replaced.

They went into the caverns where the demons lived. Few humans entered it, fewer came out. The tunnels were lit by a glowing slime that covered the walls, the dim light was barely enough to let him see.

Eventually they came to a large, dark cavern. He heard clicking and rattling come from the darkness, a large shadowy shape sat in the middle of the cave. The overseer grabbed him by the back of the neck, pushing him to the ground.

A voice that sounded like spiders skittering across rotten silk came from the shadowy demon. “Answer truthfully. What power brings the dead back to life?”

___

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

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, look at background info, see snippets of potential stories, and have a chance to choose what I write next, you can support me on my Patreon page.

As they got closer to Kodor more and more signs of battle and death could be seen. Civilians and soldiers had fled towards the mountains as the city died, chased by the seemingly endless horde of demons. The column didn't stop at what had once been a popular rest area beside a small lake, the entire area was covered in bones and hastily built barricades of bags, wagons, carriages, logs and anything else the poor bastards could grab.

Keir raised over a thousand simple skeletons from the piles of bones. He could have easily raised three times that number if he'd wanted to push himself. The dead picked up whatever weapons they could find before heading out ahead of the column, clearing the road and the woods of any demons that might be preparing an ambush.

Watching the men and women who made up the column, Keir saw the growing feeling of anger and loss. Passing a scattering of houses, a woman driving a wagon began to cry, her hand went to a locket hanging from her neck, clutching it so hard her hand shook.

A soldier got out of line at a creek where a mangled skeleton with a crushed skull lay surrounded by three smaller demons, a rusted pistol still held in it's hand. The soldier knelt down beside the bones, making the sign of The Father, placed the pistol in his pack and jogged to get back into position, his expression grim.

Several dozen were riding in the wagons, weeping, staring numbly into space, screaming a loved ones name, or muttering to themselves as they rocked back and forth. A handful were tied up, having tried to run, either searching for demons to kill or trying to escape the monsters that haunted their minds. The journey towards their old homes and the graves of their loved ones was too much for them. Back in the Keep they were able to keep their feelings under control, out of sight, out of mind. Now it was overwhelming.

In his time Keir had seen soldiers and civilians afflicted like this, their minds broken by horror. Most of them would be able to follow orders in a few hours. Others would need to be put somewhere safely away from the fighting, hopefully capable of doing useful work. Back in the War of the Dead, he could send such men back to their families with a small stipend and sometimes even land for their service. Now, they needed every hand either holding a gun or a hammer.

He saw some of his ghosts come flying back, giving reports of demons to Colonel Moreno. It was unusual not being the person in charge. Keir couldn't decide if it was more relaxing not having to keep everything in order, or more frustrating that he wasn't at the center of everything. At least he was well protected if demons attacked, being placed in the middle of the column, surrounded by dozens of Lleial, directly behind marching soldiers and ahead of the wagons carrying their own detachment of soldiers,

More and more ruined villages and even towns were popping up as the sun began to set. These had seen heavy fighting, some houses were completely destroyed by artillery, others were burned to the ground, had collapsed walls, or were full of bullet holes. What had once been farmers fields lined the road, they were even more torn up then the buildings. Shell holes, landmines, foxholes, and massive craters had killed whatever crops had once grown there.

If Keir had a few days he could raise another army from the bones that seemed to cover the land.

When they were about two or three hours from the city, the landscape began to change. The plants and trees were almost all dead. Not shattered or trampled by war, but utterly dead as if a spell had sucked the life out of all of them. And among the dead plants were piles and piles of bones and desiccated flesh. Tens of thousands of demons had died here.

There was some fresh flowers and weeds growing through the bones and dead plants, but they were the only sign of life. Even without his magic sight he could see and feel death covering the area like a shroud.

“What happened here?” he asked.

“Gas,” Floria said. “One of the last battles to save the city, they tricked the demons into thinking they were trying to clear an escape route. Then, when they had tens of thousands of demons here they hit them with all the gas they had left in the city.”

“Gas did this?” Keir knew that some gases were poisonous, but he didn't know they could be used as weapons and not on this scale.

“Chlorine gas, mustard gas, phosgene, even something called sarin gas. I scouted this area two days after the battle, it burned my nose just being close to here. They slaughtered the demons, it bought the city maybe an extra three weeks.”

“Is it safe to pass through here?”

She nodded. “It breaks down quickly enough. I've heard that in some places they've used gas attacks and sent out soldiers with gas masks and protective runes a few minutes later. An hour or two later and even unprotected soldiers can go through the area, so long as they avoid holes, the gas stays close to the ground and moves almost like water.”

He tried to picture what it must have been like, the only thing similar to it that he could think of was his grasping death spell. That spell sent tendrils of magic around him, seeking his enemies and draining them of life. Even that spell couldn't match what he saw here, he had to control it, sensing where each tendril was going, ordering it to kill or not, and it couldn't go very far. Too kill on this scale, it made the most horrifying weapons and spells of the War of the Dead look like children's toys.

Before he could think of what to say a ghost came flying to the column from the east. Another one came from the west. Two more flew overhead coming from the rear. Then a dozen came from all directions,

Keir mentally reached out to them, seeing what they had seen. Demons filled his mind, thousands of them coming together to surround the column. The dead he'd sent out to clear the way and guard the column were already fighting dozens of the monsters.

“What is it, Regua?”

“An ambush,” he replied.

Spurring his horse into a trot he hurried up the column to where the officers were already bellowing orders. They could win this battle, but they needed to prepare.

The monster that had once been an old widow and was now undead driven by rage and hatred, crawled through the bushes, heedless of the thorns that tore at its ragged clothes and flesh. It reeked of blood, courtesy of the dozens of demons it had slain. Its white claws were still pristine, they turned the dead grass a silvery white from frost. Its prey moved past it, not realizing what was stalking them.

The demons were moving in a group, the small monsters capered around the larger ones. A massive demon, protected by thick bone and as large as an elephant trampled everything in its path, creating a path for the rest.

Leaping from the bush, the monster grabbed an Imp that was lagging at the back of the group. It squeaked as her claws pierced its throat, freezing its flesh. They were hidden in the thick foliage a moment later.

As the demons looked around, wondering what the noise was and where the child-like demon had gone, the monster bit into its kill. The warm blood made it shiver with delight.

A dark hound came close, growling at the smell of blood. Pushing its head into the bushes, it whined, jerking back missing it's lower jaw. Whimpering howls came from it's throat, it rolled on the ground in agony, slowly dying from blood loss.

Most of the demons reacted by instantly charging into the bushes. The large armoured monstrosity continued on its way, too dull to notice what was going on behind it.

The monster raced through the bushes, leading the demons further into the woods. The small demons quickly left their larger brethren behind, not realizing what was about to happen.

Sliding to a stop, the monster lunged at the demon pack, heedless of their natural weapons. It's claws and teeth sliced through their flesh like water. Every blow broke bone. The demons screamed as they died to a creature, stronger and far more monstrous than they were.

When the larger demons got to the killing ground, all they found were twitching corpses and pieces of half frozen flesh. Searching for the enemy, they never looked up.

Dropping from a crumbling pine tree, the monster landed on the back of the long, sinuous reaper. The demon shrieked, trying to hit it with it's scythe-like limbs. It's skull was pierced and opened by the monsters claws.

A four-armed Brute grabbed the monster before it could run. It's massive hand crushed the monsters arm into paste. The monster didn't care, it raised it's clawed feet and slashed the demons face into ribbons. As the monster dropped to the ground, it's arm hanging uselessly at its side, it shrieked with blood lust. Throwing itself at the throat of the nearest demon, it's savage mind was filled with delight at the sight and taste of blood.

Thousands of screechers darkened the sky. They had come from hundreds of miles around, forming a massive flock of tiny, bloodthirsty demons. They were staying well away from the column, waiting for their land bound brethren to attack. When the humans were focused on the ground attack, they would fly in, taking the prey by surprise and swamping them with bodies. A voice in their minds had told them to kill everyone in column, especially the mages. They would have done so anyways, but the order made it clear that it had to be done quickly, so they would wait and then attack as one.

As they flew to their waiting spot, dozens of strange shapes rose from the trees ahead of them. Then there were hundreds, then over a thousand. Most of the screechers squealed in confusion. The few who had survived the last battle against the humans screeched in fear.

The screechers weren't very smart, but they were obedient. They had to kill all the humans. They didn't know how these humans could fly, or why they were translucent, but they were clearly human shaped, they needed to die.

The air filled with screeches and shrieks as both sides flew at the other.

Among the demons a barely noticed voice told them to hit the ghosts as often as they could. They wouldn't feel the ghosts but enough strikes and the things would vanish.

As the screechers crashed into the ghosts, there was no confusion when their claws passed through the ghosts. They simply flew onwards slashing, biting and even flying through their enemies. The ghosts struck back, striking wings, faces and limbs, looking to disable rather than kill.

Blood fell like rain, and demons hurtled to the ground desperately trying to stay airborne with shredded wings and missing limbs.

The ghosts began to fade, vanishing from existence as their magic was drained from the countless blows, given and received.

By the time the sun had set, the screechers were alone in the sky, victorious but horribly mauled. Where they had been an overwhelming flock, there were a few thousand exhausted and battered demons landing in the trees to sleep and recover.

An army of demons swarmed through the dead forest, following a command to attack the humans soon after dark. They didn't like attacking at night, they were creatures of the day, but the command could not be ignored.

They were the most numerous group of demons. They hadn't been in the last battle, they were fresh, having spent the last several months moving through the region looking for humans, eating what they could find and mating. Many of their numbers were only a month or two old, smaller than the adults but still ready and able to kill.

As They passed over the bones of demons and men. Some sniffed at the bones hoping to get some scrap of meat from them. They recoiled at the harsh smell of gas that seemed to permeate the bones of their kin.

A gnasher opened its enormous mouth to crunch down on a human skeleton. It was a mere baby and was constantly hungry as it rapidly grew to maturity. The bones wouldn't be very nutritious but it would help calm it's hunger.

It squealed as a knife blade pierced the roof of its mouth and entered its brain.

As if it were a signal, skeletons rose from the ground stabbing and clubbing anything near them. The demons roared in surprise at the enemy in their midst, unsure where to turn as many of them were swarmed and brought down.

A Horn Blower, a four legged demon with a long mouth, screamed at a group of skeletons. The sonic boom it created knocked the dead men to the ground, they got up immediately and began attacking another demon. It screamed again, killing several demons with its sonic weapon, the skeletons were again unharmed.

It's simple mind tried to comprehend what was going on when a sword gutted it.

Close by an armoured lizard spat fire at the skeletons attacking it. The intense flame made the skeletons bones crack, but it didn't stop them. As a knife slid between its armoured plates, the Spitfire panicked and let loose a long gout of flame that should incinerate and melt its attackers.

Two of the skeletons fell, their bones too brittle to hold them up. The rest kept stabbing as the dead wood and brush around them caught fire and began to spread.

The demons ahead and behind the ambush fell on the skeletons, ripping them apart, shattering their bones, and crushing them under their feet. But as they destroyed their enemy, the fires caused by their own side spread through the dry, dead wood.

As the last of the skeletons fell the demons fled in every direction, their instinctive fear of fire overriding their orders.

Standing off to the side, Keir watched while barricades were built, stakes were placed into the ground, and trees were felled. Things were going nicely as they prepared for the attack, no one was panicking, and his dead were working tirelessly.

Several ghosts flew over to him. He smiled at the images that flashed through his mind, things were going well. By the time the demons started their attack, there would be even more surprises waiting for them.

The demons were about to find out what it was to fight a true army of the dead.

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

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, look at background info, see snippets of potential stories, and have a chance to choose what I write next, you can support me on my Patreon page.

Keir sat back watching the dead work under direction of living officers, preparing for the coming battle. Most of the living were checking their weapons or resting before the demons arrived. One of the priests was holding a quick service for anyone needing religious support.

Lieutenant Floria was cleaning one of her pistols, her hands going through the motion with an ease that spoke of long practice. Her eyes were scanning the edge of the dead forest, where trees were being pushed down to create a mess of broken sticks and sloppily piled logs that would break ankles and spear the clumsy.

“Are you going to go berserk again, Regua?” the Lleial woman asked.

“Only if I'm about to die,” Keir replied.

“With respect, the stories never spoke of your wild side.”

Keir smiled thinly. “That's because I never absorbed a soul before. I knew it could be done, but I never personally did it until the last battle.”

“But the stories say you would weave spells that stole peoples souls, causing them to instantly die by the hundreds as you gained their strength.”

“I improved a necromantic spell to steal a persons life, not their soul. It was relatively painless, quick, and it took a while before they knew how to defend against it. It also helped replenish my magic somewhat, but it still cost more energy than I regained.”

“So the soul is stronger?”

He nodded. “Much stronger. It's overwhelmingly more powerful. I made some mice absorb the souls of other mice. The first one attacked a rat five times it's size, and killed it. The second one attacked me, it almost bit through my leather gloves. The last two killed each other, they kept fighting until they bled out, ignoring their missing limbs and wounds that should have killed them. You can see why I didn't use it until I was desperate.”

“That... was risky.”

“It was. But if it's a choice between surviving or dying, I'll choose life every time.”

She looked at him, genuinely confused. “Why? You can just come back to life. I heard that you told the general you'd slit your throat unless he went with your plan.”

“I see rumours are still the best way to get information in the army. I'm glad some things haven't changed.” he said with a smile. “That was a bluff. My Heart was only usable once, now it's just a very expensive piece of metals and crystals. I'm as mortal as anyone unless I make another one, and I don't have the time or resources to do that.”

He didn't add that he doubted he'd be allowed to make another one. They couldn't let him get too powerful after all.

His bodyguard suddenly got a worried expression, and muttered, “I wish I had a larger squad.” In a louder voice she asked, “How long until the demons get here?”

“About an hour. The flyers are mostly dealt with, and the main group of demons are split up. Half of them are fleeing a forest fire and the other half very cautiously making their way here. We'll still have a few thousand demons attacking on three sides.”

“You've seen the demons fight now, are you worried?”

“No. We have three thousand of my strongest dead and a thousand powerful ghosts I was able to take my time creating. Add to that the two thousand regular dead I raised and haven't used yet on the way here, and it's a formidable force. And then we have the traps. The demons have no idea what my dead are truly capable of, and they're going to bleed because of it.”

A group of Lleial scouts reached the barricades, their horses were breathing hard, and some of the riders were injured, but they looked happy. Dismounting the leader went to the officers tent to report, while the rest cared for their steeds. Keir saw Floria looking wistfully at the riders.

“You wish you were still a scout?”

“No, Regua. Being your bodyguard is a greater honour than I could ever hope for,” she said.

“I've found that the things that bring you honour, typically take you away from what you really want to do.”

She looked at him curiously.

“Don't let this body fool you,” Keir said, waving his hand along his youthful, feminine shape. “I'm over sixty years old, and have been a scholar barely avoiding starvation to the emperor of the continent. I never want to go back to the first, but as I gained power I found less and less time to study magic like I truly wanted to.”

“If I may ask, Regua, why did you conquer the continent? The stories only tell how you did it, not why.”

He leaned back, scratching his scalp which was bristly with new hair. In the moment he decided to tell her the truth, it couldn't hurt. “I started it because the idiot King Hart the Third decided to renege on his fathers deal allowing my necromantic college to study in his country. Rather then giving us time to find a new home and take our work with us, he gave us a week. Then when we couldn't leave in time, he sent his army to force us out and loot the college for everything he could sell.”

He paused, remembering the threats, the hundreds of soldiers ready to kill him, his colleagues and his students, and the ego of the incompetent king. “I raised an army of the dead and killed them all. Some of my students were sons and daughters of the nobility. Their parents, already unhappy with the king, rose in revolt, using the attack on their children as an excuse. My allies and I had control of the kingdom within three weeks.”

“That was when you became the king of Heichland?”

“No. I wasn't popular enough, even though my dead helped win the war, and I didn't want it. I was given the position of royal mage and the Necromantic College was made a royal establishment, ensuring we would always have a home. Power and time to study, it was all I could dream of.”

He sighed, the memories made him realize how long ago all of that was. “Our neighbours weren't so happy about the changes, especially when they learned the former, foreign queen was killed in the fighting. Her large family cried about how evil necromancy had taken over the kingdom. That led to the First War of the Dead. When the new king was killed in battle from treachery, I dealt with the traitors, and my dead were the only reason we found victory. There was no named heir, so I was made king.

“From there the war kept expanding. By the time my enemies were willing to declare peace, realizing they couldn't win, I could only see victory and gaining more power. I'd conquered or cowed half the continent, why not all of it? I was an old man by the time I realized what I'd given up.”

They sat in silence for several minutes, listening to the column preparing the last of the defences.

“What will you do after we kill the last of the demons?” Floria asked.

“Set up a kingdom somewhere in the continent, and rule it as best I can. The land will need a firm hand to rebuild, and I've had time to think over what I did in the past, I'll do better now. I won't resort to war as my first option. What about you?”

“I'll guard you, Regua,” she said without a moments hesitation. “I always wanted to be a warrior, being a scout was the closest I could come to that until the demons came. Now that I have that honour, I'm not going to give it up.”

He looked at her curiously. “I'm surprised the Lleial let women be scouts.”

“Women are light, our horses can travel quickly and farther. Still not many women succeed at it, the training is hard, the test to become a scout is even harder. I had been in the first year of training when the demons reached us.”

Keir nodded in understanding. Desperation usually made traditions and rules fall by the wayside, at least by those who wanted to survive. “I'll admit I'm not used to having a woman guarding me. But if we both survive to the end of the war, you can have the honour of leading my bodyguards.”

The Lieutenant swelled with pride. “Thank you, Regua. I won't disappoint you.”

“I'm sure you won't, Lieutenant Floria.” He smiled warmly at her. She was a good soldier, and a true believer in his importance, she'd already give her life to save his. Now she would work even harder, driven by honour and the need to succeed, perfect for someone who had to guard his life.

“Come along,” he said, getting to his feet. “It's time to start the ritual.”

The demon watched the humans preparing for battle. Its black, almost ethereal body was virtually invisible in the dark woods. A ghost wandered within arms reach of it, yet the spirit passed by, not noticing the slightly darkened patch of shadow stretched along the tree trunk.

It felt tendrils of magic pass through the dead ground, entering the trees and bushes around it. Curious it studied the new phenomena, tracing out the lines of glowing darkness. Slowly and carefully, moving at a snails pace, it edged closer to the camp, following the tendrils, trying to find their source.

At the very edge of the forest, it hid in the thickest of bushes, barely brushing the dead branches and leaves. Closing it's eyes, the demon pushed a part of it's spirit outwards. Invisible and intangible it flew over the barricades, spying on the dead and the living.

Close up the dead were easy to see, the black energy that filled them was a blot on the land. The living were harder, most glowed faintly, barely noticeable. A few, the mages, were lit up like candles. An instinctive hatred filled the demons soul. It had been created to kill the magic users, the need to tear them apart was almost overwhelming.

Forcing the feelings down, it continued following the tendrils of magic. The tendrils were becoming thicker, joining together, it had almost reached the source. It saw a cloth structure set up in the middle of the camp, the tendrils came from there.

Peering through a crack, the demon lurched back. It would have shrieked in pain if it could have.

The figure inside glowed like the sun. It had never seen anything so bright. Now that it had time to adjust it could look at the human without any pain. The small figure was guarded by at least two humans. It could make out those figures simply because they blocked the light.

Backing away, the demon saw three other assassins exploring the camp. It felt satisfaction at seeing it's kin. When the mindless demons attacked the camp, they would strike, killing all the mages if they could, but the necromancer had to die at all cost.

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

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, look at background info, see snippets of potential stories, and have a chance to choose what I write next, you can support me on my Patreon page.

The demons moved cautiously through the dead forest. Most of them had fought in the ferocious battles that had seen the humans nearly exterminated in the region. The piles of bones, the cracking of dead wood, and the stench of death reminded them that the enemy couldn't be underestimated. Still, the instinctive need to kill the humans was strong.

As they got close to the humans their caution was pushed aside, replaced by a fury they had never felt before. The voice of their god spoke to them, filling their brain with a single overwhelming need, 'Kill the necromancer.'

The thousands of demons moved as one, racing towards the human lines from all sides, howling in rage.

Gunfire rang out, dropping some of them. The smaller demons ran ahead, soaking up the bullets, heedless of their own lives, ignoring the pain that would normally send them reeling. God had spoken to them, they couldn't deny their orders, or hold back. They kept running as bullets tore off their limbs, ripped through their bodies, made them screech in agony. They wouldn't be stopped.

The demons began striking back with their own weapons. Rocks flew through the air, blasted like cannonballs from monsters with misshapen mouths. They tore through the barricades of bone and wood, killing anyone unlucky enough to be in their path. Other demons spit fire, arcing their fireballs to hit behind the lines, breaking apart when they hit the ground, setting fire to anything they touched.

Frog-like demons jumped impossible distances, a few fell thanks to lucky shots, most ignored the bullets that pierced their thick hides. They landed along the human lines and opened their mouths, releasing foul smelling gas. Soldiers fell choking and gasping to the poison. The demons were cut down moments later, but the damage was done and hundreds of soldiers lay dead in the dirt.

A few acid spitting demons got close enough to spray acid over the barricades. The humans fled, screaming in pain as the liquid ate into their flesh. The gunfire slackened as the front line collapsed.

The demons roared in glee. Their simple minds seeing an easy victory. The fastest ones reached the barricades and began to tear them down.

Their screeches of bloodlust and rage turned to terror as the barricades of bone erupted into life. The thousands of bones moved like water, flowing over the demons, crushing and stabbing them over and over again. The bone golems didn't have a shape, some moved over the ground like centipedes, seeking the enemy. Others rose high in the air, slamming down on the demons. The smallest demons had no hope of fighting, they were enveloped and slaughtered. The larger demons held firm, snapping and crushing the bones, wearing the golems down even as they were overwhelmed.

Massive, armoured gigantes, stampeded into the fight, their sheer bulk shattering the golems. The bones couldn't pierce their bone and hide, as pieces broke off or were crushed, they fell to the ground dead and unmoving. The golems recoiled from the attack, sacrificing smaller parts of their bodies so the majority could survive. Dodging and flowing around the unstoppable demons, the golems sought easier prey

Ghosts flew out of the sky. They ignored most of the demons, concentrating on the monsters that spit stone, fire and acid. The demons reacted instantly to the new threat. The smallest demons swarmed over top of their larger kin, acting as a living shield, giving their lives so the attack could continue. Still more threw themselves at the ghosts, flying through the ethereal creatures, then doing it again. Dead and dying demons formed small mounds around the living artillery, but still more came, forcing the ghosts to use up their energy, while fire, acid and stone fell on the humans.

With the golems fighting for their lives, demons began to slip past into the camp, they screeched victoriously, ready to slay the humans that had cost them so much.

The humans who had been fleeing turned to face them, their rotten, bony faces twisted with glee. The corpses who had fallen from the poison, flame and acid got to their feet. Ghouls shouted orders, raising their pistols and rifles to shoot the demons, while their mindless soldiers drew knives, swords and clubs, charging the demons.

From hidden trenches and pits more of the dead came. Flesh golems charged the demons, acting in pairs to grab the legs of the armoured giants, struggling to flip them over so their unarmoured stomachs could be reached. Rotten mockeries of the demons tore into their living kin with a ferocity that rivalled the demons own. The seemingly overwhelming tide of demons halted and was pushed back.

Farther back, the living humans stood up in their trenches and wagons and opened fire. Cutting the demons down in swathes. Mages worked together, weaving spells to take out the seemingly impervious armoured demons, setting them on fire from the inside.

The demons didn't stop. They had the numbers and the overwhelming need to kill. Slowly, they pushed the dead back, clambering over their own dead to get closer. Another, larger, wave of demons came from the forest. They'd drown the humans in blood if they had to, the necromancer would die.

Unseen by anyone, four shadowy figures moved through the wild melee, staying low to avoid the bullets. They ignored the death of their kin, the mindless demons were doing their job distracting the humans. The real mission belonged to them.

Once more Von watched in awe as monsters fought.

Weaving a spell with his partner, they sent a spear of air into the throat of a particularly large and well armoured four armed demon. Working with a partner slowed their spells down a little, but sharing the work would help save their strength.

A fireball flew through the sky, landing on a wagon. Soldiers howled in agony, jumping to the ground trying to put out the flames. Someone cast a spell causing water to drench the wagon and soldiers. Civilians came running, moving the wounded to the centre of their camp.

“There,” he said, pointing at the flame spewing demon. It was almost impossible to see under a mound of dead and dying imps and dark hounds. Only it's head was visible, lit by flames that clung to its blackened beak.

He and his partner threw a spear at it, guiding it to its target. They couldn't hear its death cry, but the flames died and the mound sagged. They didn't rejoice at their kill, there were more demons to kill.

“SHIELD!” he shouted, acting purely on instinct to create a magical wall in the air.

Dead trees fell from the sky all around the camp. Some shattered on the hastily formed shields, too many hit the ground, crushing people, living and dead alike. From the edge of the forest, enormous demons ripped more trees from the ground and sent them flying.

A new wave of demons charged into the battle. In the dim twilight they looked like a mass of insects, so numerous they hid the ground.

Casting a quick look back at the tent where Keir and three other mages were chanting. He had to shield his eyes at the ungodly amount of magic that made the tent glow like a sun. “Where is that spell Keir?” Von whispered.

As the demons tore through the dead forest they smelled the blood of their kin ahead of them. They heard the gunshots and shrieks of battle, blood lust roared to life, lashing them into a run. The smartest ones wondered how the humans could have held out for as long as they had. This wasn't one of their walled cities, there was no booming of artillery. The humans should be dead by now.

The rest didn't care. The first wave hadn't killed the humans, the second one would, or the third, or the fourth. They had come from all over the region, splitting into two armies. The majority were testing the human fortress, the rest were here destroying the humans foolish enough to enter their territory. They would crush the humans, just like they always had.

A tiny imp bounded through the dead trees to avoid the crush of demons on the ground. It chittered with joy at the coming battle, having never fought a human before. It had only been born a month ago, and its instincts cried out to slay a human and feast on their flesh.

It felt something tingle in its blood. In its short life, the imp had never felt anything like it before. For a moment it felt energized, full of life. Roaring it sped up, trying to reach the head of the horde. Then the feeling turned to a bitter cold, seemingly sapping its very life. It stopped its mad rush, clinging to the tree trunk, gasping, trying to understand what was happening.

The tree shook and cracked.

The imp shrieked in fear as the world moved.

Black tendrils wrapped around the dead wood, splitting it apart, and holding it together.

All around it the forest came to life.

Branches moved jerkily, reaching down to snatch up howling demons, smashing them together, throwing them high into the air, or piercing them with splintered, jagged wood.

Roots ripped free of the ground. The largest roots dug into the earth, dragging the tree forward. Smaller ones wrapped themselves around the necks of confused and frightened demons, strangling them.

The dead bushes and saplings gripped the demons legs holding them in place for the larger trees to crush and break them.

Claws and teeth tore at the wood. Blackness filled the gouges, keeping the undead plants upright and moving. Acid flew from some demons, melting some of the smaller plants into uselessness, demons caught in the spray screeched in pain.

Flames erupted from panicked demons, turning the dead and dry trees into flaming pyres of death. The fire spread burning plants and demons alike. The burning trees ripped their own branches off, throwing them far into the forest, spreading the flames.

Minutes after the surprise attack the forest was a wildfire of shrieking, dying demons, and undead trees using the last of their power to kill and burn anything that moved.

At the edge of the human lines the fighting was still going strong. The dead moved in groups struggling to hold back the demons while magic and bullets filled the air. Back-lit by the forest fire the demons, while numerous, were easy prey.

The shadow demon saw the faltering attack. It silently hissed in anger, the attack should not have been stopped so easily. Taking a risk, it sped up, it needed to kill the necromancer or the death of its kin would be for nothing.

“What!” a human said, seeing it move.

With inhuman speed, the shadow struck, slicing the head off the human and dragging it into the shadows in a matter of seconds. As it placed the body and head on the ground, it took a moment to hide the body under a cloak of shadows. No one would notice it for several minutes, long enough for it to complete its task.

The tent with the necromancer was just ahead.

It felt its three brothers circling the tent. Reaching out with its mind, it gave a single command, 'Kill.'

___

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

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, look at background info, see snippets of potential stories, and have a chance to choose what I write next, you can support me on my Patreon page.

Watching the spreading fire through the eyes of a ghost flying high above the camp, Keir smiled at his work. He'd never tried to animate a forest before, the challenge had been interesting. Of course he'd never been near a forest where virtually all of the plants were dead. He wasn't sure if he should find the creation of poison gas on such a scale interesting or terrifying.

The death energy created by the rapid death of so many lives had made the ritual possible. He'd mostly had to act as a conduit for the magical energy, using his power to shape it properly. Looking around with his magic sight, he could see that he'd used up a large amount of the energy. So he wouldn't be able to pull off the same trick anytime soon.

His ghostly maid, Hanina handed him a cup of cold sweet tea she'd made during the ritual. Sipping the drink he allowed himself to relax. All the casting today had been tiring. His three mage assistants were sleeping like the dead. He'd used up most of their magic one after the other, cutting them off from the ritual as they neared their limit. With a good night sleep and spending the next day travelling in a wagon they would be right as rain. He'd go to sleep soon as well, after it was clear the demons were defeated. And resting in the back of a well padded wagon until they reached the city didn't sound like such a bad idea.

His bodyguards, the living and the dead were dark shadows against the tent, silhouetted by the raging fire that surrounded them. It was nothing like his honour guard from his past. Still it was a decent start. They were proven soldiers, and loyal. If only he had fifty thousand just like them.

Right now he had some freedom, because the situation was so desperate and the Lleial were too important to cast aside. Once they reached civilization, his tenuous strength would vanish. The fact he was a woman now would weaken his position even more. Female mages and clergy were important, and not to be ignored. But as a war leader? As generals? That was different.

Looking down at his hands, the few callouses were new, the muscles weak. This had been the body of some highborn lady or a lady's maid. Healthy enough, but with no strength. He'd need to rely even more on his words and magic to gain respect from the soldiers and people, and even then they may only see him as a pretty figurehead.

Turning his eyes upwards, he frowned. “You couldn't let me rest and enjoy my life could you?” he asked the heavens. “There always has to be one more challenge, one more threat.”

There was no response. He hadn't expected one.

Hanina wrapped a blanket around his shoulders. He hadn't realized how cold he was until the warm wool touched his skin.

Finishing his tea, he bent down to pull off his boots. The demons were defeated, the last thousand or so survivors who were still capable of fighting would be killed soon enough.

There was a flash of light outside the tent. Where a spectral guard had been, a vaguely humanoid shadow of utter darkness stood.

“Assas-” Floria started shout. It was cut off by the sound of a pistol.

There was the sound of metal on metal, followed by a scream. Blood sprayed against the tent.

Drawing his sword, Keir got to his feet, creating a magical shield around himself. It seemed the demons had their own tricks.

Lieutenant Floria fingers stroked her pistol. The sounds of war called to her. She should be there, killing the demons who had destroyed her people. She took a few steps away from the entrance to the tent to make sure Sergeant Pol and Private Biel were awake and focused on their duty. If they weren't, she'd tear a strip from their hides and make them regret being born.

They seemed alert enough, their rifles held lightly in their arms ready to be used. Looking outward for any potential threats. The four ghostly soldiers The Regua had created were standing utterly still. She knew they were on her side and would fight any danger until they were destroyed, but the lack of breathing, shifting of the body, and their utter silence was unnerving.

Turning back to her own position, she resisted the urge to yawn. Private Sofia was standing by her side, and it wouldn't do to show tiredness in front of her.

The deepening shadows of twilight made it hard to make things out. The raging fires didn't help matters, ruining her night sight. The shadows were moving strangely, almost unnaturally. She found her fingers stroking her pistol again.

There was a flash of light behind her. Turning to look, a gasp of pain made her spin around, drawing her pistol.

Sophia was slumping to the ground, clutching her torn throat.

“Assas-” Floria began to shout. A shadow appeared before her, the only bit of colour on it were the silver claws, red with blood.

Her pistol rose and fired without hesitation, putting a bullet into the chest of the demon. From the back of the tent she heard Pol and Biel fighting. There was another flash of light.

The demon that had killed Sophia, slapped her hand before she could fire a second shot. It drove it's claws into her stomach. She felt them enter her, but there was no pain, just anger. The demons had killed her family. They had killed her soldiers. They were not going to kill the Regua.

Her free hand grabbed the back of the demons neck. She pressed herself against the loathsome thing, not letting it free it's claws. Twisting her hand, pointing the pistol in what she hoped was the right direction, she fired again.

The demon jerked as the bullet hit flesh. It pushed her away, its claws digging deeper into her stomach.

Floria fell to the ground, raising her pistol she fired again.

One of the surviving ghosts appeared behind the demon, driving its sword into its back. The demon didn't make a sound. It's limbs jerked, and twisted, so it was facing the ghost. It's claws glowed red, slicing into the ghost, making it explode in a flash of light.

Struggling to keep her pistol raised, she emptied the clip into the demon. It finally fell.

Trying to get to her feet, she realized the tent was torn open. The sound of fighting came from inside it. Where were her people? Where was anyone?

Reaching into her ammo belt, she pulled out a new magazine. It was slick from her blood. Shakily she tried to reload her pistol.

Keir felt his connection to his ethereal bodyguards get severed, one after the other.

Through the tent canvas he saw three pitch black figures, slaughtering his guards. They radiated magic, moving with a grace he'd seldom seen before. Raising his hand he started to create more ghosts. The tent was torn open before he could complete the spell.

He barely had enough time to raise his sword before the shadowy demon was on top of him. Sparks flew as he parried a swipe from the vicious claws that were more like daggers. His shield absorbed the blow from the other set of claws. There was a surge of magic pressing against his shield, trying to overload it.

The demon seemed surprised when his magic didn't fail. Using the distraction he kicked the demon in the knee. It was like kicking rock.

The three mages who had been asleep, yelled at the sight of the demon. One of them started to cast a spell, only to have his face torn off by a kick from the demon. The other two scrambled to escape.

Hanina struck at the demon with a ghostly knife. It backhanded her, ripping apart the magic that held her together. 

Gunshots erupted from outside the tent. Keir hoped that meant help was coming, as he ducked, parried and blocked the demon. If it wasn't for his shield he'd already be dead five times over. There was no time to cast a spell. It was all he could do to keep his shield up.

Canvas was shredded and a second demon stepped into the tent, it's claws dripping with blood.

Keir launched himself at the new demon, trusting in his magic to keep him alive long enough to kill the  new monster before it could attack.

He was brought up short as the first demon caught his arm, whipping him to the ground.

The impact knocked the air out of him.

In desperation he brushed his hand against the demons leg, he'd absorb its soul and deal with the consequences later.

Nothing happened.

The demon didn't have a soul. It was a creature of pure magic, barely contained in a physical shell. They fell on him, tearing at his shield, not giving him even a second to weave a spell.

Von ran towards the fighting. He wasn't the only person running to protect Keir, at least a dozen soldiers and several mages all had the same thought.

From the shadows a demon appeared. It was nearly impossible to see in the dim light, moving from shadow to shadow, its silver claws flashing, cutting flesh and slicing through limbs of anyone that it passed by.

Fear almost paralyzed him, the demons had sent their assassins. He hadn't thought there were any in the region, from the shouting in the tent there had to be more than one. He'd only heard of them working in pairs before, and that was when they had already tried and failed to kill a target with a single assassin.

Weaving two spells, his sword erupted in flame and a shield surrounded him. Ready for battle he charged the demon.

The assassin saw him coming and went to meet him. As he'd hoped, instinct had taken over the thing, it had been created to kill mages and aside from Keir, he was the strongest mage in the camp.

The other mages cast their spells. The demon dodged most of them, the ones it couldn't, it seemed to absorb, slowing down momentarily before shaking off the blows. To kill the demon they had to get in close and make it bleed.

“Protect Keir!” he shouted.

The demon struck at him, using its fantastic speed to get past his defence. He was ready for it, twisting to the side at the very last second. His flaming sword rose, missing the creature but burning its arm.

A soldier fired at the demon, catching it in the back. Using the distraction, Von pressed his attack, steel and claw lashed out. The demon was fast, avoiding most of the blows. In return Von's shield flashed and sparked as claws ran across its surface.

There were screams from the tent, followed by the sound of guns firing. He wanted to see what was happening, but if he took his eyes off his opponent, he would die. Sweat poured down his face as he pushed more magic into his shield.

He was being forced back by the demon, his magic draining at a terrifying speed.

Then an arm wrapped around the demons throat. The soldier who had shot the thing, was hanging from the demons back plunging his knife into its side.

Von stabbed the assassin in the chest, careful not to pierce it all the way through. With a thought he made the flames heat up, burning the monster from the inside.

It seemed to take forever for the demon to die. It's body turning into powder and blowing away in the hot winds coming from the fire that surrounded the camp.

At the tent it was a mad melee of blood and steel. Two demons, one of them clearly injured, were holding back the defenders, while inside the tent Keir screamed.

Racing to the tent, Von forced himself to ignore the bodies and cries of pain that rose up around him. Only Keir mattered.

He found the necromancer struggling against a demon, her sword lost, gripping the things arm. Her shield was flaring as claws raked against it. Long thin cuts covered her back where the tips of the claws broke through.

He couldn't stab the demon, there was too much of a risk he'd hit Keir. Weaving a spell fire covered his hands. Grabbing the assassin, he tried to wrench it off of the necromancer.

The demon twisted its arms, forgetting its target. Claws raked against Von's shield. Through the flames, he saw the claws glow red. For a moment his shield held, then it seemed to shatter and he felt the razor sharp blades pierce his body.

His muscles tensed, he couldn't move. But his mind still worked, the demon had to die. He sent more magic into the flames around his hands. He screamed as his flesh burned.

The demon writhed in his hands, as paralyzed from pain as he was.

It finally died, turning into ash and smoke. He fell to the ground, curling into a ball, trying to protect his hands and body.

He saw Keir get to her feet, blood dripped from her clothes. She was saying something, her sword rose into the air, the air crackled around it. He watched as it flew from the tent, there were shouts and screams, then silence.

It was getting hard to breathe. At least the pain was gone.

Keir fell to her knees beside him, placing her hands on his chest. “I'm terrible at healing, but I'm not about to let you die. The only person who gets to kill you is me, and I'm going to savour the moment when I do,” she growled.

Magic surged through him. There was pain and a deathly cold, then there was nothing.

___

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

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, look at background info, see snippets of potential stories, and have a chance to choose what I write next, you can support me on my Patreon page.

The rough movement of a wagon woke Von. Opening his eyes he was blinded by the bright light of day. Raising his hand, pain surged up his arm, making him gasp. Pushing past it, he forced his arm up to look at it. Bandages went from his fingertips to his elbow, black healing runes ran along the white fabric, they'd keep infection away and help speed up the healing process. Trying to move the fingers of his other hand proved impossible. Something, he assumed they were bandages, held them tight.

With a few moments to adjust, the light was bearable. Looking around he saw he was lying in a mix of wool and cloth sacks. There was a dull ache from his stomach. He remembered the demon stabbing him, the feeling of claws tearing his flesh. It was a miracle he was alive.

Somehow he was still alive. He was even comfortable enough that he was tempted to go back to sleep. Several other injured men were resting in the wagon.

“Good afternoon,” Keir said. The necromancer was sitting up, her arms stretched out along the rough wood of the wagon side. Her face and hands were covered in long, thin cuts, they were slick with a healing salve.

“I'm alive,” Von said. “You didn't let me die.”

“No I didn't. You saved my life, it was only right that I return the favour. Not that I could do much except keep you breathing, healing really isn't something I'm good at. Sorry about your hand.”

“It will heal.”

“Not your left hand. You burned it so badly they had to cut it off. I could possibly give you an animated hand. I spent quite a bit of time working on that problem, some of the test animals survived,” Keir said with a grin.

Biting back a moan of pain, he raised his left arm. It ended at the wrist. He let it drop to the straw and instantly regretted it, yelping as liquid agony filled his veins. Without his hand weaving spells would be harder. He'd have to relearn how to do them, it would take months, maybe even years. Fighting the demons one handed wouldn't be easy either. If his right hand didn't heal properly, he'd be useless.

“How many people died?” he asked, pushing his personal complaints to the side.

“Thirty-eight dead or injured from the main attack, most of them will survive. Twenty-three dead from the assassins, fourteen injured, a handful of them are expected to die by nightfall. When you've rested a bit more, I want to know how to stop those damn constructs from getting so close.”

“Constructs?”

“The assassins. They were pure magic. No soul in them. That's probably why most magic wouldn't hurt them and we have to burn them or cut them into pieces to put them down permanently. Didn't you know that?”

“No. Someone probably does, but I've never had to deal with them. I've only heard of them. They're so rare, we don't know much. Can't study the bodies, so we have to guess about so many things.”

“Well they aren't rare enough. They killed most of my bodyguards, and all of my ghosts. If they have any more to throw at us, we'll be in trouble.” Keir picked up a canteen of water. “Thirsty?”

He nodded.

The necromancer none too gently lifted his head and held the bottle so he could drink. The warm, stale water was delicious. After drinking his fill, he closed his eyes, utterly exhausted.

“Get some sleep. We'll be in the city by noon tomorrow. We'll have plenty to do then and your magic could be useful.”

He wanted to reply, but it would take too much work. Instead he fell asleep.

When the column stopped for a rest, Keir made his way back to another wagon of injured soldiers. He was tired, and the cuts that covered his arms, front and face stung from the salve. He'd much rather stay in his comfortable spot and go back to sleep, but there was something he had to do.

Climbing into the wagon, he took a seat beside his last surviving bodyguard. A new ghostly maid was looking after Lieutenant Floria, doing what she could to keep the soldier comfortable. It was the least the woman deserved after fighting and almost dying.

Von had also helped keep him alive, and lost his hand in return. But the mage had also shackled his soul with the geas, some things couldn't be forgiven, so he could suffer a little discomfort.

“Regua,” Floria whispered.

“Rest. You're badly injured, but you'll survive,” he told her. The healers had gotten to her quickly enough to keep her alive. It had been touch and go for a while though. She'd lost so much blood, the healers had almost given up on her. He'd insisted they keep working.

“Sorry, I failed you. Failed my people,” she said. Tears fell from her eyes.

He stroked her cheek. “You didn't fail me. You shouted a warning, and fought a demon even after it stabbed you. Now sleep. When you're healed, I expect you to take control of my new guard.”

She gave a faint smile, trying to reach his hand. He took her hand in his, and gently placed it back by her side. Her eyes fluttered briefly, then she was asleep again.

Slipping down into the straw, Keir closed his eyes. He was exhausted. He hoped he wouldn't have to deal with any demons before the city. His surviving dead were protecting the column, but he personally was in no state to raise yet another army.

He let sleep overtake him.

Estelle looked beautiful in her brilliant red gown.

Keir watched his eldest daughter and her fiance Eyob, wave to the cheering crowd from their open carriage. The carriage was a work of art, seeming to be made entirely of silver and ivory, being drawn by twelve ghostly horses that glowed in the sun.

He and Estelle's mother, Katherine his third wife, rode behind them, letting the young couple take the place of honour in the parade. Soldiers lined the roads, keeping the crowd back. An honour guard surrounded his daughters carriage and his own horse. But on this day he didn't think they were needed. The crowd was overjoyed with the news.

The royal wedding assured the city of good times ahead as tens of thousands of visitors arrived, needing food, lodgings, drink, and entertainment. The weather promised a bountiful harvest. There was peace in the land for the first time in twelve years. Trade was flourishing within the empire. Even the rumbling of rebellion on the Yellow Coast was a distant worry.

The future was bright.

He saw a brewer selling beer to the crowd from a dozen large barrels set up in front of his brewery. The man was making a fortune, his employees rushing to fill glasses for the hundreds of customers. The man raised his cup in a toast to the royal family.

The unopened barrels erupted in flames.

Time moved in slow motion. Keir saw the explosion reaching out to engulf Estelle. Onlookers were thrown through the air like rag dolls. The honour guard was cut down like wheat before the scythe. He tried to cast a spell to protect his daughter. There was no time.

The carriage shattered.

His shield flared, protecting him and his wife from the deadly shrapnel that flew through the air like bullets. His horse reared, sending him to the pavement. He felt something crack.

He heard Katherine shrieking. Other voices joined hers. Shouts of fear, bellows of pain, and the screams of the maimed and dying.

Staggering to his feet, he shoved the few bodyguards who remained on their feet away from him. He had to see Estelle.

Smoke filled the street. Gunpowder choked him with every gasping breath. Stepping over bodies, he tried to find his daughter. Bloody, maimed hands reached out for him. The broken bodies that had just moments ago been healthy, happy people, spoke to him, he couldn't hear what they were saying. The ringing in his ears and the screams of the masses overpowered their dying pleas.

He saw a bit of red.

Rushing over, he saw Estelle. Somehow a few shreds of her dress still covered her body. It was the only way to tell who she was. The shattered lump of flesh didn't look human anymore.

He couldn't scream. He couldn't weep. Rage filled him. Holding his daughter, he silently swore that her murderer would see everything they loved destroyed and beg for death.

It was getting towards evening when Keir woke up from his nightmare. His face was damp from tears. Wiping them away, he looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Relief washed over him as he realized everyone was asleep.

He hated the memories that masqueraded as dreams. He'd lived through the horrors of war and death once already, he didn't need to do it a second time.

Looking at Floria who was still asleep, he realized she was the same age as his Estelle had been. He pushed that thought aside. She was a soldier, she was his soldier. He'd use her, and probably destroy her. It was what happened in war.

It was what he did. He was the necromancer, he brought death wherever he walked.

Officers began shouting orders. They'd found their camping spot for the night. Sighing, he got out of the wagon. There was work to do.

___

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

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, look at background info, see snippets of potential stories, and have a chance to choose what I write next, you can support me on my Patreon page.

Well behind schedule, the column reached the city of Kodor early in the morning, with frost still on the grass. The dead city looked far different than it had when Keir had last visited it over three hundred years ago.

The first thing he noticed was how much bigger it was. In his day it had had over sixty-thousand inhabitants. From the size of the ruins it had grown to well into the hundreds of thousand. The outskirts of the city stretched for miles, all of it smashed flat, leaving only rubble, bones and basement. Remnants of barricades, some well built of dirt, rock and metal, other hastily thrown together using burnt timber, overturned wagons, dead horses, and demons, and furniture, littered the ruined streets.

Stunted plants grew out of the shell holes and from bare dirt where cobble stones had been torn up. Rats, crows, and other vermin watched them from the safety of the ruins. They'd grown fat from the dead, even months after the fall of the city, it still smelled of rot and death.

They were able to make good time, the dead had been sent forward to scout out the area and had cleared a way through the streets. The injured in the wagons moaned and yelled in pain at the rough ride, there wasn't much that could be done for them except to give them more alcohol to numb their minds and their pain. Keir was happy that he'd recovered enough to ride his horse. It made the journey a bit easier.

Reaching the city proper, they had come to a stop.

The desperate defenders of Kodor had razed everything for several blocks, the rubble used to form a thick wall.

The entire area looked like the gods had sent fire from the skies to punish the guilty. Holes ten, twenty meters deep and a hundred meters across formed small ponds. The stone which had once been roads and the foundations of buildings had turned to powdery gravel mixed with shards of bone. In places, fires had burned so intensely that the sand and rock had turned to glass.

Gunfire rang out, soldiers shouted and officers ran to see what was going on.

Keir trotted over, not very worried, his ghosts had told him the city was dead. Then he saw the problem.

Ghostly demons were running over a shell hole. They silently shrieked, dropping from bullets that tore bloodless holes in their bodies. There was a sensation of an explosion, felt in the soul rather than the body, and the ghosts were torn apart. A moment later they reappeared, going through the last seconds of their life once more.

“They can't hurt you,” he said. “They're fragments of magic, built around the energy of life, death and desperation. The city will be full of them.”

“You heard Mage Keira,” a captain shouted. “Keep an eye out for the living, ignore the dead.”

Riding up to the front of the column, where the barrier was slowly being torn down, Keir opened his eyes to the magic that surrounded him.

Half seen figures appeared, desperate apparitions fired from the buildings and wall as fire raged around them. Demons fell from the sky, others climbed the wall of rubble, still more fought a never ending battle against faceless soldiers. All around him the screams and wails of the dead filled his ears.

The city had died hard and brutally, leaving a scar in the soul of the world. Only in the worst battlefields had he felt anything like this. Even then it hadn't been on this scale, a few patches of intense death and emotion, where the fighting had been hardest, where you could taste death in the air. This was so far beyond it, it was like comparing a pond to the ocean.

In the mix of present and past, living and dead, a figure caught his attention. A pair of children, a brother and sister by the looks of them, bloody and crying, clutching each other for comfort silently staggered along the broken ground, hunched down, jerking away from unseen monsters.

Keir followed the ghosts, wanting to know what would happen. A group of soldiers followed along behind, making sure he'd be protected.

The ghost children were joined by more figures, women, children, old folks who could barely walk, a few men, most of whom were wounded. They surrounded Keir, their eyes lost and defeated. The figures sapped the warmth from the air, every breath formed a cloud despite the warm sun. A growing sense of depression and doom weighed down on him.

The apparitions covered the land so thickly he couldn't tell who was real and who was dead. They came to a spot where the shell holes weren't quite as thick. The ghosts were forced by unseen foes to huddle together. Then a handful were separated from the mass of humanity.

Ignoring the ghosts he was riding through, Keir wove his horse through the uneven ground, to see what was happening.

The separated humans were moved to a clear spot of ground. They were screaming, a few hunched down trying to protect the children, some attacked their invisible attackers. Others stood there, broken, waiting for death. Wounds opened up along their chests and necks, they fell to the ground and vanished.

More groups were brought forward.

Cutting off his magic sight, Keir shuddered at what he had seen. The soldiers who had come with him hadn't seen what he had. They could see a few ghostly figures walking along, dying from unseen blows, but it was nothing like the mass butchering he had seen. Still they knew that something evil had happened there.

“Mage Keira,” a lieutenant said softly, his face pale and damp from sweat, “I believe it's time we return to the column.”

“Yes. Sorry, I needed to see,” he said.

Turning away from the sight, Keir saw the brother and sister once more walking to their deaths. He looked away, unwilling to see it again.

Colonel Moreno pointed at a map of the city. “The scouts have reported back, it looks like the demons have completely abandoned the city. We're lucky we don't have to fight them in that rats nest. In a blessing from The Mother and The Father, they also left the granaries and armouries virtually untouched. We don't know how much is left in them, but there seems to only be minimal damage to the buildings so it's a good sign.”

Keir listened carefully along with the officers, as the Colonel laid out the plan for the next few days, which mostly involved clearing paths for the wagons to get to where they were needed. While they could move the grain, weapons, shells and other equipment by hand to the wagons, even with his dead it would be a hopelessly slow process. It was more efficient to clear the roads.

“I'll need a small group of men to come with me after we reach the granaries,” Keir said.

“What for? Even with the demons gone, the city isn't safe,” the Colonel said.

He had to admit the man was right. Many of the buildings had been destroyed by fire, leaving empty shells waiting to collapse, others merely been weakened by fire, bombs, and fighting. Still he had his own tasks to accomplish.

“I had a workshop near the council buildings. It has several papers and notes that will help us,” he explained.

The Colonel frowned, the council buildings were in the center of the city. While there was an armoury near to it, it was one of the oldest ones in the city. Due to its small size it was only going to be looked at if the other larger and newer armouries were empty. Still after a moment he nodded. “Very well Mage Keira. I'll have scouts look for the safest route, and you'll have twenty men plus at least a hundred of your dead, go with you. Is that sufficient?”

Nodding, Keir smiled. “That's perfect.” He'd had a rough start with Colonel Moreno at the first battle over two weeks ago, and hadn't interacted with him very much afterwards, but his opinion of the man was improving.

“Your ghosts haven't reported any signs of major demon activity, is that still the case?”

“It is. There are individual and small groups of demons watching us from a distance, to conserve energy the ghosts are keeping them well back but letting them live. If we're attacked again we'll need all of our remaining dead to beat them back.”

It was the Colonels turn to nod. “Very good. I'd rather avoid a fight while we're here. The men aren't mentally in any shape for one, too many are ready to break down or fly into a rage seeing their city dead along with their families and friends.”

“How soon do you think it will be until we can head back?”

“With having to clear the streets, at least a week. Two days to get to the granaries, another day to reach all the armouries, at least a day to load everything up, probably more. Then we need to join up again and leave with the wagons near breaking. And that's if everything goes well.”

“Very well. I'll leave you to your work and rest. Tomorrow I'll be able to create more ghosts to make sure nothing surprises us.”

The Colonel nodded his goodbye. “Of course, that will be most helpful.”

Leaving the command tent, Keir headed for the wagons. He saw Von sitting propped up by a fire, sweat dripping down his face. The mage had the far away look that was a sign he was looking at the magical energies. The mans remaining hand was moving in a smooth pattern weaving magic together, a flame sputtered to life. The magic was clumsy, being worked with just a single hand, but the fact Von could do it at all after training with both hands was impressive.

Entering a large tent, Keir took a clean rag and filled a bowl with water. Taking a seat beside Lieutenant Floria, who was sleeping restlessly on a well padded bed roll, he wove a quick spell heating the water. Dipping the rag, he carefully and gently wiped away the dust from the young woman's face.

___

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

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, look at background info, see snippets of potential stories, and have a chance to choose what I write next, you can support me on my Patreon page.

The road work was moving along nicely. The dead under directions from the living were clearing the streets of debris, slowly but steadily making a path to the granaries, armouries, warehouses, and hospitals. Soldiers in small groups, starting with former inhabitants of the city, were allowed to survey the various neighbourhoods. If they came back with some keepsakes, clothes, blankets or food, it was ignored by their officers, and another group was allowed to head out.

The survey groups had mostly all reported the same thing, outside of scavenging animals, the city was dead. No demons were left in the corpse, only ghosts and bones. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief at the news. It was one thing to hear that the dead scouts hadn't seen any of the monsters, it was more reassuring to hear it from the living.

And there was some unexpected news as well.

Keir watched from the edge of the crowd as a few dozen starving, filthy humans came into the camp. They smelled like an outhouse, Keir had to wrinkle his nose even from his distant spot, but they were alive. Their faces ranged from shock at seeing a human army in the city, to glassy eyed apathy, especially from the handful of children.

When they saw the buckets of water and soap set out for them, the clean clothes stacked in piles, and soup with bark bread being heated over the campfires, they couldn't seem to believe it at first.

A man who may have been wearing the robes of a priest, moved towards the buckets, his eyes flicking back and forth like a panicked animal. He touched the water, finding it warm. A priestess of the Mother went up to him, she spoke quietly, holding out a clean rag and soap for him.

The man began to cry, falling to his knees, his arms raised. “Thank you,” he sobbed. “Thank you for delivering us from the Abyss.”

Like a dam breaking, the pitiful group broke into tears, hugging each other, thanking the soldiers who had led them to the camp, and made their way to the buckets. Stripping out of their rags, they began to work at the grime that was caked into their skin.

More tears fell when they put on clean clothes, and were handed tin cups filled to the brim with demon soup. People surrounded them, asking if they knew what had happened to friends and families. Officers quickly ordered them back, not wanting to overwhelm the newcomers, and to avoid the inevitable depression when people realized there would be few if any happy reunions.

Having seen enough, Keir walked up to the group, preparing a spell to kill the bugs that still infested their hair and skin even after the scrubbing. His own people made way for him, a few took off their caps in respect.

“Toshka!” a young man shouted, dropping his cup.

Surprised, Keir jerked to a halt. The man's face and neck were badly scarred and only recently healed, he had a battered pistol and sword on his belt, and it looked like he'd seen a ghost. Then the man ran at him, tears streaming down his face. Soldiers rushed in, grabbing him by the arms.

“That's far enough,” one of the soldiers said.

“Toshka, it's me Mirek! Don't you remember?” the man said.

Keir walked up to him. “I'm sorry, I'm not Toshka,” he said.

“Of course you are. That pox scar on your cheek, you got it when you were fifteen, and your entire family came down with cow pox. I brought food for you and your family everyday until you recovered.”

His hand went to the small scar on his cheek, so small it was barely noticeable. “Let him through,” he told the soldiers.

The man, Mirek, didn't quite run up to him. Keir was about to speak, when two strong arms wrapped around, lifting his tiny body into the air and a tearful kiss was planted on his cheek.

“I prayed every day that you made it to safety. I tried to protect your parents, I'm so sorry, but I lost them when the city fell. I couldn't save them, They told me to save the children. They gave their lives so we could get to the sewers. They were heroes.”

“Mirek, put me down,” Keir ordered, trying to get free from the overpowering embrace.

“ What of my brothers? Did you get them and Luka and Brina to Desolation Keep? Are they safe?”

The questions kept coming, and it was getting hard to breathe. Keir realized the man was in shock, and wasn't listening. With a mental command he made his ghostly guards visible, the ghosts grabbed the Mirek's arms, pulling him off, freeing the master.

Taking a moment to straighten his clothes and get his composure back, Keir looked up at the man, who was staring in horror at the ghosts who still held him. “Mirek, I'm not Toshka. I'm sorry, but she died. I don't know what happened to your brothers or Toshka's family and friends.”

“B-but,” the man started to speak, when a large ethereal hand clamped down over his mouth.

Using his magic, Keir made his voice carry over the crowd. Not shouting, but sounding as if he was talking from just a few feet away. Dark mist rose around him. “I am Mage Kiera, formerly Emperor Keir. Toshka died of an illness, her body was prepared and my soul was placed inside of it. I'm the Necromancer Reborn, alive again after three centuries to fight the demons and send them back to the Abyss. The woman you knew is with Mother Sun, protected from pain and suffering.”

Mirek stared at her, the hope and joy that had filled his eyes moments before faded away, replaced by grief. Dropping to his knees he wailed like the damned.

Keir rose early in the morning as the sun was just coming over the horizon. The makeshift camp was slowly coming to life, as he made his way to the cooking fires to get some porridge and a cup of hot chicory coffee. The drink wasn't as refreshing as coffee, but the warmth felt good on the cold morning.

Taking a seat on a bench that had been dragged out of a ruined restaurant, Keir quietly watched the world wake up. More survivors had been found, not many, less than a hundred in all. That they had survived at all was a miracle.

They moved with a cautious, wide eyed look, as if expecting everything to disappear. As they got their meagre bowl of porridge, they clutched it to their chests as they went to find somewhere to eat. When it was cool enough, they emptied the bowl into their mouth and licked it clean before some imagined thief could steal it from them.

The soldiers and workers were a mix of emotions and reactions. Some just went through the motions of eating and got to work without any complaints, maybe talking to their friends about what to expect. Others were morose, staring at the shattered buildings, remembering when the city had been alive and full of people. The smallest group laughed and joked, trying to bring everyone's spirit up.

A priest stood off to the side preaching the fiery creed of Father Moon. A sizable number of believers knelt before him, listening intently. Their body language was ugly. They wanted a fight. Keir wondered how soon they would get it.

As he watched, Keir saw Mirek watching him with shadowed eyes.

He turned away, refusing to dwell on his body's former lover. There was nothing he could say to the man. The woman he had loved, the woman he had been going to marry was dead. There was nothing Keir could do for him.

Getting to his feet, the necromancer went off to find Colonel Moreno. There was work to be done, might as well get it done quickly.

Keir looked up at Von, who was strapped into his saddle, face pale, the stump of his hand well wrapped in healing bandages.

“Are you sure you're up for this?” he asked the mage.

“Yes.” Von replied, his normally deep voice was quiet and worn out. “I'm curious about your lab, and you may need magical help.”

“Very well. I hope you can keep up.” Keir went to his horse and mounted it. Waving to the twenty soldiers and his ghosts that flew above their heads, they started down the road towards the river docks.

Ghostly screams, shouts and pleas for mercy rose from the houses and air. Sometimes they were matched by translucent figures reliving their last moments. Keir didn't dare look at the street with his magic sight, the ghosts would have been overwhelming.

As they got closer to the docks, the buildings became poorer. In the better part of the town the buildings had torn down doors and shattered windows, hiding the atrocities that had occurred behind thick wall. These cheaper buildings hadn't been so lucky, walls were torn down, and fire had ravaged entire neighbourhoods.

“This doesn't seem like an area you'd use for a study,” Von said.

“That's exactly why I put it here, I wanted privacy for my work. To ensure I had it, I never came this way. There was a teleportation circle hidden in my private office with a scrying mirror to notify me if someone wanted my attention. I also had a few back entrances ready, just in case.”

The mages jaw dropped, likely as he realized the cost of such a set up. Setting up the teleportation alone would have would feed a small city for  an entire year. “That seems excessive,” he finally managed to say.

“And that's why I became the ruler of the continent whereas most people rely on half-measures and hope,” Keir replied.

They came to a large door that protected the entrance to the sewer. Keir placed his hand on the handle and released a very specific bolt of necromantic energy. The door swung open showing a section of the sewer. Keir created a silvery light as they went through, the door closed by itself once everyone had entered. Some of the soldiers gasped when they saw the door vanish leaving a dark sewer tunnel that seemed to stretch on forever. Making their way down, ducking low in the cramped tunnel, careful to stay on the stone platform that kept them mostly free of the filth that coated the bottom of the sewer, he counted the bricks, until he reached the ninety-eighth one from the entrance.

He knocked three times quickly, twice slowly and one last time after counting to twenty. A ghostly butler opened the hidden door.

The elegantly dressed ghost eyes widened in surprise, then a smile came to its pale, dour face. “Emperor Keir, it has been too long,” the ghost said bowing low.

“I'm sorry for making you wait so long Jaris,” Keir said to his faithful attendant. “Your duty is now over, you can depart or join me up above in a war against demons.”

“I served you in life, I will continue to serve you in death, sir.”

“Thank you my friend. Now we have much to do and little time, I need my notes on vampires.”

The ghost hesitated for a moment, his pale eyes suddenly looking nervous. Then Jaris nodded, saying “Of course, sir.”

___

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

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, look at background info, see snippets of potential stories, and have a chance to choose what I write next, you can support me on my Patreon page.

Keir turned to his soldiers, “Men stay out here. I won't be long. Von you may come in.”

Stepping into his lab after so long felt like coming home to Keir. The work tables, writing desk, surgical slab, the tools, his notes, they were all as he'd left them over three hundred years ago. The specimens, chemicals, elixirs and everything else perishable were gone. Jaris had likely removed them centuries ago as part of his duties. His old servant had done his duties well, the room only had a thin layer of dust coating it, other than that everything was in working order and clean.

Von stepped into the room and took a seat. His face was pale, and the mage winced in pain as he rested his bandaged arm on his lap. The loss of the hand had slowed the man down a fair bit, and even with magic the healing was taking a long time.

“I'm sorry about the mess, sir,” Jaris said as he walked over to a locked cabinet. “When you did not return, I went to sleep, waking every ten years to tidy things up. It's been three years since I last woke.”

“Don't worry, Jaris. You've done your duties far better than anyone could expect. Do you know what's been happening in the world?”
“No, sir. I've had no need to step outside. Is it serious? And if I may ask, is it why you have come back as a rather fetching young lady?”

A blush came to his cheeks, no one who knew his real identity had complimented his body. Admired and leered at it, yes, but a compliment had never been forthcoming. He didn't know how to feel about that. “Demons have taken most of the continent, killing everyone they capture. I was resurrected to help fight them.”

“And this is why you want the information on vampires?”

“Yes.”

Jaris sighed, despite not needing to breathe it was an ingrained habit from when he was alive. “Fighting fire with fire. I see death hasn't changed you.”

“What are vampires?” Von asked. The mage had been listening quietly while studying the room, but now the curiosity was clear on his face.

Smiling, Keir answered him. “There is an old myth of an undead monster that feeds on blood at night. It was a popular ghost story to scare children when I was a boy. When I was studying the soul, I made one by accident.”

His ghostly servant shivered, even as it slowly opened the elaborate locks, magical and mundane, that held the cabinet closed. Keir couldn't blame the old ghost, it was the vampire that had killed him.

The mage looked confused. “You've created dozens of monsters in your time, why haven't I heard of this vampire?”

“Because I killed it and locked the notes away,” Keir said. “It was impossible to control, savage, and damn hard to kill, worst of all it could heal itself by draining the blood or soul of others. I lost six good men and women before I could destroy it. Jaris was the only one who kept his soul after the vampire killed him, allowing me to create a ghost from his memories and personality. For the rest there wasn't enough left to salvage anything.”

“If vampires are so hard to control, and so dangerous, why would you want to create more of them?”

“Because I have an idea how I can control them, at least enough to make them only attack the demons. These binding tattoos should work on them. I simply have to make one that keeps them from attacking humans, and they'll go after demons instead.” Keir grinned at the mage, it wasn't a nice smile. “I should thank you for giving me such wonderful new ideas.”

Von ignored the comment. “Is that all you want from here, the notes on vampires?”

“No, there are several other things, but that is the most important.”

Walking around the large room, he saw one of the things he wanted, a perfect white quartz sphere that fit neatly in the palm of his hand. Holding it tightly, he felt the warmth emanating from stone. Barely audible screams of pain and madness filled his mind. Keir couldn't help himself, his grin grew larger.

“Keir, what is that stone?” Von asked.

“A pleasant little keepsake, to remember my eldest daughter.”

“Is that the stone that holds the soul of Prince Acastus?”

Long practice kept his expression steady. “Where did you hear a story like that?”

“After the war everyone close to you was intensely questioned. Several of them spoke of how you ripped the Prince Acastus soul from his body and put it in a white stone ball. Has he really been trapped there for three centuries?”

“He killed my daughter!” Keir snarled. “He brought the hard fought peace I'd taken a decade to win to an end, causing the death of hundreds of thousands. All because he was a spoiled, arrogant prince who thought he deserved my daughter. This is the least that he deserves.”

He watched the mage closely. This was the second time Von had seen him truly angry. The wound his daughters death had created was still there, and it was even more raw since learning of the deaths of all his children and wives. He knew what the mage was going to command, and it would shatter the little bit of goodwill he felt for the man.

Von looked him in the eye, silently thinking. Keir refused to look away, he wanted the to man to see the hatred and fury that roiled in his soul. He was a chained dog for now, but he would slip free one day soon.

“I think three hundred years of pain and torture is long enough for anyone to suffer. But I'm not going to command you to do anything,” the mage finally said. “Simply consider about what people will think if they learn you have someones tortured soul in your pocket, so you can gloat over it. Is that what you want your allies to think about when they deal with you?”

Placing the ball in his pouch, Keir got his emotions under control. “I'll think about it,” he said.

Jaris opened the cabinet with a loud creak. “If you are both done, you can get the notes now, sir.”

“Thank you, Jaris.” Keir said, going over to the treasure trove of necromantic knowledge. Running his hand over the metal box at the bottom of the cabinet, he channelled his magic into it, causing it to open. Inside were the notes that he didn't want anyone to see. Vampires, his resurrection, the massive and virtually unkillable skeleton called the gashadokuro by one of his long dead assistants, and more. If his enemies and more than a few of his allies had seen these papers three hundred years ago, they would have proclaimed him a monster and demanded his death.

Now their descendants were going to declare him a hero.

They all went into separate pouches, which were handed out to the soldiers. He went around his workroom twice, making sure he had everything of importance. When he was sure of it, he took a knife, pierced his thumb and drew a rune on the wall beside the door, pushing his magic into it.

“Let's go, there's nothing else we need here,” he said.

Stepping out, he looked back one last time. Everything was breaking down. The stone walls were chipping and cracking, the wooden furniture rotted away in seconds, the papers turned to dust, soon there would be nothing left but powder. Closing the door, Keir felt one more tie to his old life snap.

“What now?” Von asked.

“We head back to the camp. I have some work to do, and tomorrow we will start a ritual that they'll feel across the entire continent.”
The mage raised his eyebrow in question.

For the third time in an hour, Keir grinned. “It will take a few days to complete, but we're going to turn this dead city into a monster that will make the demons cry in terror. I'll explain the details on the way back.”

___

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

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, look at background info, see snippets of potential stories, and have a chance to choose what I write next, you can support me on my Patreon page.

Colonel Moreno was at his makeshift desk looking over reports when Keir entered the mostly intact building. The hopelessness and fear that had filled the mans dark eyes when they'd first met had faded. There was a hint of iron and hope when he spoke now. Keir was glad to see it, this was going to be a long war and defeatists could bring it all crashing down.

“Mage Keira, I trust your errand went well,” Colonel Moreno said.

“Yes it did Colonel, and I now have what I need for a special project. How much longer will it take to gather the supplies?” Keir asked.

“We've reached the granaries and armoury, with the dead working through the night we should have everything in three days, and can return to base on the fourth.”

“I'd like to request a wait, I need five days to perform a ritual that could mean victory or defeat.”

The Colonel leaned back in his chair, scratching his chin. “I don't like being in enemy territory for any longer than I need to be.”

“I understand, but the scouts and ghosts haven't seen anything other than small packs of demons within three days of the city. If I have five days, we'll have an army that would rival the Undying Army at its peak.”

That made the Colonel's eyes widen. The Undying Army had numbered a million professional soldiers and dead before Keir, his heir and his most important officers and mages had been assassinated. Even for a continent wracked by genocidal war, that type of army was not to be idly cast aside.

“How will you manage that? Raising several thousand drained you and the other mages.”

Keir smiled at the question. It was a good one. “Those were desperate measures, using brute force and raw power. With all the mages helping me, careful placement of runes to amplify and direct the magical energy properly, and using the overwhelming necromantic energy that is saturating the city, we can do something I'd only practiced on a much smaller scale.”

“Five days, you say?”

He nodded.

“There are some damaged wagons that can be repaired, harnessing the demon dead to them will mean a few more weeks of food and more weapons.” Colonel Moreno tapped his desk. “You have five days, we leave on the morning of the sixth.”

“Thank you, Colonel. I'll get started immediately,” Keir said. Not waiting for a reply, he made his leave, there was much to do and very little time.

Jaris was waiting outside, studying the dead city with melancholy eyes. “Shall we begin, sir?”

“Yes, I'll give you two hundred dead to start setting up protection runes around the camp, work areas, and the roads between them. I want them done by dawn. I'll explain what we're going to do with the mages and go over my notes for tomorrow.”

“Are you sure about this, sir? You've never tried anything on this scale,” Jaris asked, playing his role of sober second thoughts that had made him so valuable in the past.

“Death is so thick here even the dullest person can taste it in the air. If we can control it we'll create an army that will make the demons shake with terror.”

“And if it goes wrong we have no idea what could happen. You should know better than most how painful dying can be.”

Grinning, Keir said, “You had best make sure the protection runes are done properly then.”

“Very well, sir.”

Keir waited while the mages read over the ritual. Their part was relatively simple, they needed to supply a slow, steady stream of energy into the runes. They'd be working in groups with one person channelling energy until they needed to rest, than the next would take their place. Creating the runes would be the hardest part. One would be at the very heart of the city, four more would be placed several miles away in each direction. If there was a single flaw in them they might simply not work, they might not work as efficiently, they could release a wave of dangerous energy, or they could explode destroying everything for several hundred yards.

Von, who was officially in charge of the group and Keir, was the first to speak. “These runes look a little like amplification runes, but they're on an entirely different level. Something of this size has never been tried before.”

Doing his best to look reassuring and cooperative, Keir answered. “They work. I did this ritual once before, it went according to plan.”

“How large of an area did you experiment on?”

“It was a battlefield, covering about one hundred yards where the worst fighting had taken place,” he admitted.

The assembled mages suddenly looked uncomfortable. Von raised his good hand, stopping any comments. “This seems like a very risky plan. We have what we came for, that should be enough.”

“How many demons do you think will arrive over the winter?”

“That's impossible to tell. We don't have good intelligence of what's going on more than a few days away.”

“With all due respect, Mage Von, we both know what is going to happen. According to everything I've read, and everyone I've talked to, the demons will assemble an overwhelming force, possibly with new demons we have never seen before and flow over this region like a flood. Even creating as many ghosts as I can every day, we won't have a force capable of stopping them. The basic ghost is too weak and simple. Trying to make stronger ones as I have been will mean we don't have enough to stop the demons.”

He looked at Von daring him to contradict him. There was only uncomfortable silence. “Here and now we have an opportunity to create an army of powerful dead that can properly meet and challenge them. We won't get another chance unless you can point me at another major city that was recently turned into a charnel house.”

“You're sure this won't backfire?” Von asked.

“Tomorrow I will go out with you and any mages you desire to personally prepare the runes. That will take the entire day because I will be triple checking everything, and expect you to do the same. Unless we all prove to be utterly incompetent, the worst that should happen is the ritual doesn't work or isn't as effective as it should be.”

There was short pause as Von looked over the papers again. Finally the mage nodded. “Very well. We'll head out just after dawn.”

“There is one important detail you should all know now, everyone will be told tomorrow, but it's very important for you,” Keir said, looking each of the mages in the eye. “When the ritual starts, do not wander out of the immediate area. There will be protective runes in place to protect you from the magical energy, and I already have runes being drawn around the camp and work areas. Anything outside of those areas could be very deadly. You'll have food, water, medicine and bedding, along with some soldiers to help you. Until the ritual is done on the night of the fourth day, do not leave the protected space. I don't know what will happen to you, but it probably won't be survivable.”

His audience, which had been looking nervous before, became paler and started going over their papers again.

It was late the next day when Keir placed the last rune on a thick stone wall in the north of the city. Jaris watched over his shoulder, consulting a piece of paper to make sure it was perfect. Finally the ghost nodded in satisfaction.

Leaning against the wall, careful not to touch the lightly etched rune, Keir allowed himself a few moments of weakness. The mental concentration of creating the runes, channelling just a trickle of his power into them, as he used his magic to weaken the stone so he could carve the rune into it, was exhausting. He'd been doing it since dawn, and the moon was rising in the sky as the sun disappeared.

“Sir,” Jaris said, “are you sure about this?”

The cool, gritty stone felt good against his skin. Taking a sip from his flask, he rinsed his mouth out, trying to get rid of the powdered rock that seemed to coat it. Spitting, he took another, larger drink of the lukewarm water and swallowed. “It's the only way. Anything else I do will merely slow the demons down. The hatred, anger and energy here is beyond almost anything I've felt before.”

The ghost's eyes narrowed as he realized just how much more dangerous the ritual was than he'd previously thought. “Just how do you think you'll control it, once you've given this hate and anger a body?”

Looking around, he saw Von was sitting on his horse, drinking some painkiller for his wound. The other mages were looking over the central and most important rune. None were close enough to hear. Keir smiled at his ghost. “I won't.”

“Are you insane!” Jaris hissed.

“No. I'm going to raise this entire city as the maddened dead, who only have one goal, killing the demons that slaughtered them and left them in agony. I'll make sure I control a few thousand of them, but over a hundred thousand monsters will sweep this region clean and attack any demons that try to come near us.”

“Keir, this is beyond foolish. This is the type of horror story your enemies claimed you were doing. How do you know these mad monsters will only attack demons.”

Waving his hand at the dead city, Keir snarled. “Look around. You see what the demons have done, there is almost no one left. This isn't a war for territory, or dominance. It's a war to the death. Either the demons die, or we do. I'll be able to keep the dead from attacking us long enough to get back to our base. After that, they can kill anything that moves, and it won't matter because anyone left alive within five hundred miles is with us.”

“Did dying remove your senses. This is a plan that could all too easily go out of control, or destroy what trust your allies have in you.”

“They don't trust me. Most of my so-called allies have me leashed like a dog, doing their bidding. The ones who will follow me, are zealots thinking I'm a chosen one here to lead them to glory and salvation. If I fail, I don't even want to imagine what they'll do to me.

“I'm desperate. Every night I dream of my past, reliving the worst moments of my life. And then I wake up and wonder if I've been cast into the Abyss for my sins. I have a general who only keeps fighting so he can kill as many demons as he can before dying. There are a few thousand soldiers and workers, nowhere to fall back to, no way to build new weapons or supplies, and an overwhelming enemy I can't understand that has decided I'm a true threat. What am I supposed to do?”

His old servant didn't shrink away from his outburst. “I expect you to think and plan, like you normally do. Remember what happened when you last let your emotions get the best of you? It restarted the War of the Dead, and ended with your death.”

“Only because I wasn't hard enough.”

The sound of horse hooves striking the paved street gave Keir enough warning to hide the anger that filled him.

“Is everything OK?” Von asked.

“Yes, Jaris and I were just discussing the ritual. He's a bit nervous that something could go wrong,” Keir said.

“You're sure this will work?”

"Of course. If I wasn't I wouldn't risk it,” Keir replied, smiling confidently.

Jaris nodded in agreement, his pale face revealing nothing.

“Very well, lets get back to camp,” Von said.

___

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

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, look at background info, see snippets of potential stories, and have a chance to choose what I write next, you can support me on my Patreon page.

Keir knelt on a cushion surrounded by runes carved into the asphalt. Most of them where fairly ordinary, similar to ones commonly placed on weapons, tools and buildings. Others were far more complicated, done in a pattern that was so detailed and intricate it was nearly impossible to follow.

Around him stood three mages, including Von, ready to donate their power to him one after the other. They'd be resting in shifts so they'd be able to continue for the four day ritual. While only one of them was needed at the moment, all of them wanted to see how the ritual worked. Past them stood a ring of dead guards, keeping the curious onlookers well back.

Ropes, some made from old cloth when they ran out of proper hemp ones, hung around the camp, marking out the safe areas. Guards stood near them, ready to warn anyone who was foolish enough to risk the magical energy that would soon fill the city.

With his eyes closed, Keir reached out for the magic. The necromantic energy was overpowering. It swept around him like a hurricane, battering his soul. Worse than the sheer force was the pain and rage that filled it. Few people died happily, most fought to live with all their power. Necromancy was not for the weak willed. Every time he touched the dark magic he felt the struggle to survive, the anger, sorrow, and fear.

Sometimes he wondered what it was like to be able to properly handle healing magic. He'd been told it was warm and comforting, and as powerful as his own necromancy in its own way. Usually it was an idle thought, easily pushed aside. He was so used to necromancy the tiny emotional discomfort was less than nothing.

Now, he was worried it could overpower him.

Opening his eyes, he could barely see through the darkness. Faces rose in the magical energy, screaming, shouting, crying, howling, and begging. Hands reached out for him, passing through his body, leaving only a sense of coldness.

Raising his hands he grabbed hold of the energy, channelling it through his body, taking control of the wild, uncontrolled power. His movement and thoughts wove it into shape, turning it into tools he could use.

Weaving a strand through the simpler runes, the amplifiers began to absorb the surrounding energy. The strand grew in size going from a slender thread to a rope as thick as his wrist. Over several minutes it continued to grow until was as thick around as his waist.

Sweat beaded up on his brow. Moving the energy was difficult, usually his magic was like a thin net, easy to control as long as he cast his mind wide enough to control the edges. This was more like trying to control a bucking horse, it moved in violent, unintended ways, trying to break free.

He forced it into the complicated runes. The mystic symbols helped tame the energy, channelling it into the proper forms. Ribbons of blackness rose into the sky, flowing towards matching runes to the north, east, south and west.

As they stabilized, he watched the necromantic magic filling the city begin to rise up, flowing into the ribbons of energy. Moaning, wailing and screaming figures were dragged from the streets. Their bodies torn apart piece by piece, becoming part of the ceremony.

Keir reached for a flask, taking a long drink, sweat dripped from his face, soaking his chest and lap. He allowed himself a few minutes to rest. Then he began chanting softly, gently shaping the magic into his desired form.

He felt Von's own magic added to his. It was only a trickle of power but it helped to relieve the strain. With water and power he would keep chanting for the four days. He wondered if his new body could handle the strain.

Watching the necromancer work, Mirek felt a stab of pain in his chest. He should be used to it by now. His lover Toshka was gone. There was nothing of the loving girl who had been devoted to her family in the person who now controlled her body.

The soldiers and workers from the fort were quick to praise the mage. Claiming that Mage Keira had saved them all with her army of dead and fighting skills. For all Mirek knew, it was true. But he knew the stories, the necromancer only cared for himself, butchering cities, enslaving people, and slaughtering anyone who opposed him, creating eternal torture chambers for their souls.

He'd tried his best to look for something within the necromancer that showed some humanity. He hadn't found anything. The necromancer was cold, watching the world with eyes that held no softness, no joy, no love. He was little better than the demons.

With his hand on his sword, he stood watch over one of the alleyways, making sure no one got too close. Despite his feelings, he had sworn to Toshka he would do his best to help the city. He hadn't been able to do much, but he'd helped keep alive a few dozen people. His hand tightened on the hilt of his sword. He should have gone with the refugees. He should have found some way to get named as one of the guards. If he had the girl he loved would still be alive.

The sound of squeaking brought him out of his melancholy thoughts. At first it was only a few frightened sounding rats, then it grew. From the alleys and streets that surrounded the camp hundreds, then thousands, than tens of thousands of vermin began screeching.

The animals came from the ruined houses and buildings, flooding the street, fleeing something they couldn't see.

They twitched and jump as if they were being stabbed. Then they started attacking each other, ripping into their neighbours, trying to stop the pain, fighting what they thought were their enemies.

Birds flew into the sky only to fall to the ground, screeching in agony. The rats, mice, weasels, and other vermin that filled the streets pounced on them in a maddened frenzy.

A few crazed animals ran towards Mirek. Runes flared to life and the vermin tumbled to a stop. They looked at him with hateful bloody eyes, then turned away and ran back into the mass of animals, ripping and tearing anything that got too close, even biting into their own flesh in the unthinking frenzy.

Turning away from the blood soaked, writhing mass of death that filled the alley, he looked to the necromancer. What monster had taken control of his lover?

How could the Mother and the Father allow this madness?

Sipping her cup of spinach and liver soup, Floria sat on a bench that had been set up close to the Regua. Her stitches itched, and standing was a challenge thanks to how much blood she'd lost, but she couldn't stay in bed any longer. She had her duty and all of her people were dead, so now it fell to her and her alone to guard their saviour.

She wasn't allowed to get too close, there was nowhere for her to sit in the ritual and standing for more than a few minutes was out of the question. So she watched from a distance as the sun set and she ate her soup that was supposed to help her body recover.

The growing darkness was pushed back by a large number of fires. The safe buildings were packed to the brim with people seeking a warm place to sleep where they didn't have to look at the sky. Those who couldn't fit in the building were huddled around the fires, staring into the flames, avoiding looking up. Or they were already in their tents huddled under blankets, praying to the Mother and the Father that they'd wake up in the morning.

A few of the priests and priestesses were speaking to their followers. Trying to keep the fear from building up and the weaker people from panicking. She couldn't make out what they were saying, and wasn't that interested. While she believed in the Mother and the Father, the Lleial followed Death, the god that truly ruled over all.

Looking up, she watched the black mist that had been building up throughout the day. It looked almost like a swarm of flies. That thought was quickly pushed away as her sight adjusted to the unnatural darkness. Instead of fading into the dark sky, the mist appeared to glow. The dark brightness made her eyes water.

After the vermin had killed themselves in an orgy of violence all around the camp, everyone was on edge. Most of the crowd that had watched the ritual at down had moved as far from the Regua as they could. Which was how Floria had found the comfortable bench to sit on along with many of the other Lleial who were in the camp and not working at the granaries or armouries.

They watched the Regua, who was barely visible behind her ghostly honour guard, lit up by the black light of the runes. She hadn't moved from her spot all day, she had only sipped her water and sat in seeming silence.

The relative quiet of the night was shattered as a building collapsed.

Floria almost jumped to her feet, stopping herself at the last second as a pain in her stomach reminded her that she was injured and ripping her stitches would be a bad idea.

Looking towards the noise she saw a building that was just outside of the protected area had crumbled. In the last light of sunset it looked like the bricks had turned to sand. It shuddered again and a cloud of dust rose from it, forming a dust devil that quickly rose into the sky. Where the building had been was a hole that had once been a basement, full of rock, metal and debris that was slowly turning to powder.

In the distance another building collapsed.

Smiling, Floria wondered what miracle the Regua was going to create when the ritual was done.

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

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, look at background info, see snippets of potential stories, and have a chance to choose what I write next, you can support me on my Patreon page.

Staring out over the city of Doko, the largest city on the sandy northern coast of Alkebulan, Grand General Ekon Bankole watched the fleet of armoured ships steam out of the harbour. Even after two years of watching them move without sails, he was amazed at the wondrous ships. Who would have dreamed that steam engines could work such miracles.

Machines powered by steam were made before the war. They were marvellous creations, beautifully crafted and each one a work of art. But to make them big enough to move an iron ship, it was the dream of mad inventors who struggled to find patrons that would put forward the incredible sums to make their dreams reality. The few steam engines that had been made were toys for the wealthy, a means to show off and make a scene. Real work was done in the tried and tested ways.

And then the demons had come.

Suddenly gold and silver was being spent on anything that would help push back the enemy of mankind. Treasuries were emptied and people taxed until they squealed, all to pay for the new war machines. As the continent of Erebu had fallen, they had created weapons of war few people could even have dreamed of a decade ago.

Who needed a ship of steam, when someone could be quickly trained to guide the wind? Horses, camels and elephants were good enough to carry goods where ships couldn't go. Pumping water from mines with magic was more efficient than steam. What possible need was there to move mountains worth of goods across the plains and deserts? If you needed to send more cargo by ship, just make more wooden ships. It was all so easy. Coal was better spent keeping people warm in winter and making steel.

But now anyone with a talent for magic, was being turned into a healer or soldier. Even people who could only learn one or two spells, who would have spent their lives pumping water, pulverizing stone, or twisting the air to keep ships moving, were now vital. They were conscripted and made to learn that the generals and admirals decided was important.

A steam train blew its damnable whistle. The monstrosity moved along the steel tracks, hauling in food, metal, wood, cloth and more, that the city needed to build more weapons of war and to feed the population. They kept his city alive, and he would use them, but he hated riding in them and the racket they made. He'd been a passenger in one over a decade ago, a frivolous toy made by one of the Silver Lords, to carry guests to his summer estate. It had made him so sick, he'd needed a healer to keep from vomiting.

Hot air balloons hovered in the hazy, stinking air, watching for any sign of demons. They were useless, the ships would spot any enemies long before they reached the city, but it made the people and rulers feel safer. As far as he was concerned, they were another blemish on the city he had loved in his youth. The city air, never very clean, was now an ugly brown. The forges that had once numbered in the hundreds, making Doko the factory of the continent, were now in the thousands. The clanging of metal went on throughout the day and night, never ceasing.

The streets were so full of people, it was impossible to see the pavement from his vantage point in the Ivory Citadel. Workers and soldiers moved like ants far below him. They had come from around the continent, drawn by the promise of work in the factories, and glory in the army. Millions of them had come from Erebu, packed onto ships, fleeing the demons. They'd been eager to work and train, on the promise of one day freeing their homes.

But that promise was in the past.

Now the city was preparing for war. In no more than five years the last part of Erebu would fall, and it would be a continent of demons. No one doubted where they would strike next. The continent of Alkebulan was a mere fifteen hundred miles south of Erebu, and the Bitter Sea was full of islands that would be easily overrun. Artillery batteries covered the coast, steel fleets were being built, new weapons of war were made, and an entire generation prepared to fight for their lives.

He wondered if the Almighty, who watched over the entirety of the cosmos, would turn his eyes to the world for a moment. The Mother and Father of Erebu had failed their people, if they even existed. Could the Creator of All do better?

As he pondered his heretical thoughts, which he would never dare to voice, Ekon felt something bitterly cold clutch at his heart. It passed in a moment, leaving him shivering and weak-kneed. Below him the streets still milled with people, everything seemed to be as it should.

“I'm getting old,” he muttered. “Or it's a sign I shouldn't think such thoughts.”

The door to his study burst open. High Mage Dakarai came rushing in, which was very out of character for the normally formal to a fault old man.“General Ekon,” the High Mage said, “prepare the defences immediately.”

“Why, are the demons moving?” Ekon asked.

“I don't know, but we must prepare for such a disaster. Something is happening in Erebu, a ritual of such power I've only felt something like it three times in the past, and it's using necromantic energy.”

For the second time that day, the Grand General felt his heart grow cold. Most of the people on the continent didn't have the same hatred for necromancy that Erebu had, but the dark magic was treated with great caution. No one in Erebu had the talent to use necromantic spells to any great extent. If they were feeling the twisting of energy so far away, the only ones capable of the ritual would be the demons.

“Have our people in Erebu said anything about this?”

Dakarai looked off into the distance for a moment. “The messenger corp is talking to our agents now. No one seems to know what's happening. Please wait a moment.”

Ekon turned back to the city, thinking of his upcoming orders. He needed more information before sending out commands. If he couldn't wait half an hour to prepare his thoughts and plans properly, the city was doomed anyways.

The sun looked more baleful than before. An angry eye glaring down at the world, cursing it for the sins of man. Rubbing his clean shaven scalp, he wondered how long the streets of Doko would remain free of blood and war. Every able bodied man, and quite a few of the women had rifles and training to use them. Children and women had been taught field medicine to care for the wounded. Massive earthworks surrounded the city, topped by massive artillery pieces that required crews of forty strong men to use, creating kill zones that would make any human army shake in fear. Those were protected by tens of thousands of rocket batteries, the inaccurate, oversized fireworks were still the best defense they had against the flying demons.

And if a miracle occurred it might prove to be enough.

Dakarai cleared his throat. “General, I might have an answer as to what happened. There are rumours among the highest levels that the dead Necromancer Emperor Keir has been brought back to life. It hasn't been publicly declared, and the Eldritch Council is only letting the highest officials know of it.”

“You are saying the folktales of the dread emperor waiting to recreate his empire, are true?” Ekon managed to keep the disbelief from his voice out of respect for his colleague, but it was hard.

“That is the rumour. It is hard to believe, but so were demons when we first heard of them. However it would explain the ritual. Either they're resurrecting him now, or he is risen and raising an army of the dead.”

“So we have two possibilities. The demons are using necromantic magic, or a boogeyman from folktales has come to plague the world again. Continue gathering any information you can on this and have a report for me tomorrow morning. I'll prepare a proper recon force for Erebu, whether its the demons, the necromancer or something else, we need to know. It appears the continent isn't as dead as we had thought.”

The massive, rune covered golem strode between the iron topped wooden rails, pulling the cars loaded with supplies for the front line behind it. Heavily armed soldiers sat on the rail cars, ready to shoot anyone who looked like they were going to pillage the vital cargo. A small cage on the golem's back held a shackled prisoner, a convicted murderer and rapist. The man had a small flask of water and a half loaf of bread, the only sustenance he would have until late in the evening.

Yellow Mage Aleksandar Stojanovski felt no sympathy for the man who powered the golem. The convict had been given a choice by the judge, power a golem, join a penal legion, or be sent to a work group. Out of all of them, powering the golem was the kindest fate, and he would probably survive to the end of his sentence. Well he'd survive until the demons overran the city and he was left behind. They could always find someone else to power the golem, prisoners weren't a priority.

The city of Mesim was overflowing with refugees. Many of them desperately poor, struggling and fighting to survive, there was no room for pity or forgiveness when anyone stepped out of line. With the front lines a mere fifty miles away, weakness, corruption and lawlessness could see everyone die and the last refuge on Erebu fall to the demons.

“How many of these golems do we have?” he asked the quartermaster.

“Sixty-three. We're hoping to get another ten this week,” the man said, only half paying attention. He held a ledger in a clamp that had replaced his missing left hand, and was marking something down.

“And how effective are they?”

“If we had them five years ago, we might have won the war. Each one pulls about 90 tons, and can reach the front and return in less than a day. Give me five hundred of them and I'll have the soldiers drowning in shells and food.”

Aleksandar smiled thinly, the golems were working as expected. They weren't as good as the steam trains they were making on other continents, being slower and pulling less, and it took weeks to make a single one. However they didn't need coal or steel, all of which was in very short supply.

“We're ramping up production as quickly as we can,” he said. “The best I can promise you is another fifty by late Spring. Everyone is demanding as many as they can get.”

“Well I'll keep doing what I can with horses and oxen, but the soldiers are crying out for bullets and bread and I can't work miracles.”

“I understand, and in my report I'll make sure to emphasize what you have done.”

He was thinking about what to look at next for his report on how the new magi-tech was working in regards to the war effort, when he felt his soul tremble. Freezing cold fingers gripped his heart.

Falling to his knees as his muscles turned to water. Aleksandar grabbed his ears, trying to block out the screams filling his mind. Without conscious thought, his vision shifted showing the magic that filled the air. Dark necromantic energy roiled and coalesced into pitch black blobs, then exploded into millions of droplets, fading away as if they never existed.

“Mage Aleksander, are you alright?” the quartermaster asked.

“No,” he muttered. “Did you feel that?”

“I felt a slight chill, but that was all?”

“I don't know.” Getting to his feet, he wracked his brain, trying to gain some inkling of what just happened.

An hour later Aleksander was resting in his temporary quarters. No one seemed to know anything about the strange occurrence, just that it had happened all across the city. He wondered if it was some new trick by the demons.

There was a knock on the door. Aleksander opened it, wondering who would be visiting him at the odd hour. A messenger in the white livery of the Eldritch Council stepped inside without so much as a hello.

“Close the door,” the man said.

Unused to a servant treating him so brusquely, Aleksander did so and prepared a suitable tongue lashing. Then his voice caught in his throat. The messenger had turned into a woman, wearing the red robes of a high level Eldritch Council Mage.

His eyes fell on the glittering badge of office that was hard to copy, and was a death sentence for anyone foolish enough to wear it without permission. Years of training pushed away his surprise. Bowing his head, he waited for the mage to speak, ready to carry out whatever order she demanded.

“Mage Aleksander,” she said, “this evening at eight, you are going to board the steam ship Hope. You will arrive at the city of Argento in three days, where you will be advanced to the rank of Blue. You will be met by agents of the Council, and travel across Uzak Pass to Desolation Fort. You are to give us a full report of everything you see and hear.”

The orders were so sudden, he found his mind reeling. “I will obey, but it will be winter soon. Travelling over the pass will be nearly impossible.”

“You'll have fresh mounts each day, and dog sleds will be prepared if necessary. Time is of the essence.”

“May I ask why I am going there? I thought it was overrun by demons months ago.”

“The Necromancer has been resurrected by order of the Council. The Mage Von Asger who is supposed to be watching the Necromancer was recently hurt. There is now some doubt that he is still in control. Your attention to detail will let you see the situation clearly, and your new rank will allow you to control the Necromancer,” the Red Mage said.

Dots began connecting. “The strange event an hour ago, that was the Necromancer performing a ritual.”

“It was. You'll have a report to read on the ship. Memorize it and burn the papers. In Argento you will have a full briefing before you set out. Start packing and do not tell anyone about this. Your colleagues are being told that you have been reassigned to an important post in Uva Isulana. Do you have any questions?”

“No, I will obey,” he said.

She nodded once. The illusion of the male messenger covered her once more and she left without another word.

Looking at the clock, he realized there was only three hours to pack, eat and get to the ship. Pushing down the growing sense of dread, he got to work.

The demons fell back in confusion from the human forces that stormed out of the trenches. Rapid fire pneumatic guns peppered the demons as they fled. Air fed cannons threw polished stones that tore through dozens of the beasts, while other cannons tossed gas canisters to herd the enemy into kill zones, and keep them away from the soldiers. A handful of explosive shells were used to destroy the largest groups. But not many, they were hard to make for the beleaguered city, and needed to be conserved.

Elder Sister Otillie watched the battle from the safety of the Crystal Castle. Her limited magical skills magnifying the view so she could see what was happening. She watched the work crews follow the soldiers, collecting demon bodies for desperately needed food, and combing the ground for silver and lead that could be turned once more into bullets.

After two years of being cut off from other cities and towns, every scrap of metal, wood and food was vital to Cristel Fleche. Every statue in the city had been melted down and turned into guns, pneumatic pumps, or bullets. The old silver mines that had been left to rot after they had been mined out were back in service, with miners desperately digging out any bits of metal they could find. The river leading into the Crystal Mountain Range was a bloody, murderous land of demons and desperate humans. The humans hid in the thousands of caves and mines that riddled the mountains, coming out for food, and to trade what they could harvest with the city in exchange for weapons.

Two years of desperation, heroism, and bloody fighting, and it was only pushing back the inevitable. Looking at the setting sun, Otillie whispered, “What have we done to earn your scorn, Mother?”

There was no answer.

There never was. She'd prayed for guidance as the demons advanced. There had been none. When the demons besieged the city, she'd prayed for rescue. There had been none. When demon assassins had slaughtered the leaders and most of the mages, forcing her into her current position, she'd prayed for support. There had been none. When disease had killed tens of thousands and the city had nearly fallen, she'd prayed for a sign that they hadn't been forsaken. There had been none.

Now she spoke the words for the faithful. She made sure the clergy cast their protective prayers over the city. She acted the part of a High Priestess, but she was no longer a believer. All she cared about was keeping her people alive for one more day, one more hour. Nothing else mattered.

“Elder Sister,” a servant said, “the council meeting is about to begin.”

She nodded in acknowledgement. Leaving the balcony she made her way to the council chamber, doing her best to look serene. She was supposed to be the calm caretaker of the people, it wouldn't do to show the despair she was feeling. Entering the chamber, she saw she was the last person to arrive. She took her seat beside the Lord Mayor, Julius Visage.

The Lord Mayor was self appointed. He had been the captain of the guard, a largely ceremonial position that led the city militia. When the previous council and military leaders had been slaughtered by shadows a month into the siege, he had taken control. Using ruthlessness, brutality and military cunning, he had enforced the rule of law, quelled the riots that had broken out and pushed the demons back. But it had aged him. He was only forty-six years of age, but his once thick, black hair was thinning and grey, wrinkles lined his face, and his blue eyes were as cold and unforgiving as the glaciers that gave the Crystal Mountain Range its name.

“The council meeting is now in session,” Julius declared, tapping the table with the silver mace that was the symbol of his office. “First order of business, has everyone heard the report on the event that happened early today?”

Everyone nodded. It had been impossible to ignore, even the least magically talented people had felt the necromantic energy pass through them.

“Good. Mage Oliver Mathias has more to add to it.”

Mathias stood, his yellow robes were old and becoming threadbare. Replacement cloth and dye was almost impossible to find in the city. The young man took several moments to look over his papers, still nervous and unsure of himself. Otillie felt sorry for him, he only held the position because every other mage was too busy and Mathias was good at paperwork.

“Ah, we now know where the ritual occurred. And we are fairly certain the demons didn't do it, because when it occurred it made them panic. They're still acting afraid. So it has to be something they didn't expect and don't like,” Mathias said, his accent was almost non-existent after spending so many years in Cristel Fleche, but it was still possible to tell he was a foreigner to the city.

Julius sighed. “Very good. Now where did the ritual occur and do you know what it was for?”

“Right, yes. The ritual likely happened near the city of Kodor. It would help if we could triangulate things more, but the lines of force all point in that general direction and that city is closest to where they connect.”

“Kodor, why does that name seem familiar?” the Lord Mayor asked.

“It's near the resting place of the Necromancer,” Otillie said.

“Yes. Yes it is. And the ritual seems to be necromantic in nature. So it could be the Necromancer has been resurrected and that's what we're sensing,” Mathias said.

“Or he has already risen,” she mused.

“What?” Julius asked.

“The demons have been acting strangely for weeks. They sent many of their kind away, they haven't attacked in force for three weeks, and now they're acting terrified. Why are they doing it? Maybe someone raised the Necromancer and he has given them a firm beating. With the amount of energy being used, maybe they expect something terrifying to happen to them.” Otillie didn't know if her thoughts were accurate, but she was good at coming up with odd ideas that helped make others think.

“Even if that is true,” the treasurer said, “we have no way of confirming it.”

The mood dampened. With the death of so many mages, they had no way to send a message anywhere. They were all alone, except for the refugees hiding in the mountains, and if those poor souls tried to leave their tunnels and alpine forests, they'd be slaughtered.

“What of the airship?” Julius asked.

“She'll fly,” Louis Bardot, spokesman of the Engineers Union, said. “We'll want to do some more tests. We'll also need a month to put on the armour sheathe, so the demons can't tear apart the gas bags. But once that's done she'll be as ready as she'll ever be.”

Julius tapped the table once more. “We've held off on the airship because we haven't had anywhere to send her that could send help. Now we have a location to send her. We don't know what that ritual was, but it scared the demons, it might be able to help us. As Lord Mayor, I declare that in forty days The Thorn will fly to the city of Kodor, seeking help. Who supports me?”

Every hand was raised in agreement.

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

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, look at background info, see snippets of potential stories, and have a chance to choose what I write next, you can support me on my Patreon page.

The small pack of demons didn't want to go towards the city. They saw the buildings collapsing, smelled the rot that spread out like a miasma across the land, heard the unending death cries of the damned, and felt the cold touch of death deep in their bones. Every instinct they had told them the dead city was dangerous. Yet they moved towards it, just like hundreds of others of their kind, the voice in their head commanded it, and it could not be disobeyed.

Scrambling through the muddy craters and trenches, they reached the shattered earthworks that marked the edge of the city. Their skin itched, the chill in their bones grew worse. They snapped and chittered at each other, unsure why they felt so strangely.

Creeping along the ground, they watched a crumbled building disintegrate into dust and fly up into the sky, adding to the glowing black cloud. Needles poked into their flesh. Wailing filled their ears.

Going further into the city, they found the streets perfectly clean. There was no dirt or debris on the hard surface. It looked and felt like the top layer of asphalt had been stripped away. Translucent, distorted faces watched them from the piles of rubble.

Huddled together, finding comfort in the touch of their pack mates, the demons pushed on. Limping as their feet began to burn. Whimpering as their hearts laboured to keep beating. Gasping as the air became thick and hard to breathe.

A pale, ghostly white figure came out of the shadows. It moved oddly, suddenly jerking forwards, only to stop as its limbs painfully contorted. Pitch black eyes stared at the demons through thick, messy hair.

Growling, the demons prepared to attacked.

Shadows, barely visible in the darkness that covered the city, stretched out of the open holes that had once been buildings. Tendrils of frost spread wherever they touched.

Seeing the shadows, the demons backed away from the unknown threats. They yelped and whined, their joints felt jagged, tearing their flesh with every move.

Pitch black birds with short, hooked beaks, and long pale arms under their wings soared out of the clouds. Their high pitch, childish laughs filled the air. Their sharp, white talons brushed against the demons skins, leaving long, thin cuts.

The demons cowered. Pain wracked their bodies. The bitter cold seemed to turn their bones to ice. They felt their lives being sucked away. They wanted to wail and scream, to call for help from their kin, but the air was too thick, it filled their lungs like water, choking them.

A bloated, sickly white hand rose out of a puddle of filthy water. It was followed by a rotting corpse, it's skin dangling from its body like an ill fitting, waterlogged coat. It vomited foul smelling, polluted water. Dead white eyes glared at the demons, as it crawled out of water that was only a few inches deep.

The dead of Kodor watched as the demons whimpered and writhed in agony. Their bodies and souls joining the growing cloud of death.

As the flesh and bones disintegrated and blew upwards in the wind, the dead made their way out of the damned city. Memories of warmth and food filled their minds. They would take both from the demons. And if there were no demons, there would be other living things, they could take the warmth and food from them as well.

For the tenth time in as many minutes Emer pushed her long red hair away from her eyes. Sweat dripped down her face falling onto her breasts, her stomach growled for food, she was itchy, and she just wanted to lie down and sleep. But she couldn't.

It was the third day of the ritual. She and her fellow mages had exhausted themselves powering the runes that surrounded them. two hours at a time, it didn't sound like much. On the first day it had been a little taxing, but it was only two hours, then they had eight hours to rest before doing it again. Clean up, eat and sleep, then power the runes once more.

But each time she had to kneel on the rune and open herself to the magic, it seemed to take a little more from her. She could feel the energy coming from the Necromancer, it flowed through her body. The pain, hatred and despair within it tainted her soul, filling her mind with the screams of the dead. Even when she slept the screams stayed with her.

The unnatural blackness that hung over her head howled in time with the screams. It was made of the same taint that clung to her. She refused to look at it. Certain that if she did, the death inside of her would tear itself free and rise up to meet it, taking her soul with it.

She wanted it to end, but not by dying. Not here.

If she died here, her soul would be in a place worse than the Abyss. At least in the Abyss she'd be torn apart as if she never existed. If she died in this cursed city, her soul would join the damned in the tainted cloud above. She would be turned into one of the monsters, roaming the land, screaming for blood, in never ending torment.

The dead were watching them. They surrounded their little area of life and sanity. Children turned into monsters laughed and shouted, flying through the air on wings of death. Shadows moved along the ground, feasting on the light, leaving only darkness. And the soulless eyes of the wretched bodies that shouldn't be moving watched her, hungering for her.

Emer wanted to stop the ritual. She wanted to feel clean again. She wanted to crawl under her blanket and hide from the eyes that never blinked.

But if she did that, what would happen next?

Would the protective runes falter? Would the ritual go out of control and destroy everything? Would the ghosts go mad and break through the barrier. She didn't know. She didn't want to know.

Silently she continued to feed the ritual. Weeping as her soul became dirtier and more corrupted.

Sitting at the very edge of the safe area, Sagan watched the ghosts, searching for a face. He could hear her voice. His wife was calling for him. She was somewhere in the darkness, searching for him.

The laughter of the children echoed in his mind. Clutching his head he wished they would shut up. He couldn't hear his wife. He needed to find her. He'd left her alone once. He couldn't do that again. But there was no way for him to get past the crowd that surrounded the safe area. The tattered, bloated, moaning bodies were so thick he couldn't even see the road.

Why hadn't he died with her?

“Sagan?” his wife said.

Looking up he finally saw her. “Iva! I knew I'd find you here. That's why I came back. I never should have left you.”

She smiled, her beautiful blue eyes half hidden by her golden brown hair. “I knew you'd come back, and I forgive you. And look, you have a son.”

He broke into a grin, at the sight of the tiny baby boy. “He's wonderful,” Sagan sobbed.

“You should hold him my love. I'd been waiting until you returned to give him a name. Hold him and give our son a name,” Iva said.

“I can't step out there, come in here. It's safe in here.”

“I can't do that. I'm locked out. Can you let me in?” she asked. Her voice was enchanting, even better than he remembered. It sounded almost like she was singing.

The thought of holding his son filled his mind. He needed to let his family in. He needed to make sure they were safe. The rune was keeping them out. If he stopped the rune, they could come in.

Wandering back to the camp, he saw that almost everyone was asleep. Only the mage in the middle of the ritual area was awake, and he wasn't paying any attention, too busy weeping and covering his face. Sagan grabbed a sledge hammer they'd used earlier to help clear away some debris while setting up. That would work.

Iva and his child were waiting for him when he came back. His wife had the most beautiful smile in the world.

Swinging the sledgehammer over his shoulder, he brought it down on the rune. Cracks appeared in the pale blue surface. The light slowly faded away. Now he could be with his family.

Grinning he looked at his wife, holding his arms out to her and his son. A pale lady wearing a faceless wooden mask stood where Iva had been, she was carrying a ragged blanket full of sticks. Falling back in horror, he saw she had no feet. Then he was swarmed by the dead.

As they tore him apart, he heard the shrieks and screams of his living companions.

Through the haze of exhaustion Keir felt the flow of energy buckle and fade away. One of the ritual areas had fallen. He was too tired to tell which one it was, it didn't matter. Reaching out with his mind, he grabbed the loose energy, wrestling it back under his control.

He wouldn't let the ritual fail.

He was Emperor Keir, the most powerful mage to have ever lived. He'd bent a continent to his will. He would not fail.

Ignoring the pain that flared in his mind, he forced the magic that filled the city to obey him.

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

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, look at background info, see snippets of potential stories, and have a chance to choose what I write next, you can support me on my Patreon page.

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.

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, look at background info, see snippets of potential stories, and have a chance to choose what I write next, you can support me on my Patreon page.

The first snow of winter was falling as the New Undying Army reached Hanged Man's Pass. Soon enough the area would be buried, making travel impossible. It would be a time of preparation for the new era of war.

From his perch in the lead wagon, Keir smiled at what he saw. The fortifications had progressed well. There were even more trenches, walls, and bunkers for the defenders. The forest had vanished replaced by a massive kill zone with no cover except for shell holes. Soldiers were being drilled in marching, fighting as a unit, retreating under fire, and everything else that was essential for survival.

With the arrival of food, supplies, weapons and ammunition, this would be a good place to wait out the winter. The desperate battle that had marked his rebirth would be almost impossible now. With the horde of dead scouring the region, combined with the many scouts, they would whittle away at any demon army, sapping it's strength before it could reach this place. The monsters would need an army in the hundreds of thousands, or more likely the millions to succeed.

The army of dead that followed behind the column of wagons, formed mostly orderly ranks in the kill zone. Living officers in charge of them made sure they were out of the way until the higher ups could find the best places to put them. Keir was happy enough to step aside and let them deal with the defences, he preferred being on the offence. He also had much more important things to do, such as studying his new dead warriors, as well as focusing his time on teaching the new necromancers.

Soldiers cheered as the wagons rolled past, carefully navigating the defences. The food wagons loaded almost to the breaking point with grain, vegetables, flour and dried goods, were particularly welcome. The tons of bullets, guns, and even shells were reason to celebrate as well. And no one turned their noses up at the blankets, medicine, cloth, tools and kegs full of nails. The winter would be lean and hard, but now they would survive it.

Hope had returned.

Keir was once more in his chamber, grateful to have some time away from the public. His muscles ached from the journey and the long ritual. The body he had now, wasn't accustomed to the physical ordeals he had once found commonplace. He wondered if it ever would be. Still he had things to do and little time. So at the moment he was standing naked with his arms held out and his legs spread.

His three maids were bustling around him, taking measurements for a new winter wardrobe. It was too cold to rely solely on shadow cloth, and now that they had cloth and thread to work with, they insisted on giving him clothes worthy of his station. At least on that, they were in complete agreement about. Jaris was standing nearby, looking out the window, while Adria cast nasty looks at him, her wrinkled face twisted into a scowl.

“Adria, stop glaring at Jaris. He has seen me naked many times,” Keir said.

“That may be, Regua, but he should not see you naked now,” the old woman said.

“I'm in agreement with her, sir,” Jaris said. “You were not so comely when I last served you.”

“I lived over sixty years as a man. A few weeks in the body of a woman doesn't make me one,” Keir snapped.

“Then why does almost everyone except Mage Von, call you Mage Keira, sir?”

“It's easier, and I have more important things to deal with.” Hoping that the topic was dealt with, he went to put on his robe. His stomach ached and he was tired enough that he dropped into his desk chair. He regretted it almost instantly as his breasts bounced painfully. Glaring down at the useless things, he wondered how something so small could hurt from a little jostling.

While the maids began working on the undergarments, cutting seams and preparing to stitch them back together to properly fit his figure, he started his own work. Mentally he summoned one of the child ghosts he'd decided to call Strix, after a monster from folklore that looked a little similar.

High pitched laughter announced the ghosts arrival, seconds before it landed on the window sill. It's pitch black eyes were somehow darker than the black feathers that were as dark as a tomb. Looking at the thing was akin to looking at the endless abyss where the worst sinners were cast to fade into nothingness.

Taking up his fountain pen, Keir began writing down the physical features of the ghost, sparing no details. He even pulled out one of the feathers, counting down the seconds until the shadowy substance faded into nothingness.

His stomach clenched in a painful cramp, making him smear his letters. Cursing, he turned to his maids. “Adria, make me some tea,” he snapped.

Turning back to the ghost, he shifted his sight to see magic. Through long practice, he began drawing the lines of energy on a clean sheet of paper. The tight weave was unlike anything he'd ever seen. It somehow wove death and air into a type of net, with a trace of life trapped at it's heart.

Normally death and life energy didn't mix, one would be stronger and cast the other out. Very gently he pushed through the lines of energy, careful to not break any of them, trying to understand how this worked. With painstaking effort, he slowly looked over the innermost weave and had to admire the work.

The green energy of life was cradled in a matrix of air, protected from the overpowering darkness. It wouldn't be easy replicating the weave, it would take days or weeks of intense study just to properly trace it out, much less create his own version. But it was possible.

Leaning back in his chair, he shifted his vision back. A cup of tea was on the far edge of the desk waiting for him. Gratefully he took a sip, his mouth was dry and sticky after his work. He spit it out a second later, it was cold and bitter.

“Adria! I wanted a decent cup of tea, not this swill.”

The old woman bowed her head. “I'm sorry Regua. I'll get you another.”

Jaris floated over to the desk, as the maid hurried away. “That's actually the second cup of tea she prepared. You were too distracted to drink either of them.”

“I wasn't that-” He stopped himself as his eyes went to the clock. He'd been working for over two hours.

Now that he wasn't so focused on his work, his stomach twisted, making him grimace. He hoped he wasn't coming down with an illness, but it would probably be a good idea to call for a healer.

“Are you in pain, sir?” Jaris asked.

“My stomach has been giving me trouble. It's not helping my mood.”

He noticed his two young maids looking at each other, a knowing look on their faces, before returning to their sewing. He opened his mouth to bark at them to mind their own affairs, when he realized they hadn't done anything to warrant his anger. Forcing his temper back, Keir asked, “Do either of you know why I feel like this?”

Elia, the older maid, bowed her head. “Regua, is your stomach cramping, your breasts sore, swelling in your belly or breasts, back pain, or tiredness?”

“I have the upset stomach, soreness and I'm tired. What is it?”

She suddenly looked unsure of herself, but after a moment said, “I believe you're menstruating, Regua.”

He noticed that Jaris was looking out the window again, clearly something very interesting was occurring out there from the way the ghost was staring so intensely outside. Rubbing his temples, Keir realized he should have expected this. He'd had many wives, lovers and daughters in his past life. He'd also worked with some women who had suffered through their menstruation using spells and medicines to deal with the pain.

But he'd never expected to deal with it himself.

Standing up, he pulled off his robe and was relieved that at least he wasn't bleeding yet. Putting it back on, he turned to his maids. Keeping his annoyance under tight control, he said, “I'm not experienced with this. If you would be so kind as to walk me through what I need to do, I would be very grateful.”

“Of course, Regua,” Elia said.

“Sir,” Jaris said, “if you don't mind I'd prefer to wait outside by the door.”

“Of course, Jaris. I don't think either of us want to hear this.” He managed to smile at his poor joke. Sitting back down, he prepared himself to learn about something he'd never had any desire to know.

Sitting by a fire, Mirek tried to find a reason to stay alive as people celebrated around him.

Riders had been sent ahead of the caravan with the names of survivors from the city, so that any family or friends who had survived could greet them. The singing, cheering and drinking of the impromptu festival was as much for the happy reunions as the food and supplies.

There was no one there to greet him.

Toshka was gone, her body taken by the Necromancer. And his brothers, Luka and Brina were buried in a mass grave, victims of the same flu that had killed his beloved. He didn't even know what pit they'd been buried in.

Holding his battered sword in his hands, he thought about using it on himself. At least he'd be reunited with his family and Toshka for a time before returning to the world. If there was a world to return too by then. All too likely it would be overrun by demons and the dead.

The flames reminded him of a story he'd read as a boy, before the demons had arrived. He couldn't remember most of it, even though he'd  memorized it and had recited it at school. He'd been told he could be a poet or a writer one day if he practised. But then the war came, and the need for stories and poems had ended, all his focus had turned to fighting.

The story was the last day of the city Fluss, before it was conquered and sacked by northern barbarians. The citizens of Fluss knew they were going to die. Their army had been defeated and slaughtered. The barbarians had sworn to their gods that they would slaughter the men and children, and take the women for their bed slaves. There was no hope for the citizens.

So the wounded and old men, the women and children. had armed themselves with what weapons remained and manned the walls. The city fell, but the enemy gained nothing from it but rubble and death. A single child survived, knocked out in the fighting and lost in the rubble. The barbarians offered him a place in their ranks for his bravery.

The child took the offered blade and ran the leader through the heart.

Looking at the Keep where the Necromancer worked to raise more unholy monstrosity, Mirek made a vow. The body of Toshka would be put to rest before he died.

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

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, look at background info, see snippets of potential stories, and have a chance to choose what I write next, you can support me on my Patreon page.

Aleksandar desperately wanted to sleep. He'd travelled nearly non-stop ever since landing in the coastal city of Argento, changing horses every ten miles, and only stopping for a few hours when it was too dark to travel. His thighs and backside were chaffed and stiff, and he could barely walk without assistance. Now at the Uzak Pass Fort, he hoped he'd be able to rest in a proper bed for the night.

With the help of a servant he took a seat in a plain office, unsure who he was supposed to meet or what new torture the Eldritch Council was preparing for him. At least there was a bowl of warm soup and a steaming cup of tea set out. Sending a silent prayer of thanks to the Mother and Father, he dug in.

The door opened and a harried looking man wearing stained red robes entered the office. Aleksandar struggled to stand, only to be waved back down.

“Sit, finish your soup,” the man said. “You've had a long journey and it's going to get worse.”

“Thank you, Mage?” he asked, slumping back down. Then the words hit him, “Wait... worse?”

“I'm Mage Elias. And yes, worse. Weather reports from over the mountains say a blizzard is forming, It should hit the pass in three to four days.”

“It takes five days to get through the pass,” Aleksandar said, a cold dread creeping up his spine.

“If you travel normally it will. Fortunately it's snowed several times in the last week. We've prepared a dog sled for you. The dogs and their handler know the pass well, and I sent out several teams ahead of you, to relay you to the recon camp at the end of the pass. You won't be able to rest like you undoubtedly hoped, but you'll be riding in relative comfort in the sled.”

“If I may ask, why am I being sent in such a rush? I'm a researcher, I was just reporting on the new magitech and it's use for the war effort. I'm not a soldier, or a diplomat. Surely someone better suited can be found to deal with the Necromancer.” Too late he realized what he was saying. He wasn't supposed to question his task, too much was at stake. You did your job as best you could, it was the only way to survive against the demons.

Mage Elias didn't seem angry at his question, he actually smiled. “What exactly did you get told?”

“Truthfully, almost nothing. Just that Necromancer Keir was revived, and Mage Von was injured. Now the Council is unsure if he is fit to ensure the Necromancer is properly controlled.”

The red mage rubbed his brow. “Bloody idiots, keeping everything so tightly bound down we can't do our jobs.”

Aleksandar looked down at the dregs of his soup, pretending not to hear the remarks. For a lower level mage, such talk would ensure they never advanced again, and quite likely would be given the worst assignments possible.

“Here is the truth. Von revived the Necromancer without permission. In fact he was explicitly told to destroy the Heart, annihilate the corpse, and collapse the entire cavern system. He disobeyed orders, and raised the bastard.”

“Why wasn't he stopped?”

“Because he's in demon territory, and at the time he was surrounded by an army of demons. He also pretended to be following orders until the very last minute when he lied to the mages under him and broke every single command we'd given him. Compounding his traitorous actions, he did not properly lock down the Necromancer. Instead of using the safeguards we spent three centuries developing, which wouldn't let Keir breathe without our permission, he used the bare minimum of them. And I believe he wouldn't have even done that if he could have convinced the other mages.

“Now we have to act like we planned this all along, and Von has our complete support. The Necromancer seems to be playing along for now. And if the reports are accurate, an army of the dead is sweeping the region clean of demons.”

“The Necromancer has that much power?”

“Apparently. Recon reports had the demons scouring the area near the pass up until two week ago, preparing for a spring offensive. Now, there seems to only be a few dozen nestlings that are confused and scared. So we need someone who is clever and good at observing, to see what in the Abyss is going on over there. You fit the bill. It helps that you aren't very threatening. Your orders to act as a liaison between the Necromancer and the Council fits you nicely and is completely accurate.”

Closing his eyes, Aleksandar wished he was anywhere else. Fighting in the front lines seemed safer than the task he was being given. “What if I discover the Necromancer is not following the Council wishes?”

“You're a Blue Mage now, you can order Keir to do anything you wish and he'll have to obey you. Do not abuse this, do not give him any reason to think you're a threat. If you want him to do anything, ask politely and formally. If you believe the Necromancer is a threat or you are given orders by the Council, request to talk to him alone and order him to kill himself, have a pistol or knife at the ready when you do.”

It took him a moment to comprehend what he was being ordered to do. He'd never killed anything larger than a fly and blood made him nauseous . It was why he hadn't train to be a soldier or medic. He'd learned to serve humanity in his own way. Now he was to be an assassin.

Sitting up straight, he looked the Red Mage in the eye and nodded. “Of course, I'll do my duty.”

“I know you will. You have an hour to wash and change, then you'll be heading out. You can sleep in the sled.”

The tent was bitterly cold, with only a single braziers providing heat for the teacher, Elder Leo, and the priestess Kaja. The students were sitting at their benches with their thin black robes of shadow cloth, which gave them almost no protection from the elements. Yet none of them were shivering. A few rubbed their arms and hands trying to warm them up, but from the look of things it was a mild discomfort at worst.

Keir nodded in satisfaction. The children and teenagers were learning about as fast as he had hoped, able to see magic and weave it to create simple spells. Now for the first time they were learning necromancy. They wouldn't be able to raise the dead for several months, instead they were learning how to alter ghosts.

Each child was trying to change the weave of the guardian spirit, Keir had given them upon being accepted as a student. This would transform the shade from a faceless shadowy ghost, into something more personalized and useful.

The younger children mostly worked on giving their spirits faces, colour, and expressions. The youngest one had managed to make a maternal looking figure in a yellow dress, with a friendly smile. Another had made theirs smaller and more childlike, with big brown eyes and a sling shot.

He moved to the back row where the older students were working. Katalia, the angry girl, was using her hands to help her mold the spirit into shape. She wasn't trying to make hers more human-like, she was creating a weapon. Long blades had replaced the ghost's forearms, and it was much bulkier with thick tree trunk like legs and no head.

“What will you do if you need it to pick something up?” Keir asked.

“It's meant to kill, not carry, Mistress,” Katalia replied.

“This is to be your servant and your guard, not a killing machine for slaughtering your enemy. What if you're injured and need to be carried to safety? Or something is grappling you, and stabbing it will likely cut you as well, what then?”

“I-” she closed her mouth, biting back whatever she had been about to say. “You're right, Mistress. I hadn't thought of that.”

He nodded and patted her on the shoulder. “You're skill with weaving magic is coming along nicely. Try to rebuild the hands with as much detail as possible, and consider giving it claws rather than nails.”

“Yes, Mistress.” The girl didn't smile, he had never seen her smile, but the anger that filled the girls eyes seemed to lessen somewhat.

Going to the next student, Armen, Keir nodded in appreciation at the fiery ghost that greeted him. He'd always enjoyed seeing how necromancy and fire could work together, and this was why. The appearance of the shade hadn't changed, faceless, robed, with no details or features to distinguish it. But now pale blue flames surrounded it like an aura. Reaching out, he could feel a pleasant warmth radiating off of it.

“Can you make it burn?” Keir asked.

“Yes, Mistress,” Armen said.

“Show me.”

“Burn,” the boy ordered.

For a few seconds the flames leaped into the air, and it took all his willpower to not jump back. Keir still pulled his hand away before it burned. Then the fire died down again, leaving his skin feeling hot and dry. He smiled at the student, impressed with the show.

“Excellent work.” Turning away he said, “Jaris, come here.”

His faithful assistant appeared out of thin air, making several students jump in surprise. “Yes, ma'am?”

“Give Armen some advice on how to make the flames last longer and burn hotter.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Jaris said.

Moving on, he came to the lame boy, Blau. The former scout was struggling to alter his ghost. There seemed to be a sword attached to the waist, but it was malformed and couldn't come out.

“What are you doing, boy?” Keir asked, his voice harsh.

“I'm trying to give the ghost a sword, Re- Mistress,” the boy replied.

“How long have you been working on it?”

“Since yesterday, Mistress.”

“And this is all you've accomplished?”

“Yes, Mistress.” The boy's voice was flat, purposefully devoid of all emotion to hide the anger and shame he had to be feeling.

“Have you seen the ghosts I've created?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what, boy?” he demanded. He was pushing Blau hard, either the boy would break, or he'd use the anger to improve. Keir was fairly sure he knew how it would go.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Do my ghosts have swords on their belts?”

“No, Mistress. But they do have weapons.”

“Some do. But they are always holding them. It is complicated and ultimately pointless giving ghosts scabbards and weapons they can put down. Simply give them claws or make the weapon an extension of their hand. We don't have time to be fancy, we need them to work. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Good. Don't waste time. If something doesn't work, try something different that will get you similar results. If you do it again, I'll find a job suitable for your simple-mindedness.”

From the look in his eyes, if Blau had the ability, Keir would be dead. That was fine, the boy wouldn't make the same mistake again. Too many mages, and people, never reached their potential because they  focused on one thing even as it failed, rather than looking at other options. From the way everyone was pointedly not looking at them, the entire class had learned an important lesson.

Going back to the younger students, he began giving them advice and tasks to work on. He even allowed himself an occasional smile. The students were doing well, and soon enough they would be able to create their own ghosts. Come spring, he would have the first true necromancers in three centuries, ready to fight by his side.

Standing up from the latrine, Keir cursed as the infernal belt he had to wear shifted uncomfortably on his hips. The thick cotton pad, filled with sweet smelling herbs, that attached to the belt was awkwardly pressed against his crotch to catch the blood which insisted on leaking out of him. He wondered if it would ever feel natural.

Stepping out of the simple building that gave people some privacy, he went to the long washing trough and pumped out some water for his hands. The harsh soap provided by the church felt gritty and greasy, nothing like the expensive soaps he'd once used when he'd ruled the continent.

Some people looked at him oddly, Keir ignored them. Commoners may not believe it, but even former emperors and powerful necromancers had to obey the demands of nature.

Walking towards the Lleial camp flanked by his ghostly guardsmen, Keir was very aware of the looks he was getting. Word of what had happened in the city had spread, as had the strange and terrifying ghosts that had risen up. It didn't help that the Strix liked to fly over the camp, roosting on the buildings and rocks, filling the air with child-like laughter.

Before, he'd been looked at with awe, fear and respect. Now the people were even more distant. Some stayed back due to wonder at the miracle worker who raised armies and made the demons flee in terror. Others were terrified of the evil necromancer who raised monsters and destroyed cities. He'd experienced similar three hundred years ago as emperor. But then he'd had a court, advisors, friends, and family who, while respectful, realized he was merely human and treated him as such.

Now, he had Jaris and Von. And the mage could hardly be called a friend.

In the Lleial camp the people acted very differently.

“Regua!” the people cheered as he walked past.

“Regua, please bless my child,” a woman asked, holding up a toddler.

“Are you hungry, Regua? I have fresh soup, the best you'll find in camp,” a vendor said.

“Regua, when will we march on the demons?”

“Praise Regua! The time of reckoning is here!”

“Regua, my father is ill!”

“Regua, heal me and I'll fight the demons again.”

Keir and his guards moved through the throng, focusing solely on his destination. If he spent time talking and blessing everyone, he'd never leave. Once he was done his business, he'd take a little time to talk to the people and pat the children on the head. That would be enough to placate the crowd.

He finally reached the medical tent and stepped inside out of the crowd. With a thought his guards turned insubstantial and vanished, ready to react if he was attacked, but out of the way. The healers and some of the patients bowed as he went past, he nodded and smiled in return.

Floria was lying in bed, looking frustrated. “Regua, you didn't have to come here. If you need anything I would have gone to you.”

“You were stabbed in the stomach, and then insisted on staying out of bed for far too long,” he said, giving her a small smile. He'd heard how she had spent much of the long ritual guarding the protective runes, and taking part in a religious ceremony with the other Lleial, instead of letting herself heal. “You will obey the healers, until they say you're healthy.”

“Yes, Regua.”

“Now, while you're resting, I want eleven people to act as my bodyguards. We shouldn't need them until the spring, but they and you, need to train so we aren't caught off guard like last time.”

“Won't eleven guards cause problems with the Dogs?”

“Frankly, I don't care. My dead outnumber the living. And if it came down to a choice between myself and the Council, a quarter of the people would back me, about half would support the Council or run in terror, and the rest would hide until the screaming is over. And the army is evenly split between us. Do you think the Council would openly break with me with odds like that?” He didn't mention that it would be easy for Von to simply command him into obedience. He had some ideas how to counter that problem, if it came to it. And with the coming of winter, he could start work on breaking the geas.

“No, they wouldn't unless they have no choice.”

“Right. So I'm going to continue working with them. It's in everyone's best interest that we act as allies, and after all I've given them, I don't think they'll begrudge me a small number of bodyguards. So you have a week to come up with a team and plan for their training.” He pointed a finger at her. “You will not join them, or leave this bed until the healers say you may. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Regua. But tomorrow morning, you will have your guards waiting outside your door,” she told him.

He nodded. “Very well. Now get some rest, I want you guarding my back again as soon as possible.”

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

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, look at background info, see snippets of potential stories, and have a chance to choose what I write next, you can support me on my Patreon page.

Keir was in the middle of studying a strix, drawing out the incredibly complex weave of magic that gave it shape. It was not an easy process, especially when combined with the irritation and low level pain coming from his body. The clothes he was wearing weren't helping matters either. With his current monthly visitor, a dress was simply easier to wear for hygiene reasons.

A knock on the door interrupted his work. He wasn't sure if he should be annoyed at the interruption or thankful to have something take his mind off his body.

“Get that please, Jaris,” he said. He'd sent his maids out earlier. His bodyguards, who had arrived that morning, were guarding the door from outside the room. He'd wanted complete silence for his work, and his general irritability was not something he wanted to take out on his servants. They didn't deserve it, so it was best if he was alone.

His ghostly servant silently floated to the door, to see who it was. “It's Sister Kaja, sir,” he said.

“Let her in and get us some tea, please,” he said, getting up to greet her properly. He sent a mental command to the strix, which promptly opened the window and flew away, laughing merrily.

“Sister Kaja, it's a pleasure to see you today. What brings you here?” he asked, motioning for her sit by the fire.

“ I noticed you've been blessed by the Mother, Mage Keira,” the old priestess said. She took a small vial out of her robe. “I thought you could use some medicine to help relieve some of the symptoms.”

“Thank you,” he said, feeling his cheeks heat up at the topic. “I've been using hot tea and some minor spells to deal with it, but they're not made for this specific problem and aren't working as well as I'd hoped.”

“That's to be expected. You never had to personally deal with the the three tribulations before. This is a simple herbal recipe, just put two drops into your tea three times a day.

He looked at her a little confused. “The three tribulations?”

The priestess smiled, and patted his arm. “The tribulations of womanhood, menstruation, pregnancy, and breastfeeding. Very few women can escape them, and while they are joyful, they aren't always pleasant, especially the first.”

Snorting at the thought of any of those being joyful to go through, he put the vial on the table. Changing the uncomfortable topic, he asked, “How are things for the Church and the people?”

“With the newcomers, food and supplies, the people in general are doing well. Not having to worry about the demons attacking during the winter has helped ease most of their immediate fears. However suicide is a problem. Some people who have lost their loved ones and aren't being worked to exhaustion, now have time to think of their lose. The Church is doing what it can to help ease their pain, but there is only so much we can do for them.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“You have done enough for now, Keira, you gave us time and an army. Now it is time for you to think about how to help yourself,” she said.

“How do you mean?”

“You've come back to life after three centuries, in the middle of a war unlike any the world has ever fought. You have no friends to confide in. You're closest allies see you as a holy saviour from legend. The rest see you as a weapon to be controlled. You've handled the strain well, but you are like the rest of the people here, pushing every concern aside except survival.”

“Survival is rather important.”

“Yes it is. But if someone spends too much time thinking only of that, it will break even the strongest of men. Or worse, turn them into a monster that only cares about survival and will damn everyone else.”

Instead of replying, he thought about her words. Jaris came with the tea, giving him a reason to stay silent as he put the medicine into it and slowly sipped the bitter drink. Sister Kaja did the same, allowing him time to think.

“So what do you propose?” he finally asked.

She smiled at him as if she were his grandmother, despite the fact he was likely older than she was. “Something that is incredibly easy once you begin, but very hard for some people to start. Talking. I've been told I'm quite good at listening, and as a priestess, I hold what people say in strictest confidence.”

He sighed, and allowed himself a small chuckle. “You're right. As emperor, I had my wives, my older children, advisors, and confidants to talk too. Sometimes they even yelled at me when they thought I was being particularly hardheaded, especially my youngest wife Meena. She had a temper on her. Beautiful woman, a marvellous dancer and singer, and when she was angry she could shatter glass with her voice.”

“If you like, I'll be your confident, and your friend. But I won't yell at you, I'm too old for that nonsense.”

“You're what, in your fifties?”

“Fifty-four, come midwinter.”

“That's still young. I'm a decade older than you, and I can shout with the best of them.”

“That is likely true, but you have the advantage of being in the body of an eighteen year old. Whereas I feel all of my physical years.”

“True enough,” he agreed. “So what would you like to talk about?”

“I've only heard of you as an emperor or the Necromancer. What are you like when you aren't wearing those hats?”

Sipping his tea, Keir began to talk.

Resting the stump of his arm on a cushion, Von wrote some notes in his ledger. As the highest ranking mage in the fort, he was in charge of all the other magic users, a liaison with the military and civilian government, as well as the Church, and was part of the military council preparing strategies for fighting the demons. His trip to Kodor, and his injury had allowed far too much work to build up. But there was little he could do about that. He'd pushed himself too hard after losing his hand, and had been bedridden even with magical healing.

Absentmindedly he reached for his cup of tea. He looked up in confusion when he couldn't find it, only to see he was trying to use his missing hand. Putting his pen down, he grabbed the mug and sipped the special painkilling medicine.

He could feel his lost hand. He'd wake up feeling it burning. The missing fingers would twitch when he struggled to button up his shirt. His nonexistent palm would itch seemingly at random throughout the day. He'd been told it would decrease with time, but for now he could only endure it.

Looking over the documents he had to read, Von decided they could wait. He needed to get some air and stretch his legs. Placing his arm in a sling to keep it from being bumped, he put on a winter coat and left his office.

Going outside, freshly fallen snow crunched under his feet. The sound of soldiers marching and drilling wasn't as loud as it had been two weeks ago. While training was still ongoing, the freezing temperatures made it less of a priority, no one wanted to deal with frostbite if they could help it. The sound of construction from the refugee camp was also almost nonexistent. After the backbreaking pace of work preparing for winter, now people just wanted to stay warm in their hastily built barracks and homes.

Work continued, but it was being done inside, and it was generally quieter activities. Making bullets, sewing uniforms and clothes, repairing weapons, making bandages, all of it preparing for the coming spring.

A translucent figure squatted off to the side of the path, staring in fascination at the snow. Curious Von made his way over to the ghost.

“Good day, Jaris,” he said.

The servant looked up, smiling pleasantly. “Ah, Mage Von. It's good to see you on your feet. How is your arm healing?”

“Slowly, but it's getting better. Where is Keir?”

“Mage Keir is in his room talking with a friend. Since I wasn't needed, I was given the afternoon off.”

“Would you care to walk with me, I needed some air and some company would be nice.”

“It would be my pleasure, sir.” The ghost rose to his feet and fell in beside Von.

“How are you finding everything?” Von asked.

“After several centuries in a dusty room, the freedom to move around and explore is quite pleasant. The current situation is not quite the same as wandering the streets of a city and enjoying a night at the theatre, but I am not one to complain.”

“Hopefully we'll both live to enjoy a night of peace and happiness,” he said. Then he remembered who he was talking too. “I'm sorry, I'm not used to talking to a ghost.”

“Quite all right. I've come to realize that ghosts are not very common nowadays.”

“That is very true, most people have never seen one. And those who do, usually call for a mage as soon as one is found. If you don't mind my asking, you are much more lively than the other ghosts Keir has raised. Why is that?”

“It's because Mage Keir paid special attention to my personality when he created me.”

“Created you? But I thought you're the ghost of Jaris.”

“I am, and I'm not. The soul of Jaris went wherever it was supposed to go to. I'm actually how Mage Keir perceived Jaris, with some of the originals memories and personality that were captured in my creation.”

“Interesting. When we first met, you didn't act like this, you were a bit more...” he tried to think of the right way to say what he thought.

“Rude?”

“Ah, yes.”

“The living Jaris was one of the people who helped keep Mage Keir from rushing into things without thinking. Not always the easiest task in the world. He was often called by those who knew him as 'the sober second thought'. When Mage Keir created me, he focused rather heavily on that aspect, making me almost a caricature of Jaris. That flaw was tempered at the time by other servants and researchers, and my sense of loyalty.”

“So you acted more like you do now?”

“Exactly.” If it was possible for a ghost to look embarrassed, Jaris did at that moment. “When you first met me, I'd have three centuries of being alone. My old habits had come to the fore, rather excessively so.”

Von nodded in understanding. “Thank you for explaining that, it helps clear some things up.”

“Might I ask what your plans are for Mage Keir?”

That caught him off guard. Rather than show it, he stayed silent and collected his thoughts. “My plans are to assist him in destroying the demons. After that, as long as Keir doesn't plan on rebuilding his empire or harm people, I will happily let him go on his way to live as he wishes.”

“And what of the Eldritch Council?”

Von wondered how much he should admit, and how much he could. “Provided Keir assists us in the war and acts for the overall benefit of humanity, they'll act much like myself. I won't lie and say they're happy about raising Keir, but they're not idiots. We need Keir to help defeat the demons, and they know that.”

Jaris nodded, but didn't look happy with the answer.

As they walked in silence, Von was very aware how the ghost didn't ask for any assurances that the Council would allow Keir to peacefully live his life after they didn't need the necromancer.

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

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, look at background info, see snippets of potential stories, and have a chance to choose what I write next, you can support me on my Patreon page.

Marching in time with his fellow recruits Mirek tried his best to ignore the bitter wind that swept through the mountain valley. It wasn't easy. Gritty snow that was more like sand peppered his face, frost hung from his eyelashes, and his woollen scarf was icy around his mouth. His fingers felt brittle, as if the bones had turned to ice.

Gritting his teeth, he kept marching. Stopping wouldn't warm him up, it would only get him yelled at and given extra duties. His experience defending Kodor, and keeping his small group of survivors alive didn't matter to the New Undying Army. They treated him just like a new recruit. He'd have to show them he deserved a place in the army.

The man beside him stumbled in the slippery snow. Reaching out he steadied his comrade in misery. “You Ok, Patya?” he asked.

“Yes. Just need boots that fit properly. These are too damn small,” the big northerner said.

“I heard Jan complaining that his boots are too big even after being packed with straw. Maybe you can trade with him.”

“Really? I'll see him when we stop. Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” he replied. He'd been listening and watching everyone for the last two weeks, finding out who they were, what they liked, what problems they were having, and more. Now it was time to make it pay off.

He didn't say much for the rest of the march. The cold sapped their strength and they'd been marching or drilling for hours. At noon they were finally allowed to stop and get some lunch. Lining up with their kit at the canteen, which was a barely insulated building that had rough hewn tables and benches, Mirek made sure to pick his spot carefully.

“Hey Antonin. You still looking for something to give that girl of yours?” he asked.

“Yeah, it's Bedriska's birthday soon. If I give her something nice, she'll give me something nice back,” the young recruit who could barely shave said with a grin.

Laughing, he nodded in understanding. “Oleg in second company lost a lot of money at poker last night. He needs to pay off his debt soon, and he has a nice bracelet he scavenged from Kodor.”

Antonin scowled. “I don't have any money.”

“I'll lend you some. You can pay me back when we get paid at the end of the month.”

“You'll do that for me?”

“I don't need the money for anything right now. And I trust you to pay it back.” He wasn't lying, but that wasn't the reason he was helping. Mirek wanted to get a helpful reputation. It would help him move up the ranks quickly. The army was desperate for officers, and anyone who wasn't an idiot had a chance of getting a commission. Once he was high enough, he'd be able to get close to the Necromancer. If he could get within arms reach of the monster, he'd only need a few seconds to do the deed.

He kept his dark thoughts to himself as the young man thanked him. His friendly smile never wavered as they got their soup and biscuits, and talked about rumours and camp scuttlebutt.

Ten years ago the fortifications manned by the dead would have been Aleksandar's worst nightmare. After watching the demons advance for so long, the many kinds of dead that roamed the trenches and walls was only disturbing. At least the flag of the Eldritch Council still flew from the observation towers, he'd half expected them to have the skull of the old Necromantic Empire

As the dog sleds of his small party slid along the snow following the ghosts who had been with them for the last week, he could hear the excited shouts of the living soldiers. Soldiers came out putting a log bridge over the wide pit that had been dug thirty yards in front of the first row of fortifications. They weren't wearing proper uniforms, but they moved as a team, with no wasted motions.

The defenses were primitive, being only made of wood and dirt. Yet they were well placed and heavily built. The soldiers were all armed with rifles and pistols, not the spears and swords he'd read about in his report. The air was thick with smoke from the hundreds of stove pipes that marked out underground shelters and dugouts, which likely held most of the living soldiers, protected from the cold temperatures and snow. This wasn't a pack of rabble and defeated soldiers he'd been told of, this was an army ready to defend itself.

A young man in a stained and worn out uniform met him at the first trench. “Mage Aleksandar, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Lieutenant Hugo Bianchi, if you'll follow me I'll take you to General Ajani.”

Getting out of the comfortable, and more importantly, warm pile of furs, Aleksandar nodded, and followed the young man. The disgusting flying monsters that laughed like children followed him, laughing as he stumbled along on his stiff legs.

He wondered what the things were, they hadn't been mentioned in any of his books of the dead. Neither had the massive dead things that stood silently and unmoving at the edges of the fortifications, as if they were statues rather than rotted flesh. Just what had the Necromancer been up to since being resurrected?

Because of the twisted and zigzagging pattern they had to take to get around the fortifications, it took a while to get to the command centre. Likely because of the winter weather it wasn't very busy, there was a yellow mage sitting quietly writing something in a ledger, and a handful of people he assumed were officers, going over reports or writing orders.

General Ajani was easy to spot thanks to his dark skin and impressive height. Looking up at the grim looking man, he forced himself to stay confident. He was a Blue Mage and he was here on a special mission. In many ways he was the equal of the general.

“General Ajani,” he said, “it's a pleasure to meet you.”

The general nodded. “Is the Council sending us support?"

He hadn't expected the abrupt question. Usually there was at least a hello before starting the discussion. “I don't know. I'm just here to act as a liaison between the Council and the Necromancer.”

“Very well, follow me,”

“Where are we going?” he asked, following the general outside.

“I want to show you somethings, and you can report it back to the Council.”

Without saying anything else the general climbed up a rickety ladder to the watch tower above the headquarters. Aleksandar followed much less confidently, his fingers turning white as he clung to the ladder.

At the top of the forty foot tower, he had a spectacular look over the fortifications and surrounding area. The general motioned for him to look around. From up above the confusing mess of trenches actually made sense, there were choke points, specially prepared fields of fire, and bunkers with ammo and supplies in every trench.

“What do you see when you look around?” General Ajani asked.

“I see well laid out fortifications, trained soldiers, overall a formidable defense. I hadn't expected anything like this when I was given my orders. I was told you were on your last legs and weren't expected to survive a single assault.”

“We weren't going to. This was made possible by the Necromancer. Almost entirely on her own she threw back the first attack. Then she helped deal with the horde that came a few hours later. For every living soldier, there are five dead soldiers. The dead dug most of the trenches, allowing my men to focus on strengthening the rest of the defenses. Her dead are hunting down the demons wherever they stand in the region. We now have the winter to prepare for another year of fighting.”

“I understand,” he replied. He honestly did, if the general was telling the truth, and there was no reason to lie, the dead were more valuable than nearly any weapon or machine created. “I'll make sure the Council is aware of this.”

“And what will you do about the geas that's been placed on her?”

“I was told to avoid it, if at all possible. The Necromancer is doing a good job so far, I'm mostly here to keep things running smoothly and ensure that there is no confusion over tactics and plans.”

The general nodded. “Good. Keep to that and everything will go smoothly. Mage Keira has proven to be very useful. If anything should happen to her, many of my soldiers would be very upset.”

Aleksandar gulped at the very blatant threat. Then he realized he'd missed something earlier. “ Wait, Keira? Her? Who are you talking about?”

Standing quietly by the door of classroom, Floria watched the necromancy students attempt to create their first ghosts. The Regua walked among them, giving them advice, praising minor successes, and pushing some of the students to do better.

Faint, human-like figures, that seemed to be more shadow and mist than anything, took shape. Some remained, others faded away within seconds of being created. One young girl made a ghost that looked like her twin, only to have it pop out of existence. The girl began sobbing quietly, hiding her face in her hands. The old priestess was at her side a moment later, talking to her in a whisper.

The sight of the ghosts reminded her of her lost squad. The new people under her command were hardened soldiers, who had gone through the Abyss and survived, but they weren't her friends. The mostly healed wound in her stomach twinged, making her grimace.

She knew they had died doing their duty. They would pass through the gates of death with their heads held high, to be greeted by their ancestors as warriors, which was all anyone could truly hope for, but it didn't make it easy for those left behind. A voice in the back of her head said she should have died with them.

While she mulled over her dark thoughts, the old priestess came over.

“You look troubled,” the woman said.

“What?” she asked, not expecting to hear that.

“I noticed that you seem upset. Maybe I can help.”

“I'm not a follower of the Mother and Father,” Floria said.

The priestess smiled. “Why should that matter when helping someone?”

Floria looked at the old woman more closely. She looked more like a friendly grandmother than a priestess for the Dogs. Was the woman trying to get close to her as a way to reach the Regua?

“I'm on duty, I can't talk right now,” she said. Hopefully that would end the conversation.

“All right. If you change your mind later, come find me, I'm Sister Kaja. We're allies now, we should help each other when we can.”

She nodded, not sure what to say. Fortunately the priestess went back to helping the students, leaving her free to focus on her duty. It also let her go back to her morbid thoughts, she could have done without that.

A few minutes later a messenger poked their head into the tent. “Mage Keira is needed in the fort. A mage from the Eldritch Council has arrived and wants to speak to her.”

Nodding, she let him enter and pass his message onto the Regua. There was a whispered back and forth, then the messenger was hurrying back to the keep.

The Regua strode over to her. “We need to go meet this Blue Mage, but I'm giving an order you cannot disobey, even if I tell you too. Do not leave me alone with this mage, not even for a second. And if he starts to order me to kill or injure myself, kill him immediately then keep me from harming myself.”

“Of course, Regua,” she said, her hand going to her pistol. She would not fail him.

Taking a deep breath, the Necromancer smiled. “Let's see what the Council has to say.”

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

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, look at background info, see snippets of potential stories, and have a chance to choose what I write next, you can support me on my Patreon page.

Aleksandar took a moment to take in the office that had been given to him. It wasn't what he'd expect as an Eldritch Council liaison. It was rather small and dirty, apparently having been used by anyone that needed some privacy to do their work. Scraps of paper with scrawled notes, crossed out orders, and random lists, littered the desk. Someone had gone through the room quickly sweeping the floor and getting rid of any obvious garbage, but the floor was stained and everything needed a good polishing.

Still he wasn't fussy about his work space. As long as he had paper, ink, and preferably a flat surface he could do his work.

He did wish he'd had an hour or two to change and prepare himself. His odour was probably closer to a sweaty dog than human, and he had the beginnings of a patchy beard. He allowed himself a small smile, wishes were few and far between in the current day, especially wishes for more time.

A knock on the door made him jump up from his seat. Taking a deep, calming breath, he sat back down. He was a Blue mage now, most people who weren't high level government officials or the few aristocrats that still had land and power, had to listen to him. When he was sure his emotions were under control, he said, “Come in.”

A young woman, a Lleial warrior, judging by her clothes, scars, and the pistol and sabre at her waist, entered the room. Her eyes pierced him, and he was certain that she would gut him as quickly as he'd swat a fly, if he annoyed her. She moved to stand beside the door, clearly standing guard. Another Lleial followed her, a man this time, who was missing an eye. He took a position on the other side of the doorway.

Then the Necromancer strode in. The young woman, barely an adult, held herself with an authority that few people ever achieved in life. She demanded people's attention with every movement. Her clothes were made of shadow cloth which was practically a taboo on the continent and hideously expensive everywhere. They didn't look like any fashion he could place, with tight fitting pants that would have been scandalous in better times. A long shirt with billowy sleeves, was belted at the waist, and hung halfway down her thighs to form something like a short skirt. The geas tattoos formed intricate designs on the back of her hands, around her neck, and forehead. Short, light brown hair mostly covered the markings on her scalp. If he didn't know better, he'd have guessed the woman was a foreign princess from another continent.

“Good afternoon, Mage Keir,” he said, rising from his chair. “I'm Blue Mage Aleksandar Stojanovski. Please have a seat, I'm sorry I don't have any refreshments, I just arrived and got the office.”

The woman smiled thinly, taking a seat. She would never be called beautiful, but she was comely, especially when she smiled. He resisted the urge to shake his head in confusion. The mental image he had of the Necromancer Keir, created from the numerous portraits from his life, did not match the person who sat across from him.

“You may call me Mage Keira. It's a more appropriate name for my new appearance,” the Necromancer said.

The soft voice was as unexpected as her appearance. There was a touch of power behind it, a steel fist wrapped in a silk glove, but she sounded more like a school teacher or a healer, than a former emperor and warlord.

“Ah... certainly, Mage Keira. I'm the liaison from the Eldritch Council. Since that this region is largely under Council control, it was deemed critical that I come here to see what's required for the spring campaign. While our resources are stretched, with a few months notice, we can provide men, war materials, and basic supplies.” Now that he was going over his planned notes, he began to feel far calmer about the situation.

The liaison had bureaucrat written all over him.

That wasn't an insult. Keir knew bureaucrats were necessary, good ones could keep a country running when almost everything was falling apart, but there were good ones and bad ones. He didn't know where this one stood, and a good bureaucrat for the Council could be terrible for him.

He had one advantage at least, Aleksandar was thrown off by his appearance. It could be from fear or from being face to face with a pretty young woman instead of a monster. If he had more experience as a woman, Kier could have used it to his advantage. He had known many women who could make most sane, sensible men, act like fools with nothing but a few words and a smile. He was willing to admit that he'd fallen for those tricks once or twice.

Unfortunately he didn't know how to do it, and likely wouldn't be able to bring himself to do it even if he did know how. It was probably for the best anyways. The man would likely have a heart attack from terror if the Evil Necromancer started flirting with him.

“Well, Mage Aleksandar," he said, keeping his voice low to appear less threatening, "I am not in charge of logistics or the army. I'm simply doing what I can to help the war effort to the best of my... rather extensive abilities.”

“Right, of course,” the bureaucrat said. “Still you are the reason that any organized resistance still exists. You must have some ideas for the coming year.”

He'd played the humble servant, now it was time to make himself useful. “Very well. The demons have left the region out of fear of the dead. I've been told that this is a common tactic when facing a new threat. By spring they'll have an idea on how to face my ghosts and undead. Even if it merely through weight of numbers. Staying here is not feasible.”

“So you want to go to the coast?”

Shaking his head, he said, “No, that would be giving the demons the initiative. Currently I have over five-hundred-thousand undead purging this region of demons.”

Aleksandar turned ghostly white. “Five-hundred-thousand!”

“That's correct.”

“How did you do that in such a short time?”

“I performed a ritual I'd designed before I died. It worked exactly as I'd planned.” That was a little bit of a lie, but he wasn't about to admit it if he didn't have too.

The bureaucrat wiped his brow. “Those undead are the strange types I saw coming here? The giant ones and the laughing ghosts.”

“Some of them. The sheer amount of death that's occurred has opened up new areas of necromancy that will take time to study. By spring I'm certain I'll have some new tricks to use against the demons.”

“So if you don't want to defend this area, and you don't want to go to the coast, what do you propose?”

Keir raised the status of the bureaucrat up a little. The man was at least willing to listen, which was a very good sign. “All the civilians will head through the pass. They will be safer on the coast and they'll only slow us down here. The Undying Army, with new weapons, especially the machine guns and light artillery will be a mobile force. We'll be moving constantly, using the undead to carry supplies and men in place of living draft beasts. That will allow us to move quickly, while staying relatively rested. Ghosts and the dead will keep any demon scouts on their toes and away from us.

“We'll pick our battlefields carefully, luring them into killing zones, where we have the advantage. Then, leaving behind some of the undead, we'll break off before they can bring enough forces to overwhelm us, and disappear again. We're going to bleed the demons as much as we can. I know they can be frightened. I want them to see this entire region as a charnel house, where they will only find death.”

“And then what?”

“Then we advance, doing the same thing all the way to the Crystal Mountains. While the Undying Army is doing that, the pass to the coast can be improved, farmland, mills and mines can be made far behind the new lines. What we need from the coast is threefold. First a steady stream of weapons, ammo and supplies will be sent to fortified redoubts where we can resupply between fights. Second, we need mages, preferably new ones, the Brown Mages who have just passed their exams. My students will teach them the basics of necromancy, and they'll be sent to the front to create new soldiers. And third, trained soldiers who know how to ride and march. We're going to be a fast moving force, if they can't march all day and ride a horse when we have to run, they're useless to us. I've talked about this extensively with General Ajani and Colonel Moreno, they have the exact plan written out and are working out how it will work. I'm a fair hand at overall strategy, but they're the experts when it comes to battlefield tactics.”

Aleksandar nodded, seemingly in understanding. He still looked a little shocked, but he was clearly thinking about the plan. Then he started chewing on his lip. “What if the Eldritch Council asks you to head for the coast? We could use your dead at the front lines.”

“Send me mages. I'll train them to be necromancers before the first thaw, and they can do the job. A mediocre mage can create a hundred basic dead a day. The front lines are static, any breakthrough will just be swarmed by demons, so at best you'll advance the line a few miles before you have to dig in again,” Keir said. He'd read the reports on the trench style of fighting. While it was an effective defence, it wouldn't defeat the demons. In a war of attrition, the demons always won eventually.

He didn't give the bureaucrat a chance to object. “Here we have an opportunity to keep the war fluid. There are enough of my dead to keep them from swarming us. If they try, we'll know days in advance and flee the area, leaving behind expendable undead to ambush them and wear them down. They need to eat, we'll strip the land bare, surviving on our supplies and the enemy. We can travel at night with undead horses and oxen, while the men sleep in the saddle or wagons. They can't. As more necromancers are trained we can expand our reach, creating similar forces. In two to three years we won't just control the coast, but the entire northeastern part of the continent.”

“And if you fail?”

“The dead are expendable. I can throw all of them at the demons, while the living part of the Undying Army escapes to the coast. I'm stubborn, but my army was called the Undying because we knew when to retreat. The undead can be be replaced, the living core must survive.”

Aleksandar nodded again. “I'll look over the details of the plan and pass it on to the Eldritch Council. I trust you'll follow orders if they disagree with your plan and request you come to the coast to help with the defences there?”

Keeping a straight face, Keir nodded. “I'm no longer an emperor. I will strongly object, but I understand the necessity of following orders.”

He had absolutely no intention of following any orders that sent him to the coast. If he went to the 'safety' of the Eldritch Council, at best he would be in a gilded cage, with no chance of freedom. At worst, there would be an assassination by demons, or a perfectly ordinary accident. Maybe they'd have him write a suicide note and hang himself to be with his family again.

“Very well. You've given me quite a bit to think about for my report, I'm sure my superiors will be very interested in it. Now I'm sure you have other duties to attend to, so unless you have questions for me, I think we're done here.”

“I need to get back to my students, so this is a good place to leave off. But don't hesitate to call for me if you need anything, we need to work together if we want to survive,” Keir said, smiling like he actually meant every word of it.

The airship was a masterpiece of engineering.

Sister Otillie had seen balloons before, they were mostly toys for the rich, and brought out during festivals before the war, when anyone with a few coins could go into the sky and look down at the world as if they were a bird. But the airship was unlike any balloon she had ever seen.

The oval shaped balloon was sheathed in metal, protecting it from the claws of any demon that might attack. A large gondola was welded to the frame, the flying demons wouldn't be able to rip it off even if they could get close enough. Pneumatic guns bristled from the gondola ready to shoot anything that came within a mile of the flying machine.

Protective runes were etched into every sheet of metal, making it more durable. A few holy symbols were painted on it as well. Calling on the Mother and Father for support couldn't hurt. And on both sides of the gondola, painted in large dark red letters, was the name of the ship, 'The Thorn'.

Men untied the thick mooring lines, allowing The Thorn to rise into the air. The onlookers, who numbered in the thousands cheered. Raising her hands, Sister Otillie called out a blessing. Her voice was drowned out by the shouting.

She didn't take it personally. The hollow cheeked, ragged mob of people were desperate for hope, and this was their one chance at survival. No one knew what the airship crew would find in the city of Kodor, but they all hoped and prayed it would be good news.

As the mages directed the winds to raise the airship more quickly into the sky, the priestess whispered a prayer to the gods she couldn't quite believe in. Silently, she begged Mother Sun and Father Moon to finally send them help.

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

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, look at background info, see snippets of potential stories, and have a chance to choose what I write next, you can support me on my Patreon page.

Looking out the window at the howling blizzard, Von sipped his tea, contemplating his rather open schedule for the day. Since Mage Aleksandar had taken over all Council business, he had found himself largely at loose ends. Scratching his stump, he realized he should have expected that to happen. While he hadn't been declared a traitor, he couldn't expect much more than that.

There was a knock on the door. Curiosity cut through the growing melancholy and boredom. Turning to the door, he sat up straighter. “Come in.”

Mage Aleksandar came in, the usual curious and polite expression that seemed to be permanently etched onto the man's face was gone. In it's place was anger, it made him look something like a furious gerbil.

“Mage Aleksandar, how do you do?” he asked.

“I wish I could say I was doing well, but I prefer not to lie,” the man said. “Why did you allow the Necromancer to start that school?”

Von forced himself to keep a straight face. He had only learned of the school after the fact, at which point it was too late to stop it. But he couldn't say that. To keep the peace, and protect the necromancer it was best to make it seem that Keir and he were working together. So it was time to tell a half truth.

“I let him do it, because it's a good idea. The ghosts and undead had proven to be effective, teaching more people how to raise them effectively was the logical next step,” he said.

“With children? He could teach Council mages the proper spells more quickly and easily. And they would be under our control.”

“All of our mages were busy with other duties. Caring for the sick and wounded, helping set up fortifications, guarding work parties, and several other tasks. We didn't even have time to check the children to see who had the capabilities of becoming a mage, and you expect us to become competent necromancers?” He snorted in disgust.

“Half of the children are Lleial, they'll never work with the Council, much less show it the proper loyalty.”

“Half of the army is made of Lleial,” Von pointed out. “And when Keir called for volunteers, most of the children were Lleial, you should be thankful they aren't all his followers. He chose them for their abilities, not for loyalty.”

“Since you have all the answers, what do you propose to do if the Necromancer goes rogue and calls on his students to help?”

He wanted to say that they could avoid that, so long as they kept Keir on the front line fighting the demons. Instead he said, “That's why we have the geas on him. If he steps out of line, we'll make him do what we need.”

“You truly think that will work? You only use the weakest of the geas, he can sidestep them easily enough.”

Sighing, Von put his tea down. There was no dancing around the topic anymore. “That's true, but this way he can think. His plan in the first battle allowed us to win, and it was a damn close fight. During the march to Kodor, following Keir's plan, with a few hours to prepare our defenses, we slaughtered the demon army. If it hadn't been for their assassins we would have had a dozen men dead at most. And now thanks to giving Mage Keir a free hand, this entire region is free of demons and our army has more than doubled in size. I couldn't have done what he accomplished, because I don't know how to fight with the undead, neither does anyone else. He is the only one who does.”

“You've saved a few thousand people and your own hide, but at what cost? We've survived as long as we have thanks to our unity. The Necromancer could divide us. If he decides to rebuild his empire, or comes to believe he truly is the saint that the Lleial claim, we could find ourselves fighting not just the demons but the undead as well. The people of the Yellow Coast still tell stories of the Necromancer slaughtering their people and destroying their cities, and spit on his name. What will they do when they hear about this?”

“Aleksandar, I've been at the front lines with almost no chance to see what's happening at the rear for a decade. So tell me, are there any new weapons that can stop the demons? Not just slow them down, but actually stop them dead in their tracks.”

The mage was silent for several moments. “There are weapons being made on other continents. Armoured carriages that move by steam and mount machine guns. New magic that can be placed on artillery shells making them deadlier. Improved guns that can killed even armoured demons in only a few shots. And we're making new magi-tech, I've personally studied golems that are more powerful than any we had before.”

“And are they here? Can we get them in enough numbers to help?”

“We're negotiating for them.”

Von nodded. “I understand the Council's fears, but those wonder weapons aren't here. Keir is.”

“What about those monsters Keir made? The laughing birds, the freezing shadows, the faceless ghosts that can make themselves appear as loved ones? He's released hundreds of thousands of them into the world without any control. If they get near a city or town, can you imagine what havoc they could cause?”

“They were ordered to hunt down demons. And if any do attack people, we have our anti-dead weapons available. They may be a problem for the future, but Keir seems to be the only way we have a future to worry about.”

“You're putting a lot of faith in the Necromancer.”

“It's not faith, it's a calculated risk.”

“It's lighting a fuse when you aren't sure if it will set off a bomb under you or your enemy. You had a chance at ensuring we had a real hold on the Necromancer, and you threw it away. If he steps out of line, it will be on your head.”

He nodded in understanding. “I don't think it will come to that, but if it does I'll accept my fate. At least I'll be able to face the Mother and Father knowing I did everything I possibly could.”

Mage Aleksandar got to his feet. “Very well. If you have any ideas that might help the Council, or learn that the Necromancer could become a danger, I expect you to inform me. While we're unhappy with your decisions, the situation is salvageable. Any help you provide will go far in getting back in our good graces.”

“I'll do what I can. I'm still loyal to the Council.”

“I'm glad to hear it, good day, Mage Von.”

Alone in his office again, Von grimaced and rubbed his stump. Despite losing his hand, he could still feel it. At the moment it seemed like he was making a fist, it was so tight it hurt. Looking back out the window, he tried to relax.

The bureaucrat left Von's office, looking suitably important and confident. Then seeing the hallway was deserted, he leaned against the wall, wiping his suddenly sweaty brow, gulping in air. Shuddering once from what was likely pent up anxiety, he straightened up, fixed his collar and strode down the hall. The new Council mage never noticed the tiny shade that followed him, hiding in his very shadow, watching and listening to everything he did.

Keir sat in his room, contemplating what he'd just listened too.

So Von had gone against the Council, not just in resurrecting him, but only putting on one of the geas. That was interesting, and his opinion of the mage shifted slightly for the better. The man was still not an ally. He probably never would be. As one of only two people who could control him, Von was a danger to Keir. Potentially more dangerous than the demons. Still the mage was even more isolated than he was. That was something he could work with.

Leaning back in his chair, Keir thought about how best to win the mage to his side.

“Captain, fliers coming from the west. Looks to be a flock of ten,” Private Blanc said, peering through the telescope mounted on the window.

“Tell the gunners to prepare the guns, fire as soon as they're sure of the shot,” Captain Cilus Dobeliet ordered. He'd like to start shooting the demons as quickly as possible, but they had to conserve ammunition. Even loaded to the gills, they'd run through half of their bullets just getting clear of Cristal Fleche. He hid his shudder at the memory of the screaming demons scraping their claws against the armoured airship, as his men had desperately fought to keep them from reaching anything important.

“How much further until we reach Kodor?” he asked the navigator.

“We should reach it in about fourteen hours, provided the weather stays like this, sir.”

They should have seen more demons by now. If the city was still fighting, the entire area should be swarming with the monsters. And if the city had fallen, they would still be around, mating and scouring the area for survivors. But this was the first flock they'd seen in over a day. Where were they?

“Captain, the fliers... they're not demons,” Private Blanc said.

“What are they?”

“They look like ghosts.”

He shook his head in disgust. He'd seen too many ghosts in his time, they plagued the lands the demons took. The poor bastards were mostly harmless, just a reminder that they would be dead soon enough as well.

“Tell the gunners to stand down,” he said. “Mage Mette, if they prove to be a threat, please deal with them.”

“Of course, sir,” the Mage said, going to the window to track them.

They continued to fly in silence for a few minutes. The magical winds pushed them through the air, conserving the fuel for the propeller. Even after all the training and flying continuously for three days, he was amazed at how smooth the ride was. The engineers had worked wonders creating the machine.

“Sir,” Mage Mette said, “the ghosts are waving at us.”

“What?”

“They stopped a hundred yards away and are waving at us.”

Going to the window, he saw the ghosts, who were dressed like old fashion cavalry and riding horses, were actually waving at his airship. Not sure what was going on, he waved back at them.

They started trotting through the air towards the ship and soon enough they were flying alongside, close enough to touch. One of them turned slightly and passed through the hull as if it wasn't there. The large ghost didn't exactly fit in the airship bridge. In fact the horse was halfway in the floor so the rider wasn't cut in half by the ceiling.

“I'm Captain Dobeliet, of The Thorn. Why did you wave at us?”

The ghost looked at him with dead black eyes, then it spoke in a whispery voice . “You can find safety at Desolation Fort. The Undying Army has freed the area of demons, and can provide you with food, medicine, shelter, and protection.”

It took him a moment to translate what the ghost had said. It spoke in an archaic version of the Continental language, which he was rusty in. Then his eyes went wide in shock. “The Undying Army? It's been dead for three hundred years,” he said in the same language.

“It has been reborn. Mage Keira has commanded us to find all the living and offer sanctuary. We will lead you to Desolation Fort, protecting you along the way.”

“My orders are to go to Kodor.”

There was a long pause. “Kodor is gone,” the ghost finally said. “Desolation Fort is all that remains. The Undying Army can provide you with food, medicine, shelter, and protection.”

“Is Desolation Fort in contact with the Eldritch Council?”

“Desolation Fort can provide you with food, medicine, shelter, and protection. We can lead you to Desolation Fort, protecting you along the way. Do you wish to come?”

Talking to the ghost wasn't going to get him very far. But at least they now had a clearer idea of where they needed to go. Whatever had affected the demons likely came from this Desolation Fort, whatever that was. “Yes, we will follow you.”

The ghost nodded. “If you need us to stop, tell us.” With that, it trotted back through the hull and waved at the ship to follow as it flew back to the rest of the ghosts.

“Follow the ghosts,” he said to the navigator.

Mage Mette turned to him, his normally red face looked pale. “Captain, can I talk to you in your office?”

“Of course,” he said. Turning over control of the bridge to the navigator, he and the mage went to the small closet that was his office and quarters.

Squeezing themselves into the pair of too small chairs, that were the only piece of furniture in the office, he motioned for the mage to speak.

“Do you know what Desolation Fort is guarding?” the mage asked.

“No, is it important?”

“It's guarding Emperor Keir's tomb.”

“And how is that important?”

“The ghost said it's from the Undying Army, and it was commanded to help the living by a Mage Keira.  It ignored you when asked about the Eldritch Council. We could be dealing with a descendent of the Necromancer.”

“I thought all of the old bastards children were killed.”

“That was never confirmed. If the bloodline survived, they could have lived hidden away among the Lleial, passing on the knowledge of necromancy. Now would be the best time to come out, no one would oppose them, and what better place to do it than the tomb of the necromancer. Or it could be a talented mage that is using the historical necromancer to give themselves legitimacy.”

“If the ghost is telling the truth, and this Undying Army has sent the demons packing, does it really matter?” he asked. “We're desperate for help, they might not be the Council, but they could save the city.”

“They may. But we should be very careful about what we agree too, until we know who exactly we're dealing with.”

“Agreed. It won't do much good if they lift the siege only to turn us all into undead conscripts for their army. But remember, our mission is to save the city. If this Mage Keira and Undying Army can do that, I'll promise almost anything they require, even if it goes against the Eldritch Council.”

“Let's hope it doesn't come to that. Still, if it does, I'll support you.”

Patting the mage on the back, Captain Dobeliet smiled. “Thank you. And if you have any concerns, I'll take them into consideration.”

Feeling the weight of command and the survival of his city on his shoulders more than ever, he went back to the bridge. Whispering a prayer, he took his seat, wondering what the future would hold.

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

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, look at background info, see snippets of potential stories, and have a chance to choose what I write next, you can support me on my Patreon page.

Keir glared at the magic embedded into the tattoo of his left hand. He was trying to copy the confusing knot onto a piece of paper without any luck. A dozen sheets, with drawings on both sides, were crumpled on the floor. He'd never seen a more complicated pattern in his life. It had at least six different types of magical energy, there was even a little bit of death magic involved. And it wasn't just being shaped and contained by the rune, it helped form it as well.

Normally a rune could be made by anyone with some skill and attention to detail. They just needed the right ingredients and the process to make the rune, than they or someone else could fill it with magical energy. It was something like a potter making a clay pot. But this was different. The rune was shaped by the magic rather than vice versa.

If he tried to break the rune, it would cause the spell to backfire. That would be traumatic enough. But this spell was connected directly to him. Using a tiny spark of magic, he prodded the strand of soul that was tied into the knot.

Pain lanced through his arm and reaching his head, causing him to briefly see stars.

“Are you all right, sir?” Jaris asked.

“No. This damn geas is something I've never seen before. I don't know if I can break it.” He hated admitting defeat, but this spell had been made by a master. The ideas he'd had earlier were absolutely useless, he didn't even know where to start.

“Could you recreate it on someone else? Or better yet, something else.”

“I can't even trace out the threads of magic. I don't know where to start, it's a knot with no beginning or end. Even the ends of the two threads connecting it to the other tattoos are hidden in the rat's nest of thread. And if I cut either of those, the entire thing will explode. Whoever created this had to have taken a lifetime.”

“You were dead for three hundred years. It's likely they took several lifetimes perfecting it.”

“And I barely have a winter to solve it.” Frowning, he sipped the cup of cold tea that sat well out of the way on the side of his desk. “I don't even have the full winter to do it. I have to teach the students, raise more ghosts, plan for the spring and summer campaign, keep my allies happy, and make sure my enemies don't tighten their noose further. And I have to worry about the demons sending more assassins.”

“At least you can be happy they didn't put the full geas on you. From the sounds of it, that would have left you little more than an unthinking weapon.”

“That's one small blessing,” he muttered.

Jaris leaned over the desk, looking closely at the poorly drawn copy of the spell. “Since you can't break it, what if you deflected it?”

“What?”

“Would it be possible to redirect some of the energy? It wouldn't break the geas, but it might make it possible to let you ignore it.”

Looking back at his hand, he studied the tiny piece of his soul. There was no way to slip a thread under the knot. And adding a thread to the tangle wouldn't work, the spell would just ignore it or be destroyed, causing it to explode. But... if he attached a new spell to the strand of soul just under the geas, it could limit the damage. Even if he made it perfectly it would still be hard to disobey a direct order, but it might be possible.

As a last resort to avoid death or complete enslavement, a small chance was better than no chance.

Now he just had to design a completely new type of spell that would attach to his soul, redirect energy from one of the most complicated spells he'd ever seen, and keep his soul from being damaged. Why couldn't his life ever be easy?

“Jaris, you're a genius. If I ever become an emperor again, you'll be my prime minister for life,” he said, smiling up at his friend.

“Thank you, sir. I'll be sure to remind you when that happy day arrives.”

“Concentrate, boy,” Keir instructed Blau.

The former Lleial warrior turned magical student, didn't react to the insult. Either he'd gotten used to being called boy, or he'd become better at hiding his emotions. Keir didn't care which it was, he was going to turn the young man into a first rate necromancer or break him.

At the moment Blau was trying to see through the eyes of his ghost. He had the right weave, but as expected, stretching the energy across the tent to the target was proving difficult. Like many new mages, pushing their power out at a distance wasn't easy. There was no physical action like it. The closest description Keir had ever heard was trying to thread a needle with tweezers in a strong wind. The first time was always hardest. Once they succeeded at it, and practised a few dozen more times, it became second nature.

Recalling the advice that had helped him when he had been having trouble as an apprentice, he said, “Imagine your lining your cock up for a beautiful, ready woman, and push it in.”

The energy shattered. Blau turned an amazing shade of scarlet, and all the older students, plus Sister Kaja looked at him in shock. Jaris rubbed his translucent forehead, hiding his face.

“What?” he asked, not sure why they were so surprised.

“Ma'am,” Jaris said, emphasizing the word, “that bit of advice sounds better when it comes from a male. Not a comely young woman.”

Keir felt his cheeks burn, they had to be even redder than the boys. “Right. Another thing I need to get used to. Jaris, take over. I need some air.”

With what little dignity was left to him, he left the tent. The bitterly cold air barely touched him through his magical warmth. The refugee camp might have been abandoned except for a few undead that were delivering piles of wood to the huts and barracks. Pulling sleds loaded down with cut lumber and stacking them up in tall piles beside the paths. The desolation suited his current feelings. He wanted to be alone.

Before the snow had come, he'd been so busy preparing for war, healing, or travelling, he hadn't had time to think about his body. Now without the immediate threat of death, he was realizing he wasn't who he had once been. He'd bled and would do it again soon enough. His friend and servant was quite willing to tell him to his face that he was no longer a proper man. And as he'd just learned no one saw him as he had been, and as he still thought of himself.

What was he supposed to do now?

“Damn you, Von. Couldn't you have found me a better body?” he whispered.

A ghostly rider came flying out of the sky landing soundlessly beside him. Reaching out with his magic, he looked into the ghost's mind. The first few images were pointless, just the ghost flying to him. Then he saw something that made him stagger.

A metal ship flew through the air, moving by a single massive propeller. He had seen balloons before, simple things that his enemies had used to see across a battlefield. This was so different from one of those primitive vehicles, he could barely believe it. Going through the ghosts mind he learned that it was about to set down at the bottom of the pass.

With a thought he altered the ghost, removing the rider, strengthening it, making it solid. Getting into the saddle, he silently ordered it to fly to the pass. Rising into the air, he galloped across the sky. His earlier problems forgotten.

It only took a few minutes to reach the fortifications. The airship still in the air, slowly lowering itself to the ground. It was eerily silent. It wasn't natural, something that size should make noise. Ropes with long stakes on the end, snaked out of portholes. Controlled by magic they drove themselves through the snow and deep into the ground.

Finally it made some noise. A loud roaring emanated from the machine, and the ropes were pulled taut, pulling the airship down far faster then it had been going. It came to a stop five feet above the ground. A door on the side opened, and a man in a grey uniform put a wooden ladder in place, then stepped aside.

An older man also in a grey uniform, but a slightly fancier one, climbed down. He was followed by a mage in a yellow robe. From the trenches Colonel Moreno, Mage Von and a small honour guard of soldiers who had proper, matching uniforms, which was still a rare thing in the army, went to meet the flying men. He was surprised to see Von there, he'd thought the mage was effectively sidelined. Maybe the new Council mage wasn't as powerful as it seemed.

Keir decided he should be there when they started talking. Directing his ghostly steed to the ground, he timed his landing to match the two sides meeting each other. It had the affect he wanted. All four were surprised to see him.

“Hello,” he said, before Colonel Moreno could say anything. “I hope I didn't startle you. My ghost was late telling me that you were arriving. I'm Mage Keira, and you are?”

The officer nodded in greeting. “Mage Keira, I am Captain Cilus Dobeliet, of The Thorn.” He spoke with an interesting accent, almost slurring his vowels, it made him a little hard to understand. “This is Mage Mette, of the Eldritch Council. We're from the city Cristal Fleche, with orders to seek assistance in relieving the demon siege. I am authorized to negotiate on my leaders behalf, and for your support we are willing to share our technology, including blueprints for The Thorn.”

Smiling, Keir said, “While that is very tempting, I am not the only person who has a say in this. These are Colonel Monero, and Mage Von of the Eldritch Council. If you'll follow us, we'll see General Ajani in his headquarters, then we can learn more about your situation and decide if we are capable of helping you.”

“Yes,” the Colonel said, not quite glaring at Keir, “the General is most interested in learning about your mission. And any final say on our spring plans must go through him.”

As they made their way across the snow, Keir saw the looks the Captain and the mage shared. They recognized the divided leadership. If they were smart they'd use it to their advantage. He just hoped they were good enough to convince the General to lift the siege of Cristel Fleche. Having an entire city to work with, would give him the power base he so desperately needed.

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

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, look at background info, see snippets of potential stories, and have a chance to choose what I write next, you can support me on my Patreon page.

Sitting in General Ajani's office, which had been expanded and improved since the last time he'd been there, Keir studied the different players. They'd made the polite greetings, everyone had a mug of mint tea to take the chill off, and now things were about to get interesting.

Von looked surprisingly well for someone who'd lost a hand, his position, and was under a deep shadow for his actions by the Eldritch Council. Watching him sip his mint tea, the mage seemed to be in complete control of everything.

Colonel Monero still looked like he'd been sucking on a lemon and was trying to hide it. The man had insisted on talking the entire way to the General's office, as if to make up for Keir's unexpected appearance. While Keir couldn't blame him for having an injured pride, the reaction showed he was not a political animal.

The two newcomers, Captain Cilus Dobeliet and Mage Mette, were eying them all warily. Passing by the undead soldiers who manned the lines had made them nervous. Having a flock of laughing strix swooping down just over their heads had done nothing to ease their misgivings. They sat together, drinking their tea, trying to look unconcerned and failing. Their hollow cheeks and bony hands helped Keir understand just how desperate things were in Cristal Fleche.

And then there was General Ajani. The man was looking better, his eyes weren't hollow from lack of sleep and half rations. More importantly there was a fire in his eyes again, not just the smouldering embers of hatred. The man saw that he could avenge his family and his people, and it showed in his demeanour. For the first time Keir could remember the General was actually smiling. It was a small smile, but it wasn't forced to keep morale up.

Keir was certain the man was thinking of how to use The Thorn and the city to kill as many demons as possible. That was something he wholeheartedly approved of.

“Gentlemen,” the General said, “I'm surprised your city is still holding out after so long. It was presumed lost after the Verdammt Campaign.”

“I won't say it was easy, but we managed to withstand the first few assaults, then the demons decided to just starve us out,” Captain Dobeliet said. “It helped that over forty thousand surviving legionnaires, most of whom had kept their weapons arrived just ahead of the monsters. With good leadership, strong defences and our stockpiles of supplies they and our militia managed to hold the walls.”

“Why didn't you send out any messages? If we'd known you were still alive, the Council would have at least tried to send some supplies through the mountains,” Von asked.

“Shadow assassins, at least twenty of them, made it into the city. In one night every mage who could send a message was killed, along with most of our leadership. When the demons attacked at dawn, we almost lost the city. Only the Mother and Father know how we managed to hold the last line. That's when the siege really began.”

Mage Mette smiled thinly. “I'm the highest ranking mage left. Back then I had just received my yellow robes. With no one to guide a message spell to another mage outside of the city, we couldn't get word out. We sent a few messengers up river into the Crystal Mountains, trying to reach human lines. About half returned, forced to turn back.”

“How have you been getting food and supplies?” the General asked.

The Captain sipped his tea before answering. “The Silver River cuts through the centre of the city, it provides us with fish, birds, and other things. And every flat piece of the of city that isn't an important road or building is growing something. The mountains are also full of refugees. They've set up small fields, along with hunting and gathering anything that can be considered food. They send food to the city in exchange for weapons and supplies. We're staving off starvation, even if we all go to bed hungry.

“As for weapons, that was a tough one. But we have very good engineers, many factories, and many desperate people who needed work. When we began running low on gunpowder, we started making pneumatic guns. They're a bit more finicky than regular firearms, but they don't need gunpowder or primers. We've melted down almost everything in the city to make bullets. Even an old silver mine in the western edge of the city, that had been played out two hundred years ago, has been reopened to scrape out any metals still under the ground.”

Keir spoke up before General Ajani could ask another question. “How many people do you have?”

“Around 800,000 in the city itself. In the mountains near the city, anywhere between twenty and fifty thousand. They keep on the move, hide in old mines, and only a few come to the city to trade. Those are pretty tight-lipped about where and how they live.”

“General Ajani, we already have plans to reach the Crystal Mountains by next winter. Do you believe we could do something to speed things up a little?”

The General's tiny smile became bigger. “If you can keep us supplied with the undead, it's possible. We'll need to change our plans, this won't be a hit and run affair, we'll be fighting at least several pitched battles, which I'd have preferred to avoid. However to save the city and that many people, I'm willing to take the risk.”

The Captain and Mage Mette both broke into smiles, and the quiet desperation that hung over them disappeared at hearing of their city's salvation. “Thank you, General Ajani, Mage Keira. We can't offer much in terms of support until you reach the city. However we can make some noise, forcing the demons to focus more of their forces on the siege. That should help take some of the pressure off of you.”

Von cleared his throat. “I'm sorry to bring this up, but the Eldritch Council would like Mage Keira and our own forces to head to the coast. They have their own plans for an offensive using her undead.”

The General scowled at the mage. “We are still discussing our options. This new information should help sway the final decision. And when you send your message to the Council, remind them that I and Mage Keira are their allies, not under their direct command.”

“Of course, General. I'll make sure they understand that,” the mage said, bowing his head.

Nodding back, the General smiled at the newcomers. “Now then, I'll send orders for a spot to be cleared for your airship behind the lines, but it is safe where it is for now. I'd like to invite your officers and mages to supper in three hours. We can discuss things more comfortably there, and there are some officials from the camp who will want to meet you. I'll also have hot meals prepared for your men. Is that satisfactory?”

“Yes, General Ajani. That is most satisfactory,” the Captain said. “I'll let my men know, they'll appreciate something other than fish and demon meat.”

“Colonel Monero, please see them back to their airship, and find out how many seats we'll need. Gentlemen, if you'll forgive me but I have other duties to attend to.”

With a round of good-byes, the three men left. The General than turned to Von and Keir. “Mage Von, I'd like to speak to Mage Keira in private.”

“Of course, General.” Getting to his feet, the mage left them alone.

The General poured them both a glass of wine. “The Eldritch Council won't agree to this endeavour you know.”

“Yes. They want me under their control,” Keir said.

“Or dead. Mage Aleksander has been asking for more and more details on our coming campaign, and coming up with some well thought out reasons why we shouldn't risk it.”

“And I'm sure they're all merely out of concern for my safety as well as your men.”

“Of course. What will you do if you are ordered to the coast?”

“While I may not be a member of the Council, I will do my best to protect what's left of the continent and fight the demons. Even if I was the monster history claims I am, there isn't really another option available.” He didn't elaborate further, letting the General decide if that meant he'd follow orders or not.

“What if you went to Cristal Fleche in the airship?”

Keir sat upright in his chair in surprise, that thought had never occurred to him. “That is an interesting idea.”

“With you in the city, I'll need to go and get you. We can't let you run around without someone ensuring you are behaving yourself. And we still need your knowledge and power.”

“What about you? You won't have a necromancer to help you when you go on the offensive.”

“How long will it take to teach your students enough that they can continue learning on their own?”

“Three or four weeks at least for the top three. About two months for the rest. If I take the three for private tutoring and push them as hard as I can, they'll be barely competent in two.”

“You have a month,” General Ajani said. “I can quietly work things out with the Captain in that time, and keep the Council off our backs until you slip away, with my permission of course. Saving the city will not only help raise morale, but it will be a strategic location for defending our gains and striking further into demon held territory.”

“General, I think we have a plan. I'll make sure you have the necromancers you need for the spring, and I'll leave the planning in your capable hands. I think we can both agree, the less time I spend with the newcomers, the better.”

General Ajani nodded, and raised his cup in a toast. “To a future free of demons.”

Keir could definitely toast to that.

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

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, look at background info, see snippets of potential stories, and have a chance to choose what I write next, you can support me on my Patreon page.

Keir stood behind his three students, Blau, the lame boy, Katalia, the angry girl, and Kazmer, the boy who used both necromancy and fire magic. They didn't know it, but this was going to be their last lesson with him. They each had a cage with a live rat inside, some pests that had been caught near the warehouse of food. There were a dozen rats for each of them in a large cage off to the side.

“See the flow of magic in the rat, the green threads of life that let you know it's alive. We want to cut it. Most other magic has to do it by brute force, destroying the physical body to release the living energy. Necromancy is the opposite of life, we can damage or extinguish it with a touch. If you need to be secretive in your dealings, you can put a grain of corruption inside of it that will slowly grow like a cancer. The person will be dead in a few hours or days depending on their health. But we are in a war, we don't have time to be slow or gentle. Weave your magic into a blade like I showed you. When you have it, slice the rat in half.”

They stumbled through the process. He'd only shown them how to make a knife that morning, and it wasn't second nature yet. Watching the threads clumsily form blades that were invisible to those without magic sight, he nodded in satisfaction. They were actually a little faster than he'd expected they'd be.

Blau brought his blade down first, a perfect blow to the rat's neck. It didn't even squeak as it died. Kazmer was next, clumsily striking the rat in the back. A thin trail of smoke rose from the shrieking rat before it died. The boy still hadn't quite learned how to separate his fire magic from necromancy, but it had been necromantic magic that killed the animal.

Katalia brought her own weave down. It was more like a rod than a knife, crushing and snapping the life energy rather than cutting it. That was fine for killing something small or weak. But a healthy opponent would merely be injured, not killed.

Ghosts replaced the dead rats with live ones. The students let the blades go and began weaving new ones. They would keep practising until every rat was dead.

Going to Katalia's side, Keir asked, “You hate the demons right?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Her voice was hoarse, not with tears, but anger. “They killed my parents, my fiance, my entire village.”

“You're using your anger as a cudgel. It's controlling your magic, making it blunt and brutal. You need to hone it, focus on one specific thing. Turn your anger into hate and rage. Your magic is the only weapon you have to release it. Who do you miss the most?”

“My Ma... My Leandro.”

“He was your fiance?”

“Yes.”

“He died to protect you.”

“Yes. We spent our last night together, then I ran and he stayed to slow the demons.” A few tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Focus on him. Think of the life you could have had together. The children you should have had with him. Growing old together. Happy and content. Remember how it was stolen from you.”

Blackness rose from within the girl, grabbing the neutral magic that surrounded them, turning it as black as the threads coming from her heart. It started to weave itself into long cudgel of utter blackness.

He pointed at the rat. “Picture that as a demon. You need a blade to kill it properly. Only a blade can make the demons pay for taking Leandro from you.”

The cudgel turned into a spear. It flew through the air, piercing the rat, slashing it's life force in half. It was dead before it even realized it.

Patting Katalia on the shoulder, he gave her a small smile. “Very good. Now do it again.”

Captain Cilus Dobeliet took a seat across from the Council representative Mage Aleksandar, doing his best to keep his feelings from showing. The mage had done an admirable job of stringing things along for the last month, promising nothing, yet making it sound like he was making concessions. Still, Cilius would have left three weeks ago if he hadn't had the promise from General Ajani and Mage Keira.

Mage Aleksandar poured two cups of wine for them. It wasn't a good wine, but it was alcohol and in these times any alcohol was acceptable.

“Are you certain you must leave tomorrow, Captain?” the mage asked. “You've done a remarkable job of scouting out the region for us.”

“Unfortunately we must. The weather promises to be good for the next week. If we want to make it back to Cristele Fleche, now is the best time. Thank you for the supplies, particularly the wine, it's been too long since we've had any,” he said. Then he allowed himself a small frown. “You're quite sure the Council won't agree to an overland march to the city?”

“I'm very sorry. The Council is quite certain the Demons will launch an overwhelming assault on this region. We'd be marching our men into a meat grinder that would rival the worst days of the Thunder Campaign. Even if we wanted to take the risk, we don't have those types of numbers anymore. But as we've said, with the attention focused here, we can launch a naval offensive from the Merirosvo Confederacy. From a beachhead on the Winter Pearl coast, it's only two hundred miles to Cristele Fleche. We'll have a force capable of lifting the siege temporarily , and a supply train right behind it. We may not be able to keep it open, but we'll make sure you have enough food and weapons to hold out for at least another year.”

It would take months to prepare such a fleet, if they even could. And a landing on the coast wouldn't be easy. Expecting an army to march from the coast to the city, without near constant reinforcement was hoping for a miracle. Still he couldn't show his true feelings. “And the airship plans. Those haven't changed any minds?”

“It will take time, but a factory is being set up to start producing them. In a year we'll have a small fleet ready to go on the offensive. We're also using the plans to purchase some of the new weapons from our allies on other continents. A year from now, with our new weapons, and time to prepare a new offensive army, we'll have the forces ready to relieve your city.”

The mage spoke with such sincerity and eagerness, Captain Dobeliet wondered if the man actually believed what he was saying. The Council had gotten what they needed from his city, at best they'd give a token effort to relieve Cristele Fleche. He should have demanded something more, but General Ajani had made handing over the plans for The Thorn part of his demand to get Mage Keira.

“That's good to hear. But please make sure the Council understands we need some relief this year. We can't hold out one more winter, without support,” he said.

“I've emphasized that in all my reports. And when we get back to the coast, I'll personally tell my superiors about the situation. Don't worry, we'll do everything we possibly can,” Mage Aleksandar said, still sounding completely honest.

Taking a sip of his wine, the Captain smiled in thanks. He hoped it was as believable as the mage sounded.

“I really wish I was going with you, sir,” Jaris said.

“I need you here to help teach the students,” Keir said. “The three I taught know the basic spells, and should be able to teach the rest. But no one has your experience. You can tell them where they're making mistakes, correct them, and help them improve. No one else on the continent can do the same.”

The ghost helped him with his cloak. “Sir, after all the work you've done here, are you sure you want to abandon it? This new city is completely unknown to you.”

“Jaris, I know you're called my sober second thought, but there is no real choice. I need to get out from under the Council's thumb. They may be trustworthy, but I can't risk my freedom or my life in the hopes that people who are clearly unhappy I'm alive, won't do something stupid.”

He opened the window, giving his room one last look. The maids had been ordered out for the afternoon, to give him time to study one of the new ghosts. The less they knew about his plans, the safer they would be.

Weaving a spell that curved the light around him, but still allowed him to see, he created a ghostly steed. Turning to his friend one last time, he smiled, even though the ghost wouldn't see it. “Good-bye Jaris. I expect to see you in a few months, we still have plenty of work ahead of us.”

Bowing, Jaris gave him a small smile. “Of course, sir. I won't disappoint you. Stay safe.”

Climbing out the window, Keir mounted his steed and flew off into the sky. Clothes and important items had all been quietly moved to the airship over the last week, they wanted no one to know what was happening until the last possible minute. Racing over the treetops, it seemed like the plan was going to work.

Mirek tried to keep warm. The day was bitterly cold, and he almost wished he was inside the underground shelter with the rest of his squad, where the stove kept it above freezing. But orders demanded that at least one person be out watching for signs of trouble at all times. Someone had to be outside for the next thirty minutes, and he wanted to be that person.

The airship was taking off for the last time. He'd seen it land and take off several times already, but it always filled him with amazement. It was one of the few things that managed to lift him from his depression. Knowing it was going for good, filled him with a sense of hopelessness. The last bit of wonder in his life was going away. Now only death waited for him.

As he watched the General and some others talk to the captain, the air shimmered and a familiar figure appeared out of nowhere. His heart ached at the sight of the woman he had once loved. What was the Necromancer doing? He wished he was closer, it would be the perfect time to take a shot.

Then the Necromancer started climbing the ladder. What was going on? Was the monster going away? This couldn't be happening. How was he to put Toshka to rest?

Tossing off his gloves, he brought his rifle up to his shoulder. The distance was bad, but he was a good shot. There was almost no time to aim, silently praying to the Mother and the Father, he pulled the trigger.

Landing just beside the airship, Keir dismounted and removed the spell. General Ajani, Mage Von, his bodyguard Lieutenant Floria wearing a regular military uniform, and Captain Dobeliet were discussing some last minute things as The Thorn prepared to take off.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded, looking at Von.

“The Council needs a representative in Crystele Fleche. I'm currently the second highest ranking Council mage here, it seemed appropriate that I take the position,” Von said.

“The Council isn't part of this.”

General Ajani raised his hand, silencing both of them. “Mage Von is going at my suggestion. He has experience that will help our allies, and he gives this mission the necessary legitimacy. If you want me to march on the city come spring, I need as much support as I can get.”

“Very well,” Keir said, almost spitting the words out. He'd thought he was going to be free of the geas, but with Von there, he would be in the same situation he was now.

Nodding in satisfaction, the General allowed himself a small smile. “Now, there was an unfortunate avalanche on the pass. It will take several hours to clear the way, and the farewell party is on the wrong side of it. There is no point in waiting any longer now that you're here.”

“If you'll get onboard, we can be in the air in five minutes,” Captain Dobeliet said.

Grabbing the ladder, Keir began climbing. As he was reaching up to grab the hand of a skinny soldier, he felt a hammer blow on his back. A moment later there was a crack of thunder. He felt himself grow cold, his hand slipped from the ladder. There was shouting. Then everything went black.

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

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, look at background info, see snippets of potential stories, and have a chance to choose what I write next, you can support me on my Patreon page.

Rage was not something Aleksandar was used to. He didn't even like getting angry. However, since coming to the cursed fort, he was becoming well acquainted with the feeling. But he hadn't felt the fiery emotion that made his hands shake and his throat tight, since he'd been a child.

“General Ajani, what were you thinking, sending Mage Keira and Mage Von to Crystele Fleche?” he demanded.

“I was thinking only of how to save 800,000 people,” the General replied, far too coolly for his liking. “Mage Keira will ensure they're able to continue fighting and survive until they can be relieved. Mage Von will keep her in line and working for the Council.”

“We had a plan to resupply them. There was no reason to send Mage Keira to the city. We have no idea what he'll do so far from Council control.”

“With all due respect, Mage Aleksandar, that plan is a pipe dream. There is no way the Council can resupply the city from the sea. They knew it, and you know it. The only possibility of saving Crystele Fleche is if we march there.”

“And how will you do it without the Necromancer?”

“We've got three mages who can raise the dead, they're going to teach the rest of the students. It's not going to be easy, but I'll make it work.”

“The Council won't support you.”

For the first time Aleksandar saw the General smile. It wasn't a pleasant smile. It was the smile of a cat looking at a mouse. “Yes they will. You need the Necromancer under your control. You can't let her build an army with a city behind her, without getting involved. An army of the dead, with almost a million people who can build weapons and airships, is a powerful force. If they know you've abandoned them, how do you think they'll react? If they survive the demons, make contact with the refugees who are still alive on the islands, the mountains and, along the coast, who have lost all faith with the Council, they'll quickly gain allies. The Council can't risk it.”

“You don't even know if she's still alive. From what I understand she was dying as they loaded her onto the airship.”

“She was badly injured, Mage Von and Mage Mette were working on her as the airship departed. Von will pass on word when we know how the Necromancer is doing.”

“And what of the assassin? Why did he shoot her?” Aleksandar hoped there would be a good answer for this. He'd already had some of the Lleial muttering darkly as he walked past, with looks that made him want to cast a shield spell. The fanatics had made no secret of their distrust of him, but they'd never made him worry about his safety.

“Mirek was the former lover of the body that Mage Keira took over. What he thought he was doing when he shot her is anyone's guess. He killed himself less than a minute afterwards. We'd need a necromancer to learn anything from him.”

“Damn!” The curse caught him by surprise. Like the rage he was feeling, he hadn't sworn since he was a young boy. Still, the situation was appropriate. If they could have captured the assassin alive, they could turn him over to the Lleial for questioning, and prove it was the act of a madman. With him dead, at least some people would think the Council was behind it.

General Ajani nodded. “I've already talked to all my officers. They're passing around the word that Mage Keira is still alive, and that this was the act of a single individual. There are also rumours going around that come spring we will be marching to Crystele Fleche to meet the Necromancer and his new army. I'll be confirming that rumour tonight.”

“This fait accompli of yours, could be considered mutiny. You're deciding the spring offensive without orders, and you know how the Council is leaning.”

“And if I don't, we'll see the Lleial, and a large part of the living army coming for your head. They might spare mine, but I don't know if I'll be able to effectively control them afterwards. So contact the Council and let them know what's going on. Then, if you really want to keep the Council in control of the situation, you'll be standing by my side at six this evening, backing me to the hilt.”

For all the power the Council had, Aleksandar realized that in this place, his position was as weak as sand. A single wrong move and he would be just one more casualty in a war that had already seen tens of millions killed and forgotten. He could refuse, rally what forces were loyal to the Council and make a stand. With the mages supporting him, they would have a chance, but it was a slim chance. And he was no leader, merely a scholar. The only reason he was in this position was that he was expendable.

Looking in the General's eyes, he knew what would happen if he refused to support the plan, at least for now. The rage he'd been feeling died down, replaced by bitterly cold fear.

“I'll be there,” he said, his voice low and weak.

Despite the lack of windows and being at least twelve stories up, General Abanda could still hear the cheers and music coming from the city streets. The arrival of his expeditionary army and the steel fleet in the city, with their wondrous new weapons, twenty thousand fresh fighting men, and over a thousand mages, had given the city, and the entire continent it's first reason to celebrate in over a year. He wondered if they would still be celebrating if they knew it was unlikely any more reinforcements would be coming.

His second in command, Water Mage Imamu Jecha sat in one of the exquisitely made chairs, patiently waiting to see the Eldritch Council. Abanda wished he could be so patient. But his mind was racing, just like it had from the day he'd been given command of the expiditionary force. He still remembered leaving the continent over a year ago with the remnants of a shattered force of what had once been his proud army. That army had numbered over three-hundred-thousand men when it arrived in Erebu, one of twenty such forces. It had been whittled away to barely fifty-thousand over two years of fighting, and that had been with a steady stream of reinforcements until the final, bitter withdrawal over the Shield Mountains.

To be back on the continent of blood and horror, he wasn't sure how to feel. If fighting had to be done, it was best to do it as far from home as possible. And after a decade of genocidal war, what was left of the Council soldiers were some of the hardest men he'd ever met. The weak ones had died, fled, or were in penal companies.

But the Demons had firm grip on the continent. He'd seen them cover the land as far as he could see, and when they'd killed all the ones they could see, more had come. He still saw the things in his nightmares. He heard their shrieks, saw them swamping fortifications in minutes, that would have taken humans weeks to overcome. He still dreamed of them slaughtering fleeing refugees and soldiers like they were rats.

He did not want to be back on the continent. He could feel it in his bones that this time he would not be returning home.

The large ornate doors of the meeting room opened. A servant in black silk robes stepped out and bowed low. “They are ready to see you now, General Abanda, Water Mage Jecha.”

Walking into the Council meeting room, Abanda was struck by the riches that filled it. The walls were made of obsidian, jade, gold, and silver, each one showing a scene from the history of the Eldritch Council, starting with the creation of the Council after the War of the Dead. Another wall showed the completion of Kefalaio, built on the ruins of Limani, as proof that the Necromancer's evil could be overcome. A third wall was to commemorate the signing of The Great Peace a hundred-fifty years ago, which had made large scale war a memory on the continent.

He didn't have much time to look at the art, his eyes were drawn to the Council members that awaited him. The three were dressed in the blood red robes showing they were the highest level of mages. He began to bow, when he realized there was a fourth woman sitting in the corner of the room. She was ancient, hunched over in her chair, wrinkles covered her face, yet her eyes were a piercing green that seemed to see right through him. It was The Lady, First Among Equals.

Abanda almost stopped his bow in shock. The Lady was seldom seen by anyone who wasn't at the head of the Council. When she spoke, her word was law on the continent. Even outside of Council territory, leaders considered her words carefully. There was no one else in the world as powerful as she was when it came to healing magic, and no one could truly say how old she was.

Training allowed him to keep his composure. Rising from his bow, he held out an envelope. “Thank you for agreeing to see me. I have a letter from Grand General Ekon, of the Alkebulan Alliance, detailing my orders to assist you in defeating the Demons.”

The servant who had invited him in came forward, his head bowed to take the envelope.

“It is good to see our allies have not given up hope in our fight,” the woman in the centre said. Like her companions she had a veil covering her face, a sign of humbleness and devotion to the Council above herself. “We are a little surprised that you have come at this time. The Bitter Sea in winter is hardly an ideal time to travel.”

“With our steel ships, the currents are of little danger,” he said. “As for why we came, I have been ordered to speak clearly. Two months ago, we sensed a large necromantic ritual take place on the continent. Our diplomats have been unable to get a clear answer on what happened. We are hoping that you will be more forthcoming now that we have once again come to your assistance.”

Before setting sail, he'd been given the message to ask. It was blunt and some of the diplomats had practically torn their hair out when they heard it, but the Grand General wanted answers. If the Council wanted support, they needed to provide answers.

“That is reasonable,” the woman said. “We were hoping to keep it quiet until the spring, however rumours have been spreading like wildfire. The Necromancer Keir has been resurrected after three-hundred years, as a young woman. She is now going by Mage Keira and is working with the Eldritch Council to fight the Demons that plague our lands. With our combined forces, we have already cleared a sizable region around the city of Kodor.”

That the Necromancer had been revived had been a possibility, yet Abanda had not quite been able to believe it. The idea of resurrection was a story told to children and the gullible. Hearing it confirmed directly from one of the highest leaders on the continent was not what he had expected.

“That is remarkable news. Would it be possible to meet her? My leaders will be most interested to learn more about her.” he said.

“Unfortunately no. A month ago, Crystele Fleche, a city we had thought was lost two years ago was able to contact us with an airship. They are besieged but holding strong. With the mountain passes secure, the Council agreed to send Mage Keira to the city alongside one of our most trusted mages to help defend the city. They are on their way there now.”

“Mage Keira is strong enough to help the city on her own?”

“With support, she is quite powerful. And after all the death we have seen, the Council could not leave a city of eight-hundred-thousand perish without doing everything we possibly can. So we are planning a new offensive as soon as the pass is clear to march from Kodor to Crystele Fleche.”

Abanda was astonished. A year ago, the Council had been worried about holding the passes. Now they were planning on attacking the Demons. He wasn't sure where this Crystele city was, but if it had been besieged for two years it had to be hundreds, possibly a thousand miles, from the Shield Mountains. No one but a mad man had even contemplated an offensive of that size in the last six years.

The Council member continued. “With your new weapons, you will be able to provide a very welcome assistance to this offensive. Alongside our own soldiers, airships, and the undead army that has been created, we are very confident we can lift the siege and regain valuable territory from the Demons. So we are officially requesting your assistance in this matter.”

Bringing his right hand to his heart, Abanda said, “I will need to ask my superiors, this is a little beyond what they had planned for the expeditionary force. However I am confident they will agree to this. We have lost too many sons and daughters to the Demons to refuse a chance to begin balancing the scales.”

Sneaking a glance to The Lady, he was surprised to see that her expression had not changed at all. He would have expected to at least see a sign of happiness or relief at his words. He wondered how much he wasn't being told.

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

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, look at background info, see snippets of potential stories, and have a chance to choose what I write next, you can support me on my Patreon page.

Keir moaned on his bed.

Every breath was a jagged spike of bitterly cold agony. The pulsing of his blood was a hammer, pounding inside him, bringing pain with every strike. Sweat beaded on his skin, he was so hot. It felt like he was on fire. His throat cried out for water. His tongue was a thick slab of dried, useless meat, filling his mouth, choking him, keeping him from speaking.

He wished he would die. Death had been peaceful. Painless.

Never in his long life had he felt so much pain.

A cold, wet, cloth wiped the sweat from his forehead. A small trickle of water found it's way into his mouth.

More. He needed so much more.

“Can we give her morphine now?” a girl asked.

He couldn't place the voice at first, then he realized it was his daughter, Estelle. Forcing his arm to move despite the pain, he reached out to hold her. He hadn't heard her voice in so long. Something had happened to her. Trying to think was impossible. Memories and thoughts slipped through his fingers like water.

“I don't want to risk it,” another voice said. “She is still so weak, much more will kill her.”

Who were they talking about? Why did they keep saying her?

“I think she's awake,” a third person said.

A small, well calloused hand encircled his. He couldn't say exactly whose it was, but it was a womans, so it was probably Estelle's. Despite the pain, he managed to smile.

“Regua,” his daughter said, “you're safe. We're on the airship. Just sleep for now.”

'Regua,' why was she calling him that? What did she mean, airship? Why wouldn't they give him some opium? Or just use a spell to dull the pain.

Moving his hand and trying to think had taken too much energy. Despite the pain he slid into unconsciousness.

“Father!” Estelle shouted, jumping into his arms.

Keir laughed as his children ran up to him, their cakes and pastries forgotten. Swinging his eldest daughter into the air, he hugged the excited ten year old to his chest for a moment. Then he knelt down so the others could hug him. He'd been gone for half a year talking with his vassals and allies, and they all missed him. He felt the same way.

His eldest son, Patrick stood off to the side. At fourteen and wearing his new ensign uniform, the boy was too proud to run and shout like a child. He looked more like his mother, with a tall, lean body and reddish-blond hair. In the black uniform he didn't look like much, still too young, with a lot of growing to do. But Keir knew his son was an expert rider and quick with a sword. He'd make a fine officer.

After a few minutes with the younger children, he went to Patrick. “I've been hearing good things about you. Captain Hansen is very impressed with you.”

Patrick somehow stood up even straighter and his chest puffed up. “Thank you, father. I am doing my best.”

Smiling, he hugged the boy. He didn't make it too long, or too tight, he didn't want to embarrass his son. Patrick returned it, allowing himself to loosen up a little.

“I missed you,” Keir said. “I'm sorry I wasn't here to see you get your sword.”

“It's all right, father. You have your duties.”

Stepping back, his smile disappeared. “I'm glad you understand, Patrick. And now you have your own duties. In three months you'll be leaving home. We're looking at war with the Western Coalition. The armies are being raised and as an officer you'll be going to the front.”

His son turned a little pale, but otherwise hid his concern. “Wherever you send me, I'll make sure you're proud of me.”

“I know you will, that's why you'll be close at my side. You'll be an aide in the Undying Army. I won't be giving you orders, officially you'll be so far down, the aides of my aides will tell you what to do. But you'll be learning how to be an officer and lead an army.”

The worry dropped from Patrick's face, replaced by a grin that nearly split the teenagers face. It took him several seconds to speak.“Thank you, father. I won't disappoint you.”

“You'd better not,” Keir said, patting his son on the shoulder. “Ensigns that disappoint their superiors quickly learn to never do so again. Officers have many creative punishments that will ensure you never make the same mistake again.”

Looking at his older children, Keir said, “Now who would like to go horse riding? I've been riding around in carriages or ships for too long. I need some exercise?”

Consciousness came slowly to Keir. The pain was still there, but distant. His head seemed to be floating.

“You're a stubborn person, Keir,” a man said.

A name appeared through the fog that filled Keir's mind, Von. Why was that name important?

“Most people would be dead. We needed to use two men for a blood transfusion, and you're lucky we had a very good healer on board. An inch to the left and your spine would have been severed. Two inches higher and you wouldn't have a heart.”

Keir tried to smile. Of course he was stubborn, he was an emperor. And he hadn't had it handed to him, he'd fought for every bit of power. No one would have reached his position if they weren't stubborn or hard to kill.

A hand touched his shoulder. “We'll reach Crystele Fleche in two or three days. Once we're there, you'll be transferred to the Mayoral home and given the best possible care.”

He wondered why they were going to Crystele Fleche. He vaguely recalled the town, a mining place, only worth remembering for the new silver mine. Valuable but not any place an emperor would visit. Where were his wives? His children? His friends and servants? What had happened?

The confusion stayed with him as he fell asleep.

“Haven't you gotten enough?” Meena asked.

Keir looked down at the beautiful face of his youngest wife, who was sitting comfortably on his lap. She had been with him for only a year, but her stomach was swollen with twins. The children and her company was pleasant, her singing and dancing was a wonder to behold, but those were the least of the benefits he'd gained from marrying her.

He'd married her to seal his alliance with the Northern Merchants League. The string of city states and their villages were militarily feeble, but their merchant fleets and trade connections were invaluable. If he'd invaded them, he'd have gotten their ports, but the gold and ships would have sailed away, leaving him with yet more expenses and rebellious citizens. By making them allies and protectorates, rather than subjects, while binding them through marriage to himself, his ministers and generals, it allowed him to get everything he needed.

And as he'd discovered, Meena was not only beautiful, but clever.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“You control almost the entire continent. Only they Gold Coast and the far south remain out of your grasp. They're too weak to truly threaten you, but they'll fight to the death to remain free. Leave them be, as they impotently spit and curse you. There is no need to conquer them,” she said.

“They're stirring up the other countries against us. My diplomats have been thrown out of half the oversea courts, thanks to them. If I don't retaliate, the rest will be gone within five years.”

“You have gold and silver. Your cities are overflowing with craftsmen who have things the other continents need. Stop thinking only of soldiers and honour. Think like a merchant. Let the money flow freely for now, buy allies and goodwill, purchase your way into their markets. It will cost you now, but down the road, you'll earn it all back, without bloodshed and the cost of pacifying more cities.”

He snorted. “I need that money here. The new highways, canals, locks, and aqueducts are bleeding my treasury dry. And every day my enemies are fomenting rebellion where they can. Tax collectors are only able to travel with a small army in the eastern territories, and bandits are plaguing the Shield Mountains. If I don't crush them, it will only grow worse.”

“If you take the Gold Coast, how many soldiers do you think it will require? How many more will you need to keep there, holding it under your control? The bandits problem will become ten times worse. The cost of pacifying the region will be more expensive then bribing your way into the oversea markets.”

She was right, it would be expensive in both men and money. But if he did pacify them, they'd be a valuable resource, and the last threat to his rule would be gone. The Gold Coast and the city states of the far south were a bleeding sore. He'd deal with them, just like he'd dealt with all his enemies.

Moaning, Keir winced as hands lifted him from his bed, placing him on a stretcher. He didn't know how many days he'd been slipping in and out of consciousness, reliving old memories in between bouts of pain. A blanket was wrapped tightly around him.

“Take it nice and slow,” Von said. “Don't bump her, she's still in bad shape.”

Why were they calling him, her?

They carried him through narrow corridors until they came to an outside door. A freezing wind blew in, bringing snowflakes with it. Opening his eyes, Keir saw he was being carried down some wooden stairs by two large men. The sky was cloudy, and it looked to be either just after dawn, or a little before sunset. He'd lost all sense of time.

Turning his head, he saw a crowd of people being held well back by a line of soldiers. They were all filthy and scrawny. The uniforms were dull light-brown, like undyed wool. The civilians were covered in rags, relying on layers of thin, stained clothes for warmth. He'd seldom seen so many people so starved. In the dim light, they looked like skeletons pretending to be humans.

Thinking was still hard. Between the pain, the drugs, and the injuries, he couldn't quite remember what was from the past and what was the present, but he remembered that he was here to save the people. He needed them on his side. He needed to show them all that he was the Necromancer.

“Stop.”

No one heard his whisper.

Clearing his throat, he desperately tried to get some spit into his dry mouth. “Stop,” he said again.

“Regua, we need to get you inside,” Floria said.

“I need-” he paused to catch his breath, “-to show them, I'm alive.”

“No,” she said. “Rest. When you are healthy you can raise them an army. For now you need to sleep.”

“She's right,” Von said. “If you try to move you'll probably rip open your stitches, and that could kill you.”

“Need to make a show. Make them have hope,” he insisted. He tried to raise his arm.

Von frowned and shook his head. “Keir, you will not do anything that could hurt yourself until you're healthy.”

His hand went back down. No matter how hard he tried to move, his body refused to do anything. Silently he was put into a warm carriage specially made for a stretcher. With his stretcher locked in place, Von and Floria sat beside him, making sure the stretcher handles didn't come loose. As the carriage slowly made it's way through the streets, Keir fell back to sleep.

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

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, look at background info, see snippets of potential stories, and have a chance to choose what I write next, you can support me on my Patreon page.

** Sorry about the flaky posting. Was very sick for the last little while, but I'm feeling better, so everything from here on should go smoothly.

The Lord Mayor sat in his chair, his city council spread out to either side. There wasn't any of the hope or relief Von had expected when he and General Ajani had made their plans. But none of them had expected a man mad with grief to nearly kill Keir. Instead of the triumphant arrival of a powerful mage who could raise a small army with the wave of a hand, they had a young woman who still may die.

“We've read your reports, Captain Dobeliet. Now I want to hear it in your own words,” Lord Mayor Julius said, “what can we expect?”

“Sir, while The Eldritch Council was not willing to spend the resources necessary to launch a relief campaign initially. As long as Mage Keira survives, I believe that they will do whatever is necessary, to see her safe return,” the Captain said.

Lady Auch, who was in charge of food stores and distribution leaned forward in her chair. “Why is that?”

“Well my Lady, I saw the army of the undead that had been raised. There weren't merely ghosts, skeletons and animated corpses, but flesh golems, banshees, flying monsters I've never heard of, giant corpses, faceless things that could take the appearance of living people, and several more. It was an army and they obeyed the officers like properly trained soldiers. The Council wasn't keen on letting Mage Keira come here. From what I understand they want to keep her under their control so she doesn't start a new empire. To do that they need to come get her.”

“She's a girl of what, eighteen years? How can you be sure she's truly the Necromancer?”

Von stepped forward. “With all due respect, Lady Auch, I was the one who resurrected Mage Keira. She may look young, but that was due to the desperate situation and lack of appropriate bodies. The ritual required a whole body, with the organs intact, that had been dead for no longer than a day. The unfortunate young lady had died of malnutrition and the flu. With a demon army about to attack, it was impossible to wait for an older, male, body.”

The response didn't seem to settle their doubts. Louis Bardot, spokesman of the Engineers Union, noisily cleared his throat. “We had expected to see the Necromancer and her army. Getting a girl on her deathbed, has not helped moral.”

Rubbing the smooth scar tissue of his stump, a bad habit he'd picked up in the last month, Von forced himself to keep his neutral expression. “We did not expect an assassin to shoot her in the back as she was boarding the airship. As soon as she recovers, I can promise that she'll raise a powerful army for you.”

“She's a young lady, little more than a child. You can assure us as much as you like, what we need are results.”

“I have to agree,” Lady Auch said. “Captain Dobeliet, you have disappointed us. We put a great deal of resources and hope in your expedition and all you seem to have done is anger the Eldritch Council and given us three more mouths to feed.”

The Lord Mayor tapped his silver mace. “I don't think Captain Dobeliet has disappointed us just yet. We have a promise from the Council that they'll try to relieve us this summer. The supposed Necromancer is not dead, and will be able to prove herself to us when she is sufficiently healed. For now we have one simple need, keeping the moral of the city up. Tomorrow morning we'll announce to the city the planned summer campaign. Letting them know that we are once again in touch with the rest of the continent, and they are coming to our aid, should help reduce the suicides.”

“Of course, Lord Mayor,” Lady Auch said at once. “I'll see that the soup kitchens spread the message when they open at dawn.”

“And I'll prepare a citywide prayer of thanks,” Elder Sister Otillie said.

Louis Bardot nodded, “I'll let my men know about that. It will help a little.”

Slowly the rest of the council members nodded in agreement.

The Necromancer didn't look like a monster come back to life. Looking down at the young woman who was being tended to by healers, Elder Sister Otillie couldn't help thinking how weak and fragile she seemed. She didn't have the starved look of most people in the city, but the pale, almost bloodless complexion and sweat soaked skin was far from healthy. If this girl was to be the saviour of the city, she would need weeks, maybe months to heal.

Maybe her colleagues were right, and this girl wasn't the person they'd been hoping for.

A faint whisper came from her lips, “Estelle.”

The Lleial bodyguard, who was scarcely older than the Necromancer, reached out to gently hold the tiny hand. “It's alright, I'm here.”

“She thinks you're her daughter?” Sister Otillie asked. Since learning the Necromancer was reborn she'd read every book she could on the man. With the hundreds of works about him, she was only a quarter of the way through the stacks. He had had an eventful life and even after his death, his actions had shaped much of the world.

“Sometimes,” the young warrior said.

Otillie wondered what she could say to that. Any attempt to talk to her beyond sharing information, had proven futile. From what she'd heard the warrior had only left the Necromancers side to visit the privy and clean herself. She even slept in a chair by the bed, with a pistol clutched in her hand.

The Necromancer opened her eyes. They were glassy, but there seemed to be some comprehension behind them. “Where am I?” she asked.

Before anyone else could reply, the Lleial spoke. “You're in Cristele Fleche, Regua.”

“The silver mine? No. That was then. Under siege. Need to fight. Need an army.”

“You need to rest, Regua. There is no fighting now.”

Wincing at the weakness and confusion in the girl who was supposed to be the most powerful mage in the world, Otillie wondered if even The Mother would be able to fully heal her. And then she gasped in shock.

Shadows appeared in the air. Slowly they coalesced into a dozen phantom horsemen. They were pale things, barely more than mist, in the sunlight. But they were perfectly formed, with lances at the ready. Blank faced, they awaited their orders.

“Protect... the... city,” the Necromancer whispered.

Saluting, the ghosts flew towards the window only to fade out of existence as they touched the glass and bricks.

Everyone stared at the young woman who had so recently been on the verge of death, and could still die if she was unlucky. She had passed out again, whatever energy she'd had was gone. Despite all of that, somehow she'd cast a complicated spell that no one had been able to do in centuries, while almost unconscious.

Otillie looked up, wondering if The Mother and The Father had sent an answer to her prayers. Or would the girl die, like all her other hopes.

His entire body ached.

The bandages around his chest were too tight. If he had the strength he might have tried loosening them, but he couldn't even lift the blanket that covered him. His stomach growled, his throat was dry and he needed to piss.

“Help,” he whispered.

“Regua, how can I help?” Floria asked.

“Water.”

The sound of pouring water made him wince. Groaning, he did what he could to help as his body guard lifted him a little and placed some pillows behind his back and head. Glass touched his lips and the warm water was delicious. Slowly, each gulp causing pain to blossom in his chest, he drained the cup.

“Need... to piss,” he said.

The blanket was pushed off his legs and waist. From under the bed Floria took out a bedpan. “This will hurt a little, I need to lift you up,” she told him.

“Just do it.”

Biting his tongue, he tried not to cry out as he put weight on his wound. His nightgown was lifted up, and the cold metal was placed under him. Relieving himself, he was reminded how much easier it was to piss into a bottle while injured.

Closing his eyes, he tried not to think about the young woman, or how she had to wipe him clean. It was one more thing that proved he wasn't himself anymore. Just like his weak body, and the monthly tribulation as Sister Kaja called it.

While Floria went to dump the pan and wash her hands, Keir leaned back, exhausted after that little bit of effort. He was being a fool. He wasn't in his old body anymore. He wasn't a man.

He'd been able to push most of his concerns about his new life aside for weeks. Fighting the demons, planning how to survive, trying to find a way to keep his freedom, it was all too easy to focus on that. But now... he wasn't going to be doing anything for weeks. He had to face reality. So what was he now?

A man in a woman's body.

What did that even mean?

“Here, Regua. Drink this, it will help you heal.” Floria put a metal cup to his mouth.

Sipping in the hot, sweet liquid, Keir felt his eyes grow heavy. Sleep quickly took him away from his worries.

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

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, access to two other stories, Isekai Incorporated and Water Nymph, you can support me on my Patreon page.

Keir leaned against the stack of pillows, grateful that he finally had enough strength to weave a simple anti-pain spell. The drugs he'd been given had made his mind fuzzy and kept him too tired to do much more than sleep. He knew he needed the sleep, he was still too weak to leave his bed. But he also had things to do, or at least to plan.

Unfortunately he didn't have any real information. There were no reports to read, no one was willing to talk to him about the situation, and when he asked for information, he was told to rest. So he was mostly just bored.

Looking out the window didn't show much. Thick frost covered the glass, and the city was covered in sooty smoke, obscuring his view. Apparently while he'd been dead, coal had become the common way of heating. Even the radiator attached to the wall of his room was powered by the black rock. A furnace in the basement heated water, sending scalding hot steam throughout the building. It was efficient, but like so many other things, he wasn't used to it. His healers had been willing to tell him that miners had found a seam of cheap coal in the mine under the city. It wasn't very good, putting out thick, smelly smoke, but they'd been using it to power their industry for the last year.

He felt old. There were so many changes, and he had so little time to learn all of them.

Someone knocked on the door. Floria, gripping her pistol, called out, “Who is it?”

“Mage Von, I'd like to speak to Mage Keira.”

She opened the door, ready to shoot if it was an assassin pretending to be the mage. Keir had to admire her willingness to commit violence on his behalf. It was a useful trait in a bodyguard. She did have a fair bit to learn about her new duties, but at least she had a good base to start from.

“I didn't expect to see you Von,” Keir said.

“I heard you were doing better. I thought I should see it with my own eyes,” the mage replied.

Watching the mage take a seat, Keir decided it was time to do something he'd been avoiding. “Do you have time to talk?”

“Of course. I don't exactly have any duties at the moment. They don't quite know what to do with me yet.”

Turning his head to Floria, Keir smiled. “Can you give Mage Von and I some privacy for an hour?”

“Regua, I don't think it's a good idea to leave you alone,” she said.

“Floria, consider that a direct order. You can guard the door outside if you insist. But I'd prefer it if you got a few hours of sleep in a proper bed.”

Frowning, she nodded. “I'll just be outside.”

With the room free, Keir was able to focus all of his attention on the perplexing mage. They'd spoken many times over the weeks since his resurrection, but most of it was focused on spells, demons, or planning for a battle. What drove the mage, what kept him up at night, why he was willing to risk angering the Council, all of that was a mystery.

“How are you feeling,” Von asked.

“Like I've been shot,” he replied with a grimace. Sighing, he realized he needed to actually talk if he expected the mage to do the same. “I'm surprised I'm not dead. A quarter of an inch in any direction and I probably wouldn't be here.”

“It was very close. You were lucky it was a long shot, and just clipped your ribs on the way out. If it had ricocheted off your bones and done more damage to your body, or had a bit more energy...” Von shook his head, seemingly unwilling to say the obvious.

“Well... thank you. Without your magic I would have died.”

“I didn't do it alone. All the mages on the airship helped out, it's why you survived long enough to get here.”

Rubbing the thick bandage that rested just under his left breast, Keir nodded. “I can believe that. What I can't understand is why?”

“Why did I save you?” the mage asked. He gave a small smile. “I thought it was obvious, we need you.”

“Your Council doesn't think I'm needed. So, why did you decide you need me?”

The smile slipped from Von's face. Keir watched him, noticing how his hand rubbed the stump that had been his left hand. “I've fought this war right from the start. I've been in almost every major campaign. I've seen over two dozen cities fall, and I've lost count of how many towns were abandoned or destroyed. You fought wars, what was the largest group of refugees you ever saw?”

“I didn't count them. But I've seen thousands of dispossessed in camps and slums around recently conquered cities, or fleeing before the fighting started.”

“I've seen road so full of fleeing people you couldn't see the dirt. Sometimes my soldiers and I would take days pushing them aside. Struggling to either get to the front and face the demons, or running to the next line of defence. I've abandoned hundreds of thousands of people to the demons, because if I stopped to help them, we would have all died.”

“That's the lot of the soldier, and their leaders,” Keir said. “Sometimes you need to make sacrifices to do your duty.”

“I know. My duty is why I wake up in the morning. But at some point I realized I couldn't keep sacrificing others, I needed to sacrifice myself.” The smile returned, but this time it was a bitter one. “I could have sacrificed myself in some last stand. Plenty of others have done it when the death and terror became too much for them. Or I could be like General Ajani and put myself in situations where the only options were death or victory. But how would those sacrifices help anyone for more than a few weeks if I was lucky. More likely it would only make a few minutes difference.”

“So you decided to resurrect me.”

“Yes. You were a fairytale. A monster to keep children in line, and to give a reason to keep necromancy illegal. But I knew you were real, I'd spoken to soldiers who guarded your Heart and body. I couldn't go to your body directly. Even with the continent on it's knees, the Council wouldn't allow your return. So I made sure to slowly retreat towards Kodor. I bribed and cajoled officers to give me orders that kept me moving in the right direction. When I had to, I made sure something would happen, preventing me from going where the Council wanted me. Then I finally reached your tomb, and I still couldn't resurrect you. I was in Kodor, preparing a last stand, and High Commander Alder wouldn't let me get close to you.”

Keir watched the mage, searching for any sign of lying or trying to hide the truth. The deep lines that covered the man's face had been placed there by war and suffering. He'd seen similar many times, in the faces of defeated foes, and on his own. The dark brown eyes were hard, but only because they were the only thing holding back the exhaustion and grief, that was hinted at in Von's voice. “So you had to wait for the city to fall before you could resurrect me?”

“Yes,” the single word was almost a snarl. “I wanted to resurrect you to protect the city. We had good walls, supplies, and the men, It wasn't enough, but with you, we could have won. Even after the city fell and we ran to the Keep, it still took weeks of lying, forging orders, and paying off key people to raise you. I was finally able to sacrifice the only things that were important to me. My honour and my duty to the Eldritch Council.”

“So where do you stand now?”

“Like General Ajani, I'm just going to kill the demons. It's the only thing I can do.” Von shook his head, letting out a deep breath. “I've answered your questions, now I have my own. You've been doing your best to build up a power base and avoid getting anywhere near the Council. What are you going to do?”

“Kill the demons, of course,” Keir said with a grin. “I don't have much choice, I can't exactly summon a ship and go somewhere pleasant to continue my research.”

“And what will you do after that?”

“I don't know yet. The demons are a little more important than plans for my retirement.”

Von nodded in understanding.

“Did you really only have a girl's body to use?” Keir asked.

“Yes. Every other body was either damaged, too old, or too young. You seem to be dealing with it fairly well.”

“Only because I've been fighting, badly injured, or trying to avoid dying or becoming a slave. Lying here healing is giving me time to think about it.”

“Have you come to any conclusions?”

“Yes. I don't like it.”

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

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, access to two other stories, Isekai Incorporated and Water Nymph, you can support me on my Patreon page.

The figure in the mirror was still a stranger to Keir. Despite having spent weeks in the body, he had not gotten used to it, or let himself study it beyond the basic plumbing problems. It was a perfectly useful body, at least when it wasn't recovering from getting shot and nearly killed. Many people had similar bodies. Still, it wasn't his. Like ill-fitting armour it chafed and pulled in odd and uncomfortable ways.

This wasn't at all what he'd expected when he'd created the Heart. He'd assumed his people would resurrect him. They would have provided him with a body similar to his old one. One fit for an Emperor.

Sitting in his chair he could couldn't see his entire body. His hips and waist were blocked from view by the arms of the wheelchair. He could still see enough of himself to scowl. After gaining some weight thanks to getting enough supplies to eat three meals a day, he once again looked sickly. Laying in his sickbed had left his cheeks gaunt and his eyes hollow. His hands were practically skeletal, and he could fit a finger between his ribs.

The only part of him that looked healthy was his hair. The tattoo on his head was mostly covered by short, thick blonde hair. It was so short he didn't have to worry about combing it yet, but it would be problem before too long. Rubbing a hand over his bare chin, he wished he could grow a beard.

Forcing himself to his feet, he leaned heavily on the dressing table. His legs shook, but they'd hold him up for a short time.

“I'm not the Emperor anymore, dread or otherwise,” he told the woman in the mirror.

Listening to his voice, it sounded more natural. He hadn't taken the time to notice before, but when he'd first come back his voice had been deeper. He'd unintentionally tried to sound like he had in his old body. The fake deep voice had to have sounded comical. Now, he was speaking naturally, going with what felt comfortable. It was lighter, almost airy, unless he concentrated on making it a little lower and firmer.

“So, who am I?”

His back began to ache around the half healed wound. Gripping the arms of the chair, he eased himself back into it. Wiping sweat from his face, he wondered when he'd be healed enough to actually do something.

Floria came back into the room, holding a bowl of steaming water and a cloth. His bodyguard and, for the time being his maid, placed the bowl on table. “Can you stand, Regua?” she asked, holding her hand out.

“Yes,” he replied. Taking her offered hand, he once more stood up. Forcing his knees to stay firm, he did what he could to help her get the nightgown off.

The reflection in the mirror caught his eye. The small breasts, the painfully thin waist, the hips and butt, they were as far from manly as it was possible to be. He didn't have long to look at himself, before Floria helped ease him onto a stool.

Sitting there, using most of his strength just to sit up straight, his bodyguard dipped the cloth into the water and began gently scrubbing his face. The steaming, rose scented water felt good on his cool skin. Like several other things that had happened recently, Keir finally had the time, and more importantly the motivation, to think as he was washed.

His skin was more sensitive. The rough cloth made him want to shiver with every stroke. As she carefully washed his chest, trying not to pull on the wound too much, he felt his nipples harden. A pleasant jolt ran through his body.

“How do you see me?” he asked, almost without thinking.

“Pardon, Regua?” Floria asked.

“When you look at me, what do you see?”

She didn't answer for a few moments, biting her lip with a faraway look in her eyes. She kept washing him, as she thought, but it wasn't quite as gentle as before.

Finally she answered. “You are the Regua. You've come back from the beyond the gates of death, making you unique and the strongest out of everyone in the world. Yet you're still human, despite your miracles. You can die. You can be injured. You care for those around you. And you have the spirit of a warrior.”

Was that all he was now? A weapon and a figurehead? To his people he'd always been a figurehead, but those close to him saw him as a person. Now... It seemed the only people who thought of him as a person were Von and Sister Kaja.

“Is that all?” he asked.

“You want to know if I see you as a man or a woman?”

He jerked in surprise.

She smiled. “I've heard Mage Von call you Keir. Yet to others you're Keira. And I've watched you closely since coming to your side.”

Snorting, he shook his head. He should have realized, servants and bodyguards usually knew more than they let on, it was stupid of him to think she hadn't noticed his concerns.

“Yes. I finally have time to think about it, and I'm not sure how to think of the issue.”

“I've thought about your situation,” she admitted. “You're the first person in history to go from male to female, not just in thoughts or clothes, but body. I don't know why you were chosen to experience both sides of the coin, but it is one more way that you are special.”

“I could do without that particular honour.”

“Some of my fellow sisters would like to be like you. To go from being women to men.”

He hadn't thought of that. He'd known of a few people who had enjoyed dressing up as the opposite sex in the privacy of their homes. As long as they did their job and kept their activities quiet, he hadn't cared. “And you?”

“I like being a woman in all ways. I don't even lay with my sisters unless it's for a special occasion. There is a power in being able to control men with a glance and a smile. And one day, when we defeat the demons, it will be the task of women to bring life to the next generation of warriors and mothers. It's an honour and task I'll gladly accept.”

“I wish it was that easy for me,” Keir said. “I liked being a man.”

“Respectfully Regua, the gods and death care little for what we like.”

He had to smile at that. Whoever was watching over him certainly didn't care about his opinion or desires. “How do your sisters that want to be men act?”

“They live as best they can, accepting the reality of their sex. Yet they also push the limits between men and women in how they dress, behave and doing what is expected of them.” She dropped the cloth into the bowl. “All done.”

Raising his arms, he let her put a clean nightgown on him. It had been hung near the radiator and was almost too hot. But on his cool, air dried skin, it felt wonderful. Getting to his feet, he shuffled to the bed and sat down. Floria had to help him lift his legs up, and eased him back onto the pillows so he didn't pull on his wound. He felt his breasts shift as he laid down.

Closing his eyes, he listened to her pour the water down the sink in the bathroom, and clean up the room. He should make a ghost to act as a maid, but he needed all his energy to heal faster. He hadn't been able to leave the room yet, and there were so many things to prepare before spring.

Pushing those thoughts away, he thought about what Floria had said. He wasn't a man anymore. He didn't want to be a woman, but he was. Could he accept that?

He didn't disrespect women. Some of his wives had been his best advisors, and a female mage could be just as powerful as a male when it came to magic. So why was he finding it so hard to just admit the obvious?

He realized it was time to make a decision. Wasting more time on his feelings wouldn't help anyone.

“I'm Mage Keira, it's as simple as that,” she told herself.

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

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, and access to two other stories, Isekai Incorporated and Water Nymph, you can support me on my Patreon page.

The Cristal Fleche council chamber was buzzing with activity. The entire city council was in attendance as were most of the more important officials, business leaders, and city reporters. Elder Sister Otillie was sitting in her chair, at her side, and slightly back was the much younger Elder Brother Josef, the second highest Church official in the city. Depending on how things went, they would both need to prepare a message for the faithful and their fellow clergy.

It had been over a month since The Necromancer had arrived at Cristal Fleche, and she hadn't once left her room. The excitement of her arrival had faded quickly, and once more the city was quiet with hunger, cold, and despair. If they didn't have something good come from today, Otillie was all too certain that they'd be dealing with hundreds of suicides by the end of the week. And there would be even more people who simply wouldn't wake up, as yet another hope was snuffed out.

The large doors opened. The soldiers who were acting as guards and doormen jumped back in surprise at what they saw in the hallway. A murmur rose up from the audience who couldn't see what was going on. Otillie refused to lean over for a better look. It would be undignified and as head of the church, it was important to keep up her appearance.

The soldiers quickly regained their composure. The officer announced the guests, “Mage Von and Mage Keira, from the Eldritch Council.”

Two ghostly figures in black armour, carrying old fashioned halberds marched into the council chamber. They looked around the room with featureless faces, making the audience recoil. The Lleial bodyguard followed them, wearing an immaculate uniform marking her as a warrior of the desert nomads. She had a sword and pistol on her belt, which would normally have caused a stir, but this day was hardly normal.

Mage Von came next. He didn't draw much attention having appeared at almost every public meeting since his arrival. The pure black clothing he was wearing however mark him as different from his previous visits. Shadow cloth was known, it was made on other continents, but it was only made in small quantities and was very expensive. The mage's suit would have cost enough to feed a family for a year before the war.

A child giggled, and Mage Keira made her entrance. She was sitting in a wheelchair, being pushed by a translucent mage. A large, bird-like monster with long pale arms, sat on the Necromancer's lap. It watched everything with a large black eyes, and giggled again as people recoiled in horror.

Otillie forced herself to look at the young woman, and realized at once why the Necromancer had decided to use the monster.

She was young, and clearly still weak from getting shot. Compared to most of the city's citizens she was well fed, but her cheeks were hollow and makeup couldn't hide the dark circles around her eyes. The strange tattoos on her hands, neck and chest stood out against her unhealthy pale skin. Her body was mostly hidden under a black dress. It was simple in design, clearly tailored to allow her to slip it on with as little movement and adjusting as possible. Her short blonde hair was covered by a small hat. What hair could be seen was limp and sparse, another sign of her weakness.

Three more armed ghosts flanked the Necromancer, ensuring no one would be able to shoot her in the back again. The doors finally closed, as the group went to the centre of the room.

It wasn't the biggest honour guard the city council had ever seen, but it was definitely the most unique and horrifying. A reporter took a picture of the group, likely using the last working camera in the entire city. The bright flash made the Necromancer jerk in surprise, a second later and she had regained her perfect composure.

The ghostly soldiers and the living bodyguard stepped aside to let the two mages take centre stage. Mage Keira smiled up at the council members, stroking her monster like it was a cat. The creature giggled quietly to itself, making quite a few people look away in disgust.

“Mage Von, Mage Kiera,” Lord Mayor Julius said in greeting. “It's good to formally meet you.”

“Thank you for having us, Lord Mayor. And thank you for the use of your healers, they are some of the best I've ever met. I do apologize for not standing, I don't want to risk tearing my stitches,” Keira said.

The young woman spoke the language of the region well, but the accent and some of the words were archaic, only heard in the most isolated villages, or old poems and plays. It didn't sound quite right. And her voice was airy and light, what Otillie would expect from a young lady talking to friends. Not someone just from a sickbed and facing the most important people for a thousand miles. The question was, was it all just a show of strength, showing everyone that she didn't have a care in the world? Or was she truly that confident in her abilities?

The Lord Mayor allowed himself a small smile. “I'm glad you approve of our healers, they've had plenty of practice. Now we would like to know what you can do to help the city until the Eldritch Council's army arrives.”

“There are several things that I can do, provided I have access to the tools and resources. First, I will need an escort to your cemeteries,” Mage Keira said.

That caused a stir in the crowd. Despite knowing the woman claimed to be the Necromancer, and clearly controlled ghosts and a monster, hearing about the need for dead bodies was a startling prospect.

“It can be arranged. What will that accomplish?”

“With the assistance of several mages, I will be able to create between five-hundred and a thousand undead.”

Someone in the crowd scoffed. “That's barely anything. We lose that many in a day of fighting.”

“Five-hundred to a thousand, a day,” Mage Keira said, emphasizing each word.

The unhappy rumblings stopped. People may have been hoping for an entire army to appear out of nowhere, but having one appear over a period of two or three months, especially in winter, was good enough.

“As I get healthier,” she continued, “I will start raising more, up to five thousand or so. And these won't be simple skeletons, zombies and ghosts. This will include banshees, ghouls, flesh golems, and several more that no one has seen before. Like my strix.”

The monster slid from the mage's lap, spread it's wings and leapt into the air, giggling unpleasantly. People ducked and yelled as it flew over their heads, it's arms hung down, the razor-like talons flexing as if it wanted to rip and tear at the crowd. It landed on a statue, opened it's short, hooked beak and gave a high pitched, childish laugh.

“I'll also require some volunteers.”

“Live volunteers?” Otillie asked, not sure how she felt about that idea.

“Yes. I'd prefer people who are close to death or want to die. I have a special project that will create intelligent undead, who should be able to slaughter demons by the dozens.”

“You have these new dead creatures, why didn't you use them while you were alive?”

Mage Keira smiled very coldly. “Because there are some weapons that should not be used against humans. Against the demons however, I have no reservations about unleashing monsters.”

“And what will you do with these dead soldiers, girl?” Louis Bardot, spokesman of the Engineers Union, asked.

Mage Keira didn't react to the slight, in fact her smile grew a little. “At first they'll take over working in the mine. They can work without rest or worry of injuries. I believe that will help ease some of the shortages plaguing the city. After that is taken care of, it depends on what the army decides. I've written a plan on how to use them most effectively and sent it to the proper people. The simple version is this. I will raise as many as I can before spring comes. They will be kept a secret until we are attacked by a demon army. We'll use them to stop the attack, then counter-attack, taking a mile or two of territory. The basic undead will build fortifications for the soldiers on the newly conquered land. I'll raise more undead, and when we have sufficient numbers, or the demons attack again, we'll take another one or two miles.”

“We've tried that before, it didn't work. The demons will just summon more of their kind and overwhelm us,” Louis said.

“I hope they do. If they're focused on us, it means there will be less demons attacking the relief forces.”

“You really think that we'll be relieved? You may have cleared out your little area, but it was just before winter. And you held a single small outpost. The demons likely didn't put any real effort into the fight.”

“I know for a fact that we will see help arrive,” Mage Keira said with the same kind of certainty as someone saying the sun would rise at dawn. “The Eldritch Council went through a lot of trouble resurrecting me, they won't want to let their investment go to waste. I am also expecting other reinforcements that should prove useful.”

There was complete silence in the council room. No one, not even Otillie knew what the young woman was talking about. What reinforcements could they expect? There was only the Eldritch Council and scattered bands of refugees at this point.

“When the Lleial fled their homeland, many of them headed for my tomb, moving in small groups. While several thousand reached Kodor, most were cut off and fled into the woods and mountains. I sent out ghosts at the start of winter to find them and let them know I have returned. When I decided to come here, I sent more ghosts telling them of my plans. I'm not sure how many have heard, but I do know that every group of Lleial in this part of the continent will be coming here to serve me.

“So, I plan on making sure that all eyes are on us, so they and the Eldritch Council can take the demons in the rear. We're going to the be the anvil, all we need to do is survive until the hammer comes down,” the Necromancer said with a smile.
___

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

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, and access to two other stories, Isekai Incorporated and Water Nymph, you can support me on my Patreon page.

The city street was covered in filthy, black snow. In normal times they would have been shovelled clean. Now, no one had the energy for it. Narrow paths of packed snow led from doorways to a main path. A painfully thin body lay barely visible under the snow. The person was face down, an arm stretched out, like they were crawling for safety.

From the palace that held the city government it was possible to see blue sky near the horizon. But overhead was a haze of black, sooty smoke that burned the throat and made eyes water. Brown coal kept the citizens warm, barely. The cheap fuel burned poorly, and polluted the air, still it was better than nothing.

Buildings loomed over the streets. They were dark, the windows covered with rags trying to keep the heat in. Any colour the walls might have had was covered by the same soot that filled the air. There was no visible metal on them, even the door knockers had vanished. Undoubtedly they had been taken and turned into weapons or bullets. In several places there were holes, where wood had been ripped away. Mud and snow filled in the holes.

There was almost no sound. The factories and mine that kept the city alive were far from this forsaken neighbourhood. The cries of starving children and grieving parents could be heard from some of the houses. But most were silent, conserving their strength, huddled around coal fires with a few mouthfuls of food, trying to survive one more day.

A few pale and thin faces peered out onto the street. Either out of boredom or in hopes of seeing something they could eat or use. The exhausted, starving eyes widened at the sight they saw, as prayers and gestures to the Father and the Mother were made.

Mage Keira sat in a pitch black sled, pulled by two skeletal horses. She was barely visible under several blankets and a fur hat. Dead cavalry rode ahead of her, their empty eyes scanning the streets and buildings for threats, while skeletal hands gripped their rifles. Overhead flew black birds and banshees, ignoring the bitter winds and filthy smog.

Behind her came more sleds, with mages and city officials. While their sleds were old converted carriages, they to were pulled by dead horses. The few surviving horses were jealously guarded by the military, being used as messengers and crowd control. The rest had died of starvation or been slaughtered for food a year before. More dead cavalry took up the rear.

The sleds came to an old cemetery, it was one of the smaller resting places in the city and a poor one. Tombstones, worn from time and the elements peeked forlornly out of the snow. Keira's sled stopped at the entrance, with the others further back. At one time there had been an iron gate, it had been recycled early in the siege. Now only a low stone wall protected the dead.

The other mages got out of the sleds and awkwardly made their way to the Necromancer, stumbling and sinking in the knee high snow. The people in the surrounding buildings watched with interest from the safety of their homes. They'd been told earlier that week that the dead were going to be raised, most hadn't believed it. They'd been told many things in the past, only to have their hopes dashed.

Looking down at the young woman, who barely stirred from her nest, they scoffed at the thought that she could help them. She seemed to be asleep, and the mages just stood in the snow, doing nothing.

And then the snow covering the cemetery melted away.

It happened so quickly, it didn't seem real. The muddy ground quickly frosted over, but there were puddles on the bare ground.

And then the ground shifted. Gravestones tilted and fell over, as bodies climbed out of their graves. Two, three, sometimes as many as six undead came from each spot. The people in the neighbourhood had packed as many as they could into the ground, so they'd be close to home.

Men, women, children, even babies, formed up in rows, covering the graveyard. They ranged from mouldering skeletons to barely rotten corpses, some of whom showed signs of butchering.

Keira looked over the undead, studying the magic that gave them life. Despite the freezing cold her face was damp with sweat, reminding her how poorly she was still doing. Before getting shot, this would have been child's play. 

A figure bundled up in old furs came to her side.

“Where do these ones go, Durand?” Keira asked the government aide, who'd been given the job of keeping track of things.

Pointedly ignoring the silent corpses waiting for instructions, Hugo Durand said, “The, uh, smaller ones are needed in the mines. The larger ones are to go to the 3rd pump factory.”

Silently issuing commands, the undead broke up into two groups. Among the group heading for the mines, small undead babies and toddlers were picked up by their larger peers. Sleds went to the head of each group, waved a black flag to get their attention and led them away.

Keira motioned for the aide to get onto the small sled. The man had insisted on riding in one of the larger sleds on the way to the cemetery. But now the mages had other tasks to perform, and Keira didn't need an entourage. “Now that that job is done, where to next?”

Frowning the aide climbed aboard and sat as far from Keira as possible. “The smelters are having a problem with the undead workers. They keep catching fire.”

“Very well, that should be easy to fix.” More commands were given without saying a word. The dead guards and the sled headed towards the mine, while the rest of the living mages and their escorts headed back to their regular positions.

Seeing the empty streets, she wished her bodyguard was with her. Unfortunately Floria had come down with a bad cold, so Keira had ordered her to bed. The city offered their own guards, but she preferred to trust her dead.

Wanting to fill in the silence, she asked, “Durand, how are people taking the undead?”

“I can't really say, Mage Keira.”

“Why not?”

“The cold snap has most people staying inside, except to get food and coal. They're too cold and hungry to say much, if it doesn't fill their bellies.”

“What about your fellow workers? What do they think?”

“They're more concerned with their work. Keeping the city alive in these dire times takes most of their energy and time.”

Sighing, Keira wished she had been assigned someone else. The non-answers were far too common from the official. Requests for someone else to assist her, had fallen on deaf ears. Hugo Durand was considered a highly efficient administrator and aide, and he was, up to a point. But getting him to talk about anything that wasn't related to his assigned job was almost impossible.

Riding in silence along the deserted streets, Keira was not surprised to see a man lying on his back by the entrance of a building. Such sights were all too common in the city. The person was moving his hand slightly, so she knew he was alive. Ordering the horses to stop, she had one of her undead guards go help the man to his feet.

“Leave me alone,” he said, feebly waving away the guard. His voice was hoarse and weak. “Just let me die.”

“Mage Keira, we need to get to the smelters soon,” Durand said.

“They can wait a few minutes longer,” she replied.

Slowly and painfully, Keira pushed the blankets off. Two of her undead, helped lift her out of the sled, while Durand protested about the waste of time. Leaning heavily on the pair of undead, she shuffled along the slippery trail to the man.

“What happened?” she asked.

He turned his head slightly, milky white eyes squinted at her. His hollow cheeks and sickly pale skin made it hard to tell how old he was. Starvation had wasted him away to almost nothing. “You a spirit sent by the Mother?” he asked, his voice faint.

“No. I'm Mage Keira.”

The man sighed, not unhappily, just resigned. Closing his eyes, he settled back into the snow. “Wait a little. I'll be dead for you soon enough.”

“You want to die?” she asked.

“Not much choice. Can't even stand up.”

“I need volunteers for a special project. You'll die, but you will keep your mind. You'll be strong, heal from almost any wound, and you'll have one job, to kill as many demons as you can. Are you interested?”

“Not asking for much, are ya.”

“You're going to die anyways. You can die here in a snowdrift and I'll use your body as mindless labour. Or I can prepare you to become a thing of nightmares. Killing demons and enjoying it, while remembering who and what you are. Your choice.”

The man laid in the snow eyes closed, breathing so shallowly that for a moment Keira was almost certain he had fallen unconscious.

“I don't care anymore,” he finally wheezed. “Do what you want with me.”

Calling over two more undead, Keira had them take the man to the sled. The warm blankets would help keep him alive until she could get him to a healer. He'd just need to survive a few days, that would be enough time to turn him into a vampire.

As the sled moved along the city street once more, she kept an eye out for other dying and hopeless people. The city was full of them, she just needed to find them before they were too far gone.

___

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

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, and access to two other stories, Isekai Incorporated and Water Nymph, you can support me on my Patreon page.

There were twenty beds in the large banquet hall. Painfully thin and sickly men and women filled the beds. Most were asleep. Even with the food and healing they'd been given, they were so close to death there was no energy for their body to spare for anything that didn't keep them breathing for a little while longer. The few who were awake lay still lost in their thoughts. Some sobbed thinking of what they'd lost and what was coming. Two or three watched the working of the mages, curious or fearful, wondering what it would do to them. A man smiled, his eyes filled only with rage.

Cast iron heaters lined the walls, dirty flickering flames shone out from the grates, providing heat against the bitter cold air. Most of the smoke went through the flues outside, a basic magical spell dealt with the rest, ensuring the room would stay clean. Every few hours an undead servant would enter adding more coal to the fires. No living servants wanted to go near the room. They knew what was going to happen, and while they didn't object, they had no desire to see it.

A priest and priestess of the Mother and the Father sat praying at a table. The tools of their trade at their side, along with clean clothes, warm water, scraps of bread, and a bit of alcohol to ease the pain. They didn't know if what was going on was proper. But it had been accepted as a necessity by the city clergy. The pair had volunteered to support the dying as best they could. Yet they never looked at The Necromancer or her assistant.

One of the dying coughed, blood spattering his lips. Pouring a bit of water into a bowl, and some more into a glass of alcohol, the priest went to his side. Whispering a prayer of comfort, he washed the blood from the woman's face. Then he put the cup of watered down alcohol against her lips and had her sip it down. Holding her hand until she went back to sleep, he walked silently back to his seat and resumed his prayers.

“I wish they'd stop acting like this was something horrible,” Keira said to Von. “They volunteered for this, and it's not like they'd have survived the day if I hadn't picked them up.”

“We're not quite as used to the undead as you are,” Von replied, not looking up from his work.

“This city is a walking corpse already. All I'm doing is making sure it's an effective one.”

“Give them a chance to see the dead in action and they'll change their minds. And at least they're not stopping you from doing everything you want.”

She snorted. “They're having me do what they want, and letting me work on my 'pet projects' as long as I shut up and stay out of the way.”

The mage looked up from his bowls of ink. “They did give you a mansion to work from, and a team of workers.”

“Most of whom are too scared to even look at me.” She didn't add that some of the servants who did look at her, didn't hide their... appreciation of her figure. They were polite enough that she didn't have a reason to fire them, but she still wasn't used to how they stared when they thought she wasn't looking.

“That will change with time. The ink is ready to go.”

“So this is what you used on me,” she said, touching the tattoo on the back of her hand.

“Mostly. This is less complicated than yours.”

“And you're still not going to tell me how it's made?”

Smiling he said, “No.”

Sighing, she sat back while he got the pneumatic tattoo gun ready. While engineering had never been Keira's area of interest, she had always enjoyed watching it. The three hundred years of progress after her first death had created many interesting things, the use of pneumatics was one of them. Back in her time compressing air had been an interesting trick for studying gases and liquids, but practical uses had been lacking. Now, pneumatic powered pumps, were used as weapons, ran machinery, and could apparently tattoo people.

Von rolled a canister of compressed air from the corner of the room. He attached a thin hose with a gauge to it, then screwed the hose into a large pen like device. Turning the handle there was a faint hiss of air and after looking at the gauge, he turned the handle back a little until he was satisfied. Pressing the trigger on the pen there was another hiss and a faint clicking as two needles poked in and out from the narrow end. Nodding in satisfaction, Von attached a small bottle of ink onto the pen.

“Who do you want to do first?” he asked.

“Her,” Keira pointed at a tiny woman near the far end of beds. “She's the closest to death, and I don't think she's going to wake up.

“All right, This is going to take at least eight hours, do you really want to watch me do the entire thing?”

Getting up from her padded chair, Keira made a ghost carry it to the bed. “I wouldn't miss it for the world. And I need to make sure she doesn't die while you prepare the tattoos.”

Going to the volunteer, Keira sat off to the side making sure Von had plenty of space. The priest and priestess seeing that they were ready, came over as well. While the mage brought the machine over and cleaned off the woman's hand for the first tattoo, the pair began praying over the soon to be corpse.

Switching to her magic sight, Keira watched Von pour his magic into the tattoo gun. Usually this wouldn't do much, but whatever preparations the mage had done had drastically altered the ink. It absorbed the magic like a sponge, becoming a rainbow of colours that dazzled the eye.

Pressing the gun against the woman's skin, it began clicking. The rainbow ink poured into the flesh, binding with the skin, sending tendrils into her soul. Keira's eyes widened at the sight. This had been deemed impossible when she had been alive. A skilled mage could only tear out or destroy the soul while the person was alive. Altering it had largely been a dream of the mad and foolish. Keira had done experiments with it, and had created some interesting theories. However until she saw her own tattoos she'd largely done it out of curiosity without thinking it would be practical.

She's still be surprised when Von had told her this was the simplest of the various spells placed on her.

One problem she'd faced with vampires was how they were uncontrollably violent. There had been no way to control them except by locking them up, and that made them useless. Even dropping them near an army of enemies was not very effective. If they survived, they'd be a scourge attacking anyone they saw including Keira's people. Against a human opponent that was not cost effective.

However the tattoos that kept Keira from raising her hand against a human could be used to bind the vampires. With them unable to kill or injure people, they'd quickly go for other prey. Since demons covered most of the continent, the vampires would have ample food. A few dozen vampires released by the airship well away from the city, should prove an interesting problem for the monsters.

Once they knew vampires could be somewhat controlled, it would be easy enough to expand their operations. Von was willing to teach others how to make the ink, so long as she remained in the dark. Then they would find artists to make the tattoos while a mage provided the magic. Only her own role couldn't be filled easily. She'd need to get more students, preferably with steady hands and an eye for detail.

Smiling, Keira thought about the phrase mass production. She'd learned it while studying one of the factories and loved it. If they'd had the factory system when she had been emperor, she could have drowned her enemies not only in the dead but the living as well.

As long as the prototype worked, they would quickly begin mass producing the undead monsters. Prototype was another interesting word that had seldom been used three centuries ago, except by a few scholarly inventors. Now it was used by all the engineers she'd met,

While Von worked his magic, Keira considered what other prototype monsters she could create.

Von set the tattoo gun down and leaned against bed, he looked exhausted. Sweat dripped from his face, and he'd removed his shirt hours ago. A ghost came up, holding a tray with a glass of water and a plate of bread and rat meat. When food had grown scarce, the city council had begun farming rats. They were the only animals left in the city other than the few army horses and fish from the river.

“It's done?” Keira asked.

Draining the glass of water, Von nodded. “It's done. She can't hurt anyone.”

“Very well, it's time to turn her into a weapon.” She commanded her ghosts to wheel the bed to a nearby room that had once been a study. She followed more slowly. Her body was healing, but after so many weeks in bed with poor food, she was only now starting to regain her strength.

She nodded to the new pair of priests who had replaced the other two hours ago. They actually smiled at her in return. Von stay behind for a moment, finishing his meagre meal.

Entering her workroom, the woman was being strapped to a table with thick ropes. Keira would have preferred leather straps, or better yet iron manacles, but those were in short supply. Anything that could be used to make weapons had been taken long ago.

Sitting down in a tall chair that let her work comfortably on the tattooed woman, Keira silently ordered the ghosts to strip the subject.

The woman had likely been pretty once. She looked to be in her thirties. Starvation and cold had sapped the strength and flesh from her, leaving a skeletal figure. Fingers and toes, blackened by frostbite would have had to be amputated if they were planning on saving her life. The tip of her nose and ears had already been frozen and amputated or fallen off, leaving open sores.

Von came into the room collapsing onto a chair. He had insisted he had to be there to watch what she was doing. From the look he gave the naked woman, it seemed he was regretting the decision. Still he didn't leave or comment on it.

“Let's begin,” she said.

Turning her sight to magic, she wasn't blinded by the tattoos anymore. They were bright, but they were a pleasant white, that didn't hurt the eyes. They would be a problem. Instead of simply taking the soul out and replacing it with magic, she'd need to cut around the soul, leaving portions of it, so that the geas would stay in place.

But first, the woman needed to die.

She wove a net of death magic on top of the woman, twisting it to encircle her body, splitting to fit over the arms and legs, tying it together as the ends met. Working slowly and carefully, she trapped the soul inside the flesh.

Delicately and with great patience, she began snipping the soul away from the body. The woman gasped and spasmed against the ropes. When she died seconds later, the soul remained in place.

Like a master carver, Keira began cutting away at the soul.

Hours later Keira looked down at her work. The soul was almost completely gone. Only patches on the hands, head, heart, pelvis and feet remained, connected by hair thin lines. If people could see it, they would be horrified at the sight. The soul was supposed to be sacrosanct. It was one reason people feared necromancy. To Keira, it was a sign of her skill.

“Give me the rats,” she said.

Von who had been resting in his chair, did as she asked. Placing a cage with several rats in it on the table beside her.

Using magic to bind the rats so they wouldn't fight her, she reached in and took the healthiest one. Placing it in the mouth of the dead woman, she began weaving her magic.

It was a complicated spell. Strands of necromantic energy filled the nearly empty body. She was creating a mockery of life. It would heal quickly when fed, be capable of thinking, hunger, and have strength far beyond a living human. The drawbacks were numerous. It would need souls to survive. Nothing else would provide it the magic it needed, something it would instinctively realize. And as Keira had found out, eating souls would drive it into a frenzy, needing more to satisfy it.

If it found an army of demons it would keep fighting and eating until destroyed. But against smaller groups, it had a chance of surviving. As long as it ate a soul every few days it would be able to keep hunting. That was why they would release them well behind the demons lines. Putting them on a proper battlefield would see them die too soon to be useful.

When the magic weave was completed, Keira leaned back and caught her breath. The work had taken a while, making her wish she had properly trained assistants. If this worked, she'd been promised the pick of newly trained mages, but she could have used them now.

Pushing that desire aside for the moment, she leaned over the corpse. It was now time for the final step.   It was easy compared to what she had just done. She pushed her magic straight into the body, powering the magical weave.

The corpse arched it's back, straining against the binding. It's eyes opened, revealing blood red irises. It's mouth closed around the rat, killing it instantly. The rat's soul was absorbed by the newly born vampire, filling it with even more energy.

The soul wasn't enough for the vampire, it slurped up the blood, filling it's belly. Then it spit the rat out, howling and snapping at Keira. It drove it's fingers into the table, leaving deep gouges in the wood.

Reaching out, Keira touched one of the monster's razor sharp fingernails. The tip dug into her skin for a split second then stopped. Every other finger kept scrapping against the table, but that one finger wouldn't do more then slightly dent her skin.

Feeling a little more confident, Keira grabbed the vampire's hand in hers. Muscles tensed, the fingers curled around her hand, the nails started to dig into her flesh, and then once again they stopped.

The vampire howled in outrage.

Dropping it's hand, Keira turned to Von, grinning with delight. “We have a weapon,” she said.

___

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

If you would like to support my work, get a sneak peek at future chapters for all of these stories, and access to two other stories, Isekai Incorporated and Water Nymph, you can support me on my Patreon page.