Chương 16

Aemalia waited. She had sent her maids away. Three of them had stayed anyway. And seventeen knights. She was dressed for the battlefield, wearing not armor but a practical dress that would allow her to mount her horse and run with ease, if need be. The army was gone, the fields torn up where by thousands of feet and hooves. Some of the tents remained, abandoned. And then the corpses stood out in the open, exposed to the sun. The birds were out. Dozens of ravens, pecking.

She was reminded of scarecrows, but weren't they supposed to keep the birds away, not attract them? She swallowed. These had been people, she reminded herself. They had been people.

"They come," one of her knights said, pointing to the distance. A dozen of them crested the hill at once. A simple dozen. They were all on foot, but moving faster than horses. Then another dozen crested the hill. And another. But no army. Had she erred in dispersing her army? Could she perhaps command the corpses to— A searing pain in her head, and suddenly the crown was white hot against her skin. She pulled it off, throwing it to the ground and stepping away.

She felt her forehead, expecting to find scorched flesh, but it had been pain only, not actual heat. A moment later, the corpse army turned and began marching west.

"Just like that," she whispered.

"He snatched control of them away from me just like that." The knights swallowed.

"If that's the case, then we cannot field undead troops of our own any further. We must get word out. If any of the other nations attempt to field mixed units, then Tal will rip them apart by claiming control over our own forces."

"And at least one of you must survive to pass on all of the intelligence that we gain from this parlay," she reminded them.

"I am not important. Do not worry about my dignity, or my life." The knights looked grim, but did not argue with her. They had had this argument already. After making sure there were no birds about. She saw him, finally. He ran on foot, faster than the others, covering the distance at double the speed of a galloping horse. His eyes glowed violet, as did the rune on his forehead that marked his identity. He approached.

"You have kept the bargain," he said.

"That simplifies things."

"If we hadn't dispersed? If we had attempted an ambush instead, what would you have done?" If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it. He raised his hand, and the field was struck by lightning.

"A lot of that," he said dismissively.

"Lightning is drawn to armor, did you know that? I had to aim it all the way over there to keep it from harming your knights." She swallowed.

"How powerful are you, Tal?"

"I do not know, I have not tested my limits," he admitted.

"But Vorulsht says I am eight or nine times more powerful than the one responsible for making me."

"The priests of Zozheim?" she asked.

"The Prophet who taught them the ritual," he corrected her.

"He was himself a powerful lich. I destroyed him. Walk with me, Duchess."

"Please tell me. My people. Is it true that you have not converted Pash-keni and Pash-orto?"

"I have taken far less than the tithe we have agreed on," Tal answered.

"I will claim those who die naturally, and for my other needs I will take either volunteers or choose by lottery. As promised, I will not select from children."

"You were trained by Rials the butcher," she said.

"How can I trust you?"

"My prince was…he believed that hubris would be the downfall of mankind, Duchess. I wonder if he was not right, for it was his downfall. Will it be mine? I wonder." They crossed the fields to where the lines of young men and women waited for them. If Aemalia had not just seen them running far too fast, she might have thought they were new recruits. She looked at them, and her blood ran cold.

"Inalten. You have recreated the ritual?"

"I have perfected it," he corrected.

"In time, these children will rebel against me. In little ways at first. They will question my orders, they will hesitate, they will doubt. And, most likely, they will obey anyway. That is what made me perfect. I obeyed, until I had nobody to obey." Aemalia felt sick. Inalten, if they were trained to heal themselves when injured, were a force to be reckoned with when there was one or two of them.

"How many Inalten have you made?"

"One hundred and thirteen," he answered.

"But I can make another batch whenever I wish. I have simply to acquire the bodies." She closed her eyes. Things were more dire than she had realized. An army not of lesser undead, but the elite shock troops that the empire had fielded to such effect in the previous conflict? And a sorcerer of peerless strength? She had been correct to surrender.

"What is to be my fate?" she asked, refusing to let her voice quaver as she held her chin up in defiance.

"You shall become my adviser," he answered simply.

"My prince taught me what he knew of conquering. I can improve upon his methods, but I know the basics and can figure out the rest from there. But what comes after? I do not know how to rule. That is where you shall come in." Duchess Aemalia du Pashenas blinked in surprise.

"Then, you shall allow me to live?"

"I need advisers, Duchess. I have gaps in my knowledge that can only be filled by the living. So yes, you shall live for now. For as long as I have use of you, you shall live. You shall die if there is a purpose to your death, of course. But if you serve and serve well, then it will not be my hand that causes your death." Aemalia's mind reeled with the possibilities of this pronouncement.

Not only was her life to be spared, but he was placing her in a position where she might be able to save thousands—millions—of her countrymen. Tears welled up in her eyes. She knelt. She knew she was defeated, but more importantly she knew this was the only course of action left.

"What title do you take for yourself, Tal?" she asked gently.

"I am Tal, the Risen."

"Tal, the Risen. I pledge myself to your service. Mind, body, and soul, I shall serve you faithfully until the day I die."

"Perhaps," he said in the same flat affect that he said everything else.

"And you shall serve after your death as well." They arrived at the horses, and he stopped to rub the forehead of her mare. To her surprise the horse nuzzled him, sniffed him, and did not shy away.

"We return to Pash-orto. From there, I shall establish the new nation which I am to build by the will of Vorulsht. The Duchy of Pasheni is dead, and the Tal-sha-shenk will rise from its corpse. We will talk along the way of the laws and customs of the old world, and I shall decide which of them to keep, which of them to change, and which of them to abolish." She mounted her horse, and allowed him to hold her reins as they moved at a walk.

"Very well," she said.

"To begin with, what do you know about taxes?"