Feane was up and walking within 20 minutes, though she still limped slightly.

“Hey, that is a good trick.” She said to Reshid, “Very nice. Normally it would take days, maybe weeks, even with good food.”

People. She meant good, tasty people. Reshid grimaced. Wary of the wight, who was no longer safely pinned to the ground, Rory backed away and stood a half-step behind Hasan for protection. That was probably the smart thing to do—Reshid could almost forget that she was supposed to be some superior kind of ghoul. She seemed kind of underwhelming, all things considered.

Hasan was still watching her as if he expected an attack at any second.

“Go and deliver your message, wight.”

“Yes, yes, okay. You should probably run away, though. You are speaking with a mouthful of fangs, but you have no claws.“ With that very odd metaphor, she limped off down the road. Her meaning was clear enough, Reshid supposed.

Hasan signaled to a few other revenants to make sure that she didn’t circle back and went to talk to one of his lieutenants who had been standing to the side, waiting for him to acknowledge her.

Sighing, Reshid turned to Rory, who was busily repacking his bag. The man rose, bag in hand, and gestured to him as he started back toward the other medics.

“Come on. We should get further back before they get here. I don’t know how this will go, but if we can avoid it, I’d prefer not to be standing right in the middle of the road when the lich gets here.”

Reshid decided that he liked Rory. The man didn’t seem to care if his patient was an undead monstrosity, but he also wasn’t so trusting or overconfident that he’d put himself in danger. It was a sensible, no-nonsense type of approach that made him easy to work with. He also clearly trusted Hasan more than he did Geoffrey. That wasn’t so remarkable in itself, of course, but the fact that he wasn’t hiding it was.

Given what Reshid had heard, Geoffrey’s cult was more than just a rabble of crazy people—it was a type of political movement, and not the type that casually tolerated its detractors. Rory’s attitude might well draw Geoffrey’s attention, or even that of his presumed superiors among the priesthood.

When they reached the others, they found Geoffrey loudly sharing his views about Duskhaven’s government and its revenant-friendly Deep Paths policy. Most of the others did their best to avert their eyes and tried to appear busy however they could in hopes that they wouldn’t be singled out as a willing audience. That isn’t to say there was no audience at all—a few were listening, and one was even asking questions.

Reshid’s heart sank. Maybe staying up front wouldn’t be so bad? No way was he staying this close to that guy.

Fortunately, Rory had the same idea.

“Hey Viktor,” he called to their former patient, “why don’t we take a look at your ribs while we wait. The march might have aggravated something and who knows what kind of infections you could get after Reshid here stuck his unwashed fingers into your insides.”

The man looked up from where he was busily sharpening a knife on a rock and patted at his ribs, confused. “Uh… feels fine to me, sir. I mean, it was magic, right?”

Reshid took over. “Yes, but it’s better safe than sorry, don’t you think?” He glanced meaningfully toward Geoffrey. “Let’s find someplace a bit quieter.”

Viktor hesitated. Then stood up, more slowly than was probably necessary.

“Right. Now that you mention it, it still feels a little sore when I touch it.”

–------

Em could tell immediately when the news reached the camp. There was a shout, and the camp erupted like a kicked anthill. Just a few minutes later, order began to emerge from the chaos. Most of the creatures formed up into loose ranks. At their head stood several smaller figures alongside the massive were-creature that they had noticed earlier. The lich would be with them, probably, but none of them stood out at a distance. That would be for Hasan to sort out, regardless. They had a job to do.

As the column began to march down the road toward Hasan’s little army, Em surveyed the camp. There were more of them left than she expected, about half their total number. They had expected Hasan’s larger force to draw more of them away.

She glanced over at Lieutenant Meuren. The woman had a pocket watch out, counting out the time. What if the Lich suspected something? Should she say something? What were you supposed to do when things didn’t go according to plan? Em had never been in a battle before, and she suddenly wondered what she was even doing here. Sure, she had learned to fight for her own survival after descending into this underworld, but she didn’t know anything about battles or armies. Why had she even agreed to come?

They waited in tense silence, Charlie fidgeting with his weapon as he stared toward the camp with a determined expression.

The soldiers all around didn’t seem scared, just grim and professional. They were checking their rifles and carefully spreading out along the forest’s edge. She saw light glint off of metal perhaps a hundred paces down the line, as someone moved between two bushes. She hoped they wouldn’t be discovered too soon.

Minutes passed and nothing happened. How much longer could it take? Maybe they weren’t talking to Hasan at all. Were they circling around to ambush them instead?

She flinched when a hand landed on her arm. Charlie looked at her with a concerned expression.

“Easy, stay calm.” he said, as if he were talking to a spooked horse. Did she look that scared? “Just think about what’s in front of you. Just focus on what you have to do, and trust everyone else to do theirs. Stick with me when we go in. It’s easy to get distracted in a fight, and those things will be trying to kill us, so just focus on not losing me. I’ll get us through to the cages.”

Em took a deep, shuddering breath and nodded.

Seconds later, Lieutenant Meuren raised her rifle. She took a moment to aim and fired. The crack of her shot echoed off the cavern walls, shockingly loud. A disturbing-looking were-creature with the lower body of a snake and the head of a bear jerked, but didn’t fall. It roared in pain. More shots followed, and Em felt someone pulling on her arm. She looked up.

“Come on!” Charlie was tugging at her. She rose and started running mechanically, following him into the fight.

–---------

Most of the lich’s wights, vampires and were-creatures stopped a safe distance from Hasan’s larger force, but the lead contingent walked right up to Hasan. Reshid had assumed that someone with a title like Antonius the Eternal would look suitably pretentious. Maybe he would fly, a skeleton wearing a fancy robe, carried on eddies of his own eldritch power.

From his vantage, peering out between the ranks of Hasan’s revenants, he could see he was wrong. The only thing that marked him was the way that his guards arrayed themselves around him, cringing away whenever he looked around. He walked on his own two feet and looked like any other trogg—maybe a bit thinner and taller than normal, but nothing out of the ordinary, really. Apart from a massive and disturbing insect-like were-creature, the guards were vampires that looked mostly human. Reshid recognized the one that had attacked the village standing in the back of the group.

“You are a fool to come here.” The lich’s words carried easily to everyone present. “But no matter. Your essence will strengthen my army.”

Hasan’s reply was difficult to make out because he was facing away, but he didn’t sound very concerned. Reshid was inclined to agree. If the Lich meant to attack, he wouldn’t be talking to them.

Reshid knew what Hasan was telling the creature. He would demand Lonnie’s release and the head of the vampire that had attacked them. At the same time, he would bring up the incursions that the humans had been making into the Deep Paths as of late, and offer their support against Duskhaven to make them answer for their blatant aggression.

Since the humans spent the attack hiding behind the palisade, the vampire wouldn’t know of Hasan’s alliance with them.

It was a carefully prepared speech, trying to position the revenants as potential allies, but also avoiding the appearance as a ploy by bluntly demanding significant concessions in exchange.

The lich laughed. “You want me to kill one of my best vampires because he inconvenienced you, and what? Gave one of your revenants a headache? You’re not in a position to make such demands. Join us in the attack, and you can have him back. It’s a large city, and a few hundred extra hands might go a long way. If you want to kill Errol over here, you can try to take him on yourself in a fair duel to salve your pride, though I wouldn’t recommend it.”

Hasan frowned in feigned indignance.

The vampire, Errol, took an eager step forward, but the lich held up a hand. “AFTER the attack. We have more impor—”

The distant crack of gunfire interrupted the lich, followed by more shots and distant shouting.

“The humans!” Hasan shouted. “They’re attacking. We need to move!”

The lich cocked his head. Reshid could sense the tension in the air and almost feel the creature thinking. This was it.

If the lich decided that the timing was too suspicious, he would attack. If he did, though, he wouldn’t be able to return to the camp right away to repel the humans’ assault.

He didn’t know how many were attacking, or if they had brought Guardians, who could easily destroy most undead creatures and even inconvenience a lich.

“We can circle around and cut off their retreat.” Hasan suggested. “I have nearly two hundred revenants here. I’m sure we can catch anyone who tries to run.”

The lich looked at him intently, then nodded sharply.

“Very well.” He gestured with his hand and faint violet light gleamed around Hasan as he was lifted into the air. The stone elementalist strained against the ethereal bonds, but couldn’t move even slightly. “...but don’t even think about betraying me. It would be a… shame… to destroy such a fine army of minions.”

Hasan fell, landing on his feet with a loud thump. He staggered for a second as the lich turned and walked away.

“Of course not.” He choked at the sorcerer’s back. A moment later, he turned to the other revenants. “Form a cordon around the camp. I want eyes all around and eight squads on duty to intercept runners!”

Reshid breathed a sigh of relief. The plan was actually somehow working. Hasan had seemed confident, but presuming to know how the lich would respond to their offer was always going to be a huge gamble. Once the prisoners were freed, they would scatter into the forest. Hasan’s cordon would “fail”, and they would give chase, wasting hours and then days to round up humans playing hide-and-seek in the woods. By the time they were finished, Duskhaven’s Guardians would be emerging from the stairs.

Hasan kept giving orders, naming squad leaders and assigning them to specific roles. Then, Reshid noticed someone moving to his right.

Geoffrey was pushing through the crowd, wearing a thunderous expression.

“I knew it!” He shouted. “Here is the proof, spewed from the putrid lips of demons!” He tore at his neck, and raised a hand into the air, holding his seven-pointed star high like a talisman. The expression on the man’s face was hard, his eyes a little too wide and shining from within.

“Vaclar, hear me! Your servant calls for judgment!”

The words seemed to cut through the noise all around them, echoing in his ears. In that moment, Reshid realized with a horrible sinking feeling in his stomach, that he had allowed himself to underestimate this man. This man was mad, certainly, but he should have considered that he might also have the very real backing of the priesthood—and their gods.

Golden light erupted from Geoffrey’s fist, brightening impossibly to burning incandescence until Reshid saw only white. Aching eyes closed, he threw his hands up in front of his face. "Then the ground was wrenched out from underneath him. For a horrible second Reshid felt weightless, suspended in the air—then he struck the ground hard.