“Clear as crystal, man.”
I had another idea, something that would show anyone who met Cranton how dedicated he was to my cause.
“One last thing,” I said. “Hold out your hand again.”
“Another coin trick?”
“This one… is gonna hurt. But it’s necessary.”
“Uh, all right.” He held out his hand nervously.
I took it and swiftly pulled him into an arm lock, wrapping his forearm up in the crook of my elbow and effectively preventing him from moving.
“Hey, hey, what’s all this about?” he complained.
With his forearm and hand immobilized, I was free to do a little… artwork.
“Just relax,” I said. “It’s like a tattoo… but without the ink. Just a little something to permanently remind you of who and what you are now.”
I used Grave Oath to start carving a design into his forearm. I didn’t cut deep, only enough so that it would leave a scar. Cranton screamed and writhed and struggled as I cut, but he was far too weak to escape from my arm lock.
After a minute, I was done, and I released him.
“Ow, fuck, ow,” he whimpered, gripping his bleeding forearm. “Did you give me some new ability?”
“Not exactly. “ I tossed him a rag. “Wipe the blood off and see.”
With trembling hands, he cleaned the blood off and saw that I had carved a grinning skull—my sigil—into his arm.
His expression of pain turned into a smile. “That’s. . . that’s rather awesome, actually.”
“And with that,” I said solemnly, “I officially ordain you as Priest of the Temple of Necrosis.”
My new status as a god felt a lot more official now. I had my first cairn, and now, my first priest. The vision I’d experienced of a vast army, stretching from horizon to horizon, and hundreds of thousands, even millions of followers, was one step closer to becoming reality.
First, though, I had other objectives. My uncle, of course, and getting my lordship back. Before that, however, was Rollar and his army. Now that I knew where they were, I wasn’t going to wait a second longer.
Chapter Seven
I gave Grast a good firm handshake. “Thank you for all your help, Grast.” I looked him in the eye so that he knew I meant it. “You’re a good man. I won’t forget you.”
“Nor I you, Lord Chauzec. You’re a hero is what you are! And I’ll spread word of your exploits throughout the land. I’m honored to have been able to serve you. Hey, would you like one last shot of my fine Yorish brandy for the road?”
“Sure, why not,” I answered with a laugh.
Grast grinned and glugged down a mouthful of brandy before passing his wineskin to me. I sucked back a generous amount of the fiery liquid before handing it back to him.
“That’ll keep me going for the next few hours, my friend,” I said. “Thank you!”
I approached Cranton, and he bowed his head to me. “My priest,” I said with all the officiality I could muster. “Make sure you don’t fuck this up.”
He laughed gingerly. “Oh, I won’t disappoint you, man. I’ll find the best warriors and assassins, make them believe in you, and give them coins. You’ll be practically drowning in souls, man!”
“That’s what I like to hear.”
We got busy unloading the wagon, getting Fang and all my troops out, and making sure we had all of our traveling stuff with us. When we were ready to go, we said a final farewell to Grast and Cranton and watched as the massive wagon rumbled slowly down the road into the darkness.
From here on, we’d be sticking mostly to the woods and wouldn’t likely see another road for some time to come. I decided to walk rather than ride Fang. After being cooped up in a wagon for hours, I needed to stretch my legs, and I was pretty sure the others did too.
I had a reasonably accurate idea of where the ruins were located, but Grast had given me more detailed directions.
“What’s Brakith like?” Elyse asked me as we marched along the forest trail, my undead army behind and in front of us.
“The winters are long, dark, and cold, and freezing blizzards often blow down from the Northern Wastes,” I said. “There’s no need to frown. The summers are fucking glorious. Long, warm days of sunshine. The trees in the orchards are heavy with ripe summer fruit, the water in the streams and rivers is clear and cool, perfect for swimming, and the green hills become seas of color, alive with wildflowers.”
“I didn’t know you could be so poetic,” Rami commented with a smile. “What’s the city like?”
“It’s dominated by the castle that stands on the tall hill that overlooks the city, built a thousand years ago. It’s a strong castle, built to withstand dragons, if you believe the stories. I can’t think of any army in Prand that would have an easy time breaching its defenses.”
Rami looked over her shoulder at my zombie Crusaders. “Even an undead army?”
“I know a few secret entrances into the keep,” I replied. “The city is sprawled out over the plains below Giant’s Mound. The buildings are all made of gray stone rather than wood and aren’t quite as jumbled and close-packed as they are in Erst. The people of Brakith are good, salt-of-the-earth folk. Unfortunately, they trust their rulers far too much.”
“I suppose that’s how the rumors your uncle spread about you were able to destroy your reputation there,” Isu said. She had undergone almost a complete change over the last few days. No longer did thinly veiled vengeance broil beneath her surface. Instead, she seemed genuinely pleased to be a member of my party.
Still, I wasn’t entirely sure she’d jettisoned any notion of restoring her
