“It’s fucking stunning.”
“And strong, m’lord! It’s not just pretty, oh no! This is the finest steel in all of Prand, and I’ve heat-treated it more times over than any other armorer would. No axe or sword, save for a powerful magic weapon, will get through this. And see here, m’lord,” he continued, pointing out a number of subtly hidden sockets he’d worked into various pieces of the armor, “slots in which you can fit magic gems so that you can enchant the armor and give various parts of it extra powers.”
“You’re a true master of your craft. Thank you. This is indeed a worthy suit of plate armor for the God of Death. I’ll send a servant from the Keep to pick it up later, my good man. And I’ll send around an extra bag of coin as a bonus for such exceptional work.”
“Thank you, m’lord!” he exclaimed, a broad grin splayed across his wrinkly face. “You are most kind.”
I shook his hand and then left the armory and headed over to the castle stables, where my giant zombie lizard Fang was being kept. We’d had to cordon off a whole section of the stables for him and the undead horses. Understandably, the living horses weren’t too fond of them, and they also kind of spooked the grooms and stable hands.
Fang’s glowing, yellowy-green eyes lit up when he saw me; this man-eating lizard was just like a big puppy when I was around… unless I wanted him to chomp people’s heads off and rip their torsos in two with his monstrous jaws. He let out a deep rumble, and I walked over to scratch him behind the ear holes on his massive, blood-red head.
“Hey buddy,” I said, “you’re going to get the chance to stretch your legs again. I know you haven’t been too happy cooped up in these stables these last few months. Well, don’t worry, because tomorrow we’re hitting the road again.”
I needed to get to my zombie harpy too; I’d told Rami, who was also Xayon but still Rami—yeah, it could get confusing—that I’d send the harpy out to find her when I was ready to leave Brakith. That way, she could meet up with me on the road to the Wastes, hopefully with an army of Wind devotees following her. The harpy would need to cover a good distance, so I needed to send her out this morning; she might end up flying for days before she found Rami-Xayon. So that it wouldn’t be like searching for a needle in a haystack, Rami-Xayon had given me a piece of a small Wind trinket before she’d left. She’d kept the other half. It was a minor magical bracelet, with no real power or use, but if I gave the harpy my half, it would be like a homing beacon, drawing the harpy to wherever Rami-Xayon was.
I was about to leave the stables and head over to where I kept my harpy, in the top of one of the Keep’s towers, when a piercing shout shattered the silence.
“Battle stations!” one of the sergeants on the battlements yelled. “Guards, soldiers, battle stations! Crossbowmen and archers, ready your weapons!”
Suddenly, shouts were flying from all over the place. Soldiers and guards raced around, grabbing spears, bows, crossbows, arrows, and swords.
“What the fuck is going on?!” I stormed out of the stables and whipped Grave Oath out of its sheath, ready to fight if necessary.
One of the guards on the battlements saw me and tossed a rope down for me.
“Quickly, my lord, get up here!” he yelled. “You need to see this, my lord!”
I gripped Grave Oath between my teeth as I clambered up the rope, and I shoved the guard out of the way as soon as I got up onto the battlements. Immediately, I realized exactly why everyone had fallen into a panic. There, coming down the road from the distant hills, was the dark mass of an army, fast approaching Brakith.
Chapter Three
I watched in grim silence as the army slithered slowly toward Brakith like a vast black snake. Who were these soldiers? Was this my uncle Rodrick and his army, come to retake Brakith from me? Was it a division of the Splendorous Army, sent to capture Rollar? Was it servants of the Blood God, come to destroy me before I got powerful enough to take him on?
They were too far away for me to tell at this point, but I knew how I could get a good look at them long before they could get a good look at me. I closed my eyes and sent my mind into that of Talon the harpy, melding my senses and motor functions with the beast’s.
I sent it up into the air, and even though I wasn’t flying, I could feel—with as intense a sensation as if I were one with the body of the creature—the wind rippling through my wings, the currents of air buffeting me as I soared up hundreds of feet above the ground. And, closing my eyes, I saw through the harpy’s eyes, as clearly and vividly as if they’d been my own.
As many times as I did this, I never got tired of it, and it never lost its exhilarating thrill. As far as I knew, I was the only man in Prand—hell, the whole world, surely—who had ever experienced, and I mean truly experienced, flight. Down below me, the land beyond the city walls looked like a patchwork quilt, colored in various hues of green and brown, with huge trees looking like mere florets of broccoli from this height. People and sheep and cattle in the fields looked like miniatures, and huge wagons like children’s toys.
But enjoying a leisurely cruise among the clouds wasn’t the reason I’d sent my harpy up there. I flew it straight toward the army, staying high enough so that I’d be out of reach of their archers and crossbowmen.
As I drew
