“By all the gods!” Rami-Xayon immediately gasped. “I felt that! They’re suddenly far more powerful than anything I could have created on my own!”
“The magic of the Dragon Sword, baby, the magic of the fucking Dragon Sword.” I grinned. “Let’s drain those lakes and dams, and dump all that water on the Warlock’s plain. Get those tornados sucking like a copper-coin whore behind a sailors’ tavern on discount night!”
With my help, Rami-Xayon directed her enormously powerful tornados to the various lakes, dams, and rivers in the region of the Warlock’s tower. The windstorms sucked up and vaporized the water, impregnating the hurricane she was simultaneously forming with a small sea’s worth of water. Once the vast hurricane could no longer hold a drop more, we sent it to the Warlock’s plain. There, it howled and raged, dumping a torrential downpour upon the battlefield.
Rami panted and shook from the effort. “It’ll keep going until all that water we’ve stuffed into them is spent.”
She had used every last drop of her power to put this storm together, and was on the verge of collapse. I wasn’t feeling too fantastic either.
“We’d both better get some rest and restore our energy,” I said. “Our next feat will require even more strength than that. We can do that tomorrow night, though; the closer to the battle, the better, really.”
“What do you need this gigantic tornado for anyway?” she asked.
I just smiled and shook my head; she didn’t need to know just yet. She’d probably dismiss the idea as crazy. When her strength had been restored, she’d be more likely to put the idea in the realm of possibility. Hell, I wasn’t sure whether the idea wasn’t crazy myself. It probably was, but it was the only way we could destroy the Warlock and rid his stain from Yeng.
Chapter Thirty-Two
While Rami-Xayon was resting, I went to check what my party and my undead creatures had achieved thus far. The results were impressive; the panthers and giant lizards had been digging tirelessly, and many corpses in various states of decay had been unearthed. I still needed a great many more to construct my Death titan, but I was confident that by the time my army was to set off for the Warlock’s plain, I’d have enough.
Nightfall came, and in the distance our hurricane raged, slowly filling up the hollow in the plain with water and turning it into a pond. Storm clouds gathered above us in the village, and shears of lightning ripped through the sky, but no lightning struck nearby. The Warlock was simply showing off, giving us a show of what he intended for the battlefield in two days.
My army arrived in the village the next day, and my chest swelled with pride at the sight of it. Drok, mounted on Fang, and Rollar, riding his undead direbear, were leading the army into the village. My divisions of undead creatures was diverse and impressive, from the towering Frost Giants and terrifying war spiders, to the undead barbarian cavalry on direwolves, the new elite Yengish warriors with their swords and spears, my mutant lizards and panthers, the zombie Crusaders, archers, and crossbowmen, the skeleton cavalry and infantry divisions, led by good ol’ Sarge with his golden paladin’s greatsword, and many others.
I’d started off as a lone assassin and crypt diver, robbed of my title and lands by my uncle and cast out of the holy city of Luminescent Spires by Elandriel—who had told me, incidentally, that I’d end up nothing more than a street beggar. And now I had this, the greatest undead army the world had ever seen, with troops numbering almost ten thousand in total. And I was leading this force as the God of Death. Fuck you and your bullshit prophecy, Elandriel.
Isu, standing next to me, seemed to be reading my mind. “You’ve come a long way, Vance. I knew I was making the right decision when I made you Fated. Even so, I could never have imagined that you’d achieve this. There have been other Death deities before you and I, but none have ever commanded an army like this. I don’t think the world has ever seen an army like this one.”
“And tomorrow the Warlock will find out exactly what this army is capable of.” I clenched my fists with determined resolve. “After tomorrow, the whole world is going to know what the God of Death and his Army of Necrosis are capable of.”
I had a few drinks with Rollar and Drok to bring them up to speed and gave Fang a good scratch behind his ears (he seemed to have missed me, which was odd but interesting for an undead beast). When I’d achieved a little buzz, I rested for a while, building up my strength after what Rami-Xayon and I had done the day before. We’d need to repeat that performance tonight, in the early hours of the morning when everyone else was asleep. It would take every last drop of power we could wring from our minds, bodies, and souls.
So, in the dead of night, Rami-Xayon and I met in the same empty hut as before.
“Are you ready to summon the most powerful tornado that’s ever existed?” I asked.
Rami-Xayon’s beautiful face was set in an expression of grim determination. “I’m ready.”
She took my hand and we started the process. It took all night and required so much effort that I did something afterward that I hadn’t done for weeks: I slept. I woke up, feeling replenished and ready to fight. Rami-Xayon took a little longer to recover, but she too felt good enough to do battle when she awoke. When everyone was up and ready, we set off, with the aim of reaching the
