We sat down in a circle in the center of the chamber, and I told the assassins the story of everything that had happened thus far. I kept it as brief as possible, but it still took a good few hours to detail my rise from necromancer to god, and my journey from Brakith, the Wastes, and Yeng. I explained to them our need to break into the deepest vaults of Luminescent Spires so that we might obtain the Dragon Heart and the Tear of Light.
“We knew that something bigger than the usual banal evil was at work here,” Rhuz said, shaking his head slowly and sighing, “but we had no idea it was this monstrous. We will do everything in our power to get you into those vaults and help you defeat Elandriel and the Blood God, brother Jang al-Ghazul. We will go out now, in fact, and call together every assassin in Luminescent Spires. We will all meet back here in the hour before dawn to discuss a strategy. In the meantime, brother, you and your women should rest and refuel yourselves. There is plenty of food in the pantry there, and although our chambers are simple, the bedrolls are clean and comfortable.”
“Thank you, brother Rhuz,” I said.
He gave me a subtle bow, then he and the other assassins melted into the shadows as fluidly and silently as they had emerged from within the alley.
“Even though we disposed of those vile rags an hour ago,” Yumo-Rezu said, wrinkling her nose, “I swear I can still smell that stench clinging to my hair and skin. I won’t feel clean until I’ve had a bath.”
“You’re in luck then,” I said. “Assassins are fastidious about cleanliness; we have to be, to quickly wash off blood or makeup from disguises, or any other evidence of our illicit activities. Every assassin’s den in Prand has a bath chamber. Have a look around; there’ll be one here.”
“I think I’ll join her,” Friya said. “My extra-sensitive werewolf nose is also picking up lingering traces of that awful stink … even though I know it’s gone.”
The two women left me alone in the chamber. I figured that now that I had a few hours to myself, this would be the perfect time to pay a visit to the rest of my party, who had to have reached Brakith by now. All I needed was for Anna-Lucielle to find the actor and jab him with the enchanted bone fragment I’d created, and I could get inside his body and mind control him exactly like I would one of my zombies.
To see how far they’d come, I first had to take a peek through the eyes of my very first undead harpy. I sat in the middle of the chamber, closed my eyes, and launched my spirit into Talon’s body, spectrally flying across half the continent of Prand in less than a second. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself in Talon’s body, observing the world through her senses of perception.
I found myself perched on top of the highest tower in Brakith, from which I was able to see the landscape for miles around, and the sight that greeted my harpy eyes was a dismal one. I was now able to perceive the vastness of the army besieging my home. The reports that stated that this was one of the largest armies ever assembled in Prand were not exaggerations. Camped around the city walls, surrounding Brakith from all sides, were at least 100,000 Church of Light troops. I knew that most of them were recent conscripts and likely barely able to swing a sword, but even so, by sheer weight of numbers, the defenders were outnumbered by over a hundred to one.
What was more, the core of the Church Army was made up of around 10,000 battle-hardened veteran fighters, who again outnumbered my guards and defenders by ten to one. The Church Army also had a great many siege engines of various kinds, from ballistae to catapults to trebuchets, battering rams, and siege towers.
The destruction these war machines had already wrought on my city was immense. At least half of the buildings in Brakith had been reduced to rubble, and those that were still standing were badly damaged.
I flew Talon down into the town for a better look at what was happening on the ground. What I saw there broke my heart. The citizens of Brakith—my people, who had always stood by me with such loyalty—were starving. Most were rail thin, with skin that was dull and grayish, and glazed-over eyes. Many were too weak to move and were simply lying on the cobbled streets or in the gutters. Since there was almost no water to drink and no food to eat, people were drinking muddy ditch water or stagnant water trapped in gutters. Malnourished children were trying to eat grass and chewed on leather boots in a desperate and pathetic attempt to satiate their hunger.
Elandriel didn’t have to win the battle or even storm the town, despite the overwhelming advantage in strength and numbers he already had over us; he had almost won already, simply by starving everyone almost to death. He could have stormed Brakith now, and my haggard defenders wouldn’t have been able to offer more than token resistance, but I suspected that he and his Church Army commanders knew that. They wanted my people to suffer, to die slow, agonizing deaths of thirst and starvation.
Righteous fury boiled within me. Elandriel was doing everything he could to destroy me and everything I owned, everything associated with me in any way. The citizens of Brakith had been steadfast and honorable in their loyalty to me, and the Church was making sure that they were paying for this loyalty with untold suffering. As I took in these scenes of despair,
