Her eyes looked as if they were about to pop out of their sockets from the fright of the near-miss.
“Uh, d-down in the cellars,” she answered, still shaken-up by coming within mere inches of being turned into a flesh, blood, and bone pancake by a Church of Light trebuchet.
“Good. Let’s head that way right now; there’s no time to waste,” I said. “Hmm, and on the way there, I need to run a test or two, just to make sure this whole possessing-the-body-of-the-actor is as complete as I need it to be.”
“What kind of test?”
“This kind,” I said, stepping swiftly to the side just as the dead body of a Brakith guard, skewered through the throat by a Church sniper’s crossbow bolt seconds earlier, came plummeting down from the ramparts above and landed with a dull thump on the cobbled stones where I’d been standing.
I pointed at the body, pulling the power of Death up through the actor’s body—my surrogate body. This was something I couldn’t do with any of my undead minions, but now, in the actor’s living body, with the Death and Charm magic enchantment I’d created with the Dragon Sword, I was sure this would work.
Sure enough, I felt the power of Death energy coursing through the body I was in. From my fingertips, a black vein of power—visible only to my eyes—blasted out and slammed into the dead guard like a bolt of lightning. The man’s still heart began to beat again, but it was not blood that the revived organ was pumping through his veins. It was the glowing yellow-green liquid of the undead. His limp body jerked and spasmed, and his closed eyes opened, glowing in the twilight of the falling dusk with the same unnatural hue of the liquid surging through his veins. He growled wordlessly and yanked the crossbow bolt out of his throat, tossing it contemptuously aside as he stood up, filled with the power of Death.
I grinned. This was perfect. I had succeeded in doing something that was nigh-on impossible: being in two places at once. My sixth sense started tingling again, and I decided to ramp up the intensity of my test of my powers. I hadn’t used my Death Fists for a while, but the next few seconds would provide a perfect opportunity to do just that.
“Take a few steps back, Anna-Lucielle,” I said. “Now.”
She could hear the urgency in my tone, so she jogged a few steps back as I pulled the power of Death into my hand, turning my fist into a weapon packing more force and energy than a Jotunn’s battle club swung by a berserker giant. This time, as the trebuchet-flung boulder I’d sensed came hurtling down from the sky directly toward me, I did not step out of the way. Instead, I watched as it tore through the air at frantic speed, for a direct collision course with me.
“Vance!” Anna-Lucielle screamed in the spit-second that she saw the projectile coming hurtling down, directly toward me.
I paid no attention to her cry of alarm; my Death fist was cocked, ready for a mighty blow. I timed it perfectly, swinging hard in a vicious right cross as the massive boulder came down on me. In a burst of brutal power, two bodies of immense strength and momentum collided.
But only one survived.
With a burst of shattered stone and a billowing cloud of dust, the boulder exploded as my fist connected with it. The fragments of rock flew everywhere, and the bang from the explosion was loud enough to blow out the windows of a few stone buildings nearby, but I stood in the center of the cloud of dust, unharmed and triumphant. My possession of this body was complete, and pretty much anything I could do in my own body, I could do in this one.
“Men on the ramparts, manning the towers, holding the city gates!” I roared out, my voice thundering through the city. “Hear my voice!”
“It’s Lord Chauzec!” one of the defenders on the ramparts cried out. “He’s returned! In our darkest hour, he’s returned to save the city!”
“You are the true heroes of Brakith!” I roared. “And your noble deeds will be sung about by bards and poets in the centuries to come. You have held this city against on overwhelming force of attackers who are bent on the destruction of every life within these walls … but if it’s death they want, then it’s death they shall receive … their own deaths, for Death once again walks the streets of Brakith! The God of Death, and I’m here to take back my city, and take the fight to those who would destroy it!”
A great cheer erupted from the defenders, and I could feel their weary spirits and drained bodies being re-energized by fresh inspiration.
“No longer will you cower within these walls while the enemy wears you down, like so many drops of water eating away at a rock over thousands of years! Tonight, when darkness falls, we will bring the fight to them, and all the powers of Death will be with us. Ready your armor, sharpen your weapons, and fill your hearts with courage, for tonight, my loyal soldiers, we vanquish the invaders and paint the fields of Brakith red with their blood!”
Another cheer boomed through the streets of Brakith. Even the half-dead citizens who were lying in the gutters, weakened to the point of immobility by starvation and thirst, raised their emaciated bodies and their skeletally thin arms, curling their hands into determined fists.
“No more starvation, no more thirst, no more deprivation!” I yelled, now addressing the citizens. “Tonight, my steadfast citizens, you will feast on the choicest fare and the finest wine, and fill your bellies to the point of bursting. After we’ve won this battle, you’ll feast like kings on all the lavish fare I’ll take from the dead Church of Light commanders and their supply wagons. Their decapitated heads will watch you feast on their food from
