In the eyes of approaching skeletons, Count Arstain saw evil green lights. Their howls echoed in his ears…
This was the last straw.
Panting so hard that he began to feel lightheaded, Count Arstain turned his horse around and ran, ran without looking around or seeing anything!
The spears of skeletal servants that tried to hit him struck only empty air. There wasn't a single wight among them…
Yet all the count could hear was the mad howling, and all he could see were glowing green eyes.
The sight of their leader fleeing in blind panic broke the spirits of nearby defenders of Oakdale. They found in themselves the courage to fight undead abominations only because their leader was near, but now?
Now they have also begun routing and fleeing!
By the time Aleric had reached the gate, the resistance around it was completely broken. Everybody either ran away or died, and more and more undead freely walked into the town.
This entire time, only two arrows have hit Aleric's shield. Which meant that it was still worth being hauled all the way from Tronvill.
At Aleric's approach, Samuel saluted with a bloody sword and walked from behind the throngs of undead.
"Our entrance to the city is secure, Master Fenn!"
Aleric looked at the piles of corpses that made the trail of Samuel's progress and whistled.
"You are the best, Samuel. I wish I had a dozen paladins like you. Damn, even two would've been great."
"I'm proud to serve you, master," Samuel replied, respectfully lowering his head. "With the Light's… No, with the Dark's blessing, there will be more powerful fighters that you will bring to the Dark. There were some decent ones among the count's men."
"None as good as you, I can tell already. Anyway, gather the men—we will strike the count's castle now. I saw him run—if he has any brains left, the count will hide there. When I raise him as my undead servant, the people of Oakdale will bow before me. Or I will make them. And for now…"
Aleric raised his staff and read the incantation. The emanations of fresh deaths poured into him as his own Dark energy poured out and surrounded the surrounding copses with green light.
Using Dark magic in a place like that was as easy as in Mirkhill Fort.
A moment later, the bodies of horses and soldiers alike rose again to fight as Aleric's slaves.
"Your new soldiers, Samuel," Aleric said. "I might summon their souls and upgrade them to undead servants later."
"Understood, master."
Samuel waved his hand, and some of his lieutenants came over—servants whose skeletons were destroyed in battle. Samuel passed the fresh zombies under their command, quickly restoring the chain of command.
After that, he turned to Aleric.
"We are ready to move out!"
"Then march. And send the wights to scout ahead. Their knack for sensing nearby living will make sure we won't be ambushed."
"Yes, master."
***
People barricaded inside their houses and prayed to Light as the undead army marched into the city. There was nobody to see Count Arstain rush down the dark streets. Only in a few places were there still pockets of resistance, and even they were easily smashed by hordes of undead.
Even if there was any light, both he and his horse were blind with panic.
For a while, luck let his horse find a stable footing.
Then, the count's luck ran out, and the horse's foot hit a pothole in the paved road!
With a crack of breaking bone, the horse's leg twisted. It neighed pitifully, tumbling forward and throwing its rider forward.
The count gasped, too shocked to try to land safely. He hit the cobblestones hard, and it was only the count's helmet that saved him from instant death.
Then the horse fell on top of Arstain, pinning him down.
With his senses dulled from pain and dizziness, the count couldn't see anything but darkness and hear anything but his own rasping breathing.
It was as if Dark itself, the unfathomable force of overwhelming elemental evil, was swallowing him…
And then, a pair of green eyes appeared above.
'I'm gone… I'm already seeing things…' the count thought. But then, he heard a voice come through the cotton in his ears.
"He didn't even reach the castle. Amazing. Excellent. Great. What was that other long word, Staff?"
"Incredible? Wondrous? Astounding? Awe-inspiring?" said the Spine Staff, whose eyes were the ones the count saw.
Without thinking about it, the count was running back to his castle—so naturally, Aleric's army just stumbled upon him!
"All of that," Aleric said, shaking his head with a grin. "Thank you, Count. This will greatly help me take your castle."
The count only had the strength to groan. Then Aleric gave one of his bodyguards an order, and his misery was ended with a thrust of a spear.
Then, Aleric raised his staff.
"It's time to see if I can cast the Raise Undead Servant without a ritual! Herra patsluukuu tuo takaisin…"
Dark energy poured from Aleric to the Spine Staff and from him to the ground around Arstain's body. It struggled without a ritual heptagram to direct it. Like a man trying to draw for the first time without a stencil, Aleric struggled for a moment as his spell tried to go out of control.
Some mana poured out, and Aleric clenched his fists on the Spine Staff's handle.
All around, the undead went as quiet as they could to not interrupt their master's concentration. Even the wights went silent by orders from their leaders.
"…listaotel!" Aleric finished, forcefully pulling the spell together.
A heptagram from green flames appeared around the body, capturing the soul that was still lingering near the body. Then, Aleric was plunged into the spell's deserted soulscape.
The count's soul was there. In the soulscape, Danit Arstain wore no armor—only a richly embroidered dressing he wore for dinners and hunts he liked to host.
He stared at Aleric with the helpless eyes of a completely lost person.
"What… is going on? Am I dead? But why do I still see you? See… THEM?"