“Old dead,” said the prince, watching them.
“What?” Haplo asked. “What do you mean?”
“Necropolis is using their old dead, the dead of generations past.” Edmund motioned to the dead captain of his army. “Send one of your men to fetch Baltazar. You can always tell the old dead.” The prince, speaking offhandedly, turned back to Haplo. “The necromancers weren’t so skilled in their art. They lacked the knowledge of how to keep the flesh from decaying, of how to maintain the cadavers.”
“Do your dead always fight your wars?”
“For the most part they do, now that we have built up substantial armies. Once, the living fought wars.” Edmund shook his head. ‘A tragic waste. But that was many years ago, long before I was born. Necropolis sent the old dead. I wonder,” he continued, frowning, “what this means.”
“What could it mean?”
“It could be a feint, an attempt to draw us out, force us to reveal our true strength. That’s what Baltazar would say,” the prince added, smiling. “But it could also be a sign from the people of Necropolis . that they don’t mean us serious harm. As you can see, our new dead could defeat this lot with ease. I believe Necropolis wants to negotiate.”
Edmund gazed ahead, eyes squinting against the bright red glow of the magma sea. “There must be living among them. Yes, I see them. Marching at the rear.”
Two black-robed and cowled necromancers walked some distance behind their shabby army, well out of range of spear throw. Haplo was startled to note the presence of living wizards, but realized, on observation, that the necromancers were required not only to lead the army and maintain the magic that held the crumbling bodies together, but also to act as macabre shepherds.
More than once, a corpse came to a standstill, ceased to fight, or sometimes one would fall down and not get back up. The necro-f mancers hastened into their flock, prodding and commanding, urging them forward. When a cadaver fell down, it might, on standing, face the wrong direction and head off on some erratic course directed by its faulty memory. The necromancer, like a conscientious sheepdog, raced after it, turned the dead soldier around, forced it to once more join the fray.
Edmund’s dead, which Haplo supposed could be called the “new dead,” did not appear subject to these failings. The small
skirmishing force fought well, reducing enemy numbers by literally battering the old dead into the ground. The larger portion of the army remained grouped behind their prince in the cavern opening, a skilled army awaiting command. Edmund’s only precaution was to continually remind the dead captain of its orders. At each reminder, the captain would nod its head alertly, as if receiving such instructions for the first time. Haplo wondered if the prince’s messenger would remember the message by the time it reached Baltazar.
Edmund stirred restlessly. Suddenly, giving way to impulse, he leapt up on a boulder, showing himself to the advancing army. “Hold!” he cried, raising his hand up, palm outward, in a gesture of parley.
“Halt!” cried the enemy necromancers, and both armies, after a moment of confusion, lurched to a stumbling standstill. The necromancers remained stationed behind their troops, able to see and hear, but still protected by their dead.
“Why do you march on my people?” Edmund demanded.
“Why did your people attack the citizens of Safe Harbor?” It was a female who spoke, her voice ringing clear and strong through the sulfurous air.
“Our people did not attack,” the prince countered. “We came to the town seeking to buy supplies and were set on—”
“You came armed!” the woman interrupted coldly.
“Of course, we came armed! We have passed through perilous lands. We have been attacked by a fire dragon since we left our homeland. Your people attacked us without provocation! Naturally, we defended ourselves, but we meant them no harm and, as proof, you can see that we left the town with all its wealth safe and untouched, although my people are starving.”
The two necromancers conferred together in low voices. The prince remained standing—a proud and lordly figure—on the black rock.