Deathmask by Chris A. Jackson

Author:Chris A. Jackson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fantasy, horror, necromancer, zombie, magic, Chris A. Jackson, war
Publisher: Jaxbooks
Published: 2011-09-20T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Two

The smell of wood smoke and cooking meat told Shildra that she had finally caught up with the eastern army. When their encampment came into view, the sight wasn’t very impressive; it was nothing but a clutter of tents pitched right on the road and heavily laden wagons pulled onto the shoulders. The first light of dawn was barely coloring the eastern sky, but she could already hear the clatter of cook pots and the bustle of the camp coming awake. She slowed her pace and took stock of the men and women that moved about the tents and wagons, some eating, some tending equipment and some just standing and staring, leaning on spears or halberds. They all looked tired and road worn, but well fed and hale of limb as armies usually did. Yes, even when farmers and merchants were starving, soldiers always had enough to eat and clothes to wear. The memory of the hungry faces she’d been greeted by in Voulnash rustled the leaves of her hair, but she pushed her temper down.

“I will reserve my judgment on these men until I know the truth of them,” she resolved, continuing forward until two of the spear bearers standing in the road finally noticed her and brought their weapons to a more professional position.

“Hold up there, Lassie,” one man said, broadening his stance a bit, though his face remained bored. “There’s a war afoot, and ya can’t be passin’ through here. Go on back to yer farm where yer safe.”

“I know of this war of which you speak, good soldier, and it is the very reason I have sought your army.” She smiled disarmingly, trying to appear non-threatening, though she couldn’t imagine how she could look threatening wearing peasant’s clothes and no shoes. “I am Shildra, and I have come to speak with your commander, Lord...” she searched her memory for the name Juddurelnya had given her, “Gilthain.”

“I don’t know who you think ya are, Lassie, but Lord Gilthain is far too busy to be talkin’ to peasant girls out for a stroll, so you’d best be on.” He shifted his spear until the broad-bladed head was an arm span from her middle; his partner did likewise.

“I am no peasant, Soldier, though that title bears less offense to my ears than does your own. Those you call peasants are the workers of the earth and the harvesters of her bounty. Soldiers neither sow nor reap, but always seem to have their bellies full, even when those that grew the food go hungry.”

“Now listen you upstart, you’ll be off, and right now, or we’ll—”

At a glance from Shildra’s emerald eyes the two spears sprouted leaves, then branches, growing until the shiny metal heads dropped off. The two guards dropped their leafy weapons and leapt back in shock, their hands reaching to the hilts at their waists.

“Have a care with that longknife, Soldier,” Shildra warned, one hand raising and growing long and branchy. Her toes gripped the earth, drawing

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