Page 163 of Warlord's Plaything

The orcs are not just fighting the elves anymore.

They are fighting their own dead.

Kaelith laughs.

Fucking laughs.

His once-broken army is rising again, reforged from the corpses at his feet.

And the orcs?—

The orcs are hesitating.

They know.

They understand.

They just lost their advantage.

"This was always my war,"Kaelith calls across the battlefield, his voice carrying through the madness."Did you really think I would fall so easily?"

His eyes flash with cruel amusement as he watches the orcs hesitate, watches his own soldiers rally behind him again.

And I grit my teeth.

I should have fucking known.

"What do we do?"

Valis is at my side, his face tight with something that almost looks like concern.

But I don’t fucking hesitate.

"We end it."

I leap from the watchtower, landing in the dirt, rolling once before pushing back onto my feet.

The nearest undead lunges for me, mouth twisted, body jerking like a marionette on broken strings.

I slam my blade through its skull.

It doesn’t stop.

It doesn’t die.

Not until I slice through the magic itself, severing the unnatural energy that binds it.

I carve my way through the battlefield, toward the only man that matters.

Kaelith sees me coming.

His smirk widens.

He lifts his hand again, more magic curling at his fingertips.

Hira hits him first.

She comes from the side, a flash of steel and fire and fucking fury.

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