Paul’s POV

  The remaining two villages surrendered without any issue. Now nothing stood between Paul and the bog and its lissik inhabitants. As they advanced, the ground grew softer, each step sinking slightly into damp earth. The air thickened with the scent of decay and stagnant water. Gideon Blackwood, the alchemist, brought them to a stop.

  He had a long thin metal rod and started spearing the ground with it. After a couple thrusts, there was a noticeable ‘tink’. Gideon smiled widely as he thrust a hand into the mud and pulled out a reddish spongy looking rock.

  “This is bog iron.” Gideon said. “It grows in the mud, but should be as smeltable as iron from a mine.”

  Gideon handed Paul the iron chunk. It weighed about 2 pounds. Paul cast a small cleaning spell on the iron. Once cleaned it looked rusty red with small glittering flakes in it. The small holes in its surface were far more pronounced than before.

  “Are most chunks this size?” Paul asked.

  “Not necessarily.” Gideon said. “The average chunk could be pretty massive, if they haven’t been harvested recently. Maybe around 20 to 30 pounds.”

  “Could my undead warrior mine the bog iron easily?” Paul handed the now clean iron back to Gideon.

  “The undead won’t be very useful in the mining process itself.” Gideon responded. “They would be good at hauling the iron back to Gravewell, but you need to have reasoning to extract the iron from the bog.” He started poking the rod into the mud again. “The goblins would be much better at it. The lissik deeper in the bog would be good also.” Gideon looked up at Paul, “Maybe an alliance can be struck with the lissik to mine the ore for us can be struck?”

  “Maybe.” Paul said as he looked deeper into the bog. “What…?”

  Before Paul could finish his thought an arrow struck him in the shoulder. He grunted and nearly fell from his horse.

  “Round up!” Rikkard yelled. “We are under attack, bows at the ready.” Rikkard ran towards Paul. “Get off the horse, you’re an easy target up there.”

  “I didn’t dismount among the goblin tribes.” Paul said.

  “You also weren’t in the front lines fighting an enemy we can’t see.” Rikkard said.

  A couple more arrows passed by Paul, one grazing his neck. Gritting his teeth Paul dismounted. Hiding behind his troops he sent his skeletons into the bog to find the attackers.

  His troops made their way slowly into the bog. The arrows stopped flying. Paul looked towards where the arrows had come from. Not hearing any fighting, he assumed the ambushers fled. As he was getting ready to turn away and walk back to Gideon, more arrows started to fly from their right.

  Again, Rikkard’s response was immediate. “To the right, archers let your arrows fly.” Rikkard looked over at Paul. “We should send more skeletons to the left as well as the right. It is likely a small scouting party. We’ll either catch them or chase them off, either is good. We need to regroup.”

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  Paul nodded his assent. A group of thirty skeletons went both towards the right, where the arrows were coming from, and to the left, where they could come from next.

  After several moments there was a loud croaky yell. It came from between the right and center search parties. Unconcerned with the potential danger, he ran with bloodlust toward the yell. Once further in the bog, Paul saw a lissik on its back with an arrow in its leg.

  The creature looked as described to him by Rikkard. It looked like a giant bullfrog with two powerfully built legs that allowed it stand upright and jump greats heights. Its skin was a mossy green, allowing it to camouflage easily with the bog. It stood about 2 ? feet tall. It wore cloths that seemed functional. On its back was an empty quiver of arrows and a spear.

  Next to the wounded lissik were a couple of dead ones. Paul’s skeletons had run them down. They were most likely carrying the wounded lissik when they were set upon.

  “Do you want to die along side your fellows?” Paul asked as he neared the lissik.

  The lissik looked at Paul. He could see fear in its eyes. Tell us where to find the rest of your kin and we’ll let you live. The lissik, though filled with fear, spit at Paul. Moving out of the way of the spittle, Paul commanded his troops to seize the lissik.

  The skeletal troops followed Paul back to where the main forces waited. Rikkard met them at the point where Paul had left from.

  “That was unnecessarily risky.” Rikkard said. “You have others who could do these things for you. You’re a high chief now. Your life shouldn’t be risked chasing lissik through the mud.”

  “Noted.” Paul said. “Take away his weapons.” He instructed his goblins. “Liora, what do you think of making him an undead that can speak?”

  “Something we could reliably interrogate.” Liora nodded. “Something easily banished once we no longer have need for it would be good too. The threat of the true death may make it more reliable.”

  “I was thinking of a simple spirit.” Paul said. “Nothing quite so strong as a wraith, but nothing so stupid as a skeleton or zombie.”

  “Agreed. Spirit it is.” Liora said.

  Paul began to call death mana from his tether. It was a quick process. Death was his strongest tether. Since joining the ranks of the undead himself, his death tether had done nothing but grow. He had the spells to create undead committed to memory. Alaric had made sure of it.

  His sire had done everything in his power to make Paul a powerful necromancer in his own right. Vampires, like wraiths, were loyal, unconditionally, to their creators. Alaric had no issues trusting Paul would use his newfound powers to Alaric’s benefit.

  Finishing the spell, Paul placed a hand on the held lissik. With a sharp, piercing shriek, it died, and its body shriveled and turned into a dried good for nothing husk. Rising out of it was a dim, hard to see, spirit.

  “Spirit,” Paul said, “where is your village?”

  “It is north of here.” The lissik said.

  “What kinds of defenses does it have?” Rikkard asked.

  The spirit looked at Rikkard with distaste, but didn’t answer. Rikkard just stood there, unthreatened by the gaze of the lissik.

  “You heard him,” Paul said. “Answer him.”

  The lissik’s face twisted with pain. “There are some traps for people who get too close, but we have never had a force this large enter the bog before. We have never needed greater defenses.”

  “How many warriors do you have?” Rikkard asked.

  “Around 30. The village has a population of 323, most don’t know how to fight. Our hunters are our only real defense. That and the bog.” The spirit looked pained the entire time it spoke.

  “Do we destroy it now?” Liora asked.

  “No. Have it show us the village in person.” Rikkard said. “After that it could stay around as a spy.”

  “Sounds like a good plan.” Paul said.

  “The trees should thin out to the point of being nonexistent.” Gideon said. “The water becomes too acidic to support trees.”

  “If there are no trees, what kinds of building are we looking for?” Paul asked.

  “The huts are made of peat moss and clay from the bog.” The spirit said. “They blend in with the terrain really well.”

  “How much resistance can we expect?” Rikkard asked.

  “My people will not meekly surrender.” The spirit said.

  “What is your name spirit?” Paul asked.

  “Slorbb.” He responded.

  “Well, Slorbb, you can tell your people they can surrender, or they will serve in their next life like you.” Paul said. “I promise to be a just ruler, but I will rule over the lissik, like I do the goblins, one way or another.” Paul remounted his horse. “It will be a long slog through the mud to get to the lissik village, take the time to think about what you want to say to your kin.”