Dru watched from the hilltop as the necromancer’s living men finished wiping out the scattered, wandering remnants of their regiment of once-dead. That awful work done, they retired to their camp for some sort of council. And, no doubt, to fill their bellies on leftovers from breakfast.
About noon, the officer with the crimson-crested helmet came to bellow taunts at her.
“You up there! You’re a clever one! And that greenie was Quamdamn smart. But my horsemen hurt him bad. There’s a mess of his blood out there on the turf, and now he’s dragged himself off in the woods to die. And I’ve still got two hundred veterans. You’ve got nothing but a handful of girls and old men up there.”
Dru raised her sword high. It caught the noonday sun and flashed silver as she hollered back.
“I’ve still go
