Suiteonem Prime, Lakeside Town, April, 2058

  Sarnathan, The Doom That Scratches, revenant secretary— though his full class was significantly more impressive, he kept it close to his finely embroidered vest that by virtue of age was now a one of kind piece of history from an extinct nation— sat on a lord’s chair in a lord’s hall.

  Said lord was no longer in need of his things thanks to an execution courtesy of Falliana, the boring, but terrifying.

  Sarnathan wasn’t pleased at the role suddenly forced upon him, but needs must. In this case he needed to not refuse Lord Cross’ orders.

  Thus, the hall was filled with the strongest revenants and blue-skinned, giant humans for the appropriate show of strength for their imminently arriving guests.

  “For an undead you sweat more than I expected.”

  The blue-skinned, giant human was not at the moment.

  Bannegurd was still built with powerful muscles. He was just about as large as a teenage boy of his people, which was to say that he was as large as a full-grown imperial man.

  “As a matter of objective fact, a revenant is not fully undead. My body has much of the same functions as it had in life.”

  Any further conversation was cut-off by the warning in his head, so he raised a hand.

  “Our guests have arrived.”

  A beat passed.

  Then two.

  Then ten.

  Sarnathan began to grow greatly embarrassed, but thankfully the golden portal ripped the very air open.

  Demigods stepped through and the golden eye shut, leaving a bright afterimage that left even the revenant blinking.

  These children had come straight from the empress… well… the puppet crafted in her image.

  According to Lord Cross, they and the eidolon that had introduced them had been none the wiser.

  Sarnathan hoped that was true, because he had plans for his future and none of them involved the very, very angry God finding out the truth until he had long-finished his service to Lord Cross and had won his promised freedom to a world far, far away.

  “Welcome, children of Suiteonem!” He rose from the lord’s throne, spreading his fat arms out wide in the universal gesture of embrace. The smile on his face was genuine because he was skilled and Skilled in the art of obsequiousness. A necessity in the service of very powerful and fickle masters.

  He descended from the dais and embraced each demigod in turn, savoring their distaste, displeasure and discomfort at his soft, fleshy body pressed against their hard athleticism.

  Naturally, he carefully crafted the embrace to avoid straying across the line into the sexual realm for such things had always disgusted him even in life.

  “Such mighty personages! Truly! I see our God’s likeness in your flesh! May his rage grant us strength!”

  All in the lord’s hall parroted the words.

  “Revenant, you speak with the empress’ voice.”

  The golden-haired leader spoke with perfect enunciation.

  Sarnathan couldn’t detect a flaw, which was unusual.

  Even if Lord Cross hadn’t fully briefed him on the demigods, he immediately sensed their strength.

  Remarkable at such a young age.

  The leader had just turned twenty year’s of age, though the young demigod didn’t know it.

  None of the five before Sarnathan knew their true ages.

  A result of the nature of their abductions from their homes and transport to Suiteonem Prime.

  Sarnathan knew the annoyance of having to deal with differences in the measurement of time across different worlds.

  “We all speak with her voice.”

  “Then we shall listen. I’m called ‘One’.” One named the rest of his lochos as Thirty-nine, Seventy-five, Twenty-one and Nineteen.

  Sarnathan appreciated the added efficiency of naming them with numbers and the layer of obfuscation for any spies searching through official documents.

  “Wonderful!” He introduced the important figures in the hall. “We have prepared a feast in your honor!”

  One’s jaw tensed.

  “Yes, of course.”

  Ah, callow youth!

  One was the oldest of the five.

  The rest ranged from a few months to a few years younger.

  Sarnathan’s smile grew wider.

  “Eager to join the battles? Well, let me assuage your concerns. The empress will make great use of your lochos in many battles. Why, there is a dangerous super maul of snow bears threatening to spill out of the Gnashing Teeth Forest any day now. The empress welcomes you spear-heading the effort to eradicate this threat before it can spread out to impact our siege on the Imperial Shield.”

  The demigods’ faces twisted.

  “Mere animals?” One tensed.

  “Ah, apologies. My mistake. Not quite natural animals. These particular snow bears are produced by a spawn zone that has been untouched for decades. They are altered. Reports indicate some are able to breathe freezing blasts or shot freezing beams from their eyes. Some have frozen fur more impervious than enchanted steel. Some are said to split their bodies lengthwise to shoot out their organs and tentacles, which are all lined with teeth or mouths? Scouting has been from a safe distance. But, with your divine might… I’m certain victory will be swift so that you can move on to the next, greater challenge! May the rage of battle fuel your rise!”

  Silence.

  “Organ tentacle teeth?” the one named Twenty-one swallowed the lump in her throat.

  “Yes! Our scouts have captured recordings for your perusal! But! That is a matter for tomorrow! Today we feast!”

  Sarnathan ushered them out of the lord’s audience hall and to the lord’s dining hall.

  “Oh! Apologies! In my excitement for you to taste our master chef’s culinary masterworks I neglected to mention that rooms have been reserved for each of you in this very keep. No effort has been spared to, how do I say, upscale the accommodations. This was, after all, a frontier fort and the Imperials do trend to rustic provinciality the further one gets from the Inner Sea. But, one works with what one takes. Have you conquered many places yet? I’m terribly interested to know all about your grand deeds for I have just recently awoken from the frozen centuries! Come, come! Let us feast!”

  “About our transport—” One said.

  “Oh? Don’t worry about that! We have a giant undead bird all ready for you! We do have portal magic, but they are being used to bring the empress’ hordes into the valley. At this stage of the Calamity there’s no point in having them march across the ice. All eyes are on the valley, after all!”

  …

  Suiteonem Prime, Empire of Man, The Imperial Shield, April, 2058

  No funerals.

  No memorials.

  Barely a word.

  Just a stasis bag and an expedited trip back down the mountain.

  Zinna hoped that the fallen conscripts would make it back to their families before the empress turned them into undead.

  She had heard enough stories growing up from everyone and especially from vets that had spent time in and near the Frozen Eternities about a fallen comrade suddenly rising to take a chunk out of their necks.

  If she fell, she wanted her mother and brother to have something to bury.

  She definitely didn’t want to shamble back to them in an undead horde.

  “Aimed shots only!” the sergeant barked.

  A new one.

  A grizzled older woman.

  Her mother’s age judging by context clues even if the scars made the sergeant appear a decade older.

  She had no idea what had happened to the old sergeant.

  Undead had taken First Wall in the two days since she had seen the demigods.

  They had taken all of First Wall.

  The however many kilometers it stretched from one side of the pass to the other.

  “It’s like ants,” Ettyre whispered.

  The pudgy conscript had been whispering that like a mantra. The only thing keeping him from pissing his pants… again.

  Dansy, Bilmyth and the rest of the squad fired single shots through the shooting slit in the wall.

  At least they had been posted to a different spot.

  One far from that huge gaping hole that had been about a dozen meters from their position.

  Zinna shuddered at the thought for the hundredth time since then.

  Death had been close enough to hit with a tossed bullet.

  She aimed down her enchanted iron sights at a rolling mass of flesh as it rolled over the pitted landscape toward Second Wall.

  Control her breathing.

  Steady.

  Steady.

  There!

  The flash of red inside the fleshy flaps and grasping limbs.

  She squeezed the trigger of her long rifle.

  The magic in her rifle fired the bullet out like a cannonball without the unpleasantness of the explosive powder.

  Air broke with a bang as the magic projectile shot through the narrow gap.

  The flesh ball erupted with fire and smoke, raining fleshy bits all over.

  It was a drop in the bucket.

  The carnage was being repeated all across the dead expanse of land between First Wall and Second Wall.

  “Good shot!” the sergeant barked. “Do it again.”

  Zinna reloaded and searched for another flesh ball abomination.

  Apparently, no one had known about the secret to destroying them in one shot until Lady Sela di’Seta had used her superlative spellcasting to discover it. Granted it took a markswoman with an enchanted bullet, but the officers thought that a cheap price to pay to prevent one of those balls from rolling up the side of the wall and spilling the undead inside all over the other side like the world’s worst candy-filled paper cow.

  …

  “Oh Gods! My heart’s still beating so fast!” Dansy gasped.

  Zinna and about half the squad had just finished hitting the showers and were headed to the mess for much needed sustenance.

  There hadn’t been much time during their twelve hour shift in the wall for more than a few hurried and scattered bites of the bland nutrient bar or drinks of the blander than water nutrient drink.

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  Not that eating had been on their minds with all the undead sounds and scents.

  Zinna didn’t care about the magic of it or whatever, but frozen meat shouldn’t smell like meat left out on the street in the City of the Sun all day long.

  Also the moaning.

  It bothered her.

  Especially the ones that sounded like what she’d hear in one of the pleasure houses.

  The thought made her want to shoot and stab a nobleman.

  Of which there were apparently plenty in the Imperial Shield.

  Not that she’d seen one.

  Lady di’Seta was a noblewoman, which made her slightly less evil, so she might not have counted.

  Not that she trusted the lady.

  She’d never trust the nobility or anyone with power over her for that matter.

  “Do you need a calming drink?”

  “No, Zinna. I just need my body to catch up with my brain and realize we’re safe.”

  “For now,” Bilmyth grumbled. “We’re never—”

  “What’d I tell you about talk like that?” Zinna tried to keep the rapier’s thrust out of her voice. The kids didn’t need to get pressure from her. They all got enough of that from their superiors and the undead.

  “Don’t?”

  She gently punched the boy in the arm.

  “Good. We’ve got enough shit dumped on us that we don’t need to add our own shit. This, hitting the showers, getting some real, hot food and sleep, that’s about the only time we can grab some relaxing. So, don’t waste it, yeah?”

  “Yes, Zinna,” Bilmyth said.

  Sadly, she spoke too soon about that relaxing.

  The mess was a large building.

  Akin to a hall.

  She supposed that’s why the sign outside said Mess Hall 2-3.

  Second Wall.

  The third mess hall?

  She didn’t know, nor cared.

  “Oh no…” Dansy’s face fell.

  Conscripts poured out of the mess in a less than relaxed manner.

  Zinna cursed.

  She wasn’t about to miss out on hot food.

  Thus, she pushed against the tide of young conscripts with her squad at her back.

  Inside near the food distribution station near the west wall soldiers surrounded two young women.

  Correction.

  One young woman and a girl.

  The former was a perfect, curvy beauty undiminished by the plain soldier’s clothing she wore. Her midnight black hair fell in thick waves down a little past her shoulders. Her dark brown skin marked her as one of the imperial elite, except her features seemed odd to Zinna.

  It took her a second to realize that this young woman possessed finer features and narrower eyes than what she was accustomed to seeing back in the City of the Sun.

  As for the latter?

  The girl was also a beauty, with the soft, rounded features of childhood late to catch up to the awkward lengthening of her limbs. Slim and wiry, Zinna could see the threat in how the girl carried herself. Like a poised predator ready to pounce. She guessed the girl was around thirteen or fourteen and tall for her age. Dansy and Bilmyth were about a head shorter at similar ages, but they had grown up poor and hungry.

  “Nobility,” Zinna growled.

  The two nobles faced off with angry soldiers.

  Zinna couldn’t hear the words, but the jabbing fingers and spittle flying out of the lead soldier’s mouth was clear enough.

  The nobles probably threw their privileges around and to do so with soldiers coming off a long shit battling the undead?

  Zinna truly hated them.

  “You should intervene.”

  “What? Why? They can handle it.”

  Zinna turned to the speakers.

  They sat at a nearby table.

  The two were the only ones still seated and eating.

  Well, the huge young woman ate.

  The tall, spindly young man fretted.

  “Seven said to keep a low profile if we wanted to eat here.”

  The young man reminded Zinna of those birdwardens she saw warding the fields. Tall, thin and lanky. He was even colored like the wheat. Light pinkish skin and pale golden hair cut short.

  The young woman was huge in every sense of the word.

  Tall, broad-shouldered, well-muscled and yet still physically attractive.

  It occurred to her that their eyes were colored red-gold.

  Yes.

  It made sense now.

  This young woman was probably not even twenty and she was bigger and more imposing that the largest soldiers Zinna had ever seen.

  It struck her to realize that the demigods were her age or younger. It didn’t seem right that a simple mortal conscript was the same age or older than the literal children of her God.

  As for the two facing off with the soldiers?

  “They can handle it. I’m eating.” The huge, young demigod shoveled enough food to fill five soldiers.

  “Yes, but—”

  “Relax. This is relaxing time, remember?”

  “But they might be in danger?”

  “These are low level soldiers. Even Fifteen can brawl with, like, fifty of them and that’s without her using her spells.”

  “What about Sixty-eight. She’s a child.”

  “Ha ha. Funny one. She’s, like, third most dangerous in melee combat in our lochos. First most dangerous in a wild brawl. You know how it is. All the rage and the calculation. She truly has the fighting spirit of the fierce weasel. How about we bet?”

  “No. Betting is statistically a fool’s game. I’ve proved this to you. I told you Nine was a bad influence and he’s our half-brother.”

  “Pfffttt. The Gods do worse stuff with each other. Fine no bets… for money. But, we shall bet for chores. I shall take the over on five and a half noses for Sixty-eight.”

  Zinna didn’t hear the rest of the conversation due to a sudden scream.

  The brawl had erupted.

  She wasn’t about to go hungry, so she took advantage of the chaos to lead her half-squad into the kitchens.

  They absconded with as much hot food and cold drinks they could carry back to their barracks where they could talk about the demigods. Children of their God in the flesh, right in front of them for the second time in the week.

  She didn’t care about getting into trouble for the small stuff.

  Her patron still needed her for something.

  …

  Cal, as Lord Cross, which meant fancy icy undead armor made out of Eternal Ice carved with the death motifs of the Empress of the Frozen Eternities, inspected the prisoners of war alongside General Stormpyre and her shadowy undead bodyguard.

  He truly felt for the conscripts.

  Boys and girls taken against their will to fight and die for the Empire of Man, which cared nothing for their individual sacrifices.

  Just over five thousand.

  Taken when his undead hordes overran First Wall.

  The young prisoners sat unbound beneath frozen trees that blocked out the sunlight.

  It was in these shadows that they beheld their deaths and impending eternal servitude.

  Or they would have under normal apocalypse circumstances.

  “A bloodless taking,” General Stormpyre said.

  Her magic armor was black and blue.

  Fearsomely fitting for the general of the frozen hordes.

  Cal agreed for the most part.

  He determined which soldiers had died.

  Only a few deserved it for the evils they had done.

  Innocents had died as well.

  The impossibility of accounting for every instance of stray spellfire or undead rampaging across the many kilometers of the wall.

  It would only get worse as the Calamity spread.

  He could hide the lack of deaths and the targeted deaths when the golden eyes weren’t watching closely.

  These early stages were like the preliminary fights on a card.

  Suiteonem was the VIP that didn’t arrive in the arena until toward the end of the prelims. He’d spend the time before the main card shaking hands and being pictured. Perhaps, he’d snort a line with other rich scum in the luxury boxes before descending?

  Cal projected that the main card wouldn’t start for Suiteonem until the higher level combatants took the field in earnest.

  That meant after the undead hordes took Second Wall and began to truly threaten the Imperial Shield.

  “The living knew not what they face, Lord Cross.” The revenant general spoke for the benefit of the prisoners.

  The poor kids would’ve long ago wet themselves had Cal not helped them preserve that dignity.

  “As a new servant of our empress did you know that the Shield’s magical protections were so weak?”

  He remained silent as he walked with General Stormpyre.

  “The foolish living believe that they are protected. That we cannot simply reach into their walls to place and take. They have such short memories. Although, I’m being unfair. The last Calamity three centuries ago was fought by blue-skinned humans. These dark and lighter dark-skinned ones were fodder and meat shields. Turned into undead minions like that.” She snapped her fingers, sending a gunshot-like sound into the trees, causing snow to fall on the cowering kids. “I suppose that part hasn’t changed. Your command, my lord?”

  He let the silence linger, nudging their minds toward believing him to be terrifying, yet sincere in the words he was about to speak.

  “Prisoners. Do you hear me? Do you understand me?”

  Oh, they did, even if they were too terrified to do anything except their best impressions of statues.

  “You are prisoners of the empress. You will be taken to a place.”

  Well, places.

  The mountainholds specifically.

  They lacked the physical adaptations to live outside in the frozen valley without a lot of technological aid.

  “There you will remain until the Calamity ends. Resistance will be met with her terrible majesty. Compliance will find you favor. There is a place for the living in her service.”

  With that he sent the silent signal.

  Nila floated through the frozen trees in her living power armor.

  Carlot’s Lamentation was now more pink than black. Her appearance had taken on a very battle princess-ish form.

  The prisoner kids quivered, but obeyed and began to rise at the stern, but gentle— though the kids didn’t realize it— prodding from the Blues that were to escort them all they way south across the valley to the mountainholds.

  The escort was completed by revenants and undead under their complete control.

  The radiant sunguard, Sslamako would provided the extra warmth that heating gems and crystals couldn’t provide against the arctic temperatures of the night.

  They’re so scared. I feel terrible for them, Nila thought.

  They’re about to have the most relaxing and enriching Calamity in the entire history of Calamities.

  That doesn’t make their fear any less real.

  Look at it this way. If this was the usual they’d be dead, if they were lucky. Undead, if they weren’t. And in the empress’ experimentation chambers, if they were really unlucky.

  I’ll get them to safety.

  I know. And don’t worry about the bears.

  ???

  Those demigod kids should keep them occupied.

  Too many child soldiers, Cal!

  It is one of the main reasons I hate the spires. Please be safe. I love you.

  You too, love.

  “Lord Cross?”

  General Stormpyre stood at his side as they watched the prisoners march off into the dark forest.

  He watched Nila floating above them with his physical eyes until he no longer could, then he devoted a part of this thoughts to stay with her just in case.

  “Just thinking, general.”

  “The offensive is proceeding as planned. The difficulty is in avoiding inflicting the full damage we are capable of. Although, much of that is achieved by using our weaker undead forces.”

  “Your thoughts on their elites?”

  “They will remain off the field until we take the Second Wall and the territory between it and the Third wall.”

  Beyond that wall the fortress-city’s defenses split into a honeycomb-like structure of huge districts surrounded by even taller and stouter walls with a mighty fortress at its center. There were fifty of these towns within a city between his undead and the main bastion looming over everything like a mountain in its own right.

  His scans indicated that the internal space of the bastion was almost as much as half the area of the entire Imperial Shield. So many kilometers of space to battle over.

  “Once we threaten that they will begin sending out their elites to hunt for me and other command and control units. It is their standard doctrine to eliminate revenants and the undead that can control the rest. A mindless horde is still dangerous, but infinitely less than one moved by intelligent hands.” She cleared her throat. “I am unconcerned for my safety.”

  “Really?”

  “This era is weaker than the last. My bodyguard,” she indicated the shadowy undead lurking behind her, “is sufficient for most of the emperor’s champions. The rest I can handle myself.”

  “And your command staff?”

  “They’re guardians are no lesser than mine. They are lesser than me, but still capable.”

  “Maybe we can set up a trap. A desperate decapitation strike by the emperor’s finest on the undead horde’s greatest general. Only to brutally fail.”

  “Perhaps, it may succeed.” General Stormpyre grinned. “I am defeated, though the circumstances of my true death remain murky. It would provide great hope for the Imperials.”

  “Only to be cruelly dashed by your re-emergence at a most critical point of the war.”

  “Yes! It would make for great drama and pathos.”

  “Are you enjoying this, general?”

  “I am. Five thousand remain living. That is all. The rest is me allowing myself to enjoy conducting a war. Each one I’ve led under the empress’ banner has not been enjoyable.”

  Cal didn’t agree with the general’s belief that wars were enjoyable endeavors, but she was one of the better revenants from a moral and ethical standpoint so he didn’t gainsay her.

  “Well, you shall have years of this war. At least two battling over this fortress-city and then the march all the way to the cities on the Inner Sea.”

  “And beyond that?” She gazed at him with unblinking eyes.

  “One campaign at a time, general. Let’s focus on the puzzle in front of us for now.”

  The empire did provide him with a useful advantage.

  It was corrupt and slow to mobilize, which meant that the fortress-city wasn’t close to half its capacity.

  There were plenty of empty land and buildings for undead to find their way through, which was why he had to slow play the Imperials.

  He had to give them time to mobilize and send more soldiers.

  Suiteonem, the piece of shit false god, needed a show to be entertained, to be complacent.

  Cal’s pieces were moving into place.

  He remained free from suspicion.

  It would take years, but he would avenge his Boy.

  “I think we’ll fight over Second Wall for a few more weeks. We’ll push to take it just as the next batch of mass soldiers arrive. It should make for dramatic viewing.”

  He glared at the golden eyes atop their tower peaking just above the tallest trees in the distance.