Winter and cold had arrived early in the highest parts of the mountains.

  The journey through the steep pass wasn’t as terrible as Vincent had imagined, even though it was so narrow the yetis had to move in single file.

  The stags and other bone mounts dug their hooves into the snow and pulled themselves free of the white blanket without trouble, thanks to their undead strength. They had no muscles to tire or stiffen, either. On top of that, Ronan had done something to their hooves—a sort of spiked relief—so they wouldn’t slip on the ice. During those couple of hours Vincent had been sleeping, his friend had stayed busy.

  It took them a while to arrive, since they weren’t moving at high speed like they did through the forest, but there were no accidents along the way.

  When the path began to widen slightly, the bulk of the troops came to a halt.

  “We are almost there. I do not want them to notice the vibrations in the ground. You are all staying here except for the orcs, who will accompany Vincent and me. When I give the order, you will all advance, stomping hard. You will strike fear into our enemies’ hearts with the mere threat of your presence. The birds that are not ahead as lookouts will follow Myrthaxya.”

  Only Ronan and Vincent continued forward, along with the seven undead orcs, all riding their skeleton stag mounts.

  When they were closer but still far from the visual range of the sentries guarding the gates, they stopped. Ronan looked at Vincent and pointed ahead.

  It was still dark, and the moon offered little light, but by now they were used to the lack of illumination. That's why, thanks to the torches lighting it, they could make out the orc village clearly enough.

  It stood at the highest point of the pass, wedged between steep rock walls that vanished into the night. Snow covered the ground unevenly, piling up on ledges, roofs, and paths. The structures were large and crude, built from dark wood and rough stone blocks. One of them—the most imposing—used the bones of some enormous creature as beams, jutting out from the front and sides. Many buildings were partially carved into the rock, using the slopes for protection against the cutting northern wind. The roofs, slanted and reinforced with logs, supported thick layers of snow and ice.

  A palisade sealed off the space between the two mountain walls, blocking access to the settlement. It was made of sharpened logs reinforced with rusted metal plates. The gate was shut. On either side stood a watchtower, sentries undoubtedly posted atop them. Large braziers burned at the towers’ peaks, their dark smoke rising in columns that stood out starkly against the white landscape.

  The path widened abruptly by several dozen meters. It didn’t look artificial, more like a natural opening in the mountains that the orcs had taken advantage of to build their settlement.

  The air smelled of smoke from the braziers, mixed with the clean bite of mountain cold, but also of animals and food, as if there were breeding pens inside the palisade and, despite the early hour, someone was already awake preparing breakfast.

  “Let’s go,” Ronan indicated.

  “I’m with you,” Vincent replied.

  The undead didn’t answer; not with voices, at least. They simply followed their master.

  They advanced together, Ronan slightly ahead, Vincent at his side, and the zombies flanking them.

  As they drew closer, sounds reached them: growls, rough laughter, the crash of something heavy perhaps being slammed against the ground. Then a clear voice called out to them.

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  “Halt. Brok, is that you? We’d given you up for dead.”

  “That’s because we are dead,” the addressed orc replied as his mount stopped, his voice deep, heavy, and slightly slurred.

  Vincent resisted the urge to stare at him in shock. He hadn’t known Ronan’s zombies could talk.

  The sentry, aided by both his elevated position and sharp eyesight, was able to make out the faces of the scouts they’d sent out days earlier.

  “Don’t joke around. And what are you riding?”

  Ronan guided his skeleton stag a few steps forward, separating himself from the others.

  “These orcs no longer belong to your troops but to mine. They invaded the former territory of the giant bear, now my lady’s. They fought, lost, died, and are now in my lady’s service.”

  “They’re zombies? I don’t see any wounds on their bodies.”

  “They are zombies, and the mounts are bone stags. We have come in response to your attack on the human village of Clearhaven. The soldiers you sent there are also dead.”

  The sentry seemed to hesitate. First, he glanced beyond them, as if expecting the orc soldiers to appear. Then he turned to his companion. Ronan couldn’t make the second sentry out clearly with his own eyes, but he saw him through the mental images sent by one of his birds of prey. They’d flown close to the settlement, which was how he knew there were two sentries per tower.

  Additionally, the village was large, more than thirty buildings. From what he’d observed during the day, when it bustled with activity, there were likely over two hundred enemy warriors inside.

  “My lady is generous and offers you the option to join her settlement, Convergence.”

  “Option? Of course we’re not joining!”

  Before he could call his people to arms against the nine figures standing on the path, the ground began to shake.

  Something was approaching.

  Heavy footsteps thundered forward, joined by lighter but far more numerous ones. A reddish glow appeared on the horizon. The sentries turned toward the path. Dozens of goblins rode wolves and bone wolves. Giant ants scuttled forward. Trolls advanced, gripping enormous clubs. And there were creatures the orcs had never seen before, but their white fur and massive size made it obvious: yetis, the true lords of the snowy mountains.

  Before they could react, the sun crested the horizon—a red circle that briefly blinded them—and silhouetted against it was a skeleton dragon in flight.

  Through his two birds’ eyes, Ronan watched the orcs drop their bows and spears, stunned.

  He waited until his army caught up and halted behind him. Myrthaxya hovered menacingly overhead, the other birds flanking her.

  Then Ronan spoke.

  “You are mistaken, orcs. The option I am giving you is not whether you join us. It is whether you do so alive or dead.”

  Vincent, standing a few steps behind the necromancer, felt like applauding.

  Since it was a couple of humans and goblins fighting monsters, the gods wouldn’t oppose the battle. Still, Ronan’s method of conquest was brutal. Vincent had seen that dragon tear a yeti boss’s head off with a single bite. He had no doubt the necromancer possessed the forces needed to massacre the orcs and raise them afterward.

  The orc sentries finally shook themselves out of their fear and sent for their leader. He didn’t take long to appear and, from one of the towers, answered them in person.

  “We’ll join. May we know the name of our new lord?”

  “Lady. And you will come in person to swear vassalage to her.”

  At the mention of the oath, the prince felt his heart begin to race. It was for Bianca. Once again, he reaffirmed the thought that his betrothed could become the future human empress, the one who might save them all in case of a war against a demon king.

  With priests forbidden, there were no longer oracles delivering prophecies. There was no sign of such an enemy’s arrival, save for the words spoken over dinner: the warning from the divine beast of light.

  The settlement’s heavy gates opened with a long, grinding creak, pulling Vincent from his thoughts.

  Beyond them, the orc soldiers lay prostrate, heads pressed to the ground, weapons placed at their feet. The trolls moved forward to collect them, which were mostly axes and swords. The orc leader descended from the watchtower and bowed before Ronan, offering his sword with both hands.

  The doors of nearby buildings remained shut. Through the hides serving as curtains in the windows, some eyes could be seen watching the scene with fear.

  Ronan accepted the sword.

  “Who remains in the dwellings?” he asked.

  “Elders, small children, and some women to care for them.”

  Vincent, recalling the female orc warriors he’d seen among the corpses in Clearhaven, nodded to himself.

  “Once you have sworn vassalage in everyone’s name, they will have nothing to fear.”

  The prince noticed a pair of eyes fixed on one of the orc scouts Ronan had raised. He imagined they might be from his immediate family. He hoped they wouldn’t ask Ronan to raise the bodies left behind in Clearhaven.

  Mituindal, Kay, Trevor Ramsey, Slipperyfish, Skisquirrel, Paul, HeirenFel, OakieTheTree, AbyssalChaos, Jasmine, Nicholas Mccalister, Just Dave, Kail, Aaron Stewart, and Kerri Knorr: Huge thanks for your support on Patreon! <3