With the sunset came a changing of the guard and a shift in lighting.

  Men squinted to make out things they had been able to see plainly just minutes before. Most of the able-bodied were looking at their hardtack or canteens, consuming a bit of rations before they settled into their huts to sleep. There was a nervousness about them, as if everyone was thinking about the fact that the situation could deteriorate at any moment.

  The anxiety was delicious.

  This is my opportunity, if I can make the most of it, Baldwin thought, trying not to get too lost in enjoying the fear in the air. In the next quarter of an hour, the sun will be down completely. Strike then…

  “I want two men at each point at all times,” Volusia had said earlier, and Baldwin could now see two of the men on duty before his eyes. The revenant had been moved to a hut where four other bodies were stored, though once he was confident no one was coming back to check on him, he had crawled his way forward so that he was positioned peering through the hut opening.

  Baldwin knew that his location was fairly central, so he could easily guess where the other pairs of men were likely located. The two main entrances of the village. Every other gap between huts, every point of vulnerability, had been blocked off as well as the squad could with physical obstacles they made by hammering together whatever wood was around.

  The men on guard near Baldwin’s location were Sergeant Remus and Private Bastian. The squad’s second most experienced man, after only the Commander himself, and one of its least experienced. It seemed like an intelligent pairing on the surface. The one would compensate for the weaknesses of the other.

  There was just one problem, a moment of vulnerability that Baldwin could sense coming.

  He lay on his side for ten minutes, and then he heard it.

  The Sergeant’s stomach loudly gurgled. It was audible from where Baldwin lay, and he could see Remus’s uncomfortable expression as the sound rumbled through the space.

  “Fuck, this poison or whatever it is…” Remus muttered. He turned to Private Bastian. “I need to go and relieve myself. I’ll be back in five. Maybe ten. Where are those twice-damned shovels?”

  “C-Commander said to stay here for the duration of the shift,” Bastian stammered, visibly nervous at contradicting a superior.

  Sergeant Remus raised an eyebrow. “We’re going to be on shift for hours, Private. I think you can hold your own here for a few minutes. Just keep looking back and forth between there and there.” He pointed at the two opposite entrances to the village, confirming Baldwin’s theory about the location of the other guards—these two were clearly meant to watch the other pairs’ backs. Then Remus lowered his voice. “From one soldier to another, the beastfolk probably aren’t going to attack now. They’ve been smart about it so far, mostly waiting for nightfall for their little raids. It only makes sense they’ll continue to take advantage of their superior night vision and try to hit us while we’re tired. This is probably the last best opportunity we’ll get for bodily functions like this. So I’ll go now, and I want you to go after. Even if you think you can hold it until someone relieves us. Don’t worry, I won’t go far. If you need help somehow, I’ll be in yelling range.”

  “Yes, sir—I mean Sergeant!”

  Remus smiled. “You’re getting better about that, Bastian. Only the Commander is ‘sir’ here, got it?”

  “Yes, Sergeant!”

  “The rest of us work for a living!”

  The two men shared a chuckle.

  “And you can relax a little,” Remus added. “We’re not in a military parade, you don’t need to be that stiff. Stand in a posture that you can maintain for hours. Slightly bent knees, or you’ll cut off blood flow to your lower legs and collapse. Then you’re no good to defend anybody!” He let out another quiet chuckle.

  “Thank you, Sergeant.” Bastian allowed himself a smile too.

  Baldwin sensed the camaraderie between the two men, a feeling he would have shared once, like the warm glow from a fire that was just out of reach. It touched him only enough that he felt the chill inside himself all the more distinctly.

  He found that he resented the feeling. Why should these two live, laugh, and exchange kind words while he was an undead abomination?

  But soon, I’ll fix that for them.

  As the Sergeant turned away, Baldwin loosened his dagger in its sheath. It was time to go to work.

  He waited for Sergeant Remus to walk away and for Private Bastian to have his back turned on the hut Baldwin was in before he made his next move. The revenant rose to a crouch, dagger sliding noiselessly into his left hand.

  He stood to almost his full height, keeping his head below the doorframe’s height.

  Private Bastian stepped in front of the hut, back still turned to Baldwin, and then the revenant lunged forward. He shoved his right hand over the Private’s mouth and then jumped backward, pulling Bastian with him.

  The left hand with the dagger sank it to the hilt in Bastian’s chest, then pulled out. Knife in, knife out. Knife in, knife out. Knife in, knife out, mechanically, until the Private stopped moving.

  It took thirty seconds.

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  “Easy,” Baldwin muttered.

  He slid the dead man off of himself. The coppery scent of blood that now filled the air brought a smile to Baldwin’s face. Then he received another pleasant surprise.

  Got a level up, he thought slightly giddy with the pleasant feeling. This was turning into a great night for him. That’s what that text means, I think. But are there usually that many words? Feels like the system gave me something extra here. I really need Tybalt to teach me how to read… I have to assume it’s something good, but we’ll figure out what later.

  His mind jumped back to the images he’d seen as he grabbed Bastian, just before he leaped back into the hut.

  The surviving guards were looking the other way, I’m almost certain, Baldwin thought regarding the other four guards. They were supposed to be looking for threats from outside the perimeter, after all. Only Remus and Bastian had been positioned so as to watch the other four guards’ backs. That was the logical mode of operation here, and Volusia was unlikely to deviate.

  That resource allocation would make the next phase of the plan possible, as long as he moved quickly.

  Baldwin crawled out of the hut, then continued crawling across the ground, advancing slowly while keeping low, toward the mountain-facing side of the village, away from the desert-facing side. That should increase the odds that Hieron would see the revenant doing his part.

  It took five minutes of crawling to make his way from the rough midpoint of the village, where he had been stored, to the far end. Along the way, he passed the supply cart, which a few obedient soldiers had dragged into the village proper, to protect it from possible beastfolk attack. Baldwin noted its location and continued creeping along the ground.

  The two guardsmen at the mountain end of the village came into view, and Baldwin rose to his feet. They had their backs to him.

  Still placing his feet softly, he drew his dagger again and inched closer to the soldiers until he was within striking distance. Neither man had heard him, he could tell. The revenant had at least a few seconds before one of them would notice his presence at their backs.

  Baldwin tried to time his attack for best effect.

  One of the targets, Private Jeno, hugged his arms to his chest, then raised one hand to stifle a yawn.

  It was at the moment that he closed his eyes.

  Baldwin threw himself forward and sank his dagger into the other man, Private Sivan’s, neck.

  Sivan let out a gurgle as he tumbled to the ground. Jeno turned to see what was happening, opened his mouth wide, and then Baldwin was upon him, tackling him to the ground.

  Sand went everywhere, into both men’s eyes and most importantly into Jeno’s mouth.

  “Hel—urk!” Jeno tried to call for help, but the sand cut him off, and the weight of Baldwin on top of him choked off his air.

  Baldwin clapped a hand over Jeno’s mouth and stabbed downward with the dagger. But Jeno raised his hands to block it. Superior strength and gravity were on Baldwin’s side, but with Jeno using both hands while Baldwin kept one occupied restraining Jeno from speaking, the blade’s descent was agonizingly slow.

  The revenant leaned in close, put his mouth to Jeno’s neck, and bit down hard. After a few seconds of this, he broke the skin. Blood began to fill his mouth.

  Jeno reacted by pulling one hand back to try and claw at Baldwin’s head and neck, but that allowed the dagger to fall more swiftly. Jeno’s remaining hand simply wasn’t strong enough to hold Baldwin back. The blade sank slowly into Jeno’s chest, and then Baldwin dragged it to the side until Jeno stopped resisting.

  The revenant had ignored the hand tearing at his face, though he was aware that bits of skin were hanging loose on his cheek. He could simply disengage from the pain of being attacked, as he had ignored the sand in his eyes. Benefits of being undead.

  He slowly brushed the sand from his eyes, attempting to be careful and not damage the delicate membranes that preserved his sight. As he did that, he heard the sound of footsteps approaching.

  Baldwin raised his head slightly to place the source of the noise inside his field of view. He let out a little sigh.

  “Just you.”

  “Nicely done, big guy,” Hieron pronounced in his eerie, childish voice, smiling down at Baldwin with his unnaturally still face, his eyes unblinking, his grin a mockery of the human capacity for joy.

  “Were you and your friends there going to come and help me?” Baldwin grumbled.

  Hieron was flanked by four zombies, two miners and two soldiers. All but one of these specimens was someone Baldwin had killed himself.

  Tybalt said he was pulling the rest back, Baldwin thought. It’s a pity. Maybe we could have overwhelmed the camp if he’d sent everything. Then again, maybe Tybalt would have lost his entire force of undead and had the existence of a necromancer exposed at the same time. Difficult choice to take that risk, I guess.

  “You seemed to have it under control, but the possibility of helping was why we approached when we did,” Hieron said.

  Baldwin felt that the little brat might be lying, but he also didn’t really care.

  “Take this,” the revenant said. He pulled the Private’s dagger from its sheath and extended it to Hieron.

  “Thank you,” Hieron said as he took the weapon. He held it like a foreign object—which Baldwin supposed it was—raising and lowering it, turning it and looking at it from different angles, and finally pantomiming stabbing and slashing motions.

  On second thought, I don’t think we could take the camp out with this kid and a bunch of clumsy zombies and skeletons. It only takes one person to wake up while we’re killing them to alert the whole camp. I got lucky that I was placed where I was, but I doubt that luck would hold for many more kills.

  “Do you need any other help?” Baldwin asked. “There are two more guards back at the other far end of this path, and a third man out taking a crap somewhere a little ways outside the village. If you don’t need my help here, I’m going to kill the one taking the dump before he gets back and raises the alarm. Then I’ll finish my job and get out of here.”

  “You’re not… staying?” Hieron asked in a tone of uncertainty.

  “The master has a different job for me,” Baldwin replied. “Collecting bodies… and other essentials. The sick are in those huts over there.” He pointed. “Need anything else?”

  “Nah. I’ll be fine…”

  The uncertainty seemed to have gone out of the fext’s voice this time. He stared at the dagger blade and seemed pleased with the way it gleamed slightly with the reflection of nearby firelight.

  Good luck, Hieron, Baldwin thought. You’re going to need it.