Chapter 38
The three of them made it back without drawing the attention of a single living thing.
The Wood Elves manning the cliffside defenses knew only that three Lords had gone out into the Barren Plains; what they'd done there was neither known nor, frankly, their concern.
The sentries soon returned to their patrols.
Deeper inside the Verdant Forest, the three Lords stopped beneath the trees.
"You're leaving already?" Rowan asked.
"After last night's preparations, and with their offensive broken, the Orcs won't touch the Verdant Forest again anytime soon. There's no reason for me to stay."
"That makes sense. You must have plenty waiting back in your Territory — I won't ask you to stay."
"I'll station one of my commanders at Verdant Spire. One capable of raising undead. The Gargoyles stay too." Lilith looked off toward the south. "If the Orcs move again, send a Wood Elf to request reinforcements."
"Thank you." The gratitude was genuine. Rowan turned to Auriel. "What about you?"
"I intend to hunt more Orcs on my own. I'll station my Angelkin forces at Verdant Spire as well."
Farming Kill Points, clearly. She needed to lock down her top-ten place at minimum — her lead was nowhere near as commanding as Lilith's.
"Then take these." Rowan handed her the remaining supplies from the Seer, food and map included, and Auriel accepted without hesitation.
"I need to focus on reaching Elite Rank," he added, apologetic. "I probably won't be able to come along again for a while." The two of them were fighting for his Clan's sake, and he couldn't immediately fight beside them; the guilt sat on him visibly. Auriel didn't seem bothered. She simply nodded.
One last shared look, and the three parted ways within the Verdant Forest — Lilith back to manage her Territory, Auriel off hunting Kill Points, Rowan to prepare his Elite advancement.
Peace soon settled back over this stretch of the forest. The neighboring Barren Plains were another story entirely. Over there, the chaos was only beginning.
...
First light spread across the Barren Plains, and a thin Orc warrior pushed a handcart of raw meat toward the Howling Tusk Tribe, panting under the load. He came from one of the subordinate settlements; the fresh meat sealed in those hide sacks was tribute, same as always.
The cart rolled through the rough wooden gate, and the guards responsible for receiving supplies gathered around it. A broad-shouldered one opened a sack, inhaled the thick scent of blood, and nodded, satisfied.
"Not bad. Take it inside and divide it among the warriors."
The meat went out through the camp. Hungry Orcs hurried to build fires and roast it — and not one of them sensed the cold, rotten power seeping into their bodies with every bite.
The first symptoms appeared within minutes.
An Orc gnawing on a bone abruptly turned gray; the meat dropped from his hand, and he clutched his throat with a strangled roar as dark veins crawled beneath his skin.
The Orcs around him barely had time to react before several more collapsed at once, bodies convulsing, green fluid spilling from their mouths, eyes reddening and rupturing and slowly clouding over.
The corpse toxin had activated — and Lilith had deliberately throttled its lethality. The infected didn't die outright, and they didn't turn into Zombies either. They simply lay sprawled where they'd fallen, like the living dead, unable to move, giving off an unbearable stench.
At the same moment, screams erupted near the water reserves.
Warriors who'd just finished drinking doubled over in agony as cracks spread across their skin and brilliant golden light shone through the wounds.
Their mouths opened but no scream came out, as though furnaces had ignited inside their bodies.
Then white holy fire burst from eyes, mouths, and open wounds, and the Orcs burned to ash where they stood.
"Enemy attack!"
"Magic!"
The panic spread through the tribe with the sunrise. A guard captain sprinted for the Orc Shaman's tent — and stopped dead before he could deliver a word of his report.
"What... is that?"
A dark mass was moving across the horizon, death energy rolling above it in dense waves that blackened the sky around the advancing force.
He squinted. Skeletons. Walking corpses.
Four-legged monsters. And then he remembered what the Orc Shaman had been shouting when he returned from the failed invasion, and his face drained of all color.
"Undead."
He triggered the highest alarm. Metal warning bells clanged through the Howling Tusk Tribe, and Orcs woke in confusion and scrambled to mount a defense.
Too late. The undead army hit like a bursting dam.
The hastily raised barricades collapsed almost on contact.
Skeletons and Zombies smashed through the wooden palisade while Specters passed through weapons and armor as if neither existed, plunging into Orc bodies and draining the life out of them.
The Ghouls, meanwhile, went straight for the Orcs paralyzed by corpse toxin — pouncing on the helpless and tearing in while they still breathed.
Then the infected began to rise.
Undead magic and the Ghouls' bites finished what the toxin had started. One after another the poisoned Orcs staggered upright, eyes empty, black blood dripping from their mouths, and attacked the nearest living creatures without distinction.
"They're alive!" An Orc swung his battle-ax in terror.
"No — they're monsters!"
His former companion lunged at him with a rotting mouth, and the Howling Tusk Tribe collapsed into slaughtering its own.
Flames leaped between the tents. Screams, snarls, and the clash of weapons filled the camp; blood soaked into the dry earth; undead flooded the pathways as the Orc resistance disintegrated in front of them.
...
Atop the cliffs bordering the Verdant Forest, Wood Elf sentries stared down at the distant inferno.
"What is happening inside the Orc camp?" one young elf managed.
The captain beside him had seen the horror of undead warfare before, and his expression tightened. "Those are undead. The reinforcements our Seer's guests summoned." He watched the chaos below, unease lingering in his eyes. "Terrifying." Then he turned sharply. "Send word to the Seer immediately."
The report ran down the defensive line and reached the settlement soon after. When the Seer, Elowen, and the assembled elders heard it, shock swept across the room.
"A Veteran-ranked Undead Lord did all of that?"
"That is absurd."
"An undead outbreak is every army's nightmare."
The Seer's gaze had gone distant, and a faint smile touched her lips.
"It seems our guest has left us quite a gift."
Lilith had done more than weaken the Howling Tusk Tribe. Among Orcs, weakness was an invitation — the moment one tribe faltered, its rivals began to circle. Soon enough, the Howling Tusk Tribe would have far more to fear from its own kind than from the Wood Elves.
For now, the Verdant Forest was safe.