Lord Lantal Afiele remembered the old stories. The Tomb of Afiele had been sealed thousands of years ago. For what reason even his family’s stories didn’t say, only that the dead and living should not mingle.

But they had passed down knowledge from his father to him. That in the most dire of times, he might break the seal himself and call on Afiele for aid.

That day had never come. Instead, the Tomb of Afiele had brought death upon the land it had been meant to protect.

He stood in the streets, watching the giant made of flesh approaching. It was crudely made. But it had to be at least forty feet tall. It could step over the walls. Or break them, easily.

“Remember the plan. Axes. Take down one leg and we can slow it. Even kill it if we reach the head.”

Zombies died when you destroyed their head. Lantal prayed this one operated on the same logic. He saw the teams of fighters, armed with wood cutting axes and the heaviest weapons they had, nodding.

Idelt stood with Meltain and the Thronebearers—a quarter of them. The rest had gone with Princess Seraphel and Duchess Grishen. They were planning to cut their way north, towards her lands.

It might be necessary even if they felled the giant. But—Lantal shuddered at the thought of fighting, fleeing the undead even with wagons or horses. It would be a slaughter.

They had to stop it. He tightened his grip on his enchanted longsword, which would be as useful as an axe. Lantal wished—he had had a moment to say something to Risel, or Culin and Sasi, who were with her. They would be safe. But he wished—

“It’s coming. Brace! Get off the walls!”

Meltain shouted, bringing Lantal back into the world. He saw a shape, as tall as the sky in the darkness.

A vast, misshapen face.

He should have killed that [Necromancer]. The [Lord] shouted.

“Flee the walls!”

The Humans ran. The undead, stirred into quicker motion by something—their master, hidden among the darkness—climbed higher.

The dead came over the walls as the light fled. The giant swung an arm, and the wooden wall cracked.

The Humans looked up and fled the crushing fists. No arrow or spell could kill it.

But the axes. Lantal waited. He saw the wall deform and shapes pour over the walls. He heard screams, the sounds of fighting from the side streets. Some of the undead came towards him.

“Shields and spears—hold them back. Axe teams. Wait. Wait.”

Lantal’s voice cracked with nerves. He felt another blow that shook his town. And it tore open the walls.

The undead poured down the street. But there—faster, faster! Lantal heard cries of fear as leaping Ghouls and undead poured at the narrow line of defenders.

“Walk, you damned thing!”