Venick’s knife couldn’t help him. He knew that now. Yet he squeezed it in his fist like a lifeline as his attacker made a noise, a rattling hiss that turned Venick’s insides to jelly. The figure took another step forward, and for the first time, Venick caught a real glimpse of its face, the hollows where cheeks should have been, the blank white eyes.
Venick’s heart was wild. His breath raked up his throat.
He hefted his foot andkicked.
His heel connected with the creature’s chest, sent it flying into the wall of the tent. The canvas collapsed over both of them, and for a moment, Venick’s panic sealed over. His senses scrambled. He thrashed, cutting frantically at the fabric, ripping free into the frigid night air, desperate to put as much distance as he could between himself and thatthing.
The commotion was finally waking nearby soldiers. Several men jogged over to see what the trouble was. Their faces were confused and sleep-heavy, their mouths a collective murmur ofCommander?They hadn’t yet seen what Venick had. Didn’t yet know what Venick knew.
Behind them, the creature was struggling to free its legs from the tangles of the fallen tent, to much less effect. Illuminated by torchlight, Venick could tell that the elf had been, once and recently, alive. Its skin was supple, muscles well defined. Only its face seemed to show the thing for what it was. Venick saw better now the sightless eyes, the unhinged jaw, spidery blue veins crisscrossing over cheeks and brow.
The soldiers saw it, too.
There was a buzz of alarm, a call for an axe to behead the demon. A wasted effort. Venick knew they could cut off every one of the creature’s limbs, and its head as well, and still, it would keep fighting. Ellina had been clear on this point—there was only one element that could stop the undead.
“A torch,” Venick told the nearest soldier. His voice came out hoarse. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Bring me a torch.”
The item was procured and set in Venick’s hand. Venick touched the flame to the canvas, stepping back as fire quickly devoured the tent and the undead assassin along with it.
Now came the writhing.
The creature flailed, working its mouth as if to scream. Smoke gathered thickly, pulsing into the night sky. By the time it was done, most of the camp was awake and at the scene. Elves and men formed a loose circle around the charred remains of the now-dead-again undead, some looking stunned, others brandishing weapons.
“Commander.”
Venick turned to see the elven ranger Lin Lill approaching from between the orderly rings of tents. Her eyes were pale coins in the night, her stride long and even. Unlike most of the soldiers, she was dressed in full elven armor, gauntlets and greaves and boots and shield—a warrior ready for battle.
It was this thought that made Venick say, mildly, “You missed the fight.”
“We were tricked.” Lin Lill looked like she would rather cut those words into her skin than admit them aloud. She peeled back her lips, a growl and a grimace both. “We received word of suspicious activity. Branton and I went to investigate. Artis was supposed to stay behind on guard, but we were gone too long. He grew worried and came to find us. I should have sent him back to you immediately. That was my mistake, a breach of duty, and I take full—”
“Lin, stop. I’m fine.”
“You were attacked.”
Venick glanced at the smoking heap. “I managed alright.”
Lin Lill’s brow creased, her skin pulling at the scar that cut across one cheek. She had taken charge of Venick’s personal guard, naming herself his first and Branton and Artis his seconds. Though Venick had resisted the idea—he might be Commander now, but that didn’t mean he needed special treatment—Lin Lill had insisted. When Venick tried to veto the idea by pulling rank, she’d brushed him off like he was bothering her. And she’d saddled him with a personal guard anyway.
This would have been a good moment for Lin to dig in with anI told you so,but instead, she merely said, “The report was valid. We confronted a southern conjuror at the east end of camp.”
“A conjuror?” Venick’s pulse changed. “Male or—?”
“Female. When we arrived, it looked like she was wielding magic. Her hands were moving, her eyes were closed, but we could not figure out what she was doing.”
Their gazes both slid back to the undead.
Venick said, “I might have a guess.”
“She was corpse-bending,” Lin Lill agreed. Then, without a change in tone: “I am going to kill Artis.”
“You will not.”
“Then I am going to kill all ofyou,” she announced, glaring at the nearby soldiers. “How could you let an undead simply wander into camp? Did no one notice a dead soldier stepping into the Commander’s tent? We might as well have invited it in ourselves, offered it some tea while we were at—”
“Lin.” Venick knew how it felt to be on the receiving end of Lin Lill’s insults. He stopped her before she could do any real damage. “What happened to the corpse-bender?”
Lin Lill’s mouth flattened into a line. “She escaped.”
