Paul’s POV

  The night was quiet as Paul walked around raising the dead from the fallen enemy. He was surprised that he only lost a handful of mindless undead. Most of the enemies’ goblins were killed in the arrow volley during the initial attack. A smirk made its way onto his face as he watched the horror on their faces as their dead rose again.

  Liora gathered her new wraithlings together in front of the captive goblins. A total of 73 had been killed and 119 had surrendered. The elven wraith strode with purpose in front of her newest wraiths.

  “What are your names?” she asked.

  “I am Grum,” the biggest one said, his name meant “dirt” in goblin. “This is Gruul.” He pointed a hand at the female, her name meant “worm”.

  A small thin one looked up next, “I am Zrek, and this is Drok.” Their names meant “bug” and “rock”.

  Rock nodded as his name was spoken.

  Paul couldn’t see Liora’s face, but he knew she had a look of disgust at the names.

  “Kneel.” She commanded after a moment.

  The goblin wraiths knelt on the blood-soaked ground, their shadows quivering at her feet. “Dirt. Worm. Bug. Rock.” Liora’s lips curled faintly. “Such names offend the tongue. You are my creations now, not beasts clawing through mud.”

  She traced runes in the air, each stroke burning silver in the dark. “You will answer to Seren, Vael, Kith, and Tharn. Forget the sounds of your former lives; they are unworthy of what you are becoming.”

  Durnakh snorted. “Names don’t make warriors, elf.”

  “No,” she said, her eyes gleaming like cut glass. “But they make soldiers.”

  Paul’s gaze lingered on her, weighing the words. Power reshaped everything it touched, even names, and Liora was learning to reshape it ruthlessly. He wondered for a moment if her desire to reshape them with new names would work. His eyes lingered on the big one, who looked slightly different than the others. Instead of a dark violet with blackish flames for eyes, he had a shimmer of green about him.

  As Paul was about to ask Liora about him the feralean woke up and started yelping. “I’ll kill you all.” She growled.

  She struggled against her bonds furiously straining against the ropes with all her might.

  “You need to calm yourself beast.” Paul said.

  “I am no beast vampire!” She growled. “I’ll die before joining you.”

  “You’ll join me whether you live or die,” Paul said, waving a hand towards his army of the dead. “The Valgul can make use of both the living and the dead.”

  With a look of frantic worry, she looked around at the mass of undead soldiers. Her eyes rested on the wraiths, then she looked down.

  “It seems only some of your reputation precedes us.” Rikkard said as he examined the feralean. “Strange you’d think a necromancer would imply the dead rise again.”

  “Will you eat us?” Paul heard a goblin female ask from the gathering of goblins.

  The vampire lord looked over them all for a long moment, pausing long enough for fear to settle in. “Some.” He said finally. “Others will serve in other ways.”

  With mental orders, the skeletons of their fallen brothers and sisters gathered behind him. “But know this, you will all serve. No matter what. You may be fed from, you may fight, or you may work in other ways, but you will serve.” A long silence washed over them again. “You needn’t fear wanton and needless slaughter though. Ask all who serve, I can be merciful as it is, and I ask little.”

  Paul waved a hand at all his living soldiers and lieutenants. “Here is a testament to your future.” He looked back at the crowd, “Choose.”

  Stolen story; please report.

  With that none of the goblins gathered and the feralean remained quiet for a moment. Her ears flattened against her head as she closed her eyes and tried to steady her breathing.

  “The village with all their supplies is close.” Durnakh said. “The valgul have earned the right of plunder.”

  Durnakh’s insistence on plunder irritated Paul. The hobgoblin dressed his hunger with bluster, predictable, appeasable. Useful. Annoying. A creature grown up among savages, eager for easy victories.

  “Go, take the men and spend the rest of the night looting.” Paul said finally.

  With a grin and laugh, Durnakh turned to his men, “Let’s go boys, the village is that way.”

  For a moment Rikkard just watched as the younger hobgoblin and his men ran off, until Paul nodded his head.

  “Garrik, take the men to the village to plunder it.” Rikkard said to his second.

  “Not going to join the fun?” Paul asked as Garrik and the rest of his troops took off after Durnakh’s.

  “I’ll take mine when it comes.” Rikkard said. “Shit goblin villages bled dry have nothing to offer.”

  Turning from Rikkard, Paul watched the hobgoblins vanish into the tree line, their laughter fading into the night. The field was still, save for the soft shuffle of skeletons gathering the fallen. He turned back towards the feralean. She knelt about 90 feet from him in the mud, she intently watched the undead as they patrolled the edge of the battlefield and kept watch over the captives.

  Her nose scrunched as she sniffed at a couple as they passed. Paul couldn’t tell if she was confused or disgusted, her lupine features seemed somewhat alien to him. The feralean looked ready to bite at the zombies holding her.

  Before she could start a new fight, Paul made his way over to the wolf-kin. “Speak.” He commanded as he got close, Rikkard not far behind.

  “I will never serve you.” She said, but her voice was hoarse and weak; defiance giving way to exhausted pride.

  “You already serve me. The question is how.” Paul said plainly.

  She looked up at him quickly and flattened her ears, but tried to show her teeth, but it was a weak attempt.

  “Why did you lead this group of goblins?” Paul asked.

  “My pack was hunted by the riders north of the forest. I fled here and found these goblins. They fed me.”

  So, Rikkard wasn’t wrong about their kind, Paul noted, not bothering to see the hobgoblin’s reaction to the feralean’s response.

  “Are there more of you?”

  “Somewhere, I’m sure.”

  Paul knelt close to her face. He wasn’t afraid of her; he had seen her speed on the battlefield and knew she was no match for him. “And what do you seek?” Paul gripped her muzzle, forcing her to look into his eyes.

  She growled low but made no other move to show discomfort. Her Large icy-grey eyes had slits that focused on his eyes.

  “Food and safety was all I ever wanted.” Then she tried to look down, but Paul wouldn’t let her.

  “So, you come to the war-torn savage goblin lands?” Paul tilted his head a little.

  “The world is a war for the feralean and beast-kin as a whole.” She said. “At least goblin are easy to intimidate.”

  Moving even closer, Paul practically whispered, “I can give you food and safety.” He let go of her muzzle, but she continued to watch him. “All it takes is service. Serve me in this life and I will give you what you need.” He stood and swept a hand around. “Look!” He looked towards the goblin captives. “What life is this?

  “There is no unity. There is no safety. There is only chaos and death, but when death comes, I can make it again, again, and again, and eventually there will be no more need to worry or sacrifice. There will no longer be us and them. Only us.”

  Paul looked at her and noticed a look of awe in her eyes for a moment. Then she looked away.

  “All will serve me, in this life or the next. Come with me, be my tracker and scout, or death becomes you and you will rise again and serve none-the-less.”

  The feralean looked back up. “Yes. I will serve.”

  “Tonight is a night of rebranding a new names. I shall call you Selun, the night sky. A fitting name from the old tongue.” Paul smiled.

  “Selun.” He heard the feralean whisper to herself, tasting the new name. Then slowly she nodded, “Yes.”

  “Rise Selun and take you place among the valgul.” Paul had the undead untie her.

  With that, she rose but didn’t quite look at him. It made no difference. At least for now, he had her service. Her loyalty would come.

  Turning to go find Liora, Paul began walking as Rikkard spoke.

  “Didn’t know you had inspirational speeches in your arsenal.” He said.

  “I can be what I need to be.” Paul responded.

  Liora was speaking softly to her newest wraiths while Thunderroar and Grandler waited silently behind her. The largest goblin still a hint of green in his eyes.

  “Liora.” Paul called.

  She left the small group to come speak to him. “Yes, Paul?”

  “Why does that one have green in its eyes? Is that a normal deviancy?” He watched the large goblin wraith intently. It just looked back steadily.

  “When I was turning him, I could feel he was connected to the earth source. He has a natural earth tether.” Liora looked back at him. “His name is Seren.”

  “Did he keep his tether?” Paul asked.

  “I believe so.”

  “Why didn’t you?” Paul looked at her, gauging her response.

  “I think when Alaric made me, I had been dead for some time. My summoning was unusual. Seren was made by me while he lived so he must have kept his tether intact.” The elven wraith looked back into his eyes, as if searching for what he was searching for.

  “Keep them sharp, then.” Paul said.

  Smiling faintly, Liora chuckled, “Of course.”

  “The sun will rise soon.” Paul looked up at the sky, in the distance he could see a little color. “The living can raid and plunder the village for the day. We will stay here long enough to recoup before moving back south.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Rikkard and Liora said, before Paul left to find a place to rest in isolation.