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then, Sergeant, you can have a military hearing.  Always assuming that is, that there are not then more pressing matters demanding our attention.  For now, I’d like to know what the appearance of these creatures means.” She turned to Thom.  “You know something of the enemies’ methods Thom, what should we make of these creatures? They are the same kind you used to shepherd in Maelgrum’s service?”
    “Yes, your Majesty, they are that but that begs the question. Where are the shepherds this time?”
    “I’m looking at one,” Tordil dourly observed.
    “As the Seneschal kindly pointed out, my shepherding in this instance is limited to brushing zombie remains off my clothes and out of my hair.  Whatever wizardly shepherds raised and drove these creatures they have been poor wardens of their flock.”
    “There could be wizards out there in the night watching us, having driven the undead to attack us here?” Jolander gave the invisible horizon a speculative scrutiny. 
    Thom shook his head.  “These were not driven by anything but hunger and vestigial memory.”
    “Memory? I thought they ha d no mind or will?” Tordil said.
    “In faith the Goddess’s blessing has destroyed all the evidence but before my lady Niarmit turned them to dust I saw enough to know.  These were some of the refugees from that caravan, raised as walking corpses, and from the wounds upon them they were themselves slain by zombies, bitten and clawed to death.”
    “It was zombies that attacked the caravan? And then the dead walked away as zombies?” Jolander struggled with the image.
    “Yes, except these ones stumbled back hungry to the site of their death.”
    “There were no more than fifty here, but there were a thousand at least in the caravan,” Quintala said.
    “Then there are nine hundred and fifty corpses added to whatever dire force it was that overran the caravan in the first place.”
    “By the Goddess an army that creates its own re-enforcements from the bodies of its victims. What blasphemy!”  The Sergeant shook his head like a wet dog.
    “Where is this army?” Niarmit asked.
    Thom thought for a moment. “The caravan was over-run at night.  The likeliest time would be the night before last.  These creatures escaped control and staggered back to get here tonight.  Whatever force it is must be but a day away, ahead of us, since we have not passed them yet, and travelling slowly.” He frowned, thinking back to the long marches he had made in Marwella’s service.  “The undead are not easy to direct, and the fact that such a large group have got free of the necromancers’ control suggests they are struggling to keep a reign on their flock.” 
    “How could an undead force from the horde at Sturmcairn get ahead of us so quickly and un-noticed?”  Tordil asked.
    “It couldn’t.”
    “So that means….”  The elf captain began to assemble the pieces.
    “This is a different force , a new foe coming up from the South, from Undersalve.”  Niarmit beat him to it.
    “They’d be heading into the underbelly of Rugan’s domain,” Thom added.
    The priestess sucked in a contemplative breath, before addressing Quintala.  “We must ride hard to warn your brother, Seneschal. We can get a few hours rest, but we break camp at midnight.”
     

***
    The council of war had all but finished when the orc unwisely spoke up.  “Why we wait when half breed coward skulks in hills?”  He stood up and slammed his fist against his shoulder for emphasis. “Chief Nagbadesh and Redfang tribe flush him out, teach him and his human slaves what orcish steel can do.  I let Rugan read my name written with his entrails, if half-elf scum have enough guts for it.”  He hur-hurred at his boastful orcish wit and glanced around the table for an echo of approval from the assembled captains.  None came.
    O destus surveyed the silent assembly from his position at the foot of the table.  The evening torches guttered and