“You’re a stupid whore.”

“There goes the mask of civility. Roland had only two Warlords, but you are the twenty-third Legatus of the Golden Legion. Do you know why? It’s because Hugh is beloved by his soldiers, while you are reviled by the Masters of the Dead. Every man under his command would die for him, while the people who serve you can’t wait to stick a knife in your back.”

“I’ll make sure it takes you weeks to die.”

“Hugh is a better general, a better fighter, and a better man. You’re second best. You will always be second best. You’re replaceable. One day one of your helpers will kill you and take your place, and Roland won’t blink an eye, while Hugh is one of a kind. Oh and his dick is bigger than yours.”

A disconnect signal cut off the call.

Lamar clapped and bowed.

She dropped the phone back into its place and turned back to the wall. There were too many people between her and the tower for magic, so she hurried on foot, across the bailey, up the stairs, back to the top of the flanking tower, where Hugh waited. The entire clearing before the tree line was filled with undead.

“How did it go?” Hugh asked.

“He’s frothing at the mouth.”

“That’s my girl.” He grinned at her.

The last of the stragglers made it through the gates. The Iron Dogs had followed, and the massive drawbridge rose up, blocking the entrance.

A clump of vampires shot out from the main mass of the undead and fell apart, revealing two people tied to crosses, naked from the waist up. The one on the left, a woman, wore the black shreds of an Iron Dog uniform. The one on the right slumped over, his gray curly hair stained with blood.

Oscar.

Oh no.

Elara really pissed Nez off.

Usually Nez would have held back the hostages, waiting to see if he could use them as bargaining chips at the right moment, but instead he dragged them out into plain view, blinded by the need to hit back. Whatever she said to him, he wanted to punish her for it.

The lone Iron Dog on the cross glared at the vampires. Irina. She’d been out by the southern edge of the town, scouting to the rear. That meant the digging crew likely grabbed her. Nez would be digging in from the southwest.

Fury boiled inside Hugh. He hated to lose Irina, hated that her life was over, hated that Nez was the one who took it. If only he could get his hands on that bastard. Hugh stared at the woods behind the undead. Nez was out there somewhere, sipping coffee in his Matador.

None of the front scouting team had made it either. He saw the scouts from the East and West teams, but none from the North. That meant none survived.

Next to him Elara had gone completely still. Her eyes narrowed, measuring the distance between her and the old man on the cross. She was thinking of rushing the field. He put his hand on her shoulder, anchoring her in place.

“No.”

She ignored him.

“Elara!”

She turned to look at him, and cold shot through him. Her eyes were pure white.

“Too many and too far,” he told her.

“I know,” she ground out.

Savannah’s voice cut through the noise of the bailey behind them. “To the wall! Come to the wall!”

All around them the villagers streamed to the wall, climbing up the stairs. Men, women, parents lifting small children on their shoulders, they lined up as if for a parade, watching the two people on the crosses. Those who didn’t fit ran into the keep and filed out onto the curtain wall and balconies. More still waited in the bailey.

“Don’t look away,” Savannah called out.

“You must witness and remember,” Dugas yelled from the other side.

The Departed held still and silent. The hair on the back of Hugh’s neck rose. There was something unnatural in the way they stared, passing judgment on the undead below.

The vampire sitting by the older man jumped up. Sickle claws flashed and ripped him from breastbone to waist. Entrails spilled out, hanging from his body in grotesque garlands. The man screamed, a short guttural sound. Elara didn’t move a muscle.

No sound came from the wall. They looked on just as she did, bearing silent witness.

“Do not look away,” Savannah said into the silence.

“Watch and remember,” Dugas echoed.

The old man screamed and screamed.

A second vampire tore the stomach of the Iron Dog, spilling her innards. Irina howled. It was the long ululating howl the Iron Dogs made when they rode in battle. A chorus of howls answered from inside the castle, the Dogs acknowledging their own.

Hugh turned, finding Yvonne on top of the west gate tower. Their stares connected.

The archery commander whipped back. Two crossbow bolts ripped the air, glowing with magic. The first took Oscar in the throat. The second sank into the Iron Dog’s chest. The sorcerous bolts buzzed and exploded. Two people next to Yvonne lowered their crossbows. One of them, slight and short, glanced at him, and Hugh recognized Alex Tong.

The wall stayed silent.

“His name is Landon Nez,” Elara said, her voice snaking through the crowd.

A chant rose from the villagers.

“Landon Nez.”

“Landon Nez.”

Emotion poured out of a thousand throats, indignation and anger melded into a furious mix. Even the children chanted. Hugh saw Stoyan on another tower, looking around wild-eyed.

“We are one,” Elara whispered next to him. “We are the Departed.”

He felt something rise from the collective chant, something vicious and furious and unimaginably ancient.

“Landon Nez.”

A shimmer gathered above the crowd as if the air along the wall had suddenly grown hot. The edge of it brushed him. Ghostly howls echoed in his head and broke into a primitive, savage snarl. He jerked back on instinct.

“LANDON NEZ.”

The invisible thing tore free of the wall and hurled itself at the tree line. Trees jerked, as if grasped by an invisible hand. Birds shot out of the woods, screeching. Something thudded, metal whined, and a siren blared. He recognized the sound – it belonged to the People’s Armored Troop Transports.

Next to him Elara stood, her teeth clenched.

Okay. First things first. He would win this battle and then he would figure out what the hell she was and what he had gotten himself and his people into.

“Did you get him?” he asked.

“No,” she said, her expression hard. “But we rattled his cage.”

On the field below, vampires became utterly still. Standard protocol as the navigators waited for orders. They only had a few minutes before Nez shook the surprise off.

A charge was coming.

“Everyone not in uniform off the wall!” Hugh roared.

The blast of sound took her by surprise and Elara jerked. The villagers scattered, running down the stairs.

“You know where to be!” Elara called out. “To your places!”

In the bailey Savannah and Dugas herded people into the buildings.

Next to Hugh, Sam put his mouth to the horn and blew a high-pitched note. The Iron Dogs took up positions on the wall, fighting against the current of her people.

“Artillery, fire at will,” Hugh ordered.

Sam blew a new note, a harsh war call. The ballistae creaked, the strings of the massive bows twanged, and sorcerous bolts shrieked, tearing the air. A couple of undead jerked, suddenly impaled. Most had dodged, but the emerald green bolt heads exploded with magic, throwing dirt, rocks, and gaunt bodies.

The vampire wave gathered in the clearing before the trees crested and surged toward Baile. Fear pierced the back of Elara’s neck.

There were more than fifty. There had to be.

One of the Iron Dogs on top of the gate tower spun around. Hanzi covered her face, drawn in blue ink. She twisted, flexible and fluid like water, and came to rest on one foot, all her weight on her bent back leg, her right leg bent in front of her at an angle, toes barely touching the ground. Her right arm stretched to the sky, hand horizontal as if she was trying to press it against the clouds. Her left arm, bent at the elbow, guarded her chest.

The massive catapult on top of the keep whined. A rock the size of a small car streaked over their heads. The undead scattered, making a hole in their ranks. The stone thudded into it.

The woman moved, fast like a whip, snapping into a new pose, and spat a single word.