“Wall,” the goliath straightened his back with fire in his eyes. “Bo’Ra’Set,” the Bestial Star shook his mane with anticipation. “Corallan,” the insectoid abomination chittered excitedly. “Sashro,” the practitioner of the arcane arts opened his blackened eye wide. “Lock down The Spire. None leave. None enter. Not until I’ve eradicated this problem.”

I used to eradicate vermin from the farm. Now this? I guess I cleaned up that town well enough. Christoph considered the damage done to the town when other humans were allowed to wreak havoc. These monsters might be worse.

Each of the captains bowed and saluted in their own way. Within their minds, we see the soldier preparing himself for battle. Not the soldier as Christoph had once been. These warriors were baptized in the boiling pitch of battle. Hardened by their experience, the civil war they’d expected was nothing more than an extermination—the bugs and rodents being brought under heel until they stopped squirming.

Ormal also grunted his approval. His loyalty was with the king that had given his people purpose. He wore garments made by professional hands and filled his belly with meats and balanced meals that couldn’t be found in such quantity beyond these stone walls. One rambunctious goblin wouldn’t lose him this luxury.

As they’d all known the struggle of life, this young soldier made king began to plot. Scheming with what knowledge he had, a heat rose in his chest. Something like a dream, a past life of tactical studies and plotted forces, eases the voice from his throat.

“Spread out. Ensure each gateway is secure. Confirm those loyal in your factions.” Taking to the role with a natural veracity, The King of the Undead commanded his living subjects. Cut off their escape and supply. “Bo’Ra’Set, you ensure that The Stables are secured. No one takes out a single beast.”

“Grr, yes, my Lord!” The lion-man set off immediately to spread the word.

Create a defensive perimeter. Fall back if necessary.

“Wall,” the goliath leaned in a bit to hear these words with unblinking resolve. “When you finish, move to secure the throne room and the surrounding hallways. I also leave my personal rooms in your care.” Christoph motioned toward the door where the treasured horde and the sleeping quarters of the king were.

“My Lord!” Jeseph swung his massive form toward the door. He set off to prepare his men for whatever may come.

Magical flares.

“Corallan,” the dragonkin pointed toward the door. “Hurry and prepare your kin. Spread them out to communicate between the groups. I want updates on all movements.” He then turned his attention to the smallest member of the meeting. “How many are there, and where do you think this Gem is?” Christoph couldn’t help but slur his name with distaste.

“Ma Lord,” Ormal began to stand. “Ah can show the Captains. They’ve been meetin’ on Perdition. The Devil’s Nook was where Ah heard them plottin’.” Christoph wasn’t familiar with the local establishments, but he’d heard Perdition before.

“How far from the arena is that?” He asked both Sashro and Ormal.

“Not far, ma Lord.” The goblin stuck out his lower lip in a scowl. “If you allow it, Ah’d gladly put down the goblin ma-self.”

“Thank you,” that kindness again. It sounded so odd from the lips of such a dreaded beast. Yet, the goblin received it with glee. “But, the leader of this revolt is mine. He claims I am weak.” The mad smile of the undead dragonkin revealed the sharpened teeth, “I’ll prove him false.”

“Of course, ma Lord.” A rugged grin pulled back over the remaining teeth of the goblin. A jagged maw of broken or missing bones made the expression akin to a demon.

“Lead the way.” Christoph commanded. “Sashro, you’ll hurry to your teams as well.”

“My Lord, I have already sent a message.” Christoph saw the faint flicker of a blue light near his advisor’s head. Magic had been cast and the telepathic commands were sent out to one of his men. “One of my best is already making preparations. I wouldn’t dare leave your side with an apparent uprising afoot.” He shared in the toothy grins of the other two. His black eye flashed with expectations.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

“Very well. Go,” he splayed his cloak with a heavy whoosh. The goblin hustled to the door and down the hallway. Four guards had already made their way into the corridor with the altar in the center. The two rooms on either side would easily be taken over with only two men per door, but Christoph could already hear the clashing of battle.

A familiar beckoning. A surreal whisper that seemed to slow time and drag Christoph back to the night when stars were cast down upon mankind. For all their sins and bloodshed, the Heavens had sent judgement.

I will remain. The tactical mind of a humanoid dragon raced with anticipation.

As they walked, the three toward the storm, thunder roared toward them as if a mighty beast were calling. The eyes of the undead dragonkin picked up on the glimmer of various tools and bodies. Armor rose and fell as if waves of metal were flowing through the corridors. It had only taken a few minutes, and Jeseph had already sent an entire squadron of men, well equipped and seemingly well trained, to guard the most valuable of rooms within Surton Spire.

These soldiers saw their king grow nearer. With perfect fluidity, their ranks halted, turned inward, and split down the center. A jogging goblin, a grinning wizard, and a monstrous lich strolled easily through the opening.

Each stared in wonder at their king. His deadly horns, his ravenous eyes, the build of a demigod, and the scales with a metallic shine. He was a vision of glory; the savior that stepped down the cooled halls toward the foes among their own kin.

“Lord Gohdin!” One member among the soldiers cheered and dropped a spear’s pole to the floor. It began a crashing sea of metal slamming into the ground as they cheered on their king. They slammed their metal in unison as drums of war; songs written on the spot to immortalize the already immortal king’s visage. All hear the tale of the great king who went to carve the cancer from his own nation’s flesh.

Christoph’s mind had always been one of the moment. It was never his way to consider far into the future or to consider what might lie beyond. In some ways, this has granted him a great advantage in moments such as this.

There was no hesitation.

There was no panic or worry.

There was a problem, and there was going to be a solution.

It wasn’t until he found himself at the opening of the cavern from the royal corridors to the shelves that ran above Tartarus that he witnessed the grand nature of his domain and the turmoil it would soon endure. The city was one of bustling monstrosities and hurried creatures. It seemed a chaotic display, yet there was a lawful construct to the entirety on the common days. This day; however, was one where order had been replaced with madness.

Rumors spread quickly. The words of the king had already found their way into the city. There were horns blowing from somewhere within the top level of Tartarus. Monsters and beings moved throughout the streets, shapeless shadows and blobs from the height where the king stood. He peered down over his underground lands and saw the growing danger of fear.

There were distant screams, roars, occasionally… there were the sounds of destruction. Metal clanged, minor explosions or blasts, and the odd sounds of abilities Christoph had yet to discover among his peoples echoed below him in the enormous crater of a city. The bowels of Surton Spire had ignited. Perdition, the first level, had become a battlefield.

Christoph gazed out of the escalating madness and growled lowly. “Sashro!”

“Yes, my Lord?” The wizard stepped to the front. A wonderfully carved platform jutted out over the open space for the king to stand. They stood beside one another and witnessed the beginning of their battle. Witnessed the carnage from a vantage like stars over mankind’s wars.

“Message your team. We first secure the doors, but I want any available hands down there now!”

“Right away!” The wizard’s hand rose to his temple. Flashes of blue light popped around his hand as mental commands were cast out into the subterranean city. His eyes darted back and forth while Christoph attempted to find the best course of action. “There are already groups moving toward the Eastern gates, my Lord!”

Already? Why did this all happen so suddenly?

Jewels and veins of minerals dazzled high above in the darkness—barely touched by the light of flowing lava. Christoph’s undead chest continued to warm as his unnecessary breathing increased.

I’m the star giver now. He thought with disbelief and known ignorance. Malin… I will stop them here!

“We go now! Ormal,” the goblin flinched and faced his master. His arm rose to his chest and he bowed. “Lead the way! Find me Gem!”