King Darian's squad rode into Kokor Village around noon the following day, along with Tucs' ape raiders. They were tired and dirty after completing a three-day patrol on Frontier Road, yet they were in high spirits.

They had ambushed a large group of Bloody Thrashers that had been feasting on scavenged goats, killing about forty of them. The apes had hit the goblins from the east side of the road, while the men had attacked from the west side.

During the ensuing melee, King Darian had lost two warriors and the apes had lost one. Out of respect for their fallen comrades, his men would build their funeral pyres before doing anything else. King Darian made his way to the Command Center.

It was eerie walking through the empty village. He couldn't help but remember the bustling streets from better days. He could almost smell the aromas of the street side cafes, which is what Kokor Village had been known for. Many of his men would travel here from the Upper Glen, while on break, to stay and enjoy the delicious foods. He had done it many times himself, long ago.

King Darian caught sight of Lord Biv's patrol heading out. The ten men looked excited to be back in their saddles and Lord Gondor, who was in the rear of the column, gave the king a wink as he passed by.

King Darian knew the cycle well. After a few days in the camp the men would become restless and want to go back out, and after the men were out for a few days they would become tired and want to come back in.

King Darian entered the Command Center and saw Captain Elliot standing over a map. The man was always looking for a combat advantage. He would make an excellent lord, but had shown little to no interest in making a Quest.

Captain Elliot's patrol had ridden in on the day King Darian's patrol had rode out. Captain Elliot's second-in-command, a good man named Captain Andrew, had returned strapped to his saddle after falling to a head-butt.

Andrew had been a very capable apprentice to Elliot and was a big loss, even for the twenty-seven Skull Crushers they had slain. They were now losing men with nearly every patrol that went out.

"Sire, it is good to see your well," Captain Elliot stated, pushing his gold-rimmed glasses up.

"Thanks, it is good to be well," King Darian said with a grin. "Who came in while we were out?"

"Well, the day after you went out, Lord Brickor's squad returned. They had a successful patrol, having killed eight Flesh Eaters and didn't lose anybody," Captain Elliot reported. "The following day, Lord Draydon's squad returned. They killed forty-six Skull Crushers at the cost of three warriors."

"That's a large horde." King Darian frowned.

"It would appear the enemy is pushing further south, with most of our patrols only making it out about a day or two before they are attacked, but it would seem we are holding our own and causing heavy damage," Elliot advised. "Maybe we are finally starting to stem the mighty green tide."

"Good. My patrol took out a decent sized horde of Bloody Thrashers and we also lost three." King Darian, rubbed his beard before continuing, "What about Lord Tobias' squad? Weren't they due back yesterday?"

"Yes sir. They came in last night," Captain Elliot answered, wondering how his king could keep track of who was due when, even while he had been out on his own patrol. "They killed another forty Bone Breakers. One of his captains fell, although I do not know which one. I think they also lost a couple of yules."

"Are we running low on mounts?" King Darian yawned.

"No, the riderless ones seem to find their way back to us. They wander in daily. We will run out men before we run out of yules."

"Okay, I am going to get some sleep. Wake me if anyone comes in," King Darian requested, as he headed for a doorway covered by a tattered saddle blanket at the back of the room.

He knew the lumpy cot hidden behind the saddle blanket all too well. He was just tired enough to be eager to lay down on the uncomfortable bed. King Darian was asleep a moment after his head hit the dusty pillow.
* * *
Two horses north, Lord Duve and his men sat laughing around a campfire. He had allowed the fire, but only after they had travelled half a horse from the goblin infested Frontier Road. The squad had passed through several large farm fields, now dormant with the oncoming cold and the departure of the field workers. They made camp in a small oak grove. Their yules were just out of sight, grazing on the edge of the field.

His second-in-command, Lord Pedigrass, was recounting the tale of the morning's battle. Pedigrass was an animated man, which made him a great storyteller, and he was telling this one with great excitement!

They had been ambushed by a large horde of goblins from the Skull Crusher Tribe. There had been intense confusion for several moments while the battle raged on. By the time it was all over, there were forty-one dead goblins. Lord Duve had lost a yule and two warriors. Despite the losses, it was a great victory. Still, the green enemy kept coming, with seemingly endless numbers.

The sun would be going down soon, so Duve threw another log on the fire and lay down on his bedroll, carefully setting his floppy purple hat nearby. He felt safe because his men would be standing guard in shifts throughout the night.

Goblins don't like to fight in the dark, but they seem to be learning. Frontier Road will be loaded with goblin ambushes tonight. We will head back to Kokor Village tomorrow morning, he thought, as sleep approached.

My squad has been out for three days, and it will be nice to sleep in a real bed again, even a lumpy dust filled Kokor bed. Soon the eccentric squad leader was in a deep slumber.

Lord Duve was awakened by a horrendous sound. It took him a moment or two to realize it was their yules. They were screaming, or something very similar. It was a horrible sound, the sound of death.

Lord Duve grabbed his hat and sprung to his feet, along with the rest of his squad. The two men who were on guard duty were heading for the mounts, hoping to save them, even though the yules had already grown silent.

"Hold!" Lord Duve ordered. "Gather your weapons and make a circle around the fire. Our foe isn't goblins. Something worse."

"Worse things than goblins?" Tooke, the newest lord in the group gulped.

"He's right, goblins wouldn't be concerned with our mounts," Pedigrass agreed.

The men gathered around the fire, listening for any danger approaching from out in the deep darkness of night. They didn't have to wait long. A low, surreal moan, sounded from the edge of the oak grove.

"What under the sun of my ancestors was that?" Lord Pedigrass asked, and was immediately answered by several more of the eerie moans, coming from every direction.

Then they could see . . . something. Shapes and forms coming through the trees towards them. It looked like men, yet they were moving in an odd, slow fashion, almost shambling towards them.

A chill ran down Lord Duve's spine when the creatures came into view, illuminated by the glow of the fire. They were men. Dead men! Their flesh was rotting and falling from their bones.
There were no eyes in their eye sockets, only an eerie yellow light coming from within. They were zombies, the walking dead, created by a very dark magic indeed.

"Strike them down! Send them back to the black pit from whence they came!" Lord Duve shouted while he chopped off the arm of the nearest zombie, although it continued to advance with the nearly forty undead now surrounded his men.

Lord Duve's archer fired arrow after arrow into the monstrosities coming towards him. The impact of the arrows slowed them, but soon the zombies were upon him, pulling him to the ground where they began to eat him.

Lords Pedigrass and Tooke ran over and chopped the creatures off the archer, but it was too late. The unfortunate man was dead. The two lords turned to face more zombies, and did not see the fallen archer rise to his feet behind them, his eyes now hollow and glowing yellow.

The dead archer grabbed Lord Tooke and bit deep into his neck, causing blood to spray forth. Lord Duve chopped the archer down and then tried to help Lord Tooke, but it was again too late. Duve swiftly removed the bit man's head and limbs.

The zombies were slow, but hard to kill. It took several blows to keep them down. Lord Duve chopped into one eight times before it finally dropped to the ground, where it lay twitching until the yellow glow faded from its eye sockets.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the remaining zombies turned and shambled off, moaning into the darkness. Five of them lay motionless on the ground, with the yellow light having left their hollowed eyes.

The zombies disappeared into the darkness, except for one that had lost its head during the battle. It kept walking into a large oak tree, over and over again. Lord Duve grabbed a spear that was stuck in the ground near the fire.

He threw it at the headless creature, striking it in the back and pinning it to the oak tree. The pinned zombie began twitching, which lasted for a couple of moments, then it became still. Lord Duve looked about, surveying the damage.

They numbered only five now. Lord Pedigrass, a captain, two warriors, and himself. They had suffered heavily, then he heard another sound. It was not over. There was no doubt about the new sound he could hear approaching from the gloomy darkness. Bones!

Creaking and cracking announced the arrival of a new threat that appeared out of the darkness. There was no mistaking these attackers for men, although they had once been. Row after row of skeletons, carrying rusty swords, came into the firelight.

They were moving towards the five men, surrounded by the same eerie glow that had been coming from the zombie's eyes. It was the same foul magic that had re-animated these poor souls.

"Get in a circle, backs to the fire!" Lord Duve commanded.

He swung his sword through two of the advancing skeletons, smashing them into a pile of bones, only to be replaced by four more. He kept swinging, dropping attacker after attacker.
Within minutes, he had smashed so many skeletons that his arm grew tired.

The skeletons were much quicker than the zombies, but could be destroyed much easier, usually crumbling from a single blow. Still, the skeletons kept coming, until the only thing Duve could see was a sea of white bones.

Duve was not sure where his men were or how they were faring. He just kept swinging his sword over and over, switching hands to rest an arm when he needed to. A skeleton managed to slice his hand and another knifed his thigh. Finally, without warning, the remaining skeletons turned and retreated into the darkness.

Lord Duve saw Lord Pedigrass laying on a nearby pile of bones, with several rusty blades sticking out of his chest. He was clearly dead, and with a sickening feeling, Lord Duve realized that he was the only one still alive.

He did not have time to mourn, because something caught his eye, causing him to raise his sword. An image of pure beauty was approaching him from the darkness.

A female, bathed in yellow light, was gliding across the clearing towards him. She had long flowing hair and a warm inviting smile, yet she looked sad somehow. She came to within two feet from him and opened her arms to embrace him.

Lord Duve could not take his eyes off the woman. She wore very revealing, primitive clothing, that showed much of her very supple feminine body. She seemed so warm and inviting. He could not break his gaze with her and felt his sword slip from his hand as she leaned in to kiss him.

Lord Duve felt a sharp chill enter his body. It turned into the coldest cold he had ever felt. It was the cold of death. He had not seen the male apparition, his beauty and appearance matching that of his female counterpart, glide up behind him. The male creature passed through Lord Duve's body.

Lord Duve's terrified screams melted into the darkness. When the male creature passed through Duve, it drained him of all life, withering him into a crumpled pile of wrinkled skin without bones.

His corpse looked as if all the liquid had been sucked from his body. His floppy purple hat with yellow feather still sat atop his head, although it now covered half of his withered face.
A couple of the warriors who had been bitten earlier, started to twitch and groan. Where eyes had once been, a yellow glow now resided. They rose to their feet, now part of the living dead.

A black robed figure walked into the clearing. The figure removed his hood, revealing the pale bald head of Daggart the Dark, his black eyes reflecting the moonlight.

The zombies busied themselves stacking the men killed by the skeletons into a pile around Lord Duve. Daggart walked up to the horrendous pile of death and began to chant a very old and very dark spell. He was replacing the losses to his army of the dead.