Aleric raised his brows curiously.
"Oh? What do you mean, Staff?"
"This is a great opportunity to learn some ritual torture, master. This person will survive longer than usual thanks to the holy water he drank…"
Cold sweat appeared on Gedich's forehead. Not only because of the conversation, but because he saw a talking artifact! He had only heard about artifacts powerful enough to be sentient, and never about those who talked. This was some sorcery as powerful as it was vile.
"Actually, I want 'this worm' to talk," Aleric said. "Templar! Tell me—are there any of your friends still around and alive? Should I expect more arrows in the back?"
Instead of a reply, Gedich spat out a globe of blood and saliva. It missed Aleric's boot and landed on the hand of a zombie holding Gedich down. The zombie didn't mind.
Aleric stabbed Gedich's broken arm with the butt of the Spine Staff. The man screamed from pain, but Aleric was too used to the sounds by now.
Not that they touched him even before.
"Will you tell me now, templar?" Aleric asked.
"No! By the Light, no! Nothing you can do will make me! Judgment will strike you!"
'The templar is probably right,' Aleric thought bitterly. 'I'm no torturer. If I stab him, he will just bleed out. He's already breathing too unevenly—are his ribs broken?'
"There are ways to enslave a man's soul and make it do your bidding. And answer your questions. These are advanced spells, master, but with your talent—perhaps if you try…" Even the Spine Staff itself sounded full of doubts as it said it.
Suddenly, Aleric smirked.
"No need. I already found what I wanted from the worm's squealing. Without knowing, he was playing my hand. If there was anyone close enough to save him, the templar would've tried to bide for time and distract me, so I'd make a good target. But he knows that he's doomed already."
Gedich gasped.
"Ho-how…"
Aleric's smile widened. He made a blind guess and added some bluff to it, but it was true. Although if it was false, he was sure that the templar would've given that out with his reactions.
"You are like an open book, worm. And that says someone who had to talk to himself to remember common speech," Aleric mocked and threw in another blind guess. "I can even tell that although your squad was sent after me, there's another, much larger force already gathering to strike me down."
Gedich looked at Aleric in blind shock. He couldn't understand how the necromancer could be so perceptive! Perhaps he was already reading Gedich's thoughts?
"This won't save you, evil spawn," Gedich hissed. Pain was shooting through his chest with every breath. "No matter how many innocents you will turn into your slaves, the army sent against you will crush them all. And you!"
'So it's an army,' Aleric thought. 'Not a squad anymore. Is it sent by some local lord? Who IS the local lord?'
Aleric had no idea. He only knew that the lords owned the land, had armies, and swore fealty to the king. There was nobody to explain to him the fine details…
He shook his head.
"Your words are just empty bravado, worm. Even if you bring a hundred people, I have enough zombies to kill them all."
Gedich laughed.
"A hundred? Count Arstain can call twice as many people! And the justicar's best battle clerics and paladins! And…" He fell silent, realizing what he was doing.
Playing the necromancer's tune!
But it was too late, and Aleric was smiling.
"I see. Truly, an impressive force—and one that can't gather quickly. This means I will have some time to prepare them a welcome just as warm as they would have had for me."
Aleric stepped away from the templar, giving his zombie horses a silent order to kill him. While their hooves crushed the man's skull, Aleric was already whispering the Undead Slave spell to cast it on the templar's dead comrades.
Very soon, Aleric had five new templar zombies. He also found the templar's horses a few hundred feet away and turned them into zombies.
The horses weren't special, but the zombies had bows.
"Can they actually use them?" Aleric wondered aloud.
Obeying his order, the zombie of Gedich raised its bow. With slow movements, it took an arrow out of its quiver and aimed at a tree fifteen paces away.
Aleric was already impressed. The bow was wobbling, but the overall posture looked good. The undead slave really kept some of its previous skills!
The zombie shot. The arrow missed the target by a couple of inches and hit a tree a few steps away.
"Good enough. You will be my zombie archers," Aleric concluded. "Take care of these bows. They probably shouldn't get wet…"
When Aleric returned to the river crossing, he was relieved to find that nothing drowned in his absence and nothing had fallen apart. However, when he looked at the horses on the other side of the river, he saw one carrying a large, wet, and dirty tarp behind it.
Aleric's stolen mattress! It must've got untied during crossing, and now it was thoroughly wet and definitely unusable.
"Damn it. I just can't have good things!"
Scowling, Aleric ordered his fresh recruits to pack their things—including arrows that were stuck in his horse—and cross the river. He went ahead of them, letting his undead horse carry him over.
His legs were wet already, anyway.
Another half an hour later, Aleric's army gathered on the other side of the river without further adventures. Without waiting for things to dry out, Aleric ordered his undead to keep marching.
By his estimate, the old fortress should be close now.
'And when I reach this place… The templars will be the ones who become hunted!'