The residents of Defarlas fled in panic at the sight of my army marching out of the forest. Thousands of them loaded their lives and loved ones into carts and streamed down the road toward the provincial capital. I had no plans to hurt any of the villagers, but I didn't mind getting them out of the way either. At the front of the pack, the town's Paladin garrison ran with their metaphorical tails between their legs. My soldiers had caught them napping (literally), and they'd scampered away for reinforcements without even a thought of defending the townsfolk. How typical. I knew they'd be back, and I didn't mind if they brought their army with them. On the contrary: I was expecting it.

My skeletons raided the town for supplies. No, not food, nor clothing, nor firewood. That's one of the greatest benefits of an undead army: there is no logistical baggage needed. Many a Paladin campaign has failed, starved to death against wiser Necromancer kings who realized that the foe's weakness is not the heart or the brain, but the stomach. No, we were not after food. I had my skeletons rummage through every house and shop in search of shirts, sheets.... anything white.

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I stood at the top of a hill with Mog sitting beside me and together we watched the sun rise. The sky was streaked bright red, normally considered a bad omen in these parts. But bad for whom? Not too far off in the distance, we could see the Paladin army coming our way. Bugles sounded through the crisp morning air, urging them all forward.

"MANY," Mog commented.

I nodded in response. There were a lot of them; more than I had expected. The stream of horsemen kicked up a billowing cloud of dust over the rocky surface of the plains.  It seemed like every man carried an orange-and-white banner in one hand, and a gold-tipped lance in the other. I wondered if they could see us waiting in the trees. If they couldn't yet, they would soon.

"Forward!" I ordered the skeletons behind me.

Each one shouted  "Yes Master," simultaneously, then came surging out from between the trees and down the hill like a flash flood. Mog stood and hoisted me up onto his shoulder. Last night, I had the skeletons quickly forge him a battle-axe (made from two plows we'd scavenged in the village) and it was now strapped to his back. The weapon was crude, but certainly effective enough for someone of his strength. It also made a pretty good handle for me to hold on to as the ogre lumbered forward. The skeletons, with their magical senses, knew to get out of the way of wherever his foot was about to land.

Across the plains, the bugles sounded once again. And from the back of the Paladin army, deep drums began to belt out their own thumping rhythm. They were signaling that the battle was about to begin. The horsemen fixed their banners to their saddles and lowered the lances, the clerics began casting enhancement spells in flashes of white light, while foot soldiers drew golden swords. My own soldiers' weapons remained sheathed, though. Instead, each one of them carried a pole or a branch with a white flag attached to the top.

We came to a halt on the center of the field. My minions formed up into six perfect square formations, each one still holding a white flag. The Paladins warily drew closer, weapons at the ready. They wouldn't trust a Necromancer, even one signaling surrender. But as far as I knew, this wasn't something that had ever happened before. Any Necromancer would probably be shunned for even considering admitting defeat to the Paladins.

I stepped out in front of the army and waited for the Paladins to send a representative to parley. Their front lines came to a halt a few dozen feet away, close enough that I could see the glares and grimaces framed by golden helmets. Close enough to close the distance and tear through us as soon as someone gave the order.

"YOU!" A voice roared from within the crowd. I saw a lone figure dismount from his horse and jump into sea of men. Then, I heard scuffling and the clanging of metal, and finally the Paladin burst through the front lines and approached me. "You son of a bitch!" I smirked back. It was the Paladin that Skip had tricked, back when we first met. The one that she convinced to go search along the coast while we headed further inland.

Another Paladin stepped through the crowd and approached us. His neatly-trimmed gray beard spilled over his armored chest plate, nearly down to his belt. He carried no weapon, but there was a shimmering barrier around him like a soap bubble. He must have been a powerful cleric. "Sir Douroeth, you know this man?" Despite his age, his voice was firm as steel.

Douroeth answered by drawing his sword and taking another step closer. "It's the Necromancer that killed Sir Athaelwas." His voice was a rage-filled snarl. "And somehow tricked us with his lies."

"Tricked you," I corrected him. "Who was that cleric with you? 'Bess' was her name, I believe? You probably owe her an apology right about now." From deep within the Paladin ranks, I heard a loud "HA!" in response. I could only imagine that she also wore a triumphant, told-you-so grin.

The knight didn't take that very kindly. He charged forward, pointing the tip of his blade straight at my belly. So I melted it with the power of the Ruby, just like it had done to Athaelwas's weapon for Lirk. That stopped Douroeth mid-lunge with a dumbfounded expression on his smug face. Then I sent him flying back into the front lines, knocking over at least a dozen of the waiting men. The entire armed tensed up, thinking that this was the beginning of the attack. But their leader raised a single hand. "Please keep all dogs muzzled during our negotiations," I told the grizzled Paladin leader. He didn't even flinch; just smirked a bit and assessed me with cold, grey eyes.

"Fair enough," he finally answered. "What do you want, Necromancer?"

"My name is Winston," I told him. My dreams of being known as 'Baron of Skulls' were long gone by now. I didn't want to rule; I just wanted Skip back.

The Paladin bowed. "Winston, then. I am General Fleiros. And I repeat: what do you want?"

"An alliance. I want to help kill Amcerlizar." Behind me, Mog uttered a deep, threatening growl just at the mention of the name, causing the Paladin's eyes to flick upward for just a second.

"Why? Don't you scavengers normally stick together?" He spat out the derogatory nickname that Paladins used for Necromancers. "How do we know you're not working with Amcerlizar, and this is some sort of trap?"

"He..." A lump began to form in my throat again as I thought of Skip's body, waiting cold and alone under the crypt in the graveyard. "He killed two of my best friends," I answered at last. Mog growled again from behind me.

The general and I stared at each other for a while as he sized me up. "And you think we need your help? Why shouldn't we just kill all of you right now?" he asked. "You really think some paltry skeletons would be a good match for a real Paladin army? I've defeated Necromancers with armies fifty times this size." He didn't seem like the type to boast; he was just stating a fact.

"You could try to kill me now." The Ruby tingled against my chest, just itching for him to try. "But you wouldn't be able to. So you should just agree to ally with me."

Fleiros actually laughed. "You're bold, I'll give you that. But my kind doesn't work well with your kind. So, I'm afraid I'll have to reject your offer, Winston the Necromancer." He raised a hand and signaled for his men to move forward. But they found themselves unable to: some type of magical force held them all in place. A few of the clerics tried casting dispersal spells at my skeletons, but my own army was far out of range, and the energy sputtered and dissipated before even reaching the front lines.

"I'm sorry that you feel that way." The power of the Ruby flowed through me and into the windswept stone beneath my feet, keeping the Paladins glued in their spots. "But you see, you never really had a choice at all. You're either working with me... or you're working for me."

The earth beneath our feet jolted suddenly as a ring of deep cracks appeared in the ground, forming a wide circle that encompassed both armies. Horses whinnied and strained against my spell as they tried to rear up and throw off their riders. The Paladin soldiers looked around wildly in panic, but General Fleiros kept his cool. He crossed his arms and stared at me, waiting to see how this played out.

Around the circle's perimeter, more fissures were suddenly carved out of the solid stone using the Ruby's power. I couldn't see them from this distance, but I could feel it as each one was carefully scratched into the surface of the rocky plain. Unlike the circular cut, these shapes were precisely crafted and carefully placed. They had to be, in order for this giant Summoning Pedestal to work.

I turned back to the General. The golden armor of the Paladins glowed blue, reflecting the light coming off of the activating Summoning Pedestal runes. "Let's go meet Amcerlizar, shall we?" He just glared in response as I uttered the incantation and both armies began to dissolve into mist.

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