Cold as Ice - Part 3 The stolen power of the Ordic essence washed through what passed for Trenthak's

soul. He could feel, absently, the agony with which he had taken their lives. It inspired him, restored him like the finest of wines would restore a living man. He felt the presence of other minds in the shared soulstorm and submerged his awareness entirely into the suffering of the being whose corpus was scattered amongst the Circle of Cryx.

He felt them then, the pinprick 'yes-i-am' that signified other scarlock thralls and the booming voices that denoted the Warcasters of the Circle. They echoed through the medium of shared agony, and within instants he began to comprehend their import. It was a dispute, as usual. The Lich Lords would not, nay, could not, cease their feuding even during such an important undertaking as the Divinitas incursion.

"You let her get away?" The voice, so beautiful even dripping with scorn, could only come from the Wraith Witch. "My sister helpless before you, and she walks free once again? I'd have put such egregious failure beyond the scope of even your inadequacy, elf."

The Wraith Witch was a principal of Asphyxious's faction, one of his chief supporters. Trenthak had heard word of her dread efficacy deployed in the build up work to this incursion. She was by all accounts a ferocious and cunning servant of her master, despite the contempt her frail feminine form inspired.

"The fault was Roland Blackblade's. I left him with sufficient forces to kill a hundred men. I'd have remained myself but for the directive to complete once more the Coven. It was your master who sponsored that half-wit's service, was it not? Asphyxious's noted fondness for living henchmen has let us down time and again in this conflict."

Goreshade's rejoinder dripped with bitterness. Unable to deny the failure the eldritch pinned it to another, and the accusation that Asphyxious was behind the persistent mutinies served to taint him in the eyes of the majority of the circle, for whom the living had value only in their ability to provide corpses, as well as call attention to the Wraith Witches own intolerably recent ascension into the ranks of undeath.

Trenthak could remember a time when Goreshade had stood beneath the banner of Lich Lord Asphyxious, but these days he was a part of the Terminus faction. Both Lich Lords stood diminished with the rise of Divinitas, and they both understood that only by consolidating all military support could they challenge his divinely gifted authority. Sadly, both Lich Lords felt that the other must be the one to give way, and so they remained divided, and Divinitas had his way.

The voice of the overall commander of the Incursion was the next to be heard, and all others instantly fell silent. Divinitas's characteristic hiss felt almost caustic, as though simply hearing it diminished those who could not escape his sermons.

"My Brethren. The God of Caen, Toruk Dragonfather, has honored us by permitting us to enact his scheme. This land is fertile and well peopled. Its populace, sacrificed to the master in body and soul, will make a fitting offering. Its resources, mined and shaped by the cunning hands of the Necrotechs, will provide further offerings..."

He went on in this way for some time. Trenthak strained his very being with the intensity of the communion. This was ever the way of the Dark Priest. Divinitas mixed his orders into his sermons, which simultaneously allowed him to place them in the mouth of the Dragonfather and provided a plausible way to deny giving any order that lead to disaster. It was a technique that proved useful in politics, but here on the battlefield it was just a hassle. How could an army divine the will of a general who spoke only in parables and allegories?

Trenthak found it amusing that in the grips of this dilemma he wasn't for a second tempted to pray to Toruk for guidance. The less the Dragonfather knew of him, the better. Few things could frighten the dead. Those things lead this army.