The bait they'd flung from the wall had no features left to speak of. The stumps of his limbs had turned black with rot. Every time the barbed whip kissed his body, flesh split open like wet paper, and dark red liquid dripped steadily onto the stone below.
I kept the Undead Legion hidden in the ruins outside the Bastion. The thick stench of blood was driving them into a frenzy.
A handful of strays broke formation, shrieking as they charged the gate. Arrows punched through the backs of their skulls with surgical precision. Second death, instant.
"Ha! These zombies are so damn stupid!"
"A few more rounds of this and we'll have the whole perimeter cleared!"
The soldiers on the wall were laughing, joking, shoving each other. Not a trace of the grim discipline they'd had three years ago.
I muttered the command phrase under my breath, layering another restraint over the Legion.
"That's it? A handful of zombies? Barely worth drawing my bow!"
At those words, the whipping stopped.
But someone immediately pulled out a knife, grinning.
A dull blade, sawing into living flesh. Pure, deliberate savagery.
A few of the younger soldiers covered their eyes, unable to watch.