His previous injuries were now largely healed, thanks to his regenerative powers, but his right arm still ached deep in the bone where the knight had stabbed him, and his left shoulder still burned from the poisoned axe. With Admiral Halker waiting impatiently behind him in the hallway, he opened the door and stepped into the cool air of the room beyond.

The room, in a building adjacent to the one in which Vorr had his headquarters, once had been the spacious stone chapel of a local elven deity. After the fall of Spiral, it had served as a prisoner-holding station and was now just a room where scouts and other visitors were quartered before meeting with high officials. Enthusiastic orcs, scro, goblins, and others had demolished or stolen everything of value in the area during the assault, leaving the chapel as barren as if it never had been inhabited at all. Only the great brass lanterns, hanging on long chains from the vaulted ceiling, remained of the elves' original furnishings, their magical glow illuminating the room despite the battering they had taken from debris hurled at them by bored visitors.

Vorr did not know what to expect when he entered, except for the lich. Indeed, standing in the room's center, by the faceless and almost unrecognizable statue of an elven god, was a skeletal human in dark velvet robes. From its thin rope belt hung a single gray pouch. At Vorr's entrance, the creature turned from the statue with a startled movement to face him. Its bony hands came up with its fingers spread in an obvious spell-casting movement. The stench of long-dead meat assailed the general's nostrils almost immediately.

It was then that Vorr saw the four huge creatures standing farther back in the room, their black carapaces gleaming in the light overhead. The monsters turned as one to face the general, then raised their great clawed hands and widened their yard-long mandibles in anticipation, hurrying forward with a lumbering gait to pass the lich and plant themselves before him.

Vorr immediately blocked the doorway with his huge body ' and threw a hand out to stop the admiral's advance. "Umber hulks!" he shouted as he drew his sword. Then he saw that the room already had perhaps two dozen ogre guardsmen lining the walls, weapons at the ready. He also saw that the umber hulks' dangerous magical eyes were shrouded with torn strips of black cloth, preventing their mind-destroying vision from affecting the ogres already in the room. He hesitated, sensing that he had reacted too quickly.

"Halt!" The lich's rasping voice was strained and barely understandable. Striding forward between the huge monsters, the undead being placed a gentle, skeletal hand on the thick arm of one of its wide-bodied beasts. "You must slower walk, and less loud be, or difficulty with my servants I will have," the lich said, cold yellow-green light burning within its eye sockets. "Their eyes tightly bound are, but guarantee your safety I cannot, if them again you startle."

"This is my fault, I'm afraid," said Admiral Halker. He stepped past the general and entered the room, casually wiping sweat from his forehead. "I was careless and did not mention that your bodyguards were umber hulks, Skarkesh. I hope I got your name right."

"Skarkesh, it is." The lich dropped its fleshless hand from the umber hulk's arm. "Apologize for their presence I must. Trust in all things I lack, having this lesson in unfortunate ways learned. Like pets to me now they are."

Vorr sheathed his broadsword after another look around the room. Thanks to the eye shrouds, his ogres were not affected by the terrible madness that seized anyone who looked into an umber hulk's eyes-anyone but himself, of course, since magical effects couldn't touch him. The ogres, who had tensed at Vorr's arrival, relaxed slightly, keeping their pole axes and huge swords at the ready. Vorr was pleased to see their courage in the face of the lich, whose magic usually drove its foes mad with panic before it. Vorr frowned suddenly, sensing that something was wrong.

"To you two plainly I must speak," rasped the lich, turning to walk back to the battered statue. "At my news with excitement I am seized, but with you to speak alone I had hoped. Too many guards we keep, and my news best in quiet surroundings is given. Possible this is?"

The general and admiral carefully exchanged looks. "There is a small room in the back of this one, where we could discuss things," said the admiral, looking back at Skarkesh, "if General Vorr feels it would be safe enough."

This could be tricky, thought Vorr. Even two dozen ogres would be hard pressed against four umber hulks, and he knew damn well that the hulks' first action in combat would be to tear away those flimsy eye coverings. Vorr reached for the nearest ogre and waved him over. Pulling a small card from a pocket on his thick belt, the general handed it to the ogre and motioned at the door. "Take that to your company commander," he said softly. The sweat-streaked ogre grunted, sheathed its weapons, and left, pulling the door shut behind him. "We can talk now," Vorr finished.

"Enjoy tricks I do not," said the lich sharply, its voice rising in pitch. "What trick have you done?" The umber hulks shifted in agitation, their long mandibles clacking softly together like vast ivory claws.

"I sent him to tell his commander that if we were not back in two hours, he was to bring his entire force here to find out why," said the general in a matter-of-fact tone. "Trust in all things we lack, too, having learned that lesson in unfortunate ways like yourself. You and your big pets have as much safety as your behavior allows us to grant you."

The lich made a curious wheezing noise. "As you want," it said finally, "but unpleasant my gratitude will be if treachery for dinner you serve." General Vorr noted that the stench of carrion in the room was now stronger. Odd, he thought, looking at the lich. It's completely bone, with no trace of flesh. Could it have rotting meat under its robes? There was also the reaction of the ogres-or, rather, the curious lack of any reaction among them to confronting the lich. It didn't make sense. Things had gone quite differently, years ago in the Glowrings Sphere, when Vorr had been the only warrior who dared come within striking range of the undead sorcerer.

Admiral Halker stepped forward, waving a hand to the back of the room. "Let's get on with our talk. Skarkesh, if you would have your bodyguards remain here, we shall do the same with ours. They look like they should keep each other in good company." The admiral rubbed his flat nose briefly, undoubtedly not enjoying the stench the lich was giving off but still putting up a pleasant front.

"Agreed I am," whispered the lich, and uttered a series of harsh syllables at its bodyguards. The umber hulks shifted their huge clawed feet, forming a defensive square to watch all sides of the room, and appeared to await further instructions.

Admiral Halker took the initiative and led the way to the back of the room. The little room at the rear had been for the elven priests, in all likelihood, as the scro had slain several minor clerics and their followers there in a massacre after the landings. The old scro stepped aside to allow Vorr to enter the little room first.

The room was about ten feet square, with a ceiling low enough to force the general to stoop. Its imported sandstone walls were once covered with bas-relief work and paintings, all now destroyed. Vorr examined the room briefly, seeing only the two heavy tables normally stored here and a few wine bottles and pots lying broken in one filthy corner; low-bred orcs or goblins held their parties here, no doubt. The floor was still stained brown from the massacre after the invasion, and the stale air bore the stink of old blood. It would get a lot worse with the lich here as well, Vorr thought.