Chapter twenty
Undead of KregenNo nightmares trouble me over that horrid fight with the Undead. The poor creatures were husks only, shells, their spirits already wandering the Ice Floes of Sicce, seeking the sunny uplands beyond. Bundles of bone, swathings of rotten cloth, stained with the dirt of the years, many of them simply rushed in with clawed fingers seeking to rip us to pieces.
These already dead we could deal with. The recently slain posed a tougher problem, for in their ghastly resurrection they snatched up sword or spear, pushed helmet straight, and wearing what armor they had worn in life plunged screeching upon us.
I say we could deal with the dead. At first this did not appear to be the case.
“They are dead!” screamed that same voice at my back. “How can we kill dead men?
