Read Aetheric Elements: The Rise of a Steampunk Reality Page 12
People screamed all around Nomed. The voracious insects gave no quarter as they made their way deeper into the city. The undead lurched through the night. He watched as what could be called the sergeants and lieutenants of the corpse horde dashed here and there. Wholesale slaughter was the order of the night. Before joining them, Nomed had watched Grenedal meet with the blue man and learned his theory was right. Simple magics could make him undetectable to Grenedal if the other man was close.
Malvornick would not hold Humbrey now. Nomed had succeeded in breaking the man’s plans. The Duke’s puppets were dying by the hundreds. No armies from the north would dance to his tune; no kings or nobles would answer his call. Events were in place and moving. Grenedal had helped bring the last bastion of hope out of these condemned lands. They headed north on a tide of death, led by a man reborn. Now the observer had other things to do. Business in the south required his attention. There was a matter of a demon, Kez’et-dual, who wanted him dead.
A thin, bony dog skulked out of the alley, and in the swirl of a short cape a man stood where a dog had walked a moment earlier, and stepped over the forms of the fallen humans. He crushed the head of a zombie rising for the first time.
Grenedal had been roused; even now, the dragonkin swooped down, bringing death to the hordes of insects and undead, rallying the humans of Trism. Death was in that one’s future. Even a dragon could have strings attached, and be taught to dance upon command. Nomed loved what he did, and no one was better at it than he.