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. Blows
against the dead passed through - yet many dead spiraled
back into the carrion-tainted earth, and their lightless eyes
glowed with an odd relief as they sank.
Forces were in disorder, yet few commands were
needed; the dead fought as they had for so long, and the
draconians fought for their lives. Except for a few cries of
anger and pain from the draconians, the only other sound
was the slow fall of stone bodies as, one by one, the
draconians fell to earth clutching unseen wounds and half-
twisting scaley faces in agony. Starlight flickered off real
and ghostly weapons; bodies twisted or toppled into grassy
shadows and were bodies no longer.
To an onlooker it might have seemed some strange
dance without music. It was a war with little sound and no
corpses, a battle for nightmares.
Through it all walked the king, his sword flashing right
and left at arm's length. By himself, in the brief fight, he
accounted for three draconians, and his heart seemed to beat
again with his own pride as they dropped to the right and
left. His arms felt, not the endless weariness of the accursed
dead, but the growing soreness and strain of a living
warrior. His eyes flicked back and forth alertly, noting even
how a sweet night wind ruffled the grass into which allies
and enemies were falling
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