“Come.” Vala stood where she was and didn’t move. She didn’t even lower her sword. “Come?” she gasped. “After you killed Parth and everyone else?” “I did not kill them, woman. I saved you.” The elf continued away, but his head turned to face her, his neck giving a mushy crackle as it traveled the last few inches to sit backward on his shoulders. “From what I saw, I will be of more use to you than they were.” “Doing what?” Vala asked, starting after him. “Surviving.” The elf rotated his head forward again. Deciding there was truth in what he said, Vala lowered her guard and moved to within four paces of him, where his chill aura grew so uncomfortable she began to shiver. She had seen enough undead in the past six months to recognize him as some sort of lich, but his presence did not engender the same sense of fear and corruption she had experienced back in Karsus when she and Galaeron and their companions had fought the lich Wulgreth. What she wouldn’t have given to have Galaeron at her side, with his Tomb Guard’s knowledge of all things unlivingbut the old Galaeron before he fell victim to the corrupting influence of the Shadow Weave.
