The rocks of the valley were cruel
But the soldiers made no complaint
Indeed, few of them had lips to frame a protest
The wizard's troops were beyond pain or fear of death
They were already dead!
Necromancer
From his zombie-borne palaquin
The wizard glowered at the rock-stream wilderness around him
His inner eye saw farther
Nothing lived in that desert - but something moved
A small group of shadowy forms, little more than grave-dust in the shape of a man
Wraiths! - but not his!
Necromancer
He wondered who his rival was!
Only another necromancer would control a wraith-
Or know the miasma and cover its treasure
Necromancer
