Defiant Necromancer (Book 2 stubbed)

“Bloodlady, I have diplomats who wish to treat with you!”

A voice cut into Ragga’s sleep. She growled and shook herself awake.

Normally, she would be inclined to kill whoever interrupted her midday nap, but this sounded like it could be important.

Diplomats. She’d never had diplomats before.

She rose and peeped through the opening of her tent, and her eyes widened.

Who is that with Bojan? It appeared to be another beastman but of a different tribe. Odd. I have only seen those of the wolf and rabbit tribes before. From what hole did he pull this male?

Then she saw Frella and her posse of females nosing around her wolf cavalry and their guest.

Did you fools not hear? These are diplomats, here for me! Not you!

She called out at the same time that she poked her head out, “Get away! Ragga claims these diplomats as guests!”

There was a grumbling from some of those around, but Frella and her bitches froze and then fell back subserviently.

Frella was one of those fortunate ogres who Ragga had defeated but spared in her first ever leadership contest, so even though she tried to posture as if she was important, she knew through painful experience who the true power in the horde was. The gap between them had only grown since then.

Ragga stepped out and looked over the guests. The male had big, floppy, beige ears and a tail. He looked strong for one so much smaller than herself.

Hm. Cute.

She saw a flicker of movement overhead, looked up and witnessed what seemed to be a miracle. Two flying humanoid women. They weren’t using dragon wings, so that wasn’t the explanation.

Bird women, she decided. More beastfolk.

Among the wolfmen on horseback there were another two people who seemed to be associated with the party, one a beastman, the other a human. There was an odd feeling about them, though.

As if they weren’t quite normal.

It was hard to put her finger on, so Ragga decided not to think too hard about it.

“Ragga!” demanded a harsh male voice.

She frowned and looked over at the ogre who had spoken.

It was Zabrac, a troublemaker.

“What is it, Zabrac, fucker of donkeys?” she said, deliberately provocative.

His face stiffened, but he forced himself to speak through his clenched teeth rather than trying to fight. He was dumb, but if he was fool enough to start a fight with Ragga over an insult, he would be dead already.

“These ‘diplomats’ kill three of our men. They wound Zarros, my brother! Ogre blood cries out from the soil for justice!”

There was a murmur of agreement from those around, which Ragga silenced with a harsh glance, looking around at everyone in a semicircle around her.

“I decide what is called for, Zabrac! How were they killed? Did diplomats attack from behind? How do my ogre warriors lose to ones the wolfmen have so easily brought to face me? Your weakness shames the tribe!”

Zabrac flinched, and in the moment he hesitated, Bojan spoke up.

“The ogres tried to eat them, Bloodlady,” he said.

“Is this true, Zabrac?” she asked instantly. She was annoyed at Bojan for speaking on someone else’s behalf, but the wolfman was always uppity. Like he thought he was better than them. She would deal with him some other time, perhaps. Zabrac was the problem right now.

“Y-yes, Ragga. Outriders told of a threat, and we ran to face them! Uh, for you!”

“The diplomats asked to see you before any fighting happened,” Bojan interjected again, before Ragga could answer. “Then these idiots tried to eat them.”

She gave him a warning look. Shut up, Bojan. This is my horde!

“Sounds like you lost a fair fight, Zabrac,” Ragga said. She licked her lips and raised an eyebrow. “I decide how best to deal with this… strapping warrior.”

The ogre’s eyes widened in surprise. Everyone around understood the implication of her tone and body language. She was interested in the beastman, and not for purposes of punishment.

“All of you, back to your tasks!” she barked. “Have you forgotten we are invaders? We must pay attention to security, keep watch, keep hunting, keep weapons sharp. If you have nothing to do, you talk to your boss and they give you work! How can I conquer Kingdom with lazy ogres?”

At that, the gathered ogres scattered. No one wanted to volunteer for work.

The winged women took that as their cue to descend alongside the wolfmen and their landbound guest.

Ragga turned to the group of gathered beastfolk and switched to beasttongue. She might not look smart, as an ogre, but she was fluent in six languages. That was what came of growing up in disputed territory that was constantly shifting owners.

“‘Diplomats’ are friends of yours, Bojan?”

The wolfman snorted, then stiffened as Ragga fixed him with another of her hard looks.

“No, Bloodlady,” he said quickly. “They are of my race but not of my tribe. I don’t know them.” He looked back at the man behind him, who quickly dismounted from Bojan’s horse.

He was rather tall for a beastman, though again, still small compared to Ragga. Even off the mount, he looked strong.

“Bloodlady, I am Andric of the fox tribe. My companions are Tatiana and Sabine of the harpy tribe, my fiancees.” He took their hands in his as he spoke. “We are also accompanied by two servants of our leader, the Beastking, a necromancer.”

What is that word, fiancees? Ragga put it aside as something to ask about later. There seemed to be some implication of a close bond.

“What does necromancer want with Ragga?” she asked, a little amused at the euphemism ‘servants’ being used for what she now knew must be undead.

“Alliance,” Andric said. “Together, your people and ours could topple the Kingdom.”

“Ragga’s people could take over Kingdom alone,” she replied instantly. “Perhaps, if this Beastking is as cute as you, Ragga could find some other use for him.”

The foxman reddened instantly as her meaning set in. She found that slight embarrassment charming. He also got points for being able to carry a conversation, unlike most ogre males.

“The Beastking already has a number of brides,” one of the harpies observed. “He may begin to have trouble remembering your names at this—”

“Tatiana!” Andric interjected sternly. The harpy woman stopped talking. He looked back at Ragga. “The Kingdom is not so easily defeated. My people have been fighting them for centuries. Your horde appears strong, but it would be difficult for you to win.”

She frowned. “I am mightiest warrior in ten tribes. That how I assemble horde. Acknowledged by beastmen, humans, centaurs… everyone we fight joins or dies. How do you imagine I lose?”

“There is an army out there hunting for you right now,” Andric replied. “General Pius, with a full corps of men.” Ragga frowned again. He continued, “That’s at least twenty thousand.”

She felt a little uneasy at those numbers but tried not to show it.

“Ragga overcame a bigger army before,” she lied. “One ogre worth five human men!”

The harpy woman looked like she wanted to say something again, but Ragga noticed the foxman squeezed her hand, and she stayed silent. Clearly he was the leader in that relationship.

“You defeated a trained, disciplined army?” the foxman asked in a diplomatic but doubtful tone. “Ragga, you seem to be a very strong and capable woman.” His eyes looked her up and down in a way that she found she liked, not like when other ogres did it. “But not all your fighters are as strong as you. We saw that just now.” He puffed out his chest. “Not all our warriors are as tough as me and my companions, either - but they all follow orders. In a battle, that often makes the difference between victory and defeat.”

Against her will, the Bloodlady found herself nodding along. This was an issue she had faced over and over as she worked her way from the middle of the Discontented Lands to here. Discipline among her ogres was a nightmare.

It wasn’t even only a problem during combat, when she might understand them going into a battle frenzy.

A large quantity of food and water was needed to sustain a horde this size, and when they felt even a little hunger that went unsated for a day or two, the ogres would begin to eat each other. They didn’t go after the beastfolk or humans so much, because any individual who tried to attack one of the members of those groups would be attacked, in turn, by the other beastfolk and humans. The ogres had no such group preservation instinct.

Even after Ragga explained her prohibition on cannibalism repeatedly and beat a couple of the worst offenders to death in front of the others to make an example, the behavior still persisted. Ogres listened to their stomachs before their brains, generally.

“Where your army?” she asked. “I should discuss with leader. Though I like talking to you, handsome.” She gave Andric her most charming grin that she hoped would demonstrate how attractive she was, and how fit as a mate, rather than making her look like she was going to gut him with her tusks. It was a hazard of being an ogre. “And your pretty fee-an-sess.”

“Uh, I think you mean fiancees, Bloodlady,” Andric said, returning her smile.

“Yes, that.”

“You are clearly possessed of excellent eyesight as well as leadership capabilities, Bloodlady Ragga,” Tatiana said.

The ogre smiled at that. The harpy was complimenting herself as well as Ragga, and the Bloodlady found that clever and amusing.

Then she thought for a moment. “Even if your army has discipline, and my ogres do not, I have some disciplined soldiers. Humans and beastfolk like you. Can remember orders and follow them. I do not need help for that.”

“You are still outnumbered and using bad weapons,” Andric said. He paused. “The necromancer gave me this sword, and he has powerful magic.” He raised the shiny steel sword he had with him in a clearly nonthreatening way.

Ragga tried not to look impressed. But good steel was hard to come by in the Discontented Lands. She instead focused her reply on the magical element.

“I’ve killed plenty of magic men,” she boasted.

She had, in fact, come to regret how many ogre shamans she had killed to establish her dominance over the ogre tribes, since she now had far fewer magic users at her service than she might have. But the magic men were too used to seeing themselves as leaders by virtue of their class and the favoritism of their god.

“Not like the necromancer,” Andric replied.

“His magic has matched a dragon’s strength,” said the harpy who hadn’t spoken yet. “It’s why our people followed him, even though he’s human.”

“I fight him,” Ragga proposed, a smile beginning to spread across her face. A mage who could match a dragon would certainly be a worthy ally. “Winner is leader of army. Combine forces either way.”

“That sounds good,” the foxman said quickly. Too quickly. Either he was already smitten with Ragga’s obvious charms and good looks, or he was far too confident in his leader. She would just have to prove him wrong.

“He give weapons to ogres even if he loses?” she asked firmly.

Ragga had encountered sore losers before. People who didn’t keep to their word after losing in combat. She had decided she preferred those people extra crispy. The prohibition on cannibalism was a relatively new thing, even for her.

“We control a town with a smith or two,” Andric said. “I’m sure we can have weapons made for all your ogres. We have to make sure our strongest soldiers are well equipped.”

That’s right! The strongest soldiers.

She smiled. “Excellent. Where is army?”

“Uh, a bit far away, but the necromancer will bring us there with magic.” He looked a bit nervous. Ragga guessed the prospect of traveling with magic was a little scary to the foxman. Lots of things were probably frightening to those who were not ogres. Not everyone could be as strong and fierce as Ragga.

“Good, good. You tell him to bring us soon, and he and I will fight to determine who leads who. For now—” She gave Andric a meaningful look—“you and your fiancees come into Ragga’s tent and tell her more about you.”

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!