Sea of Death: Blade of the Flame - Book 3 by Tim Waggoner

judged the sound had come from. A group of halfling warriors wearing hunting masks and sitting astride clawfoots raced across the plains toward them, the man-sized two-legged lizards kicking up a cloud of dust as they bore their riders onward. The Talenta Plains were home to tribal halflings, fiercely proud hunters who’d domesticated the savage clawfoots, one of the breeds of giant lizards that roamed this land. For years, Karrnath had sought to extend its territory into the Plains—hence the outpost where Ghajiwas stationed. But the halflings—understandably enough—were reluctant to allow their ancestral homeland to be conquered piece by piece by the Karrnathi. Ghaji didn’t blame the halflings for their reluctance to roll over and submit to Karrnathi rule, but they didn’t pay his salary; the Karrnathi did.
    Ghaji did want to leave Kirai, but it was his duty to alert the human soldiers within the outpost. Besides, he knew from experience that the alchemist could take care of herself. Ghaji ran toward the outpost, shouting back over his shoulder, “Kirai, get the zombies ready!”
    Karrnathi zombies possessed a rudimentary intelligence that allowed them to fight with little to no instruction, but they were most effective when given specific, direct orders.
    “Arm yourselves and defend the outpost against the halflings!” Kirai commanded.
    Ghaji didn’t look back to see if the zombies obeyed her. He knew they would, for they had no choice: it was how they were made. The zombies normally carried wickedly curved scimitars and shields that they never put down, but because they’d been receiving alchemical treatment from Kirai, the undead warriors had been instructed to discard their weapons. Two dozen scimitars and an equal number of shields lay on the ground in two neat rows, precisely where the zombies had put them. Ghaji knew the animated corpses were even now moving stiffly but deliberately to reclaim their weapons to fulfill Kirai’s order. As soon as the zombies were armed once more, they would move toward the outpost as fast as their desiccated limbs would allow and engage the attacking halflings in battle.
    But Ghaji had no intention of waiting for the zombies to catch up. After all, the halflings weren’t going to rein their clawfoots to a halt and politely give the zombies a chance to reach the outpost.
    The half-orc warrior drew in a breath and bellowed in the loudest voice he was capable of. “To arms! To arms!” He hoped he’d shouted loudly enough to rouse the soldiers in the outpost. The fort grew so hot during the day that they usually left the main entrance open to permit air to flow through the tower. A necessary step to makethe atmosphere within the stifling tower walls bearable, perhaps, but one that seemed awfully foolish now. If the halflings reached the outpost’s wide-open entrance before the zombies got there, the warriors would dismount, run inside, and attack the Karrnathi soldiers with the spears they carried and which they could wield as well in close quarters as they did out in the open while seated on the backs of their clawfoot mounts. The Karrnathi were skilled fighters, but the punishing heat sapped their strength, while the halflings, being native to this region, weren’t bothered by the temperature in the least. The Karrnathi would be lethargic and clumsy, and once inside the halflings would make short work of them. But if Ghaji could reach the entrance first and seal the iron door shut …
    He ran faster.
    As he ran, he gauged the halflings’ strength. Ten riders armed with spears, each riding a clawfoot with mottled gray-green hide, a wide maw filled with sharp teeth, and a sickle-like talon on each foot that could disembowel prey as easily as a white-hot dagger could cut through lard. Clawfoots were savage beasts, but their riders controlled the animals with almost supernatural ease. Before signing on with the Karrnathi, Ghaji had heard rumors that the Talenta halflings