Two days passed, and the Grand Fort Borzol was in chaos as the news of the undead advancing towards them came. The horde of millions of undead was scary to look at as it crossed valley after valley, sweeping the lands like a flood of whiteness.
In the middle was a giant palanquin, as big as an entire room, surrounded from all sides with wooden walls and blue crystals of magic. Big strong undead coordinated while holding it on their shoulders, making as few jerks as possible.
"At this rate, they will reach us by the end of tomorrow, elder brother."
Zelfim agreed with him as they hid in the snow on a distant mountain and looked at the horde of undead moving slowly. "We must begin going south immediately. Even if I engage them in a fight, I'm not sure I can defeat that Emperor Lich without help. Nor can our people survive fighting the horde of undead."
