"Did she now?" says Zhan-Ukhel. "That cunning she-devil is more perceptive than I supposed. Well, you're right, of course. The reason I am here is to consume spirits.
"To work magic, one must have a source of power," he continues. "Shamans might use dried herbs, but that is a pitiful substitute for the raw essence of the spirit world. Through the abilities I have been given, I can consume the beings that live here and use their energy to my own ends."
"And how will that help you in a battle?" you ask.
"I can boil a man's blood and crush his bones with merely a thought," the sorcerer replies, "but the true power of my magic lies in its ability to rouse those around me and bind them to my will. Legends of my power spread, and the warriors of the steppe flock to fight at my side. Such an army is unstoppable, Basileios, as your father and his friends are about to discover. When the battle is done, their bodies will litter the ground in such abundance that the sky will grow dark with crows come to feast on their flesh."