Zombies Sold Separately

SIXTEEN



Amory’s dress tunic scratched his skin as he pulled it over his head and tugged it down. He would need his seamstress to make him something more comfortable than what she had put together to fit his new form.

The Sorcerer’s old body had been thin and frail, his joints aching with pain. His clothing had hung on him like sails without wind drooping from their riggings. His once long, vibrant red hair had turned mostly gray and brittle many, many years ago.

Now what he dressed in fit him well and showed the physical power of his new form. Magic remained in his gaze, even though his eyes were now the color of ironwood. The eyes of his old body had been the shade of the early morning sky, somewhere between gray and blue.

A low murmur of countless voices was like an oncoming storm. Amory strode from his bedroom suite in the manor and up the sweeping staircase. The sound of a mass number of voices grew louder.

He and his people had left Kerra behind over twenty years ago to take over this Doran Otherworld. No matter its beauty, Doran had turned out to be as cruel to them as their homeworld.

As he took the steps at a jog, Amory felt a confidence and power within him that he had not felt since the old days when Kerra was still home and his rule encompassed millions.

When Kerra started to die, so did his people. He had been forced to search for options. Ways to save and preserve his people while at the same time looking for a new homeworld.

He’d started with the original Otherworld. The one that fathered all of the others.

It did not take Amory and his advisors long to discover that it was not the place for him or his people. Doran had seemed the better choice at the time so they’d abandoned their assault.

He’d been wrong though. Doran ultimately was not compatible for them.

Amory gritted his teeth as he took the third flight of stairs. Twenty-two years—twenty-two years—and he had finally found the right place for himself and his people. The perfect environment, the perfect Hosts.

Earth Otherworld.

The bodies from the Earth Otherworld were strong, healthy, the world hospitable to his people.

Amory reached the highest floor of the manor. Thousands and thousands of voices were louder now. A low roar of people gathered together.

To see him. To hear his voice. To know that they were saved.

Amory cloaked himself with magic as he strode from the stairs. He crossed the open room toward the glass-paned, arched double doors that were between him and the balcony, and his people.

He didn’t pause. He gave a slight flick of his fingers and the doors swung open, thumping hard against the walls to either side of the archway. Loud, expectant gasps came from those who waited.

The gloriously almost clear sky was blue with a hint of lavender. It was the element that created the lavender in the atmosphere that was so deadly to his people. Faint clouds streaked the sky like a brush had painted a few opaque strokes of white.

He looked from the sky endlessly stretched out above to the thousands of his people below.

The Sorcerer dropped his cloak of magic.

More gasps and murmurs. Most had not seen him since he had traded his old body for this one. But even with this different face, they would know it was him.

The Sorcerer raised his hands and shouted out great words of magic, strong words, powerful words, words that no one but he and other Sorcerers could understand.

Once-clear lavender-streaked skies turned dark and black thunderheads rolled in, forming from what had been misty threads of white. The smell of rain and sulfur rode the winds that now pressed his tunic against his body, outlining every muscle from his broad chest to his tapered waist and strong thighs and legs.

His people gave cries of shock and fear as lightning crashed to the ground from the clouds. Thunder pounded the air, the sound as loud as if the shafts of lightning were living stakes being driven by great hammers into the ground.

Men and women, their bodies in different stages of deterioration, cowed as he lowered his hands.

“It is I, the Sorcerer Amory, Lord of the Kerra and Doran Otherworlds.” The roar of his voice carried over the sound of thunder. “You do not recognize this body as it is new, but you recognize me.”

When he felt he had adequately proven himself to be the Sorcerer Amory, he let the clouds drift away, allowing the sky to lighten to its deadly lavender tint as it had been.

Every person in the crowd was quiet and he nodded his approval. “Good. You have come as expected. Those who continue to follow my rule will be rewarded well.”

Silence continued to reign when he was not speaking. “As I told you the last time we gathered, we have discovered an Otherworld that suits our needs and more.

“We sent in our reconnaissance teams, then began our experiments.” His gaze roved over the throng of people. “It is working.” He let his words ring out so that they could be heard by every male and female standing before him.

Hope lit their features at his statement, but still they made no sound.

“I alone know what must be done,” Amory continued. “I have perfected it.

“Each of you must now begin your preparation as you did when we left Kerra for Doran.” The Sorcerer let urgency fill his command. “We must speed up the exchange, must step up more quickly.”

Men and women looked from one to another and a slow murmur began to travel throughout the crowd. A murmur of excitement filled with hope for better days to come.

“Our plan is coming together.” The Sorcerer leaned forward and gripped the rough stone surface of the balcony. “The people of the Earth Otherworld will not understand until it is too late for them. It will no longer be their world … it will be ours.”