Hill gazed at the unbroken mountain range and sighed.
He really was less perceptive about such things than William. How had His Majesty worked out from that jumble of intelligence that the enemy was no ordinary foe?
To Hill, they looked like desperate fugitives risking everything for a few rare materials. No matter how he thought about it, he could see nothing special about them. Unless the minerals here had some unusual property he didn't know about?
But William clearly had something in mind. Yet what the hell did William know about materials?
Hill watched the Undead mages flying back and forth along one side of the mountains, loudly cursing as they went. His mouth twitched. They made a magnificent sight, like a clamorous flock of crows flying to meet the sunrise. In reality, they seemed to be covering for the Undead coming online below.
Apparently, they thought a snowbound mountain was no place for fire spells, so they hadn't used staples like Meteoric Firestorm at all. Instead, they cast wind spells downward, with the occasional snowfall thrown in. Strong winds and Blizzard?
What on earth were they playing at?
And the Ice Storm that made the Spine of the World look as though it were being torn apart was nowhere near as damaging as it appeared. They couldn't aim properly. They were simply throwing spells around.
After watching closely for a while, Hill understood why the Undead were acting this way. On the Spine of the World, their mana consumption was three times the usual rate.
Their flight looked erratic, but none dared stray too far from their guild's commander. Someone had to call out when to drink mana potions. Expecting these hotheaded people to remember the timing themselves would be asking far too much.
Even with repeated orders—and