"How much further?" asked Horace, for what seemed like the thousandth time. Urt had allowed him out of his bag once they''d turned towards Banesville, and he''d taken the opportunity to talk almost the entire way.

    "I told you, I don''t know exactly," Reginald replied.

    "But you worked in Banesville, so you said," the zombie head repeated.

    "No, I said I worked near Banesville, and when I went there, and left too, it wasn''t via this route. Plus it was quite a few years ago now. Things change. What''s your hurry anyway?"

    "I''m interested to see it is all," Horace grumbled.

    "As much as I hate to agree with Horace, we may have to make camp soon if we don''t look like we''re getting there," Urt said.

    The group had been heading west for most of the day, along the narrow but clear track, which led through flat, untouched moorland, and the sun was now beginning to sink towards the horizon.

    "There''s some kind of woodland ahead," Reginald pointed out. "Maybe we could make camp in there."

    Indeed there was woodland ahead, and dense woodland at that. The treeline stretched left and right as far as Urt could see in the fading light. The path went straight on, disappearing into it.

    "I..." he began, but was cut off my Reginald.

    "Movement. Something''s coming."

    "Zombies!" exclaimed Reginald. "Lots of them!"

    Indeed there was. Initially a few, then a dozen, and then a veritable horde slowly emerged from the cover of the trees. Whilst zombie expressions didn''t usually give their intent away, it was generally a moot point, as it was normally to scoop out your brain and use it for lunch, or possibly dinner at this time of day.

    Reginald looked over at Urt as the horde shambled closer. "This is your area, aren''t you going to do something?"

    Urt just nodded. "Remain calm," he said, rolling up his sleeves. "I''ve got this."

    Even so, Reginald became decidedly more twitchy as the undead masses lurched closer.

    "Patience," Urt admonished, when the were-sheep made another noise.

    Finally, as the lead zombies were close enough to start seriously spooking the horses, Urt stood up in his stirrups.

    A dark haze formed around both hands as he held them up, palms out. With a sweeping gesture that encompassed the entire horde, he Spake a Word. The command reverberated off the trees, echoing over the massed zombies.

    As one the horde stopped, and in one unified voice spoke. "Master," they said.

    "Oh I say! Your first real and proper maniacal laugh boss!" exclaimed Horace. "That is truly how an evil necromancer should be. If only your old master was here to see that."

    Urt nodded and grinned to himself. He lowered his arms and surveyed his new army. This was how it should be! There weren''t enough for world domination here for sure, but there were enough to make a start.

    His newfound plans of conquest were interrupted by an agitated voice.

    "I say! You there! I say there! You! What do you think you''re doing?"

    Urt looked over, to see a tall, thin, black robed figure striding angrily towards them, threading his way through the now stationary undead army.

    "Hello," Urt said.

    "Don''t you hello me! What''s the meaning of this? Put them back at once!" The necromancer, for that was what he could only be, wagged a finger up at Urt as he approached his horse.

    "Won''t. They''re mine now." Urt crossed his arms.

    "Put them back right now I say!" the dark wizards said, spittle flying from his lips. "This is the Banesville outer defence force."

    "Not a very effective one," Urt replied.

    "Wha...? It is! Of course it is. You can''t turn all of... I mean..." he trailed off before starting again. "Just put them back. Right now! Or there will be trouble." He crossed his arms and tapped his foot.

    "What if I don''t want to?" Urt pouted.

    "Er, Urt, may I have a word?" Reginald interjected.

    "Fine." Urt looked at the man. "Please excuse me for a moment. I am going to confer with my advisors," he said haughtily.

    The other necromancer made a "Hmph," sound but gave a quick nod.

    Turning his horse around, Urt rode a short distance away, to where Reginald was waiting, Lucy and Horace nearby.

    "I think you should return them," the were-sheep said.

    "What? No!" Urt responded. "They''re mine now. Turnus keepus and all that. I can start my takeover of the world! I''ve always fancied that you know."

    "Great idea boss!" Horace chirped up.

    "Quiet you," Reginald said, before addressing Urt again. "Fine, but what are you going to do with them? Remember, we''re going to Banesville, a town that, unless I''m misremembering very much, is full of necromancers. How successful is a zombie horde going to be invading a town full of death wizards?"

    Urt nodded slowly. "Mmm. I suppose you may have a point," he conceded. He''d been so full of having a zombie army, he hadn''t really thought it through. "But I could leave them here," he added.

    "And what? No one''s going to notice they''ve lost control of their defence perimeter? You can''t just steal an army and hope people won''t catch on you know. Word about this sort of thing gets out quickly."

    "Bah." Urt scowled. "Fine." He paused as a thought struck. "Well, maybe there''s another option."

    Before Reginald could say anything further, Urt turned his horse around again and made his way back to the scowling necromancer.

    "So," he said, leaning on his pommel. "What do you want again?"

    "Give them back!" the man repeated. "They were on patrol. You should know this if you''ve been here before."

    "Sorry, my first time visiting," said Urt. He looked up at the horde. "All of you," he shouted. "Back to what you were doing."

    Slowly, the army turned and shambled back into the woods.

    "There," said the necromancer. "That wasn''t so hard was it?"

    "Sorry," said Urt again, trying to sound like he meant it. "So, how far''s Banesville then?"

    "It''s about half an hour on horseback. Just go straight through the woods," replied the necromancer.

    "Thanks." Urt kicked his horse into motion. "Apologies again about the confusion," he shouted back, as Reginald and Lucy, with Horace, trotted after him.

    "See? It pays to be nice sometimes," Reginald said.

    Urt merely smiled knowingly by way of reply.