Lich

Before  the  woodcutter  could  strike,  Garth  swirled a  black  cocoon  of  pure  mana  before  him  and  snapped it  like  a  stick.  Immediately  before  him,  as  if  spun  from the  black  cloud,  stood  a  lich,  a  wizard  long  dead,  so wasted  only  knots  and  strings  of  muscle  still  clung  to its  moldering  bones.  It  wore  a  long  blue  robe,  surprisingly supple  and  clean,  that  rippled  in  the  torchlight like  an  ocean  swell.  The  thing  raised  a  green  withered hand  spotted  with  cankers  and  rot,  conjured  a  fireball of  a  sickly  green.

But  whatever  spell  it  sought  to  spin  went  unfinished. Greensleeves  touched  a  spiderweb  at  her shawl,  pointed  a  finger,  and  the  fireball  evaporated  in a  yellow-green  cloud.

Gull  never  even  slowed.  Hunching  his  shoulders, fury  adding  to  his  strength,  he  swept  the  axe  in  a  glittering arc  that  sheared  the  undead  wizard  in  two.  A snapping  like  kindling,  a  surprised  squeak  like  a trapped  rat's,  and  the  thing  collapsed  into  a  heap  of shimmery  blue  cloth  and  bones.

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Shattered Chains, Chapter 20