A plan of battle

Previously: Freelance historian Esmiralda and her companions--Merrick, a member of the Ministry of Human Preservation (MOHP), Broo-Fang Tane, an Optimist Monk, and Seymuhr, a brutish but somewhat dim-witted warrior called the Skullsquasher, have received a final clue in their search for the undead witch Abilene, who once served the ancient pirate Harfigorn. They follow the Trail of the Dead to uproot her evil, once and for all, and are now planning their assault on the witch's lair...

Night fell, and I found the darkness even more terrifying. The sky was enshrouded by a thick blanket of clouds that made the valley below as black as a put. We could still hear the dead shuffling in their tireless pattern and hear the terrible, mournful sounds that gurgled forth from their ruined throats. I strained to see and thought my eyes would pop out of my skull.

"I still say we should leave, go to the nearest city and come back with an army," I hissed. "Our task seems no easier now--just the opposite."

We had stayed hidden throughout the day while Broo Fang Tane and Baram scouted for the best possible avenue of attack and that fact alone was enough to worry me. While we sought this place out, we were continually beset by the rotting dead. Now that we were so close, they ignored us? I suspected a trap, and gave voice to my fears, but my concerns were ignored by my companions.  

"She knows we're here," I reminded them.

"Think of her as an 'it,'" Merrick answered. "De-humanize the thing you fear."

"It knows we're here," I repeated. "And that did not help, at all."

"Stay close to me," Seymurh said. His voice always sounded like he spoke through an extended belch and his whisper was like the slight scrape of stick on stone. "I will keep you safe."

"I suspect I will only slow you down." At least, that's what I hoped. Our only hope at fighting our way through a battalion of biting, grasping dead things was Seymuhr. If he went down, we would be quickly overrun and torn apart. I fingered the Traveling Stone through my shirt. It was a small smooth stone the shape of an oyster that had been worn through decades, if not centuries, of use. The potent charm imbued in it would conjure a being that would transport you anywhere in Korrin, when you rubbed the stone and spoke the word. It had been given to me several years ago by a priest in exchange for a good deed. He had warned me that all magic has its limits, all tricks had their ends and advised me to use it sparingly, lest it not be functional when I truly needed it. My companions did not know I possessed it. We had been through many struggles during our short time together, but I was not ye ready to share all my secrets.

"We will go together, and watch out for each other," Merrick said, a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

I nodded.

We had decided on a three-pronged attack. Tane would slink down near the side of the mountain to the west, where he said he had discovered a very narrow and tricky crevice--perhaps the remnants of an ancient creek that had long gone dry. Seymuhr would go down the eastern slope as quietly as his short, bulky body would allow. Merrick and I would pick our way down the center of the valley, using whatever cover we could to avoid detection and destruction. Baram had simply said she would meet us near the opening and left it at that. If any of us was discovered or attacked on the way to the cave, Seymuhr would unleash his maces on the unliving enemy.

It was as good a plan as we could devise. Still my heart rattled and my chest felt tight. I gripped my knife and looked at each of my companions in turn.

"This evil has stained the land too long," Merrick reminded us. "Let us put an end to it."

The nature of peril

Previously: Freelance historian Esmiralda and her companions--Merrick, a member of the Ministry of Human Preservation (MOHP), Broo-Fang Tane, an Optimist Monk, and Seymuhr, a brutish but somewhat dim-witted warrior called the Skullsquasher, have received a final clue in their search for the undead witch Abilene, who once served the ancient pirate Harfigorn. They follow the Trail of the Dead to uproot her evil, once and for all, and are now near her lair...

I stared, willing the sight below us to change. It did not. Thousands of the creatures shuffled in bizarre, erratic pattern, like drunken guards on an unsteady bridge. The opening in the mountain looked woefully far away.

"It's an army," I breathed. Merrick grunted.

"I feel a song coming on," Seymuhr said. His raspy voice held the hint of a smile.

My jaw dropped as I looked up to him. "A song!?"

He shrugged. "It's not a very happy song." He twirled one of his maces. "I'll go first."

"You'll do nothing of the sort!" Merrick hissed. He grabbed at Seymuhr's leg to stop the fool from charging headlong into the vast army of the dead. "Even you cannot possibly fight your way that far, through so many foes. I don't care how slow they may be. We must wait."

"I do not think they...will...pause to...relieve...themselves if tha...t...is what you..............hope," Tane said.

"It is not," Merrick said. "We must use stealth. If we cannot fight our way to our destination, we must use the terrain to conceal ourselves. And the darkness."

"What dark...n..."

"The darkness that comes after the sun sets," Merrick snapped, impatiently. "We wait for nightfall. Perhaps these creatures will move slower, or be less aware of their surroundings should the mad witch be resting."

Baram nodded. "There is some wisdom there. Perhaps the night will make our task easier."

"We don't know if this witch even rests," I put in. "She's stayed alive--we can assume--for a thousand years. She is clearly beyond the needs of mere mortals. Perhaps she is continually energized by the black magic that she devoted her life to."

Merrick nodded. "Obviously she knows we are coming. How else could we explain the attacks in the forest? Still, I believe our best path to victory begins in the dead of night."

That was a poor choice of words, I didn't say. We crawled back from the lip of the valley and discussed our plan. Something was gnawing at me, some vague unsettled feeling, but I could not articulate it. I didn't know if it originated in the nature of our peril, how hopeless our task appeared to be, or something more serious. I neglected to give voice to my uncertain fear because I didn't want to earn the scorn or derision of Seymuhr. Instead, I tried to absorb some of his confidence.

We decided to seek a better route into the cave and dispatched Broo Fang Tane and Baram to find one. They could move more quickly and quietly than any of us, and we no doubt be even more effective when not encumbered by the rest of our group. Tane slipped off to the east while Baram went west--one moment she was there, giving me a nod of reassurance, and the next she was gone, swallowed by the forest she called home. I searched the trees for a glimpse of her, but could find none.

Merrick made no note of her abrupt departure. Seymuhr napped noisily nearby. I settled in to wait until darkfall.

Valley of Undeath

Previously: Freelance historian Esmiralda and her companions--Merrick, a member of the Ministry of Human Preservation (MOHP), Broo-Fang Tane, an Optimist Monk, and Seymuhr, a brutish but somewhat dim-witted warrior called the Skullsquasher, have received a final clue in their search for the undead witch Abilene, who once served the ancient pirate Harfigorn. They follow the Trail of the Dead to uproot her evil, once and for all, and are now near her lair...

We moved quickly, then, with Broo Fang Tane leading the way. Quiet as a wraith and nimble as a hare, he seemingly danced through the forest as if knew every hidden root, tangled thicket or jutting branch. Baram kept pace easily, while Merrick and I labored. My face was awash with sweat, the wind chill on my clammy skin as I helped the larger man along. His breath came in ragged gasps and his face was alarmingly red. Behind us, Seymurh moved casually, swinging his maces to dispatch the random undead thing that lurched out at us.

The land tilted up and I saw a break in the trees ahead. The mountain loomed, its face as gray as the sky. Clouds shrouded its peak, as was usually the case, but these were dark, darker than nearly any cloud I had seen before and they appeared to be creeping down the slope. Whether it was a trick of the light or because I could not keep my gaze on it long enough to gauge for certain--or risk losing my balance in the tangled undergrowth--I do not know. I could not pause long enough to get a good look and I feared that if I fell to the ground, I would fall asleep within moments. I was exhausted.

"Mira," Merrick gasped. "Go ahead without me. I'll catch up. They'll need your eyes--and your mind--soon enough. You may save them from charging forward into a grisly fate."

"Your mind is more keen than mine," I replied. "You have the knowledge needed to end this evil. Don't you?"

"I admit, I haven't thought it out. Usually, we just go places and Seymuhr hits them until they stop."

"Oh." I looked over my shoulder and Seymuhr grinned at me, holding up a mace that was foul with shattered bone and scraps of mottled skin. "Well, perhaps that will be enough this time, too." I glanced again at the impenetrable dark cloud and had my doubts.

Ahead, Tane had reached the crest of the hill. He dropped to the forest floor, where a line of shrubs hid him from view. He motioned for the rest of us to follow suit. Baram sidled up next to him and leaned against a tree and, after a moment, became very difficult to see. I scrubbed my eyes and looked in her direction once more. If I hadn't watched her stand against the trunk, I would not have know she was there. Some type of sorcery? Merrick and I crawled up to the edge and looked down as Seymuhr did the same.

"Bones of Barnok," I breathed.

For the valley below was filled with shambling, uneven mounds. Things that had once been living creatures now stumbling erratically to and fro. At first I thought it was a random sequence but I soon saw it wasn't so. They were following--or trying to follow--some sort of pattern, shuffling to the east then making a halting turn and shuffling back to their starting point, more or less. Other limped down from a dark hole near the base of the peak, carrying rocks that they dropped without paying any attention to where they landed. The creatures were patrolling, working.

"Hits them until they stop, eh?" I whispered.

"Indeed." Merrick had regained his breath and his color returned to normal. "I don't think that's going to work this time."