“We can’t trust the Captain, but we can trust Nalgene, and I’d much appreciate it if we were to leave the Captain behind,” she declared, turning to face the others. “So, to the east, shall we?”
With that, Andromeda strode away, making not a sound as she crossed the cold, hard ground. Her figure slowly faded away into the dark clutches of the night, like some wavering mirage in the hot desert sun. Her halberd appeared in her hand, and she gave Ro one last encouraging nod before disappearing from the flickering light.
The companions stood silently for a moment, each one measuring Andromeda’s words. Ro was silent. Margaret gazed at the place where Andromeda had disappeared, her mind whirling about in a frenzy.
The grim silence was broken by the obnoxious laughing of Nalgene.
“Bwahahaha," he boomed. "Durned cat’s got the right idea. To the east.”
After a brief pause, Ro relented, giving Nalgene a nod of agreement.
“To the east,” he echoed softly. His shoulders hung limp, and his eyes studied the ground, defeated. He clenched his fists in frustration, but he knew he had lost. He had to accept the reality.
Margaret could not help but to let out another silent chuckle.
What a leader.
After the companions gathered their wits and their belongings, they set off eastward, fighting past their mounting exhaustion. The companions followed Ro silently down the abandoned road, not even Nalgene daring to break the looming silence. The barren plains stretched out for eternity, offering no escape from their grim fate. Above them, the starless sky gazed down at them in its empty life, devoid of any light. As they followed the fork east, the unnatural growls and sounds of the undead began to drift through. But whether it was their imagination or reality, they knew not.
Andromeda had reunited with them, appearing out of the hazy shadows to stalk at the back of the tightly huddled group. Her eyes darted around, and her ears twitched nervously. Margaret tried not to notice her. Nalgene and SmibSmob hovered behind the draconian, enjoying each other's promise of protection. Even Nalgene dared not travel alone in such forsaken lands. Fasto wandered about near Margaret, aimlessly following the torch in front of him. He kept giving her sideways glances, and would try to tell her of their friendship, but Margaret coldly ignored him.
As the night dragged on, there was no sign of Captain Osann — only the howl of the mournful wind and the ghastly growls from the shadows. The companions' resolve grew weary, and the blanket of exhaustion loomed over them. Margaret’s vision grew hazy, and her feet drug in the dirt behind her. But with the grumbling growls off in the darkness, and that was enough to keep her awake. She glanced around at her companions, who were similarly stumbling around, only to be reminded of the ever-present danger of the Shadow.
Suddenly, a sharp cry howled from Fasto. Immediately, Margaret’s clarity returned, her blood pounding through her veins. The demonic arm at her side burst forth with a new life, and an icy chill surged from its black depths. Whipping her head around, she saw Fasto fall to the ground, a dark shape tearing into his flesh.
The creature was a nightmarish parody of a wolf. Its wide jaws hung open, displaying rows of yellow teeth. Rotting flesh hung loose from its body, and bones stuck out at unnatural angles. Sharp claws jutted out from its paws, tearing into the orc, drawing crimson lines of blood.
With the scent of blood filling the air, the undead wolf’s empty eyes flared with an unholy fire. Raising its head, it released a bone-chilling howl from its maw. The high-pitched howl was twisted and unnatural, cutting through the air with an awful shriek, and cutting deep into Margaret’s ears, driving her back in pain.
Nearby, another dreadful howl answered, and then another. Howls cried out from the shadows until the screeching of undead wolves echoed from every angle. Margaret whirled about, trying to find the nearby creatures, but her eyes could not pierce the impenetrable blackness. The others tried to enter some formation against the oncoming pack. Nalgene had blasted the wolf off Fasto and was busy washing away the injuries. SmibSmob looked around, and a crooked smile appeared on his face. He raised his hands, summoning up mighty orbs of shadow, the swirling void in their depths matching the surrounding darkness. Ro drew his longsword, its shining edge flickering in the torchlight. Andromeda was nowhere to be seen.
Suddenly, one of the howls was cut short, its screeching call ending with an abrupt yelp followed by silence. Andromeda rushed out of the shadows, black blood covering her snarling jaws. With a hiss, she lunged back into the darkness, her halberd appearing in her delicate hand. Ro let out a cry of alarm, and before Margaret could react, the pack was upon them.
Dozens of bloodthirsty undead wolves charged into the light, eager for a feast. Margaret whirled about, her demonic arm pulsing with a renewed determination. Without thinking, she swung her arm around, connecting with the jaws of an undead wolf. With a destructive blast of ice, the pitiful creature was sent sprawling, its head a shattered mass of gore and ice. Margaret knew there was no controlling her arm, knew there was no trying to hold it back. Growling, she embraced the blood lust, leaping into the oncoming wave of twisted wolves.
A vortex of ice formed about her, piercing any creature that dared wander to close with razor shards of chilling ice. Margaret locked her eyes on a wolf, her gentle face curled back in a snarl. Letting out a roar, she rushed over to the wolf, raising her arms up. She felt the satisfying crunch as her fist crushed the wolves rotting skull, felt the oozing embrace as the creature’s lifeblood splattered across her face, giving her a frenzied appearance. Half a dozen wolves surrounded her, eager to avenge their fallen member, but she did not care. She smiled and licked her lips, letting the vile taste of the wolf’s blood wash over her tongue.
She loved it.
More enemies, more fun, right?
With an incomprehensible battle-cry, she charged at the surrounding wolves. A massive spike of ice formed in her black fist, and with terrifying force, she launched it at the first wolf, sending it flying back with a pathetic squeal. Margaret’s eyes gleamed murderously.
One down. Five to go.
The other undead wolves dashed about her, trying to get around her destructive fist of ice. They darted in and out, trying to sink their rotting claws into her soft flesh. One crashed into her back, but she shrugged it off, her shining plate mail shielding her from injury. Another lunged for her side, but with surprising speed, she drove her fist down upon the wolf's skull, crushing the creature's head into the ground. A wave of black blood and oozing pus splattered out, covering the surrounding area in gore. Margaret almost laughed in delight.
Two down. Four to go.
The other wolves snarled at her, and she snarled right back. Lifting her demonic fist to her mouth, she licked off the thick, tainted blood. A rush of energy crashed over her as the blood flowed down her throat. A wild laugh escaped her lips, and her face twisted with a crazed pleasure.
I need more!
She danced with the wolves, deflecting their attacks with a wave of her fist. Shards of ice pierced the rotting hides of the wolves, but they did not seem to notice. They only had one focus. Her. One of the wolves pounced, its open jaw targeted on her exposed neck. Undeterred, Margaret raised her black fist into the air, calling forth a mighty spear of ice from the earth. The freezing stake shot into the wolf's skull, holding it in place above the ground, suspended by its shattered jaw. The wolf tried to escape, tried to dislodge itself from the icy spike piercing its head, but Margaret abruptly ended its whimpering, crushing its life with a swing of her black fist.
Three down. Only three more.
Margaret let out a maniacal cackle, and her ruby eyes gleamed like those of some monstrous devil. An icy chill surged from her body, casting frost upon the surrounding ground.
The companions were driving the nightmarish pack back. Nalgene and SmibSmob made short work of the twisted creatures, damning them into the unforgiving clutches of oblivion with a tantalizing dance of water and shadow. N
algene kept himself under control, but SmibSmob next to him cared little for the others' well-being, unleashing mighty orbs of darkness wherever he pleased. Fasto and Ro fought together, the draconian holding up the torch like a flickering beacon and slashing at any wolves that ventured too near with his shining longsword. Blood stained the once-pure blade. Fasto rained down a hail of arrows, piercing the undead creatures with an accuracy matched only by his titanic stupidity. Andromeda faded in and out of the shadows, bringing a score of undead wolves to silence from within their comfort of night. She was silent. She was deadly. And she was a killer.
Margaret snarled, charging at the remaining three abominations in her wake. She brought her demonic arm to bear in front of her. Another deadly shard of ice shot forth from her fist, but the wolves darted to the side, avoiding a fatal blow. The three undead wolves surrounded her. With a guttural growl, they pounced. Margaret whipped around, trying to deflect the attacking wolves. Her fist connected with one, sending it crashing out of the air. Another landed upon her back, futility trying to rip through her mighty plate mail with its vicious claws. With a growl, she reached behind her, clutching the wolf's maw and whipping it down to the ground in front of her.
The third leaped for her side, but she twisted out of the way, only to lunge out and grab the undead wolf with her black fist while it was still pouncing through the air. With a diabolical laugh, Margaret clenched her fist, and dozens of shards of ice rushed into the wolf, piercing it with needles of death. Still laughing, she brought the wolf up to her mouth, tearing off a chunk of its rotting flesh with her sharp teeth. Dark blood oozed down her face, matched only by the color of her shining eyes. She felt alive. Tossing aside the carcass, Margaret turned back to the other undead wolves.
Four down. Only two remain.
Wispy strands of frost began to emanate from her body, giving her the appearance of a shimmering specter. Her gaze darted around in a frantic search for blood. Licking her lips, she charged at the undead creatures.
The remaining two wolves danced around her, desperately trying to land a single blow. Their claws slid off her impenetrable plate mail with a piercing screech, and their open maws were met by devastating fists of ice. One of the wolves darted for her legs, trying to tear apart her tendons. Margaret kicked it away, sending it sprawling into the nearby ground with a sickening crunch of bones. The other leaped for her face, its jaw hung wide. Margaret saw its empty eyes, saw its rotting tongue flail from the side of its mouth. She gave a crooked smile. Shooting forward, she clamped the undead wolf’s maw shut with her black fist. Locking onto its eyes, she slowly began to emit a deathly chill from her fist, steadily freezing the abomination. She wanted to see it struggle, wanted to see its last moments of despair as the icy touch of frost overcame its body.
With a bloodthirsty roar, she smashed the frozen wolf into the ground, sending tiny shards of the fractured being raining down upon the battlefield. She let out a cry of ecstasy, her mind rushing with delight.
Five down. Only one left.
The aura of frost about her burst out from her with a violent nova of ice. Around her, the very earth was succumbing to her icy presence, the air biting with a murderous chill. She felt alive. Her eyes flared to life with an icy flame. The darkness from her demonic arm started to spread across her body, its black tendrils reaching out to corrupt her. She let out another diabolical laugh, turning to face the remaining wolf.
The remaining wolf was back on its feet, oblivious to the shattered ribs that now hung from its rotting flank. It growled, and Margaret matched it, raising her devilish fist to finish the fight. Suddenly, a white arrow whistled past her ear, sinking into shoulder of the creature. Caught off guard, Margaret glanced to the side in surprise. Realizing her mistake, she whipped her head back around, her black fist rising in front of her as a mighty ice spear formed within her iron grasp. But it was too late. The undead wolf landed upon her chest; its twisted maw hot by her face. Margaret felt the wretched claws dig into her neck, felt her blood flow from the wound.
Her mind fell apart. All thoughts of her demonic arm, her icy shard, and the other companions crumbled away into oblivion. She felt the claws piercing her flesh, felt the hot blood ooze out of her neck. A furious haze grew over the edges of her mind, and her eyes grew cold and distant. She felt the rotting claws rend across her flesh, felt her blood flow across her body. Her face twisted into a ferocious snarl, and a wild growl erupted from deep within. She felt the wolf tearing its claws into her flesh. The building vortex of ice disappeared around her. Everything fell away, she had only one focus.
The wolf.
Letting out a terrifying roar, she tore the creature off her, whipping it down into the ground.
The wolf.
She leaped atop the wolf, unleashing a barrage of punches onto its skull.
The wolf.
The wolf’s bones shattered under the furious assault, releasing a spray of thick blood upon Margaret, but she did not relent. Raising her black fist, she smashed it down upon the wolf with a devastating shock wave of ice.
The wolf.
Berserk, she pummeled where the wolf once was, sending massive shards of ice crashing into the hard ground. There was shouting behind her, but she ignored it. It was not important.
The wolf.
Her body grew weary, yet still she pounded upon the bloody pulp of bile and gore that was once the wolf. Her hands shattered upon the unforgiving ground, but that only reinforced her frenzy.
The wolf.
Blood covered her form, masking her in a coat of thick gore. She felt hands upon her, trying to pull her away from the unrecognizable carcass, but she shrugged them off. She only had one focus.
The wolf.
Suddenly, a surge of cooling water washed over her. Immediately her clarity returned, and she fell back, exhausted. The thick blood washed away, the torn flesh of her neck wove itself back together, and her shattered knuckles reformed with an iron strength. The haze faded, and her thoughts came rushing back in a torrent. Her black arm pulsed, but it was slower, more controlled than before. Glancing up, she saw Nalgene hovering over her, his rough hands planted firmly on her chest. The others stood behind him, looking down upon her with unease. Ro was trying to speak to her, but she ignored him.
Idiots.
Letting out a sigh, Margaret pushed herself to her feet, and shook herself off. Around her, the night still loomed in, a black wall of darkness that they dared not pass. Corpses of the fallen wolves littered the area, their putrid blood spilling across the land. Below Margaret lay a battered pulp, its original form unrecognizable. Tiny shards of bone and bits of rotting flesh dotted the area like the gruesome petals of flowers. Margaret shook her head in disappointment. She knew what she had done.
Turning away from the carnage, she met Ro’s eyes. She gave him a weak smile and moved to approach him.
“Are you alright?” Ro said chivalrously, his face dripping with concern. He glanced at the bloody pulp behind her, and then warily met her eyes once again. “Ah, you … I’m glad you’re alright.”
Margaret chuckled silently to herself.
What a leader.
The companions resumed their journey east, their weariness creeping back upon them after the rush of battle. As the night dragged on, the torch’s light slowly faded, and the menacing tendrils of shadow slowly clawed their way back to haunt the companions. Yet still they marched on, the unknown landscape moving past them in the thick darkness. Margaret no longer cared for the lingering dread hovering about them. All she wanted was to rest, to embrace the cool touch of slumber. And the intensity of the fight against the pack of undead wolves weighed heavily upon her slim shoulders, dragging her feet down into the cold ground.
There was no sign of Captain Osann.
As the night wore on, and the torch grew dim, the companions found themselves among the ruins of a small village along the dusty road. Fallen buildings and desecrated structures littered the area, looking over the com
panions from the edge of the flickering torch-light in a silent vigil, mourning the loss of life. Eerie shadows darted among the rubble, but the weary companions cared not. Exhausted, they collapsed to the ground, and let the rushing tide of sleep wash over them, praying that the creatures of the Shadow would not happen upon them in the darkness.
As the others laid down to rest, Margaret found herself gazing up at the moonless night sky, lost in thought. She brought her twisted arm out in front of her and studied its winding black muscles. She felt its relentless pulsing, and her mind was thrown back across the days. She thought of the prison, and the long two years they spent locked away there, the long two years without the dreadful pulsing. And how free she had felt without her demonic companion. But that was no more, and now here she was, lost in the great abyss of the Shadow. She thought of her companions, who she insisted on not caring for, however empty that promise was.
Idiots. Why am I still here? I could leave them, and finally pursue my freedom. But … I cannot. Why not? They won’t even notice that I’m gone.
She had no answers. Margaret tried to think back to before the prison, but all she found was a hazy mist, taunting her with lost memories. She remembered her childhood, her slavery, and her … best not to think about it. But from there it was forgotten, stolen by the clutches of time. Her brow furrowed, and a feral growl escaped her lips.
She remembered her twisted childhood, her escape from slavery, and her exile into the vast world. She remembered a strange man with a billowing blue cape, approaching her with a marvelous hammer raised high …
She tried to push past the mist, tried to break through the restricting barrier, but it threw her away, forever guarding its secrets. Those were mysteries to be kept until another night.
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