Margaret awoke to the pale light of the shallow sun. Her back ached from sleeping on the hard ground, but she paid it no mind. Opening her eyes, she sat up, observing the surrounding area. The broken skeletons of fallen buildings jutted up into the air, casting jagged shadows in the cold sunlight. To the east of the ruined village was a great lake, spanning the horizon with dazzling splendor. An old dock sat in disrepair along the coast. The lonely road that the companions had taken continued to the heart of the village, where it diverged, forking to the south and south-east.
Around her, most of the other companions had already awakened from their slumber and were cautiously studying the area. Ro glanced about the ruins aimlessly, his eyes troubled and unfocused. He kept glancing back along the road, perhaps hoping that the missing Captain would appear. Nalgene stomped around, grumbling to himself. He too kept glancing down the abandoned road and would shoot a knowing glare at Ro whenever the draconian was not looking. Fasto was sitting on the hard ground, furiously scratching something into the earth. Margaret thought it might have been some vain attempt at a map, but it was too nonsensical to make out. SmibSmob still rested, his breath steady and even, and his pointed hat tucked firmly under his frail arm. As for Andromeda, there was no sign, but Margaret knew she would not be far.
Margaret stood up, shaking away any lingering exhaustion. She made her way over to Ro, who was gazing down the west road. Noticing her approach, Ro glanced up, a weak smile appearing on his weary face.
“Up at last, I see,” he said to her, his voice soft. “Ah, are you alright? After the battle … I didn’t know, you seemed …”
“Shhhhhh,” Margaret replied, cutting off his pathetic stammering with a finger over his lips. She looked up into his draconian eyes, leaning close and gazing into their murky depths. If he could blush, Margaret was sure he would. “I’m perfectly fine. Just a little skirmish, that’s all. No big deal.”
With that, she turned away from Ro, a sly smirk on her lips.
Idiot.
Yet as much as she would deny it, she felt her devilish arm pulse with a renewed life at the mention of the fight against the wolves, as if it were revitalized by the thought of blood.
Was it just a little skirmish?
She could not be sure.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the obnoxious voice of Nalgene behind her.
“A'ight, that’s enough o’ yer standin' around. I be thinkin' it’s about time we get movin' outta this bloody town,” the gnome said, stomping over and crossing his burly arms over his chest. “Ye hear that, ye durned dragon? I be thinkin' we should keep headin' to the east. Gotta be an end to this bloody Shadow somewhere.”
“Oh, what brilliant insight you have,” Margaret muttered, but no one noticed.
Ro turned to the gnome; his expression fierce. But instead of arguing against Nalgene, Ro merely nodded, conforming to the gnome’s wishes.
Shaking her head, Margaret let out a silent chuckle.
What a leader.
Surprised, Nalgene nodded back to the draconian, before moving off to wake his brother, once again grumbling to himself. Margaret watched him go, his blue cloak billowing out behind him like the ebb and flow of the crashing tides.
Andromeda appeared out of the streaking shadows, her visage calm and unreadable. She seemed to flow across the ground, as if she were a ghastly reaper, promising one's untimely demise. Andromeda locked eyes with Margaret, holding the orc in an iron grip, before looking away and striding over to Ro. She brushed the draconian with her tail and gave him a passing purr. Margaret saw her whisper something to Ro, saw her gave him a devious smile, her feline eyes gleaming with mischief. Deadly, cunning mischief, no doubt.
Yet still Margaret found herself trusting Andromeda.
At least she’s showing some life, right?
But her black, twisted arm pulsed ever more persistent.
The companions gathered their belongings and prepared to continue their determined journey across the barren lands. Now headed by the gnome brothers, they ventured forth on the forlorn road, heading southeast out of the fallen village. Margaret trailed the others, her mind a hurricane of flying thoughts. She brought her demonic arm up, examining its muscles. She hated it. Hated all that it signified — her years of abuse and slavery. She had to believe that. Yet as much as she resented her demonic powers, they had proven quite useful over the past few days. Obliterating undead with mighty pillars of ice was indeed satisfying. And the more she thought, the more doubtful she grew in her resolve.
“Aye, ye durned orc, are ye comin'?” Nalgene shouted, interrupting her thoughts.
Margaret dropped her arm, placing it out of sight and out of mind, or so she hoped. No matter how much she tried to hide it, it still pulsed. She hated it, right?
She glanced up to the gnome and threw him a shallow nod. Satisfied, Nalgene turned, and resumed his vigilant march out of the village.
As the companions traveled along the forsaken road, Margaret could not help glance back at the desecrated village, back at the winding shadows, back to another missed opportunity. Shrugging, she marched forward, trying to forget about the unwelcome thoughts. Yet her arm still pulsed, and she shuddered — although not from any cold.
The companions followed the abandoned road as it turned east, winding around the sprawling lake which now lay to the north. As the days passed by, another lake appeared to the south, looming over the horizon in sparkling splendor. Short, pale days weighed heavily on their shoulders, and long, unforgiving nights dashed away their hope. The lifeless lands about them expanded out in the distance, offering little reassurance that the Shadow would soon end. Doubts began to cloud the companions’ minds — doubts of abandoning the Captain, doubts that they should turn back — but they never acted upon them. They merely growled and dug their feet into the ground, pushing forward with an unshakable determination.
However, as they continued their venture east, a black, unwavering darkness appeared over the horizon ahead, looming in the far distance. This was not just the inescapable black of the night, it was somehow darker still, hovering in the distance like an ominous void, devouring any light that dared wander too closely.
As the third morning’s sun was rising into the cold sky, the forlorn road the companions were traveling upon collided with another from the west, merging into a single, dreary road and steadily winding its way forevermore east. A wispy fog had settled over the area, covering the land in a haunting haze where flickering shadows danced just out of reach. Growling, the companions pushed forward, trudging wearily to the east.
As the pale sun fell past its zenith, the fog grew ever stronger, hovering over the land in a dense blanket. Suddenly, a billowing orb of flame, identical to the one that had brought them to Captain Osann, streaked up to the sky from the near distance, piercing the gloomy fog like a holy beacon from the heavens. Margaret’s eyes shot up, and she watched the fiery majesty trek across the sky before disappearing into the cold air.
“Ahhh. See, what did I tell ye?” Nalgene started enthusiastically, his wide eyes gazing toward the area where the soaring inferno had disappeared. “There be an end to the Shadow out here. Just gotta follow the Flame, right?”
The others were quick to agree, their spirits lifted at the first sign of escape from the forsaken lands of darkness. Margaret shook her head.
“Oh great, another stroke of brilliance,” Margaret shot at Nalgene, her voice fierce. “Because following the blazing orb worked out so well for us last time.”
Nalgene shot her a hard glare, but she merely gave him a dry smile in return. The last blazing orb had led them to the Captain who had so graciously led them to the brink of death.
Idiot.
Yet protest as she might, the others were set, as unwavering as a mountain of iron. Ro gazed down the path, his shoulders high with a newfound hope. Fasto stared up in wonder, muttering something about “pretty fire” and “Fasto go.” Even SmibSmob seemed eager to find the source of the conflagration, an
d he urged the others on with a steady determination.
Idiots.
Only Andromeda seemed doubtful. But she said nothing, only narrowing her eyes and gliding across the beaten path. Sighing, Margaret followed the others into the menacing fog.
Soon after the companions resumed their journey, Margaret’s arm burst to life, pulsing wildly at her side. Glancing around warily, she knew they were being followed. Eyeing her companions, she found that they too were on edge, and were glancing at the fog in alarm. Suddenly, Nalgene let out a cry, and rushed over to the side of the dusty road. Margaret dashed over to him, clenching her fist to ease the pulsing. It did not work.
Laying prone upon the hard ground was a man, bloodied and torn, with not the faintest hint breath escaping his still lungs. Turning the body over, Margaret let out a gasp of shock.
The man was fairly built, and of average height. He had short, black hair that was matted with blood and sweat, and a short, ragged beard like a shadow over his face. Clasped firmly in his cold hands was a strange token, shaped to a cross with a billowing flame erupting from its top. But that was not what sent a wave of horror rushing through her body. Across the man’s face, like some ghastly brand from the touch of oblivion, was a thin, blistered hand print. But before she could react, before she could hope to grasp what horror had done such a gruesome deed, another sharp cry from Nalgene erupted next to her.
She heard the crashing of the hooves, the thunderous cadence of death. Suddenly, a mighty undead stallion burst forth from the thick fog, a skeleton warrior brandishing a longsword perched atop it. The stallion was vile and nightmarish, its cold, empty eyes glaring at the companions with an undying hatred. Mighty, iron hooves tore at the earth with abandon, and rippling muscles shone across the rotting body.
Margaret rushed to her feet, already raising her demonic arm. Around her, the other companions were scrambling desperately to try and regain their composure. She ignored them. Andromeda leaped from the shadows, crashing into flank of the undead stallion. She tore at the tendons with her razor claws, sinking her teeth into the beast’s neck. The skeleton tried to swing at her, tried to slash her down with its longsword, but the feline was too agile. Before the sword had even begun its descent, Andromeda had launched herself off the stallion, gracefully turning in the air. Her halberd appeared in her hand, and with terrifying strength, she cleaved the skeleton’s head clean off, sending it crashing into the dense fog. Before the head touched the ground, she faded away into the black embrace of darkness.
Margaret smiled. Even she had to applaud the feline’s prowess. But her celebration was cut short. More undead stallions thundered out of the fog, descending upon the companions, the skeletons upon their backs slashing wildly, their sword whistling through the damp air. Ro rushed up to meet them, his greatsword sweeping across, sending a spray of black blood spilling over the lands. SmibSmob and Nalgene rushed to follow suit, deadly spells of water and shadow already pouring forth from their hands. Fasto rained a hail of shining arrows down upon the unearthly horde, his face twisted in rage. Margaret felt her arm pulse.
Without hesitation she charged into the fray, a wild battle-cry bellowing from her lips. A lone undead stallion stood before her; its skeleton rider already cut down by a white arrow. Growling, she embraced her blood lust, damning herself to the will of her devilish arm.
An icy vortex rushed about her. A massive shard of ice formed in her hand, and she launched it at the undead stallion, burying it in the rotting hide. Her mouth opened wide, her sharp teeth gleaming for blood, she charged at the stallion. Her demonic arm crashed into the beast’s chest, shattering bone and sending a spray of dark blood raining over her. The abomination raised its mighty hooves, kicking forward with terrifying power. As the iron hooves cut through the air, Margaret darted to the side. Whipping around, her black arm rammed into the flank of the stallion, sending it staggering back from the weight of the blow. Reaching out, she buried her hand into the rotting hide of the beast, and with a feral roar, she unleashed a wave of piercing cold that froze the side of the stallion in a sheet of crystalline ice.
The stallion’s head whipped over to her, its empty eyes locking upon her twisted arm. Margaret smiled. With a devilish chuckle, she tightened her muscles, exploding forward with destructive force, shattering the frozen flesh of the stallion and sending a shower of shining shards and oozing blood out like a gruesome nova of death.
Her eyes gleaming wildly, she punched through the stallion’s chest, tearing out the abomination's blackened heart. She felt her teeth bury into its dead muscle, felt the river of thick blood rush down her throat in a delightful waterfall of ecstasy.
One down.
Two more undead stallions appeared around her, their skeleton riders looming over her. Margaret let out a cry of glee. She raised her demonic fist, a swirling vortex of ice forming around it.
But before she could attack, before she could unleash a destructive torrent of ice upon the nightmarish creatures, a searing pain jolted across the back of her neck. A shrill cry escaped her lips. The pulsing of her black arm stopped, and the swirling ice about her fell crashing to the ground. Her mind grew weary, and a black haze swept over her. As she fell to the ground, she was able to make out the slim figure of a zombie through the foggy haze. A ragged cloak hung torn over its rotting body, giving it a spectral appearance. Its hand was raised, and wispy strands of frost emanated from its pale palm.
Everything went black.
Chapter 6
An agonizing scream penetrated Ro’s ears, and his head shot around in a vain attempt to find the source through the dense fog. Even his sharp, draconian eyes had little success in the haze.
No! What happened?
A rush of adrenaline surged through his veins, and his blood boiled in an urge to protect his friends.
His eyes darted about, searching for his companions. Torrents of water and shadow still rained destructive downpours upon the legion of undead stallions. A white arrow whistled past his ear, thudding into the skull of an approaching skeleton, sending it crumbling to the cold ground. Of Margaret or Andromeda, he saw no sign. His breath caught in his throat, and his noble heart stood silent for a moment.
No! Where are they!?
His mind swirled like the heavy fog about him. Raising his mighty greatsword out in a guard, he tensed his corded muscles, preparing to charge into the unknown beyond the foggy barrier. He did not know from where the scream had come, but it did not matter. All that mattered was he had to save his companion. Images of a broken Andromeda splayed across the ground darted through his thoughts, only to be matched by horrific images of a fallen Margaret being devoured by the vicious undead. Ro faltered, doubt crashing down upon his burly shoulders and sending his hopes dashed to the ground.
NO! I must save them!
But before he could regain his composure, before he could cast away the shackles of doubt, an undead stallion rammed him in the side, sending him flying back, his breath blasted from his lungs. As he lay panting on the ground, the decrepit stallion reared up, its iron hooves shining like twin blades of death, and with a terrifying force, the stallion stomped upon Ro’s wrist, the menacing hooves shattering his scaled hand.
A searing pain burned through Ro’s broken hand, sending him reeling back in anguish. A black daze washed over his vision, and he let out a billowing cry. Through his wavering gaze he saw the nightmarish stallion rear once more, its deadly hooves targeted on his head. A skeleton warrior rode upon its back, its empty eyes mocking his helplessness. Ro’s hand seared, but it seemed distant.
No, I can’t die like this. I have to save my companions. I have to save …
A mighty bolt of fiery lightning shot from his maw, slamming into the stallion with a shower of blue sparks. Growling his pain away, Ro shot to his feet, his determination burning like a rekindled flame. His pain was nothing to him. Only the pain of his companions mattered. He would withstand the full might of oblivion before he let one of his compa
nions fall into the black clutches of death. His mind swirled with rage. He wished he could take the injuries and exhaustion of the others upon himself, but he knew it to be a hopeless dream. His shattered hand still sent waves of crippling pain washing over him. But it would be nothing to the pain he would feel if one of his companions, nay, his friends, were to succumb to the Shadow.
With his mighty greatsword now rendered useless by his broken hand, Ro let it fall to the ground, and unsheathed his shining longsword. He had no defense; only his instincts and raging fury could protect him from the reaching claws of doom. Roaring, Ro charged at the stallion, another strike of lighting shooting forth from his open maw, crashing into the stallion and driving it back. The undead stallion reared back in rage, its empty eyes glaring down upon Ro with hatred. He did not care. His thoughts were only for his companions. Whirling around, his longsword darted out, slashing at the mighty chest of the beast. A torrent of black blood sprayed out of the wound, but the creature seemed not to notice.
Behind Ro, another menacing stallion charged out of the surrounding fog, a skeleton warrior perched upon its rotting back. With a sickening crack, the second stallion slammed into Ro, sending him crashing hard to the ground, his breath blasted from his lungs. His shining sword soared from his hand, disappearing into the swirling fog. Ro groveled on the ground, his breath coming into short gasps. A searing pain erupted from his chest with every strained breath. His ribs were fractured. He reached around and grabbed his shield from his back in a desperate attempt to defend himself, but it was kicked from his hand. He had nothing — no sword, no shield and no breath. All that remained was a burning determination to save his friends.
Coughing up blood, Ro glanced up to the dark sky. Above him, the two stallions reared, their iron hooves cutting through the air, and their skeleton riders glaring down upon him. Behind the undead beasts, Ro saw his mighty greatsword lying upon the ground, its edge calling out to him, shining like the last flicker of hope. He coughed up another shower of thick blood.
A Land in Shadow Page 12