Magnus rubbed his thumb over the wax seal and stared at the unopened letter. The small bit of parchment the courier had given him sent a spike of panic through him. The joy he felt from watching Beltayne be thoroughly humbled, as well as the festivities that came after, had vanished entirely. Magnus had completely forgotten writing to his master about the temple and library he and his companions had discovered. So much had happened since he hastily scribbled the brief account. He held little hope that Thefolocious would shower the dwarf with praise.
Magnus stuffed the letter into his satchel and took a large, but graceful, gulp of wine. He would not let the transported words of Thefolocious, written hundreds of miles away, ruin the day here and now. Magnar peered around the large room within the heart of Mariner's Keep. What was a dueling stage mere moments ago, had quickly been transformed into a mid-day gathering of societal elite. Men and women dressed in fine colorful silks and velvets laughed together while sipping Solmaran red wine. Banquet tables overflowing with smoked fish, fresh fruit, roasted vegetables and pastries now lined the walls. Soft music quietly filled the room as servants silently patrolled, refilling glasses and replacing empty platters.
Magnus had been to several such gatherings, accompanying his master as he played politics with the rich and powerful in Eldrin City. The warmth of the fires, partnered with the slight intoxication he was feeling from the wine, let Magnus feel at ease, something that he had not felt in quite some time. Magnus looked around the room, watching his companions curiously. Val, unsurprisingly, was surrounded by a group of children with whom she was entertaining with songs and tales. Kel'dhos was eating nervously with his back against a wall, avoiding eye contact with anyone. Magnar was surprisingly absent, he would have thought his brother would have been several mugs deep in free ale by now.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” Telerek asked quietly behind Magnus, causing the dwarf to bristle and nearly spill his wine.
“What have I told you about sneaking up on me?” Magnus snapped at the elf.
Telerek just smiled and said “I know, but I couldn't help myself. You haven't by chance seen my uncle, have you? He usually wouldn't miss an affair such as this.”
“Surprisingly, no. I haven’t seen Varloc since we left his manor,” Magnus responded, thinking of how long ago that felt.
“Hmmm, I am sure he is just waiting for a chance to make a grand entrance,” Telerek said, spearing a piece of fruit with a dagger and bringing it to his mouth.
Magnus took another sip of wine and savored the mellow bitterness as it floated down his throat. A loud applause from an alcove on the other end of the room drew both Magnus and Telerek's attention. Highwarden Blacktide was standing next to a tall, slim man with tan skin, black hair and an even blacker cloak. The man was holding a bow that was almost as tall as he was. A second man, wearing a green velvet doublet and a yellow sash around his waist, was standing close by speaking with Blacktide. All three were surrounded by a small crowd of onlookers.
“Interesting,” Telerek said and walked towards the group, sheathing his dagger. Magnus shrugged and followed the elf. As they were approaching, the black-clad man took a large arrow, knocked it and drew the gigantic bowstring back in a single effortless motion. He then let the arrow fly down a corridor and the sound of metal on metal echoed throughout the large room. The crowd applauded again and the man gave a low bow.
Telerek and Magnus joined the small crowd as the pale man in a green doublet, who had short, sandy blonde hair and a pinched face, that showed no wrinkles, was exclaiming something to the crowd. Magnus did not pay much attention to what the man said, something about improvements in bow technologies and a new arrow his men had developed. Terribly droll conversation topics to the wizard, who was more intrigued by the man in green's ruby rings and golden bracelets. This was a man of means and consequence. Someone a patronage from would be seen as favorable to the Guild.
The crowd dispersed a few moments later and Magnus followed Telerek as he approached Blacktide and the two strangers. “Ah Master Telerek and his Arcanine friend Magnus,” Blacktide said. “May I introduce you to Lord Alaric Fairwinds,” the Highwarden continued, gesturing towards the man in green.
Telerek and Magnus gave a short bow before Magnus said, “an honor to meet you, my lord.”
“The honor is mine!” exclaimed Alaric. “It is my understanding that you freed my man, one Bram Holloway, from a most unfortunate situation. Bram does find a way to consistently find himself in those,” the nobleman chuckled before continuing. “Regardless, I am truly in your debt gentleman. I have not been at my station for long, but now that I have assumed control of House Fairwinds, I do intend to tame at least a portion of the Tameless Shore.”
Telerek stared deeply at the man in black, who returned the look in kind. “Interesting arrows you have there, sir…” Telerek said.
“Klovis, though I am no sir,” the man in black responded, smiling. Magnus looked at the arrows, which appeared rather unremarkable, save for their length and the curious barb of the arrowheads.
“Klovis, right. Curious, ever been hunting for chitin west of Ridgeton?” Telerek asked, eyes in a cold stare.
“I suppose at some point I have,” Klovis responded, his smile growing wider.
“Anytime recently?” Telerek asked.
“I suppose that would depend on what one defines as recent,” Klovis responded.
Highwarden Blacktide cut the tension from the room as he let out a giant laugh and slapped Telerek on the back, nearly knocking the elf to the ground. “Interesting line of questioning that I no doubt believe the two of you can continue at some other time. For now, let us eat, drink, dance and celebrate my hard-fought victory against your overconfident friend,” Blacktide said, taking a large drink from a ram's horn that had been repurposed as a mug.
“Gentleman, I fear I must take my leave. As the noble of these parts, I have to make my way around the room a little. I am sure you understand. Again, you have my deepest thanks for solving that little matter in Praldosta. I shall leave a physical expression of my gratitude with Blacktide here,” Lord Fairwinds said, sauntering away from the group with Klovis in tow.
“Lord Fairwinds has increased his contributions of the Trident Guard tenfold compared to his predecessor. His uncle, Alarion Fairwinds, was a tight pursed bastard,” The Highwarden said as he left Telerek and Magnus to each other.
The pair stood in an awkward silence for several minutes until Magnus looked at the entryway and saw Magnar appear. The dwarf looked even more intimidating, full clad in his new black chitin armor. He made a straight line for Magnus and said, “what do you think, Sparky? Maybe that old bastard of a blacksmith was worth the gold he robbed me of.” Magnus smiled and complimented his brother. The armor appeared to be multiple layers of black chitin carapace overlapping one another. Telerek poked at the breastplate and nodded in approval. Beltayne, still nursing his ego, joined the trio a short time later and they all began making plates of food and enjoying the abundance of alcohol.
A young courier ran into the room and shouted, “Letter for a master Telerek!” Telerek raised his hand and beckoned the young girl over. She handed him a small piece of parchment and waited until he flipped a copper coin to her. Telerek smiled as she ran off and looked down at the paper. His smile faded almost instantly. He dropped the letter to the ground and sprinted after the girl. Magnus picked up the parchment and read it to the rest.
“Troublemakers of Ridgeton, I humbly request your presence for the execution of one Varloc Ts'ari, to take place this very night at Anchor’s Plaza. Sincerely yours, Rythella.”
Magnus did his best to keep pace with Magnar, Beltayne and Kel'dhos. They did their best to keep pace with Val who, even in panther form, could barely keep sight of Telerek. The black-clad elf was sprinting at an unnatural speed, like a wisp of smoke caught in a heavy wind. He slipped around corners with masterful grace, vanishing from Magnus' sight before the sound of his steps, echoing against the wooden buildings of Ridgeton's docks, could reach the dwarf's ears. Suddenly the party had come to a stop and Magnus, chest heaving as he sucked the saltwater air, quickly glanced around.
The companions were in the middle of a small, dilapidated town square. Time, moisture and wind had been the enemy of this forgotten corner of Ridgeton. A small unused fountain stood crumbling in the center of the courtyard, as several wooden shops, with roofs that had decided to have a rest inside the buildings, ringed the perimeter. Outside of his heavy breaths, the only noise Magnus could hear was a rusted metal sign creaking in the breeze just above him. The wizard looked up and saw the sign read, “Anchor's Plaza." Exactly where the letter had instructed them to come. Magnar had bellowed at Telerek that he was sprinting directly into a trap, but the elf did not even spare a breath to voice how little that mattered to him.
Magnus caught the last flutter of Val's tail as she slipped inside the small opening in a double door. The building had a small clock tower, long in disrepair, rising from the middle of a high thatched roof. The building and roof were in remarkable shape when compared to the rest of Anchor's Plaza, with only a few small holes and half of one side missing.
Beltayne, Kel'dhos and the dwarves quickly crossed the open plaza, all mindful of the near eventuality of a trap being sprung on them. They reached the double doors and quickly crossed the threshold. Inside, the smell of mold overwhelmed Magnus, and his eyes took a moment to adjust to the low light of the interior. The only light provided was from the pale glow of the moon, leaking through the holes in the roof. Telerek, in all his haste to get here, now stood motionless a few steps inside the doorway. Magnus could only make out his statuesque silhouette, as he peered into the room, which was a large rectangle, with several stone pillars, presumably to hold up the clock tower, in the middle. At the far end of the room, what was once a large hearth, was now mostly a pile of rubble. Nothing else adorned the room except a few metal plates set into the floor.
Magnus could hear Magnar breathing heavily next to him and caught sight of Val stalking silently against the walls. Magnus placed himself next to Telerek and whispered, “Are you sure this is the spot?”
Telerek, not even turning his head whispered his response, “Yes, I know a thing or two about the seedier sides of this town, dwarf.”
Magnar stepped up next and, in his best attempt at a whisper, said “On you then, elf.”
Telerek nodded and slowly started creeping towards the rubble pile with the rest of the party, crowded tightly together behind the elf. Telerek moved like a wolf hunting prey, eyes fixed and sharp, scanning every shadow and corner. The silence in the room filled Magnus with anxiety and he found himself holding his breath as he walked behind the party, chest pressed against Kel'dhos' backside.
A loud thud to the party's right broke the silence. Magnus and the entire party looked in unison at the source of the sound. Val, still in panther form, stood completely still, an arrow shaft protruding from the wall just above her spine. The party immediately spread out in familiar formation, Magnar and Beltayne rushing to the front with their weapons at the ready. Magnus took a few steps back and prepared a purple, arcane javelin in his right hand. As the party moved, arrows bombarded them from every direction, their origins invisible. Magnus and his companions were immediately in disarray, diving to the ground and trying to find cover as the assault came from every direction in a disorganized cadence. As the wizard took another step to his rear, he heard a bolt being loosed to his right. Magnus flourished his hand, dismissing the arcane javelin and quickly shrouded himself in a thin layer of arcane protection, outlining his entire body. An arrow struck with a quiet clink against his temple and fell harmlessly to the floor, the wizard’s magical ward doing its job. Magnus looked down at the arrow and quickly noticed there was nothing remarkable about it. He turned his gaze in the direction the arrow came from and noticed small holes in the stone pillars where more arrows were docked at the ready.
Magnus peered closer at the deflected arrow at his feet and noticed he was standing directly on one of the decorative metal tiles, magic pulsing lightly from it. Magnus cursed himself for not sweeping the room before he and his companions entered. “Don't step on the tiles!” Magnus yelled, but his voice was drowned by loosed bolts and the others’ shouts. Magnus quickly cupped his hands together in front of his mouth, a small purple ring forming between his palms. “DON'T STEP ON THE TILES!” the wizard shouted again, his voice amplified by the arcane. The rest of the party, startled by the rumbling bawl, stopped and looked down at the floor, many appearing to notice the tiles for the first time. With the chaos subsided Magnus, speaking normally again, told the others, “a spell has been placed on the tiles, with the pillars holding the arrows. So mind your step.” The rest of his companions then checked themselves, as well as each other, and gave thanks none had been struck by the arrows.
Magnus then let out a pulse of magical detection throughout the room, waiting for a ripple of the arcane to flow back to him. Instead of a ripple gently caressing his outstretched hand, Magnus felt a tidal wave crash into his chest. The source of the magical tsunami was emanating from the rubble of the hearth. Magnus carefully walked up to the pile of stone, his arcane ward still enveloping his body, and placed a hand on the cold rock. Instantly, the rock began to move, but under no command from Magnus. The stone moved upward on its own and a trapdoor was visible beneath it. Magnus smiled to himself and turned to tell his companions of his discovery.
Instead of admiration painting their faces, Magnus saw only shock and looks of horror. Confused, Magnus turned and looked back at the rock pile. However, the stone was no longer a hearth in disrepair. It had formed into a seven foot tall shape of a man, with glowing green eyes. Magnus was lifted off his feet and swept to one side as the giant stone creature’s arm slammed into the dwarf's ribs. Thankfully Magnus' ward protected him from the blow, however, it had evaporated before he struck the wall with tremendous force. Trying to recover his breath, the wizard stood shakily to his feet. He had read plenty on Wraith Golem's during his studies. However, now that he was encountering the hardened horror in the flesh, his scholastic knowledge dissipated quicker than his ward.
Magnar leapt at the Golem and delivered a solid blow to the creature's stone head. The strike, however, was completely futile as the hammer bounced harmlessly off the necromantically enhanced skull of the Golem. As Magnar's feet touched the ground he was immediately back in flight as the Golem slammed his stone fist against the dwarf's chest. Magnar's new armor held firm, however, and the dwarf quickly rolled back to his feet. Magnus conjured a fireball in his hand and flung it at the creature. It hit the Golem squarely in the chest and immediately snuffed out, not even drawing a reaction. Radiant white light shot from the end of Kel’dhos mace and glanced off the Golem's cheek. It roared in anger and marched directly toward the cleric. When the creature reached the nearest stone pillar, however, he stopped and used both arms to strike it. The stone support immediately crumbled to the ground and the entire building began to shake.
“He means to bring the roof down on top of us!” Magnar yelled, racing at the Golem with his hammer held high. The Golem went to step towards the next pillar, however, as he did so his right foot was stuck to the floor.
Beltayne stood a few feet away, one hand outstretched and Winter's Bite grasped firmly in the other as wind, snow and ice rushed from him. Ice had begun to cover the Golem at his feet and was creeping up his legs. “Blessings be upon you beast, from the Queen of Falling Snow,” Beltayne said as the ice now covered the entire lower half of the Golem's body. A few seconds later it stood completely encased and motionless.
Magnar walked up the creature, mindful of the tiles on the floor, and delivered a powerful strike with his hammer, right into the Golem's chest. The entire body splintered into thousands of shards of ice and fell to the floor at the dwarf's feet.
“Have you been able to do that this entire time?” Telerek asked Beltayne, unable to hide the annoyance in his voice.
“One does not call upon the intercession of the Queen lightly," Beltayne responded, chin high in the air. Val appeared to be purring as she nestled her face against the thigh of Beltayne.
The clock tower above began to groan as the integrity of its support was now severely compromised. “Everyone through the trapdoor, quick!” Magnus shouted as he sprinted. Everyone piled inside the tight passageway hidden by the door. Moments after shutting the door behind them, a thunderous crash sounded from outside as the clock tower collapsed.
Magnus and his companions walked, stacked single file, down the narrow corridor for several minutes. The brief pause in fighting allowed Magnus' mind to wander back to Thefolcious' letter. The wizard traced his fingers along the edges of the still sealed words of his master, as they lay confined in his satchel. It was almost unbelievable to Magnus that even as he marched towards what would be his most difficult task yet, the anxiety of the letter's contents weighed most heavily upon him. The thought of matching his skill of the arcane against a seasoned Necromantic sorcerer filled him with dread, but also excitement. He anticipated the words of his master to be harsh and full of critique, reading them would bring little but a sense of defeat and worthlessness to him. However, to best one of the demonically devout in a magic on magic duel would be a notch on the wizard's metaphorical staff for the rest of his life.
As he caressed the stiff, folded parchment in his satchel, the wizard's thumb briefly brushed against his orb. His mind was suddenly flooded with visions of bodies being consumed by scorching infernos, hundred foot waves flooding cities and entire harvests dead beneath an icy permafrost. Magnus removed his hand from the satchel entirely and found that he had stopped walking and was panting.
The weight of everything was beginning to consume the dwarf. He was not strong enough to defeat Rythela, the woman had probably been a Necromancer longer than he had been alive. Of course Thefolocious' words would be harsh, what other kind did Magnus deserve? Was he expecting to charge into battle, use his mostly academic knowledge of the arcane and cast down a master of the demonic arts? Was the Mage's Guild supposed to open their doors and have a feast in his honor for simply stumbling across a decrepit dragon's temple, thousands of which litter Eridan? Aside from the power that flowed through him from his orb, Magnus’ progression had stalled. Not just stalled, but come to a complete halt. He was supposed to be using these experiences and this journey, under the protection of Magnar's hammer, to expand his skills. Instead, he was quite certainly worse off than when he first arrived in Ridgeton.
Magnus was shocked out of his spiral of self-pity when he felt a hand gently rest on his shoulder. The wizard looked at the gauntleted hand and turned to see Kel'dhos standing above him, concern and kindness blending into a small smile on his face. “I know not what troubles you friend, but with your permission I shall ask Sioch to grant you peace and comfort.” Magnus felt himself unable to speak, but gave his friend a small nod. The half-elf closed his eyes for a moment and the pendant on his chest glowed, lightly illuminating the small passageway for a brief moment. Magnus felt a minute amount of his fear melt away as Kel'dhos hummed softly. The cleric then opened his eyes before saying, “Let us move forward, guided by Sioch's wisdom, to help our friends and bring justice down on the unholy wench.” Magnus then turned and with Kel'dhos’ hand still on his shoulder bounded forward to certain death.
A small amount of light was peaking through what was most certainly the end of the long passageway. Magnar halted the group several strides away from its terminus and turned to the party whispering “Alright lads, and kitty. We are going to flood into the room. Don't dally at the exit picking at your arses. Rush through and spread out.” Everyone nodded at the brief and direct strategy, deferring to Magnar’s experience over offering any objection. Magnar quietly beat his chest with a closed fist one time, before turning and sprinting silently out of the passage.
Magnus let the fear and doubts of the long, quiet march fade as he ran at full speed with Kel'dhos on his heels. He coated his body in his protective arcane ward and began mentally preparing the offensive spells he would launch. Magnus and Kel'dhos burst, in unison, into a large, well lit, cavern. Magnus stood many paces in front of him, with Beltayne a few steps to Magnar’s right. Telerek stalked, cloaked in shadow to Magnus’ right while Val did the same to his left. A large lake, that appeared to be fed from another cave, dominated the far left corner of the cavern. Numerous large cargo boxes were piled high amongst the stalagmites. The bodies of several dead men were sprinkled throughout the room. A large crane stood near the far wall, just next to the lake. The tip of the crane was suspended over the lake with a metal barred cage hanging over the water. Rythela stood next to the crane with an amused smile on her face.
“I appreciate you all for accepting my invitation tonight. I apologize the road to get here was rocky, but I had to ensure our gathering remained exclusive,” the Necromancer said with a small chuckle. The elf sorceress was wrapped in a black and green cloak, face half covered by her hood. A dark leather jerkin was visible beneath the cloak and she was lazily holding a wooden staff in one hand. The staff looked as if two decaying tree branches had been intertwined and was topped with a skull, green light emanating from the eye sockets.
In a flash, an arrow, originating from Telerek's bow, bolted directly towards the sorceress' chest. A slight movement from her free hand sent the arrow flying harmlessly towards the wall.
“Oh stop skulking in the corners Telerek, come out and have a short chat with me. Perhaps we can replace our confined guest of honor with a suitable substitute,” Rythella said as she pointed her staff towards the suspended cage. Magnus stared up at the cramped prison and saw Varloc, clutching the bars and looking at the party in desperation.
“Enough of your poisonous rhetoric, fiend. Release Master Varloc unharmed to our possession, or meet cold justice courtesy of a knight of the Winter Court,” Beltayne said, raising Winter's Bite above is head and taking a step forward.
Rythella let out a cold laugh that echoed off the walls of the cavern. “Weren't you still a squire a few weeks ago Bel? I promise you all have gotten yourselves into a situation completely out of your depth of understanding or power,” Rythella said. “Throw down your weapons, become my prisoners, answer for your crimes against my master. Do that and I will release this over-perfumed, effeminate simpleton unharmed. My master might even keep you all alive, if you swear fealty to him and serve our cause.”
Magnar gripped his hammer and lowered his stance, staring directly at the sorceress. “I have no masters, whore,” the dwarf said before rushing Rythella. Magnar leapt towards the Necromancer, hammer over his head ready to strike. Rythella lifted her staff nonchalantly, pointing the skull towards the charging barbarian, and a blast of green light burst forth. The spell crashed into Magnar's chest and sent him tumbling into several of the stacked wooden crates. The Necromancer then sent a green beam out of her staff and seared lines into the stalactites suspended above Magnar, who was struggling back to his feet. The stalactites released from the cavern's ceiling and came crashing down on the dwarf, burying him.
Magnus looked at the scene in horror, fear nearly crippling him. Rythella shrugged her shoulders and calmly said “have it your way then.” She then slammed the butt of her staff into the ground and began chanting, “Krul'vath vengurro ish'tas morgain.” Dull green light spread across the cavern and quickly dissipated. Everything went silent for a few moments, until the sound of metal on stone and groans filled the empty space.
The cadavers that had laid motionless a few moments before all began to rise, holding weapons and fixing their gaze on the Necromancer. Rythella cleared her throat and smirked before calmly saying, “kill them all.”
The animated corpses shrieked in unison and turned towards Magnus and his party. Magnus filled his hands with fire and took aim at the nearest enemy while Kel'dhos raised his shield.
The next thing Magnus tasted was cold dirt as his entire body had been forced to the ground. Magnus looked around him and saw that a giant net, with ropes as wide as his hands, had fallen over him and Kel'dhos. The weight of the net was oppressive and suffocating. Small blades and shards of glass had been woven into the ropes and, if not for Magnus' ward, would have been slicing a dozen wounds into his body. Kel'dhos' armor was protecting most of his body, but a few lacerations had emerged on the cleric's cheek. The dwarf and half-elf were unable to lift the net off them as they watched their comrades do battle around them.
A cadaver had made its way to the crane and was working the crank, slowly lowering Varloc’s cage towards the water. Telerek had drawn his short swords and was dancing around several of the enemies, slashing at them in vain as none of the blows seems to affect the reanimated corpses. He was giving more than he was receiving, but the elf obtained more wounds with each passing moment. Val went after one enemy who must have known some magic before meeting death. She had been beaten out of panther form and was lying against a wall as the cadaver sorcerer sent blasts of corrupted yellow arcane into her. Two spear wielding corpses were slowly marching towards her, weapons ready to pierce. Beltayne, sword wrapped in faint gold and blue light, was having the most success. Winter's Bite was cutting deep into the enemies and appeared to be damaging them, as several lay dismembered and returned to their lifeless state at his feet. However, the paladin’s chest was heaving and sweat was covering his forehead. The cadavers were closing in on him and a small amount of blood was beginning to drip from beneath the snow elf's armor.
Kel'dhos looked deep into Magnus' eyes and said, “get us out of here.”
Magnus slowed his mind, drawing from his memories of all the time he spent pouring over spellbooks and tomes within the safety of the Academy. Suddenly he gripped Kel'dhos arm and focused at the ground just outside the net. The pair faded into two phantoms of blue smoke, the net passing harmlessly through them and falling to the ground. Their ethereal forms took several steps forward and coalesced back into their physical bodies. Kel'dhos gave the wizard a wide, genuine smile and the two immediately joined the fray.
Magnus slapped his hands and began vigorously rubbing them together. When he separated them, a small thunderstorm growled between his palms. The wizard pushed it outward, towards the three cadavers that had gathered around the wounded Val. Lightning struck the magic wielding cadaver first, before arcing to the two armed with spears. Electricity engulfed all three as fire and smoke poured from their mouths and eyes. After a few moments, they all fell to the ground, charred and smoldering. Magnus rushed over to Val and pulled her up to a seated position. She smiled at the dwarf and placed her palm onto the ground beside her. The dirt gave way as bright green grass emerged and colorful flowers sprouted forth. Val's injuries appeared to lessen as her bruises disappeared and some, though certainly not all, of her cuts receded slightly.
Without saying a word, Val jumped to her feet and raced towards her cousin. Telerek, now armed with only one sword, was down on a knee and he regressed to purely defensive actions. Val ran as swiftly as if she was still in panther form. As she approached Telerek, she clawed the ground and scraped her nails across a discarded pile of stone. As if her fingers were made of flint, when she lifted her hand, flames engulfed half her arm. She slammed her ignited fist into the chest of one enemy. A flaming crater was all that remained when she pulled it back out. She then lashed her arm at a second enemy, the flames roaring towards it, enveloping the cadaver. Both fell almost instantly as the inferno in Val's hand was replaced with a coiled vine, covered in large thorns. She whipped the vine at a cadaver who was hacking away at Telerek's short sword. The vine struck the enemy in the back and Val, using both hands, pulled him backward. The cadaver stumbled back and Telerek used the disruption to behead the corpse in one swift stroke.
Kel'dhos ran to one of the wooden crates and climbed to the top. He raised his mace to the air and began quietly praying. His pendant blazed with white light, causing several of the cadavers to cover their eyes and wail. Just above the enemy who was working the crane the air seemed to split. A beam of light burst forth in a perfect cylinder down onto him and he shrieked and fell to the ground. Varloc's cage was suspended just a few feet above the water, the elf merchant’s knuckles white as he clutched the bars. He relaxed his grip and let out a small sigh as the cage had come to a stop.
Val helped Telerek over towards Beltayne. The elf cousins were badly wounded as several more cadavers marched dutifully towards them. Beltayne stepped between his companions and the half-dozen enemies descending on them. Though bleeding from a head wound, the paladin raised Winter's Bite towards the reanimated corpses in challenge. “Say farewell to this witch that has claimed you, for the Queen of Falling Snow shall have you released,” Beltayne said, slashing at the enemies.
Magnus was now running directly at Rythella, who still stood in the same spot, smiling. Kel'dhos jumped from the crate and joined the dwarf as they closed the distance towards the Necromancer. When they were only a few meters away, her smirk vanished and she replaced it with a cold, hard glare. “You two are meddling in things you can't even begin to comprehend. Cease this foolishness and I might allow you to le-"
“You have defiled the corpses of these men. Against all the laws of life, nature and the gods!” Kel'dhos interrupted, shouting at Rythella in anger, his mace and pendant glowing. “I will see you brought to justice for this unholy act, and whatever demon you have bonded with will answer to the radiant and eternal wisdom of Sioch!”
Rythella rolled her eyes and without a single other movement or word shot a green and black blast from her staff. The spell blew Kel'dhos back, causing him to roll and crash against a far wall. Magnus turned to the Necromancer and tried to not let the fear flash across his face. Rythella stared at the wizard and gave him a long blink and sigh. “Come now, little apprentice, this is not a fight you are ready for,” she said, taking a step towards him. “I will, however, allow you to leave with your life. If you give me what you keep hidden in your satchel.”
Fear shot down Magnus' spine. How could she know about the orb? His instincts betrayed him as he reached inside and grabbed it without thinking.
There, now give it to me. Rythella’s voice pulsed through Magnus’ head, though her lips did not move. Without thinking, Magnus pulled it from his satchel and held it out towards the Necromancer. Place it in my hand, Her voice commanded. Magnus began taking slow steps toward her, the orb glowing and pulsing in front of him. Rythella reached out towards Magnus when a deafening shout filled the cavern, shocking the dwarf from his stupor. From the rubble Magnar blasted straight at the Necromancer, who was still reaching for the orb, eyes transfixed on its glow. Her eyes snapped to the barbarian barreling down on her. Magnar was moving too fast and was too close for her to counter in any meaningful way as the full weight of the dwarf's hammer and rage were brought down on her.
Rythella's head burst like a melon crushed from a falling boulder. Teeth, skull, flesh and brain exploded outward as Magnar's hammer struck true. The Necromancer's body collapsed to the ground and Magnar landed on his feet a moment after. He peered down at her mutilated corpse and spit at the last wisps of flesh that remained of her face. Magnar turned to his brother, the fury fading quickly from his face. “Ha, trying to bury a dwarf in stones.”
The remaining cadavers instantly fell to the ground, lifeless. Beltayne, immediately fell to a knee and let Winter's Bite hit the ground. “Not a moment too soon, friend,” Beltayne said, exhausted. “I nearly needed to catch my breath," the snow elf continued before falling to his side.
Magnar ran over to his companions, helping Kel'dhos to his feet. The cleric surgically went about healing and applying first aid to the heavily wounded party. Magnus approached Rythella's corpse, staring at the skull affixed atop of her staff, the eyes still faintly shining a pale green. Wordless whispers seemed to flood Magnus' mind for a few moments until the eye sockets went dull, and the silent voices ceased.
“Um excuse me, if it is not terribly inconvenient for you I would very much like to be released.” Magnus stared even more intently at the staff and then at the corpse of Rythella. “Oh, ahem, up here if you would.” Magnus looked up and saw Varloc, still suspended above the water waving at him. “Great show, great show my good dwarf,” the elf said. “Distracting the witch like you did so your brother could deliver the fatal blow. Rather violent for my tastes if I am being completely honest with you. Though, I will certainly not argue with the results. Now, be a good dwarf and get me out of this cell.”
Magnus worked the crane to bring the cage down on the shore of the lake and Magnar quickly broke the lock. Varloc stepped out and patted the dwarves on their heads. “I fear I have nothing to offer my gratitude with that would be sufficient at this time. The witch caught me quite by surprise and unprepared,” Varloc said to the group. “It appears our friend here was using this cave as a means of smuggling, both goods and people if I would have to guess. This water leads right out into Mortas Bay, but I would venture to say far enough from Ridgeton's docks that it would go unnoticed. I will have my men come down here at once and secure it, for the good of the city of course,” he continued, giving a small nod towards Telerek.
“Instead of drowning in these frigid waters, I believe I shall take my leave to drown myself in a bottle of brandy. Please come see me whenever you have finished whatever other business you have here. Telerek, a quick word please,” Varloc stated, taking his nephew off to the side for a private conversation.
“I am sure Blacktide will want to know of this place, and of Rythella's demise,” Magnus said to the party, most of whom were still seated and nursing their wounds.
“Oh, you must not understand business talk. Uncle Varloc wants to take this place over for himself and doesn't want anyone else to know,” Val said.
Magnus shook his head and returned to Rythella's corpse. Nervously, he began to search her cloak and other clothing. On an inside pocket of her cloak, he found a small letter. Magnus opened the letter and read it aloud:
“Ry, after you have dealt with the trouble in Ridgeton, we shall rendezvous at the Lighthouse of Ala'cul the night after next. Bring whatever cargo you have acquired. Wait at the docks for our signal.”
It was not signed by anyone and the text faded a few moments after Magnus read it, leaving only a blank piece of parchment in the wizard's hand.
“The lighthouse of Ala'cul is about a days ride south of Ridgeton,” Telerek said having returned from his conversation with Varloc. “It has been abandoned for decades, save for pirates, cutthroats and thieves,” he added.
“Sounds like we will fit in well then,” said Magnar, who was sitting on his hammer smoking a pipe.
“We should follow this lead. Uncle Varloc and the Highwarden both have a vested interest in seeing this whole mess brought to a conclusion,” Telerek said, to unenthusiastic nods from the rest. “I say we intercept whoever Rythella was to meet and get what information we can from them,” the elf added.
“Sure, I am positive that they will be happy to open their arms to us when they see two dwarves, a panther, an elf and a priest at the lighthouse, instead of a necromantic demon elf-witch,” Magnar said with a laugh.
Magnus looked over at Val, who was holding her cloak up to her face and peering through the singed holes courtesy of the recently ended battle. He then looked at the bloody, though relatively intact, cloak still wrapped around Rythella and the twisted branch staff at her side.
An idea formed in the wizard's mind. “Val, you look like you could use some new accessories.”
End of Chapter