Tombs and Tomes

"Get my Rod!" Sorn heard the necromancer shout. Just then a lucky swipe from one of the men at arms caught him a glancing blow and sent the little halfling sailing over the heads of living and undead alike. He hit the wall and slid to the floor.

Sorn shook his head to clear it and stood up. A skeleton stood before him, the rictus grin wheezing breaths of foul air as it swung a rusty sword in a great overhand motion. Sorn rolled to avoid the strike and vaulted up the ribs of the monster, kicking the neck vertebrae with all his might. The skull flew off the shoulders and went clattering off into a corner.

"None of you will possess my secrets-"

Sorn turned, still standing on the headless skeletons shoulders. Their was a burst of midnight purple fire and a flash of black light.

Suddenly the fighters from the center of the room were gone. Valesar, Han, Kol, Heljah, Quinten, even the vagrant men of that scoundrel who had swaggered in moments before and caused all this trouble.

"No!" Sorn bellowed in rage and launched his little halfling body across the intervening space, grabbing the Rod from the surprised necromancer. He bashed the undead wizard over the head with Rod, and then gripped him by the high collar of his cloak and hauled him close, barely registering surprise that, with the Rod in his hand, he was able to touch the ghost. "What did you do to them?" He demanded hoarsely.

Taliesor was laughing hysterically. "They'll never get out now, never! No one does."

Sorn shook him, "Where did they go," he demanded. Outside the tower, circling Tera screamed her rage in response.

The tower was silent. The skeletons had stopped fighting as the ownership of the Rod once again changed hands, and the scum following Ireselan, those still alive, now grouped together to one side of the room, on guard but uncertain on what to do.

"I sent them to the shadowlands." Suddenly the undead wizard was in control of himself again. He stood up and tried to grab the Rod from Sorn's hand, but the halfling swiped him away and the necromancer turned the motion into brushing his robes. "If they survive and manage to reach the gateway back into the real world before sundown tomorrow, then our curse is broken." The wizard gestured to himself and the other undead. "But no one ever escapes, and so my secrets are safe."

"Bring them back!" Sorn bashed the rod against Taliesor, and the wizard stumbled back from the fury of his onslaught.

"I can't," Taliesor growled. "Even if I wanted to. It is up to them now."

Sorn turned to the other skeletons. "Bring me the works of Taliesor the wizard." He demanded, icy fury dripping from every inch of the small man.

"No!" Taliesor tried to snatch the Rod back again, but Sorn held him back.

"If you won't help me, than perhaps something in your notes can." Sorn snarled.

He gestured at the leftover men of Ireselan. "Make sure they don't interfere." Suddenly the little group was ringed by a skeleton army, swords drawn. The men made no move except to put their swords away and their hands up.

One of them shouldered forward, only to be pushed back by the other men and the angry gesturing of a skeletal warrior. "Let me help." He said angrily.

Sorn glanced back. "Who are you?"

"Tomas Redorc. You're not the only one's got people missing. My brother's in their too. Let me help!"

Sorn nodded wearily, "Fine." Perhaps they all weren't complete scum after all.

The other men tried to rest as best they could, but they started uneasily at any movement of the skeletal warriors around them. For their part, the undead were near-motionless, only twitching their skulls around to watch the living soldiers, or perhaps adjust their position slightly.

The undead wizard had disappeared, Dol Dorn knew where. Sorn settled down, legs crossed among the papers and scrolls the skeletons brought before him, glancing alertly to the soldier Tomas once or twice. The soldier seemed to know what he was doing, and as long as none of the scrolls disappeared beneath his leather jerkin, Sorn was content to let him work, but his grip on the Rod of Command never ceased.

They organized the papers into two stacks, looking through them frantically. The long night through they found nothing, and when dawn came they were still searching. Finally, Tomas ran across something.

"Look at this," he said. "It's from Tome of Dwarven Legends."

The volume told of how, long ago, dark warriors from a shadowy world had raided dwarven strongholds for slaves, passing through doors of night written by blood. The dwarven slaves worked for their masters, Shadar Kai, for long years before discovering the secrets to escape.

"It says here that they could pass from place to place in the shadows of the Ash trees, the only trees growing their. That darkness was light for them, and blood opened doorways."

"Like Heljah's poem." Sorn nodded.

The bandit cocked his head questioningly, then went on after Sorn didn't say anything more. "It also says that they couldn't use regular magical healing or rest while they were their. The Shadar Kai masters made them drink some sort of liquid, called Menelith, that gave them strength and healed their wounds, but without being able to sleep many of them slowly went mad. Finally they discovered a secret doorway between worlds, the way the raiders had used to penetrate the dwarven strongholds, but it was too late. Because they had been living off Menelith, they could not pass through the gates themselves."

Sorn looked peered over the arm of the human soldier. "So how did they escape?"

"It says that they prayed for their gods to protect and save them. Finally, a warrior of light comes, and "bestoed on us the sunging and rhymes of teim." something like that. Anyway, they got this song, and they started to sing it, and opened the gateway for them. The bandit peered at the notes. "It says in the margin, 'see volume five page nineteen in 'Songs of Power'".

They cast about, looking for it. Finally, in frustration, Sorn turned to one of the skeletons. "Bring me a copy of the book "Songs of Power", and be quick about it."

The skeleton turned and ran out of the tower. They continued searching for more clues, but couldn't find anything until the undead creature marched back, about an hour later, carrying a leatherbound tome containing a ream of unorganized loose parchments.

They pawed through the pages, finally finding the one they were looking for. "I can't read music." Sorn said in frustration.

"Neither can I." Tomas stared blankley at the notes on the page, arranged in bars and little dots and lines that made his eyes hurt.

"Can any of you read music?" Sorn demanded of the other soldiers. By now several others had joined them in the search, although Sorn had given careful commands to the skeletons to kill anyone who tried to take the Rod from him.

"Any of you?" They shook their heads, except for one, slightly in the back. He looked sheepishly at the others, then raised his hand.

"Afore I became a soldier, me mum had me take lessons with the priests. I can read the notes." He took the parchment from them and cleared his throat nervously. The music had no words to it, a simple tune only.

The soldier began to sing, wordlessly, and the skeletons began to sway with the melody. The other warriors looked around nervously, and started back from the center of the room. Papers rustled and swirled in a little vortex, and cold purple light, like a miniature star, began to glow in the center of the room. Abruptly there was a flash of dark light again, and a portal stood in the middle of the room. Traceries of purple fire outlined strange runes, lines of power flowing to the door. On the other side of the glowing doorway they could see a mirror of the room they were in, but colder and gray, sapped of color.

"One of us should go through." Tomas said. "Find them, and tell them what we've found out. Give me the Rod, and you can go through." Tomas demanded suddenly.

"I'm not trusting you with this." Sorn snarled. He edged back from the warriors, who had shifted suddenly to circle the halfling. The skeletons encircled them, a ring of cold steel and skull-grinning faces, and the soldiers stopped.

"And how am I supposed to trust you?" Tomas grumbled back. "The Rod won't do any good once the they get out, the necromancer said so himself. One of us has to go through."

All of them looked at the portal. It hummed a strange noise that penetrated to their bones, purple light crackling around the edges.

"Me, or you." Sorn said, pointing at Tomas. "Not the others. We'll flip a coin." Tomas nodded once.

Sorn dug a coin out of his pocket. "Call it in the air," he said, and then flipped the coin.

Blood the Key

With their backs to the tower they were able to hold off the undead horde better than they had. It did not last long tired and weary men some with wounds don’t fight well for long. Soon they were all pressed up against the tower the skeletons unrelenting as more waves still came. One of Ireselan’s men got a rusty sword in the throat and Ireselan pushed the dying man into the horde of undead.

“We will not last much longer if this continues half-elf, even with your monster.” Ireselan snarled as he bashed in the head of a skeleton.

Using both his rapier and the club Heljah had made for him; Quinten blocked a thrust and broke the withered arm before the skeleton in front of him could recover and pull it back. Quinten thought furiously before answering. “We need to get inside the tower. We can block the door or thin them out if we need to once we are inside.” he looked up and down the row of warriors pressed against the cold stone of the tower. “Move to the right until we find the tower entrance. After we find it Valasar and Heljah take up flanking positions the rest of you guard their backs.”

They all started inching their way towards the right Valasar at the end of the line once more covered their backs and Heljah was again at the front and forcing a way through the press of undead bodies. The going was slow, having to deal with fighting at the same time as they tried to make it around the building. Quinten looked at in back and in front everyone had the same expression that of desperate men on the brink holding on by a thread.

“Quinten we found the entrance.” Heljah yelled back.

The entrance for the tower looked just as it did in the real world. Minus the dead body of the dwarf. It was a little alcove in the tall tower of dark stone. Heljah and Valasar took up positions on both sides of the entrance and Quinten was impressed to see one of the men-at-arms take a position in-between them. Everyone else crowded into the alcove and looked despairingly at the door. It was the same door that was in the real world absent the key that Quinten had first used.

“Great half-elf we are now as good as dead now.” Ireselan said staring at the door hopelessness sharp on his voice.

“Shut it Ireselan, and you and your men help me try to force it open.” Quinten was painfully aware that Valasar and Heljah were buying them what precious time they had. After trying the point of Quintens rapier and a feeble attempt to kick the door in they all ran into the door with their shoulder. All that that was able to accomplish was six men with sore shoulders.

“Anymore bright ideas?” Ireselan sneered.

Quinten looked at the door helplessly. What was he supposed to do? He looked back and saw that they fight was more desperate now. Valasar was most likely exhausted and Heljah was right there with him. He looked back at the door and had one more idea. He ripped open his shirt and put a finger in the still bleeding cut on his arm. With his finger glistening with wet blood he started to trace the dwarven symbols he remembered seeing in the real world. As soon as he touched the door with his wet finger he felt something go out of him, energy that he didn’t think he had. He continued to write out what he remembered seeing and more energy left him as he did. But as he continued to write what looked like a ghost of a key started to appear. Slowly but becoming more real the more he wrote it was the same key that he had used in the real world. As soon as he put the last symbol he remembered on the door his legs quaking with the effort of holding him up finally gave out and he fell in a heap on the ground.

“Nice work half-elf.” Ireselan bent down as if to help Quinten to his feet. But before he could get close to him Han and Kol were their helping him up swinging his arms over their necks to support him. Kol gave Ireselan such a look that it made the elf back away almost unconsciously. He recovered himself quickly and turned his retreat into going over to the door turning the key and pushing it open. “Move quickly before we are all killed by the dead.”

It was not a moment too soon. The man-at-arms that had stood with Valasar and Heljah went down with a spear in his leg. With a scream he went down clutching his leg. With lightning fast movement Valasar turned using his tail to disintegrate the first row of undead. He bent and picked up the solider and tossed him over his shoulder and made a dash for the open door Heljah coving his retreat. Everyone moved aside has the great lizard rushed passed them into the hallway. Heljah grabbed the key before she came barreling after him. After booth were inside the other three men-at-arms hurriedly closed the door. As the door closed one of the skeletons tried to follow and got smashed to smithereens for its trouble.

Two ever- glow lanterns light up this end of the hallway bathing everyone in a harsh light. Everyone had found a place along the door and walls panting. It seemed that the curse of not healing still held no matter how hard they breathed it didn’t seem to help. Quentin barley felt alive as if he hung to life by a thread. Heljah armor was battered and she had blood running down one side of her face making a fan. Valasar had new wounds and was still losing blood along the one up his side. He had sat the man-at-arms down next to him and removed the spear from his thigh. He sat there and made bandages from the man’s shirt. The man winced each time Valasar touched him even though Valasar was being very careful.

“We…need to….keep moving.” Quinten managed to get out he hardly had any energy to speak at all. “haveto….get to…portal…before it…closes.” Han and Kol looked at him with worried eyes before nodding and getting to their feet. Ireselan looked at Quinten with a sneer and something else maybe a small gloat before he too got to his feet. Han and Kol again slung Quinten between them; Quinten tried to walk but only managed a shuffle.

“Quinten do you think this hall is like the other one?” Kol asked keeping his eye on Ireselan. Quinten managed a nod and before anyone could say anything Heljah had smashed the two ever-glow lanterns.

“What in the seven hells are you doing.” Ireselan yelled in the dark.

“There is a trick to the hall wait a moment and you blind men will see.” Han said roughly. The hallway stated to glow again with the black patches for the booby-traps. “See told you.”

Trail the Ash Tree

They first took care of weaponry. The soldiers and Quinten's men scouted around for large rocks and deadwood, bringing them back to Heljah, who set to work creating a dozen rough clubs. "Terrible rush job," she kept muttering to herself, and "I'm an architect, not a smith," but within ten minutes they had serviceable weapons for bashing in the skulls and breaking the bones of any more skeleton warriors they might come across.

They headed down the slope at a steady jog. Grim determination set their gate, and they clumped together. A dozen eyes darted nervously about, straining in the gloom for some hint of movement.

Soon they were gasping for breathe.

The strange jumps in time sometimes slowed them down, so it was like they were wading through water, and sometimes they ran ten strides in one. Once or twice Kol thought he saw themselves running just ahead of them. It shocked him a bit, but then they caught up with themselves in time and they were all in one place again.

The Tower didn't get any closer.

"What is going on here?" Quinten gasped. "I thought you knew what you were doing, Ireselan."

"I'm not a necromancer," Ireselan snarled back. "I don't know. Last time I was in a place like this is not something I like to remember." He called for a halt, and wearily his men and the Company sat down. The stale air didn't relieve their lungs any, and they sat panting. "I don't remember" pant 'having this kind of trouble." He paused. "We just walked through his garden and," pant "we arrived at where he wanted us to go."

"Well, we don't have a magic garden to transport us away, Ireselan," Quinten wheezed. "I don't think that will work."

They panted for a few more minutes, until despite their wheezing lungs something set them on guard. They eyed their surrounding, trying to gasp quietly.

"There!" One of Ireselan's soldiers pointed to wisps of white fog roiling towards them. "And there!"

They could here the clacking of bone against bleached bone, the squeal of rusted armor. The musk of blood seeped into their noses. Then, they came, clacking steadily through the mist.

"There are twenty- not thirty four of them." Quintin said, checking the perimeter. "We should be able to handle this."

"Don't be so sure," Ireselan said wriley. "This is the Shadowland. They are stronger here."

They formed a rough circle, each man guarding the back of another. The skeletons rushed at them, cold wind howling through their ribs like voices, and rusted steal met club in silent fury.

They were harder than that raggedy horde in the forest had been, their bones clinging together with unseen thews, the attacks coordinated and intelligent. Still, the men fought with desperation for their lives, and the undead skulls were flying, knee caps and shoulders cracked and broken within minutes.

Valasar and Heljah were like demons in fury, taking on five each of the ghastly undead. When it was over, the twitching bones were scattered around them like a small harvest of white. Several of the men had been cut, and the wounds oozed slowly. Quintin had a slash across one arm, and Kol had taken a beating from a soldier's wild swing, but the worst was a youngish man among the soldiers. His thigh had been deeply pierced, and one of his ankles twisted in the fight.

Ireselan knelt next to the boy. "Can you walk?" He asked, almost gently. The boy shook his head feebly, white-faced. "Then you'll only slow us down." With one swift move he slit the young man's throat.

"Valasar could have carried him without slowing down!" Quintin snarled, pushing Ireselan away from the body.

"And then we would have lost one of our greatest assets in fighting." Ireselan said coldly, wiping his blade and standing back up. "You never did think logically about these things, Quintin."

"What if we had a healing potion? Did you think of that?"

"Healing of any kind does not work here. Haven't you noticed how tired we all are? We're going to stay tired until we leave. Those wounds you, and some of my soldiers received" he gestured, "They will continue to bleed until we leave."

"Quintin, I want to bash his head in to, but now is not the time for that!" Heljah pointed at the mist, where more skeletal warriors lumbered and clattered toward them. Around them, the bones of those they had fought before were inching their way towards each other, knitting themselves back together inch by slow inch. The soldiers kicked at the slowly reforming bodies, but they were tenacious. A headless, one-armed torso grabbed at Hans leg, and he shook it off, smashing some of the ribs.

"Where are they coming from?" One of the soldiers muttered.

"They keep appearing between those trees." Valasar pointed the shadowy outlines of a small copse of ash-white trees a few yards away.

"Ash trees! Everybody, follow me! I know what to do!" Heljah charged towards the advancing skeleton horde, swinging her hammer and uttering a blood-curdling war-cry.

"Arrow formation, follow the dwarf!" Ireselan snarled, and his men surged forward. He gestured at the body between them, and said to Quintin, "We can discuss this later, if you like."

Quintin didn't take his eyes off the cold smug face of the other man. "Men, follow Heljah."

They plowed through the skeletons, not trying so much to take them down as to push through them. Luckily, living legs were faster than rickety undead knees, and with Valasar acting as rear guard they managed to fend off the clattering horde.

Suddenly they were at the copse of trees. Heljah turned to check on them, making sure everyone was with her, and said, "Everybody grab the hand of someone else, form a chain! We should all be connected for this."

They each grabbed someone else's hand, nervously dropping some weapons, but they formed a chain, and then Heljah ran around one of the trees, and disappeared from the other side. they could still feel her tugging though, and soon all of them were pulled along around the tree.

They were in the courtyard in front of the Tower. An ash tree stood next to them, its branches strangely green with leaves in this dead world.

"Trail the ash tree." Heljah gasped.

"How sure were you that that would work?" Quintin asked her.

"What, you doubt my ancient dwarven wisdom?" Heljah asked. "It was in the rhyme, so it was as good a try as any."

"Everybody into formation! put your back to the tower!" Ireselan ordered his men. Quintin and the others formed ranks as the undead horde followed them through the ash-tree portal, white bones clanking with rusted armor in bloodlust, dark wind howling.

Shadowland

In three quick strides Quinten reached Ireselan. Against the dead he might not be any use with a rapier but Ireselan was most defiantly living, for now at least. Quinten effortlessly block a feeble stab made by Ireselan using his momentum he put his shoulder into Ireselans stomach causing Ireselan to double up he then brought his free hand up to catch Ireselans chin knocking him flat on his back putting the tip of his sword against the elf’s throat. The men-at-arms were so taken aback by the sudden attack that they hadn’t moved until Ireselan was flat on his back by that time Valasar had positioned himself right in front of Quinten repelling any thought of coming to the elf’s aid.

“Speak clearly or it is your death what do you mean the shadowlands? Where is the Halfling what has happened to Sorn?” Quinten stared down at Ireselan Pain and furry making his face a mask. Ireselan looked up at him a grimace on his face as if he wanted to spit again looking at the steal pressed against his throat he changed his mind.

“Your Halfling could be dead for all I know or care.” The point of Quintens sword pressed down harder on his neck and he hurriedly went on before it drew blood. “Or he could be somewhere in this god forsaken land or he might not even have come here. That spell could’ve missed him in the tower. If you look around I am also missing men.” He gave a small shrug indicating that he didn’t care as much as Quinten seemed. To him they were all expendable.

“So now’s the time to tell us where we are.”Heljah said coming up behind Quinten. She gave a menacing look at Ireselan sprawled out on the ground and then directed a question at Quinten. “How did you and Valasar get over here so fast?” Quinten gave a start he looked back at where he had been standing when they first arrived here. He had been so mad that he didn’t realize that he covered a good forty yards in three steeps. He noticed the twins had flanked Valasar they had what could only be called determined looks on their faces. The men-at-arms felt something from their eyes and unconsciously took a step back.

“That’s all a part of this place time is twisted and warped here.” Ireselan said from his back. “You could cover a mile in a minute or if the fates really hate you hours.”

“What do you mean how is that even possible?” Quinten was staring into Ireselans eyes trying to catch any lie.

“I don’t know how it works ok I just know about it.” Ireselan yelled from his back his eyes were wild. “This is the shadowland. A land where death is the only reality. You think that necromancer and his dead army was difficult that was nothing compared to where we are at now. Every great army of undead was called from here because this place has that many undead and to spare. And when we die here after our body becomes cold we will join them. The dead feel the living they will not stop until we are just like them.”

“How do you know this how do you know anything about this place or about Talisor?” Quinten demanded bewildered at this new information. How could they ever fight through an army of undead?

“The same way that I know that the only way out of here is by the spell that brought us here. And that won’t stay open forever judging by the scale of it; it will be closed in three hours trapping all of us here with the dead until we become undead ourselves.”Ireselan stared up at Quinten challengingly before turning his head to look down into the valley were the purple glow of the spell that brought them here was still visible in the gloom of this world. “If any of us want to escape the dead plan we have to get to the tower.”

Quinten looked down at the tower nestled in the valley. In three hours it would be closed there was no lie in Ireselans voice or eyes, and indeed if what he said was true then it would take all of them to get to the tower. Three hours to cross at least twenty miles over terrain where time changed and the undead tried to spill their blood over the black rocks of the twisted landscape. He looked down at Ireselan and then up at his men-at-arms did he dare trust a man that had been sent to kill him. What about Sorn if he was alive and in this world could he just leave him here knowing what fate awaited him. He had taken the job he had led them all here it was because of who he was that all of this was happening. It was his entire fault, everything, because he wanted to be different wanted to escape and now and now and now all his friends would die.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up into the eyes of Han and his brother Kol. He just realized he had said the last part out loud when Han said in a solemn voice “It’s not your fault and we are not going to die.” Han looked for once in his life very serious. “We all wanted to come with you, remember, besides who else are we going to blame for getting us into trouble all the time.” He gave Quinten a smile and a wink letting him know he was teasing again.

“You can tell us everything latter much latter if you want” Kol put in. Quinten looked down at Heljah who had a light and a promise in her eye that their talk would be a lot sooner. “But for right now you’re the captain.” Kol continued “and you need to tell us what to do and just to let you know Sorn would have told us to get our butts out of this world as soon as possible.”

“Right.” Quinten said his voice sounding husky in his own ears. He turned his attention to Ireselan and made his voice hard and as cold as ice. “Much as I hate to admit it I’m not a murder and we are going to need every available hand to make it down there in time but I promise if anything happens to any of my men you will be the first to die”

Tower Battle

"You didn't think I would come that unprepared?" Ireselan looked in disdain at the newly reanimated skeleton. "While you were on your little jaunt in the woods, my men were doing a little side job for me." Ireselan pulled out a long, ivory-white rod tipped with a rats skull and wrapped around with ebony engravings of skeletons.

"My Rod of Command!" Taliesor the ghost choked in rage, his eyes burning blue in beat to those of the skeleton that had now paused in its shuffling advance across the room. "Where did you steal that from?"

"It's not stealing if you're already dead," Ireselan laughed in suprise. "You're still around, Taliesor old man? I guess you just can't keep a necromancer down these days, even if he's dead." With that the mans' eyes sparked with purple light, and he gestured with the Rod. "Obey me, creatures of the night!"

His theatricality would have been comical, if at that moment they didn't hear the sounds of the entire village moaning for their blood and clambering up the stairs. Sorn peeked out of one of the tower windows. Skeletons were clambering up the sides like grotesque overgrown spiders, skittering and clawing up the rough stone. As one of them reached the window he banged the shutters on its face, and it fell down the ledge, but two more took its place.

Valasar was already wading through the men at arms, lashing out with tail and claws and spear. One man made the mistake of slashing at the lizardman's face with his sword. Valasar dodged and bit down on the man's hand. Another of the men got a lucky swipe, scoring an angry line of red across Valasar's side. A quick kick opened sent him flying through the nearest window, screaming until an abrupt silence told them he had hit the ground.

Heljah and Quinten borded up the windows as best they could, standing their ground against the growing onslaught of the undead. Sorn darted between them, lobbing fire-flasks through the cracks. The concussive blasts through the skeletons back to the ground, but others scrambled to take their place. Heljah's axe sheered through the skeleton limbs left and right. Wherever she placed her blade, skulls rolled and ribs cracked. Quinten finished off two skeletons, and then turned and quickly dodged as the corpse of Taliesor uttered a nefarious spell that rolled out of his mouth in drips of black fire and sent their teeth on edge.

"Get my Rod!" Taliesor the ghost swiped in helpless fury at the men at arms, but he couldn't touch them.

Kol and Han fought skeletons on one side and Men at arms on the right. Han pulled out his kamateka with a snap and the long-wired weapon tangled between the feet of three of the men at arms. Taking the opening, Kol paused for a moment to aim carefully, and in quick succession shot off three throwing knives at Ireselan. He blocked one with his free hand, and dodged the third, but the second dug squarely into the forarm holding the Rod of Command. He snarled in rage as his hand spasmed open.

Suddenly the fight was a bit more fair, as the undead horde turned on men at arms and Quinten's party alike. Among the chaos, the ghost of Taliesor pounced forward. Somehow the insubstantial ghost managed to hold onto the Rod of Command. His face twisted in fury, his hand raised, he shouted, "None of you will have my secrets!" He touched the staff to the floor of the room, and suddenly arching lines of purple fire traced themselves in intricate arcane patterns across the room. The light from the fire grew brighter and brighter, centering on the undead necromancer.

Their was a flash of light, momentarily blinding everyone, and an unutterable cold that sunk deep into their bones. When they could see again, cold dread pierced their souls like knives.

They were no longer in the tower. They stood on the slope of a great, black mountain. The sky was night, and twinkled with alien stars, but a cold sun burned down on them from the sky, illuminating in harsh clarity their monstrous environs. All around them twisted black grocks loomed in menacing shapes, undefinable and disturbing. Nothing grew on the mountain except coldly glowing green lichen. A tower stood twenty miles or so in the valley below them, the highest room still glowing an angry purple.

Quinten was there, and Heljah, and Valasar. The Twins stood panting, back to back, but Sorn was missing.

A little ways off they could see Ireselan standing, flanked by six of his cronies. For the moment they just stood, staring at their cold surroundings, shocked for a moment from their struggles.

"Where are we?" Quinten murmured. Though his voice was quiet, it carried in sharp echoes across the landscape, and forty yards away Ireselan answered him, his voice bitter.

"The Shadowlands." He spat on the ground and cluched his wounded forearm into his side. "That blasted magician trapped us all in the Shadowlands."

Lich

It was probably the most ridicules question handed down from generation to generation repeated whenever such times allowed such as now “what are you doing here?” Quinten said looking incredulously at Ireselan. Talisor and the little ghost girl had disappeared as soon as the first words had left Quinten’s mouth

“Aren’t you the captain of the city watch” said Han at the same time his brother on his other side said “looks like they couldn’t wait to arrest us again, eh Valasar.”

Ireselan only had eyes for Quinten. “oh my dear Quinten didn’t you see this coming I practically told you it was going to happen didn’t I. it seems that even those that had top marks in the academy can still be duped by someone of lower standing.” Ireselan practically spat the last part out “how does it feel Quinten to be outsmarted by me? Someone who used to follow you around, for your crumbs, not now though not anymore.” at the last Ireselan started to laugh a small chuckle that never reached his eyes.

The men-at-arms had started coming into the room slowly eyeing their commander and their surroundings with equally wide eyes. Quinten and his companions were no idiots as the soon as the men-at-arms had started coming into the room they had begun to back into a corner to prevent the new arrivals from flanking them. As they wedge themselves into the corner Heljah placed herself solidly at Quinten’s left side Valasar taking up the rest of the space to the wall. The twins had taken up positions on Quinten’s right side to the wall. Soren in the back had started to unlimber his small crossbow carefully using the lager bodies in front of him to hide what he was doing from the men-at-arms. The men at arms continued to come in fanning themselves around Ireselan.

“Oh everyone had such high hopes for Quinten D’Lyrander oh yes they did. Top marks in every category you had but to try only open your hand and power and money would have fallen into them. But what did you do you threw it away for what monsters and scum.” He sneered at Quinten’s companions flanking him. “But all that ends here. I will never have to follow you again.” Not turning his head he addressed his men at arms. “Search for the scrolls take anything else of value.”

“What are you doing here Ireselan why are you impeding our Quest? Did your superiors change their mind?” Quinten demanded.

“Oh no Quinten this has always been part of the plan. I’m just here to kill you.” this time Ireselan’s smile touched his eyes. “Didn’t I tell you when we meet together the first time that we would send another team in after the documents one that was sure to come into conflict one that would result in the loss of life.”

“So you are here to assassinate me?”

“It shall be my pleasure. Of course your grandmother and your merc captain will have no idea that we were involved to them it will seem that you were killed in this forsaken town by the evil the walks its streets. And with your death I will be able to have access to the inner circle I told you I was expecting a promotion soon.”

The men at arms had begun to throw the useless books onto the floor loose pages spread out covering the floor with runic writings. Quinten had to think quickly. There was no way that Ireselan was doing this on his own he practically admitted it. And since his grandmother did not know what was happening it was not part of the top, our was it. This could only mean that there was someone else in the Aurum looking for a higher position and power. Someone with enough power to command Ireselan and send all the men-at-arms with him.

“So all of this is another ploy for the Aurum to take control of the world?” Quinten had to keep Ireselan talking. It was as much for the need to gain information as it was for time to come up with a plane.

“Eventually the world will be ours anyway. The scroll is just a means to see to it that the wizard’s position is increased and with it mine as well” Ireselan said his eyes narrowing with thought. “A pity really you could have been in my position without effort. But now look at what trash you associate with” he sneered again it could be that he couldn’t help making comments about Quinten’s companions. “I used to admire you and now I don’t know why. You have become trash just like them.”

“Ser, we found it.” A stocky man came up and placed a book into Ireselans hands. It was black leather somewhat cracked and Quinten could just make out ruins on its cover in a deeper black than the leather. The book somehow gave the impression of sucking in what light there was in the room.

“Yes this is it.” Ireselan said turning the book over in his hands. “And now it looks like it’s time for you to die.” Ireselan said looking up and smiling in Quintens direction. The men-at-arms not still searching readied themselves to rush at the small group.

“So you’re going to take the book back to the Aurum?” Quinten asked.

“Yes. Now make peach with whatever gods you have Quinten D’Lyrander.” Ireselan replied. Now it was Quintens turn to smile.

The papers and books that covered the floor were thrown up by an unseen hand. Boiling and spinning like a small tornado they filled the air. Settled and started just spinning around the eternally weeping skeleton of Talisor. The skeletons hands came down slowly and griped the arms of the chair and little by little the skeleton pushed itself upright its head still down in its original position.

“You have chosen and now he and his can stop you.” Quinten told Ireselan coldly. With that the skeleton lifted its head staring straight at the soldier’s twin blue fires filling its empty eye sockets.

Edvard Taliesor

"My name is Edvard Taliesor, and up until five years ago, I was the ruling magistrate for this part of Thrane- an unusual choice, considering they generally favor the clergy, but then I had friends, and enemies, in unusual places. You see, I was a member of a cult--the Aurum. I partook in many heinous acts and ruthlessly pursued power by any means I could, until I received word," Here the ghost put his arm around the little girls' shoulder. She stared at them solemnly. "That my daughter's family had been ruthlessly slaughtered. All, except for this little one. It was a dark time, in those days I began to understand the terrible consequences of the War--a war that we of the Aurum had prolonged for our personal benefit."

They stood, listening, silent. There was a strange power in the words of the spirit, and almost against their will they listened to his strange, eerily familiar story.

"How I came to be appointed to this remote village, and found refuge is largely irrelevant. I thought that the Aurum were done with me, and I with them. Then, eight years ago, they came to me with a problem. They promised it would be the last job, the last thing they required of me, and then they would forget that they ever knew me. I didn't believe what they said, but... I had my granddaughter to think of. I was worried that if I didn't accept the job, some harm would come to her."

The spirits piercing eyes seemed to penetrate straight through to Quentin's darkest secrets.

"What they asked seemed no great harm, and a great flattery to my own ego. They wished me to devise a means to create a stasis disruption field during the moment of mortuary dissolution. It was difficult spell, something that had never before been done, though many times attempted. I was intrigued. In life I was a well-known master of necromancy, and I devoted a several years to solving the puzzle. It was only in the last few months that I truly began to suspect more sinister motives, although I should have been immediately suspicious. I was a fool."

"The spell, which had seemed to me merely an intricate puzzle to solve, was the missing component that the Aurum needed to create the ultimate death-spell, a spell capable of leveling countries. With it, they planned to take over the now exhausted Five Kingdoms. And my work, coupled with that of four other wizards, was what almost let them destroy our world."

"I tried to stop them, but this was the result." The ghost Taliesor disappeared, and for a moment they were engulfed in a scene of absolute horror. They saw the destruction of the mountain village- the screaming, crying women and children, the shouting men pointing in horror at the great blanket of mist and darkness that rolled over them, killing them where they stood. "Everything that I had worked for in life, gone in an instant. All, my fault."

Silence.

"Why are you showing us these things?" Quintin's voice sounded hoarse.

"Is it not obvious." The ghost looked at him wryly. "You will soon be making a similar decision. When I died, much of my research was lost. You, and your band, are here to take it back into the accursed light of so-called civilization. As I said, in life I had a greater mastery of death magic than any other human wizard in history. I managed to allow myself a voice in death, and even now I can see your spirits- your thoughts and intentions. But, until you choose, I and mine cannot stop you. So, what will you do?"

"Yes Quintin." Ireselan was standing in the doorway behind them. A moment later he was joined by twenty clanking men-at-arms, faces set in cold sweat, but Ireselan seemed calm. The soldiers took a look at the fully mortal band, and pulled out swords with sighs of relief. "What will you do?"

Peekaboo

Han lead the way into the dark corridor holding the everbright lantern high trying to get all the effects of the dim light. In Han’s other hand he held a knife ready to throw. Kol positioned himself nest to the everbright lantern protecting Han’s now vulnerable side. Quinten followed them impressed again how the twins always seemed to work well together. Everyone else fell into place behind him with Sorn bringing up the rear with the second everbright lantern. Everyone stayed close to each other occasionally throwing sharp glances at the darkest corners of the already bleak hallway it was all a testament to what they had recently been through.

As they walked farther into the shadows and away from the light of the open door the more alive the darkness seemed. It became oppressive almost solid pushing at the feeble light of the everbright lanterns. They all continued to go deeper taking comfort that they were near things living. As they continued to walk into the gloom Quinten looked back at the dim light at the end of the hallway slowly getting dimmer. Something wasn’t right about that something was off about the slowly fading light suddenly realization hit him like a hammer and he ran back to the door shouting to the rest of the group.

“The door is closing. We are going to be trapped in hear.” They wear now all rushing back to the fading light. Quinten realized that they would never make it in time no matter how hard they ran. Frustration knotted his stomach “Halt, stop running, come back we would never make it anyway.” The light turned into a sliver and then disappeared altogether. ”we’ll find out how to open it after we find what we came here for.”

Quinten knew his voice was tight but he had to keep strong as he saw silent resignation on his companions faces. They continued down the bleak hallway each taking up their original positions but this time with an added air of glom and a hunch to their shoulders. It seemed as if nothing had disturbed this tower in some time. The dust hung heavy everywhere and the air carried the smell of a newly opened grave. Quinten was looking at the ground so he was the first to spot the small trendal of fog seeping through the cracks of the stone floor.

“Stop everyone don’t move.”

“What is it?” Heljah asked peering around him. “I don’t see anything.”

“It’s the fog its back.” Now everyone looked down and saw the fog getting thicker. They all made a circle with their backs to each other and readied their weapons. They waited and the fog got thicker. Soon their knees wear hard to see and only Sorn’s shoulders and head wear visible. As quickly as the fog appeared it left almost as if it was blown way or sucked quickly back from wear it had come from. Everyone stayed were they were not sure what to expect and expecting anything at the same time.

Quinten was desperately trying to see past the circle of their light. Desperately trying to have some kind of extra warning if it was at all possible. As he looked off into the darkness he heard a small giggle in back of him. Which one of his companions thought this was funny to him he could see no humor in the situation. Suddenly he heard again and quickly looked in back of him. A small ghost of a little girl looked back up at him, she couldn’t be older than six, she giggled and disappeared. He was left staring into the wide eyes of Kol strait across from him.

“You saw that to right?” Kol nodded and started looking around again.

“What was it what did you see?” Sorn asked looking around expectantly.

“It was a little girl she giggled and then just disappeared.” Now everyone was looking around. Valasar had his strange collection of odds and ends out again and began rubbing them and muttering looking worriedly from left and right tail twitching and the frill on the back of his neck going up and down. Suddenly the little girl was back running around the group and laughing. She ran up to Valasar and grabbed at his tail. Valasar was so frightened that he nearly jumped out of his skin. The little girl giggled, laughing she ran around Heljah peeking out every once in a while at the frightened Valasar and giggling. This sent Valasar into a fit of bowing and continued rubbing and more mutterings under his breath. The ghost girl loved it, throwing her head back and laughing, she ran around the group using each one as a shield to peek out at Valasar.

“She is playing with you Valasar.” Quinten said in amassment he had never seen anything like it. The little ghost of a girl seemed infatuated by the tall lizardman. The group just stared at her as she ran around and used each one of them for protection.

“This is not playing. This is what you do when stalking pray.” Valasar continued to look nervously at the apparition obviously afraid for his soul. With that he started praying fervently for any other death besides the one at the hands of a three foot less than solid girl. The little girl jumped out from behind Han and made a pickaboo face at Valasar, at this Valasar jumped again; she giggled and ran in back of Sorn who was just slightly taller then her. Sorn white knuckled stood still, he was handling this no better than Valasar.

The little girl ran out from behind Sorn and made another grab for Valasar’s tail. Already put of Valasar took a couple of steps back tail flicking back and forth before coming to rest on a stone in the hallway. All the warning they had was a tinny click and then a spear was hurled across they path that they would have taken. The little girl looked frightened and disappeared only to reappear clinging to Valasar’s leg. He was to freighted to do anything and just stood there looking down at the little ghost seeking his protection.

“No one move. This passageway is trapped no telling how many are ahead and how many are behind us.” Quinten looked around for signs of more traps; everyone else did as well except for Valasar, he was being preoccupied at the moment. The little ghost girl run up to Han and tried to take the lantern away from him. When she couldn’t get it way from him she ran over to Sorn and started blowing on the lantern he held as if trying to blow it out. She looked frightened and started to try to take the lantern from Sorn, making throwing motions as she did. Quinten put everything together fairly quickly.

“Destroy the lanterns.”

“What are you crazy we won’t be able to see it’s to dark in hear as it is.” Heljah yelled back.

“Do it now.” Both the lanterns shattered against the walls plunging them into darkness. It seemed like hours as they waited in the darkness and Quinten wondered if he had done the right thing. Slowly the walls began to glow and the ceiling and eventually the floor. Along the floor there would be an occasional stone that refused to glow and stood black against the floor one of these was the same stone that had set of the trap. “It was all magic even from the beginning. The darkness who would want to go in that without a light. Only you have to go without a light to see the way.”

“Darkness light.” Heljah said quietly. “Its part of the rime, Darkness light, I never thought about it like this.”

“No matter we have to continue on.” Quinten said starting forward he would be the first to catch a trap if the glow missed on he had lead them on this mission it was only right. The little ghost girl appeared before them skipping ahead of the party carefully dodging the darker spots on the path. Soon they came to a staircase and again the ghost lead them up occasionally she would skip a step and Quinten made sure that everyone else did as well. As they neared the top the little ghost ran down a short corridor and through a broken door Quinten followed her being followed in tern by the rest of the party.

It was a good sized room close to what Quinten guessed was the top of the tower. It looked like a study full of books and scrolls and in the center of the room was a high backed chair. A Skelton sat in it its face in its hands almost as if had died in the act of weeping. It still wore the rich robes of a high wizard faded with time. Cluching tightly to its leg was a much smaller skeleton. The little ghost ran over to it or beside it and picked up a stuffed animal, to Quinten it looked like a lizard, she ran over to Valasar holding it by the tail. She lifted it up as high as she could and made movements indicating she wanted Valasar to take the old thing. Very carefully Valasar took the offering and gently placed it in his sack a small tear made ring in the dust at Valasar’s feet. After Valasar put the sack back on his back the little ghost giggled running around the room and dancing.

“I suppose you would like to know what happened here?” a tall ghost walked out of the shadows and strode across the room to stand next to the skeleton eternally weeping. He was wearing the same robes of a high wizard but they fit him a little better. The little ghost girl run over to him throwing her arms around his leg smiling.

Ghost Town

A steep series of steps on the last leg of the journey, leading up to the abandoned mining town. Little more than dirt held back by wooden logs, it started Heljah off into a rant about shoddy craftsmanship, but she clambered up much more nimbly up than the rest of her companions. Every hundred yards or so they would come across little stone-mounted everbright lanterns. Many were still glowing despite more than seven years without care, but some were broken or flickering. A few were even missing, shorn straight off the sheer side of the mountain.

With the rocky peaks on to the west, darkness came early. Far out on the golden plains of Thrane they could still see the bright light of the sun, but the mountains cast long, jagged shadows.

Looking down, down at the spindly treetops and craggy rocks far below gave Han a stomach in revolt. "Kol, that's a pretty steep drop, wouldn't you say?"

"Han, I do believe it is a rather steep drop."

"I sure hope I don't stumble and oof-" Han made a big show of stumbling straight into Heljah, and then he tried to run into Valasar, though the lizardman avoided him nimbley.

"Han, stop it! You're going to throw someone off the edge!" Quinten was much grumpier than usual today.

Han continued shoving and pushing in the middle of the band. "Sorry, oh, you could have fallen their, sorry! Oh! Saved your life!" Kol rolled his eyes at his brother, and then gasped as one of Han's pranks almost pushed him off the edge. Sorn was right there behind him, pushing him back to safety, but the weight was to much for the little halfling, and he hovered for a moment on the very edge of the precipice, before cartwheeling backwards and out into open space.
Their was a moment of horrified silence, everyone looking at Han. Han's face was white, his hands cold and hot by turns.

Then with a shout the halfling, now safely mounted on his Soarial, rose up above them, his steed flapping her great wings. His laughter at his own jest sent everyone off into nervous chuckles, but Han was a little more careful after that. A somber mood hung over the company like the cloud vapor that clung to the mountainside, and they took the last steps in silence.

Finally they reached the village. Chill houses struggled up the steep sides of the narrow valley. The pitched roofs were rotting and broken. Rows of whitewashed walls and softened corners marched row by row behind a low stone wall and spindley ironwork fencing. The only sound was the growling moan of the wind.

About a quarter of the town was blackened, the charred houses mere husks or less, the streets covered in charcoal and pitch. It brought back cold memories of the War, and for a moment the party shifted aimlessly, each lost in their own thoughts. They entered one of the homes closest to the gates. The shutters were broken, the curtains in tatters and blowing like ghostly fingers. Two skeletal figures, a woman and a child to judge by the tattered clothing, were wrapped in each others arms in one corner of the room. Cobwebs and dust covered the little house in awful silence.

"Lets spread out." Quentin said after a moment, quietly. "It's already dark. I don't know about the rest of you, but I'd rather not spend any time here after night falls for true."

They broke off into groups of two, searching house by house. Each told a story of work caught midway, filled with frozen remains and old sorrows, but nothing definite. Their was a particularly fine gold necklace in one of the larger houses, a few silver coins amidst the broken pottery of another. Han left it, and Kol, left the things of the dead to the dead. They'd already seen the curse over this place at work once, and they were not eager to face that kind of a fight a second time, despite their earlier bravado.

Han noticed a little road that led up, behind the village. Just above them he could make out the well-kept entrance to a tower, built partially into the mountain, where a few everbright lanterns still flanked the heavy stone doors.

A faint sound of laughter brushed past them.

Han turned back, to look past his twin, and stared at the village below them. True night was fast falling, and with it a silvery outline tingled across the village, a misty silhouette of what the it must have been like before- whatever had happened. Misty forms rose up around the gutted buildings, and human shadows walked the streets, stopping to talk to each other, pulling phantom carts. The howling of the wind had calmed, and now took on an almost conversational quality, as if they could make out snatches of conversation if they listened hard enough.

Kol noticed something in the expression of his brother and turned to look at the village. Ghost-children tumbled past him in with squeals of delight, and he jumped out of the way, only to have a cart-wright pass straight through his body.

Heljah and Quinten hurried up to the small rise where the twins stood, ignoring as best they could the ghostly apparitions around them. Suddenly Valasar was next to them, wild eyed, tail lashing. He had out a pouch of strange trinkets he was rifling through- a few downy feathers, a green stone, a tooth, a rats paw. He mumbled something under his breath, eyes darting from side to side, bowing nervously at each ghost as they passed.Tera swooped low and Sorn jumped from her back to the ground, whistling for her to circle high overhead. The halfling stood tall with his companions, but his hands were white-knuckle clenched.

"We should not be in this haunted ground," Valasar hissed nervously, the frill of spines on his head arched and trembling with his anxiety. "We will anger these spirits, who have not had the grave-rights performed for them."

"I agree with big scaley." Heljah muttered.

Quinten's mouth was a hard line. "We'll get what we came for and leave as soon as we can. Gentlemen, is this the place?" He gestured to the imposing tower behind them.

"Looks like it," Han said. In the silvery ghostlight from the town and the flickering of the everbright lanterns, the tower crouched over them like some gluttonous monster in the gloom.

They approached the stone doors of the edifice, glancing back nervously at the suddenly 'lively' town. Two corpses seemed to be clawing at the entrance. One clutched the side of the door, while the other, clad in heavy dwarf mail, had struggled to inscribe a final message on the wall before expiring. The message was in dwarven runes, and Han tired not to think to hard about what had been used in place of ink.

"Let me see what I can do." Heljah leaned over the dead dwarf, absentmindedly tracing the symbol of the dwarven god Iluvar over his forehead before pushing him gently aside to concentrate on his last message. "It's pretty faded, but I can still out some of what it says. 'To free the dead.... circles.... lock... cursed gate.... shake.'"

"What?" Han asked, scratching his head.

"It's just nursery rhyme." Heljah said in frustration. "Dwarvish children sing it when they play skip-a-drop."

"What's the whole thing then?" Quinten asked

"If you wish to free the dead
from slavery in circles bled,
You must unlock the cursed gate,
Though it cause your knees to quake,
For only when the bound are free,
Can they find rest eternally.

Sorcery the whip, blood the key,
Darkness light, trail the ash tree.

And then you start counting how many times you can jump over the drop without falling in." Haljah finished.

"Sounds terrible." Kol commented.

"It's quite safe, as long as you tie your rope properly." Heljah said.

"No, I meant the rhyme. Why do you have a nursery rhyme about the undead?"

"Why do you humans have a nursery rhyme about the plague?"

"Okay everyone, give me a moment." Quentin looked at the rhyme, and then at the door. After another minute or two he fiddled with it--Han couldn't see what he was doing--and then the great stone doors opened with the deep grind of stone against stone.

"Wow, you figured out how to open the door just from that rhyme?" Han said, impressed.

"The key was in the lock." Quinten said. "Alright. Lets say goodbye to our ghostly friends for now, shall we?"

Involuntarily, the whole band looked back at the village. The ghostly buildings now seemed more real than the broken structures beneath them in the dark of the night. The whole village of ghosts now stood, silently watching them. The wind was gone, and not a whisper was heard. A single figure, an old dwarf with sad eyes and a scraggly beard, he waived slowly, and then the entire apparition wavered and fled. All that could be seen now were the shadowy forms of the broken buildings.

Han grabbed one of the everbright lanterns from its sconce on the wall, pealing the skeletal fingers back. Sorn grabbed the other. Together, the band crept into the tower.

Another Desk

Cassandra shuffled through the constant pile of papers on her desk wishing once again that there was less paperwork required for her position. She leaned up against her high backed chair trying to stretch the tight muscles in her lower back. It had been a long day and she had never liked paper work. She felt more comfortable on a battle field her life in constant danger ordering units and coming up with battle plans discussing tactics. Tactics were easy compared to the constant barrage of documents required by the city of Sharn. She did the work though without complaint to the other members. They had followed her and trusted her and she would do everything in her power to protect and take care of them.

She rubbed her eyes with her right hand trying to dispel the ach that was behind them. She then looked down at her other hand her namesake. She held it up in front of her and flexed the fingers. It looked more like a claw then a hand but what could you expect from those that gave it to her. Cassandra Silverhand and indeed the hand did have a silver sheen to it. Beautifully intricate and strong the hand would look more at home on a monster than its current owner but Cassandra would have it no other way. The hand was a testament of a past life. A life that had, as it were, a very high price to live.

She flexed the silver hand again and a quit noise of different parts stirring accompanied the movement. The magic that allowed the hand to move was ancient and would never wear down. Cassandra did not know how old the hand was or indeed were it had come from but was grateful for it all the same. She began to touch the thumb of the hand to the three claw like fingers in a series of movements. Exercises she had to perform every day when she first got her hand and was getting used to it. There was of course the constant hum of gears greeting each of her movements. The hand had never been made for stealth and indeed the constant hum had gotten her and others into trouble when silence was needed. The noise and hum of the gears had also lead a new friend to them. One, which was now a part of their lives and the company.

Cassandra allowed herself a small smile as she thought about him and his awkwardness with their society. As she was wondering how he was doing on his first quest away from Sharn her thoughts were interrupted by hoofsteps steadily getting louder. They continued to get louder and things in Cassandra’s small office began to shake as they drew near almost taking on an angry tone. The steeps stopped suddenly in front of Cassandra’s office door. Not letting the owner of the hoofsteps knock or announce himself she called out in a clear voice.

“Go ahead and come in Bloodmane its open.”

The first lieutenant of the Silverhand Company opened the door and began to enter shaking his head and letting out a soft bellow as he did so. The door into Cassandra’s office was not small but even so it had never been built for someone like Bloodmane. The big shaggy Minotaur had to enter carefully ducking his head and turning it sideways to allow space for his bullish horns. After safely getting his head through the doorway he entered first with his right shoulder a ropy scare running from his shoulder to his midriff clearly visible. A great lion like mane covered his head and most of his neck continuing in a line down his back. The mane and the shaggy hair that covered his legs making feathers around his cloven hoofs were a rust colored red giving him his name. A much shorter coat of chestnut fur covered the rest of him.

He came and stood in front of Cassandra’s desk fury in his eye. It is common knowledge that it would be better to put your head into a bucket of scorpions then to be in an angry Minotaur’s way. She could tell by looking at him that he was angry, but really anyone could right then. Eight feet tall and five hundred pounds anyone would be careful when Bloodmane was mad. Cassandra though slowly gathered her papers and put them into a draw almost ignoring Bloodmane’s stair. Suddenly both of Bloodmane’s hands slammed into Cassandra’s desk causing the sturdy desk to grown in complaint.

“Do you know what that son of goat, that that two bit half-elf has done know?” Bloodmane roared his sharp teeth flashing in the light of the everglow lantern. Usually calm and stoic it was generally hard to get more than two words out of Bloodmane. Quinten on the other hand had a knack of getting under his thick fur. Cassandra was sure that most of the time it was unintentional but other times she wondered if Quinten did some things on purpose just to see Bloodmane’s reaction.

“Before you go on to tell me could you please remove your hands from my desk I don’t want to replace it again so soon.” Bloodmane threw back his shoulders and thrust his thumbs behind the thick belt he had holding up his kilt. His anger a little abashed from the memory of the first desk he had ruined. The way that he stood it almost looked like he was standing to attention Cassandra had asked him not to do that anymore but some habits were hard to break. Sighing she leaned back in her chair.

“Ok Bloodmane why don’t you tell me what are good Quinten has done this time.”

“Good GOOD all tell you how good he is. You know that blasted awful smell that has been around for the last couple of days?” Cassandra nodded. She had not been able to smell anything but then Bloodmane had a very powerful nose likely the only other person that came close to his since of smell was Vallasar. “Well it was coming from his room. He had left food in their half eaten. The gluten couldn’t even dispose of it before he left.”

Cassandra listened quietly and calmly letting her old friend vent his frustration. She knew that this matter was not the real problem, even though it did annoy him and give him an excuse to come and complain about Quinten. Bloodmane didn’t like the fact that others were out helping the company and he was not. More to the point others were possibly getting the chance to fight while he was stuck in Sharn doing errands. He was no more suited to this life than she. Cassandra decided to get right to the point.

“I didn’t want you going on this mission because I knew it was something only Quentin could complete.”Bloodmane blinked and once again he was the calm right hand of the company.

“What do you mean?” He said gruffly.

“What I mean is that this was all a set up and it required Quentin’s background to complete.” she had not let on to Quentin’s background figuring that that was his to tell. She doubted if Quinten knew how much she knew of him. “A group came to me recently that know of Quinten they asked me for help. It seems that one of their number is a traitor and overzealous to boot. They asked me to help them come up with a plan to bring him out into the open so he could be dealt with. They also said that Quinten was the only one that could do this. It’s because of the hate that this individual has for him that is what would bring him out into the open. I don’t know why he hates him so much but looked at this as a good opportunity to make connections. Not the best connections mind you but we need this kind to, if we are to survive in the city. Already the number of jobs that have come are way have dwindled.”

“So what about Quinten haarm I mean what about those who went with him?” Cassandra smiled to herself for all of Bloodmane’s gruffness he also cared deeply for the company.

“They should all be fine. We found a small town in the mountains that had been destroyed and abandoned in the war. All we had to do was make up a good enough reason to go there then connect it to one of their high ranking members. As it was they are to look for documents and a rumor was put out in their organization that they were important and could ruin the individual that was connected to them. So more than likely Quinten will get to this village and find nothing there, or find some old dusty documents and bring them back. All that is left then is for the traitor to contact them and demand the documents thus sealing his dome. So in the end all it will be is a lot of walking.” When she was done talking she looked at Bloodmane as he processed all of the information. Suddenly he smiled showing the long canines that never belonged on a bull.

“He is going to be angry when he learns it was all a ruse.” Said Bloodmane.

“And I expect he never will, I have handled the situation so the payment comes through him.” Cassandra gave Bloodmane a piercing look and continued. “I will be very angry if I find out he learned of this conversation.”

“Do not worry about me, if you will excuse me.” Bloodmane said and started to leave the room as carefully as he came in. As he was about to close the door he turned around and commented with a smile. “It will be better if I’m the one who knows.”

Cassandra could only smile as she was once again alone in her office. She put her hand down and pulled gently and then a little harder on the desk drawer. Sighing she made a mental note to look for a new desk.

The Bodies

“This belonged to the others we heard screaming?” Quinten asked.

“I believe they may have been the men that Sorn reported to you two days ago.” Valasar nodded to the Halfling.

“What were they doing so close to us?” Han asked.

“Probably trying to make sure we don’t poach on their territory,” Quinten answered absently, rifling through the pouch. “Three men aren’t any serious threat to us, but maybe they would have been looking for ways to discourage from going further.”

“Probably bandits.” Heljah spat on the ground.

Quinten pulled out a single small scroll, a few battered copper coins, some herbs, and a small, rotund figurine in dragonstone- A fat merchant, the symbol of the god Kor-Anan. “They could have been woodsmen, seeking to defend their territory.”

“They had swords.” Sorn pointed out, “And some light armor. I doubt they were merely hunting.”

“Whoever they were, they’re dead now.” Quintens’ voice had a curious flat quality to it.

“What’s that coin- the larger one, with the half-compass?” Heljah suddenly grabbed the coin, holding it up to the light. “This is the mark of the-“ She stopped speaking, suddenly, glaring at Quinten.

Quinten shrugged, “It’s Aurum.” He glanced at the others in the party. “A band of thieves in high places.”

“We’ve had a run-in with them before.” Heljah was glaring at Quinten, but he returned the stare with one of his own. Sorn wondered at their reaction, but kept quiet.

“If those men Sorn saw were from the Aurum, then we’ve got a lot more competition for this little excursion than I had anticipated,” Quinten replied lightly. He stood up abruptly. “Let’s take a look at the bodies.” Quinten directed Kol and Han to the south side, down the steep path. He sent Valasar and Heljah to the east, where Valasar said the body was a little harder to discover. Sorn and Quinten took the west, the closest to the clearing. Nobody said anything, but the suddenness of the attack, the screams before hand, it was all a little unnerving.

The bright sunshine and birdsong were harsh counterpoint to the violence that had so recently occurred. Soren and Quinten moved quickly through the underbrush, skirting a few boulders and ledges, to where Valasar had indicated the third body to be, on top of a small rocky outcropping with a clear view of the clearing a hundred or so yards away.

It was clear the skeletons wraiths had done it. The flesh was scored and bruised with a brutal efficiency, and the horror on the man’s face was still evident. Rigor mortis was setting in. In the cool mountain air, the scene was all the more stark, the wet blood bright in the sun.

There was something strange about the body.

"This look like one of the bandits you mentioned earlier?" Quinten asked, squatting down and ignoring rank smell.

No stranger to the battlefield, Sorn also bent over the body. "Yes, but he was different before. He had on half-plate leather armor, Aruldusk cut, and carried a bow, arrows, and a sword." He touched a finger of the right hand. "See here, this man was clutching a pommel when he died."

"Where's the sword?" Quentin took a quick scan of the surrounding countryside. The treetops closed in around them, the clearing was the only open space to be seen.

"Check his hand." Soren picked up the limp member. "See how it is powdered white?" He gestured to other points on the body. "There and there, bruising from wearing armor, but again, all I see is that white powder."

"Like the skeletons. They turned to powder. But somehow I doubt they were working together.”

"I think I’ve seen this before.” Sorn wracked his memory. “It was a Karnathi Death-Spell. Anyone killed by the undead soldiers were raised by fell magic as more wraith-warriors.” He shivered. “Nasty stuff. Bet you wish you had that elf cleric with you now, instead of a half-bit lousy old scout like me.”

“Sorn, the attack was a magical- I doubt you could have predicted it. You had already spotted these men; you shouldn’t feel bad about the ambush.”

“Maybe.” Sorn tried to sound cheerful, but guilt gnawed at his gut. He should have been closer to the party; he should have seen this coming.

"The Thrane Inquisition is very diligent about rooting out old burial mounds," Quinten said. “That was one of their big issues with Karnath during the war- the use of undead. I wonder why this crypt, wherever it is, wasn’t found?”

"But what about this town we are going to. You said it was destroyed in the War."

"A Death-Curse? Massive enough to level an entire village in one go?"

"I've seen stranger things." Soren bent down. A strange tattoo had been sliced in half by a particularly nasty blow. "What's this?"

"Mark of the Aurum." Quinten said grimly. "So it was them." To himself he muttered, “Not going to like this.”

"You sound bitter." Soren looked up at his larger companion. There was something strange in his expression, but he couldn't quite figure out what it meant.

The half-elf was about to reply, but a shout from the direction of the twins made him turn. They jogged quickly to meet up with the others.

There was a little farm stead. It was gone to ruins, grown over by ivy, saplings shooting up in the back plot where a garden must have been. The stones were torn from one side of the building, but it mostly looked deserted. Chalk-white powder was everywhere on the ground.

“Look at this! I think we may be near the outskirts of the town.” Hal gestured them over.

“It looks like it’s been deserted for some time.” Kol remarked. “Since before the end of the War, even.

“Looks like you were right, Sorn.” Quinten gestured to the ground, where the powder lay. “The skeletons resting place. If this was part of the town, it makes sense that the death-curse would extend this far out.” In one part of the wall was a small hallow, a little shrine area. Quinten reached inside his pack, and pulled out the little statuette, replacing it in the alcove. It slid into place as if it had always been there.

The air around the little house shivered, and abruptly the chill in the air lifted. The sun beat down on their heads again, and brightness came back into the air. Somehow, the sudden brightness after the previous events was even more foreboding.

Kol was the first to break the silence. “Let’s head out.” He said.

Sorn whistled for his Soariel companion, worry nagging his bones. He should have been there to warn the band- as scout, it was his job to watch out for dangers like this. It didn't help that no one else blamed him. Death-spells were notoriously tricky to spot by mundane means, but still.

Sorn pushed his goggles down. It wouldn't happen again, not on his watch. There was a rocky cliff face near the abandoned cottage. Taking a running leap off the edge, Sorn spent a breathless three seconds in free fall before Tera was under him. Together they labored upward, to gain altitude, a grim new determination in their eyes.