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?"