The Archmage unbound

Chapter 18

Dorian was troubled by a nagging doubt as he walked. Something about the guard that had come to summon him bothered him, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He was halfway to the duke’s family suites before it came to him.

He hadn’t recognized the guard… at all. Having been raised in Lancaster, as well as trained there amongst its guards, he should have known him. At the very least the man’s face should have been familiar. There was always the possibility that he was new to the duke’s service, but unlike Washbrook, Lancaster hadn’t had a large influx of new settlers, so the chances of that were small.

I’d better go back, he thought, and turning he began to walk back the way he had come. The further he went the more urgent it felt and before he had gone twenty feet he was running. Keep your visor down, she had said. Damnitt Penny! You knew! A minute later and he was rounding the corner of the hallway their room was on, and as soon as he saw the men in the hallway his fears were confirmed. There was no reason for four strange guards to be standing outside her room.

Despite his conversation with Mordecai previously Dorian still didn’t have an enchanted great sword yet, and for once he was glad of it, the hallway would have been an awkward place to use such a large weapon. Roaring he drew his long sword and dagger, charging down the corridor at the men he knew must be there for the women he was sworn to protect.

The guards started at his appearance and drew their weapons. They bore only swords and truncheons, but many of them wished for a shield when they saw Dorian bearing down upon them. Raising their weapons they prepared to face him.

They might as well have laid down their arms, for all the good their weapons did them. Dorian ignored their attacks completely, trusting to his armor to protect him. Instead he focused his attention on his own weapons and within a span of seconds four of his opponents were down, dead or mortally wounded. Two others had entered Penny’s room, bolting the door behind them. Apparently they weren’t ready to be part of the massacre.

He reached the door in a panic, knowing Penny and Miriam were inside, presumably unguarded now. Naturally the door resisted his first attempt to open it. In frustration he struck the heavy oak with his gauntleted fist, sending splinters and shards of wood flying. The door shook in its frame as if a battering ram had been used upon it. Dorian stepped back and threw himself, shoulder first against the wooden barrier. Impossibly some of the wooden timbers snapped and the door nearly collapsed in on itself. A blade shot forth through one of the gaps, attempting to wound him, but it skittered harmlessly from his breastplate.

Raising his sword he began chopping away the remaining wood, the enchanted steel cutting through the damaged wood as easily as a knife through bread, within seconds he would be inside. He was so focused on getting to Penny and Miriam that he failed to notice the balding man fading into view ten feet down the hallway, nor did he pay any heed when the man began speaking in a foreign tongue.

Through the gaps in the wood Dorian could see dead bodies scattered across the floor. Blood was everywhere and Penny was being carefully bound by a woman with dark hair. He thought he could see a glimpse of Miriam on the floor to one side, lying utterly still. The two men inside were busy piling furniture against the rapidly disintegrating door.

Still unnoticed the man in the hallway gave Dorian a strange stare, for his words had had no noticeable effect upon him. Biting his lip he tried something different and lightning streaked across the distance between him and the armored warrior.

Dorian’s body convulsed momentarily as electricity coursed over his armor. Despite being encased in metal armor he still lived, for Mordecai’s enchantments somehow absorbed much of the strike. Still twitching he looked over his shoulder, spotting the man who had tried to kill him. Not daring to waste time he threw his dagger at the stranger, hoping to distract the man while he finished cutting his way through the door.

Oddly enough the balding man never wavered or ducked and he seemed strangely surprised when the blade lodged solidly in his shoulder. Letting out a cry of pain and frustration he fell backward, clutching at the wound. Dorian continued tearing a path through the ruined furniture and debris that still blocked his path. The woman had finished binding Penny and stood behind the two male warriors, berating them in their attempts to keep him out of the room.

Not satisfied with how the situation was resolving she searched about for a moment before finding a heavy table leg and… as Dorian finally forced his way in, she struck. Her blow was not the more usual swing, but rather a thrust, as one might use a spear. Normally such a strike would carry enormous force, having the weight of the wielder’s body behind a small point of impact. She struck so rapidly and with such force that Dorian was unable to duck, being still entangled in broken furniture, and the end of the table leg slammed into the face of his helm.

The blow would have killed him outright if he had not had his visor down. Even protected as he was it still sent him stumbling to fall backward over the broken wood behind him. The two fighters with the woman wasted no time, and following her directions they each lifted one of their captives and bore them quickly from the room.

Dorian struggled to rise but Ruth gave him no room, she had leapt through the doorway and now circled him, using the table leg as a cudgel. She struck madly, at his legs, arms, and head, making sure he was unable to regain his balance. She was grinning and sweating as she attacked him but even in her frenzy she was looking for vulnerabilities. Her blows seemed to have little effect on the massive warrior, besides keeping him from regaining his feet. His armor showed no signs of denting, or even being scratched.

“Walter!” she yelled. “Isn’t there something you can do about this metal beast?” That was when she spotted the wizard, wounded and struggling to rise on the other side of the hall. The sight distracted her and Dorian’s mailed fist caught the table leg on its next swing. She struggled to pull it from his grasp for he seemed to be impossibly strong.

With a yank Dorian pulled himself upright and drew Ruth into his reach. Moving with a speed she hadn’t suspected he caught her throat in his left hand and drew her face close to his helm as he stood. Rising up like a shining colossus Dorian held her in the air while she kicked desperately at him. She could see his face through the numerous slits in his visor and the look in his eyes sent a shock of adrenaline through her body.

“If you’ve injured either of those women I will rip that head right off of your shoulders!” he growled through clenched jaws. Turning his head he addressed the two men carrying Penny and Miriam, “Put them down or I kill this bitch.” They stared at him helplessly, unsure what to do.

Ruth glared at them while her face grew red and her eyes bulged. Her mouth gaped as she struggled to speak. Thinking she might give the order Dorian loosened his grip enough for her to breathe. “Release me fool or I’ll have them killed…,” she choked out but Dorian never gave her a chance to finish the sentence. With two long strides he lifted her up and slammed her against the stone wall.

“Then you die first!” he roared. He was beyond madness now and the men holding Penny and Miriam began to lower their captives to the ground. Then Dorian heard strange words and a sledgehammer blow of pure force struck him behind his knees sending him to the ground again. In the course of the fall he lost his grip on Ruth’s throat, but his gauntleted hand left deep bloody gouges on her neck as she fell free and went tumbling away.

Rolling over Dorian rose up again. The balding man, the wizard, was facing him again while Ruth choked and gasped ten feet away. Dorian leapt at him but struck an invisible shield that barred his path. Searching with his hands it seemed to block the width of the corridor. Penny and Miriam were on the other side of it… along with their enemies.

The wizard, Walter was what Ruth had named him, smiled and began backing slowly down the hallway. Ruth was rising unsteadily to her feet, still gasping for air, and the two remaining soldiers they had brought lifted Penny and Miriam again. Desperate Dorian slammed his fist against the invisible barrier in front of him. Walter winced visibly at the force of the blow.

Two steps and Dorian recovered his sword. He had spent enough time with Mordecai to know the effect enchanted blades could have, even on a wizard’s shield. Turning back one swing cut through whatever held him back and then the resistance was gone. Walter’s eyes grew wide in fear.

“Run!” shouted the panicked wizard. “I can’t hold him!”

Dorian had almost made it to the spell caster when another bolt of lightning struck and stunned him momentarily. His entire body was tingling and pain robbed him of his senses for a second, and then he began to advance again. “You’re going to regret that,” he said in an ominous tone.

Walter stumbled back, fear written on his face. Dorian could see the front of the man’s shirt was covered in blood where the dagger had struck him earlier. In desperation the wizard uttered a sharp phrase in an unfamiliar language and Dorian braced himself, but nothing happened. With a cry he leapt forward to grab the older man, but his feet suddenly flew out from under him and he fell to strike the floor, a floor that was now as slick as ice.

The wizard moved quickly back, following his companions, and as he went he repeated his incantation… ice now covered the floor for thirty feet between himself and the almost helpless Dorian.

“What the hell?” Dorian shouted as he tried unsuccessfully to lever himself up onto his arms and legs again. He struggled desperately but only managed to flounder more spectacularly, his frenzy making it even more difficult to find purchase on the ice beneath him. Every second that passed Penny and Miriam were being taken further away as their attackers carried them down the hall.

In frustration Dorian slammed the floor with his fist, sending splinters of ice flying every direction. His hand found solid purchase on the stone underneath. Inspiration struck and moments later he was beating the ice with both fists to clear the ground. Within a minute or less he was past the ice and running after them. Rounding a corner he found nothing but an empty hallway, his foes were nowhere to be seen.

He bounded in the direction he assumed they would have gone, the stairs… still he found no sign of them. Looking back he scanned the floor and considered the doors he had passed. He could see blood on the ground, probably the wizard’s. It appeared he was losing a fair amount of blood. The blood stopped a good twenty feet from the entrance to the stairs.

Squinting he examined the floor there, hoping to find some clue, and as he stared at the area a second spot of blood appeared, as if by magic. He glanced upward, suspecting they had somehow climbed the walls, yet he saw nothing above. Dorian took another step, getting closer to the mysterious area. He could hear someone breathing heavily… perhaps several some ones.

Suddenly the light changed and standing before him appeared the entire group. Ruth appeared to be helping to keep the wizard on his feet. Said wizard chose then to speak, “Why the hell won’t you just give up!?” Another strange word and lightning enveloped Dorian again, sending pain shooting throughout his body. This time the surge of electricity didn’t end immediately, it continued for what seemed an eternity as the wizard focused his fear and desperation on him. “You should be dead already!” cried the man, almost sobbing with emotion.

Yet Dorian did not fall, though smoke rose from his armor and his body had begun to shake uncontrollably. More and more the electricity seemed to be affecting him, though the armor blunted the majority of its deadly effect. Eventually it was too much, and losing his balance he collapsed onto the stone floor. His body grew still, as if after the constant spasms his muscles seemed content to rest at last. Dorian struggled to maintain consciousness.

He could hear the woman drawing the exhausted wizard away, toward the stairs. The man seemed to have lost control of himself and was crying uncontrollably now. “Shut up you damned coward!” Ruth yelled at him. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I’ve never killed anyone before,” the wizard answered in a voice that sounded devoid of hope.

“Nothing’s changed then imbecile!” she shouted back at him. “He’s still breathing.”

Their voices grew more distant as they descended the stairs and Dorian struggled to move. Though his body felt like it was made of jelly he was desperate inside. Move damnitt! Move!! he yelled inwardly at his stubborn muscles and slowly but surely his limbs began to obey him again. Several minutes passed and finally he began to drag himself forward, working his way to the stairs.

Within five minutes he was walking, trying to navigate the steep staircase leading downward. More than once his legs gave out on him, sending him tumbling down five or ten feet before coming to a halt again, yet he refused to rest. He wanted to know why I won’t give up, he thought, recalling the wizard’s panicked question… because you have my friends.

By the time he reached the bottom his legs had become significantly more reliable. He noted that there were still spots of blood scattered along the way, which made his task much easier. “You should get that looked at,” he said quietly to himself, thinking grimly of the wizard he had wounded. “Man could bleed to death like that.”

He followed the path out into the castle yard; there the blood and heavy footprints of the men carrying Penny and Miriam were even easier to follow. No one along the way seemed to have seen them. “Rouse yourselves! Enemies in the keep! Close the gates!” Dorian shouted. “They’ve taken the Countess!”

Men began running as he yelled. Guards came alive on the walls, manning the battlements and scanning the surrounding area. Others approached Dorian as he walked steadily across the yard, following the trail of blood. Questions were asked but he had no time for them. “Close the damn gates, they might still be inside!” he shouted.

As he drew closer he could see that the trail had not yet reached the gate. They were moving slowly, invisibly, and trying to avoid detection. Yet his eyes spotted the end of the trail, and more fresh blood as they moved again. They were almost through the gate now. A large collection of guardsmen had gathered beside him now. “They’re right there, in front of the gate!” he yelled. “Fan out and search the area till you lay hands on them. They’re invisible,” he ordered and men moved to obey.

Men looked at him oddly, as if he had gone mad. “It’s a wizard or some servant of the dark gods, with the power to render himself invisible to sight… and they’re right there!” he shouted, pointing at the area they had to be in. As he spoke a boot print appeared on the hard packed earth, the tread of a man carrying a heavy load. Having just pointed in that direction a few of the guards saw it appear and gasps of astonishment could be heard among them.

Dorian didn’t pause, sheathing his sword to avoid the possibility of hitting Penny or Miriam he charged toward the place where his enemies had to be standing. That was when all hell broke loose.

A shadow fell across the earth and looking up he saw a beast straight out of myth and legend. The creature that was descending was sixty feet in length if it was an inch. Dark green scales shimmered in the afternoon sun and its wings seemed to block out the light.

Dorian stared at it in shock. “A dragon?” he muttered disbelievingly. Cries of fear and dismay rang out as the men of Lancaster keep took shelter. Such a thing had never been seen before but they ran instinctively nonetheless. Within seconds the courtyard had cleared and Dorian was left to stand alone.

The scaled monstrosity landed with an almost inhuman grace and delicacy, barely stirring the ground as it came to rest. Its forelegs were nearly as thick as Dorian’s chest, yet it made hardly a sound, until its mouth opened to issue a challenging roar.

Dorian gritted his teeth as he fought against his instincts. His legs had started to shake, yet he refused to look away and somehow his sword had gotten into his hand. His mind had gone blank, but deep within he could feel the stirrings of anger and despite his fear Dorian began to walk forward. The first step was slow and hesitant, but each one that followed was firmer and surer, and in a moment he was striding boldly toward the massive beast, head up and unbowed. “I will be thrice damned before I let something like you get in my way!”

Then the dragon drew itself up on all fours and took a deep breath, staring squarely at Dorian’s approach. He flinched and then stopped as it opened its mouth and exhaled, sending a wave of searing flames out to engulf him.

Dorian crouched, keeping his head down and shielding his visor with his arms until the blast of fire had passed. He felt no heat from it and realized that once again his armor seemed to shield him from more than just physical blows. In fact it had worked much better against the flame than it had against the lightning. Standing again he charged forward and threw himself against the great beast, seeking to pierce its breast with his sword.

It was a complete shock to him when he passed through the thing without the faintest resistance, as though the dragon had been conjured from nothing but smoke. Light and shadow swirled around him until he emerged from the other side. A glance backward revealed the dragon still rampaging behind him but if he had any doubts about its solidity they were dispelled as its tail swept through his chest while he watched.

Ignoring the phantom monster behind him Dorian faced the main gate. No longer distracted by the dragon he spotted the now visible abductors passing through the open castle entrance. The portcullis was part way down but had stopped before reaching the ground, held up by some invisible force. The wizard stood next to it, red-faced and sweating. It was obvious that the strain of maintaining both the illusion and keeping the portcullis from closing had pushed him to his limit.

Wasting no more time Dorian ran after them, toward the wizard first, he understood now the man was too dangerous to ignore. The older man watched him come, sweat running down his cheeks, as he tried to do too many things at once. He was almost under the heavy steel portcullis by the time Dorian reached him and he had already given up trying to maintain the illusion of the dragon.

At the end, seeing he could not escape, the stranger released the barrier that was holding the portcullis and threw himself down, trying to roll under before it struck the ground. Unfortunately for him, he didn’t quite make it, and one of the massive steel spikes ripped through his right thigh, pinning him under the heavy metal.

It also barred Dorian from pursuing the men carrying Penny and Miriam steadily away. He could see someone riding hard from the tree-line, followed by a string of horses. The abductors had obviously planned carefully, within moments they would have their targets on horseback and any chance of catching them would be much smaller.

In a fit of rage Dorian struck at the metal bars that kept him from following. Although his sword was enchanted and razor sharp the metal was far too thick to cut through, his blade kept sticking a half an inch or so into the heavy two inch iron bar. The wizard on the ground beneath him groaned audibly. “Raise the portcullis!” Dorian screamed, but he knew it was futile. The sight of the dragon had unmanned the guards. It was doubtful anyone was within earshot to obey him anyway.

Sheathing his sword, he eyed the iron portcullis carefully. He knew from experience that it weighed many tons. It was designed that way to enable it to be dropped quickly in time of emergency, and its weight was all that prevented an enemy from lifting it. Since the day he had received the earth bond Dorian had been aware of a noticeable increase in his strength and stamina, but this seemed far beyond possibility.

In the distance he could see them loading Penny and Miriam onto the waiting horses. “To hell with what’s possible,” he said and crouching down he took a firm grip of the bottom of the portcullis. Drawing a deep breath he began to lift, keeping his back straight and his arms locked while his legs strained to lift him up. At first nothing happened, but while he struggled he began to hear a great thumping beneath him, like a massive heart, beating in time with his own. Give me the strength, he thought.

Something answered his call, for he felt energy suffusing his limbs and while his face turned red and his body trembled, the portcullis began to lift. As he came up a long drawn out cry of pain and effort issued from deep within him, while the portcullis gathered upward momentum, rising faster as it approached chest height. Not daring to pause he used that momentum and centering himself under the heavy metal he thrust it upward above him.

Time slowed for a moment as he held the massive structure above him, and by all rights the weight alone should have crushed him. Looking downward he saw the wizard watching him. “If you’re going to move, now would be a good time…” he ground out slowly between clenched teeth. Comprehension dawned on the stranger’s face and he began dragging himself out of the way… leaving a trail of blood behind him.

Once he was clear, Dorian stepped outward and let gravity take its course and the massive portcullis slammed down behind him. He looked at the wizard lying on the ground on the other side. “Let them help you when they finally get over their fear of your ‘dragon’ and you might live. I want to talk to you when I get back,” he told him. He wasn’t sure if the fellow was still conscious but he thought he saw him nod an acknowledgement. The man was in such a bad state he might have imagined it.

Turning away Dorian began to run toward the group of men and horses that were beginning to ride away. They were over fifty yards away and he could clearly see Penny being held in front of one of the riders. Miriam had been slung sideways over the back end of another horse. He took that as a bad sign, since in general only corpses were slung across horses like that. If she were alive the position would do nothing to keep her that way.

Running in armor was an interesting proposition normally, something usually reserved for very short charges. In the chain mail that most men wore it was a difficult affair… the weight of the armor served as a limiting factor. In the plate armor he now wore it should have been even more awkward, not because of weight, plate actually weighed slightly less than chain, but because of the more restricted mobility the armor afforded. Yet again Mort had worked a miracle. The armor was cunningly crafted and moved very freely with his body. It still would have hindered a run, but because it worked to augment his own motions it made it feel almost as though he were running without armor at all.

It still wasn’t perfect however, and it did slow him down more than running in normal clothes would have. Fifty yards wouldn’t have been too much for a normal charge, but the riders were now spurring their mounts to a canter, creating more distance between him and those he was determined to reach. Hopeless as it was he ran anyway.

Dorian thought of nothing else besides running. He had never been a great sprinter but being tall and athletic he was no slouch either. His breath quickened as his legs drove him forward, pumping rhythmically. A minute passed and still he ran, and the riders seemed no further away than when he had started. The party ahead of him consisted of six horses bearing riders and several without a rider; those had probably been for the men he had slain. One horse carried double, having an armsman plus Penny aboard, while another carried Miriam alone slung across it like so much dead weight.

Because of the heavy burden on the horse carrying Penny and her captor the others were forced to maintain a slower pace, and incredibly it appeared to be one he could match. He pushed himself harder, hoping to close the gap though in the back of his mind he couldn’t help but wonder when his stamina would run out.

Apparently his quarry had begun to wonder the same thing. Two of the riders, who had brought the horses to meet the fugitives, were looking backward with incredulous faces as they watched him run. On the face of it, it was ridiculous… a man in heavy armor could not hope to keep up with horses, even at a moderate pace such as they were riding at now, yet he was beginning to gain on them.

Finally with a word to his fellows one of the riders turned aside and made to intercept him. Drawing his sword the man urged his mount to a full gallop, charging directly at the maniac following them. With barely forty yards between them when he turned Dorian’s opponent wasn’t able to get his horse up to full speed; not that he needed to do so.

Dorian crossed the distance rapidly while the fellow turned his horse and prepared to ride him down. They drew together with surprising speed but Dorian never slowed, opting instead to run straight for the horse rather than try to avoid it. Seconds later the animal grew large in his view and he could see its rider leaning out to catch him in the sweep of his sword. Just before they met the horse tried to adjust its course enough to avoid a collision, but Dorian wasn’t having that and he headed straight into it.

The poor beast reared as they came together and he came up under its right shoulder as it flailed and tried to keep from losing its balance. With a shock he straightened up as he passed under the horse and drove all of his momentum up and forward; the move cost him most of his forward speed, yet after stumbling drunkenly for several yards he was able to regain his rhythm and begin running again. The horse he had struck was nowhere to be seen but he didn’t pause to ponder that mystery, choosing instead to focus on catching up to Penny and her abductors. They had gained several tens of yards in distance after his collision.

Dorian ran on. His breath was coming heavily now, and he was starting to stagger every so often as he ran, but he didn’t slow. His mouth tasted of blood and iron while his lungs sounded like a raspy set of bellows, but he ran on. Those he was chasing didn’t make the mistake of sending anyone else back to delay him, but he saw Ruth looking over her shoulder frequently. She seemed surprised at his perseverance, and she didn’t give the impression that she surprised easily. Dorian grinned at the thought.

Long minutes passed and still his chase continued. They had turned off of the road near the forest, a mile or so from Lancaster, and now they were following a small trail. They had probably planned the route in advance to help avoid any patrols or pursuit, but they hadn’t counted on Dorian. The smaller trail with its tendency to wander and the occasional low limb forced the riders to slow even more and now Dorian was gaining rapidly. He was now within ten yards of the last horse, an unused palfrey following the rearmost armsman’s mount. The man had wrapped its reins loosely around the front of his saddle, keeping his hands free while he nervously watched Dorian closing on them.

The rider’s face was a study in fear as he watched Dorian draw close, till he was almost able to touch the free horse the man was leading. Drawing his sword in one economical motion Dorian neatly severed the left rear leg of the horse several feet from the ground. Screaming in pain the animal fell and began tumbling; its cries of pain combined with the jerking of the lead rope connecting it to the horse ahead of it created instant pandemonium. In seconds the trail was littered with the bodies of both horses along with the unfortunate rider.

Dorian ignored the carnage and ran on, though he was forced to leap over one of the horses as it fell. He regretted killing the horses, but at the time he had only one thought on his mind… the two people he was charged with protecting.

Ruth rode in the lead, with Penny in front of her and looking backward she gauged Dorian’s distance carefully. The look on her face worried him for a moment for it had changed. It was no longer the face of someone desperate to escape but rather the face of someone planning their next move. Drawing her sword she cut the lead line that tethered Miriam’s mount to hers, leaving the unguided horse to drift away. Then she faced forward again and leaned to the left, stretching out her sword arm, as if she meant to cut down an invisible foe.

Her action puzzled Dorian until he saw the rope, which she gracefully cut in two as she rode past, and then he felt the rumble in the ground. It was one of the oldest and simplest traps, a deadfall of cut logs piled and braced up and to the left of the trail. Once the rope was cut the supports keeping the timbers in place fell away and the logs began rolling sideways across the trail, sweeping horses and men away, like some wooden tide. The only one that escaped the trap was Ruth… along with Penny naturally.

The horse bearing Miriam’s body went down as its legs were swept sideways by the first of the rolling timbers. Luckily her ‘mount’ had been slowing down already and Dorian was nearly beside it when the cascade of logs arrived. Leaping forward he caught her as her body tumbled from its back and without knowing what else to do he dropped to the ground and tried to shield her body with his own. Chance as much as good reflexes allowed him to get her onto the ground so he could cover her body with his own before the rest of the wooden avalanche arrived.

The cut logs averaged more than a foot in diameter and they thundered and bounced across the trail, sometimes bouncing over him and occasionally glancing off of his shoulders and back. The impacts came with tremendous force and Dorian was driven hard into the ground, until he feared he might crush Miriam with his own body. Then the logs stopped coming and silence rose up suddenly in the aftermath.

Examining himself he saw that his arms had been driven into the ground past his elbows, and one knee had gouged a deep divot into the earth. Yet somehow both he and Miriam were still whole, though he still was unsure if she was alive or if he had wasted his time protecting a corpse. Everyone else, both the remaining riders and their horses were strewn, broken and mangled across the trail. It was very apparent that they were dead, though one horse was still whinnying pitifully as it died.

Pushing carefully away from the earth Dorian pulled himself free and shook the dirt loose before picking up Miriam’s still body. He carried her to the verge of the trail and laid her gently among the ferns, away from the area the logs had torn up. As he did he noticed blood seeping down his armor, staining both of his gauntleted hands where they touched her. Somewhere within the seemingly invincible plate he wore he was bleeding… probably in several places, though he couldn’t see any place where the armor had been breached or compromised.

One rider had escaped, Ruth, and with her she carried Penny. The two of them were no longer in sight but Dorian could hear the sound of the horse bearing them away. Standing upright he began walking, following the direction they had gone down the trail. His body had become a throbbing mass of pain and now that he had stopped running Dorian wondered how he had managed to do it for so long. Exhaustion and weariness had taken on entirely new levels of meaning for him.

“Faster… I have to move faster,” he told himself, urging his legs to move more quickly. Each step was agony but his legs did seem to be responding, though he couldn’t seem to manage to get past a fast walk. This went on for several minutes, while the sound of Ruth’s horse got further and further distant. Eventually he could no longer hear it at all, yet he continued to walk.

After an indeterminate time, in which the only sounds to be heard were those of his labored breathing and the noise made by his armor as he walked, he heard something new. It was the cry of a horse in pain followed by a heavy thumping sound, as if something heavy had struck the soft earth. This was followed by the sound of Penny swearing, until her voice was cut short. Silence followed.

Without realizing it Dorian had begun to run again. Energy he knew he did not possess was flowing into him and his battered body responded by running faster. Droplets of blood flew from his hands as his arms and legs churned with increasing speed. He raced forward and his pain receded into the back of his mind.

“Cut me loose!” he heard Penny shout. “I can help. At least let me defend myself!”

He knew he was close now and then he saw the forms of people ahead of him on the trail, a lot of people. They were heading along the path in the same direction he was, so most of their backs were to him. As he approached some of them turned and their emotionless stares brought the truth to his mind. Shiggreth!

Memories of that night over a year past, when he had fought a mob of them outside of Washbrook, came flooding into his head. Everything about them seemed familiar, from the strange unnatural movements to the expressionless faces. He drew his sword in a fluid motion and without slowing he drove through them, cutting aside anything that blocked his path.

The throng of shiggreth seemed endless until suddenly he broke through and found himself standing in a small clearing in the forest. Penny and Ruth stood in the center of it, next to a crippled horse. At a glance it appeared the poor beast had stepped into a shallow concealed trench, breaking both of its forelegs. Beyond the two women were more of the undead, and looking to the sides he could see them there as well… they were completely surrounded.

This is bad, really, really bad, he thought to himself. He reached the two women in seconds and wordlessly the three of them formed a triangle, each of them facing outward. Ruth had already cut Penny’s bonds and given her a sword to use. Apparently she knew enough about the shiggreth to realize their personal issues were no longer the priority.

Dorian estimated their enemy numbered at least a couple of hundred strong, which wasn’t encouraging. “I get the feeling this wasn’t part of your plan,” he said loudly over his shoulder.

“No,” Ruth answered, “it appears to be a deliberate ambush though.”

“They’ve never shown signs of being able to plan ahead like this before,” Penny interjected.

“According to the histories they were just as intelligent as men,” Ruth replied. “At least that’s what my teacher said,” she added.

“Who was your teacher?” Penny asked.

“Cyhan,” was Ruth’s reply.

“That explains a few things,” muttered Dorian, but he had barely finished speaking before the shiggreth closed in on them. None of them had time to talk after that.

The battle, if it could be called such, was short and bitter. In the open, surrounded by foes and with plenty of room Dorian wished he had the great sword he had talked to Mort about. It would have been the perfect situation for such a weapon. Instead he made do with his long sword, though he had no shield or dagger to complement it.

Of the three of them he was the only one protected from their foes weakening touch. Despite their best efforts Penny and Ruth were overcome almost immediately. He saw them dragging Ruth away while she struggled uselessly, her sword cutting flesh that could not feel its bite. Penny grew faint after being touched several times and collapsed to the ground. She might have been drawn away as well, but for the fact that he stood over her, cutting away arms and legs as they reached for her.

Standing alone he fought for an unknown time. It certainly seemed like an eternity. Despite their numbers they could not drag him down, as they once had, though they mobbed him in droves. Hands gripped his arms and legs yet he moved anyway, dragging them along as he hewed their fellows into pieces. Cutting and cursing he fought under the weight of their numbers until at the last he felt Penny dragged from beneath him as his own legs were lifted up.

He fought on, though he knew he had already failed. She was dead already and his best friend’s child with her. Tears appeared in his eyes and he wept with sorrow and rage even as the mob bore him up. The sun and sky seemed to mock his tragedy as the countless numbers of his foes tried to strip the armor from his limbs. His struggle went on hopelessly and it was a long time before the trees were cloaked in silence again.