Ro and Margaret fought back-to-back, lightning and ice alike streaking through the army of decay. Yet still the undead came on, replacing any that the companions cut down. A row of skeleton mages stood in the background, hailing down sharp shards of ice down upon them. At one point, a skeleton mage raised his hand, and a block of ice burst from the ground beneath Ro, trapping his foot in a glacial prison.
Nalgene looked on with horror. They could not hope to win this battle, let alone survive.
He staggered to his feet, his body howling in protest. Growling, he placed his hand over his chest and let the cool water wash across him, mending his dislocated shoulder.
The serpent lunged at Fasto, eager to be rid of the pesky annoyance. The orc screamed, tears running down his face. But at the last moment, Andromeda streaked out of the shadows, tackling Fasto and driving him away from the devastating maw of the serpent.
Dozens of wounds covered Ro and Margaret, and Nalgene knew it would not be long before the two succumbed to the relentless tide of rot. Ro had blasted his lightning upon his sword, and was swinging the crackling weapon through the undead, each slice releasing a small, arcing bolt of electricity. Margaret was mounted upon a hulking zombie and was busy pummeling its shattered skull into a pool of black blood and gore.
Nalgene watched his brother, who was frantically running across the shore, trying to find something good in his pointed hat. Nalgene looked at the hat for a moment. It was his brother’s gift from Mariah. Unconsciously, Nalgene reached into his robes, and pulled forth his crystalline bottle. It was a miracle that it had not broken. He stared deep into its clear, shining water, and then looked up to the undead serpent, which was once again trying to devour Fasto.
Nalgene’s dark blue eyes glittered.
This’ll do.
Brimming with a new hope, Nalgene stomped over to the others, his crystal bottle held firmly in his hand.
“Leave this abomination to me, will ye?” Nalgene shouted, his gruff voice ringing out loud and clear in the surrounding fray. “Ye hold of the undead swarm, this bloody serpent be for me.”
The companions glanced at him, confused. What could he possibly do to this tyrant of the sea, especially alone? But, for the first time it seemed, the companions nodded in agreement. They would trust Nalgene.
He smiled and opened the bottle.
Immediately, Nalgene felt a spiritual connection with the clear water within, as if it was forged from his very life force. A warm embrace enveloped the gnome, and he felt at peace in a world of destruction.
The water swirled out of the bottle, dancing above Nalgene’s head in a tantalizing vortex. It seemed to grow and shrink, as if volume was never a construct of the miraculous liquid. It ebbed and flowed, listening to Nalgene’s every thought and will. It was part of him. It was him. The old him. But there was no time to marvel. He looked up to the undead serpent, and with a wave of his hand, sent the shimmering water at the rotting abomination.
The sparkling water soared through the air, but instead of crashing decaying beast with some terrifying power, it simply covered the serpent, swirling about it in its marvelous dance. Without warning, the water plunged, flowing into the serpent's very being, through the rotting holes and across the exposed ribs, saturating everything with its own will — the will of Nalgene.
Immediately, Nalgene felt a connection, a bonding, with the serpent. He was seeing the world from two perspectives: one of his, and the other of the serpent’s. He felt the unholy strength of the serpent, its rippling muscles twisting and pulling with terrifying power. The misty lake lapped against his serpentine body, and he looked down at the shore, the swarm of undead and his companions looking like mere insects to be crushed underfoot. Yet at the same time, he was still the gnome, able to move and breathe with his other body. He was both, together, but still separate.
Nalgene smiled. This bottle was a wondrous gift indeed.
The serpent opened its mighty maw, releasing another thunderous roar. It coiled up, and like a viper, it plunged into the horde. Its sword-like teeth cut through the undead, and Nalgene felt the rush of black blood cover his mouth, and heard the sickly crunch of bones as he crushed the vile creatures. His companions darted back in surprise, expressions of terror upon their faces. But as they looked up to the serpent, their mouths fell in awe. Instead of the two hollow eyes that they were expecting, they instead found two, deep blue eyes. The eyes of Nalgene. The serpent nodded its head and tried to give the best smile it could manage before plunging back at the undead and devastating another mouthful.
Meanwhile, the gnome continued his barrage of powerful spells, raining water down upon the battlefield. Litters of undead bodies piled up around the companions. Still more came. The gnome peered up at the foothills, where more skeleton mages were gathering, matching his torrents of water with their own display of ice. Yet there was something else coming, something bigger.
“Undead giant,” Ro gasped, looking up to the foothills. “We can’t keep going like this.”
Margaret's face spun to see the hulking beast and she smiled; her demonic fist clenched at her side. “More fun for us,” she snarled.
But Nalgene had other ideas.
“I can deal with that … er … I can,” the gnome said, pointing up to the serpent. The companions shook their heads, at a loss, but they would not argue.
They had to trust Nalgene.
The undead giant stomped down the foothills, crushing many undead under its hulking feet. Its bulky arms swung about, tearing up the earth and swatting away any unfortunate being in its path of destruction. Upon seeing the serpent, the undead giant roared, issuing a challenge.
Nalgene was more than happy to accept.
The serpent smiled and reared its slender head, ready for the fatal strike. It watched as the giant stormed down the shore. Even the once gargantuan beast seemed small in the presence of the serpent. With terrifying speed, the serpent snapped forward, its maw clamping down upon the giant. The teeth tore through the creature’s rotting flesh, and another surge of putrid blood filled the serpent’s mouth. The serpent whipped its head up, its decaying muscles straining to lift the giant high into the air. The serpent clenched its jaw, grinding down upon the bones of the great giant. Any normal creature would have been long dead, but undead do not feel pain, so the giant persisted.
Clenching its fists, the giant pummeled the head of the serpent, battering and tearing at the great skull. The serpent could not feel the pain, but Nalgene certainly could, and his head rocked in explosions of pain, each strike felt like a hammer against an anvil. The serpent growled, and bit down harder, its teeth cleaving through bone and flesh alike. There was a crunch, and a sickly tearing, and the serpent’s mouth snapped shut. Blood and gore flowed down the serpent’s maw, and the undead giant fell to the beach, severed in two.
The companions could only watch the spectacle in amazement. An undead giant, an abomination that they could barely defeat with their combined might, now lay severed upon the beach. Yet as much as Nalgene would like to celebrate, his head throbbed from the battering. He had no idea how long he could retain control of the serpent, and he would hate to unleash it back upon his companions.
The serpent scanned the mayhem, searching for its next meal. It was not disappointed. Four more undead giants approached the shore. The serpent smiled. It had made short work of the first. Surely this would be no different.
Yet looking closer, the serpent saw it was not just more hulking giants approaching. No, there was a woman, an evil enchantress who had long ago succumbed her will to the cause of the Shadow. Two, swirling wings of darkness sprouted from her back, and a mighty black greatsword was held comfortably in her small hand. She looked up, her two burning, red eyes locking onto the serpent.
Nalgene reeled, a wave of pure, agonizing hatred washing through him. His mind pounded with pain; each heartbeat seemed like a knife stabbing into his ribs. He had to get out of here. His dream … Never before had Nalgene
been so simply terrified.
He had to get the others out.
The serpent lowered its head, resting upon the sandy shore. The gnome rushed about, frantically waving his hands.
“Get on, will ye!” the gnome ordered, leaving no room for debate. They had to leave.
Nalgene already felt his grip on the serpent weakening, and a heavy exhaustion started gnawing at the edges of his mind.
The companions looked at the gnome, obviously confused.
“Get on the bloody serpent, ye dolts!” the gnome shouted. Just as the words left his mouth, a thunderous chorus of roars filled the air, and the four undead giants began their devastating charge down to the lake.
The woman had not yet arrived.
Nalgene watched the battle, his mind growing heavy and slow. This was the only way. They had to leave.
Bloody hell.
Frustrated, the gnome stomped over to the serpent, and climbed upon its head, using the jutting spines as handholds. The companions looked to the serpent, and then back to the oncoming giants. What other choice did they have? They were all worn, beaten by the endless tide of vile undead. Gashes and bruises covered their bodies, and a shard of ice protruded from Ro’s sturdy shoulder.
“C’mon, will ye?” the gnome growled, beckoning. There was no time. She was coming.
Nalgene hoped his hold on the serpent would last.
With no other option, the companions rushed to the serpent. Ro helped SmibSmob up, but he remained upon the shore until everyone else was already on. Fasto and Andromeda came next, following hastily by Margaret. Finally, Ro leaped up, and found a place at the back of the serpent’s head.
The serpent shot up, turning away from the shore.
“Take us across!” the gnome shouted, frantically looking behind him. There was no sign of the woman. Without hesitation, the serpent obliged, and snaked through the black waters of the lake, keeping its head just above the murky water. And so, the companions went, into the thick mist of the lake, away from the undead. They would never know the horror that Nalgene saw approaching.
Nalgene felt his grip on the serpent slip and he returned, once again becoming wholly the gnome. Somehow, he knew that the serpent would continue its journey across the lake, but he doubted it would listen after that.
His whole body ached, and his head throbbed uncontrollably. He reached into his cloak and pulled out his crystalline bottle. It was dull, empty of its glittering contents. He felt somehow less, as if he had lost a part of himself with the use of the bottle, and yet somehow free. Nalgene glanced down to the undead serpent, then back to the bottle. What a wondrous gift indeed.
He lay back upon the serpent, exhaustion threatening to overcome him. As his eyes closed, he felt a soothing presence in his mind. It was a swirling, shaping water that coursed through his thoughts, washing everything away. The impenetrable walls within his mind crumbled, and some of the lost memories came rushing back.
Everything went black.
Chapter 11
Fasto clutched onto the undead serpent with every ounce of willpower he could muster. His poor, dim-witted mind could barely comprehend what was happening. He knew they were fighting the massive swarm of undead, and they were losing — that was obvious even to him. And then when the massive serpent burst forth from the black depths of the misty lake, he knew it was all over. It would be the end, and he would go out protecting his friends. For that was what was important to him. Fasto protect friends. But right as he was willing to give his life, Nalgene conjured a magical, confusing, stream of water, and before Fasto could attempt to figure out what was happening, the rotting serpent began fighting on their side. Fasto was sure it had even smiled.
Fasto shook his head vigorously, his struggling brain working overtime to figure it all out. But it was beyond the scope of his simple thoughts.
And so, he held on to the undead serpent as it soared across the black lake, carrying the companions through the dense fog. Fasto looked at the others, who seemed similarly stunned at the miraculous turn of events. Ro and Margaret were on edge, their two heads swiveling about as if expecting another ghastly beast to attack them at any moment. Andromeda stared blankly into the cold fog. While her face was as hard as the serpent’s iron scales, her eyes shone with a twinkling life, such that Fasto had not seen since the prison so long ago. SmibSmob was next to his brother, a comforting hand on Nalgene’s shoulder. Fasto stared at the unconscious gnome for a long moment. It was because of Nalgene that they survived the endless torrent of undead. The gnome’s face was pale, and his hand was clenched around his marvelous, crystalline bottle. Fasto clenched his fist. Nalgene had protected Fasto. Fasto would protect Nalgene.
Fasto protect friends.
The undead serpent kept its swift pace across the murky lake. It was hard to tell how far they had already traveled, or how much farther they still had to go, as the dense fog disoriented their sense of direction. All the companions could do was hold on and pray that the rotting behemoth beneath them would not have a sudden change of heart. After what seemed like an eternity, the serpent finally slowed and came to rest upon the opposite shore of the lake.
Like an obedient dog, the serpent lowered its head to the sandy beach, and patiently waited for the companions to dismount. Without hesitation, the companions eagerly rushed off the serpent, casting wary gazes as they slowly backed away. Fasto waited until the others had climbed off the serpent's mighty crown, making sure that everyone reached the ground safely. As SmibSmob crawled down, the frail gnome tried to carry Nalgene upon his scrawny shoulders, with little success.
Without hesitation, Fasto swooped in and snatched the unconscious gnome from SmibSmob, easily hoisting him upon his own shoulders. SmibSmob’s head whipped back, his eyes wide with alarm. But Fasto merely smiled, his ugly, toothy grin doing little to put the gnome at ease.
After a long pause, SmibSmob finally relented and climbed down the serpent. Proud of his friendly deed, Fasto was quick to follow.
As soon as Fasto placed his feet upon the sandy ground, the serpent jerked up, its powerful head snapping back like the tip of a whip. Its terrifying maw opened wide, displaying the rows of spear-like teeth and the endless void of its throat. Its eyes cut across the companions, and they shrunk back from its dreadful gaze. But it did not attack. It clamped its maw shut, and without so much as a roar, it turned and disappeared into the black waves of the misty lake.
The companions stood petrified; their breaths caught in their throats. They had all seen the unparalleled power of the rotting abomination, and how it had so effortlessly dismantled the undead giants. They were less than eager to challenge it. So, they stood watch, their eyes scanning the suffocating fog, but the serpent did not return.
When their nerves settled, the rush of exhaustion from the battle overcame them like a churning tsunami, drowning them in fatigue. Without Nalgene, they had no real way to mend their many wounds. Every cut seared with fire and every bruise pulsed with pain. All they could do was hope Nalgene would wake from unconsciousness. Defeated, the companions were barely able to build a makeshift camp on the sandy shore before they collapsed into a deep slumber.
♦♦♦
Fasto awoke to the distant light from the cold sun. His entire body ached from the previous day’s ordeals, but he managed to shake himself awake. He had been the first to rise. He scanned the surrounding landscape. Even though the gray sun was almost at its zenith, it seemed darker, and more forlorn, than it had before. It was as if a permeable darkness was covering the land, casting it into an even deeper pit of despair. To the north lay the misty lake, its fog lessened from the previous day. A wide river flowed from the lake not a hundred paces to the west, making barely a sound as it wound to the south, where the land grew ever darker — as if the very Shadow was growing from that direction. As Fasto gazed to the south, his eyes rested upon a swirling black in the near distance, and an unnatural chill crawled across his body. A heart of darkness. An edifice of shadow
.
A Dreadring.
Unsettled, Fasto turned away, unable to quite grasp the vile scope of darkness he was witnessing. But while he was not sure what the swirling blackness was, he was sure that he did not want to go anywhere near it. He shivered, and he had the sense that he would much rather been in a comforting forest, away from all the despair.
Fasto glanced back to the others, who were still fast asleep. Fasto smiled, this was his opportunity. There was no doubt in his mind that his companions were lost, and that they had little idea where they were. Fasto would fix that. Fasto would help his friends. And the sand made a perfect canvas. Determination burning within his eyes, Fasto removed an arrow from his endless quiver, and gripped it tightly in his hands.
With a feral growl, he plunged the arrow into the sandy earth, and immediately tore it across, creating a massive score in the cold ground. Smiling, he continued gashing and tearing with his white arrow, sending a cloud of gray sand into the still air. A slash here, a line there, and a swirl over there. This was truly his time to shine. This would be his masterpiece. Sweat began beading upon his forehead as he continued to create his grand map. His mind churned, desperately trying to remember the path that the companions had traveled since their rescue from the prison. Another gash, and a sketchy drawing of an undead behemoth.
Fasto became so engrossed in his marvelous cartography that he did not notice the approach of the other companions, who had been awakened by the constant rain of sand. His hands reached high up to the sky, ready to make the final plunge to complete his map. He growled, but before he could finish the strike, a gentle hand rested on his shoulder, breaking him from his trance. Startled, Fasto dropped the white arrow and scrambled to his feet, scuffing some of the sand of his map.
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