by Joe Jackson
They all turned back toward the city. Following behind, Leighandra noted the final detail about Auremax that marked him as one of the wolf-folk: the fluffy tail. The luranar weren’t completely alien to her, but she’d never seen one so close before, and she etched his appearance in her mind in pictures and words, the lyrics of a song beginning to form as she considered this stranger in the midst of her new companions. Surely any song that featured a wolf-man would garner immediate attention from those who listened to her chronicle.
The companions found an inn nearby and settled down for a midday meal. The innkeeper made no mention of Auremax’ appearance or the presence of Yiilu’s companion. No doubt the city council would be glad for that, especially after the incidents at the gates involving the elf and the luranar. No small amount of work and instruction had gone into trying to make sure the foreign folk were welcomed, and yet there had already been several failures on that front.
Gods, I hope the czarikk ambassadors aren’t still being interrogated at the gates…
They sat staring at each other, as if no one wanted to be the first to pose a question to their new companions. The innkeeper brought drinks and food, but Auremax refused the ale put before him and requested water instead. Leighandra sipped her own ale, casting her gaze upon each of the men and women before her, the words of a song continuing to build within her soul. At last, her whistle whetted by the drink, she decided to get them all speaking.
It was too obvious and too complicated to question Galadon first, so Leighandra started things off small. “Winecellar… what sort of surname is that? Where are you from, Starlenia?”
The woman looked confused. “My family’s made and sold wine for generations; hence, Wineseller. I come from among the hill people, the Okonashai Nation north of Aurun Ch’Gurra, just outside of the traditional boundaries of the Khalarin Empire.”
“Oh,” the half-elf laughed. “I thought your surname was Winecellar… like a root cellar for storing wines.”
Starlenia chuckled, but didn’t seem as amused as the sound indicated. “And what about yours – Evenstar?”
“It was a city in the north several centuries ago that was decimated by a dragon attack,” the chronicler related. “My family lived there for as long as anyone can recount; at least since the days when my ancestors came here from Askies and settled the frontiers. They named the city and consequently took it as our surname. You may recall the city of Evenstar from the tales of the gold wyrm Taeluriel and her rider, Asceri Moonshade…?”
Galadon sat forward with his brows raised when she mentioned the dragon. “Never heard that one myself.”
“Pretty common fable in the northlands,” Delkantar commented. “I thought the legends of the dragon-riders were all but forgotten. Then Karian Vanador came flying into Chandler’s Grove on the back of Alamarise, the great silver dragon. These are indeed strange times in our homeland, friends.” He shrugged under Leighandra’s gaze. “Clintarrin is a name as old as the trees of the north; can’t tell you what it means, if anything.”
The chronicler smiled. She glanced at Yiilu but knew better than to ask an elf about their name. The people guarded their personal names and family lines jealously until one proved themselves a true friend. With the elves, that was no easy feat. And, just as expected, Yiilu made no attempt to become the center of attention and speak of herself. She wasn’t withdrawn, but was taking in her new companions as curiously as Leighandra was questioning them.
The chronicler turned to the luranar prince. He had taken off his gauntlets, revealing a gold wedding band on his left hand. That was a temptation for questions, but Leighandra stuck to her initial line of inquiry; she didn’t want him to feel she was being too nosey before she even knew the details of his name! “And you, Prince Auremax?” she prompted, her use of his title getting some attention in the common room. “Is there a tale behind the surname of Talvorus?”
The luranar marked the attention of the locals who’d looked over at the mention of his royal title. He offered a pleasant smile and casual wave, and the people left him be. “It marks us as descendants of Talvor,” he answered, but he paused before elaborating. “My people have a long and bloody history, and though we remember it, we generally prefer not to speak of it. Still, if it is for your chronicles, I suppose it is worth sharing.”
He took a sip of his water before he began, “My people are not actually from Terrassia; we originally came from an island called Tsalbrin, far to the west. Talvor was a clan chief, and ruled over one of the largest of our settlements along the shore of a southern bay. Our people were constantly at war: with the gnolls, with the bah’qitur, with just about anyone who came too close to our hunting grounds or villages – all except the elves. Over time, it became apparent to Talvor that our people were not going to survive there.”
“The elves went through similar circumstances, despite being far less war-like than we were,” he continued, glancing at Yiilu. “When they built their great ships to leave Tsalbrin for more peaceful lands, Talvor beseeched them to let us go with them. They taught our people to build ships, and as the stories say, our peoples came to Terrassia side by side. But Talvor left a marker where our ancestral home was, cursing those who would take what was ours, even in the wake of our exodus.”
“When they landed on these shores, the elves went into the forests of Laeranore, and my people… well, ended up fighting many of those they encountered here. Talvor eventually led us into what you now call the Badlands, a place few other kingdoms were interested in bothering. But we found a great and fertile valley, and were aided in settling it by the noble kwarrasti wanderers. We had only the Caerumach gnolls to contend with, but once we were settled in, we held them at bay. Now, we have established peace with them.”
He folded his arms before him on the table. “So, we are Talvorus: the sons of Talvor. Perhaps I will tell you of Saint Kaegan at some point, but that is a tale for another time.”
“Is that how your people account for it?” Delkantar asked Yiilu.
“There is certainly far more to it, but yes,” the druidess confirmed. “Our peoples’ fates have been tied together since those long-gone days on Tsalbrin. How very curious that the prince and I should be brought together here, now, to face this threat to both our nations. This time, there will be no running for our peoples; we must stand and face this threat. It is a situation I believe will bring all of our peoples closer together in the end. Whatever fool has set these events in motion… they will not garner the result they hoped for.”
“They certainly won’t,” Galadon agreed. “We may be few, but our allies are many, and those responsible for this have united nearly all of our nations against them.”
“That’s what worries me,” Starlenia said. “Is the force behind this just that stupid, or do they want us unified for some other reason?”
“I do not understand,” Auremax prompted her.
“The only nation that isn’t unified with the rest of us – at first glance, anyway – is the Khalarin Empire. Who, as I mentioned earlier, just had their queen murdered and replaced. It may be too early to say so for sure, but doesn’t it seem like someone’s goal is to either have us all crush the Khalarin Empire, or have them shatter the rest of our nations?”
The chronicler regarded Starlenia; the woman certainly put two and two together quickly. I wonder if the council meeting has gotten anywhere near as far as Starlenia in trying to sort out all of the facts, she thought. If they had to tread lightly around the shakna-rir ambassador, they probably weren’t getting anywhere fast. Would the assembly be better off if they sent the blunt woman of the hills back to verbally spar with the shakna-rir ambassador?
Leighandra wasn’t sure she could do the Okonashai woman justice with the words of her song. “That… is a terrifying prospect,” she muttered. And yet I’m glad we have such a devious mind with us if that’s what we’re going to be dealing with.
“Let us hope we get some answers this evening, even i
f they must come on the tips of our blades,” Auremax said. “This is far from what I expected when I came here, but if I am honest, this does seem more likely to produce answers than holding council.”
“I’m sure they’ll come to some helpful conclusions just comparing what they know back at the keep,” Galadon said. “But knowing what we face is only half the battle; the fight will not be won with words and knowledge alone. Thank all of you for agreeing to come and see to this issue firsthand.”
Delkantar nodded. “We’ll head back out there at dusk.”
“And catch us a necromancer.”
Starlenia snorted, and everyone looked to her. “Or several,” she muttered.
Chapter II – First Mistake
The other ambassadors were still meeting when dusk fell and Leighandra accompanied her new companions out to the cemetery. Just how much the assembly had shared or how useful it might ultimately be was more than she could say. At the least, the chronicler hoped someone was keeping careful records of all that was discussed in her absence. Her concerns about that faded along with the failing light of the sun, though.
Crossing into the cemetery now, with the light of day nearly extinguished, the sense of unease Leighandra had felt earlier in the day was staggering. Yiilu, too, was fidgety, the full-blooded elf’s eyes darting back and forth, her head on a swivel. Thus far, Yiilu had proven to be a woman of few words, but there was no mistaking her behavior. Leighandra was nervous, but her elven companion felt it all much more keenly.
Likewise, the hair on Vo’rii’s neck stood up, and the wolf’s ears and nose twitched. She looked up at her master now and then, but her attention shifted back and forth across the sprawling grounds before them. How much different did this necropolis smell to the keen nose of a wolf? Could Vo’rii detect the presence of the undead, or even just the sense of unrest that lay beneath the surface? And if she could, did that mean Auremax might be able to as well?
Leighandra cocked a half-smile. With their connection to nature, she, Yiilu, and Vo’rii would be invaluable to this group. But they were far from the only ones.
Auremax and Galadon bristled with anticipation as well. The chronicler had questioned whether the two might be paladins before, but she was certain of it now. Auremax held on to a pendant about his neck, whispering what had to be prayers in his people’s tongue. Galadon was less overt with his faith, but he still wore it on his sleeve in another sense. Whatever Leighandra, Yiilu, and Vo’rii could sense through the natural veil, these two men likewise sensed on some level through the divine.
What a godsend these two will be if this turns out as badly as we expect, she thought.
Starlenia was nowhere to be seen. The woman had disappeared into the shadows like a wraith – an ironic comparison that had Leighandra smirking as more words of her epic song fell into place. But Starlenia’s boast that she was adept at moving about unseen had been no boast at all. Starlenia may not have been an assassin, but Leighandra was pretty sure the woman could be if she wanted to. Just what did Starlenia do when she wasn’t acting as an “ambassador”? She hardly fit what Leighandra would expect from a vintner, that much was certain. It was a mystery Leighandra was intent on solving at some point.
Delkantar was making his way through the rows of graves and crypts as though ranging a forest of a different type, his long dreadlocks flying behind him. He had seen evidence of a disturbance under daylight; now, though his eyes were less useful in darkness, he was watching for new trouble to arise. As the last rays of light were cut off and the orange sky faded to pink and then purple, the ranger redoubled his efforts, crisscrossing the cemetery again and again. Leighandra had no idea who the Ghosts of Liam were, but Delkantar had the moves and bearing of a scout in addition to everything else.
Just what is life like up in those wilder northlands?
Auremax whirled around suddenly, his blue eyes wide and his nostrils flared as he took in a deep sniff. “Did you feel that?” he asked Galadon.
The human paladin turned to see what had gotten the luranar’s attention. “Feel what?” he returned, but then his eyes went wide, too. He patted the symbol of the Ghost on his shoulder in a reflexive motion, then drew the greatsword from across his back.
Leighandra followed his gaze, and the low-light vision that was her part-elven heritage saw it plainly. Dozens of corpses were clawing free of their graves, and the doors of mausoleum and crypt alike shook as their “occupants” tried to come forth.
The half-elf wasted no time earning her keep: Her human companions and possibly the luranar, too, would be night-blind. She called forth the song of power in her soul, tapping her connection to the mystical nature of the world around them. She strung strands of hovering light about the cemetery as though making notes on sheet music. It wasn’t anywhere near as strong as daylight, but it marked their enemies well, and the humans looked a bit less tense, if such a thing was possible in the face of an army of walking corpses.
Being a chronicler and storyteller by trade, Leighandra knew the legends of many kinds of the undead. Fortunately, much of what they faced seemed to be the most basic type: zombies. A number of skeletons, devoid of flesh and with only bits of old, rotted clothes clinging to them, were also ambling about the area. The makeup of this army of disturbed corpses pointed to their suspicions of a local necromancer being true. This was not the sort of display that took a great deal of power, but even as that thought crossed her mind, Leighandra grimaced.
These types might not take much in the way of power, but this number…?
“Did you see anyone?” Auremax called to Delkantar.
The ranger shrugged, but brought his blades to bear as shambling corpses advanced on him. His cuts were quick but not deep; his technique wasn’t far off from Leighandra’s own style as a duelist. It was difficult to disable the undead – particularly the skeletons without hacking and hewing – but Delkantar sliced, ducked, and weaved between the ranks of advancing corpses. Was he already displaying the skirmish tactics of the Ghosts of Liam he had mentioned at the general assembly? Whatever it was, Leighandra was impressed.
The luranar prince started to slip the shield off his back but thought better of it when he saw how disorganized and uncoordinated the undead were. Instead, he put his left hand to the end of the two-hand grip of his bastard sword. He used the large blade to terrific effect, cleaving through anything that got close to him. There was no hesitation in him; Leighandra knew that some were indecisive when it came to destroying undead, too fixated on the fact that they were once people. Auremax and Galadon held no such reservations, keeping the growing wall of walking corpses from their friends. And through it all, Auremax continued whispering under his breath in the luranar tongue.
Leighandra found her will bolstered by the paladins’ bravery. She’d never fought beside a paladin before, but the tales and legends – the recent war involving Galadon and Kalamaris not the least of them – often referenced the effect paladins had on their companions. To feel it now firsthand was an amazing thing for Leighandra, and she looked forward to writing about it in her journal when they got back to the city.
If we get back to the city, she mused, the press of the undead growing worse.
“Find the living one, Vo’rii,” Yiilu said in elvish, and then she lifted her hands and called out to the Earth Mother. Vines, shoots, and grass all around the graveyard grasped at the undead, slowing them down or even stopping them in place in some cases. The mindless corpses didn’t have the wherewithal to free themselves, so the Earth Mother’s gift was even more potent than it might have been against living adversaries. The elven druidess then followed on the heels of her faithful companion.
Leighandra started to give chase as well, but stopped short when a zombie fell in three pieces before her. Starlenia appeared from nowhere, her short blades dripping disgusting ichor from the corpse. Just as the chronicler had expected, Starlenia had a collection of knives and blades all about her person, and she obviously knew ho
w to use them well. The Okonashai woman jumped up on a tombstone and glanced about before she frowned.
“There’s no one else here but us,” she said. “No sign of a necromancer, but maybe he’s just not here in the cemetery? Can sorcery be enacted across distances?”
“I’m not certain,” Leighandra answered. “I’ve never tried to conjure an effect over a long distance, but perhaps we can trace the power back to its source.”
“How so?”
The chronicler nodded toward the luranar prince. “He sensed this before it happened; maybe he’s sensitive to necromancy? Let’s secure the area and then we’ll see.”
“Maybe it’s that nose,” Starlenia said with a snort. “I’m following the druid and her wolf. I have a feeling they’ll find this necromancer in short order.”
“Go with them,” Galadon said, gesturing for Delkantar and Leighandra to do likewise. “We’ll handle things here.”
The paladins stood side by side, in danger of being overwhelmed by the building tide of undead, yet given reprieve by Yiilu’s blessing. Leighandra hesitated a moment, watching the human paladin fighting beside his friend’s son, looking so much like mentor and student. But there was fire in Prince Auremax, and from what she could see thus far, he was well-trained. He and Galadon defended each other in turns, and they seemed to be making headway in thinning out the dozens of undead that continued to press toward them. Leighandra left them to it.
The chronicler followed after the others and found them pinned between two crypts. Delkantar was holding the line at one end, using the bottleneck of the alleyway to great effect while Yiilu and Vo’rii did the same at the other end. The druidess was calling on the trees to wrap their branches into a living wall to seal off her end, and Vo’rii nipped at anything that got too close to the elf, hamstringing the undead and pulling them to the ground.
Dashing back and forth between them was Starlenia, looking every bit like the assassin Leighandra imagined she could be. She ducked under Delkantar’s fury and danced around the pouncing wolf, stabbing, slashing, and kicking at the undead in a dance of death. She and her blades were covered in ichor, but here, like with the paladins, the tide was being stemmed.
