The Walkers from the Crypt

by Unknown

  “Put up your blade, fool,” Elyana shouted at her opponent. “There’s no time for this!”

  “Die, wretch!”

  Elyana beat his blade aside and drove her own through the Galtan’s coat and breast. He sank to his knees, dying with a look of astonishment.

  Arcil was already holding the necklace when Elyana turned, and at the whispered word the ghostly prince had taught him, the thing fell open to reveal a glowing center. He set it amid the burned grasses.

  Elyana lifted her sword and Arcil quickly backed off, leaving the necklace with its brilliant blue nimbus.

  “Elyana!”

  The two Galtans she had but lately slain were in motion. One staggered at her, arms outstretched. The other had not even bothered climbing to its feet—it snatched at her ankle, enclosing it in a grip of iron.

  Elyana dragged it forward with her, raised up the sword, and sliced down into the amulet’s blue glow.

  She felt the magical energies of her blade thrum as she made contact with something, as if an invisible hand had slowed her descent. The pendant’s light had not diminished or dimmed. The grip on her ankle tightened. She heard Arcil shouting something and the thud of his staff against bone.

  She raised the sword higher and struck once more, and again, and a third time. Usually she wielded the weapon with more finesse, but she was tired, and, truth be told, more than a little afraid that all of their effort had been expended for naught.

  But then, on the fifth blow, the glow shimmered and lessened. She felt the grip about her ankle relax, and on the sixth strike, the magic winked out. All about her the dead dropped, hitting the soil and pavement with a rattle of bones and armor.

  There was then only the sound of Arcil panting. She turned to find the wizard leaning heavily on his staff.

  “That was very clever,” he said.

  “Did you know what I planned?”

  “I guessed. Did you like my dramatic denial?” He smiled. “I thought I did a fair job, acting. I waited for the right opening to use my ring. You certainly gave me one.”

  Elyana nodded, and bent over to wipe her blade on a dead Galtan’s clothes.

  “We make a good team, Elyana,” Arcil was saying. “I think that was very nicely managed.” He stepped over to the Galtan necromancer, the man’s limbs still shaking at random intervals. “What shall we do with him?”

  “Leave him,” Elyana said darkly, and sheathed her sword.

  Arcil appeared unsure about that. When he bent down over the fellow, Elyana thought at first he meant to deliver a mercy blow, but instead he rifled through his belongings until he rose with a book. “I fancy learning that black tentacle spell,” he said.

  “You’re not going to start dabbling in the dead, are you?” Elyana asked.

  Arcil shuddered a little. “You’re joking, right?”

  When they returned to the tower, Mirelle was waiting for them. The prince was gone.

  “We were watching from the tower,” Mirelle told them. “He told me when he felt that the necklace was in use, and he grew very sad. But a short time later he turned to me with the most amazing smile. He tried to say something, but I couldn’t hear him, for at that very moment he faded away. It was like he had never been there at all.”

  They rested in the tower for half the night. Elyana expected no trouble from any surviving Galtans, but she still roused her weary group before dawn, leaving the valley via its southern exit. Arcil might ordinarily have groused about having to share a horse, but he did not complain about having Mirelle pressed behind him on the saddle.

  By dawn they were on the southern heights, and Elyana could not keep herself from taking a final look over the valley. In the dim light, it was almost possible to imagine the ruins as they must once have been, with folk leaving the houses for their fields, hoes slung over their backs. They would have walked forth in groups, their children running ahead. Others might have pushed carts toward the city square.

  “We did it,” Arcil said. He had dropped off Mirelle’s horse to join Elyana.

  “Yes.”

  “You look sad. Against terrible odds, we came through alive. I can’t think of better reasons to be happy.”

  “I was just thinking about the prince. He loved his people so much that he destroyed them.”

  “Love,” Arcil said. “Sometimes I think we’re all better off without it.”

  “Well, then we end up with the Galtans, don’t we? Justice beyond compassion. There must be a middle path.”

  “Let me know if you find it,” Arcil said. “Right now, though, I would rather you focus on the trail home.”

  “That I can do,” Elyana told him. “That I can do.” And she turned from her contemplation of the valley, climbed into her saddle, and headed for the woods.