"Dusk Of Innocence: Chapter 6" by Danielle D. Reynolds

Chapter 6

            As they approached Brue Village the next morning, they could see plumes of a grey smoke billowing into the air.  Marta gasped.

            “Let’s hurry,” Markas said.  The other quickly picked up the pace.

            They could see a young man staggering towards them.  His clothes were torn and his face bruised. 

            “Marta!” he cried and then sunk to his knees as the approached him.

            “Henri!” Marta cried as she rushed forward and threw her arms around him, “What happened?”

            “Must hurry,” he gasped, “Raiders…the village…everyone is locked in the inn…I escaped…the fortuneteller…he…he…”

            Henri’s eyes rolled back and his body went slack.  Marta shrieked.  Markas ran over and used his holy symbol to heal Henri.  Henri’s eyes rolled back and he groggily shook his head.

            “Stay here with him,” Markas said to Marta as he stood up.  He mounted Kirin and started toward the village.  Emily and Ian quickly followed, but Jonathan paused.

            “Perhaps, I should stay…” he began.

            “You’re coming,” Markas cut him off tersely.  Jonathan quickly followed.

******

            The acrid smell of smoke filled Emily’s head as they entered the village.  The raiders, dressed in rough hides like those at the inn, were scurrying about like rats, carrying things out of the houses.  If it was valuable, it was thrown in a large wagon.  Otherwise, it was tossed into one of the many large fires that had been lit in the square.

            “Stop!” yelled Markas.

            The thirty or so raiders stopped, stared at Markas for a second, and then dropped whatever they were carrying, pulled out their weapons and charged towards the small group.

            “Crap,” Ian muttered, sword ready.

            Instinctively, Emily reached into her pouch and pulled out a handful of fine, silvery threads and slammed them into the ground.

            “Impedementia!”

            Fluffy, silvery webbing floated up from the ground underneath the raiders’ feet.  The silvery tendrils that made up the web began to wrap themselves around the raiders’ legs.  As they tried to free themselves, they only became more and more entangled in the webbing.  Some tried to hack at it, but their weapons and arms became entangled as well.

            “Good job,” Ian said to Emily, then turned to help Markas handle the eight or so who had managed to avoid Emily’s spell.    

            Emily felt a small surge of pride but she didn’t dwell on it, instead casting ghost arrows to help Markas and Ian.  She glanced over at Jonathan expecting him to be shooting his own real arrows, but he just stood there, mouth open.

            “Jonathan!” she yelled.

            “Oh…sorry,” he said his face pale white.  He reached for his bow and started shooting arrows, though he seemed to be hitting few of his marks.

*****

            Ian and his sword were one as he finished off another raider.  He turned around to see Markas on Kirin chasing the remaining few down   He was about to go help Markas when he heard a voice boom behind him.

            “What’s going on here?”

            Ian turned around and saw him, kobold at his side.

            Krumar.

            Ian charged and quickly as he could and with one blow knocked the kobold as hard as he could.  The kobold went flying and Krumar, still surprised by the attack, let go of the chain.

            “Emily!” Ian cried, “Keep that kobold busy. Krumar is mine!”

            Ian faced the large man.  Krumar smiled and grabbed his sword.

            “Am I supposed to be afraid of you?” he grinned.

            “Yes,” Ian replied and charged at Krumar.

            Krumar was ready and tried to parry Ian’s sword but Ian broke through Krumar’s defense and elegantly turned around and landed his blow. 

            “Hmm,” Krumar said as he swung at Ian, “You’re better than you look.”

            Ian parried the blow, “I have a few questions for you. Surrender now and I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt too much.”

            “Ha ha.  So confident. I like that, makes it so much more fun when I gut you.”

            “Well, then I’m sorry to disappoint you, but,” Ian smiled and in one swift move, he disarmed Krumar, sending the large man’s sword flying.  Ian pointed his own sword squarely at the large man’s chest.

            “Now, like I said, I have some questions for you.  If you surrender now, I promise I won’t make this hurt too much.”

*****

            Emily cheered silently inside.  The raiders had been subdued.  She took the extra step of casting a sleep spell on those who had been entangled in her impednmentia spell.  Markas and Ian had taken down the few who had managed to avoid the web.  She had frozen the little kobold.  And now Ian had defeated the leader of the raiders, Krumar.  The only one they had to find was the fortuneteller. 

            Just then, a sinister laughter echoed through the village square.  An elf dressed in ornate black scholar robes materialized behind Krumar.  He tossed his long, golden blonde hair back carelessly as he continued to laugh.

            “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that,” he said, turning to Ian, “Krumar still has his uses.”

            The elf extended one of his long, slender fingers and tapped Krumar on the shoulder, causing him to suddenly disappear.

            “No!” Ian screamed, “Bring him back!”

            The elf raised his hand and a large blast of red energy threw Ian back several feet.        

            “Ian!” Emily and Markas yelled as they ran over to him.  As they approached, Ian groggily stood up.

            “He’s fine,” the elf drawled, “I didn’t kill him.  I still might, but I haven’t yet.”

            “Who are you?” Markas demanded.

            “A Golden Gryphon?” the elf said, amused, “Now I was pretty certain that I had wiped you all out.”

            “What?” Markas replied.

            “Fool.  It was my army of undead that destroyed the Golden Gryphons.  I was certain that I had killed you to the man.”

            “Well, you didn’t,” Markas said, gritting his teeth, “I’m still here.”

            “Hmmm,” the elf mused, “Well, we’ll see how much longer I allow that.  I am curious how you survived.  What’s your name?”

            “Sir Markas Tau.”

            “Well, Sir Tau, how did you survive?  If I had to guess, I’d say you’d have to be a bit of a coward.  Is that it?  Did you go and hide while my army annihilated your comrades?”

            “No,” Markas growled, “And if you call me a coward again, I suggest you be ready to defend yourself.”

            The elf laughed.  He laughed so hard he doubled over.  Markas brandished his axe and started to step forward, but Emily grabbed his arm.

            “What?” Markas said, “Someone has to stop this fool.”

            “That fool is casting spells without verbalization,” Emily whispered, “It takes a very advanced degree of magic to do that.  There are maybe three, four wizards in all of Carsonia who can do that.”

            Markas lowered his axe and whispered, “What do we do then?”

            “I don’t know,” Emily whispered back.

            The elf finished laughing and looked up.  His silvery blue eyes fell on Emily.  Emily felt as if her heart had suddenly turned to ice.

            “Who are you?” the elf said, slowly.

            “Emily Rosewood,” Emily replied, just as slowly, unsure what the elf was up to.

            “Rosewood,” the name dripped off his tongue.  He looked her over once more, “A scholar, I see.  And judging by your age, maybe out of university, what a year?”

            “No,” Emily replied, feeling a resolve she didn’t know she had in her.

            “No? Then how long?” the elf quizzed her.

            “I did not attend university.  I have been apprenticed to Ivanus Arcanus of the Tower of Secrets since I was an infant,” Emily replied.  Every scholar worth his spellbook knew who her uncle was.  She hated to rely on his name but maybe if she could bluff him, make him think she was more powerful than she was, maybe she could buy them a little time.  She knew why she went cold when he looked at her, at her friends.  He meant to kill them, there was no reason why he wouldn’t.  He was just toying with them.  She could see it in those cold, cold eyes.

             “Interesting,” the elf mused, “The resemblance is remarkable.  Who are your parents?”

            “I’m an orphan,” Emily replied, her stomach turning, “I told you that Ivanus has raised me since I was an infant.”

            “Hmmm,” the elf said, taking a step closer to Emily, his eyes suddenly gleeming, “You have very beautiful eyes.  The green in them, it’s very unique.  I’ve not seen eyes that sparkle like that in some time.  They make me feel like I know you already.”

“Yes, but we still don’t know who you are,” Ian interrupted, clutching his side.

The elf bowed, “I am Darklore, Lord of Decadris.  And since Sir Markas and Miss Emily have been good enough to introduce themselves, who are you?”

“Ian.”

“Just Ian?” Darklore asked, smiling.

“Yes.”

“How appropriate,” Darklore replied, “No name for a nobody.”

“Nobody or not, you terrorized this village and helped a known criminal escape,” Ian said, up righting himself and lifting his sword, “You have a lot to answer for.”

Darklore laughed again. His laugh was cold, hard, and sharp.  A chill ran up Emily’s spine.

“My, my.  You are just as amusing as Sir Markas,” Darklore finally said.

Ian and Markas readied their weapons.  Emily had a spell ready, her fingers ready to trace the sigil.  But her spell wasn’t for Darklore.  It was shield that would hopefully protect Ian and Markas if they had to fight.  But even then, Emily wasn’t sure how effective it would be.  Darklore was powerful; she could practically feel the magical energy emanating from him and it was beginning to make her feel a little dizzy.

“And where are you going?” Darklore said suddenly, turning to Jonathan who had been backing away, “That’s very rude.  You haven’t even introduced yourself yet.”

“Jon..Jonathan…Silver..r..r..th..thorn,” he stammered.

“A dirty half-human,” Darklore sneered, “Well, the others have given me reasons not to kill them on the spot.  I offer you the same chance.”

“Emily’s…a…a half-elf too,” Jonathan faltered.

Darklore grinned, “Yes, I suppose technically she is.  But she is a far better quality one than you.  Pathetic.  Death, I guess then…”

A large silver ball or energy appeared in Darklore’s hand.

“No!” Emily cried out.

“No?” Darklore paused, looking at Emily, “He really is pathetic and I so feel the need to kill something.  I’ve really been showing quite some restraint.  Why shouldn’t I relieve the world of this waste of space?”

“Because he is our friend,” Emily said, her whole body shaking, “If you try to harm him, we will be forced to fight you.”

“I could kill you all,” Darklore said, smiling sinisterly.

“You might have to if you try to kill Jonathan.  We could not just stand by and let you kill him,” Emily replied bracing herself.

Darklore stared at her intently.  Emily could feel his gaze trying to intimidate her, to break her.  Finally, he smiled a sort of queer smile that was not threatening but not warm either.  There was a smugness about it Emily couldn’t place.

“Very well, m’lady,” he said, bowing to Emily, “I’m afraid your eyes have me enchanted.  I cannot harm you, so I suppose I cannot harm your ‘friends’ either.”

Emily sighed.  He wouldn’t kill them; she saw it in his eyes.  Something about her, he didn’t want her dead.  She didn’t understand why, but she still got a sick feeling in her stomach as he looked at her.

“Well, my dear,” he continued, “I would like to stay and chat some more but I have quite a busy schedule.  My army is about to lay waste to the Temple of Sylva.  And of course I want to stop by and have a chat with Ivanus.  I haven’t spoke with him in ages.  And I should probably destroy this village before I go.  It’s served its purpose.”

As the last words left his lips, Darklore’s skin began to melt.  Quickly, it fell off in large fleshy lumps to reveal an ebony skeleton.  He held up his skeletal hands and a sphere of glowing green energy began to form between his hands.

“I must be going my dear,” he said turning to Emily, “You and your ‘friends’ might want to start running before this hits the ground.”

And with that, Darklore vanished.  Emily quickly ran forward and caught the ball of energy incasing it in a silvery sphere of her own.

“Hurry…warn the temple…evacuate the village…” she said, straining to contain the spell. 

“Emily?” Ian asked.

“Please…I won’t be able to hold it very long.”

“Jonathan, come with me,” Markas said, mounting Kirin, “Ian, you evacuate the village.”

*****

            Markas felt Jonathan squirm behind him.  He had never flown with someone else and he knew that Jonathan’s weight was probably slowing Kirin down, but he didn’t want to leave Jonathan and Ian alone together if he could help it. 

            They quickly soared over the quiet forest below, quickly approaching the temple.  They landed and Markas jumped off Kirin and ran inside. Standing in the temple’s main chamber was a solitary druid.

            “You there,” Markas called out, “Where is everyone?  You’re all in great danger.  You must leave.”

            “I am sorry visitor,” she said softly, “But I am the only one who is available to help you.  The conclave has begun and may not be disturbed.”

            “An army of undead is heading for this temple,” Markas said, “You all have to evacuate.”

            “We can’t,” the young druid pleaded, “We are in conclave.”

            “Look, you don’t have to interrupt the whole conclave, just Silnas.  Tell him Emily’s friend Markas is here.  Tell him what I said about the army of undead.”

            The druid paused as if she was about to say something then nodded and ran off.  A few second later she returned followed by Silnas.

            “Sir Markas, I hope this is not your idea of joke,” he said.

            “I’m afraid not.  An evil lich by the name Darklore has raised an army of undead.  It’s the same army that wiped out the Golden Gryphons.  It’s on its way here. You have to evacuate.”

            “I’m afraid we can’t,” Silnas said, “The druids of Sylva are sworn to protect this forest.  If such an army approaches, we will have to stay and defend the forest and this temple.”

            Markas sighed.  He looked around at the plant walls and wondered how they could be defended.

            “Thank you, Sir Markas, for your warning,” Silnas continued, “You should get going before the army arrives.”

            Jonathan turned to leave, but Markas grabbed his arm, “We’re staying.  You’ll need all the help you can get.”

            “Thank you,” Silnas said, “Follow me.”

 They followed Silnas out to a large open air amphitheater filled with hundreds of druids who began to whisper as they entered.  They walked down to the stage where a beautiful elf with pale green skin stood.

“Silnas, what is the meaning of this?” she asked, “What has happened that would require interrupting the conclave?”

“My lady Oleria,” he said, “Sir Markas brings news of an army of undead that heads toward the Temple of Sylva as we speak.”

“An army?  Is this the great disturbance we have felt?  How is this possible?”

“My lady,” Markas said stepping forward, “It is possible.  This army has already annihilated the Golden Gryphons.  It may arrive at any moment.  I would advise that you all evacuate, but Silnas has told me you are sworn to defend the temple.”

“Yes, good sir knight,” Oleria replied, “We are.  We shall defend her to the very last.”

“My lady,” Silnas said, “If Sir Markas is correct, it may be prudent to send the neophytes away.”

“Yes, it will be,” she replied, “But the rest of us will be required.  The Archers and the Guard shall assemble in front of the temple to face this challenge when it comes.  The rest of us shall see to reinforcing the walls of the main chambers in order to protect the temple.  The neophytes will go to Brue Village.”

“My lady, I’ve just come from Brue Village.  It has been attacked by raiders and the lich who leads this army, Darklore, left powerful magic to destroy the village.  Send them to Carsonia.  There they can get word to other officials of other temples of what has happened.  Furthermore, it would be futile for your guard to take Darklore’s army head on.”

“Well, then what do you suggest, Sir Markas?” Oleria asked.

“Is it possible to get to the roof of the temple?”

“The temple is a living, breathing entity.  We can shape it into whatever we need.  We can make stairs to the roof if need be.”

“Then reinforce the main chamber as much as possible.  Have your guard and archers on the roof with myself and Jonathan here.  I will create a beacon of my god.  This will weaken the undead.  Then we will barrage them with arrows and whatever druidic powers you have available.  The beacon will only last a few minutes but, hopefully, that will be adequate.  If we can hold out long enough, perhaps we can get reinforcements from Carsonia.”

“Very well Sir Markas,” Oleria replied, “I will take your council in this matter and ask you along with Silnas to lead our forces.  You all have heard the plan.  Archers and Guard of the Seer, prepare for battle.  Neophytes, prepare to make haste to Carsonia.  The rest of you follow me into the temple.  We have much work to do.”

*****

            Ian watched as Markas and Jonathan flew off.  He looked over at Emily.  Her skin was very pale and large drops of sweat were beginning to drop of her forehead.

            “How long can you hold that?” he asked.

            “Twenty minutes…maybe thirty,” she said through gritted teeth.

            Ian looked around and saw Marta and Henri walk into the village.  He ran over to them.

            “Quickly!  Your village is in danger.  We need to evacuate everyone as quickly as possible.”

            “A merchant ship stopped in the docks yesterday to re-supply,” Henri said.

            “Perfect,” Ian said as he started to run over to the inn.  He cleared the debris away from the front of the door and threw it open.  The villagers cheered but Ian quickly tried to quiet them.

            “You are still in grave danger.  There is a spell that will destroy your village.  Right now, my scholar friend is keeping the spell from happening, but she won’t be able to do it very long.  You all must hurry to the merchant boat at the docks.”

            “Where should we go?” one man asked.

            “Go to Carsonia,” Ian said, “And report to the Captain of the Guard what happened here.  Now hurry!”

            Ian watched as the people of Brue village as they rushed down to docks.  He had to stop a few who wanted to run back and get some possession. But otherwise it went very smoothly.  As the boat was preparing to leave, Ian saw Henri walk towards him with three horses.

            “I don’t think they’ll be room for those on board,” Ian said.

            “They’re not for us, they’re for you.  Miss Rosewood and yourself will also need to make a quick retreat,” Henri said, handing him the reigns, “The third one is for your other companion.  Marta wanted to make sure we repay you all in some way.”

            “Thank you,” Ian said, “But we didn’t do anything.  We couldn’t save your village.”

            “You saved our lives,” Henri said.

            “I’m just sorry we couldn’t do more,” Ian replied, “You better hurry.  I’m not sure how much longer Emily can hold out.”

            “Farewell, then,” Henri said as he ran out to the boat.

            “Farwell.  Take care of Marta,” Ian called out.

            He turned back to the square.  Emily was ghostly white now, soaked in sweat, her entire body shaking.

            “Emily, can you mount this horse?”

            “Not…without….putting….this down…”

            Ian reached down and carefully picked her up. Her body quivered violently in his arms but he managed to get her up on her horse.  He then mounted his own horse.

            “On the count of three let go of the spell.  Then ride like mad to get out of here.  Ready?”

            Emily nodded her head.

            “One, two, three,” Ian counted.  On three, Emily dropped the spell.  Neither of them paused to watch it hit the ground.  Instead Ian urged his horse into a fierce gallop and could hear Emily doing the same.  He held his breath until he heard a large explosion.  Suddenly, there was an intense heat coming from behind him.  It grew warmer and warmer, until a large force slammed into his back.

            As he tumbled from his horse, Ian looked around.

            Damn, where is Emily?

*****

            Markas stood atop the Temple of Sylva.  He could not quite see over the canopy of the trees, so he could not see if the army approached.  His instinct was to jump on Kirin and scout out to see if he could locate the army.  However, he fought that instinct—he was not prepared to loose another sacred place because he was out patrolling.

            He looked around at the Archers and the Guards of Sylva.  Neither group were actually soldiers, none of them had been trained for battle.  He looked around at their anxious faces and could sympathize.  He, at least, had been trained for this.  He had his training he could fall back on; he could use to stabilize himself as they waited.  The Archers, however, had been trained as elite hunters.  They usually worked alone, hunting down a single abomination that might wander into the forests’ protected boundaries.  The Guard of the Seer was a select few druids who had been trained to use the awesome powers of nature in combat.  Their main job was to protect the Seer, sometimes running her errands in the world at large.  Neither group had any training in large scale war or battle tactics.  Their fear was palatable, though they all did their best to hide it.

            Markas turned towards them and said, “Remember, wait for me to release my beacon.  That will be your signal.  The beacon will weaken them greatly and make your own attacks more effective.”

            Several of them nodded mutely in reply.

            “Yes,” Silnas said, stepping next to Markas, “Follow Sir Markas’s plan.  Remember, you have been trained to fight undead.  I know it was not an army of undead, but still, you know their weak points.  Use your training.   And remember, you fight for our great mother, Sylva.  She is with you now—in the trees that surround you, in the air you breathe, in the sunlight that beats down on your skin.  Feel her.  Harness her power.  She will be with you when you go into battle.  Blessed Sylva!”

            “Blessed Sylva!” the Archers and the Guard cried in return.

            “You aren’t a rank and file druid, are you?” Markas asked as he turned to face Silnas.

            “No,” Silnas said, “I am an elder.  One of five who oversee all the druids of Sylva.”

            “How come you didn’t tell us this?  Emily didn’t even know, did she?  And I assume she’s known you for quite some time.”

            “Amongst the druids, my rank has little meaning other than the extra responsibilities I assume.  I am of the same importance as the newest neophyte.  We all serve Sylva.  We all do our duty to the best of our ability.”

            “I understand.”

            “I thought you would,” Silnas said smiling, “You are…”

            But Silnas stopped, his eyes growing large.

            “What’s wrong?” Markas asked.

            “The forest is silent.”

            Markas listened.  It was silent—no birds, no crickets, no leaves, no wind.  The vacuum of noise unsettled him.

            Then he heard it.  It started out as a light whooshing noise.  Then grinding and clanking noises followed.  Then he heard the noise he had been dreading—the low, murmuring moans of the undead.

            “Ready!” Markas shouted, “They come!”

            As the noise approached, it grew louder and louder, like a large wave. The wave crashed and suddenly the undead army came swarming through the trees.

            “Wait for the beacon!” he shouted.

            Zombies with their rotting flesh, skeletal warriors clad in rusty armor, animated corpses—they all came oozing out between the trees as if they were one large mass of decay.  Markas looked over at Jonathan who had turned a sickly shade of green.

            “Don’t worry,” Markas said, smiling, “You get used to the smell.”

            That really didn’t seem to comfort Jonathan any, but Markas had more important things to worry about.  The undead were almost at the temple wall.  He placed his hand on his holy symbol, raised his other hand into the air, and cried out, “By Torus’ will I denounce you, foul creatures of Decadris!”

            A bright gold light appeared above the army causing them to crouch and shriek in agony.

            “Now!” Silnas yelled.

            The druids let forth a torrent of arrows and nature.  Fire fell from the skies.  Lightening crackled into the army below.  The air was so thick with arrows that a fly couldn’t have flown between them.  When they were done, piles of undead lay at the base of the temple.  A cheer went up from a few of the druids, but quickly faded as they watched more undead surround the temple, completely covering the mass of fallen corpses.  Quickly, they began tearing and slashing at the temples living walls.

            “Again!” Markas shouted.  The druids began their assault again.  Even though they were taking many down, more would just pour through the trees to take their place.

            “Quickly, downstairs!” Silans called, “They will break through any minute!”

            Everyone rushed down to main temple chamber where they joined the other druids who were concentrating their energy into maintaining the temple walls.  Around them, they could hear crack after crack as the undead relentlessly continued to tear at the temple walls.   Everyone was holding their breath, waiting for what seemed to be inevitable.

            “Children of Sylva,” Oleria said as she stepped into the center of the room, breaking the silence.

            “My lady,” Silnas said, interrupting her, “You must go hide.  You must protect yourself.”

            “No Silnas,” Oleria said gently, “This is the sacred temple of Sylva, my mother and goddess.  I, like any other of her faithful, will defend it to the last.  For the great mother!”

            “For the great mother!” the other druids cried.

            The cracking grew louder and louder.  One by one, undead soldiers began to poke through holes in the walls.  The druids would attack them and try to patch the hole.  But the undead were like water behind a dam, going to break through at any second.

            Was this what is what like at the citadel before it fell? Markas thought, Were my comrades inside, waiting for their last battle?  Is this my last battle?

            Suddenly, large holes broke open on three sides of the temple and the undead came massing through.

            Whatever your will, Torus.

            “For the Glory of Torus and the honor of the Golden Gryphons!” Markas shouted as he charged at the undead, battle axe raised.

*****

            Ian stood up.  He hadn’t been harmed in the blast.  His horse was standing nearby and next to it was the other horse and Emily’s horse with Emily slumped on top.

            “Emily!  Emily, are you ok?” Ian shouted as he ran over.

            Groggily, Emily sat up.

            “Yes, I think so,” she said weakly, “The villagers got away?”

            “Yes,” Ian said, as he helped down off her horse, “The villagers escaped by boat.”

            “Good.  I’m sorry I couldn’t dispel that magic,” Emily said, “It took everything I had to contain it as long as I did.”

            “Don’t worry,” Ian said as unrolled his bed roll, “You saved those peoples lives.  If it weren’t for you, we may have never even gone there.  Now get some rest.”

            “But the temple…Markas…” Emily said wearily, “We need to…we have to go help them.”

            “We will,” Ian said as he lifted Emily off her horse and set her on the bedroll, “But you’re in no condition for another battle. We have horses so we can get there rather quickly.  So rest.”

            “You should at least go,” Emily said as she collapsed on the bedroll, “You aren’t tired.”

            “I can’t leave you here defenseless,” Ian said as he sat next to the bed roll, “Now rest.  The sooner you rest, the sooner we can be on our way.”

            “I’m sorry,” Emily said as drifted off to sleep, “I’m sorry I’m so weak.”

            “You are probably one of the strongest people I’ve ever met,” Ian whispered as Emily drifted into unconsciousness.  He grabbed his flask and took a sip.     

*****

            Pain seared through all of Markas’s body.  His axe felt so heavy, but if he put it down, if he stopped, he was certainly dead.  The undead continued to swarm around him.  He couldn’t see anyone else—Oleria, Jonathan, Silnas, or even Kirin.

            I can’t stop now.  If this temple falls, Darklore will push his army on—on to Carsonia, to Argenault.  It must end here.

            A surge of skeletons and zombies knocked him down.  He tried to get up but they were covering him, holding him down.  This was it.

            Torus, I seek your mercy.  Do not let me become one of them.

            As he awaited that final blow, he thought he heard a trumpet sound.

            “By the Shining Light, I banish thee retched creatures,” a strong voice bellowed.

            A sparkling light filled what was left of the temple.   The zombies and skeletons shriked and writhed on the floor.  Markas stood up and saw a knight on a large grey horse.

            “Hurry!” the knight called, “While they are weakened!”

            Markas looked around and saw about thirty knights and several elven soldiers, as well as many of the druids.  Quickly, he took up his axe and began dispatching the undead.  With the new reinforcements help, they began to drive back the army of undead.  They would have completely wiped them out but, as if listening to an unheard voice, the undead retreated back into the forest as quickly as they had attacked.

            As the knights prepared to chase down the remaining undead, Markas saw Kirin who was about to go along for the chase.  He whistled and Kirin turned her head and bounded towards him.  She cawed loudly and nuzzled him with her beak.

            “Yes girl, I’m glad to see you too,” he said as he patted her side, “But we still have work to do.”

            Markas mounted Kirin and was about to ride off and join the other knights when the knight on the grey horse rode over.

            “Sir Markas Tau?”

            “Yes?” Markas replied, puzzled.

            The knight removed his ornate helmet.  He had a strong face and flawless dark skin.  Only the grey at his temples and depth of his brown eyes revealed that he was probably a lot older than Markas.

            “I am Sir Crispin Tiberius of the Order of the Shinning Light.  I was afraid I was going to miss you when I left to come here, but it seems that the gods have brought us together anyway.”

            “Yes, sir,” Markas replied, “I was on my way to Argenault when I received a request for help from Brue Village.”

            “I see,” Sir Tiberius responded, “Well, let’s hurry and finish up with these blighted.  We have much to talk about.  Very much to talk about.”