They fell silent as the dark trees closed around them, making the bright morning sun seem dim and pale. No undead wandered the road, but they could be heard moving through the thick underbrush all around. Aravos stopped them once, dismounting to move from member to member of the party, using his blade to cast a spell of concealment. He then had the men dismount and gather close together, leading the horses on foot with a warning to keep the beasts calm. He tore strips of cloth from the hem of his long tabard, using them as blinders for the nervous beasts.
“We are getting close,” he said, softly. “The undead closest to the tower will be aware, but my spell should hide us as long as we don’t move too quickly or make a lot of noise. We need to get to the Tower’s base so I can open the doors.”
Even Halvor nodded, too shaken by the sounds of hundreds of undead in the distance to argue. His unease only grew as they walked deeper into the dark forest. Zombies and ghouls began to appear on the road and they soon began to act less like mindless beasts and more like drones working towards a goal. The paladins and soldiers moved slowly through the scattered monsters, hardly daring to breathe as they struggled to control their frightened horses. The Tower loomed in the distance ahead, in the midst of a wide clearing in the dying trees. Vegetation had grown thick here once, but now it was fading away, overcome by the powerful evil of the undead plague. The open spaces between the Tower and the forest was filled with activity as zombies and ghouls repaired the strange throwers and managed crude forges. Many simply stood in large groups, waiting for direction from the master inside the Tower.
“Are you sure that they won’t see us?” asked Devon in a whisper, watching the wretched masses with a mixture of terror and fascination. “There are so many,”
“Vampires and other higher undead are rare,” Aravos whispered back. “And valuable. The damned king cannot control his hordes without them. One sentient to lead the horde and one to control the Tower….”
“What happens when the master dies?” asked the knight.
“The Tower raises a new master.” The Deathknight tightened his grip on his runeblade, willing the runes to life as he strengthened the spell that concealed their presence. “We need to kill the Tower’s master and destroy the heartstone, cut off the damned king’s influence.”
At that moment, a lone ghoul wandered a bit too close the the paladin bringing up the rear, a young man named Eli. Eli’s horse reared in terror, screaming at the stench and foul nature of the monster. The man swore and raised his hammer, bringing it down on the ghoul’s head before anyone could react. The horse broke free and fled, maddened by pain as the dying creature’s dirty claws ripped its side. Aravos’ spell broke and the undead came alive all around them, howling and screaming. The Deathknight roared and stabbed the ground with his blade, raising walls of ice on either side, creating an avenue to the Tower’s base. The undead poured through the opening behind them, grasping fearlessly at Eli as he fought to escape.
“Run!” roared Aravos. “Get to the Tower, now! I’ll get Eli!” He reached out, the runes on his armor and blade blazing like stars as he sent out a telekinetic blast, pulling the overwhelmed paladin to his arms as he began to run.
“Open the door!” said Halvor, taking Eli and laying him gently on the ground as the other paladins and soldiers made a wall of hammers and blades. “I’ll hold them off!”
Aravos touched his sword to the black stone and began to chant softly, struggling to ignore the sounds of fighting as the undead were funneled down the channel to the waiting men. The magic of paladins went off in great flashes of light, searing dead flesh and shattering old bones as the hammers struck home. The soldiers did less damage, their blades doing little but to knock the undead back. The runes on the Deathknight’s blade flashed brighter than ever and a seam appeared in the featureless obsidian, opening to reveal a wide, seemingly empty chamber. Halvor bellowed and slammed his hammer into the earth, raising a wall of golden fire that cracked Aravos’ ice and threw the wave of undead back upon itself. The paladins broke their line and ducked inside, too quickly for the undead to recover. Aravos waved his blade and shouted a command and the Tower door slammed shut.
He spun around, blade raised, wary of attack from the Tower’s defenses. Devon and several paladins took to his side as Halvor knelt beside the injured Eli. Ghouls’ claws and the rusted blades of zombie soldiers had torn at his armor, pulling several plates away and piercing the flesh beneath. The man’s face was twisted with pain as blood began to pool on the smooth floor. Halvor put his hand on the man’s head, closing his eyes as he uttered a prayer to the light. It was a powerful spell that should have healed Eli’s injuries in a heartbeat with a flash of light and warmth, but here in the tower it was weakened, barely stemming the flow of blood.
“Your healing miracles won’t work in here,” Aravos said grimly as he knelt beside the paladin. “Here, let me…”
Halvor stared at Aravos with a mixture of anger and helplessness for a moment before moving aside. The Deathknight took Eli’s hand and put it on his runeblade, placing his other hand on the dying man’s forehead. Eli gasped as the strange magic took hold, weaving a web of runes around his injuries. The pooling blood began to recede, fading back into the wounds as the flesh knit back together, leaving fine white scars. Eli’s eyes widened and he sat up, white and weakened but healed.
“Be ready,” said Aravos, wiping the sweat from his brow. “This isn’t over. We have to kill the Tower’s master, and light only knows what defenses he has set.”
The floor shivered slightly as a deep rumble shook the walls. Aravos looked around at the others as their faces drained of blood. “The master knows we’re here….”
The paladins and soldiers gathered behind the Deathknight, seeming for the first time to accept his guidance without question. He lead them down a short hallway, lit by strange candles set in jagged alcoves. It almost immediately opened up into a second chamber, set with torches and a wide stair leading up to a second level. Several doorways opened into darkness on the far side of the chamber. Aravos had barely set foot in the chamber when something large and misshapen leaped from the shadowed door in the center, roaring over the sound of chains. He jerked back, slashing with his sword as the werewolf slammed him to the floor. Devon reacted first, driving his still consecrated blade into the monster’s back. Halvor was only moments behind him, his massive hammer catching the wolf in the side and lifting it into the air and nearly wrenching the knight’s sword from his hands. Aravos rolled to his feet, gathering his magic to cast a ball of ghostly fire at the creature as it fell. It’s fur aflame, the werewolf howled angrily and attacked again, hindered by a heavy iron collar and chain. Halvor swung his hammer, smashing the beast into the ground, shattering its bones as the holy weapon seared its fur and skin.
The animal writhed, the magic of its curse beginning to repair its broken body. Aravos loomed up out of the shadows and drove his runeblade into it’s skull. The sword was not holy, nor was it silver, but its magic was strong and the beast went still. He pulled it free and swept the wolf’s head from its body. Devon watched in horror as the corpse began to smoke, fading away into the broken body of a man. The knight shivered.
“The curse can’t pass to us can it?” he asked nervously.
“No,” replied Aravos. “Only bites and profane rituals can pass it on. Come on… there could be more.”
Halvor walked beside him as they walked up the wide stairs, his great hammer shining with a slight golden light as he gathered his magic. Devon followed close behind, rubbing the holy amulet still bound to his sword’s hilt as he whispered a prayer to the light. Eli came last, his face drawn and weary but still lit by the power of the light.
The second floor was deserted and seemed to be completely unfurnished but for a second stair near the wall. Without warning, the chandelier lamps went out and they were left in complete darkness. The company froze as Aravos shouted for them to hold still.
“This is a spell,” he said urgently as he realized even the light from his runes and Halvor’s hammer was gone. “Hold still!”
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