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Written by Jaz

"Pray, sirs, make haste," I said, quite without being serious. The twelve skeletons following me provided a nice ambient sound with the slight grating of their bones; there had been a similar velvety clatter when the wind had caused the hanged man in the castle yard to swing. I had loved the sound then, and still loved it.
Of course the 'sirs' - which had been resurrected to their un-life by magic- did not have the slightest trouble to keep my pace, but as long as there was no imminent danger (or they were not ordered to attack) they always remained that one respectful step behind their summoner.
The sizzling hiss of one of my companions let me turn my head in the direction of a grassy slope to our left; I saw the silhouette of a big, plump scavenger. The carrion bird was engrossed in gobbling down the edible parts of something which looked like the remains of a goblin creature.
I nodded.
"Well then, my trusty minions. Get us something to eat."
The two skeletons to my left instantly stepped out of line and sped towards the scavenger with the puppet-like grace particular to this 'species' of undead. The bird obviously could not make anything of the quickly approaching skeletons; perhaps it saw them as two walking food trays engulfed by an electrifying aura. In any case it did not betake itself to flight, and in the next moment my splendid warriors were upon it. Two quick strikes, a desperate squawk, and the bird's carcass lay in a spreading pool of a dark liquid.
"Well done, sirs," I praised the hunters' swordsmanship. Then I stepped up to the dead scavenger to separate some of the tasty meat from its bones with a razor. After I had carefully wrapped my future meal in a piece of cloth and put it in my pack, I ordered my undead companions to follow me again.

When we were finally approaching Cavalorn's hut, I briefly thought about releasing my host of skeletons from their pledge of fealty so they could return to their respective graves to rest; the undead in general enjoyed great unpopularity among the living. According to Corristo, even the majority of mages dreaded those who had been raised from the dead… something I could not quite comprehend, as I had so far found them to be of great use.
Poor Corristo.
The man who had been my first mentor in the arcane arts was dead now himself, they said, murdered by Gomez' goons. Perhaps he might still live had there been a host of mighty skeleton warriors at his disposal…
…but those were idle thoughts.

The low, rolling thunder of the magical barrier brought me back to the present.
Bolts of lightning branched across the barrier's otherwise invisible surface, lighting up the night sky above the colony… a gentle reminder of the fact that all of us who could look up to admire the spectacle were prisoners.
I took a deep breath and trotted on, followed by the grinding, click-clacking skeletons.
After a few more turns of the winding path the valley finally came into sight, along with two small figures sitting by a campfire near the hut.
Cavalorn and Scorpio.
One of them just passed a bottle to the other; it made me smile.
"Halt, sirs," I ordered my trusty subjects. "I shall call on you should your services be in demand." With that I turned to jog down the rolling hill; I am not very tall, and since my robe was far too long, I had to lift the hem so as not to fall.

"Gentlemen," I greeted my friends at the fireplace while sending them a salutatory wave from afar, "I have returned!"
Both men turned their heads in my direction; the haggard hunter sent me a confused glance, then his eyes came to rest on a point somewhere above my right shoulder.
"By Innos," he gasped.
Scorpio's consternation was as obvious. He automatically reached for the two-handed weapon that had leaned against the wooden bench and now slid out of its sheath with a grinding noise.
To my great astonishment the noise was answered by the polyphonic shriek of a multitude of dead voices, and now I knew for certain that something had gone very wrong.
It was my mighty warriors' war cry.

"Halt, stop," I called, "sirs, I plead you," but it was too late already; the armies of darkness I had summoned rushed downhill to neutralize the alleged menace who bewilderedly awaited their charge, the sword raised like a bat.
"Demonspawn!"
Cavalorn shook his dark head once before he bolted; at once four of my warriors left formation to pursue the former shadow, whirling their weapons in pleasant anticipation.
"Enough of it, sirs!" I screamed, but none of the undead seemed to notice, so intent were they on removing the threat to my life, and then the first wave of my minions crashed into Scorpio. Luckily, the former guardsman's blade severed the sword arm of the foremost skeleton just in time to prevent the undead warrior's weapon from smashing down on his skull. The detached limb sailed through the nightly air to land straight before my feet with a clacking thud.
A sudden flash of anger shot through my body, bubbled up in my throat and broke free in an inarticulate scream of rage.
Drawing the crude-looking Krush Pach I had come to value so much during the last few days, I charged into the fray. Two mighty strikes, and a heap of splinters adorned the grassy ground at the spot where the last skeleton in line had stood just a moment ago.

"WHY DO YOU NOT OBEY?"

I heard metal hit metal, but the fidgeting tangle of bony limbs in front prevented me from seeing what exactly was going on. While I hacked repeatedly into the wriggling wall of bone, I saw Scorpio branch backward, turn and run.
A most rational decision… just as to stand and fight an enemy vastly superior in numbers (and stamina, as the un-living felt no pain) would have been nothing but foolish.
Chopping into the congregation of disobedient minions with a fury I had hardly ever experienced before, l finally managed to return one of my warriors to dust. The remaining five (six if you wish to include the one-armed skeleton), however, scampered after the instructor. I raised my axe, rushing the warrior whose back was closest to me-
"Garland! Help!!"

I spun around. Cavalorn cowered on the roof of the woodcutter's hut, a sword in one hand and a lighted torch in the other, and he was desperately trying to prevent two of his four pursuers from climbing up there as well.
A look over my shoulder showed that the other troupe of undead sped along the dusty path through the valley, in hot pursuit of Scorpio. For a brief moment I hesitated, but it was a very brief moment indeed.
Cavalorn was a hunter, not a fighter.
The orcish axe fell to the ground as I closed my eyes and concentrated on one of the runes. Instantly I felt the sweltering tingle of fire magic course through my flesh… a pleasing sensation indeed, yet not as delightful as the chilly surge of power which had accompanied the summonings.
The prickling culminated in my right hand, and when I opened my eyes again, flames sprang from my fingertips. The flames tightened into a ball which surrounded my hand up to the wrist; as always I felt the heat in my blood only, not on my skin.
"Hold on, Cavalorn, I shall help you!"

The fireball expanded a little, shrank and expanded again before I deemed it devastating enough to send it on its way to the intended target. Fire exploded out of my warrior's ribcage when the sizzling ball hit it in mid-climb; blazing tongues licked over the dry bones, setting flakes of desiccated skin and clothes alight until a flaming aura surrounded the whole creature. With an irritated shriek the undead warrior dropped back to the ground, the magical flames obviously hindering its sight when it brought down the withered axe on the skull of its cadaverous mate.
In mere seconds a dramatic battle between the skeletons was in progress, the blazing fighter setting the dry grass under its burning feet on fire - and not only that. Some of the hut's shingles started to smolder as well.
The ways of magic were powerful, but in this case they were definitely taking too long. Cursing, I picked up my Krush Pach; in an instant the tingling sensation stopped, my concentration broken, and the flames retreated into my fingertips.

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