Chapter One
Lina hurled her deadliest spell and watched as Leoric, the huge Skeleton King, crumbled into scattered bones and turned. That bolt of obliterating energy was the greatest of spells a sorceress like her could ever master. Laguna's Blade. Like the fabled sword itself, said to be impossibly sharp, the spell tore through defensive wards and bodies with equal ease.
This was the Valley, the ultimate stronghold for the civilized races, the unconquered bastion of order that has never, ever been stormed under by the forces of chaos and evil. Hundreds of years ago, guided by the Prophet Velmont, two hundred elven mages, the pride of the night elves sacrificed themselves in a massive spell to lock this one section of the world forever from evil. No matter how many kingdoms fell, this fortress would remain impregnable from fell armies.
Set in a niche nestled in impenetrable mountain ranges, only three valleys led to the giant tree of life. The fort itself was huge, a natural plateau with only three entrances, each facing a valley. Ancient Protectors, guardian trees that hurled rocks the size of horses with great force guarded the valleys. Just in case an army managed to destroy one of the guardians, a second awaited at a chokepoint near the fort itself, while more awaited within the fortress.
But the greatest and most powerful of secrets resided within the Tree of Life. Pulsing with life energies, the nexus of power that sustained the living defenses of the realm, that held the keys of rejuvenating even a wrecked world, that was the regenerative and restorative powers of the Tree. The Sentinels of the realm were living creatures. Animated treants patrolled the lands, spawned from trees whenever needed. Each group of treants was accompanied by a druid, a magically constructed creature with the spirit of a volunteer elf, all memory, consciousness and skills intact.
But crisis loomed. With his twisted might, the demigod Ner'zhul spawned a horrible reflection of the fortress. The energy drain nearly cost him his godhood. The champions of the realm, drawn from all walks of life, found themselves facing a relentless onslaught, including twisted analogies of even themselves. The entire fortress found itself facing a mirror twin, but a horribly mutated version. Ghouls and necromancers attacked in groups, a parody of the living guardians of the Tree.
There were no noncombatants. Any that did not belong to the dark scourge were summarily put to usefulness. Not as slaves, but either as food for the ghouls or as sacrifices to raise power for the necromancers. Their deaths were usually slow, agonizing affairs. Screaming was reported for days from nearby villages before activity in that area ceased. Scouting parties came upon horrors unlike anything ever seen before, entire families impaled upon stakes, dismembered bodies, blood splashed everywhere. Those were the lucky ones. Some unfortunate ones were still alive, throats too raw to scream. For them, an arrow in the heart was mercy, None could be saved. A few unlucky scouting parties fell prey and their deaths were long and torturous.
In this dark hour, another facet of the Tree manifested itself. Travex, the finest elven ranger in the lands had fallen victim to an ambush. The survivors of that ambush reported hearing her screams for a shockingly long time as she fell while covering their retreat. A few were on the verge of breakdown, for all knew and loved the ranger for her wisdom, skill and caring personality. Upon returning to the fort, a trio found her huddled, naked and trembling at the foot of the Tree. When she had recovered somewhat, they asked her what had happened.
Somehow, she had risen from her dismembered body (no, her death hadn't been quick) been drawn back into the Tree and resurrected. Her story had boosted the spirits of the Sentinels for some days, until reports of the enemy champions pulling off the same feat filtered through the ranks.
And here Lina was, a mighty sorceress in her own right. She strolled across the grass, away from the scattered remains of Leoric. It would be a while before he appeared on the battlefield again. First, the enemy would have to get him resurrected. By then, perhaps, the tide of the struggle would have turned.
But impossibly, she heard the crackle of bone behind her. Before she could turn, however, agony exploded into her back. Lina threw her head back and screamed, collapsing to her knees as Leoric's pitted blade tore into her back. She clutched the blood spurting wound with trembling fingers, the pain overwhelming rational thought. Had she been capable of thinking, she'd have known she was doomed.
The blade sheared through her neck with a wet crunch. Her head tumbled into the grass. Warm lifeblood spurted from her severed neck stump as her body stiffened for a moment, then toppled silently to the ground, still gushing a river of red. The morning sun briefly sparkled on the chain she wore, her quivering body ceased to move and all was still. Leoric turned away. Unlike him, she would not be walking the battlegrounds for quite some time. He would serve Ner'zhul, as always. His blade crackled with a red glow. A vile magic, tied to the corpse of its latest victim.
Before too long, a patrol alerted by Lina's scream arrived. The patrol commander, the druid, stumbled across the bloody decapitated corpse hidden in the knee-length grass. As he bent down to examine the object he had tripped over, Leoric, in the distance, triggered the trap spell.
Lina's corpse erupted in an explosion, killing the druid and sending a ten-feet spray of bloody gobbets splattering into the grass. The treants, animated trees that they were, flinched from the blast. Without their commanding druid, they proceeded along their patrol route.