Heretic

Saunder nearly gagged when he inhaled the rancid stench of the undead. The paladin managed to catch the zombie's attack on his shield and heard the abomination's jagged nails drag across the boss. Ignoring the malodor, Saunder swung his mace and crushed the zombie's shoulder then used his shield to bash the zombie's face. But the zombie was not knocked off balance, and raked it's nails across Saunder's chest, cutting through leather jerkin and tunic. Saunder suppressed a cry of pain and brought his mace down on top of the zombie's head, which spewed putrid blood as it flattened.

Past the collapsing zombie, Saunder saw that three more skeletons remained as well as the mad priest, Bassilus. Imoen's bow reduced the number of skeletons to two, both of them before Bassilus. Kivan brandished his spear and made for one of the skeletons as Saunder approached the other. The paladin parried the skeleton's first spear thrust and attempted to close the distance but the skeleton, much more nimble than the zombie had been, made a series of jabs that kept Saunder on the defensive.

At length Saunder deflected the spear with enough force to make the skeleton lose its balance for a moment and pressed the attack with a series of reckless swings. Now Saunder was too close for the skeleton to even attempt to defend itself; his first swing smashed the skeleton's right arm while the second shattered its rib cage and the third split its skull.

Saunder saw that Kivan had already dispatched his own adversary and was rushing toward Bassilus. The mad priest chanted in a low murmur and then released his spell. Kivan was at once frozen in position and Bassilus started toward the ranger, brandishing his hammer. Saunder rushed forward and swung his mace at Bassilus but the priest parried the mace on the shaft of his hammer and faced Saunder.

Bassilus was just as loathsome in appearance as the undead he had raised. His face was covered in scars and his skin pallid like that of a corpse. He even smelled little better than the undead.

Bassilus pushed Saunder's weapon away with his hammer and then swung his own weapon at Saunder's face. The paladin managed to step back before the hammer's spike perforated his skull and blocked Bassilus' next swing with his shield, but the priest's spike punch through. Saunder wrenched his shield arm down before Bassilus could withdraw his hammer.

At the same time Bassilus slammed his shield into Saunder's head. Although dizzy and disoriented, Saunder struck out blindly with his mace and felt it hit something. A few seconds later Saunder regained his balance and saw Bassilus lying on the ground, quite still. He looked to have spat out a good deal of blood but bore no visible wounds.

"He only stumbled back a few steps before he collapsed," Imoen said, "you must have hit him pretty hard."

"I must have," Saunder said between breaths.

Saunder looked and saw that Kivan was still frozen in place.

"How long do you think he'll be that way?" Imoen asked.

"It's just a hold spell," Saunder replied, "he'll be fine."

Saunder sat on the ground, still breathing heavily. The fall day seemed much warmer than it had moments ago. Sweat began to bead on the paladin's brow and his leather jerkin felt like a furnace. Saunder started to unlace the jerkin but gave up when he couldn't keep his fingers steady.

"Are you okay?" Imoen asked.

"What? No, I mean . . . I'm fine, just exhausted."

"Saunder, you're bleeding."

Imoen knelt in front of Saunder and pointed to the vertical slices in his leather jerkin.

"Oh, that. The zombie scratched me. Only a scratch."

"Let me see." Imoen snapped her head to face Kivan when he spoke then got out of his way so he could get to Saunder. The ranger unlaced Saunder's leather jerkin and examined the wound. Then felt Saunder's forehead. It was hot. "It isn't too bad now," the ranger said, "but it could have been serious." Kivan retrieved a small green vial from one of his belt pouches, uncapped it, then handed it to Saunder. "Drink," he said. Saunder took the vial in his trembling hands, took a sip, and nearly gagged. Imoen grabbed the vial before Saunder dropped it.

"Make sure he drinks it all," Kivan said to Imoen.

"What is it?" Imoen asked, putting the vial to Saunder's lips and holding his mouth open. "It's an antidote, it will slow the poison enough so that Saunder's own body can defeat it." Kivan took another brief look at Saunder's wounds, retrieved another potion and handed it to Imoen, "have him drink this when he's finished with the antidote." Kivan noticed Imoen's questioning look, "this one's a simple healing potion. Again, make sure he drinks all of it."

Kivan slung his spear across his back and picked up his longbow.

"Where are you going?" Imoen asked.

"I'm just keeping watch," the ranger responded, "Hobgoblins and bandits are known to frequent these woods. We can't be too careful."

There was an awkward silence after those words for a few minutes.

"You don't talk much do you?" Imoen asked.

"A keen observation," Kivan said after a moment.

"Why?"

"There is little I wish to discuss."

"You seem like you've seen a lot, traveled a lot. There must be something you can talk about."

Kivan was silent.

"Come on," Imoen pled, "where are you from? That's a good place to start."

"I have no desire to discuss the details of my past so please be silent. Someday you may learn its value."

"I doubt it," Imoen chuckled.

"Then you must learn its necessity. Your mouth has already gotten you and your friend into one ambush. You may use this moment to practice exercising restraint."

Imoen scowled at Kivan's back. The ranger was impassive. Then Imoen realized that the healing potion vial was empty and took it away from Saunder's lips.

"He's finished both of the potions," Imoen announced.

"Good," Kivan said, "he should be around in a few moments then."

Saunder came to slowly. At length, blurs of color resolved into the clearing he remembered having been in last and he saw Imoen sitting beside him. The paladin groaned and sat up wearily. His muscles felt sore and complained with every movement.

"How do you feel now?" asked Imoen.

"Just fine," Saunder grumbled. He tried to stand, then collapsed again.

"You'll feel stronger in a moment." Kivan said. Saunder saw the ranger standing a short distance across the clearing. He approached Saunder and tossed a medallion. Saunder caught the medallion and saw that it was a skull on top of a black sunburst, the sign of Cyric. "There is a bounty on Bassilus and that medallion is the proof you need in order to collect it. Take this too."

Kivan retrieved a war hammer from the folds of his cloak and handed it to Saunder. "Bassilus' hammer," Saunder observed. Examining it, Saunder realized that the war hammer was a finer weapon than he had previously thought. It's construction was all-metal and it's head inlaid with gold; spikes protruded from the back and top of the hammer.

Saunder groaned as he stood, and girt the war hammer leaving the mace where he had dropped it on the ground.

"The bounty is waiting at the Temple of Lathander, east of Beregost."

Saunder looked at the setting sun, "For now, let's just get back to Beregost," Saunder took another look at the medallion before stowing it in his satchel, "The bounty will still be there tomorrow."