A Bow for the Lady

Army has its uses. It's just hard to apply it properly. Imagine a village smith using a Thunderbolt Hammer of Lightening to fit a horseshoe… now avert your gaze from the remnants of the imaginary horse, and let's limp along.

I (or rather a younger, cockier version of me) is about to exit Forte Locke, remember?

Khelgar's just delivered a speech on the subject of milksops for breakfast. I recommended staying with the watered ale, but he just had to have something in his belly. Neeshka had milk. The stuff of legends, you understand.

I am a hopeful man, so on our way to the gates, I stopped to chat with one Lieutenant Vallis Anton and offered him a chance to cover himself with glory by joining our stroll through the forest. I could tell at once that Lieutenant was not at all fond of a tall and darkly handsome stranger intruding on a morning contemplation of his rather miserable domain. Some men have to rule over something, even if it is a midden heap.

"Lieutenant," I started cheerfully, "I am Lan Farlong. My company is setting out to clear the bandits' nest and free their captives. Will the brave guards of Forte Locke march with us?"

"Company?" Lieutenant made a show of counting us. "Oh, three's a company, alright." As he laughed at his joke, I made to move past him. He slapped his paw on my shoulder. "If you know what's good for you, son, you'd stay out of the woods. There are things out there now that kill men who can wipe the floors with you… and company."

I kept going, let his hand slide down my back. Gentler, than I would have preferred. Neeshka and Khalegar followed me in silence for once.

"Don't expect me to come to your rescue, fools! I am not Commander Tann." Anton did not know Neeshka they way I did, so he assumed he was getting the last word in.

"Nope, you're not," Neeshka whirled around quick as a fox, "I hear he was a brave man."

"Oh, sure. And he made a brave corpse," Vallis parried gleefully. "So did his men, I am certain. I chose to protect those I can. My men. These poor souls." His hand encircled the fort. At this moment he was exactly what he wanted to be. A Master of the Midden Heap. Not too big, of course, but warm and cozy enough.

And, as menial as he was, he was also an usurper.

"That's prudent, Sir," I nodded, "a pity you can't hold the Commander's position till your predecessor's death is established beyond any doubt."

"'Tis only a matter of time," Vallis tried to appear nonchalant, but I sensed his fear. Tann could be alive, they could promote someone brighter when the pressure is off, they –

I pressed on: "If you tell me where Commander Tann was heading with his last patrol, I might look for his martyred remains on my way."

"Commander Tann planned to investigate rumors about strange creatures at the graveyard. You have my authorization to search the crypts," Vallis' sneered at me, "but I suggest you refrain from grave robbery. Might be these corpses want to keep their trinkets."

I assured the brave Lieutenant that sacrilege does not appeal to me (I thought I heard Neeshka groan into her hood) and led my company through the gates at last.

"Follow me," Neeshka said briskly taking her bearings.

I dropped my palm on her shoulder and turned her towards the beaten path. "This way first, m'lady."

"Graveyard?" Khelgar chuckled. "Isn't it a tad premature?"

"Are you mad?!" Neeshka's pent-up frustration erupted like a small volcano. "Calling this Vallis a rat would be an insult to rats, and you want to help him?!"

My ears still ringing, I started walking towards the graveyard. I did motion for the twosome to follow.

Neeshka raced after me, yelping: "I mean, he's even had the gall to forbid the looting! That's sacrosanct!" And, in a heartbeat: "You'll see, we'll come back, he'll arrest us for sacrilege!"

"Not if we bring Tann back, demon-girl. He'll be fairer man, unless I miss my guess," Khelgar objected.

"I'm not asking you! I'm asking him! Hey, whatever did you do this for?!" She actually pulled my sleeve.

"I like talking to people," I answered simply and she froze with her mouth half-opened. I had her attention. SoI put my pack back on the ground, untied the staff, and unrolled the oiled rags. The noble wood glowed in sunlight a beautiful shade of silvery-gray.

"Here, a bow for the Lady. You will make a better use of it."

With it, I proffered a girl I've met mere hours ago, a demon-spawn girl, my heirloom bow and a dozen of arrows. Sometimes a man has to take his chances.

"Sheesh, thanks," Neeshka said both gruffly and quietly. I liked that she did not try to refuse the gift. There was a delight in her eyes. Obviously, this was a lady that didn't question gifts, but always questioned men who gave it. Better than the opposite, if you ask me.

"Well, come along, Khelgar. Graveyard awaits, and all that," She chivvied Khelgar who fingered his axe thoughtfully. Sharp weapons were little use against many undead. "You want to fight with your hands and feet, right? Gotta start somewhere." Khelgar's face didn't brighten up at the thought of clubbing rotten flesh with his fists.

We made our way quickly towards the Fort's Last last resting place. The gates were built by the same craftsman who erected the Fort itself. Or maybe his loyal pupil. Or maybe it was the style they favored in those parts… Never you mind.

Once we've stepped out of the dappled shadow of the trees, and through the gates into the peculiar landscape of graves, the morning sun was no more. An unnatural darkness thickened with every step we took.

"There better be lootin'," Neeshka muttered and stringed my… hers bow, "A lot of lootin'." Her words must have struck a cord, because a group of bones, whiter somehow in the pitch-black, stirred and stacked itself into a skeleton, two skeletons… four. An arrow sang… and flew through the rib cage harmlessly. Neeshka cursed, threw the bow down, and produced a small flail I have not noticed in her sack earlier. I saw Khelgar effortlessly crushing a bony wrist reaching for his beard in his wide palm, and then my focus shifted away from my companions.

I looked beyond the bones, groping for the shiver of the energy that made the skeletons advance towards us in an effort to kill, kill, kill… I caught it… and pulled, and twisted, and made a change. Khelgas' bony friend stopped smashing the dwarf, picked a stone, and pounded his former friend into dust. Then it stood in blank amazement, watching Neeshka kick a skull to the side with a practiced blow. Khelgar took the legs from under the last undead and smashed the rib cage for a good measure.

"Ouf", he said, "Are there more?"

"Probb'ly" said Neeshka kneeling and searching the ground. She came up with her arrow, and a couple of small coins. I can't say if the skeletons hide them in their hip joint or in the shreds that used to be the clothes their relatives had buried them in. Again, never you mind.

I wasn't yet fully back to the physical world, so my eyes saw the spiritual energy swirling in the dark. I pointed towards it: "There."

Neeshka squinted: "Whoa, good eyes, Father. It's a big one. But you know what they say, the bigger the prize, the bigger the trap… stay behind, lads. And, Khelgar? Breathe quieter, will ya?"

Neeshka crept forward and I lost her slight figure in the dark. Ages passed, and all I could hear were a few faint clicks. I started to imagine that I can feel the heat of her body. Then a soft reddish glow appeared a few feet away from the place where I thought her warmth was. Her eyes.

The door opened quietly, and we finally saw light. Not the cheery light of day, but the troubled, eerie glow of magical flames. By now it was better than the dark. We trooped in. A figure in black turned from the fire towards. It had a black scarf wrapped around its face, and no wonder. I almost chocked on the stench of death and worse.

"Excellent," he said in a clipped, practical tone, "new materials to work with." And his muffled chant filled the air.

The undead came from the halls, extending scary, jerky limbs towards us. Some were white and shiny; some blackened and dry, but most had indescribably ugly rotten flesh hanging off the bones. The advance was morbidly fascinating. It took almost all I've got to shake the stupor off and act. I admit that it did not look like much. I stood still, closed myself to the mayhem around me, even to my companions, and reached for the priest. He was my quarry.

Except he got me first with something that burned my side. I clenched my teeth and blinked tears away… and then I felt it. There was something odd about the power the blighter wielded. It broke through in powerful pulses, but there was a delay of sorts. I was a kitten compared to him when he peaked, but a cougar… well, at least a very large tom-cat when he ebbed. As he was struggling to pull the power back toward him, I prayed to hurt him. It was only a flesh wound, but the man didn't feel pain himself for a while, just inflicted it, so he howled. And while he howled, Khelgar lunged with an entirely undwarven agility and hacked a good chunk off his ear off. The axe stuck in the collar bone for a blink of time, but the priest was done for.

"All right, boys, you finish up here, and I will do some… cleaning," Neeshka said and walked gingerly towards a dim outline of large chests or boxes.

I was laboring on a particularly stubborn skeleton when Neeshka's cheery voice echoed off the walls: "But you must be Commander Tann! WAIT!"

A moment later a tall fellow emerged from the darkness, stripped down to his breeches, barefoot, incredibly dirty, bloody but waving a heavy piece of wood with some force. He even managed to put a blow in before it was all over.

"Commander Tann," he said, and proffered a wide palm to me. I grinned. Lieutenant Vallis' fortunes were about to take a turn to the worse. Commander Tann was a realistic man, who had no qualms about bending a law or two when need demanded.

That night, Neeshka, Khelgar and I camped in the deserted outlaw camp. We were alive and as well as my skill allowed, and the camp was not knee-deep in blood. On Tann's suggestion, we had sent the rag-tag band to join Fort Locke's garrison, side by side with their captives. Whatever the differences in views on personal property, the townsfolk and the bandits shared basic fear and hatred of the unnatural intruders. And that, my friends, is a powerful thing.

I was as sure as ever about my calling, after the pieces fit so neatly together. I wanted justice for Tann, and even though the magical fires did not erupt from the ground and lit my way, I still walked the path, and fought for it… and made it right.

My euphoria was almost complete. Almost.

You see, my personal demon probed the dead cleric with the toe of her boot and scowled. Then she kneeled, ran her hands over his body, searching for pockets and pouches and she kept looking and looking at me. Finally satisfied with the inspection, she tossed a couple of frayed scrolls my way.

"Your sort of stuff."

It was.

I pondered for a while if anything in the world at all could change her attitude. Having have failed to find a solution, I closed my eyes and sighed. Tomorrow we were setting out for Highcliff. Tomorrow will be another day.