Undeath Beckons
Chapter 7 – Hellfire and Brillstone
LOADING…
CHANGING REALM… ERROR… REALM UNKNOWN…
FETCHING CHARACTER DATA…
ERROR… CANNOT RETRIEVE CHARACTER INFORMATION…
ENTERING WORLD…
I heard something resembling a scream come out of my mouth—Gods, was that my voice?—but it was overshadowed by the orc's cacophonous bellowing as he barreled toward me, axe raised, globs of foamy spittle dripping from his lips. There was not even a moment to react: in seconds I'd feel the cold steel of that blade against my cheek. I winced. Just as the cleaver was about to sever my brain from its comfortable place in my skull, I saw a blur of color rush past me. The blow was countered, and the orc suddenly found himself on the defensive.
"Too pathetic to fight your own battles?" the demon—Felguard, some part of my brain explained—snarled, casting a fearsome glance over his shoulder. He drove into the orc with his battleaxe, drawing first blood. I finally managed to shake off my stupor and added a few spells to the mix. Between the Felguard's swings and my curses, we killed the orc in no time. The demon returned to my side grudgingly.
"Thank you," I told him. He huffed. "What is your name, demon?"
He stared at me. "By the Fel, you should know my name. Have you forgotten so quickly? Is your weak human brain incapable of holding information for more than minutes at a time?"
"Uh," I stammered. "Maybe?"
"My name is Skelzeras." He narrowed his eyes at me. "Do not forget again, human." I studied this creature carefully: easily three heads taller than me, with gray skin and tiny features on a miniscule face. His muscle mass was impressive, to say the least, and over all but his chest and left shoulder hung tarnished bronze armor, dinged and scuffed from excessive use. His battleaxe, wielded in his left hand, had a smiling skull engraved in its surface.
"Where are we?" I questioned, a bit more hesitantly.
Skelzeras rolled his eyes. "What is the matter with you? This is Hellfire Peninsula. And that," he pointed at a previously unnoticed stone fortress looming ominously over the landscape, "is Hellfire Citadel, our destination. We're invading the fortress of the fel orcs. Now, if you're done asking stupid questions, can we get back to the fray?"
"Y-yes," I peeped. He immediately rushed off to the nearest orc and began wailing on him. What exactly was going on here? Skelzeras said we were assaulting Hellfire Citadel, but who were we? Was I a part of some greater fighting force, and if so, which? I looked down at my clothes for the first time. Bright purple and blue robes, overlaid with a sky-blue tabard adorned with a fierce lion head. A black staff at my back, tapered outward at both ends. The upper section had a set of diamond-shaped crystals orbiting its point. Battle-worn fingerless gloves, cloth boots, a skinny belt, and comfortable bracers. I also noticed I was wearing a necklace and two gemmed rings, and a couple of small trinkets dangled from straps at my waist. I didn't need a sorcerer to tell me these items were all magical in some way; I could feel my natural abilities being amplified.
As part of whatever group was assaulting Hellfire Citadel, it was clear now that I had a mission to fulfill. Yet I held back, reluctant to get anywhere near the bloodthirsty column of fel orcs I could see locked in combat before the fortress. I'd only been alive again for a few minutes; I didn't want to waste this second chance. Fear of experiencing another death kept me rooted to the spot.
"Hang on, Silina," I chided at myself. "This is clearly just a dream, or a vivid memory, or something. You're Blightfire now. You're dead and you're sitting in your room in Deathknell. This isn't really happening." It was true, I realized. How could I be alive once more? How could I suddenly be in a whole different world, in the middle of a war, wearing clothes I didn't own and commanding a demon I'd never seen? Feeling encouraged by this attitude, I rushed into the battle and came to the aid of some other humans in tabards like my own. They thanked me for my help and returned to combat.
Moments before I toasted yet another fel orc, I was interrupted by someone calling my name. A tall, long-eared, blue-skinned woman approached me with a look of urgency on her beautiful face. She was clad in white robes, a tabard, and some other minor pieces of armor. A luminescent mace hung from a clasp on her hip. Night elf. That was the name my mind gave me for this being.
"Private Silina," she barked. "Report."
I saluted, somehow knowing that this woman was my superior. "Ma'am. What do you wish to know?"
"Where is Corporal Bronzehollow?"
I assumed she was referring to the dwarf—the name felt Dwarven to me. "He… he was killed." I pointed vaguely in the direction I'd come from.
"I see." She turned and shouted at a nearby human man, who was engaged in vicious combat with a fel orc, "Private Jacint!"
"Yes, Sergeant Nightwind!" he replied cavalierly, as though he weren't moments away from being sliced in two.
"You're receiving a field promotion. You shall now be known as Corporal Jacint." Sergeant Nightwind threw him a salute, which he somehow returned in the midst of parrying a horizontal slash.
"Thank you Commander!" Jacint called back. He turned and slew the orc with a shout. Looking our way again, he shot us both a wide smile.
"Grats!" I added, not knowing quite what else to say.
Sergeant Nightwind turned her attention back to me. "You want a field promotion too, warlock? I've got a job for you. Come with me."
This was not a request. I followed quickly, signaling Skelzeras, who trailed behind me with a look of disgust in his beady eyes. Nightwind led me through the combat, stopping occasionally to cast a healing spell on a wounded soldier here or there—so she was a priestess, then. We soon reached a cliff overlooking the Citadel It was then that I noticed a small jury-rigged walkway leading to the fortress's ramparts. She paused here and spun to face me.
"Orders, Sergeant?" I said smartly.
"A number of Alliance troops are already on the ramparts ahead," Nightwind explained, "and are engaged in battle with the fel orc army. I want you to rendezvous with the forward assault team, headed up by Sergeant Acteon. Do whatever must be done to ensure that we take control of those ramparts." She saluted me. "Dismissed!"
I clumsily saluted back and hustled to the pathway. There was little opposition as I headed in the direction she'd pointed; everywhere I walked I found myself stepping over slain orcs or mutilated Alliance corpses. In moments I was in view of the main ramparts, and sure enough, there were dozens of small skirmishes going on as far as my eyes could see. Skelzeras grumbled at my side as I stood and gaped in awe.
The stone ramparts, hewn from a dark mineral that I could not name, were vast indeed. The path before me extended across a rough wooden bridge, upon which clashed orcs and humans in bloody combat. Beyond that the wall curved, and I could see a huge swarm of Alliance soldiers taking on a very large, very menacing orc force. A heavily armored commander—by the Gods, he had a giant blade in place of one of his hands!—was leading the screaming orcs into battle. I studied where I was standing carefully, wondering if that was the forward assault team I was supposed to locate.
The fortress extended quite a distance upward to my immediate right. Just slightly above me was another walkway, and this one had a large chunk of stone missing from its side, allowing upward passage with the proper tools. Speaking of which, I spotted a rope dangling from above. As I studied this interesting situation, a human head poked out over the edge.
"Silina!" the woman called, her trim blonde hair covering her light-skinned face as she peered down at me. "Up here! C'mon!"
I assumed this was Acteon, and made my way to the rope. Climbing it was surprisingly easy; my human body was impressively strong, considering its size. I felt my flesh grow warm and sweaty as I pulled myself upward hand over hand. Ahh. It was really wonderful to experience heat again. After a few minutes of exertion, I'd reached the top of the line. The woman helped pull me up over the last little bit. Before I could say anything, she threw her arms around me and hugged me tightly.
"I'm so glad you're okay! I lost track of you back there!" she murmured into my ear as she held her face against my shoulder.
"Uh… yeah, me too," I replied cautiously, patting her back with my hands. This was really weird. Who was this girl? Why was she touching me? Yet even as I wondered these things, I couldn't help but feel a certain sense of… comfort.
She released me from the hug and slid a large steel helmet onto her head, concealing all but her piercing blue eyes. "Let's go!" she exclaimed, beckoning me down the rampart. "The others are holding position up ahead. I was on my way to meet them, but I spotted you so I waited." She led me a number of paces forward; soon we encountered a gang of other Alliance soldiers huddled behind a pile of debris. I stole a quick look around the side: we were hiding from a broad, circular platform that overlooked a large section of Hellfire Peninsula and the other parts of the Citadel. There didn't appear to be any opposition in the area.
"Private Silina," a strange male humanoid addressed me. His skin was brilliant blue. Two horns erupted from his head, and he had a number of tentacle-like appendages dangling from his chin. He was stocky and clad in heavy mail, and I spotted an ornate crossbow in his arms and two hand-axes at his sides. He was kneeling beside a large, orange, three-legged beast with more spikes and teeth than actual body.
"Sir?" I answered, wondering what this creature—Draenei, the voice said—was, and whether I should obey his orders.
He gave me a salute, which I returned. "Sergeant Aceton. We met briefly before passing through the Dark Portal?"
I nodded as if I remembered. "Uh huh."
"Anyway, glad to have you here to help. Meet the assault team." He began gesturing to each person in turn: "Corporal Lariia Starseeker, priestess of Elune." A pale night elf in blue robes and a hood bowed before me, chanting a brief prayer as she did so; "Private Pegy Springblade." A diminutive, adorable girl—gnome—waved at me as she sat sharpening a pair of daggers on a whetstone; "Myself, and of course you know our warrior." The blonde woman patted me on the shoulder.
"With all due respect sir, can we get going?" Pegy said in a high voice. She brushed a bit of her short, white hair out of her face, and sheathed the daggers. "We've been waitin' here almost ten minutes."
"Yes Pegy, now that we have a fifth member for our party, I think we're ready to take on the challenge ahead." Acteon let out a shrill whistle, causing his pet to stand at attention. "Forward assault team, move out on my mark."
I felt my heart begin to thump in my chest. What was in store for us? What sort of foe were we about to face? And how had I gotten myself wrapped up in this ridiculous scenario? I readied myself for battle, reviewing spells in my mind as I waited behind Acteon. Skelzeras shifted eagerly from one foot to another. At least someone was excited about getting into a fight.
Acteon leaned out from behind the rubble and surveyed the platform ahead. He flicked two fingers forward. "Go."
With that one syllable, the five of us burst into action: Pegy sprinted around the corner and disappeared from view; the blonde woman equipped a sword and shield as she clunked toward the platform; Lariia moved up next, casting a protective spells around herself; I followed behind with Acteon at my side. Now I saw what we were here to assault: overhead, a massive, winged beast let out a screech. I caught sight of an armored fel orc on the dragon's back.
"You have faced many challenges," he bellowed in a thick, fearsome tenor, "pity they were all in vain!" The dragon began to descend. "Soon your people will kneel to my lord!" The orc leapt from his mount and landed with a tremendous crash. He rose to his full height—easily towering over all but Acteon—and let out a terrifying battle cry.
"Assault team! On the orc Vazruden!" Acteon bellowed. His pet charged into battle, as did the blonde warrior. She deflected a blow from Vazruden's sword with her shield and counterattacked. I moved in closer. Skelzeras now joined the melee, his axe clanging off the orc's durable armor. Even with a crowd of attackers, it appeared Vazruden was hardly breaking a sweat fending them off.
The fighting intensified twofold as Acteon starting firing crossbow bolts, and Pegy appeared from the shadows to thrust her daggers into Vazruden's backside. I was momentarily distracted by her combat finesse: despite being such a tiny creature, she'd already managed to scale Vazruden's back, and was now chipping away at the armor on his shoulders. He swatted at her, but she smoothly back flipped off him and redoubled her efforts. I threw a Curse of Agony and Corruption into the mix, hoping beyond hope that I wouldn't hit any of my many varied companions in the process. My Shadow Bolts flew true as well, striking Vazruden in his torso as he attempted to cleave the warrior in two.
"You are nothing! I answer to a higher call!" Vazruden thundered.
He swung hard. The blonde took a major hit in her arm and staggered back a moment, but kept fighting. Then before my eyes, the wound stitched itself together; I caught a glimpse of Lariia sending white light from her hands to the injured spot. That was a nice trick.
"Your time is running out!" Vazruden called. He spun in a whirlwind, sending Pegy, Skelzeras, and Acteon's pet flying. Lariia began healing them as they landed. Vazruden, meanwhile, shouted, "Nazan!"
The armored drake dove from the sky into the fray. His body was black, and his wings purple. The whole creature seemed to phase in and out of existence from second to second. I knew not what sort of beast this was, but classifying the fauna of the ramparts was exceedingly low on my priority list, so I let it slide in favor of casting Immolate. Nazan swung his tail, knocking back Pegy, the pet, and Skelzeras. He opened his mouth to release a column of flame, which the blonde woman absorbed with her shield.
With the warrior distracted, Vazruden charged at Acteon. The draenei suddenly crumpled to the ground as though dead, yards before the orc actually made contact. What the hell was he… wait, it worked? Sure enough, Vazruden changed his focus.
"Your days are done!" he taunted, rushing at Lariia. She let out a scream and backpedaled. I saw blood spray from small wounds as he swung his blades in her face. I heard her cry out in desperate prayer, healing most of her wounds, but still Vazruden came, and in moments she was bloody once more.
"Help me!" she cried in a panic. I'd been keeping up a steady stream of curses and shadow bolts. There was nothing more I could do. But then from nowhere, the warrior intercepted Vazruden, and countered his blow with a shield block. He focused on her with a raging roar, putting dent after dent into her large metal shield. So absorbed was she in fending off his blows that she failed to spot the dragon behind her, preparing to lunge.
"Look out!" I hollered. The warrior took a blow from behind; the impact knocked her helmet off. She let out a very intimidating shout, causing Vazruden to flinch long enough for her to slip around him. Now his back was to the dragon, and her back was to me.
I sent bolt after bolt zipping past her. The others were occupied with various tasks: Lariia was still recovering from a few hits she'd taken while under attack from Vazruden, Pegy was stabbing the living hell out of the dragon's scaly neck, the pet and demon were cutting into Vazruden, and Acteon was firing a barrage of bolts into Nazan's side and wings. Although we'd had to struggle with a rocky transition, we were winning the fight!
Our assumed victory didn't last long. The blood pulsing through my ears grew dramatically in volume as I saw my companions—one by one, like ivory dominoes—begin to falter and fall before our adversary. It started with Pegy: the drake managed to shake her off and maul her with his claws, sending her flying. She lay still on the cold stone some distance away. Next, Acteon's crossbow jammed, forcing him to leave off his assault to fix it. Lariia was barely keeping the warrior alive. The dragon quickly turned his attention to Skelzeras. With a fast bite, he'd mortally wounded the demon. Acteon's pet went a similar route.
Time slowed. I could hear my heart beating like war drums. A cold sweat had broken out over my whole body, and I stopped casting, dumbfounded, unable to see anything but those bloodstained teeth as Nazan ripped Lariia to pieces and turned on the blonde warrior. She was holding her own amazingly well, even against two foes at once, but I knew she couldn't keep up that pace for-
Wait.
What was that? On her neck?
It… it couldn't be.
My eyes widened. All other thoughts and emotions faded from my mind as stared at the black symbol on the back of the girl's head, just below her hairline. Three skulls bound by chains.
Dystressi? But she was-
-screaming in my ear, "Blightfire! Wake up! Wake up!" Mitexi shook my shoulder violently. Her skin glowed ghostly pale in the moonlight.
"What? Huh?" I stammered, disoriented. My voice was scratchier than usual, and I could feel icy moisture against my cheeks. Where was I? I looked around: Deathknell. Center of town. The Chapel was to my left, the Inn to my right. I was kneeling on the frigid soil in my underwear, with tears streaming down my face and a very worried-looking Mitexi standing beside me.
"Blightfire! You're awake!" she cried, helping me to my unsteady feet. "Gods, you had me really scared!"
"I did?" I asked, confused by everything that was happening. "What was I doing?"
"You don't remember?" she retorted in surprise. "You were crying, really loud. I heard you and came out here to find you kneeling on the ground, muttering something about the cold."
"The cold?"
"Yeah, like, 'It's so cold, so cold, I'm so cold.' Like that."
I pondered this. "How long have I been out here?"
"I don't know," she told me as we began walking to the Inn. "Could've been a long time. I only awoke a minute or so ago." She looked me up and down, paying special attention to my knee bones. "Seems like you've been on the ground for a while," she added. "See how dirty you got?"
No kidding. I was filthy. When we reached my bedroom, I did my best to wipe away the soil. "Mitexi," I mumbled as I dressed. "Can… can I stay with you tonight?" I discovered I was shivering, despite always being cold. I felt confused and afraid.
"Sure," she answered kindly. "We can share my bed." This was a relief. I was more shaken than a boat in a thunderstorm, and had no desire to be alone that night. Mitexi led me back to her place, and we crashed on her soft queen-size mattress. I fell into a dreamless sleep mere moments after lying down.
The sunlight awoke me far too few hours later; I rolled over and tried to pretend I wasn't awake, but it didn't work. Grunting, I discovered my bedmate was already up and about. She had a tasty—well, as tasty as things could be that weren't human flesh—meal of sweet rolls, fungus, and ice cold milk prepared. After breakfast we tidied ourselves up and went to meet Maximillion. I wanted to get his opinion on what'd happened, so when the opportunity arose, I told the story to our mentor.
"Interesting," he said after I finished my recounting. "But I wouldn't make much of it. Sounds like a simple case of sleepwalking. You're lucky you didn't curse anyone while you were wandering around."
I nodded. "That's good." Sleepwalking… but it was so vivid. So real.
Maximillion sent Mitexi to warm up her spells, and pulled me aside to tell me, "Blightfire, you look terrible. Well, moreso than usual." I chose to take this remark as a joke. "I want you to have a day off to rest. Not only do you need it, but to be honest with you, I think your skills have surpassed even my own. You're ready to move out of the valley and seek your fortune elsewhere."
I was a bit startled by this news. "Master, are you certain?"
"Yes," he said emphatically. "You are ready."
I didn't feel ready. But I could see his point: I was doing in days what Mitexi hadn't been able to accomplish in weeks. I cast a sidelong glance at her black locks as she fired shadow bolt after shadow bolt, her concentration unshakeable—the prospect of leaving her behind and heading off on my own seemed entirely unappealing. This desire for companionship gave me an idea.
"Master," I began.
"You may call me Max now. We are equals."
"Max," I corrected. "How close is Mitexi to completing her training? When will she be ready to leave?"
He let out a deep breath. "I cannot say for certain, but she has made considerable progress since you arrived. I think perhaps she looks up to you."
My cold heart grew slightly warmer. "Yeah?"
"Mmhm. She may be prepared sooner than I expected, in fact."
This was excellent news. "Thanks Max. I'll check in later, okay?" He nodded, and I returned to the Inn to catch up on sleep. I hadn't felt this tired since… well, since I'd come back to life. Venya greeted me as I entered and offered a bowl of her famous stew, but I politely declined. My bed was more inviting than ever, and I curled up in it, eyes barely open.
Perhaps needless to say, I slept like the dead. I awoke in the middle of the afternoon and got lunch from downstairs. Then, having nothing else to do, I decided to try on my new duds. The robes were magnificent: deep, inky black, with sparkling silver thread around the hem and through the center, forming an ornate pattern. My staff was less impressive to look at—a solid gray pole with pink crystals at either end—but its shadow wrath enchantment was sure to be of use the next time I cast a shadow spell. My fancy boots were very attractive. Dyed a cool blue, they felt marvelous on my weathered toes, thanks to their rabbit fur lining. Moccasins of the White Hare, Saltain had told me. The magic bracers I'd swiped from Meven's tent finished off the ensemble. Damn, I was lookin' good.
I killed time in the Inn and, later that evening, with Mitexi at her place. I talked at length about how to summon an imp and what the process felt like. The girl listened with rapt interest; I could tell she was a bit jealous, but on the whole seemed eager to learn from me, and I was happy to provide her with whatever I could. I felt well enough to sleep in my room at Death's Rest that night. No dreams.
The next day, Mitexi was already standing with Max when I arrived. She hopped from foot to foot. "I've been working really hard," she was pleading. "I'm ready!"
Max turned to me and asked, "Blightfire! Glad you're here. What do you think? Is Mitexi ready to attempt the summoning ritual?" His tone was friendly.
Judging from what I'd heard last night, and what I'd seen her do, I knew she could handle it. "It's time." Mitexi let out a whoop of excitement and raced off to the shaded glade, with Max and I on her heels. She drew the complex summoning circle in the dirt from memory—no easy feat—and stood in the center at attention.
"As before, I will be nearby to assist you," Max informed the eager warlock. He held out a hand. "Whenever you're ready."
I watched wordlessly as Mitexi shut her eyes and began to concentrate. She made a number of twisted and admittedly humorous faces as her connection to the Fel widened. I could see her hands clench into fists, and I knew she was struggling. But her tenacity paid off. After a minute or so, her imp materialized on the ground before her.
"Demon," she bellowed in a menacing voice, "you are under my command!"
The imp cowered slightly at this announcement. "As you wish, mistress," he squeaked timidly.
"Your name?" she demanded. "Speak up, imp."
"Daguri."
"Very good." She flicked her hands, and the imp was dismissed. "Eee!" Before I knew it I was wrapped in her clammy, partially rotted arms. "Blightfire! Thank you! I can't believe I finally did it!" She released me and bowed low before Maximillion. "Master, I am indebted to you."
Max waved away her humility. "Mitexi, you have worked very hard to reach this point. I have watched you change from a scared young caster into a full-fledged warlock with an imp at her command. The honor is mine." He saluted her firmly, and she returned the gesture.
"Great job, Texi," I said happily. This was a big day for her, and I felt pleased that I'd been a part of it. Of course, her powers paled in comparison to mine… but what did that matter? She was doing her best.
"It is well," Maximillion spoke up, "that you have reached this point today, Mitexi. It means you no longer have need of my expertise; you are ready to find another, more powerful trainer to assist you. It also means Blightfire will not be alone on her next adventure."
We both turned and stared at him. "Pardon?" I said.
He extracted an envelope from his robes. "This missive came to me today via courier from Brill. They are requesting immediate assistance from all able-bodied Forsaken here in the valley. Apparently Brill is under siege from some sort of phantom, and they've asked all the trainers in town to send anyone who is ready." He handed me the paper. "Both of you are strong enough. As your former master, I have but one more favor to ask: go quickly and save Brill from whatever evil has befallen it. If Brill falls, the Forsaken will lose even more ground in Tirisfal. That must not be allowed to happen."
Mitexi and I stood there a moment, stunned. Maximillion's expression was grave. Finally, I spoke up: "As you wish, master." She and I performed the Forsaken salute one last time, as did Max, and we parted ways from there, leaving him standing alone in the forest.
"Omigod Blight, I can't believe it! We're going out on our own!" Mitexi said as we reached Deathknell, her excitement almost palpable.
"Yeah. Thrilling," I responded, still lost in thought. What was happening to Brill? For that matter, where was Brill? Would we be able to handle the dangers ahead? I could find no refuge from my worries as Mitexi packed her few possessions into her travel bag and returned her house keys to Venya. I had no other objects to collect, so I checked out of my room. Venya thanked us both for our patronage with a warm smile.
We stood on the threshold of Death's Rest. "Ready?" my new partner asked eagerly.
"As I'll ever be," I responded blandly. We marched out of Deathknell, across the valley's sweeping hills, through the fog, and right up to the final gates before Tirisfal. A Deathguard was standing there, keeping watch. He halted us as we approached.
"Papers, please," the man barked.
I looked at him curiously. "Papers?"
"I can't let anyone out who hasn't had clearance from a trainer," he informed me. "Deathknell protocol. Don't want you getting killed out there."
"Right." I passed him the missive. After a moment, he handed it back, along with two copies of a map of Tirisfal Glades.
"Best of luck." The wide wooden gates opened just enough to permit us though. No sooner had we stepped out onto the narrow dirt road than they closed behind us with a loud thunk. We were in the open. Tirisfal Glades stretched before us like a rolling sea of dingy green.
The area was dark and hazy, just like the valley we'd come from. Before us winded a thin brown path, flanked by towering pines and low brush. To the west I could see farmlands, right beyond the trees, and to the north, a windmill very far in the distance. East was our direction of choice, according to the map, and so we went, marching quickly to a junction and turning at a sign labeled "Brill". Mitexi was uncharacteristically quiet. A quick glance revealed the reason: she was terrified.
"It's okay," I said gently, hoping to ease her fear. In truth, I was pretty nervous myself. "We're doing fine."
"Y-yeah," she replied. "No problem."
We encountered no opposition of any kind during the first leg of our journey. The path weaved in and out of the trees, and yards off we spotted a few small canine creatures with glowing red eyes. I could sense these demons from afar, I found. But they didn't attack us, and we made sure not to provoke them. A few mindless Scourge came after us near some abandoned farmhouses; we fended them off with ease and pressed on. By midday we'd reached a massive graveyard, which—according to the aged maps we'd been given—was right on the outskirts of Brill.
I let Mitexi know this. "The town should be around the next corner."
"Do you smell something burning?" Mitexi asked as we walked the final bend before Brill. "It's strong."
"Yes," I answered with growing dread in my throat, "look!" I pointed ahead. The town of Brill—much larger and more densely populated than Deathknell—was aflame from top to bottom. Every building I could see had some kind of fire licking its rafters. Dozens of Forsaken in all manner of garb were rushing back and forth from a gigantic tub of water in the town square, carrying buckets to douse the flames. The air rang with screams, cries for help, orders shouted by the city leadership, and the ever-present crackle of fire eating wood.
"Let's go help!" Mitexi hollered, dashing for the water. I followed suit. We found buckets and began putting out the blaze as best we could. I would fill a bucket and pass it off to Mitexi, who'd dash to the nearby buildings and hurl the liquid on them. Soon others began handing me empty buckets to fill, and a chain formed. The air was thick with black smoke.
We were making great progress, but even so it took almost half an hour to extinguish all the flames; at last the final hiss of dying fire filled the air. Instead of celebrating, however, most of the Forsaken hurtled into the nearby buildings and shut the doors.
"He's coming!" a female Forsaken in singed robes cried. "He'll be upon us any moment!"
"Save yourselves!" a man added as he disappeared into a small house.
Before we could blink twice, the square was completely deserted. Only a handful of armored Deathguards remained outside, along with two rather bewildered warlocks and the smell of burnt woodwork.
Mitexi shot me a worried look. "Blight, what's happen-"
As if on cue, a deafening, elongated cackle pierced the cold air. We both looked up just in time to see a powerfully built man descend from the sky on a black horse with hooves of emerald fire. He was wielding a luminous greatsword, and the eyes beneath his spiked helmet glowed brilliant green. The ghoul landed on the road before us, and pointed the sword in our direction. Though we'd said nothing to indicate we wanted to lead, the Deathguards took up positions behind us, as if waiting for orders. Our assailant, meanwhile, reached up and—much to my surprise—removed his head. He held it in his free hand with disinterest, as though it were a piece of trash he'd just collected off the ground.
The head began to speak. "My flames have died, left not a spark," it thundered, the voice rattling my bones, "I shall send you myself to the lifeless dark!" The Headless Horseman cackled madly once more, and charged toward us.
"We're gonna die!" Mitexi screamed. She cowered in fear at my side.
"No we're not!" I shouted in reply, readying a Curse of Agony. I hadn't come this far to be cut down by some brainless boogeyman. If he wanted a fight, then by the Gods, he'd have one.