|
She took a deep breath and braced herself for what was to come. She had to face this, and so she would.
But on my own terms, she thought to herself.
Those words echoed through Lady Emeralde's mind as she nudged her chestnut mare forward, cantering along the broken road. The air in this plagued land was putrid, the stench clung to her robes and weaved its way into her blazing red hair. Up ahead she could see what looked like -- could it be? -- re-animated skeletons lurching about menacingly. She double-checked the neatly-written notes in the worn journal she always carried. Sure enough, this was the place -- it appeared to have once been an orchard, now long. 
Hesitating, she looked about for another living soul whom she could befriend, however fleeting, for companionship in combating these foul beasts. Where was a white knight in shining armor when I actually needed one?, she wondered. The camp behind her had been deserted except for a few soldiers who were clearly not willing, or able, to re-enter this murk. This hardly surprised her. Ever since she'd left the safety of the mage academy, she'd journeyed alone. It seemed no one thought much of a young mage in mismatched robes with naught to recommend her but a hot temper and a talent for setting things ablaze.
Seeing no one about, Emeralde dismounted lightly and secured her mare to a nearby tree. In the distance she could see a dilapidated barn and an old farmhouse. Both structures were blocked by the wandering undead horrors who had overtaken this land. Concentrating her powers of the arcane, Emeralde took aim and hurled a fiery ball toward the nearest wandering skeleton. It staggered back, momentarily stunned, and she repeated her attack until the creature lay in a smoldering mass of bones in the dirt. Emeralde brushed off the faint sprinkling of soot from her thin gloves. She smiled in satisfaction and thought, I can do this. 
 True to her upbringing, Emeralde paused at the entrance to the farmhouse and knocked politely on the doorframe. The sound echoed through the farmhouse. No one answered her call. She stepped into the farmhouse and looked about. The house was a shambles and dust lay over everything like a heavy shroud. Odd little circles dotted the dust, reminding her of teardrops.
She turned to ascend the stairs when she caught a blurred shape out of the corner of her eye. Before she could turn to see, it collided with her, knocking her back against the risers. Shocked and more than a little angry, Emeralde mustered her resources and blasted the blighted zombie. 
The zombie's head, or what passed for it, caught on fire instantly ... and yet, horribly, it kept pursuing her. Emeralde felt a tremor of fear trickle up her spine and continued to blast it, stopping only when it lay in a pile of smoking flesh and bone on the dusty floor. Before she could draw another breath, she was brutally attacked again, only this time the zombie had brought a friend. Horrific hands clawed at her, ripping her thin garb. She attempted to transform one into a more benign creature temporarily, but the spell failed and wasted what little mana reserve she had. When she saw a wandering skeleton lurch her way, she knew she was in serious trouble. 
A moment later, a zombie hit Emeralde squarely on the back of her head, and all went dark. Â
|