Book of The Dead

Katlyn pulled her cloak tight around her and drew deep, steadying breaths. One finger kept the tension on her bowstring taught as her eyes flicked from tree to tree, watching for any sign of pursuit.

Stay calm. Be steady. That’s how you stay alive.

The words of her mentors from the academy rang in her mind and she heeded that advice. Analyse the situation, make a plan, then execute on it. That’s how a Ranger was meant to fight.

She’d lost her cool back at the graveyard, and it had cost her. The sight of so many undead swarming through the graves and patrolling the perimeter had shocked her. So many! She’d counted close to forty of them, and doubtless there were more watching the other side of the cemetery.

This Necromancer was supposed to have Awakened at the same time she had! How could he possibly be able to sustain so many undead? A chill had run up her spine as she’d considered what level he must have been.

How many people did he murder to advance that quickly? How large a trail of destruction had this monster left in his wake?

She’d hesitated in that moment, a shiver of fear running down her spine. She’d wondered if she should back off, return to the others and negotiate to share the prize, but had decided not too. All she needed was one arrow to find the mark and the money would be hers alone.

But she’d rushed.

A better opportunity would have presented itself if she’d been patient! Pushed by her fear, she’d attacked too soon and failed.

Her heart had finally slowed to its resting rate and Kat breathed deep one more time, filling her lungs with chill night air. It was cold and damp this high up. She hated it. Born to the south in Endless Sand Keep, she’d grown up a few hours' ride from the desert.

A sound tugged at her ear, something like a breath or sigh, and she snapped around, her bow rising to eye level in one, instantaneous motion.

Nothing.

It was difficult to see, even with her Heightened Senses Feat, but there was nothing there. She lowered her bow and continued to peer into the darkness. She was sure she’d heard something, an odd sound, almost like wind.

Had it always been this cold?

A freezing cloud of ice gripped her arms and the Ranger threw herself backward, rolling smoothly to her feet and loosing an arrow where she had been standing. The shot whistled through the air, touching nothing.

No, there was something!

The night air twisted in her perception and she could finally make out the shape. Lines blurred, almost immaterial as they seemed to drift as though caught in a soft current. A baleful glare met her eyes as what she now realised was a spectre reached for her again.

“Shit!” she cried, her voice gripped with fear.

Without thinking, she pulled back on her bowstring again, her free hand flashing an arrow to the nock with inhuman speed. She let fly, only to see the ghost distort slightly as the wood and metal blasted harmlessly through it.

She turned and ran.

Heart hammering in her chest, Katlyn stumbled through the brush, her thoughts a tangled mess.

Fucking hell. A ghost. What am I supposed to do against a ghost?

In her panic, all the usual grace and dexterity she would exhibit moving through difficult terrain was gone, replaced by blind fumbling as she tried to desperately get away. After clawing her way over a mass of gnarled roots that clung to the rock beneath like the withered fingers of a witch, she dared to look back.

Immediately, she wished she hadn’t.

Purple lights flickered in the dark, paired orbs that shifted and bobbed as the skeletons moved through the copse of trees. The sight of them filled her with dread. She wasn’t even necessarily afraid of fighting them, skeletons weren’t the deadliest of foes, but she was afraid of what they represented. Each had been a person, not that long ago. If they caught her, she would become one of them too….

“Fuck off!” she screamed, drawing another arrow and firing it at the first set of purple eyes she could see.

By some miracle, the arrow flew true, perhaps guided by the hand of the Unseen. There was a shattering sound in the distance and two of the lights winked out. Just like that, a skeleton had been destroyed.

It was strange, but the Ranger felt some measure of her calm return. A single success, miniscule it might be, but it gave her something to cling to. She may not be able to do anything to the ghosts, but they were slow, or they’d have caught her already. As long as she got a hold of herself and moved properly, they’d never catch up. The skeletons were easy fodder if she played her cards right. All she had to do was take some distance and pick them off one by one.

The Necromancer was practically feeding her free experience.

Get a grip. You’re not dying here.

Katlyn admonished herself and forced deep, slow breaths into her lungs, slowing her pounding heart and steadying her shaking hands. She could do this. She had to do this.

All at once, she was in control again, her movements became smooth and her feet found stable footholds once more. As a Ranger should, she began to move through the brush with grace and speed. Another arrow was plucked from her dull grey quiver and brought to the nock. She sighted and loosed in one smoother motion, not bothering to see if her shot found its mark.

The crunching sound of the steel head punching through a skull was all the confirmation she needed.

As long as he doesn’t get ahead of me, there’s no way I can be caught. That bounty is as good as mine.

Cold. Piercing, deadening cold invaded her lungs, freezing the air in her body and the blood in her veins.

Shit!

She lunged forward, desperate to avoid the horrific sensation. In her haste, she smacked her elbow into a rock as she rolled, pain beginning to throb up her arm. It was a miracle she managed to hold onto her bow.

Fighting back against an enemy with no physical form was pointless, all she could do was turn and run. Her only defence against the ghosts was to outrun them. She bounded away, legs pumping as she upped her speed. After fifty strides, she burst out of the trees and into the long grass that clung to the foothills with a deathgrip.

Out here, she could see the skeletons coming from kilometres away, even in the dark.

Need to find a good vantage point, make sure I’m not followed.

As long as those ghosts knew where she was, it would be impossible to sleep. The thought of being attacked with that freezing touch in her sleep was horrifying. She had to gain some distance.

Around her, five skeletons rose up from the grass, the light of undeath burning in their eyes.

No, no, nononono.

A flash of memory sparked deep in her brain, her instructor smacking an open palm across the back of her head.

“Think fast, move faster. If you get caught in a melee, you need to get out of it. Fast. Use your speed.”

The training paid off. She dropped her bow and snatched the machete from her belt, running straight at the closest Undead with the hilt clenched in both hands.

A wild yell burst from her lips as she slashed with all the strength she could muster. So long as she didn’t get surrounded, she would escape. Losing the bow hurt, and meant she had to give up on the bounty, at least until she got another one, but escaping alive came first.

The skeleton moved fluidly, bringing its rusted blade up in a neat block. With the full weight of her body behind it, the blade of the machete crashed through despite the clean defence, sweeping the skeleton off its feet.

Katlyn grit her teeth and rushed into the gap, not bothering to look behind her. The skeleton swung at her legs as she ran past, but didn’t have the leverage to put real force behind it and the slash didn’t penetrate her boots. She was through!

Ice pierced her once more and she gasped. Almost invisible in the dim light, she could see the faint outline of a face locked in a malicious grin as it reached for her.

How many are there? She despaired.

Acting on instinct, she slashed at the arm and watched as the machete cut through without resistance. The chill that threatened to lock her muscles in place diminished slightly as the ghost fuzzed into mist where she had struck, only to start reforming a moment later. It was a window, and she chose to jump through it.

She swung the machete high with one hand and then brought down in a savage slash, bisecting the ghost and cutting that rictus grin in half. Then she braced herself, and jumped straight through it. Her body was enveloped in ice, as if she had flung herself into fresh snowmelt. For an instant, her heart slowed and she idly wondered if it would ever beat again. Truly, this was the chill of the grave.

Then she was through to the other side.

Her legs were too cold to obey and she staggered as her feet hit the ground, trying to regain her balance. That’s when the arrows began to fall.

She could see the archers in the distance, just clear of the trees. Their bows were formed from spines that bent hideously everytime they drew back on those ghostly strings. They didn’t have much skill, but the three of them shot as fast as they could.

Katlyn gave a frustrated hiss as she rolled to her right, trying to avoid projectiles she could barely see.

I’m not running away from a Slayer. I’m on the run from an army!

Throughout the pursuit, the Necromancer hadn’t even shown his face, yet she’d been pushed to this state. If she took an arrow to the leg, or knee, she was dead.

Need to get out of range….

Even with her Ranger’s Endurance, it was difficult to force energy into her legs, but she pushed and finally began to move. Just as she began to gain momentum, she heard a voice for the first time during this pursuit.

Words of power slammed into the air, twisting the fabric of the world.

At the sound, Katlyn turned her head to see the dark-clothed Necromancer had emerged from the treeline, his hand extended like a claw towards her. Despite her being on the run, he was still well protected, with a number of skeletons bearing shields close by his side. Since she’d seen him at the graveyard, he’d found time to adorn himself in a bone-like armour. Maybe it was bones…. How nice for him.

Her hands itched for her bow.

Black Magick erupted from the Mage’s hand and billowed toward her like a cloud of locusts. She tried to dodge, but the spell raced across the space between them, covering over a hundred metres in a matter of seconds. With a surge of energy borne from desperation, she lunged to the side at the last possible moment. It almost worked. The black cloud of Magick stretched for her as a hand, wrapping itself around her leg and dragging her to the ground.

With a cry of horror and rage, she hacked at the spell with her machete, but that did nothing to disperse the arcane energy. Terror threatening to engulf her, the young Ranger turned to face the skeletons who were now catching up to her, blades held in trembling hands.

Except they didn’t move to fight her, they simply surrounded her, remaining out of her reach. A few seconds after, the spell dissipated, but it was already too late. Five skeletons surrounded her now, and more weren’t far away. Probably, the ghosts were starting to catch up as well. She was caught.

Katlyn sank to her knees as the horrible implications of that began to sink into her mind. Would she be killed? Would her remains be desecrated, used to create an Undead servant just like these? Mother and Father would never get to bury her.

As she thought of her family, hot tears began to roll down her cheeks. When she heard booted footfalls approaching through the grass, she scrubbed them away, angrily. She wouldn’t give this bastard the satisfaction of seeing her cry. If she was going to die, she’d die like a Slayer.

She kept her head down as the man approached, machete still gripped in her hand. If he drew close enough….

Of course, he didn’t. The prick stopped ten paces away, and sighed.

“By the Abyss,” he groaned. “I hate this.”

That… hadn’t been what she expected to hear, but what did it matter? This sadistic arsehole would slit her throat and carve up her remains any second now.

…. Any… second.

Surprised to still be alive, she finally turned and looked up at the Mage. His expression was twisted into something between regret and irritation. Eventually, he reached up, slapped a hand to his face and sighed.

“What am I going to do with you?”

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