The sun was just splitting the horizon when Jorg and Carver crested the ridge. The boy had been a lot quieter since finding his friend at the fort. They’d found the girl stumbling down the steps with a short fellow from The Society. She was lucky to be alive, doubly so that Jorg was there to heal her. She’d thanked him after, though there was much bitterness in it. Fria and Carver exchanged a few words as they set to searching for and freeing the other prisoners. They probably wouldn’t have found them if that half breed hadn’t caused such a racket. Aiding The Society, what has this forest done to me? Jorg scratched his beard, that familiar doubt creeping into his bones.
Fria told him that Darian had defeated one of the necromancer’s strongest servants, and that he’d slaughtered a whole horde of the undead in the process. Jorg doubted her story then, especially because this supposed undead scourge was nowhere to be found. But the more he thought about it, the more he believed her. And, though it pained him to admit it, he and the boy would both have died assaulting that fort alone. It was a stroke of luck Darian and Fria had distracted the fort’s defenders, giving them enough time to slaughter the Lich Cultists and destroy the Nether Gate. But I saw Darian conversing with that Warg when I used [Memory Delve]. Was he not colluding with the enemy? Thinking about the whole mess made Jorg’s head hurt, so he focused his attention on the black splotch swirling down in the forest.
“I saw a glimpse of it while I was scouting the other day,” Carver said. “Couldn’t be sure it was a gate, but I’m certain now.”
“Good work.” Jorg gave the boy a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “I’ve got two firebombs, and one flash bomb left.” He gave Yulia’s satchel a soft tap. “They’ll have to be enough.”
“It’s odd though,” Carver said, peering down into the forest. “There doesn’t seem to be any undead on patrol.”
“I think this part of the forest belongs to the Wargs.”
“Well, if it is, where are they?”
The boy had a point. This section of the forest had been awfully quiet. Wargs were intelligent, prone to launching ambushes. So why hadn’t they?
“Something’s not right. I can feel it in my bones.” Jorg ran his fingers through his beard. “But our job remains the same.”
“You believe Fria?”
“Don’t see why she would lie. Her and the pale boy had been at that fort for something, and it didn’t seem like they were invited. Why, you telling me you think she lied to us?”
“Just asking is all.” Carver pulled back from the ridge, Jorg following. “If we destroy this gate, that leaves only one more, right?”
“According to the information I was given, yes. And if what Fria said was true, her and that boy will be tackling the last one.”
“What will we do after we destroy this gate? Go looking for them?”
“I suppose so.” Jorg thought back to the night he tried to kill that boy. He wasn’t human, and he certainly was no elf, and those fangs…but Jorg had acted too hastily, let his faith in Argus cloud his judgement. Some things never change.
“We can worry about what comes later after we destroy this gate. Need I remind you the last nearly killed me?” Jorg said with a shudder. The gate had sapped his life force, nearly sending him unconscious. If it wasn’t for his skill [Energy Resistance] he would most likely be dead.
Carver turned down the hill, obviously conflicted. Argus’ teachings denounced the undead and the monstrous, sometimes leaving Argus worshipers to seem like raging fanatics. But the tenants of the church were placed there for a reason. If this Darian fellow was a monster, ultimately it would be up to the elders to decide in the end. All Jorg could do in the meantime was trust his gut.
The forest darkened the further they traveled, like the light was being sucked from the air. Jorg followed Carver, letting the young huntsman stay some distance ahead, his perception better tuned to the sounds of the forest. Not to mention Jorg, despite his best efforts, couldn’t help but rattle his armor with each step. His mace and shield also had the bad habit of getting tangled in the underbrush.
Carver raised his hand, crouching to the ground. “Warg tracks,” he whispered. “And big ones.”
“Where do they lead?” Jorg asked, eyes tracing the shadow cast forest.
“Deeper. Maybe even toward the gate.”
Jorg still didn’t know why the Wargs and undead were working together. Such a thing had never been reported before. But since they were, these tracks might lead them straight to their target.
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“We follow them for now,” Jorg said, anxiety bubbling in his gut.
He and Carver moved further into the forest, both ready to fight or flee as the situation required. They traveled along the tracks until they led to a break in the tree line. Crouching amidst the pines, they spotted it.
The gate was a pile of bones stacked atop a raised dais of rune carved stone. Dark swathes of solid shadow spiraled out from it, dark purple crystals placed around it to collect the roiling negative energy.
“Are there no guards?” Jorg asked, squinting at the darkness.
“Look closer,” Carver said, pointing.
Jorg followed the boy’s finger and then he saw it. “A Death Knight.”
They’d fought one at the fort. It stood guarding the door into the room that housed the Nether Gate. They were like Bone Knights, but tougher and faster, and a few could cast spells. They were formidable foes, but why only have a single guard?
“This feels like a trap,” Carver said.
“Perhaps it is, but even so.” Jorg tapped the satchel with the end of his mace. “If I can get close enough to lob one of these in there, gates destroyed, trap or not.”
“You think you can make it all the way there before a Warg snatches you?” Carver stepped back. “Let me check around before we make any hasty decisions.”
Jorg frowned. He never did like waiting. But he agreed, even if it pained him. He leaned against a tree and kept his eyes and ears open. After what felt like an eternity, Carver returned.
“No signs of any Wargs or the undead.” He looked at the Nether Gate. “They likely would have attacked me if they saw me. But this isn’t right. There should be more guards.”
“Perhaps we slipped through their defenses? Or maybe all their forces were focused on the fort?” Jorg rose, then stepped past Carver. “Either way, we still have a Death Knight to deal with.” Jorg frowned. “We’ll have to draw it away from the gate.” He looked Carver up and down. “Up for being the bait?”
Carver scoffed. “If I must.”
“Good, then I’ll wait here.” If they tried fighting it around the gate, not only would they be drained, but the Death Knight would be constantly healed.
As Jorg watched Carver walk into the field, he activated [Lesser Protection from Evil] and [Energy Resistance]. May Argus light our path.
The Death Knight wasted no time charging after Carver. Undead like it were powerful, but necromancers had to give them simple orders. Perfect undead, like the kind Jorg’s predecessors hunted, were intelligent and capable of rational thought and planning. But beasts like these could easily be tricked.
Jorg burst from the trees, his armor clanging with each heavy step. Six Dark Crystals formed around the Death Knight's head, two of them nearly skewering Carver as he sped past Jorg. With his enchanted shield up, Jorg was able to block the reaming crystals before he and the Death Knight collided.
It brought its shield around, Jorg’s holy mace sparking in divine fire as the metal smashed together. The Death knight roared, its axe coming down hard, the air rushing around it. Jorg took the blow on his shield, his knees nearly buckling. Then an arrow bounced off the Death Knight’s helmet, its body encased in amber light. With it now slowed by Carver’s skill, Jorg smashed into the shield again and again, driving the beast back.
He cast [Holy Flame], smiling as a pillar of white light engulfed the beast, searing it in Argus’ wrath. With it distracted, Jorg imbued his next attack with [Zealot’s Fury]. With his mace glowing like the sun itself, Jorg cracked into the Death Knight’s chest, shattering not only its armor but the bone beneath. It retaliated with a wayward axe swing, one that Jorg easily blocked, his mace smashing into the abomination’s chest once again.
Now off balance, Jorg bashed its knee in, his next blow clapping it on the helmet, holy light bursting as its skull turned to powder. Divine wrath filled him as he struck it again and again, reducing the monster to nothing but churned metal.
“It’s dead,” Carver said from behind. “Really dead, I mean.”
Jorg stepped back, lungs near to bursting. He reached into the satchel, his fist closing around one of the firebombs. Time to end this.
***
Gershank watched the paladin and sighed. He wasn’t very far from him and the archer, but his unique skill [Perfect Concealment] would keep him undetectable so long as he didn’t move. Watching the pair as they celebrated defeating the Death Knight nearly made him laugh. The fact they followed his tracks here also pointed to their stupidity. Gershank’s kind were renowned for their ambushes, and yet they followed his obvious prints all the way to the gate. Stupid creatures, but useful.
The paladin tossed his bomb into the gate, the structure crumbling as fire consumed it. That makes two gates down, and I have a feeling my pale ally will be taking the third before long. The cursed collar around Gershank’s neck would constrict and suffocate him to death if he directly moved against his master. But he played the bumbling fool around her and her minions, the necromancer never knowing he knew the collar’s secret. The collar would react if he attacked her or her underlings, but its effects only worked if the person who originally cursed him still lived.
The paladin thrust a triumphant fist in the air and Gershank contemplating eating him. Killing him and the boy would be child’s play, but he let his fangs rest. They could be useful distractions in the battle to come. But Victoria will know something is wrong now. She summoned all her undead south, leaving only a single guard. With me still among the living, she’ll know I let the gate fall.
Gershank’s body tensed. I think it’s time I take a stroll down south and pay my poor master a visit. Things were reaching the end now. It wouldn’t be long until she brought all her power against the pale one and his allies. But Gershank would be there, watching from the shadows, waiting for his chance at revenge.