The mists
gathered all around, damping the sound, but Markun, Alistair, Rina, Faenoth,
Windaralin, and Virgil stood ready. Faenoth raised his staff, casting off light
for us to see by, but it didn't have much effect on the mists.
Rina
pointed, drawing Alistair's attention to the direction. In a smooth motion he
drew his sword. Virgil began playing on his flute, a rousing tune in an effort
to drive off the effects of the mists.
I clutched
my staff, wishing Virgil's song worked better.
Windaralin
chanted softly and sent forth a wind that blew into the mist, dispersing it
along a wide swath.
I wished it
hadn't.
In the path
shambled corpses, some obviously simple zombies, others stronger and more
deadly.
Markun
shouted something in his native Dwarven; I didn't know what, but the effect
became immediate as the medallion glowed and the first row of zombies
disintegrated. Two of the stronger corpses froze, but the others kept coming.
"Faenoth,"
Alistair said.
A ball of
fire streamed out of Faenoth's hand, the boom of the fire made an odd
counterpoint to Virgil's song. After the fire, Alistair charged, Rina joining
him. I cast a spell, making Markun grow to be taller than Alistair's, then he
raced off to the battle.
The din of
weapons and armor in the battle meshed with Virgil's song, and I felt my
spirits rise even more, especially as Windy and Faenoth tossed more spells into
the battle, sending in bolts of acid and tiny meteors with pinpoint accuracy.
Then
Virgil's song cut off abruptly. I turned to see something black and nearly
transparent clung to him, making him wither in front of my eyes. Faenoth swung
his staff, but it passed straight through the monster with no effect. Windaralin
used a spell, but the electricity caused a small shriek, but nothing more as it
clutched to Virgil.
Faenoth
pulled out a wand, leveling it at the monster and Virgil.
"Turn
away," Windy warned, but it was too late. A tongue of flame poured out of the
wand, blasting into the monster and Virgil.
The monster
screamed.
Virgil
didn't.
The monster
had already withered him to the point he could no longer speak, and the fire
was a quicker mercy than the death the monster likely planned for him.
The fire
and battle faded, and I found myself staring at the charred fragment of a
wooden flute.
I scooped
up the charred wood, feeling the burnt, sooty edges in my fingers even as I
recognized the faint smell of smoked apples.
"Virgil
always said fruit woods made the best instruments," I said softly, feeling
Rina come up beside me.
"There's
nothing like an instrument that tastes good," she finished for me.