D&D 02-The Living Dead Read online

  The elf tested the string of her new longbow with one finger and released it. The bowstring twanged a clear musical note, a sure sign of the weapon's masterful elven make. Mialee accepted the bow only after Zalyn insisted. She didn't feel right taking so much from the temple, but Zalyn assured her that the weapons were there to fight evil.

  Their mysterious amnesiac still carried his short sword, but had added a simple long sword, an intricately carved leather weapons belt, and a lightweight helm selected from the temple's armory.

  Devis carried a dagger that looked extremely valuable, insisting many times that "the heft felt just right." More importantly, he also had a new elven crossbow and his old long sword and leather armor.

  Zalyn had not overlooked herself when the weapons were parceled out. When the gnome proudly walked out in what she called "full battle dress," Mialee had been forced to stifle a laugh.

  Zalyn gleamed in the afternoon sun. Her helm bore an upturned crescent and an improbable plume of blue feathers. Her silver breastplate carried the same crescent, and to Mialee's surprise, actually fit Zalyn like a glove.

  Zalyn confessed that she'd had her eye on the armor for months, ever since discovering it in the armory. Mialee didn't ask why a temple serving elves would have such tiny armor. Zalyn seemed to think it was the will of Corellon Larethian, and the wizard was loath to contradict her. For all Mialee knew, it was.

  The little raven flapped down from a nearby branch to settle on one athel wood flange next to Mialee's ear.

  "Would you like me to scout the bridge, Mialee?" Darji asked.

  "Not alone, Darji," Mialee said, shaking her head. "But thanks for offering. It's a good idea." Although she could not commune with Favrid's familiar, the little bird often seemed to be reading her mind.

  The wizard peered toward the bridge and slung the longbow onto her back. She glanced back toward the tree line.

  "Devis," she called, "Darji wants to scout the bridge, but I'm not letting her go alone. Catch up with us, we'll wait there."

  "Sure, fine," the bard whispered loudly somewhere in the dark woods.

  The trio set out down the road when a tremendous splash erupted ahead of them, loud enough to drown out the roar of the river itself. Mialee, Zalyn, and Diir broke into a run at the sound and Darji took flight.

  "Hey, what was that?" Devis hissed from the trees, but his companions were already out of earshot.

  Devis was still buckling his sword belt as he burst from the trees onto the road. The others were already at the bridge, but at this distance he could scarcely make them out through the mist. The river was kicking up a lot more moisture than it had been when horrible indigestion forced the bard into the woods. He ran through the cold vapor to join his companions.

  He arrived in time to see Mialee dive to one side and an arrow cut through the air where her head had been a half-second before.

  "Ambush!" Zalyn cried, drawing her short sword.

  "Ambush?" Devis shouted over the roar of the river, quickly scanning the roiling water. "What made that splash?"

  None of his companions was in any position to answer, and within seconds Devis forgot the question. A volley of arrows shot out from the forest on the north shore of the river Mormsilath, forcing the party to scatter onto the bridge.

  Devis heard Mialee whisper a spell as Darji took to the air. The bard saw a faint blue glow enshroud the elf woman for a moment. The aura soaked into the wizard's skin and disappeared.

  A personal armor field, he guessed. Smart move. Mialee's skimpy, borrowed robe barely protected her from fatal sunburn, let alone a speeding arrow. He sung a quick refrain and felt a similar magical field surround his own body.

  Diir already held both swords in his hands and was scanning the tree line.

  The bard stooped to pick up one of the projectiles while keeping his eye on the north shore. He recognized the make immediately. He'd seen the like a hundred times in the tent city on Morkeryth.

  Something inside Devis snapped.

  The bard had tried to live a good life, if only on the fringe of polite society. He'd befriended the downtrodden. He'd never resorted to blood to settle a dispute unless he was given no other choice. And when he did dip into the odd temple treasury or innkeeper's cashbox, he always made sure to spread a little of the wealth to those less fortunate than himself.

  Yesterday, all Devis wanted to do was impress the pretty girl and maybe coax her back into one of the private rooms at the Silver Goblet. He didn't deserve this final insult. The god of the open road had abandoned his balladeer. Devis was under attack by halfling highwaymen.

  His companions could only stare as the bard stomped back the way they had come, an arrow clutched in his white-knuckled fist.

  "All right, you idiots!" Devis shouted at the forest as he neared the end of the wooden slats. Another hail of arrows erupted from the trees, sending Mialee, Diir, and Zalyn running for cover that wasn't there. Devis continued off the bridge and strode with grim purpose to the tree line, ignoring the volley of deadly projectiles. By dumb luck, all the arrows missed him but one. That shaft should have struck him, but it deflected away as if by magic.

  The bard stopped, placed one hand on his sword hilt, and shook the arrow in his fist at the unseen attackers. "Who's out there?" Devis hollered at the top of his lungs. The bard hurled the arrow into the trees and drew his sword. He raised the blade over his head like a pirate king and snarled, "YOU CAN ALL GO TO HELL!"

  Water roared in Devis' ears. High overhead, Darji cawed. A wolf howled somewhere in the forest, far south of the river.

  "Devis?" a small, hesitant voice called from the tree line. A tiny figure, only slightly larger than Zalyn, stepped from the shadow-ridden woods. The halfling held a short bow in one hand. He wore simple, homespun clothes, a quiver, a dagger, and a familiar cloak of not-quite-cured animal hides. One eye was covered by a thick leather patch made from a dog's ear.

  "Hound-Eye?" Devis laughed.

  Hound-Eye didn't answer, merely stared intently at Devis with one eye. Someone had reattached his foot, but the halfling stood at an angle that told the bard an expert had not done the job. Devis had never seen Hound-Eye look so deadly serious. Two more halflings emerged, flanking the man Devis had known as a petty thief. He recognized the two new arrivals.

  The female in the wolfskin tunic was called Takata. She ran with a gang that fancied themselves wild bandits of the forest, but her base was in Tent City. She was a powerful figure in the community, bringing stolen goods and pilfered wealth into the makeshift village at an admirable profit. What most people didn't know was that Hound-Eye and Takata were married and had two young children. The male in the improbably bright velvet suit Devis knew only as Bloody Bill. He and his well-dressed outfit ran the other half of Tent City, specializing in blackmail, gambling, and assassination.

  Something had drastically shaken up the status quo. These were pillars of the community, relatively speaking. Why had they taken to the open road like common bandits?

  "Well?" Devis asked. "What are you doing this far south? Bill, you need a new suit?"

  Hound-Eye looked to his left and right, then cleared his throat. "It's gone, Devis," he said with genuine sadness. "All of it. We're all that's left."

  "What's gone?" Devis's voice trailed off as understanding intruded. His hunch had been right, unfortunately. "Oh. Oh, gods. Hound-Eye." He waved his sword and said more clearly, "All of you. I'm so sorry." The bard swallowed. "How did it happen?" he asked. He already knew the answer. "Undead?"

  "Wolves," the one-eyed thief said. "Not normal ones."

  "They devoured our families whole," Bloody Bill growled. "Nothing could stop them. They didn't feel pain."

  "Or fear," Takata added. "I'd never met a wolf I couldn't scare off before today, or a wight I couldn't kill. We get both wandering into Tent City all the time. These were something else."

  "Of course they were something else!" Hound-Eye barked. "They were both!"

  "E
xcuse me," Zalyn interrupted from behind Devis. She strode fearlessly forward, oversized shoulder bag clanking against her shining armor with each step, and deliberately pulled off her leather gloves and dropped them onto the bridge. "I am a healer. Please, I can help your wounded." She raised her hands to show her empty palms. "I bear you no ill will, or, um, anything like that."

  The last thing Devis expected to see next was an enormous, black crocodile with empty eye sockets explode from the river and charge onto the bank straight at the hapless halflings. But he did.

  The survivors of Tent City screamed and scattered, but the croc—a thirty-footer, at least—moved with supernatural speed and it snapped up Bloody Bill in one gulp.

  The bank of the river shook as the huge crocodile swiveled its massive body on the narrow beach. White foam shot high into the air as the creature's broad tail cut across the water's surface. The crocodile snorted, a curious noise that sounded less like an animal and far more like a disgusted three-year-old.

  Devis had to be hallucinating. For just a moment, he actually thought the croc's empty sockets flashed twin pinpricks of blood-red light.

  And had the crocodile just grinned at him?

  Diir's voice cut through the roar of the river and snapped Devis out of his trance.

  "Bridge!" the elf cried.

  Devis just managed to avoid several collisions as he turned to run south onto the wooden span. The crocodile followed him with its nose. For a split-second Devis thought the creature might simply return to the river, but the bridge shuddered violently as the massive zombie crocodile heaved its bulk out onto the thick, wooden planks.

  The crocodile took three steps onto the centuries-old span. Devis heard the ancient pylons groan under the reptile's weight. A crossbeam snapped with a deafening crack, and the east side of the bridge dropped a foot. Everyone on the bridge, Devis included, jerked violently to one side.

  The crocodile lumbered closer. All four of its tree-trunk legs rested on the creaking structure, and its tail churned sand and spray into the air. Shockwaves shuddered through the bridge and sent everyone stumbling.

  Devis lost his balance and landed hard on his solar plexus. The bard gasped for breath. He couldn't see a thing, and his ears felt stuffed with cotton.

  He heard more beams and pylons cracking and dug into the wet wooden planks with the tips of his fingers. The bridge dipped like a swayback horse under the reptile's weight. Devis felt himself slipping toward the monstrous croc, plank by plank.

  Then he felt a pair of strong arms hook him under the shoulders and drag him away from the monster. Devis raised his battered head and looked at Diir, who somehow maintained his balance on the crumbling bridge as he dragged the bard away from immediate harm. With a grunt, the elf heaved and tossed Devis to the south shore of the river with his free hand. The rough landing left him staring at Hound-Eye's fur-booted feet.

  Diir shouted over the noise of rushing water and cracking timbers, "I've a plan. Hit it with everything on my word!"

  Devis heard the ring of elven steel cut through the roar of the river. Diir, he guessed, had just drawn his magic short sword. He noted absently that his friend's vocabulary was growing by leaps and bounds.

  The little gnome cleric scampered to his side with a clank of armor and loose vials. Zalyn helped raise the bard into a sitting position and knelt on the ground behind Devis to prop him up. As soon as Devis opened his eyes, he immediately wished Diir had left him to slide into the crocodile's belly. At least that would have been quick, and he would have known his friends had outlived him, if only for a few minutes.

  He tucked his knees and pushed off with his palms, forcing his body forward, and rolled onto the balls of his feet. Zalyn grasped his hands before he could roll backward, and helped him stand.

  Devis flicked a leather strap from his right shoulder. The battered lute dropped into his hand from the carrying strap he'd contrived from a "sling of protection" Zalyn pointed out in her non-stop travelogue through the temple armory. She promised it would deflect arrows, and apparently it had worked.

  Devis winced as the convex body of the lute pressed against what was probably a broken rib, but he strummed a chord anyway. The sound was ugly and out of tune.

  Without haste, Devis twisted a peg at the end of the lute's neck and plucked the offending string again, his focus on the crescendoing twang. He picked it twice, listened. Devis fretted the chord, hit each string in turn with his thumb. Then he picked up speed, plucking with flying fingers, now and then pausing to turn a peg or bend a lute string with his thumb, still in desperate pursuit of harmony.

  Diir, Mialee, Takata, and Hound-Eye stood shoulder to shoulder in the cold spray at the edge of the bridge, staring down the gargantuan reptile. The crocodile now covered half the bridge, and what wooden planks remained behind the monster had been reduced to a tangled snarl of broken lumber. Hefty chunks of the structure had already broken free and floated downriver.

  They needed inspiration. Devis launched into a ballad of ancient heroes, stalwart men and women standing tall, courageous in their resolve, the usual themes. He hated falling back on the standards, but circumstances didn't allow Devis the luxury of calling forth a new song from scratch, and in this case, the words of the music had very little to do with the magical effect he wanted.

  The mist carried Devis's voice—cracking now and again, but serviceable—to his companions at the water's edge. Takata and Hound-Eye straightened and seemed to grow just a little bit taller as they held their short bows leveled at the croc, arrows nocked and ready. Diir twirled the gleaming, engraved short sword and shifted into a loose combat stance.

  Mialee raised her right hand and Devis saw a ball of golden fire flare around her fingers.

  Zalyn truly took Devis's song to heart. She loaded her small crossbow, pulled her feathered helm snugly over her head, and dashed past Devis to join the others with a war cry that made the bard's ears ring.

  The remains of the shattered bridge cracked and popped with the crocodile's every shifting step. If the thing had been intelligent, Devis might have wondered if the creature was trying to drown out the bard's music with the cacophony of breaking lumber. The half-elf peered intently into the crocodile's black sockets through the swirling water spray.

  Devis blinked and momentarily stopped strumming the lute. The crocodile's eyes had flashed blood red and the bard felt a blackness grip his soul. Devis's voice faltered, and he suddenly found himself fumbling for the lyrics to a fighting song he'd known since his eighth summer.

  The bard wobbled with sudden vertigo and watched as his companions' resolve wilted. Zalyn visibly slumped in her armor, and the fire in Mialee's hand dimmed ever so slightly.

  The crocodile chose that moment to charge, jaws flung wide. Jagged yellow teeth the size of a boar's tusks glinted in the filtered sunlight as the eyeless beast lumbered out of the mist. Heavy wooden slats snapped and flew into the foaming current as the croc's obsidian claws and considerable mass tore the bridge apart.

  Diir held his ground and stared down the reptile's open gullet.

  Devis felt an icy hand release his heart, and an entirely new ballad swelled inside him, demanding to be released. The words erupted uncontrollably and he swung his hand down to strike the lute strings so hard that his fingers bled. Devis's new tune magically drowned the sound of the river and the snarling, undead reptile that barreled snout-first toward the bard's most taciturn ally. He saw the others swell with martial pride.

  Diir raised a gloved hand. The crocodile's jaws would close around him in seconds.

  The elf's glove chopped the air. "Now!"

  At his signal, Takata and Hound-Eye frantically pumped arrow after arrow into the creature's open maw. Zalyn's crossbow twanged and snapped as she fired and reloaded with surprising speed.

  The bard rounded the second verse of his spontaneous melody and headed into the third movement.

  Mialee shouted the last word of her spell and threw the ball of golde
n energy overhand into the crocodile's throat. The missile exploded and sizzled. Foul black smoke spread from the crocodile's jaws and mingled with spray from the raging river. Devis continued singing even as he lost sight of his companions in the haze.

  Mialee and Takata emerged from one side of the cloud to Devis's left, while Zalyn and Hound-Eye circled out of the smog on Devis's right to flank the beast. Diir had disappeared.

  No, there he is, Devis corrected himself as the monster's black-scaled jaws emerged, snarling, from the smog, followed by the rest of the enormous croc. Diir sat astride the crocodile's neck like a pixie on a warhorse. The bard backed away as quickly as he dared, leaving the third chorus behind and diving into an extended, improvisational bridge that let him lend some attention to where his feet were going.

  The monster's jaws snapped shut with a deafening clap and the creature shook its neck like a wet dog, trying vainly to dislodge its unwanted rider. A real, living crocodile would have simply rolled into the water, but this undead creature seemed leery of exposing its underbelly to its opponents. The thing was fighting with intelligence, the bard realized, and hoped that Diir—who seemed to be a natural strategist and a hell of an acrobat—could hold on. Blast after blast of energy slammed into the creature's side from the tip of Mialee's wand while Zalyn and the halflings peppered the croc's thick hide with arrows.

  Devis saw the croc-riding elf look him in the eye as the song rose to new heights. Diir raised his arms, staying connected to the crocodile only by virtue of his straining leg muscles. The elf twirled the short sword in his right hand so it pointed down, grasped the hilt in both fists, and raised the sword over his head. In one motion, Diir drove the point into the crocodile's brain.