"I wait the coming, the coming of one,
The thousand-year old one, when battle will be done."
Ren's frustration at the knight's refusal quickly turned to horror. A deep, throbbing voice filled the air.
"Then wait no longer, chanting fool!" A black mist rose from the ground just outside the clearing. "You and I will finish this, Miltiades. This time I will win."
The mist swirled, forming the night-black ghost of a ghastly warrior. The spectral fighter rode a nightmare horse of writhing, dark smoke. The beast pawed the earth with vaporous hooves. Huge chunks of grassy earth flew in all directions. The ghost, vaguely human, drew a saber of extraordinary length. The weapon glowed as black fire danced up and down its blade. The sword looked to dispense death at a touch.
Every undead creature in the graveyard turned and bowed to the mist warrior. Taking advantage of the sudden lull in the battle, Talenthia and Andoralson tore into the monsters, swinging weapons furiously, destroying three or four creatures with every blow.
Evaine and Gamaliel stood nearest the night-black ghost. Wave upon wave of evil radiated from the eyes and body of the spectral warrior and its mount. Evaine conjured numerous spells of protection, creating layers of green magic around herself and Gamaliel.
The ghost warrior stared at the huge knight in plate mail armor. "Miltiades," it groaned, its voice guttural. "Do we fight alone, paladin, or shall I empower my army to kill your friends?"
"We fight alone, ancient one. The living beings will not interfere." This last was directed at Ren.
The ranger nodded in agreement. "So be it, paladin." But Ren and Stolen continued destroying the horde of skeletons by bashing them with steel-shod hooves and Ren's magical blade.
Following their lead, Gamaliel waded into the still-kneeling masses of undead, cutting and chopping. No creatures would remain to attack if the knight lost.
Evaine created missiles of magical energy. Streams of green sparks spewed from her fingertips, killing over a dozen zombies at a time. The creatures did not fight, they knelt meekly, oblivious to their certain doom.
Miltiades, the mysterious knight, marched to the edge of the clearing to face the ghost warrior. The warrior of Tyr no longer chanted.
The knight's shield blazed with a blue glow; the symbol of Tyr engraved upon it glowed golden. Miltiades's war helmet hummed with a protective power all its own, bathing the knight in a foggy blue mist. An enormous sword-one that most men would have had to wield with two hands-was easily swung in one hand by the knight. The blade was etched end to end in runes.
The ghost warrior calmly sat astride his vaporous mount, his saber dripping black fire.
The knight of Tyr struck first. Rolling low, he cut the legs out from under the ghost horse. His sword blasted a shower of blue sparks as the blade severed the front legs of the mount. The beast fell forward and the ghost warrior tumbled to the ground, then rolled up on his feet. The horse vanished with a blood-curdling cry of pain.
"Puts us on more even footing, Zarl!"
"Though you are a paladin, you never were an honorable fighter, Miltiades. Let us finish this."
Blades crashed as the two swung and parried. Miltiades was engulfed in a blue aura that hummed when it touched the ghost's black mist. The battle was evenly matched. Neither landed a blow for long minutes.
The rest of the group found it difficult to keep their attention on the undead creatures that surrounded them. None had ever seen a battle like the fight between these two mysterious warriors. But the five companions finally succeeded in destroying the hundreds of undead in the graveyard. In minutes, bones and withered body parts lay ankle-deep all over the clearing. Ren, the druids, Gamaliel, and Evaine were all exhausted and gasping for breath after the massacre.
The five retreated to the opposite end of the clearing to watch the final battle. Evaine magically levitated herself and Gamaliel to the roof of one of the mausoleums to gain a better view.
The two enemies were beginning to land their blows. Every time the black blade struck, bits of ebony flame left the sword to strike the paladin or sizzle to the ground. Wherever the flames landed, the grass withered and the moist topsoil turned to dust.
Both combatants expended themselves fully, taking titanic swipes at each other with their enchanted blades. Both were remarkably skilled, but this battle was not one of finesse and swordplay. Each wanted the other dead with a fury. Every ounce of muscle and energy was poured into the battle.
Unencumbered by a physical body, the ghost warrior moved faster and faster, circling around the knight. The black flaming sword landed too often, ringing against the paladin's armor. Each strike seemed softened by the blue mist coming from the knight's war helmet. But the blue mist was fading; it grew thinner and thinner with every strike, as the protective energies of the helmet were eaten away by the flames of the black sword.
"He's going to lose! I'm casting a-"
"No!" Ren shouted, grabbing at Evaine's foot, which dangled over the side of the mausoleum. Gamaliel, even quicker, pounced off the structure to tower between the spellcaster and Ren. His big hands found Ren's neck. "You must never touch her!"
Evaine leaped off the crypt and yanked at Gamaliel. "You can't attack Ren!" The barbarian realized what he was doing and dropped his grip instantly. Ren choked, but he hadn't been harmed. The ranger reeled back, trying to find his words.
"If we don't do something, the paladin will die," Evaine insisted.
Ren glared deep into Gamaliel's eyes. For the first time, he noticed their deep golden color and catlike pupils. But the revelation was lost in his fury.
"This is an affair of honor," the ranger croaked through bruised vocal cords. "Whatever happens, you must not interfere. We can fight and defeat this creature together if the paladin falls, but first we must give the paladin a chance to win."
The battle between the strange warriors raged. The paladin knew he was losing. He wasn't fast enough to keep up with the steadily moving ghost. More and more of the evil blade strikes found their marks. In a desperate move, the paladin threw down his magical shield and gripped his weapon with both hands.
The ghost shouted with glee and swung his blade to cut into the discarded shield. Black flame met holy power and, with a loud ringing, the shield was split in two. But the ruined halves of the shield stuck fast to the blade. The ghost's misty face showed his shock and anger as he awkwardly tried to recover his weapon. The paladin struck, cleaving the ghost from head to thigh.
The only audible sound to mark the passing of the ghost was a soft, "No, not again." The warrior spirit shriveled into a thin black mist and evaporated.
The paladin fell to his knees, gripping the broken remains of the shield. Instead of a cry of joy at his victory, the knight murmured, "What have I done? What have I done with the gift of Tyr? I should have known Zarl would attack the shield when I threw it down."
"What would have happened if you hadn't thrown down the shield?" Ren now crouched quietly in the grass behind the knight. The others stood behind him.
The paladin turned to look at the five strangers. "After my destruction, Zarl would have easily defeated all of you. He would have then used his evil to raise an indestructible undead army and sweep the continent. His goal would have been to destroy every living thing in Faerun, even if it took a thousand years. He was evil and destructive in life, and he remains so in death."
Andoralson expressed his compassion for the knight. "I believe Tyr would think one holy relic was worth the lives of millions of people. Don't you agree?"
Talenthia bent down to help the paladin to his feet. "Take off that heavy helm and let me see your wounds. I'd be happy to heal you, if you'll allow me."