"How did you come to follow it?"
"The business I had with the woman put me close to where it dug up itself from the ground," Haarn said.
The elf frowned at the pile of gray-white powder and asked, "The skeleton had the power to create this shambler?"
"Yes."
"You've fought skeletons before?"
"Of course I have," Haarn said. "I faced my first skeletons with you."
"So you did. Have you ever seen one then or since that can handle magic like this?"
Haarn shook his head and started forward in the direction the skeleton had taken. Broadfoot lifted his big head and whined a little. The bear put his front paws out and tried to rise but couldn't get up the strength.
"There's a jewel in its chest," Haarn said as he pushed himself into a jog, slogging through the water. The elf followed.
"What kind of jewel?"
"I don't know," Haarn admitted. "I didn't get a good look at it, but I know it created that false shambler."
"That creature was very strong," the elf said. "If it had been any more powerful, I might not have been able to destroy it."
Staggering forward, Druz felt her body screaming as she took up their rapid pace. They plunged seemingly without effort through the uneven land and brush that constantly threw Druz's own gait off and slapped at her eyes. She didn't know what reserves Haarn must have been drawing from after the frantic pace they'd been traveling at since morning and the beating he'd taken from the shambler.
Just as black spots started swimming in Druz's vision and her breathing was beginning to burn the back of her throat, she saw the druids-the elf was surely another druid-slip through the wall of brush and scraggly trees. The land sloped down and water that had been lazy and stagnant on the marsh gathered speed as it tumbled down the long, steep descent ahead.
Gazing at the broken ground, shading her eyes with one hand, Druz saw where several streams had formed and bled off into a small river that roiled between two irregular banks. Nearly a quarter-mile away, the skeleton kept up its steady pace. It pumped its arms, running hard and throwing out clods of mud from its skeletal feet.
"There," Haarn said, pointing.
The elf glanced at him and asked, "Can you shift?"
"Not now," Haarn said.
Nodding, the elf lifted his arms.
"The skeleton is very powerful," Haarn warned.
He turned and jogged along the edge of the steep dropoff, looking down.
"So am I," the elf said.
He held his hands straight up, and as she watched, Druz saw the elf shrink and sprout feathers at the same time. In seconds, he was a great horned owl, almost identical to the one she'd seen Haarn turn into.
The owl took to the skies, leaning forward and falling over the edge. Spreading his wings, the great bird caught the wind and leveled off in a steep glide that took him straight toward the skeleton.
Haarn found a less steep section of the incline and started down. Druz followed him, nearly falling half a dozen times in the first three steps.
"You know this elf?" she asked, watching the owl bear down on his quarry.
"Ettrian," Haarn said.
He released his hold on the incline and slid twenty feet down. A cascade of falling mud and rock followed after him, breaking like a wave over his head and shoulders.
Druz sheathed her long sword and removed the scabbard and belt from her waist. She gripped the weapon in both hands as she stepped off the incline and slid after Haarn. The passage was rough and bruising, but she caught herself at the end of it, not surprised that the druid was already in motion. As they slid down the next section, Druz saw the great horned owl fold his wings and drop.
When Ettrian reached the ground, he stood on human legs again.
"He…" Druz hesitated. "He walked out of a tree."
Haarn slid again, making his way to the level land. "I haven't yet learned that spell," he replied.
Ettrian reached into his cloak and drew out a quarterstaff as he faced the skeleton. Druz had heard of magical cloaks with pockets like bags of holding, though she'd never seen one before.
She gathered herself at the end of the final slide, drew her long sword from its scabbard, and kept the scabbard in her left hand. She ran, pushing herself to match Haarn's pace.
Seeing the elf druid square off against the skeleton, Druz worried that they might arrive too late to aid Ettrian against the skeleton. She pushed herself harder, feeling muddy clumps in her hair bang against her head and shoulders, feeling the burn through her fatigued muscles, hearing the rasp of her own breath as she tried in vain to fill her lungs again. If they arrived in time, what was there to say that the skeleton wouldn't summon yet another shambler to act as its guardian?
The skeleton lashed out at Ettrian. Using the quarterstaff, the druid knocked the blows aside and returned a few of his own, succeeding in driving the skeleton back. A familiar, somber look played on the druid's face, and Druz recognized it as a look Haarn often wore.
Whirling, Ettrian dodged a blow meant to take off his head, took a quick step to the side, then rammed the quarter-staff between the skeleton's ribs and twisted violently. Bone snapped off, and the sound reached Druz's ears over the slapping noise of Haarn's feet and hers meeting the muddy ground.
When Ettrian stepped away, tearing free several of the skeleton's ribs, Druz saw the crimson flash of the ruby falling from the thing's rib cage. The elf increased the level and speed of his attacks, aiming his quarterstaff at the skeleton's head.
Druz didn't know if smashing the skeleton's skull would stop it.
Kneeling, the skeleton grabbed a fistful of mud and slung it toward the druid's face. Ettrian dodged and darted for the gem lying in the mud. Before he could reach it, the jewel blazed with unholy crimson light and a bolt of power crackled through the air. When the bolt touched Ettrian, the force lifted him from his feet and threw him backward more than two dozen paces.
"No!" The word ripped from Haarn's lips in full-throated agony.
Stumbling, obviously wracked with debilitations of its own, the skeleton reached down and picked up the jewel.
Ettrian used his quarter-staff to push himself up. His hide armor had protected him from part of the magic attack, but it was charred and torn, showing raw, red meat underneath. Spotting the horrendous burns covering the druid's flesh, Druz didn't understand how he was still conscious, much less able to move.
Balancing on his quarterstaff, Ettrian reached back into his cloak. Pulling his hand out, he flung it at the skeleton. Druz was close enough that she saw the small objects released from the druid's hand.
Despite his wounds, Ettrian had thrown with accuracy. The four small pellets all landed within the vicinity of the skeleton, and Druz was sure that at least two of them had struck the undead creature.
The four objects exploded, throwing out huge gouts of fire. The concussion blasted hot air over Druz and knocked her from her feet. She rolled to her side, her head spinning from the exertion and the lack of air as her lungs ached and burned from the acrid smoke.
Staring through the smoke, she saw Haarn pushing himself back to his feet only a few feet away. Soot stained the half-elf's face and arms, broken by splashes of yellow and orange mud.
"Silvanus' mercy," Haarn whispered, "will this dead thing not return to the grave?"
Looking through the billowing smoke, Druz stared in disbelief at the skeleton. One of its arms had been blown off by the series of explosions and one foot was missing, but still it stood on the stump and reached out again for the jewel.
"Haarn," Ettrian called, "don't let it take the jewel."
The elf hobbled toward the skeleton, a look of dark intent on his soot-stained face.
The skeleton hobbled away from him, stumbling on one good foot through the craters that had been left by the explosive spell. It folded the jewel up under its remaining arm and bared its fangs, showing spaces where even more teeth had been knocked out. As it continued moving, the skeleton's lower jaw dropped away, giving a clearer view of the fragile spine holding the cracked skull in place.
Haarn, still limping, rushed forward, his scimitar bared in his fists. Closing on the skeleton, the half-elf raised his blade and drew back to swing. Instead of slicing through the spine as he'd obviously intended, Haarn swung through open air. The jewel glowed fiercely, and the ground opened up and sucked the skeleton down. Only a small mound remained to mark the skeleton's passage.
Reversing his blade, Haarn drove it deeply into the ground. It stopped when only half the length of the blade had sunk into the mud, but Druz knew the skeleton wasn't there. Whatever magic had flared from the jewel had taken it away.
"Haarn?" the elf asked.
Looking up, his eyes looking haunted in his scorched and soot-stained face, Haarn shook his head.
"We've let it escape," the elf said. "We had our hands on it and could have prevented some of this madness, but we let it escape. There's only one place that thing would be headed."
Ettrian swayed drunkenly as he balanced on his quarterstaff. Glancing to the east, he pointed with his chin.
"It could only have been called forth by Borran Kiosk," Ettrian said, his voice growing weaker.
The name stirred more fear inside Druz. Even before the horror stories of the Taker spread over the Vilhon Reach there were stories of Borran Kiosk. The legend of the evil mohrg rang through every alehouse and tavern. When men gathered to tell stories of what might have been and what might be, Borran Kiosk's name was never far from their lips.