An Alarming Turn of Events

Continued from here

Edward snuffed out his camp fire and set out with Edric and Ghost close behind. As ever, snow fell over the mountains, covering the sun in a screen of light grey. Ghost padded through the snow, his eyes scanning his surroundings nervously. Edric felt no more secure than his great wolf. As he walked along, Edric flexed his aching fingers, opening and closing his hand, stretching the scarred tissue over his bones. The sun was beginning to drop in the sky, which worried Edric somewhat. Edward was making no effort to find a place to camp. However, he soon found why.

Edward took a turn into a small wood, leading Edric between snow-covered trees. The two came to a rock outcropping at the base of the mountainside. In the side of the mountain, there was a sort of structure carved into the rock. The outcropping was flanked by two square-shaped monoliths made of dark, grey stone, standing about six feet tall, and covered with old rune carvings. Set in the root of the mountain itself was a set of double doors made of bronze. The doors were somewhat maintained, but were speckled with the green of the corrosion of time. Large, gold braziers flanked the door, but had long ago ceased burning.

"Look at this, Edric. This door was hidden beneath the hills for generations, here. We patrolled these snowy hilltops for almost 20 years, and never once found any hint of these anywhere."

"Why am I looking at it, now?"

"The mountains, Snow! When these peaks were coaxed from the earth by foul sorcery, the whole land rose and this came up with it. I've found many more of these around the mountains. Some were ruined by the land moving, but many survived."

"What is it?"

"These are barrows, Snow. This is one of the burial houses of the ancient dead!"

Edward placed his hands on the two heavy doors and pushed. The bronze hinges groaned as the doors slowly swung open, scraping against stone. Behind the doors stood a tunnel lined with rows of large, clay braziers filled with glowing coals. The hall was illuminated somewhat by the dull glow, but most of the passage was dark. As Edric stepped forward, Ghost growled, and refused to enter. Edric stopped, but Edward urged him forward, and he decided to leave Ghost outside.

In so dimly lit a barrow, he took a dead torch from a sconce on the wall and lit it with his own materials. The torch soon sprung to life, and he took it up in his left hand. The walls of the barrows were covered in ancient carvings, showing images of men in odd, ritualistic poses. Some images showed a great battle. Others showed large fires, with men lying horizontally beneath the flames. Within the stone walls themselves were carved large cells, in which there were laid bodies wrapped in linen or decked out in bronze and iron armor. The bodies, though much older than several decades, had not decayed past the point of an unprotected corpse over a month or so. Edric decided they must have been embalmed before burial, and very well, at that. In many place, the upthrust of the mountains had sheared parts of the barrow wall, so some small cracks allowed external light, or even snow, to enter, and so the cool, outside air brought its chill beneath the shell of the mountain. Mostly, though, these cracks served to illuminate the ancient writings on the walls, and the many burial urns and vases, large and small, and crafted of everything from clay to the finest in bronze and gold, which flanked nearly every burial cell.

For several hours, the two men trekked deeper into the barrows, until Edward approached a gold door on iron hinges. He opened the door and entered a large burial chamber, clearly fit for an ancient king or prince of some sort. The chamber had vaulted ceilings about three to four meters high, and a footprint nearly as large as that of the great hall back at Northwatch. There were four, small ledges on the walls, set up off the floor. On each ledge, there was one skeleton in full bronze armor, with a linen tunic and a large drum strapped to its shoulders. The skeletons were chained to the walls. In the center of the room, there was a sarcophagus flanked by dead candles, and the walls were lined by four lesser-decorated tombs containing embalmed bodies in full battle dress, arms crossed over iron swords.

"Here we are, Snow. I want you to see something."

What is this, Lancaster?

"I want to show you why we cannot win unless we give in to the night."

"What is the meaning of this, Edward?"

"There is a darkness that dwells on these mountains. Even as the great blizzards have stopped, the mountains have yet to relinquish their deadliest secret. I have seen this evil, Snow. So has your uncle. He and I both fought, but I was the smart one. He is lost now, I am sure of it. I have stopped struggling. When night falls, and when the Walkers of the snow emerge, there is nothing that will stop them. Fear will grip the hearts of even the bravest of men."

"What are you saying, Lancaster!?"

"Do not be a fool, Snow. You cannot defy the will of these new Gods. Bow to them, and they will spare your soul."

A bitter, frigid wind entered the burial hall from the doorway, carrying with it the whispers of thousands of years of slumber. The large, clay braziers throughout the barrows dimmed and nearly died, while the halls trembled. Edric shivered as the foul winds swept through, and the mountain seemed to groan in anger.

"Witness the power of the mountains, Snow! Fear it, and then learn to love it!"

The tomb in the center of the hall roared as the top slid away. The corpse within rose and stood before Edric, a man dead for longer than history could remember stood by the strength of his own legs and stared at Snow with cold, dead, burning blue eyes. On his head was a crown of iron and bronze, and he wore a coat of leather under bronze laminar armor, with a falchion (single-edge hacking sword) crafted from iron with a heart and edge of low-carbon steel (like a Roman gladius). Two of the men buried to guard him in the afterlife rose to challenge Edric as well.

As the braziers had died down, Edric had to fight by the light of his torch. Longclaw already rested in his right hand, which was lucky, because it allowed him to parry a surprise right-hand strike from one of the guard corpses. Nearly blind, he was forced to retreat under the lich's relentless attack. Eventually, he brought his torch around in desperation, striking the dead man in the jaw. Sparks flew into the thing's ancient hair and beard, and, immediately, he burned. Old, dried flesh caught like birch bark, and, before long, the lich's whole upper body was blazing. The second came on with comparable ferocity, but Edric lopped off his arm. Unfazed, the creature pressed its now useless attack, but Snow managed to take off its head with the next blow.

Edric rushed forward, as if he could single-handedly thwart the event which was underway and which was quite clearly beyond his mortal power. The king of the undead stood tall and roared angrily. Another terrifyingly cold gust of wind rushed in from the direction of the entrance, snuffing out Edric's torch and chilling him to the bone. Frustrated, he cast away his torch and grasped the hilt of his sword with two hands, determined to fight this fight on night-sight alone. He watched for the shape of his large opponent rushing forward and striking. He parried high and low, left, right, left, left, high, and tried to deliver blows of his own to little success. One of his horizontal cuts bit into the bronze plating over the beast's stomach, but it seemed thoroughly unconcerned. With each parry, Edric grew more and more furious. He prayed to Din that his blade be guided true, and that he be given the power to win in this fight, but hope rapidly faded.

Suddenly, he felt a tingling in his fingers, and a renewed strength swell in his limbs. A fierce warmth surged through his arms, rushing through his palms and fingertips and coursing into Longclaw's hilt. The steel of his weapon was illuminated by a brilliant aura, as sparks flew from the blade and hilt. A blazing, orange light grew along the blade, until tongues of angry flame flashed from Longclaw''s edge. The sword blazed a furious orange as the power of fire surged through its fine steel. Only now did the undead king show what might have been fear. Now, it was Edric's turn to throw him back, and so he did fiercely. So did Edric Snow harness the power of fire and cast down his enemy and smote his fiery ruin upon the tomb of his first burial, which was now the pyre for his second funeral. Edward, furious, drew his sword and rushed toward Snow, but the younger man was fast, and several brutal cuts took chips of wood out of Edward's wooden shield and set it alight. he cast the shield away and renewed his attack with sword alone, but the heat of Edric's blade kept him at a distance. Before long, Snow disarmed him and cast him to the floor. Dismayed by his failure, Edward scrambled to his feet and took up the dead king's sword, but, instead of fighting, he fled for the door.

Edric watched his Sworn Brother fly in terror, but could only fall to his knees with fatigue, as the glow of Longclaw's blade died down. Refusing to let Edward escape, he struggled to stand and forced himself to take off in pursuit. Relying only on the ability of the human eye to discern rough shapes in near complete darkness, he hastened back through the passages of the barrows, barely noticing that all of the burial cells were vacant, and their occupants nowhere to be found. His legs ached, but he continued to run until he saw a speck of moonlight ahead, telling him he was near the mouth of the barrow. As he emerged, he found the moon was high, as it was probably in the very early morning on the sixth day of his journey. The wind was blowing more fiercely than ever now, coating the mountains in layers of frigid snow. At the entrance to the barrow, however, he was challenged by three things that appeared to be some new kind of chilfos.

Each one stood about 6 feet tall, with smooth, elegant human features. They were completely faceless, with smooth, bald heads, and were made of some mix of ice and pure darkness. They shimmered in the night, as if ill-defined, and they appeared to wear armor actually crafted from polished mirrors, reflecting and shimmering as they moved. The creatures advanced silently, giving off a horrid, brutal cold that fazed even Edric Snow. He stood firm for a moment, then broke and fled for the mountain pass from which he came. At the top of the pass into the mountains, he encountered Ghost challenging Edward Lancaster, who, against all odds, managed to flee once more. Edric struggled to track him through the heavy snows and fierce winds. Soon, he stumbled across blood stained snow, where he had earlier encountered a man who had claimed to be king of the mountains, and who was slain promptly thereafter. Alarmingly, however, there were no corpses to be found.

For days and hours innumerable, Edric struggled forward. He hastened harder than he had ever needed to in the past. With little food, minimal water, and nearly no rest, he and Ghost ventured back through the mountains. Within days, he could see the lights of Northwatch from the mountains, but elected to turn south. Instead of taking the ferry across the waters of Woodfall, he would take the road around the west shore of the lake, which was monitored by scouts of the Black Brothers at a handful of small watchtowers.

Edric stopped at these camps for one night, taking food and drink in large quantities, and slept for many hours next to a fire and wrapped in heavy furs. Before he left, he approached one of the outpost watchmen and gave him Emrys' dagger and the obsidian weapons warpped in the black fabric and told the man to send a rider to Northwatch with all haste. He was to give those materials to Sir Mallister and tell him that Edric Snow was forced to move south without delay.

He took what rations he could from the southern outposts and departed without delay. He took the road south, following all clues he had available to him as to the whereabouts of his traitorous Brother. Hyrule Castle-Town, he decided, would be too populated and too heavily guarded for Edward to find asylum. Someone would catch wind of what had happened, and we would be unable to escape. Therefore, the nearest settlement that Edward might find some shelter would have to be Lon Lon Ranch, and that is exactly where Edric would have to go.

Indeed, within two days of hard trekking, Edric found himself coming up on the outskirts of the Ranch and its surrounding hamlets. It was early in the evening when he arrived, so he elected to go to a tavern and rest for a while. Rest, though was something he might well have not been able to expect, as one of the innkeepers remarked almost immediately that a similarly clad northerner had turned up the previous day, and was still about. This, Edric decided, would be a long night.

Relerin sits alone at a table in a far corner of the tavern. A half empty bottle of Lon Lon Milk and a bag of books sit beside him. Relerin flips through the pages of a book. Necromantic Theory, the book is titled. "Hm. Interesting. Never would have thought. Maybe...no never work. What about...would need test subject. Cow? No too big. Horse? No too useful, too noticeable. Cucco? Hm. Need live one." Relerin puts the book back in his bag and pulls out his notebook. Necromancy Notes marks the cover written very neatly. He opens to a blank page and writes Cuccos at the top of the page. Relerin nods his head and finishes the bottle of milk. He had paid for the bottle so he slips the bottle in his bag before closing the bag and tying it up. Relerin puts his bag on his back, but still holds his notebook in his hand.

Relerin stands up from the table and looks around the tavern. It was after dark and the tavern was pretty full. "Hm. Rather full. Well it is after dark. This is as good a time as any." Lost in his own thoughts Relerin doesn't notice the man who just entered the tavern and Relerin runs into him. The man is just a bit taller that Relerin with dark brown, nearly black hair and beard of the same color. He wears a unmarked black wool cloak. "Oh, I'm sorry sir. I wasn't watching where I was going. Excuse me." Relerin gives a small bow and walks around the man. Relerin doesn't notice that when he bumped into the man he had dropped his notebook.

Once outside of the tavern Relerin sighs. "Again. I need to stop running into people." Relerin's eye flashes as Ba'al starts talking to him. "You also need to keep better hold of your things whelp. Or did you want that Hylian to read your necromancy notes?" Relerin's eye flashes again as he checks his robe pockets and his bag. Relerin had dropped his notebook. "Oh no." Relerin's eyes widen as he walks back into the tavern and looks around for either his notebook or the man he had run into earlier. "I hope it landed cover down and he didn't read it."

A flash of purple and gold caught Edric's eye as the younger boy stumbled into him. Edric saw it coming and braced in time, so Relerin collided with him. Snow's mail shirt chirped, almost as if in dissatisfaction with the boy. Edric's hands came up to keep the orange-haired from falling over, but he never did.

"Oh, I'm sorry, sir. I wasn't watching where I was going. Excuse me."

Edric gave half a smile and nodded.

"Hm. That's quite all right, friend."

The boy went on his way, and Edric straightened his clothes to do the same. Soon, though, he noticed an object on the floor. He reached down to pick it up and found it was a small notebook that had landed cover-down.

Oh, that young man must have dropped this when he walked into me.

He looked up to see if the boy could be seen anywhere, but it seemed he had already left. It was only when Edric turn the book around in his hands for a closer look that he spotted the cover.

Necromancy Notes? That's an interesting book to carry about, isn't it? I wonder what he has to say about this...

Thinking about the notebook, Edric could only remember the ancient, embalmed corpses in the barrows rising and taking up arms as they would in life.

Something is afoot here, and I'll be damned if he doesn't have something to do with it...

He quickly scanned through the notebook, which was mostly just full of scribblings he could scarcely make sense of, as well as some mention of cuccos. He closed the notebook and stuffed it into one of his many carrying pouches. He promptly made for the door to follow the young man outside. He soon found his quarry in the dark, apparently talking to himself.

"...Or did you want that Hylian to read your necromancy notes?"

This is a peculiar one, is he not?

Ghost approached Edric from behind, walking to stand beside his master while a couple of ranch hands nervously stepped around the large animal. The wolf glanced curiously at the young man in the dark robes, but Snow placed a hand on the top of his head and guided him away, turning away from the boy as he spun around anxiously to head back to the tavern. He walked right past Edric, muttering something about his notes.

"I hope it landed cover down and he didn't read it."

Indeed.

Edric approached from behind and threw a hand on the boy's shoulder. He gripped his robes tightly and spun the young man around, dragging him toward the door. He pulled Relerin's face close to his own.

"You certainly are full of surprises, aren't you?"

Edric opened the door and tossed the man out into the night. Closing the door behind him, Edric walked briskly to the younger man as he stumbled out from the door and grabbed him by the collar before he could fall over and carried him, heels dragging on the ground, several meters out. At the base of an old beech tree, Edric pressed the mysterious, robed boy into the dirt and pinned pinned him there, taking his dagger in his right hand. Ghost trotted up behind, almost more out of curiosity than anything else.

"You should keep better track of your personal effects, friend. You never know who you might upset!"

"You should keep better track of your personal effects, friend. You never know who you might upset!"

Relerin was pinned to the ground by the very person who he bumped into earlier. He seemed nicer then, but now he held Relerin down and threatened him with a dagger.
"I'm guessing you read my notebook, yes? And here I thought you would be the kind of person who would not want to kill me just because of the magic I use. I guess I was wrong. Go ahead. Everyone else wants to. They may reward you for killing the insane fifteen year old who has done absolutely nothing to anyone. Please go ahead. Discriminate against me just because I was cursed with this...this demon. Times like these I am sad to be counted among the Hylian race."
Relerin gets madder and madder as he speaks. He takes a few deep breaths trying to calm himself down and keep Ba'al in check. Using his breaths to cover any sounds Relerin charges up an Arcane Bolt in his hand. In case his talking doesn't work. He has his hand palm down to keep the man from noticing.

Edric pulled the younger man up so his head was out of the dirt and stared him in his mismatched eyes.

"I did not leave the north so I could satisfy a prejudice! I have no interest in rewards, much less in killing you for sport. What I am interested in is that strange book you dropped. Its contents, and what they tell me about you, will prove more valuable to me than anything anyone would pay me for your head.

"An odd chain of events has passed in the north that has put me quite on edge, so understand if I don't wish to suffer any nonsense, much less any threat you might pose, friend."

Edric put a particular emphasis on that last statement, and prodded at the air toward his victim's throat with his dagger, roughly outlining in just exactly what manner he would "not suffer" such things.

Suddenly, he looked around for a moment and paused.

I cannot discuss this here... I need a closed space. Too many eyes here... Too many ears...

He yielded some at that moment, inverting his knife in his grip and sliding back into the scabbard on his belt. He lifted his weight off of the young man some, yet continued to hold him down.

"I have that book of yours. More to the point, I assume you hold it to be of some value, such that you could not be considered willing to part with it. I have booked a room at the inn. If you should wish that this book be returned to you, speak to me there, but come alone."

Do not let him go... Don't do it...

Ignoring his own objections, Snow stood, freeing the younger man, and started back to the tavern. He checked his things, making sure nothing had fallen off of his person as he tackled the boy to the ground. Passing Ghost, he snapped his fingers without a word, and the wolf followed obediently. Edric walked briskly through the common room of the inn and silently ascended the stairs. It was only when he reached his room that he made a realization. He had asked the young man to find him, and Edric was certain he was unarmed, save his staff, but the necromancer could always try some foul magic against him.

Snow still wanted the younger man alive. There was no sense in killing him outright, so wanting a private "discussion" was logical, but he could not be sure the boy would not be so eager to reclaim his book that he would try to kill Edric in his own room.

So, Edric decided he would have to take precautions. Given the way Edric had already introduced himself, this would doubtless seem even more tactless, even excessive. Should the boy accept his proposal and find his room at the inn, Edric would have his dagger at the ready, and the door mostly closed. He would be waiting behind the door, so that as it opened, he could surprise the boy, coming from behind to grapple and, if necessary, disarm him. Of course, should the younger man be entering honestly and without arms drawn, he would surely release him promptly.

Ghost seemed to be disinterested entirely in Edric's exploits, preferring instead to lie down in the corner of the room, staring at the door.

Relerin dispels the Arcane Bolt as the man releases him. "I have that book of yours. More to the point, I assume you hold it to be of some value, such that you could not be considered willing to part with it. I have booked a room at the inn. If you should wish that this book be returned to you, speak to me there, but come alone."

The man walks back into the tavern. Relerin picks himself up and brushes himself off. "That went well. Don't want meeting, but have to get notebook. Hm. Peace offering maybe? No wouldn't work. Talking it is then." Relerin checks his bag to make sure everything is still there. Everything was there besides his notebook. Relerin closes the bag again and retrieves his staff. "Well. Let's do this."

Relerin enters the tavern once again. He looks around to make sure the man wasn't down in the main bar area. It seemed he was not. Relerin walks over to a large man behind the check in desk. "Excuse me sir. I am looking for a man who rented a room this evening. He is about...mmm...maybe five foot eight inches tall with dark brown, nearly black hair and a beard of the same color. He is wearing a black wool cloak. Could I get winch room he is in? I have some business with him."

"What business ya got wit 'im eh? Taint none o ma business. Second floor third door on yer left. Ain't you tha kid he tossed out tha door earlier?"

Relerin looks up at the man with an emotionless face. "Yes. Yes I was. Thank you good sir." Relerin makes his way up the stairs to the second floor and looks to his left. Sure enough the third door was slightly open. Relerin slowly walks over to the door thinking what he was going to say. Once he reaches the door he knocks on it a few times. The door opens a bit more, enough to where Relerin can see into the room a bit. "I am here and I am...alone." Relerin smiles at the fact he was never really alone, ever. "I'm throwing my things first so I have nothing on me." Relerin takes off his bag and throws it into the room. The bag slides to about to the middle of the floor. He does the same with his staff, winch lands right next to his bag. "Alright. I don't have anything on me. And you are right behind the door." Relerin knew the man was hiding somewhere and just guesses he was behind the door. Mainly because Relerin could not see him in the room. "I'm coming in now." Relerin slowly opens the door and steps into the room. He is ready and waiting for the man to grab him somehow. "Well?"

Edric was slightly disappointed at himself, realizing he had become predictable. Even so, he was satisfied at the lack of a threat represented by the young man entering his room, so he sheathed his dagger and simply threw the door shut very promptly after Relerin stepped in. After closing the door, he turned to the windows in the room and the candles set next to them. Any light in the room could be seen by person standing outside. Given that Edward was in the area, Snow was not willing to take any chances. He pinched the flames out with bare fingertips and did the same to two other candles on another side of the room.

Turning his attention back to the young necromancer, he removed the notebook from his pouch and tossed it on a small table next to him, though he was not willing to return it to its owner quite yet.

"You've come for this, no doubt. Perhaps... Perhaps you would like to know what provoked my aggression earlier. I am here on business of my own, as are you, I am sure. Indeed, I did not expect to find you, or anyone like you, on my travels, yet here we are. As it happens, you may be of great value to me. Whether I want you alive or dead is yet to be established.

"This book of yours," he indicated to the notes on the small table, "contains notes that I cannot understand with my expertise, but one thing that is made clear is their focus on one thing in particular: necromancy. This is, of course, the dark art of raising and manipulating the dead. More than that, your eyes are not simply discolored. I thought that at first glance, but it appears to me that your odd eye bears a mark, of some sort, and I would suppose that has something to do with this whole, unnatural business.

"Before I came here, there was an incident in the north that I will not discuss here. Because of what happened, all of this is made of great consequence to me. So, then, what do I want? I want to know who you are. I want to know your business here... If nothing more, and supposing you are not a threat, I need your help, and since you posed hardly any issue earlier, I don't suppose I should feel very threatened."

"Necromancy is so much more than just raising the dead. Necromancy deals with all different aspects of death and the life cycle. Most common healing magics could also be called necromancy. But you did not want me here to lecture you I am guessing so I will get to the point. You have no reason to feel threatened by me, I will assist you in any way I can and I am no fighter.
My name is Relerin. As you know I am a necromancer, but I am only a novice. My notebook you have there are my notes on living beings and how they react to my magics and their limits. I was going to buy a Cucco and run some tests on.
Now I have a question for you. You seem rather interested in necromancy. You showed no sign of any hostility towards me until you looked at my notes and you keep speaking of some event that happened. While I can assure you I am in no way related to this event I must ask, what has happened?
Oh wait you said you were not going to share that information. Slipped my mind. At any rate provided you don't try to kill me or pin me to the ground again I am more than willing to help. Wait I must ask, do you know anything about a being named Ba'al perhaps?"

Edric gave Relerin a look when he began to give a lecture on the technical details of what necromancy really was, but let it go when it seemed the boy took the hint. He let Relerin speak his piece from that point on, speaking again only when he was finished.

"Well, Relerin, it relieves me to know I might find... I'll not call you a friend yet, but that I can expect no trouble from you is comfort enough. My name is Edric Snow, son of Rickard Snow..."

Bastard son...

"...Of the north. My father is a wealthy landowner and a low noble. I am his eldest son with no knighthood, only a family of sword-brothers clad in black."

He felt an ache in his fingers and raised his hand, clutching his wrist and flexing his scarred fingers.

"Perhaps there is more in common between us, Relerin. We are both different from those around us... You ask... Hmm. You ask if I know Ba'al? Well, I suppose I know the name. Ba'al is some minor god of some backwater darkness... Though, he is merely a fairy-tale, is he not? The lord of some ragtag, backwater cult hiding in a hole in the ground, so the stories go, or so I hear... but nothing more."

He didn't ask to see whether you believe in fairy tales... the question had a purpose.

"Why do you ask? Is he of some importance to me... or to you, perhaps?"

Relerin speaks quietly to himself, "Should I tell? Already aroused suspicion. No choice I guess." Relerin sighs scratching his head. Loud enough for Snow to hear Relerin says, "Ba'al does indeed exist and is very important to me. He is the Archdemon of Death. You know how people say they have demons inside them? I only have one. My ability to use necromancy comes from Ba'al's former power. My soul has been bonded to Ba'al's against my will." Relerin readies himself for another attack.

Suddenly the pentagram in Relerin's eye flashes. Ba'al starts laughing. "Now whelp. I can introduce myself. I am indeed the Demon Lord Ba'al, Archdemon of Death. And my cult is completely gone. They are the reason I am stuck to this whelp of a Hylian. Worst of all is I..."

Relerin's eye flashes again. "Enough Ba'al. I can control him for the most part. He can only speak through me now. He can not control my body." Relerin once again readies to be attacked as he usually is when people find out about his 'demon'.

Edric waved a hand in reassurance.

"I have no reason to attack you for him. If he works through you, he can be no stronger than you are, not that I mean offense by that. In any case, you seem capable enough to suppress his ridiculous prattling. Although, he should note that I don't particularly appreciate being referred to as 'whelp.' Maybe he can take the time to learn some humility now that he's been bested by a mortal."

Edric had a tin bowl of water set out on a table next to the window, near which was a set out a folded cloth. He cupped his hand (cloth and leather half-gloves removed) in the water and splashed his face with the cool liquid. As cold drops dripped from his beard, he wiped his face clean with the towel.

"Does Ba'al have anything to say about what happened in the north? Perhaps he knows, perhaps he doesn't. That is yet to be seen, I suppose. Well? Can the Lord of Death not see it when death is undone in the barrows under the snow?"

"No offense taken Mr. Snow. I am just glad to see the first person that didn't threaten or try to kill me the moment Ba'al opened my mouth.
The whelp comment was to me though. He always calls me that.
As for what happened in the north, I am sorry but I have no ideas. I don't think Ba'al does either most of his powers are gone or being used by me.
I now understand why you attacked me earlier and I offer my apologies. I thought you attacked me just for being a necromancer. You did have a legitimate reason that warranted attacking me.
Now how may I be of further assistance? I may be able to tell you the type of spell used on the corpses that attacked you. I would need more information though."

Relerin asks before reaching down to the table Eric laid his notebook down on. Relerin reaches slowly in case Eric had any objections, winch Relerin hoped wasn't the case.

"I will need my notebook if I am to help you. Is it alright if I grab it?"

"Did I say they attacked me? No, but you are an intelligent boy. You see my problem. it is a problem I fear most of Hyrule may face, but I cannot be sure. Perhaps worst of all is that I know so little about the challenge that presents itself to me... and indeed, the most terrifying enemy is the unknown enemy. All I know is what my Sworn Brother told me before... or rather as he betrayed the cause of the Watch. We stand to defend the land of Hyrule where even the king would fear to draw swords. We care not that we number less than one hundred fighting men, though I would believe ours can match just as many of the king's professional swords.

"Regardless, one of the men I swore to stand beside abandoned the cause out of fear, and as an ancient tomb came to life, and those ancient dead rose to walk the Earth, he told me that to stand and fight is hopeless. He claimed the gods of the mountains were an unstoppable power, full of evil and malice. As I chased him from the tomb, I came upon tall men made of ice, or so it seemed... They moved like mirrors in the night, never quite defined shapes. They seemed in some way perfect... I have fought chilfos in the mountains, but all were large, horned, and rough creatures of bare ice. These were like chilfos, yet more elegant. Though, nothing so fair is as beautiful in truth as we like to believe. I cannot be sure, but I believe those might be my man's 'gods of the mountains,' or at least connected to them.

"My greatest fear is my lack of knowledge. I have nothing to say that I know to be a certainty. I blind man with nothing to hear, and nothing to feel. I have only my nose to follow, and everywhere is a foul scent. More than that... I could think that what happened was due to more than one single spell, but due to the will of some higher power. If that is the case... I may require all that Ba'al can offer on the art of necromancy. That is to say, for as much as he may be capable of teaching, I may need to know everything that I can know about what I might be fighting."

Edric noticed Relerin glancing at his notebook, and the boy did ask to see it, and Snow was about to comply when he heard the sounds of horses whinnying nervously outside. This was not one horse, but what seemed to be all of them. In addition, dogs were barking and geese nearby were [making goose noises].

Instead, Edric took the book back himself and stood up.

"Hold. That brother of mine, the one I pursued from the barrows up north... I was told he arrived here not two days ago. I cannot risk that, should you be accompanying me, he should find this book or you. You may be a novice, but I will take no chances with him, and I fear he may be close. Follow me if you wish. If not, stay here. I will return."

He did not wait for a reply. He only walked very briskly toward the door and descended the stairs solemnly, not knowing what to expect outside. Indeed, when he did open the door, he say, maybe thirty meters distant, a man wearing a black cloak with another covering of lamb skin.

Edward Lancaster, you should have continued your flight south...

"Follow me if you wish. If not, stay here. I will return."

"I shall wait here for your return here Mr. Snow. I am not a fighter." Relerin was sure that Edric didn't hear his reply as he was already on his way out. Relerin retrieves his staff and bag. He looks out the window to see the 'brother' that Eric had talked about.

"Hm. Not good. 'Brother' must not get notebook. Must help, but how. See how fighting goes. Maybe try that." Relerin quietly opens the window enough to shoot an Arcane Bolt should the need arise. Relerin now stands there watching the events unfold, hoping that Edric would not need to help.

Edric continued his approach. If Edward was foolish enough to be taken by surprise, that would only be for the best. He had never known Edward Lancaster to be clueless. He hadn't survived in the mountains as long as he did by wandering without watching his back. As usual, Edric flexed his right fingers, opening and closing his hand. Ghost trotted up beside him as he reached up to his shoulder, hooking his fingers about the leather wrappings on Longclaw's hilt. He drew the bastard sword from its scabbard slowly, listening to the steel sing as the sharp point of the sword came free of its sheath.

Ghost slowed as the pair approached Lancaster from behind, baring his teeth and growling. Edric, however, never broke stride. He tightened his one-handed grip on his sword, preparing for whatever Lancaster might have ready. Even so, Edric would soon find himself taken by surprise regardless.

"Edward Lancaster! Stop right there, and drop your sword! Yield, and you may be spared!"

Edward did halt, but he did not drop his sword. He did not yield. He simply turned around to face the younger man. He already held in his hand the ancient falchion taken from the crypt in the north. However, the grey iron of the weapon was covered in a coat of deep, crimson red. It seemed Edward had already brought it to bear on someone. That, Edric decided, was quite enough.

He rushed forward, going for an aggressive approach. His first blow was a cut form on high, which the king's falchion caught with its flat. As the two came together and exchanged blows and parries, Snow noticed something different. Edward's moves were slow, and almost lethargic, despite the fact that he had not yet missed a step. In fact, he seemed to move in an almost cumbersome manner.

For all that, it was Edric who made the first mistake. He brought Longclaw up to parry a blow, but his footwork missed a beat. In an instant, his balance was off. He stumbled back toward a wall, and scrambled to regain his footing, but Lancaster was on him. Motions passed in a blur, and Edric found himself pressed up against the building, with Edward's free hand groping for his throat.

His fingers were cold, like ice, and, in the light of a nearby lantern, Edric saw that his face was pale as the northern snow, with a sort of grey hue. Moreover, his eyes burned brilliant blue, just as the eyes of the dead king under the mountain. Already, his skin showed the decay of death, with the very distinct smell of a corpse days old, despite the fact that Edward walked among the living.

Relerin watches as the two started their fight. "Hm. Something odd. Other man seems...cumbersome with movements."

Relerin's eye flashes as Ba'al began to lecture, "He is whelp. That 'man' is no longer amongst the living. He has been brought back. See his movements? Whelp, pay attention. The sooner you learn..."

Relerin's eye flashes again as Relerin interrupts, "Not good." Relerin watches as Eric looses his footing and gets pinned against the wall of a building. "Mr. Snow has notebook...must help." Relerin starts chanting, summoning an Arcane Bolt in his palm. Relerin sticks his arm out the window and lines up the shot.

Relerin releases the Bolt. It flies towards the undead man hitting it square in the side of the head. The force knocked the undead sideways, small arcs of lightning coursing through the thing's head from the Bolt. "Boom...head shot." Relerin smiles a bit.

Edric was about to bring his sword to bear to try and strike a blow to the dead man's arm. Suddenly, though, a flash of light and a burst of sparks announced the impact of Relerin's arcane bolt. Edward's wight released Snow and toppled to the ground, magic bolts arcing from his body into the ground around him. This gave Edric a chance to regain his stance and move into the open while the wight stood back up.

Ghost, alarmingly, refused to approach the dead man. He merely stood back, growling,, clearly wanting to help his master, but too frightened to intervene.

Edric lacked the time to worry about his great wolf, though. He barely had the time to acknowledge Relerin for his contribution, though he did with a curt nod toward the window from which the necromancer loosed his shot. The wight was back on his feet, advancing with a blank, dead stare. He really was a gruesome sight, Edric noted. The once human face had lost all color, and the pale tone had given way to a greyish hue, accompanied by a yellowish decay. His face was thin, with stretched, drying skin and hollow eyes. Already, a hole had opened in his flesh where decay had eaten into his left cheek, from which a mix of various fluids and pus trickled. It was one thing to fight a determined or intimidating-looking man. To fight a man already several days dead was indeed a thing unsettling.

As ever, his eyes burned a furious blue... they burned with life. That was what truly terrified the young swordsman. Dead things should be dead, and yet, this dead thing had just swung its sword toward his head. He would have joined Lancaster among the dead had he not put Longclaw in the way. Snow retreated a few paces, checking a handful of blows by his opponent in the process.

That bolt struck him in the head... He rose without any indication of an injury. What kills him?

Certainly, having his blows deflected wouldn't kill him, so Edric went on the offensive. He circled around the wight and made cuts of his own, and the two returned to their pattern of trading cuts and parries.

How does one go about killing the dead...?

He thought back to the brief battle in the crypt up north, and remembered how he had cut into his foes and they had continued fighting.

They do not die... but they are cut to pieces. That may be enough if I cut the right pieces.

He then remembered how he had managed to summon up fire from the very steel of his sword's edge. Bare steel could slice into dead flesh, but fire burned it angrily, as if the living dead were made of oil.

Steel and fire... How can I muster flame?

Regarding things growing about the blade of a sword, Edric noticed that the dead king's falchion had an angry, red aura about its edge. The aura seemed to wax and wane, but gradually grew in intensity. It did not seem to affect the sword in any way, but it took Edric aback. There was nothing friendly about that red sword...

Whatever that weapon is... it lives by no power Edward Lancaster had in his veins. There is something more to this... I must not...

Another high strike was deflected, and he delivered one his own.

Cannot let him continue--

Then another, mid-left side...

--This madness. It was beyond his control.

Edric delivered a thrust between two of the plates in the wight's coat-of-plates. The point was buried in his gut, through the leather jack and the quilted gambeson beneath. Longclaw drew very little blood, not that there was much to draw, but what came forth was thick, and brown, like molasses gone wrong. After the thrust, Edric noticed another cut in Lancaster's jack*-of-plates. This was on his left flank, and went deep into the chest, under the arm. It seemed to be a direct blow with a sword coming in from the side, nearly in line with the ribs. The coat-of-plates was entirely cut through. The blade that made the cut even bit straight through some of the steel plates under the leather, which was, of course, quite an impressive feat, especially since it looked as though the blow was a single cut, not multiple strikes that broke the steel. The jack was caked with clotted blood, covering the armor in a crusty, red stream hardened from the wound, running down to Edward's belt and thighs.

He was afforded only an instant to inspect the wound before the wight swung for his head. Unable to free Longclaw in time for a meaningful parry, he ducked low. Moving swiftly, he put his foot to the wight's midsection and pushed hard. His sword came free, and the monster fell back, still without showing any signs of tiring or weakening. Snow quickly motioned to Relerin to come down with all haste.

Let's see, boy, if you can call up fire...

* Jack is simply a medieval term for "jacket," or "coat." Along those lines, a jack-of-plates is the same as a coat-of-plates, which is a form of armor which was made of leather and quilted fabric with steel plates stitched to the inside of the coat. Brigandine is the same thing, though brigandine typically used a larger number of smaller plates.

Relerin cheers to himself as Edric takes advantage of Relerin's Arcane Bolt. Relerin's cheering quickly turns into shock. "Hm. Headshot not effective. Need use Light spells or...fire." Relerin doesn't even need to see Edric motion for him before he bolts out of the room and down the stairs as fast as he can run.

As he ran through the main room of the tavern he saw that everyone was looking at the fight out of the windows. The man who was behind the counter stood by the door as Relerin ran up to it. "Sorry kid. Tain't no one gettin' out throu' me. Besides not much a kid like you could do anyways."

Relerin looks at the man for a second before replying, "If you don't let me out there sir that man is as good as dead. Please let me through." Relerin knows he is running out of time as he looks around for another way out.

"I said there ain't nothin' you can do kid. Stay in here." Relerin sees enough room at a nearby window for him to get to it. Relerin nods at the man and slowly walks away. Relerin walks a decent distance away from the window and starts sprinting towards it.

Relerin dodges people before jumping through the window and tumbling on the grass outside. Shards of glass littered the ground as Relerin rolls back up to his feet, glass digging lightly into his exposed skin of his hands. A few drops of blood come out of his hand. Relerin licks the blood off of his hand, and then sprints towards Edric and the undead man.

As he nears the two fighters Relerin starts chanting causing purple flames to form in his left hand. As the two were exchanging blows as Relerin latches onto the undead man's neck. Relerin's chanting became loud enough for Eric to hear. "...Quasmear nealpa tocha aburi denokus!" The purple flames around Relerin's hand explode launching the undead man backwards slamming it into the side of another building. The blast only sends Relerin scooting back a little. Relerin readies another Arcane Bolt from the jewel of his staff in case the undead charges again.

Lancaster surged backward into the nearest wall, collapsing to the ground with a metallic jingle. Flames of blue and violet caught on his garments and rotten flesh, engulfing his face and shoulders within moments. Edric regrouped and held Longclaw at the ready, waiting to see whether the man would try and rise. He did not. Instead, his remains began to crackle and pop as his decaying mass fed the flames like a pool of crude oil. Blue and violet were joined by the angry red and orange of the flames of everyday life, creating a veritable spectrum of flames surrounding the corpse of the once respected knight.

Edric relaxed, replaced Longclaw in its sheath, and turned to Relerin.

"This, I fear, may be the beginning of something much larger... and more terrifying. Brothers disappear in the mountains... and now the dead take up arms and walk the Earth."

He stepped forward to the discarded falchion Edward had left lying in the dirt. Its dark iron blade had an ominous look, as though the ancient thing had accumulated all the dark memories and anger of the passing ages. He took the sword up and wrapped it in a thick, cloth bundle before strapping it to his lower back.

"Perhaps this may give me some answers..."

Given the recent commotion, a crowd of ranch hands, visitors, and local villagers was gathering to see the mysterious, young pair and the burning corpse on the ground. Unsurprisingly, they had also caught the attention of a trio of armed Hylian soldiers, who shouldered through the thickening crowd, clad in steel mail and carrying shields and spears. The captain of the local guard stepped forward and challenged the pair of young men.

"You two, what is going on here? We've heard talk of necromancy and ghouls walking about." He looked the two over quickly, but upon scanning Relerin's intricate robes and odd eye, immediately became hostile.

"Arrest this one," he commanded, gesturing toward the younger man, "he is the necromancer! You there, I have to commend you for stopping him from causing further trouble."

Edric looked surprised for a moment. What was this? Hadn't these fools seen Relerin deliver the finishing blow? He flexed his hand, opening and closing scarred fingers. Two guards moved in to seize the young man, but Edric would have none of it.

"Stay your hand! You will not touch him!"

The guard captain looked bemused, "Would you dare obstruct the king's justice, little one? Stand aside."

"This man is bound to me. I will not."

"Do not waste my time, boy. Seize that one!"

As the other guards advanced once again, Edric freed Longclaw once again. Ghost prepared to pounce, tensing his muscles with a deep growl bubbling up in his throat. The wolf's lips curled back to show rows of sharp, dagger-like teeth. The captain readied his spear and glared at Edric.

"This boy has practiced black magic and endangered the safety of the Hylian people! Stand aside!"

"You will call your men back and leave this man to go free, or I will let my wolf tear you all apart."

"I don't take orders from boys like you. Sheath your sword or I will kill you."

"I should like to see you match steel with naked steel. I am young, but truth is with me, and the gods shall guide my hand rightly should we come to blows. Let this man go or I will cut you down."

The air was tense for several moments. Neither Edric nor the guard captain moved an inch, until the soldiers backed down, and the captain relaxed his grip on his spear.

"Let them go for now. I do not know you, boy, but if I ever see your face again, I will make you regret this."

"My name is Edric Snow," he said proudly and triumphantly, sheathing Longclaw, "son of Rickard Snow, and I do not fear you."

Another moment, and the guards retreated into the crowds, leaving Edric and Relerin in peace.

Relerin dispels the Arcane Bolt and watches in wonder as the undead bursts into flames. "Interesting. I have never seen this before. Ba'al?" Relerin rolls his eyes up for a few moments. "Hm. I believe so. No. It's on fire of course not! No I will not..."

Relerin is cut off by the three guards threatening to arrest him. "I what?! I did no such thing! Did you not see me help Mr. Snow here take the undead down?" None of the Guards were paying Relerin any attention with Edric and his wolf ready to fight them. Things really got interesting as two guards walk closer to grab Relerin. Relerin laughed a bit at the Guard's fear of Edric's wolf.

"And my mother Lieutenant Summer will be hearing of this!" Relerin shouts as the Guards merge back into the crowd. Relerin smiles a bit to himself triumphantly before turning to Edric. "Thank you Mr. Snow." Relerin bows. "Although my mother would not have let me stay in jail long I thank you for scaring those Guards away. Most other people would have let them take me without second thought. Now to figure out where the undead came from."

Relerin turns back to the flaming undead and digs in his pocket for the notebook that isn't there. "Mr. Snow. Might I ask for my notebook back. I need to take a few notes of the body here. Might I also ask to see the weapon he was using? It may help in my research of your problem." Relerin says not taking his eyes off the body. While he looks at the body the pentagram in his eye glows brighter than normal. Relerin cocks his head to the side closely inspecting every detail he can of the body. "Very...powerful..."