Jean Rabe - Red Magic

In a short time, the Harpers decided it was time for them to rest, too. They discussed who should take first watch; neither Harper felt comfortable about leaving the small group unprotected. In the end, Galvin decided he would stay awake. But as the centaur chose a spot to sleep, his keen nostrils picked up a disturbing, almost imperceptible smell, reminiscent of something from his childhood. The breeze was carrying the scent of rotting flesh into the clearing. Finally, with a jolt, he recognized the smell.

"Galvin! Undead!" Wynter called, alerting the druid and waking Brenna and Elwin.

The druid's eyes peered into the darkness, searching. He smelled them first, then saw their decaying bodies coming ever nearer. At first glance, the figures appeared human, and in life they might have been. But now their flesh was gray and decomposing, and it clung to their bones like tattered sails on a mast. Their hair appeared wirey, tangled, and bug-ridden, and their deep-socketed eyes, seemingly devoid of intelligence, bore straight ahead into the clearing. They were moving in through the trees, slowly making their way past the tangled branches.

"They've surrounded us!" the druid called. He cursed himself for not hearing their approach. How could he have been so careless? The undead were halfway through the brambles and would be on the group in moments. In the darkness, Galvin couldn't be certain how many there were, but he guessed there were at least a dozen. Grimly he drew his scimitar.

Out of the corner of his eye, Galvin saw the centaur move toward the shambling corpses on the other side of the clearing, his staff thrust out in front of him as if to keep them at bay. Brenna was rising and reaching into her small bag, no doubt planning to use some magic on them. He hoped it would work.

"Elwin, wake up!" the sorceress ordered as she continued searching through her bag. Her hands shook terribly. Brenna had heard and read about the undead, but she had never expected to meet any of them. She glanced over her trembling shoulder. The petrified slaver was awake and was pulling two daggers from the strap around his chest, crouching to meet the charge of the undead.

The creatures stumbled through the trees and bushes, the pale, rotting flesh on their bones catching and clinging to the branches. The stench from the walking cadavers was overpowering and made the Harpers and Brenna dizzy.

Most of the corpses' hands were intact; their fingers were bony and ended in long, filthy nails that curved in toward their palms like claws. Their eyes glowed a hellish, dull yellow-orange.

The first undead broke into the clearing and lunged at Wynter, its long arms flailing to scratch the centaur's body. Its mouth opened and a thin, snakelike tongue darted out and uncoiled in the air. The centaur cringed. Ghouls! he thought, staring at the tongue used for sucking marrow out of bones. To be killed by a ghoul meant to become one of their kind-provided the ghoul pack wasn't hungry and didn't eat you first.

Wynter shouted out to his companions what they were facing and thrust forward with his staff to keep the loathsome creature from touching him. The long, carved staff lodged itself in the caved-in chest of the corpse, making a sickening crunching sound as it splintered brittle ribs. Already dead, the ghoul wasn't to be stopped this easily. With both hands, it grasped the wood and began to pull itself up the staff, hand over hand, unmindful of the wood that pierced through its body and emerged out its back.

In response, Wynter heaved with his great strength, lifting the staff and the ghoul along with it. He swung the staff to the right, slamming the suspended ghoul into another of its foul companions just emerging from the trees. Their bodies collided with a horrifying thud that left both creatures lying stunned on the ground. Continuing his attack, the centaur pulled the staff closer to him, stepped on the attached ghoul, and wrested his weapon free. Then he proceeded to trample the two on the ground, turning them into a mass of broken, splintered bones and tattered flesh.

Ghouls had broken into the clearing all around them now, presenting Elwin, Brenna, and Galvin with their own battles.

The druid reacted quickly, slicing forward with his scimitar and cutting one creature nearly in half at the waist. The vile corpse continued to press onward despite the difficulty of staying on its feet while trying to keep its torso from toppling off to the side. As it lurched forward awkwardly, Galvin swung again, this time cleaving off an arm and further unbalancing the thing. It fell forward, squirming on the ground, but another quickly stepped in to take its place.

"Don't let them touch you!" Galvin called to Brenna. "Their touch can paralyze you!"

Although the sorceress didn't have any idea how powerful the undead creatures were, she had no intention of letting these walking corpses get anywhere near her. She backed herself into the center of the small clearing, almost bumping into the druid, who was now fighting two of the things. Placing a pinch of powder in her sweaty palm, she slapped her other hand on top of it, rubbed furiously, and waited for a trio of ghouls to come closer.

When they were so near the odor almost caused her to vomit, she extended her arms, her hands outstretched and fingers spread wide, her thumbs touching. In the next instant, her hands burst into fire. The blazing flare lapped across her fingers and reached out several feet, causing the ghouls' flesh and raggedy strips of cloth to burst into flames. She watched with revulsion as three ghouls flapped their arms in an attempt to put out the fire. For once, she was glad of the dampness in the clearing; there was little danger of the trees catching fire and placing the travelers in further danger. The magical flame burned hot and quickly, leaving behind a trio of charred, unmoving skeletons.

Elwin wasn't faring as well as the others. The self-made slaver was frightened so badly that the jabs he was making with his daggers were shaky and clumsy. Eventually, after repeated attempts, one of his twin daggers sunk into the chest of one of the cadavers, but the blade did little harm. He pulled it free and leapt to the side to choose another target.

Elwin crouched again, bringing one dagger upward and forward into the abdomen of a large ghoul that was missing its right arm from the elbow down. One-more thrust and it would fall, he thought, holding his breath to cut the stench.

A second ghoul moved in silently from the slaver's side, catching Elwin's head in both hands. The ghoul raked its nails across Elwin's scalp, ripping a piece of skin loose from the man's bald skull. The slaver screamed and dropped his daggers as he tried to push his new attacker away, but the ghoul only ambled closer. Pressing up against Elwin and lifting him by his head, the undead creature snapped his thick neck. The ghoul took a bite out of Elwin's cheek, cast him to the ground, then fell upon his body, tearing off chunks of flesh with its filthy nails. Anchoring its feet against Elwin's chest and grasping the slaver's right leg, it pulled until the leg came free. Another ghoul stopped to feast on Elwin, but the two behind it continued to move forward, bent on the living targets.

Wynter had lost count of the number of ghouls he had killed by the time he was able to pull back and help Galvin and Brenna. The druid appeared to be faced with the most desperate struggle. He was standing on one ghoul, which appeared to be finally dead, while holding off another three with his scimitar. The two that had passed by Elwin were eyeing Brenna but keeping their distance, obviously concerned about her magic. Wynter started toward the druid.

Galvin kicked at a ghoul in the middle, sending it sprawling, then swung his scimitar in a vicious downward stroke at the one to his right. The weapon cut through the corpse's shoulder blades and lodged halfway down in its chest. The ghoul seemed to grin as it reached forward and clawed the druid's exposed arm. Galvin immediately felt sluggish, his arms and legs heavy. He felt the talons of his other attacker rake his left arm as he became rooted to the spot.