choose your own adventure, episode 14a

“To the church!” you say. “Quickly!”

You race down the hillside path as fast as you dare, Ulacht and Sir Thomas at your heels. The path is narrow and rocky, and you think it would be a grim joke if you tripped and fell to your death while pursuing an ancient horror of legend.

At last you reach the bottom of the hill and enter the village, and see that the situation is worse than you thought.

Sir Hamus’s keep is a tower of flame, black smoke billowing from the windows and roof. The rest of the village burns, men and women and children fleeing towards the church. The church itself looks intact, and you see a large group of militia standing before the stairs, forming a good impression of a spear wall. And they are fighting…

Your fingers tighten around Heartwarden’s hilt.

They are fighting undead.

Dozens of ragged corpses fling themselves at the defenders, their empty eyes alight with ghostly green fire. The same shade of flame, you note, that you saw around the spiderling’s fingers. In the distance you see a faint pillar of that same flame rising from the base of the hill, just outside the village.

But the fighting holds your attention. The militia look as if they are about to break beneath the undead onslaught, and you can see hundreds of terrified women and children packed into the church. Magistrius Richard stands before the church doors, flinging blasts of white flame into the undead, but there are too many of the dead things.

You bellow a battle cry, calling to God and the archangels to lend your sword arm strength, and charge into the fray, Ulacht and Sir Thomas at your side. Steel can harm these things, but Heartwarden’s blade burns with the blue light of the Well’s magic, and the weapon tears through the undead as if they are puppets made of cloth and straw. The militiamen loose and shout and stand their ground, and you see Father Linus in their midst, wielding a club with vigor. Fat old Sir Hamus stands next to him, fighting with an enormous two-handed axe, his face red with exertion.

At last the final undead falls, and the fighting is over. But not for long – you see more undead moving through the village.

And that pillar of green flame still pulses at the base of the hill.

“Sir Ridmark!” says Father Linus, lowering his club. “Thank God you have come! Another few minutes and we would have been overrun.”

“What has happened?” says Sir Thomas.

“I don’t know, sir,” says Father Linus. “Every house in the village caught fire at once. The folk fled into the streets…and then the undead starting coming from the tombs.”

“The tombs?” you say, looking at the pillar of green fire rising from the hillside.

“Aye,” says Linus. “We have long buried our dead in the caves below the hill.” He shrugged. “Easier than digging graves, and cheaper than burning the dead. Though perhaps we were foolish.”

“My wife,” says Sir Hamus, his voice a moan as he looks at the burning keep. “My wife was in there. We have to rescue Lady Gwenaelle. We must!”

“My lord knight,” says Linus, “I’m sure your wife…”

“We must save her!” says Hamus, eyes glittering, his face flushed. “Else she will perish in the flames!” He looks half-crazed, and you remember the effect Gwenaelle had on you.

If she truly is a spiderling, he will do whatever she commands.

“Better than we strike at once,” says Thomas, pointing at the green fire, “and find whatever necromancer is raising the dead.”

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