The Divine Source

The ground released a tremor, then became silent again.

Nicolae Dante whispered, “It comes…”

Only Katrina was close enough to understand those words and she shuddered in response, sensing the power of whatever it was the stranger was talking about.  Having the darkness of ancient magic in her psyche often allowed her to sense the approach of such threats.  She fought her way through the throng of zombies.  Their ranks had grown thicker with every passing second as the corpses continued to rise from the unholy ground.  When she was nearly within arm’s grasp of the strange man, who fought without breaking a sweat, Katrina shouted, “What is it?” 

His body capered in a dance of death that severed limbs and struck vital points on the undead creatures with every pass he made.  In his right hand, he wielded a rusty and seemingly flimsy blade, but magical fire rippled across it every time it made contact with the undead.  In his left hand, he held a small weapon with a blade-tip on each end.  Sometimes, Nicolae used a combination of close-range attacks with both weapons.  Other times, he threw the double-bladed weapon out like a boomerang and it sliced through the zombies as it arced its way around and back to the warrior’s waiting grasp.  He turned and stared piercingly at Katrina.  “It is the first of four.”

That was all he had time to say before an echoing scream erupted from the Crimson River and made the companions drop to their knees.  The zombies nearest to the river were ripped to shreds by a black shadow spreading from the lake.  Nicolae Dante remained the only figure to stand his ground as the wraith of the ancient world came forth.

A pale horse with empty eye sockets emerged from the bloody waters.  Its black teeth could be seen when it opened its mouth, releasing another fearsome cry like the one that had buckled the warriors.  Fear and despair ran rampant in their minds under the force of the cry’s magical power.  All stared at the figure atop the horse.  Cloaked in black armor, the skeleton’s hands, feet, and white skull hung free of the onyx armor guarding the rest of its bony form.  Tendrils of shadow, flowed from the armor, rippling behind the being like a billowing cloak.  The skull’s facial features appeared to be locked in an eternal, sadistic grin.  It pulled on the reigns of its steed as the creature reached the shore.  The old world daemon stopped there as it slowly turned its shadowy eye sockets upon the battle scene.

There was no doubt in the companions’ minds, but Nicolae’s soft voice carried across the field as he finished his statement.  “Death has come to claim your souls.”