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HTN 5-40 A game after dinner
🕑 Added 2022-01-06 00:47:48 +0000 UTC“She's gone,” Legeis called from the doorway where he stood watch in his suit of armor.
“We can worry about this later,” Blackbast growled. “Hurry inside and tell Umtha to remain hidden until we come for her.”
Heather grumbled before climbing into the palanquin and vanishing through the door. Blackbast waited a moment, then turned of Breanne in a huff.
“Did you know anything about this?” she asked.
“Me?” Breanne remarked and shook her head. “I had no idea.”
“What are we talking about?” Frank asked.
“I was wondering that too,” Legeis added as he joined them.
“You two keep out of this,” Blackbast snapped and began to pace. “I was blind not to see this coming. It only makes sense that she would feel that way, but she reacted as if Heather had betrayed her.” She looked around the group before settling on Breanne again and asking if Quinny ever mentioned anything.
“I believe she and Heather spoke about this,” Breanne interjected. “But I don’t know what they said.”
“Hmm,” Blackbast purred as her eyes fell on Frank. Her tail twitched in irritation, but she eventually threw up her arms in frustration. “Go after her.”
“Who? Heather?” Frank asked.
“No!” Blackbast shouted. “We will deal with Heather. Go after Quinny and make sure she is safe. I do not trust our hosts. They are up to something.”
“I can go,” Legeis offered, but Blackbast shook her head and insisted it had to be Frank.
“They are keeping a secret from us,” Blackbast added. “Did any of you notice anything strange about them?”
“The woman Lydia is undead,” Breanne said. “And I am sure she knows I am as well.”
“How?” Blackbast hissed. “Why have you said nothing until now?”
“I know because undead can see the life force around a person. A living being has a very different light than an undead one. She has the light of the dead. I am sure Frank noticed it.”
“I did, but I didn’t think we could say anything,” he admitted. “It was like we were playing some kind of strange game in there.”
“It was a game,” Blackbast growled. “They are up to something, and I suppose it was wise not to tip your hand. But if she is undead, then she must realize that you know about her.”
“That is only logical,” Breanne agreed. “The other three are living, but I can’t figure out what they are.”
“The big human refers to himself as a lord of the hunt. Perhaps he is some kind ranger or hunter class,” Blackbast suggested.
“He seems more like a brawler class,” Frank suggested. “Look at his size and shape. He isn't built for long-range combat. He's like me, tough and made for up-close attacks.”
“What about the other two? Any insights?” Breanne asked.
“The bald man is a priest of some kind,” Blackbast said. “I noticed the holy symbol around his neck. It is a strange winged creature with two heads. The woman is obviously a magical class as she has a familiar.”
“That only narrows it down to fifty choices,” Breanne scoffed. “And we have no idea who this Lydia Valrossa is or what she is about.”
“Could she be a banshee-like you?” Blackbast asked.
“No,” Breanne said with certainty. “Banshee must always have an elven form. She is human, so she has to be something else.”
“She dresses like a pirate queen,” Frank suggested causing Blackbast to turn to him.
“What are you still doing here? Go after the girl before she gets herself into trouble, and be mindful of who might be watching you.”
Frank sighed and ran out of the barn as Blackbast continued to pace in irritation.
“Let's hope this is only a game, and they mean us no serious harm,” Blackbast said as she stared into the darkness. “Otherwise, we may find ourselves in the same position as that paladin.”
“Let’s hope indeed,” Breanne agreed and looked around the floor. “Where is Webster?”
“Ahhg! Did we leave the spider inside?” Blackbast growled again.
“Heather didn’t have him in her arms,” Breanne pointed out. “He must still be in the castle.”
“We are scattered while the vultures circle from above,” Blackbast growled and turned to the palanquin. “Hurry, Heather.”
“Stupid statues,” Quinny grumbled as she stormed down a long hall. “She was all upset about being forced to marry him. Now she wants him after he meets her criteria. Well, it isn't fair. I liked him the way he was.” She took a deep breath and realized that wasn’t entirely true. She had once told Heather that Frank was movie monster ugly and not her type. “But he grew on me,” she said more to herself than anyone else. “I have the right to change my mind, don’t I?”
She passed a large pair of double doors and came to a halt as curiosity got the better of her. She pushed one open to peek into a large hall reminiscent of a hunting lodge. The walls were white plaster separated by dark oaken beams. The ceiling went all the way to the peak of the rook exposing the rafters and creating a voluminous space. The walls were adorned with paintings, weapons, and animal heads with metal plates to identify them. The room was lit only by the moonlight that came in through the tall windows that ran down one side, but she didn't need light to see. There was a massive fireplace on the far wall over which hung the largest head of them all, some kind of horned lizard. A couch of red and gold that was large enough to seat twenty was arranged in a curve before the hearth. She walked into the room, coming to a central rug as she looked about in wonder.
“How funny you should come here,” came the familiar voice of Gislaw.
Quinny jumped with a start and turned to see the man standing along one wall, smiling deviously. She quickly regained her composure and let out a pfft. “I was just looking for our rooms.”
“I would be happy to show you to a room,” Gislaw replied, that smile never leaving his lips. He turned to face her and began to stroll her way. “You know, for a zombie, you're rather good-looking.”
“I wanted to be a pretty zombie,” Quinny retorted. “I’m not into the whole blood and gore thing.”
“A good choice,” he agreed. “A pity we hadn't more time to talk at dinner.”
“Is that what we were doing?” Quinny asked. “It seemed more like we were sparring with words.”
“It's all part of the game,” he replied and looked about the room as if lost in thought. “How unfortunate that such a lovely slave girl is betrothed. Is she a succubus by chance?”
“A lilithu devil,” Quinny corrected as she studied him closely. “Hannah doesn't care for the succubus. She's more of a good girl.”
“Why play a demon or devil and refuse to be bad?” he laughed and turned his gaze back to her. Quinny saw something predatory in his eyes, a hunger that said he saw a meal for the taking. He remarked that it was a shame Blackbast wasn't willing to play and that Breanne had done nothing but glare at him disapprovingly. With every comment, he drew nearer, as if absentmindedly wandering the room, but she wasn't fooled.
“Breanne has refined tastes,” Quinny said as she grew nervous about his approach. She glanced to the door to plan her escape, but he moved with sudden speed and was between her and the door in moments.
“Not thinking of leaving yet?” he said as his eyes narrowed in on her. “The night is just starting.”
Her nerves raced as he dropped all pretense of being civil. He was going to prevent her from leaving, and the hint that the night was just starting made her skin crawl.
“My friends will be here any minute,” Quinny said in a defiant voice as her fear began to show. She realized how stupid it had been to return to the house alone. These people were up to something, but she let her frustration with Heather cloud her logic. Now she was alone with a man who looked at her like a hungry dog did a rabbit. Still, despite what he thought, she was a fighter and was fully equipped. If push came to shove, she could hold her own, she hoped.
“Your friends are strange,” he said. “We invited them to dinner, but all they did was turn down our advances. You're not like them, though, are you? You said it yourself. You wanted to be a pretty zombie. I can only imagine why you wanted people to see that. I can imagine so many things.”
“Whatever your imagining isn’t going to happen!” Quinny shouted and drew her sword. “Now stop stalking me and get out of my way.”
“Good,” Gislaw said with a pleased tone. “I hate it when the prey gives up easily.”
“Quinny?” called a voice from somewhere beyond the doors.
“Frank!” Quinny yelled in return, causing Gislaw to growl as he turned about to see Frank standing in the doorway. She was never more relieved to see one of her friends and hoped the rest of them were right behind him.
“What is going on here?” Frank asked as his face set like stone, and a glare fixated on Gislaw. “Are you alright?”
“No, I’m not alright. This creep was trying to force himself on me,” Quinny replied. “He called me his prey.”
“It is a term of endearment, I assure you,” Gislaw said as if he was insulted.
Frank raised one hand and motioned for Quinny to come to him. Without hesitation, she circled Gislaw and rushed to Frank's side. The two then faced off with the grinning man, who took a comfortable stance.
“I was simply trying to entertain the lady,” Gislaw offered as his only explanation. “But you rudely interrupted our private conversation.”
Frank's hands clenched into fists at the crassness of the vile man's words. It was one thing to be a ghoul, but it was another thing entirely to be a monster, and Gislaw was a monster in his eyes. He could see that Quinny was rattled by her encounter, which only made his anger burn hotter.
“Go back to the others. Tell them we are leaving,” Frank said in a calm tone.
“What? I’m not leaving you alone with him,” Quinny argued.
“Neither of you are leaving,” Gislaw laughed and raised a hand. Behind them, the doors slammed shut, and a red light glowed over their surface.
“He’s magically sealed them,” Quinny said and turned back with her sword raised. “You are seriously asking for trouble. Frank is ten times the man you are.”
“Is that so?” Gislaw replied and rubbed at his chin. “A duel then,” he suggested and pointed to Frank. “We fight for the girl. If you win, you both go free, but if I win, she stays here with me for the week.”
“I'm not staying with you for another five minutes,” Quinny countered, but Frank put a hand on her shoulder.
“You don’t deserve the honor of a duel, and I would never risk Quinny in one,” he said firmly. “My friends and I stand together in all our challenges. You want her; you have to get through all of us.”
Gislaw threw his head back and laughed loudly as if Frank’s words had been meaningless. He seemed to be overly confident as if he already knew the outcome of this encounter. Quinny realized they had no idea what class this man was or how high a level. For all, they knew he was a level seventy-five hunter, and they were in serious trouble.
“Did you think I singled her out randomly?” he said. “A zombie might be tough, but they have weaknesses, all undead do, and I am so very skilled at hunting them.” Before either of them could react, Gislaw raised a hand, and they saw what looked like an amulet in his palm. With a command word, the amulet raced out and slammed into Quinny's chest. She glowed with a purple light and fell to her knees before toppling over.
“Frank! I can’t move!” she cried as her sword clattered to the ground.
Frank was in motion even before the sword hit the ground. He closed the gap on Gislaw with blinding speed, and the two collided like twin wrecking balls.
“I am going to tear your arms off!” Frank snarled as they locked in a titanic test of muscle.
“Ha!” Gislaw laughed as he flexed and drove Frank back an inch. “Did you forget you aren't in your armor? I can tell you're some kind of brawler class, but it looks like your weapons are claws. How effective are you without your gear?”
Frank snarled and shoved back, driving Gislaw back a step, but suddenly Gislaw intentionally fell back and used the momentum to pull Frank over. His feet came up and caught Frank in the chest as he rolled and tossed Frank to the floor behind him.
“Frank!” Quinny cried as the room shook from the impact.
“Hush girl,” Gislaw said as he got back to his feet. “Save that voice for later. I want to be the one to make you cry out.”
Frank came to his feet and was on the attack in seconds. He swung at the monster, who narrowly evaded the blow and tried to return one of his own. Frank ignored the punch but was surprised by how much it suddenly hurt. He had gotten too used to being a ghoul and even more to wearing armor. He was far more sensitive to physical damage in this form, and the blow nearly staggered him.
“Not so good a fighter after all,” Gislaw laughed as he caught Frank with another punch. “You rely too heavily on your armor.”
Frank fell along the wall and wrapped his hands around the legs of a table. Then, with great strength, he heaved it skyward and brought it down in a crash on Gislaw. The vulgar man let out a roar of frustration as the table broke apart and he was thrown to the floor. Frank was on him in a moment, his hands wrapping around the man's neck to choke the life from him.
“Good,” Gislaw mocked. “I love a vigorous fight before a conquest. It gets the blood pumping, but you should never have dared to stand between me and my prey.”
Frank went to reply but noticed a change in the man's eyes. They were suddenly yellow and full of violence. The neck under his grasp seemed to be rippling as his hands were forced apart. The face began to distort, and black fur grew over every surface of his skin. In seconds he was transformed and powerful, clawed hands wrapped around Frank's arms before ripping them free. Frank tried to back away, but the beast that stood before him wrapped a single hand around Frank's throat and lifted him from his feet with ease.
“I know a great deal about fighting with claws!” the beast roared in his face.
Frank beat on the hand with a fist as the werewolf choked him. The monster snarled before tossing him like a ragdoll to crash into the wall. He slid to the floor and crumpled over as Quinny screamed for help.
“Now, do you see?” Gislaw asked in a bestial voice that dripped with malice. “I almost wish you could put that armor back on. It might be fun to see if your claws are any match for mine.”
“Leave him alone!” Quinny cried as she struggled enough to get to her hand and knees. “Please!”
“Ha, now you beg for me,” Gislaw laughed. “You are the one responsible for this. You should have accepted my advances and told your hero you were fine and sent him away.”
“Frank is my best friend,” Quinny grunted as she struggled against the magic. “I won't let you hurt him.”
Gislaw laughed and lunged at Frank, grabbing him around the throat again and hoisting his motionless body from the floor. He shook the man in the air until he came around and then pulled him close to that canine face. He looked as if he was about to bite him but hesitated when Frank spoke.
“Wait,” Frank whispered. “I have to ask you something.”
Gislaw paused and laughed as he enjoyed the moment. Frank was helpless in his grasp, and he enjoyed knowing Quinny could see who the superior man was. Just for show, he decided to entertain Frank and give him a chance to speak. “I suppose I can give you one last request. What is it you want to know?”
“That amulet,” Frank croaked. “Do you have another one?”
Gislaw glanced at Quinny before looking back to Frank in confusion. “No, why?”
Frank smiled as his hand tightened around an object he fished from his pocket. He looked the wolf in his raging yellow eyes and uttered a single word. “Karrack.”
The change was nearly instant, and Gislaw suddenly found he could no longer hold the creature in his grasp aloft. In fact, the creature that now leered back at him stood nearly a foot taller than himself, and his yellow eyes were every bit as full of rage. The cold of the grave bled through his fur as a rubber hand wrapped around his arm and long wicked claws of black dug into his flesh.
“Kill him, Frank!” Quinny shouted as the ghoul lord faced off with the werewolf.
Gislaw roared as Frank broke his grasp and slammed into him, carrying him across the room into the far wall. The room shook, bricks cracking from the impact as paintings and animal heads fell from their places. The two lashed at one another with razor-sharp claws and terrible bites, but now in his ghoul form, Frank hardly noticed. They crashed about the room, using raw strength to shove one another about in near-constant chain of collisions.
“What was that?” Breanne asked as they heard a roar from someplace nearby. It was followed by a low rumble that lasted only a second or two.
“A battle has begun,” Blackbast snarled. “I suspect our hosts have torn off their masks.”
“Where is Heather!” Breanne snapped just as the woman appeared inside the palanquin. “There you are. What took you so long?”
“Umtha did,” Heather replied as she climbed out of the palanquin. “When I told her what was happening, she started shouting about something called the hunters and ran off.”
“She did no such thing,” Blackbast replied. “We have been here the whole time.”
“She didn’t come out here,” Heather corrected in exasperation. “She ran out the other door into the swamp lair. I have no idea where she is going.”
“What is that fool goblin up to?” Breanne asked as a crashing sound echoed in the night.
“What was that?” Heather asked.
“Frank went after Quinny, and now we are hearing the sounds of battle from the house,” Blackbast snapped. “Your friends are separated and in danger. We must hurry.”
The four ran out of the barn and into the courtyard but stopped immediately as two slender forms suddenly dropped from the sky.
“Look who it is,” Lady Dellaquin said with a pleased smile as she stroked the head of her snake. “Our guests seem to have lingered too long in the night.”
“A pity such fine company was so easy to offend,” Baron Durmont replied as he grabbed the object suspended from his neck.
“Get out of our way!” Heather shouted as another crash echoed from inside. She snapped her hand and black smoke formed into the flowered scythe. “Move aside, or I will cut you in two.”
“What an interesting weapon choice,” Lady Dellaquin remarked. “I wonder what class she is.”
“I bet she fancies herself a reaper of death,” Baron Durmont said with a tired voice. “So boring and cliché.”
“I'm a flower singer, and this is my harvesting tool,” Heather cried as she pointed the weapon at them.
“That has some originality,” Baron Durmont replied with an appreciative nod. A terrible crashing sound from someplace inside the castle caused them all to pause.
“Frank must be tearing something up,” Legeis said as he lowered his goggles.
“We need to get inside, now,” Blackbast urged and threw up one hand. The ring of light reappeared, and a moment later, she stood tall in her seductive armor. She lashed the scourge with a snap of her wrist to show their opponents she was ready to fight.
“I’m afraid you’re going nowhere,” Lady Dellaquin corrected.
“Sorry, lady, but we're in a hurry,” Legeis replied and opened fire. Rockets filled the air as the woman laughed, and they passed through her body harmlessly.
“It would appear they wish to test our mettle now,” Baron Durmont said with a laugh. He smiled as his body seemed to wither, the skin going taunt as if drying out. At the same time, it grew taller, rising up as a terrible edifice. One moment he was a frail bald man the next, he was over two meters tall with gray skin pulled tight and leathery over bungling muscles. Black smoke poured out of the body, taking a roughly humanoid shape that floated just behind the creature. A dark cord of twisting smoke ran between the shadow and the beast. The zombie raised its fists and let out a groaning roar as it rushed forward, determined to crush them.
“He's a death walker,” Breanne cried before losing an arrow into the monster. “Ignore the shadow; he can't be harmed until you shatter the body.”
The battle was on as the combatants closed the gap. Blackbast and Heather took the zombie beast head-on while Legis fired more bombs at the woman who cackled at the uselessness of his attacks.
“I can’t seem to harm her,” Legeis said to Breanne, hoping she had some insight that would help.
“Perhaps you would prefer something more your size,” she said and raised a hand. With the snap of a finger, one of the gargoyles above came to life. It dropped from the battlements and thumped to the ground with a crash before glaring at Legeis with red eyes. It was nearly as tall as his battle suit with unusually long arms like Frank's. “Kill the annoyance,” Lady Dallaquin commanded before turning away as if bored.
Heather slashed at the zombie-like creature only to find her attacks doing little if any damage. It was as if the creature was made of steel, and if it felt any pain, it certainly didn't show it. Blackbast was having more success with the electric shock of her scourge that caused the monstrosity to spasm with every hit. She darted around expertly, but the zombie was supernaturally fast and eventually caught her with a backhand that sent her flying. Heather blocked a punch with a wall of plants, but the arm tore through it a second later and nearly grabbed her by the face. She skittered back and tried to hack it off, but the beast was through the barrier in seconds.
“Not much of a combat class,” Baron Durmont said as he directed his zombie. “What good is a flower singer?”
“I happen to like the flower singer,” Heather countered and took firm hold of her scythe. “But don't forget, I am a devil as well.” With that, the scythe burst into flames, and a third eye of green opened on her forehead. There was a flash of light, and suddenly she was behind the zombie, her scythe slicing with skill. Baron Durmont cursed at her as his body was not only cut but burned. He wheeled around and began to throw punches, driving Heather back as something exploded to her left.
Legeis caused a hail of stone fragments as his bomb exploded on the side of the gargoyle. One of the beast's stone wings fell to the ground, but the body was intact. It lunged at him with claws of stone, dragging lines down the front of his armor. He punched at the creature, turning its head with the impact but hardly slowing it. The monster tangled him up with clawing hands, threatening to tear him from the cockpit. As the jaws opened wide, he stood in the seat and shoved a bomb in. The monster thrashed, unable to close its mouth before suddenly recoiling as its jaw was blown apart. The gap gave Legeis enough time to reach back and draw the large hammer he took from the ogre. With a powerful swing, he cracked the beast's chest driving him back even more.
“How unfortunate,” Lady Dellaquin said as her gargoyle began to come apart. “I suppose I will need to deal with him myself.”
“You have more important things to worry about,” Breanne said as she aimed her bow. The arrow flew true and pierced Lady Dellaquin firmly in the chest but passed right through harmlessly.
“An elven ranger. Who could have seen that coming?” she laughed and drew a thin rod from her waist. Pointing it Breanne's way, she uttered a command word, and a hail of yellow stones filled the air. Breanne smiled as her eyes went red, and her skin became white. The stones passed through her to clatter harmlessly against the far wall.
“Two can play at this game,” Breanne mocked before racing through the air to strangle the woman.
“A ghost?” the woman said in shock as Breanne closed. She stood her ground with the wand outstretched and produced a spiraling shadow that grew in size until it masked her body. Breanne stopped short of the cloud, careful not to enter the twisting mass.
“What’s the matter? Can’t see me?” Lady Dellaquin called from someplace within.
Breanne frowned and opened her mouth as a terrible wail filled the air. The woman hidden in the darkness cried out in distress, the dark cloud coming apart as she danced away with hands over her ears.
“I don’t need to be able to see you,” Breanne snarled and rushed in.
“Banshee witch!” the woman cried and quickly pointed her wand at the ground. A circle of blackness opened at her feet, and she suddenly dropped through it. A split second later, another circle opened across the yard, and she rose out of it with a hateful expression on her face. That expression deepened as a hail of shadow darts collided with her.
“Not so resistant to magic,” Breanne laughed. “Your ethereal form will do you no good against me!”
“I have killed more powerful ghosts than you!” Lady Dellanquin taunted and pointed her wand. A cone of prismatic light flashed across the courtyard, and Breanne cried out as it tore at her spectral form. With a pleased smile, she declared them even and began another spell.
Heather had to blink away from a powerful punch and arrived beside Blackbast with a pulsing heal.
“I can heal myself,” Blackbast wheezed. “That zombie hits like a freight train.”
“I wonder if I can dominate that body,” Heather said. “I have a control undead ability.”
“No,” Blackbast urged as she tensed to rush back in. “Do not reveal what you are. Limit yourself to only what Princess Hannah can do.”
“But I can put a stop to this here and now,” Heather urged as they heard a woman scream from inside the castle. “That was Quinny!”
“Go,” Blackbast urged. “Leave these fools to us. Use your teleport. Get into the castle to help Frank and Quinny.”
Heather nodded, and Blackbast darted with alarming speed, rushing into the zombie and landing a direct hit before it could respond. She heard another crash and felt torn as to who needed her help more. She could fill this courtyard with skeletons or call for her bone champion. She could make it rain bone fragments or grapple them with arms bursting from the ground. It would be so easy to turn the tide, but then her disguise would be gone, and Princess Hannah would be useless.
With gritted teeth, she ran into the fight as if she was going to join it. Unfortunately, the shadowy body that worked the zombie-like a puppet saw her coming and turned his monster on her. She raised her scythe to attack but vanished in a flash of green appearing at the doors to the castle. With one last forlorn glance at the battle, she ran inside, determined to find her friends and, more importantly, Lydia Valrossa.
Inside all seemed as it was before the chaos started. The long halls lit by magical candles seemed almost to be a refuge from the chaos outside. With scythe raised to attack, she jogged forward, listening for the battle that had been raging inside. Her efforts weren’t needed as a door just ahead of her suddenly bulged and shattered. Two wild animals caught in a terrible match of teeth and claws tumbled into the hall before her. The snarls and howls of rage sent shivers down her spine as blood splattered the walls from a dozen wounds.
“Frank!” Heather cried in alarm, but he was so focused on tearing his opponent apart that he didn't hear her.
“Hannah!” Quinny’s voice screamed from the room beyond the shattered door. “Help me!”
She paused as the urge to heal Frank burned in her soul but to do so would betray her necromancer powers. She also wondered how she would manage to lay her hands on him in the middle of such a ferocious battle. She groaned and ran for the door as soon as there was an opening searching the room until she found Quinny barely moving on the floor.
She rushed to the zombie woman and turned her over before recoiling from the terrible purple glow of the medallion.
“I can barely move,” Quinny cried. “You have to get that thing off me.”
“What is it?” Heather asked as she dared to look at the strange object. Now she could see it appeared to be two snakes entwined in a sort of figure-eight around what looked like a star.
“I don't know what it is. It drains the power of the undead or something. Gislaw used it to drop me,” Quinny said. “If Frank hadn't shown up, I would be helpless.”
Heather wasn’t paying much attention beyond the description that it drained undead power. She carefully reached out and grabbed hold of the object only to find it didn’t want to budge.
“Common! Come off, please,” Heather grunted as she put her scythe down to use both hands. Pulling with all her might, she managed to make it shift but quickly ran out of strength. “I’m sorry. I can’t get it off.” Heather wheezed as a terrible crash echoed from the hall.
“We have to get it off!” Quinny urged. “Frank needs our help.”
Heather nodded and looked at the amulet as a plan was formulated. “I am going to try something, don't be surprised if this goes terribly wrong.”
“What are you going to do?” Quinny asked in alarm as Heather wrapped a hand around the object. She closed her eyes then opened three of them, blazing with green light before vanishing in a flash. She appeared across the room a moment before there was a terrible arc of purple lightning. She cast the horrid object aside as she waived her injured hand in shock.
“You did it!” Quinny shouted in relief but found her strength returning slowly. “Oh, I still can barely move.”
Heather looked at her trembling palm to see a burn that ran up her wrist. She staggered aside and quickly cast pulsing heal, eager to be free of the stinging pain. Once her hand started to curl, she rushed back to Quinny and tried to help her up.
“I feel better, but I’m still too weak to help,” Quinny huffed as Heather helped her to her knees.
“I hate having to keep what I am a secret,” Heather growled as another idea flashed into her mind. She threw up a hand, and the air suddenly filled with golden pollen, obscuring what was happening in the room.
“What gives?” Quinny asked as she was blinded by the cloud.
“I don't want prying eyes to see what I am about to do,” Heather said and put her hands to Quinny's shoulders. Quickly she chain cast mend the dead until Quinny rose to her feet. Then with a snap of her finger, the pollen fell to the ground, clearing the air and leaving both women standing.
“Thanks,” Quinny said before reaching for her sword and rushing for the door. “What was the pollen for?”
“Just in case Lydia was watching,” Heather replied as they raced into the hall.
“Ah, right,” Quinny replied as they paused to admire the titanic battle of ghoul and werewolf raging down the hall. “Where are the others?”
“Outside battling that strange man and woman,” Heather replied and took a second to explain what was going on. Quinny nodded and went into her summons, bringing a pack of zombies up through the floor and sending them in to help Frank.
“We got this now that I can move,” Quinny said. “Go back and help the others.”
Heather nodded but paused as an image came to her mind. She realized it was coming from Webster as her jaw dropped and her hand clenched the scythe tightly.
“What is it?” Quinny asked.
“Lydia,” Heather hissed. “She is in some kind of throne room that looks like a stage from a horror movie.”
“How do you know?” Quinny asked in genuine concern.
“Webster is in there with her,” Heather replied and began to look down the hall. “Help Frank with the furball; I am going after Lydia.”
“Why not wait until we can all go?” Quinny asked as Heather tensed. It was a logical question, but Heather saw what Lydia was planning, and time was not on their side. She rushed down the hall and blinked past the savage battle to avoid the carnage. There was no time to waste, and only she could reach the danger in time. One way or another, she was going to stop the dark woman and put an end to this game.
