“Dargan? Dargan! Where are you?” Connor hissed as he ran between wagons two and three, the ones that formed the outer wall of their camp.

He scanned the darkness but saw nothing.

It was too dark. Connor hissed in frustration and then remembered the spellbook the Witch had given them. He hadn’t memorized any of the spells in the Grimoire of Hebspeth, but that didn’t stop him from reading the words.

The half-elf pulled out the book and flipped to the Light Spell.

Connor muttered the strange words written in the script. To his surprise, he saw the same letters flare into existence before his eyes in the night, burning a bright blue before swirling faster and faster, coalescing into a brilliant blue-white ball that illuminated his surroundings.

He jumped in surprise as he saw hhe hunched body of the dwarf on the ground, and the thing that crouched over him, trying to drag his heavy form back into the dark . . .

“Hsst!” The creature looked up and snarled in the sudden brilliance, and Connor let out an involuntary shout. The creature that was crouching over his friend wore ragged, moth-eaten scraps of clothes with a patchwork of a rusted chain shirt over their chest.

But it was their snarling head that made Connor startle. It was the emaciated, dried, and withered face that was more bone than flesh. It was a Skeleton.

“Back, fiend!” Connor gasped, leaping forward and snatching his hand ax as he did so.

Name: Skeleton Warrior

Level: 2

Size: Medium

Health: 20 / 20

Vitality: 16 / 16

Agility: 10

Charisma: 0

Intelligence: 6

Stamina: 8

Strength: 10

Wisdom: 6

Connor had the advantage, and he leaped forward to defend his friend. The Skeleton hadn’t even grabbed its rusty lump hammer yet when the half-elf leaped forward swinging his ax.

Connor attacks Skeleton Warrior with Hand Ax for 8 Health points damage. Surprise attack increases damage by 100%. Total damage: 16 Health points.

The blow connected with the creature’s skull, and terror and horror lent a desperate force to Connor’s strike. He saw the monster’s head snap backward as the Skeleton was knocked back into the shadows.

“Dargan! Dargan, can you hear me?” Connor gasped, skidding to a halt and looking down at the dwarf.

Dargan was silent beneath him, and now Connor could see that there was a patch of darker wetness on the side of his head.

“Hsst!”

With a snarl like grating bones, the Skeleton flung itself forward at Connor as the half-elf was looking at his friend. Too fast to parry . . .

Skeleton Warrior attacks Connor with Hammer for 6 Health points damage Surprise attack increases damage by 100%. Total damage: 12 Health points.

“Ach!” Connor staggered backward, his upper arm suddenly in agony from the hammer blow. He felt the Skeleton’s other hand grabbing at the throat of his tunic, pulling him close. The Skeleton’s visage was suddenly right in front of the half-elf’s face. It was horribly twisted, and one part of its head had been almost entirely caved in by his ax blow—but it was still attacking!

He saw and felt bone fingers with but a scrap of desiccated flesh on them, grabbing a hold of his neck as the Skeleton drew back his hammer for another overhead blow.

Connor struggled to break free, but the Skeleton Warrior was possessed by a preternatural strength that had nothing to do with muscle or sinew. Some eldritch force that knitted and held it together meant that it was not going to let go of the half-elf’s larynx. The bone fingers tightened.

Skeleton Warrior attacks Connor with hand causing 2 Health points damage

And then the Skeleton brought down the hammer, literally.

Connor squirmed, letting one knee go as he threw himself to one side—but at this range, the Skeleton couldn’t miss, but hit his shoulder instead.

Skeleton Warrior attacks Connor with Hammer for 6 Health points damage Hammer scores critical hit on head increasing damage by 200%. Total damage: 18 Health points.

“Argh!” Connor yelled once again, his head rocking backward pain exploded on the left side of his head, dazing him.

Before the half-elf knew what was happening, the hammer slammed into the other side of his head, nearly knocking him unconscious.

Connor felt his knees start to give out as he desperately tried to clear his head so he could fight back. Adrenaline flooded his body, bringing him back to his present, imperiled situation.

The Skeleton was pulling their hand back for another blow—one that couldn’t possibly miss at this range. Connor felt desperation fill him. His felt the hand ax was still gripped tightly in his hand, and he brought it up in a fast chop. At this range, he couldn’t miss either.

Connor attacks Skeleton Warrior with Hand Ax for 7 Health points damage. Hand Ax scores critical hit on head increasing damage by 200%. Total damage: 21 Health points.

His blow slammed into the already partially destroyed skull of the bone walker, and the Skeleton suddenly shuddered and stepped back, dropping the hammer as its arms flailed for a moment.

“Back to the grave!” Connor snarled, kicking the creature in the chest and sending it flying backward to land on the ground with a series of pops and cracks as it fell apart.

Skeleton Warrior has been killed.

You have been awarded 200 Experience Points for slaying Skeleton Warrior.

“That was too close. Too close,” Connor gasped, his ears already registering that there were other screams from the camp behind him. He knew there must be more of these fiends already attacking the refugees and actors.

He staggered to Dargan’s side, kneeling down quickly to see how bad it was.

“Dargan, Dargan, are you . . . ?” he muttered, just as there was a sudden snort and an awful groan from the dwarf below.

He wasn’t dead, but he was badly injured. Connor growled, reaching for his pouch before realizing that he didn’t have any healing potions and neither did Dargan.

But I do have the Grimoire!

Connor quickly flipped to the page for the Heal Spell.

Connor was glad for the magic, but he still didn’t like his choices. He had only ten Health points left himself, and he didn’t have the First Aid skill to measure how much Dargan had left.

On top of that, he only had twenty-eight Vitality points left.

“But what can I do?” he thought. He had to try and save Dargan’s life somehow. Although there was a natural regeneration of Health points when resting, the half-elf didn’t think that any of them would be getting much rest any time soon.

“Nothing for it,” he muttered and started reciting the words of the spell. Once again, they appeared in front of him, this time a glowing, vivid green over his hands as he held them over Dargan’s head.

The green words diffused into a gentle green glow that settled onto the dwarf’s form, who started to stir and groan.

Heal Spell restores 10 Health points at a cost of 10 Vitality points.

“Skeletons . . . Boneys . . .” Dargan sputtered and coughed.

Connor repeated the procedure on himself.

Only eight Vitality left. I’ll be fine, right? he was thinking, deciding to bet that he would probably need the ten Health more than he did the Vitality, especially since Vitality regenerated much faster.

“Ugh . . . I feel like warmed-up Goblin’s wee.” The dwarf turned over, huffing and panting.

“You look like it too,” Connor said, his chest tightening with fatigue. He felt exhausted already!

“Boneys!” The dwarf pushed himself to sitting position, and Connor noticed that although the patch of dried blood was still there, the cut was entirely healed.

“I know. I almost had my throat crushed getting rid of the one attacking you!” Connor said, steeling himself before pushing himself to his feet and offering Dargan a hand to do the same.

“We haven’t got much time,” Connor said, nodding behind them to where the screams were still ongoing. There was the clash of metals, and Connor saw figures using burning torches as cudgels.

“And I’m not sure we have the energy either,” Connor added. His health was at twenty. He could trade a few blows, perhaps, but that would be it.

“What are you saying, we run?” Dargan had retrieved his war hammer and was looking at Connor incredulously. The very idea of fleeing certain death didn’t appear to register in the dwarf’s thought process. Connor was going to remind his friend of the finer points of being stuck inside the game, but as the sounds of fighting got suddenly closer, he thought better of it.

“Look, there must be someone on these wagons who has healing potions right?” Connor said, already gesturing to lead Dargan away from the battle. “Boudazz must have some. He’s the leader!” he hissed before adding,

“And we’re still doing our job if we go rescue Boudazz himself and distribute his healing supplies.”

“Wagon one,” Dargan said, nodding across the back of the camp toward the lead wagon that they had ridden in on.

Their steps took them past wagon two and three and to the edge of where the Therion Cows were pastured. Or at least, where they should be pastured. Instead, ahead of them, they found the herd of six giant cattle on their feet, uttering deep booming sounds as they pulled at the thick ropes that ran from their nose rings to stakes on the ground.

Wham! One started stamping the ground, and Connor felt the shock wave run through the earth at his feet.

“Hells! Now I wish I’d decided to become a Druid!” the dwarf said. Both half-elf and dwarf leapt back from the creatures as they started to panic.

“Flee! Abandon camp!” the voices of the terrified actors were shouting—and Connor could well agree with the sentiment.

“We have to get the healing potions!” Connor said, pointing to a gap that had opened up between wagons and cattle. He saw the dwarf cast a worried glance at the cattle before glaring at the way ahead and making a run for it.

Wham!

They were about halfway to Boudazz’ caravan, the storm of monstrous cattle around them a symphony of thunder and terror.

Wham!

Wham!

And then, before they reached the other side—the rope holding the first Therion Cow wrenched the iron spike from the ground as the beast broke free—and the spike sliced through the air toward them.

“Down!”

Connor threw himself onto the ground in a roll as the iron spike screamed through the air where his head had been. He was suddenly very happy he’d allocated plenty of points to Agility.

The sounds of stampeding cattle were suddenly everywhere and Connor was forced to continue dodging one giant hoof after another that came crashing down all around him.

“Get up!” Dargan’s hands were on his shoulder, pulling him up and throwing him forward into the darkness behind the giant wheels of Boudazz’s lead wagon.

The Therion Cows broke and stampeded, trampling bonfires and tarpaulin tents. Connor caught a glimpse of one entire collection of barrels smashed into splinters by the beast’s anguished feet.

And then they were gone, charging much faster than Connor had ever thought they were capable of, back up the road that they had just marched down.

The ground still shook with the memory of their feet—or maybe it was their bodies that shook involuntarily—as both Connor and Dargan huddled in the dark, panting with exertion.

Until they realized how quiet it suddenly was.

“Dwarf?” Connor whispered, his voice sounding uncertain.

“I know. Where’s all the screaming and dying?” Dargan muttered. They both crept toward the wheel edge to look out at what had been left of the camp.

Well, it wasn’t much of a camp any more. One of the wagons was now on fire, and there were multiple smaller flames from trampled bonfires or cookfires greedily eating up what remained of their stores or other tents. The earth had a trampled, muddied look, churned up with water and blood.

Broken bodies were strewn around in the dark.

The bodies were not of the actors and refugees, though, but instead of skeletons, which the caravanners had successfully destroyed.

“Where is everyone else? Did they flee?” Dargan whispered.

“Must have . . .” Connor was starting to say before he noticed movement at the far side of the destruction.

There were shapes moving at the edge of the firelight, a group of people who Connor recognized as the actors and refugees. They appeared terrified—and rightfully so—but were rising to stand as other disjointed figures surrounded them.

“There’s too many!” Dargan growled.

The dwarf was right. The Skeletons had somehow surrounded a contingent of the living, fifteen or so, and had their weapons leveled against them.

“I can’t want to watch.” Connor felt sick. There had to be something they could do, he thought, but he didn’t know what. .

But strangely, it seemed as though the Skeletons weren’t interested in killing their captives. Instead, they were making hissing noises with clacking jaws and indicating that the living start marching into the dark woods while the undead warband closed ranks around them.

“They’re . . . They’re taking them prisoner,” Dargan breathed. “Why? What could the dead possibly want from the living?”

“Their lives,” Connor muttered grimly.