Black wizards - Douglas Niles [48]
Robyn spun around and thought immediately that her senses had deserted her. The stranger was dead – she knew this, for she had checked carefully. So what was this thing lurching toward her?
The body was only ten feet away, shuffling forward with an awkward gait. The neck was still broken, for the head hung grotesquely over its shoulder. A swollen black tongue extended from its gaping mouth, and the two eyes were dull and glazed, though still open.
But the hands clutched for her eagerly, each finger like a living snake, thirsting for her blood. The thing took another step forward, and another, as she stood transfixed, too shocked even to scream.
"Run!" Newt cried. Somehow, the little dragon's warning restored her self-control and she turned and sprinted down the riverbank.
Gasping and shaking with fear, she turned to look. It came ahead slowly, shuffling awkwardly but steadily toward her. She wanted to cry out her fear, but she bit her tongue and used her mind. How could she fight this thing that was already dead?
"Run, Robyn!" cried Newt, buzzing in a tight circle around her. He darted forward to hover in the air between her and the animated corpse, wringing his forepaws in agitation.
"No, Newt'" she shouted, seeing by his concentration that he was preparing to cast a spell.
Newt's magic, although unpredictable, had saved her from bloodthirsty enemies before, but she feared it would be of little use against this nightmare.
Multicolored flames exploded from the ground in front of the shambling figure, quickly surrounding it in a ring of fire that covered the spectrum from bright red to deep purple. The corpse hesitated, but only for a moment, and Robyn knew that it would not be daunted by Newt's illusion.
The body lurched through the curtain of fire, its fingers still twitching eagerly. Robyn stumbled backward, desperately trying to think of something – anything – to stop the unnatural attack. She looked around for a stick or a rock, but the field mocked her with wildflowers.
Sprinting again, she dashed away from the thing, stopping to gasp for breath at the edge of the forest. Tireless, it marched forward.
Trying to slow her breathing, Robyn marshalled her faith in her goddess. She felt the body of the goddess under her feet. Carefully, she pulled a leaf of mistletoe from her waist. She let the leaf spiral lazily into the breeze as she chanted one of her most powerful spells.
Plants erupted from the ground around Acorn's body. Shoots of grass and thick-leafed weeds curled upward, clasping toward the undead thing.
But the plants withered and curled away as they made contact with the creature, falling to either side and opening an unobstructed path to Robyn. Once again, she turned to flee, darting underneath the low limbs of a tree behind her. In her haste, she did not duck low enough, and pain flashed through her skull as she cracked it against the heavy bough.
Dazed, she staggered against the tree, squinting through blurry eyes at the monster only ten feet away. She watched as Newt swooped into the thing's face, and she saw the dead man's hand slash through the air with stunning speed. With a low squeak, the faerie dragon flopped to the ground.
Robyn tried to run, but the encircling branches of the tree cornered her. The monster moved in, and she crouched like a cat, determined to fight to the last with her bare hands.
Suddenly a shape moved behind the creature, and Robyn heard a loud growl. The body lurched to the side, half turning, and now she saw a brown form, great teeth bared, swat the creature's outstretched arm. The limb snapped loudly and dropped to the monster's side.
Robyn watched Grunt smash the monster to its knees with a blow to the hip and then stretch it upon the ground with a vicious cut to the already broken neck. She watched as the bear seized the corpse in his