Jousting without a Horse

Storm clouds swirled overhead, thick with rain and thunder. The sun had since set, leaving their haphazard party in the darkness, broken only by random flashes of lightning cutting across the sky. The smell of mud rose desperately against the droplets constantly pushing it back down. It was cold, and Yew was immensely grateful for the warm wool of her cloak. It would definitely need a thorough washing tomorrow.

She passed the time watching some of the others as best she could through the darkness. There were eight of them, including her, that had elected to take this quest. A mix of men and women that just slightly favored men, which was unsurprising in the adventuring profession. Better yet, they seemed to have a good mix of fighters and support specialists. Yew slightly regretted missing the introductions portion of the meeting; as it was she could only guess what skills each of them had. Except for the three members that she recognized superficially from past team-ups, the rest were a mystery.

In her defense, she could do jobs like this solo, and had, so relying on others had never been critical for her. But, if she’s working with them anyway, she may as well try to foster some synergy. She had already coordinated with the two mages she picked out to cast light spells for visibility when they sprung their trap. For the fighters she had quietly checked their weapons for the correct enchantments or materials to battle undead opponents. All preparations complete, there was nothing left but to wait.

She submerged herself in thoughts of ancient magic and runic spell evolutions, tracing the shapes in her mind one line at a time. She made it about halfway through the sixty-five evolutions of a minor fire spell before the scout signaled the approach of the death knight. Yew shifted slightly to stretch her muscles back into cooperation, the fight would demand her utmost mobility. A minute later, almost to the second, the sound of hooves pounding into the soaked ground carried through the muffle of the storm. Then the warped appearance of the undead mount and its rider trotted steadily into view, despite the veil of rain and night.

A fearsome cascade of lightning illuminated the pair long enough to burn their image into Yew’s mind. A russet colored horse, tall and narrow for a knight’s steed, missing a sizable portion of the flesh that should have covered its head; the whole maw of its teeth visible and eyes replaced by the haunted glow of necromantic magic. Riding atop in disciplined form, the death knight, still wearing most of whatever armor she had before and sword strapped to her back; like many recently raised undead, her skin was still mostly present although dried into a clinging husk. In better light, an onlooker would observe tears in that tightened skin along the mouth and jaw where the death knight had torn it open to speak. Dark matted hair whipped in the wind behind her, her own eyes held the same piercing glow of un-death. For a single moment it was a striking vision, a cruel parallel of the righteous person she must have been while alive.

Absently, Yew noted the lack of a trailing army. If she attacked anywhere along the way there were no obvious signs.

Five combatants stepped out to meet her, Yew standing on the right-side end, away from where the knight would draw her blade first. The two support mages tossed up lights, revealing their ambush.

The horse reared back, startled and enraged by having its path blocked. The knight seemed to grip the reins tighter, considering, and swiftly decided to barrel through them. She drew the gleaming blade from her back, its beautiful shine contrasting with the decaying skeletal hand grasping it, and held it loosely at her side. She urged her mount into a full gallop and charged at them, undaunted.

Yew angled her staff, preparing to swing it at the horse’s legs and fell it. The other adventurers lifted their own weapons, ready to unleash their own opening moves. The big guy with his big special sword remained foolishly in the exact middle, bracing to take the horse’s assault head on with his broadsword pressed flat against his left hand like he intended to use it as a shield. Yew could feel the thrum of magic in the air as the mages began their respective followup spells; she had faith in her teammates. They would take care of this quickly and be home before dawn. Then she could collect a nice paycheck for her services; her expression livening at the thought.

Except, plans have a way of unraveling into back-firing snares.

The road was too narrow and slippery. Their positions too close for never having fought together before. The spear-woman next to Yew also had it out for the horse, and her targeted jab got tangled together with Yew’s sweeping hook. The end result was a glancing blow along the horse’s flank which would have downed a living animal, but only opened up a rather gruesome window across its ribs, exposing the useless organs inside. As is, the horse reared up again to press more of its weight into sir blockade anyway, thwarting her original target point.

Naturally, in the collision between one big man and a several hundred pound undead horse, the horse won. It knocked him soundly to his back, sparing his life only because its goal was to run beyond them. On the other side, the smaller swordsman and the rogue she had initially thought was a scout had their own unsuccessful clashes. To be precise, the swordsman got one strike in, which was easily blocked by the inherent advantage of being on horseback; and the rogue threw some daggers which would have landed devastating blows, but did not on account of the knight and horse already being dead. The mages were marginally better, since their respective attacks would have done more than spread gore around, but the three separate shots either landed short or arced too wide; they kicked up mud and possibly destroyed a landmark, though, which is overall more than the band of five managed.

Frankly, it was the most embarrassed Yew had been since she progressed far enough in skill to confidently fight alone. She watched the death knight race off into the night, barely inhibited by their actions. She had brushed their efforts off as if they were falling leaves landing gracelessly around her. Yew spared a short glance for the winded man on the ground, but save for a dent to his chest-plate, only his ego was truly damaged. Yew contemplated having less faith in others going forward, but it wasn’t really anyone’s fault. Soggy isn’t anyone’s best condition to fight in, except maybe a giant frog, however none of them were giant frogs so it was a moot point.

Thinking over the map of the area in her head, the next best spot to intercept the death knight, assuming her destination wasn’t somewhere before it, was the old growth forest. Luckily, they could teleport, so it didn’t matter that the knight was shrinking on the horizon. She hadn’t spared them a backwards glance, eyes locked on some yet unseen goal. Yew absentmindedly sent off a request for transport, wondering seriously for the first time about where the knight was headed.

That direction held the forest, Yew’s college and attached city, maybe a few other small places, but nothing major besides. Most notably, no places a death knight would be naturally attracted to unless you counted the city’s graveyards; except, well-tended graveyards aren’t exactly strongholds for undead gatherings, compared to magically potent and mostly abandoned ruins. In fact, the knight had passed up one of the more popular ruins for undead infestations on her way. So if not gathering soldiers or power, what exactly was she doing?

An agenda foretold trouble on the horizon. The more a death knight remembered, the more dangerous they could be; skills un-muddled by the process of dying and coming back. It suggested that the knight had gone directly from living to being an undead. That kind of transformation required far greater power than passively raising up a corpse; it would require a covenant.

Yew could feel a picture stitching itself together in her mind, weaving tenuous patterns with threads she had just barely grasped before they were tugged off into an unnavigable void. Still, whatever she needed to complete the image was frustratingly out of reach. The shape of it taunted her, hazy and amorphous as smoke.