Pathfinder Author Chat Next Monday!

Thursday, September 21st, 2011

Hey there, fiction fans! This coming Monday, September 26th, Pathfinder Tales author Dave Gross has set up an awesome Pathfinder Tales round table discussion in the Paizo chat room. Starting at 6:00pm PST, this is your chance to catch all of the current Pathfinder Tales novelists in one place, to offer your opinions and ask your burning questions (such as the all-important “Who would win, Elyana or Ellasif?”). The floor will be entirely open, and your questions will determine what we talk about, so drop by http://chat.dmtools.org/ on Monday night to chat with Dave Gross (Prince of Wolves, Master of Devils, Winter Witch), Elaine Cunningham (Winter Witch), Howard Andrew Jones (Plague of Shadows), Robin D. Laws (The Worldwound Gambit), and yours truly (Death’s Heretic, Fiction Editor). (Once you get there, be sure to type /join PFTales to enter the side room hosting the discussion.) It’s guaranteed to be a riotous, educational, and undeniably literary affair.

I’ll be there—will you?

James Sutter
Fiction Editor

Four Musketeers

Sat, Aug 6, 2011 at 05:43 AM Pacific

Howard Andrew Jones, Dave Gross, Wolfgang Baur, and Pierce Watters commandeer the authors area of the Paizo booth.

Sean K Reynolds
Developer

Illustration by Kekai Kotaki

Pathfinder Fiction News and Podcast!

Thursday, May 26, 2011

It's always a good day when we get to announce the next Pathfinder Tales novel, but today is especially important for me, as today I get to announce the November release of Death's Heretic, the new Pathfinder Tales novel by—well, me!

Death's Heretic is the story of Salim Ghadafar, a desert warrior forced against his will to work as an agent of Pharasma. When a powerful merchant in Thuvia is assassinated on the eve of receiving the sun orchid elixir, an elixir capable of reversing aging, few people are surprised—after all, immortality is a risky business. Yet when the merchant's soul goes missing from Pharasma's Boneyard and a mysterious note offers to ransom the man's spirit back to his family in exchange for the elixir, it's time for the church of the death goddess to step in and find out who would dare steal from the Lady of Graves herself. With his unique skill set, Salim should be perfectly suited to the mission. There's only one problem: The investigation is being financed by the murdered aristocrat's daughter. And she wants to go with him.

Illustration by Lucas Graciano

Along with his uninvited passenger, Salim must unravel a web of intrigue that will lead them far from the blistering sands of Thuvia on a grand tour of the Outer Planes, where devils and angels rub shoulders with fey lords and mechanical men, and nothing is as it seems...

This book has been a long time in coming, and I'm obviously pretty excited to finally be able to talk about it. Yet rather than ramble on the blog (there'll be time for that closer to the release date), I'd like to direct you over to the brand new, all-Pathfinder-Tales episode of the Atomic Array podcast! In addition to talking with me about Death's Heretic and the line as a whole, Ed and Rone also interview Pathfinder Tales authors Dave Gross, Robin D. Laws, and Howard Andrew Jones. It's nearly two-hours of hard-hitting fiction questions and anecdotes regarding Pathfinder Tales, so check it out, and feel free to ask your own questions in the comments thread below!

Last but not least, we've also unveiled the final cover art for Master of Devils and Death's Heretic, painted by Lucas Graciano and Kekai Kotaki, respectively. That's all from the Pathfinder Tales front for now, but stay tuned next week for the beginning of an all-new story from Robin D. Laws as part of our free weekly web fiction!

James Sutter
Fiction Editor

The Walkers from the Crypt

by Howard Andrew Jones

Chapter Four: The Pendant

Prince Dolandryn explained that in life he'd known only a handful of spells, for he had bent his concentration upon necromantic studies to the exclusion of almost all other magics. Yet he had learned one or two useful tricks, and upon Elyana and Arcil he placed a dweomer that hid their pulse and gave them a semblance of... Elyana was not sure how to describe it, for she saw nothing different in Arcil's appearance once the spell had been cast, but she certainly perceived it upon both of them when she looked down at her hands.

"You will no longer seem alive to the dead you encounter," the spirit told them. "But you do not have long. You must move quickly."

And so they did. They left Mirelle on the steps near the horses, neither of them offering suggestions as to what she should do if they failed in their mission. The girl would have no good options left her.

Elyana and Arcil hurried through the streets toward the city outskirts. Here they finally saw more of the moving dead, and sign that at least some of the Galtans lived, for scores of the animated corpses had gathered around a square redoubt that looked like a watchtower. Lights burned at its heights; figures in Galtan liberty caps were silhouetted in the vacant windows of the place. By that light Elyana recognized men in Galtan uniforms gathered in the ranks of dead about the tower and knew that many of those who'd tracked them to this place must already have fallen.

"How are we going to get through there?" Elyana asked.

"I don't think we'll have to do so," Arcil told her, breathing a little heavily. He pointed out into the darkness. "As far as I can tell, the pendant is that way."

"Lead on, then. How much longer do you think we have?"

"Probably not long enough," he said, and was so startled by her abrupt laugh that his grin was rather charming. She slapped his back.

"Onward then, Arcil."

They did not have much farther to go. Out there in the darkness they saw another light, near a copse of trees. A group of dead men ringed the light, and their shadows were etched upon the surface of the earth before they stretched into the surrounding darkness. From within this ring came the distinct chuk of shovels thrust into the soil, the grunt of men at work, and the sound of earth being cast from the tools. Elyana perceived then that inside the ring of corpses were a handful of Galtan soldiers, along with another figure that was quietly cursing them to quicken their efforts.

It looked as though Elyana and Arcil were not the only ones protected by some kind of shielding enchantment.

Elyana decided then that things could quickly be made much simpler with a few easy steps, and so she darted behind a bush and slipped her bow from her back. Arcil went with her, smiling as she bent the bow and slid the string into place around the nock.

"A well-placed arrow, eh?"

"Or three," Elyana said. "It should save us a little trouble."

"And if this doesn't work?"

"I guess you'd better have your wand ready."

It did not take long. Elyana had three of her finest arrows remaining; the rest had been scavenged from Galtans. She watched the diggers for only a few moments. They did not seem to have been at it for very long, for their dirt pile was but a low mound.

One of the men with the shovels bent down, lifted something, and brushed at it. The hooded figure stepped closer.

	"The mask might actually improve the necromancer's appearance."

Until then he'd been partly obscured by the protective line of corpses and the diggers themselves. No longer. As the necromancer stared at what Elyana thought must be the pendant, she loosed her first arrow, then the second, in quick succession. As they soared through the night, she took a moment longer to aim a third.

The first one tore through the air, over the shoulder of one of the dead sentinels, then passed just beyond the head of the Galtan wizard, who looked up. The second one came within a handspan of his throat, but somehow dropped away just as it drew close. Elyana cursed—the Galtan necromancer must have some sort of protective barrier.

The third, though, took the fellow in his chest. He sank to one knee.

Arcil leveled his wand then, and at his shouted words a firewall appeared beside the Galtans, casting all of them in stark red light. The men with shovels screamed in anguish.

Elyana fitted more arrows and fired again and again even as the wall of fire raged.

Then the corpses were running toward them, eight in all. Five were the long-dead skeletal remnants of the valley, but three were Galtan soldiers. Their opponent was apparently an equal opportunity necromancer.

"Do you have anything else?" Elyana asked.

"A web," Arcil told her.

"Perfect."

The wizard set to work, and with a few whispered words a long strand of material glistened into existence between a bush and wall directly in the path of the charging corpses. They rushed right into the sticky strands, where they flailed helplessly. Elyana was already on the run, arrow in one hand, bow in the other. She and Arcil bypassed the writhing bodies, closing on the Galtan position. The necromancer was standing once more, and she fit the arrow to her bow as she ran.

And then there was something clasping her ankle and leg, and a rope of darkness had snared her wrist and waist. Black tentacles formed of shadow had shot up from the ground and wrapped her with implacable power, pinning arms to her sides, holding her legs in place. She turned her head and saw Arcil caught in the same fashion. The eerie, cold restraints were secure and inflexible.

The wall of fire had faded finally, but by the light of the lantern he bore, the necromancer could be seen as he walked to meet them. Two of his still-living guards paced at his side.

Upon closer inspection, the fellow did not seem especially intimidating. He wore a tanned, gray leather mask that concealed all of his face but his eyes, his mouth, and his chin. His hair was hidden by a hood that seemed tied to the mask itself.

The man was round and short, with large hands and stubby fingers, and though the high boots of a huntsman flashed from beneath his robe, his waddling stride made it clear they were an affectation rather than his customary dress. Probably he was a merchant of some kind when he was not serving his state as a Gray Gardener.

He stopped only a few feet before them. In one hand he held a tarnished pendant of silver and gold. The only sign of the arrow Elyana had skewered him with was a dark patch upon his jacket near his heart.

His two uniformed guardsman looked scorched, from their blackened faces to their singed coats and eyebrows. One of them had both his sword and his teeth bared.

"I would have been much more upset with you," the necromancer said in a mild voice, "if you had not led me to this place with this treasure. Why, if you're still alive when I decipher its workings, I may have to thank you."

"You don't need to decipher its workings," Elyana said. "I can tell you what it does."

The necromancer chuckled. "Really. And why would an elf know anything about it?"

"You hold the pendant fashioned by Lord Dolandryn to ward his valley from invaders."

The necromancer's mouth set firmly. This was apparently not the answer he'd expected. "How do you know?"

"Why do you think we came here?" she asked. "I could have lost you the moment we entered the forest."

"You should just kill her, honored citizen," the soldier with the sword suggested.

"Hush," the wizard replied without looking at him. "Elf, I have ways to learn the truth from you."

"There's no need for any of that," Elyana said. "If you free me, I will promise to tell you how the pendant's magic works."

The Galtan laughed, a merry sound such as friends share at a good jest. No one joined him. "You wish me to free you both?"

"Just me."

"Elyana!" Arcil said.

"Now what would the state say if I were to show favoritism to a criminal? Justice must be blind, elf."

"Think what you'll be able to do for the state with the power of that necklace."

The necromancer hefted the thing in one hand, clearly considering it. "Your proposal intrigues me. I sense the power in this thing, and know that it is linked to these dead."

"Then free me."

"No, no. I think you must prove your loyalty to me. Tell me its use, and then I will free you."

Elyana knew that he would never do that, but to acquiesce too quickly would make the fellow suspicious. "You must swear."

"Very well. I swear, by the love I hold for the republic and people of Galt, that I shall free you from those bonds once you have told me the secret of this necklace."

"Don't listen to him, Elyana!" Arcil spat.

It was clearly a very poor sort of oath. The necromancer might mean he would free her of those bonds but put her in others, and he had in no way indicated that she would be freed generally. She knew only that the necromancer would want both of them alive for the guillotine if at all possible, for Galtans loved a show.

"Very well." Elyana feigned reluctance. She heard Arcil still begging that she say nothing. "You must extend your power into the necklace itself," she said. "You will feel the stirrings of the dead when you do so. If you are truly talented, you might be able to command dozens upon dozens of the folks, though they say only Lord Dolandryn could send forth the whole of the valley at once."

The Galtan smiled. "I can do anything that this lord of yours could have done. He could not be so great, if I have never heard of him."

"Free me now," Elyana said.

"First," the wizard said, lifting the necklace, "I will test the truth of your words." He fit it over his neck, and the pendant hung down, shining incongruously on the pot belly that distended his robe.

The necromancer stared off into the distance, then smiled, then laughed. "By the glorious state! You did not lie! I can feel them. I will command them to depart the fortress... I can sense them all the way through the valley. They are set, somehow, to guard the place from intrusion." His voice sounded strained.

"You make it sound easy," Elyana said. "The prince had to work harder than that."

"I can command them all," the necromancer declared.

"Prove it," Elyana said.

He lifted his wobbling chins proudly. "I will. You will see me march from this forest with my new army, for you will be my prisoner! Oh, I will free you from these bonds, but you were a fool to think I would release you from the custody of the state and the justice you are due."

"You're all talk," Elyana told him. "I have yet to see this army you command."

His lips curled.

It took only a moment, then. He stared off into the distance, fists clenched. "I can feel them. I can feel them all! Come, children. Come to me—he will... we will... all..."

Quite suddenly he dropped limp to the ground. He made no attempt to catch himself, and lay twitching. The guardsmen started, unsure, and Arcil shouted a command. The tentacles vanished.

He had dispelled the Galtan's work by use of the ring he wore, looted like his wand from the River Kingdom crypt. Elyana snatched up her bow, charged forward and caught the blade of the lunging Galtan on the edge of her bow. She backhanded his face with its other end and drew her sword as he staggered, crying out in pain. A quick thrust sent him groaning to the ground.

By then the other Galtan was advancing.

Arcil shouted for her attention. "Elyana—the dead!"

She saw them from the corners of her eyes, advancing from every direction. The maddened or enfeebled necromancer lay on the ground, racked by spasms, but the last command he'd given through the faulty artifact still worked, and they had been called to him. Thus they came.

"Put up your blade, fool," Elyana shouted at her opponent. "There's no time for this!"

"Die, wretch!"

Elyana beat his blade aside and drove her own through the Galtan's coat and breast. He sank to his knees, dying with a look of astonishment.

Arcil was already holding the necklace when Elyana turned, and at the whispered word the ghostly prince had taught him, the thing fell open to reveal a glowing center. He set it amid the burned grasses.

Elyana lifted her sword and Arcil quickly backed off, leaving the necklace with its brilliant blue nimbus.

"Elyana!"

The two Galtans she had but lately slain were in motion. One staggered at her, arms outstretched. The other had not even bothered climbing to its feet—it snatched at her ankle, enclosing it in a grip of iron.

Elyana dragged it forward with her, raised up the sword, and sliced down into the amulet's blue glow.

She felt the magical energies of her blade thrum as she made contact with something, as if an invisible hand had slowed her descent. The pendant's light had not diminished or dimmed. The grip on her ankle tightened. She heard Arcil shouting something and the thud of his staff against bone.

She raised the sword higher and struck once more, and again, and a third time. Usually she wielded the weapon with more finesse, but she was tired, and, truth be told, more than a little afraid that all of their effort had been expended for naught.

But then, on the fifth blow, the glow shimmered and lessened. She felt the grip about her ankle relax, and on the sixth strike, the magic winked out. All about her the dead dropped, hitting the soil and pavement with a rattle of bones and armor.

There was then only the sound of Arcil panting. She turned to find the wizard leaning heavily on his staff.

"That was very clever," he said.

"Did you know what I planned?"

"I guessed. Did you like my dramatic denial?" He smiled. "I thought I did a fair job, acting. I waited for the right opening to use my ring. You certainly gave me one."

Elyana nodded, and bent over to wipe her blade on a dead Galtan's clothes.

"We make a good team, Elyana," Arcil was saying. "I think that was very nicely managed." He stepped over to the Galtan necromancer, the man's limbs still shaking at random intervals. "What shall we do with him?"

"Leave him," Elyana said darkly, and sheathed her sword.

Arcil appeared unsure about that. When he bent down over the fellow, Elyana thought at first he meant to deliver a mercy blow, but instead he rifled through his belongings until he rose with a book. "I fancy learning that black tentacle spell," he said.

"You're not going to start dabbling in the dead, are you?" Elyana asked.

Arcil shuddered a little. "You're joking, right?"

When they returned to the tower, Mirelle was waiting for them. The prince was gone.

"We were watching from the tower," Mirelle told them. "He told me when he felt that the necklace was in use, and he grew very sad. But a short time later he turned to me with the most amazing smile. He tried to say something, but I couldn't hear him, for at that very moment he faded away. It was like he had never been there at all."

They rested in the tower for half the night. Elyana expected no trouble from any surviving Galtans, but she still roused her weary group before dawn, leaving the valley via its southern exit. Arcil might ordinarily have groused about having to share a horse, but he did not complain about having Mirelle pressed behind him on the saddle.

By dawn they were on the southern heights, and Elyana could not keep herself from taking a final look over the valley. In the dim light, it was almost possible to imagine the ruins as they must once have been, with folk leaving the houses for their fields, hoes slung over their backs. They would have walked forth in groups, their children running ahead. Others might have pushed carts toward the city square.

"We did it," Arcil said. He had dropped off Mirelle's horse to join Elyana.

"Yes."

"You look sad. Against terrible odds, we came through alive. I can't think of better reasons to be happy."

"I was just thinking about the prince. He loved his people so much that he destroyed them."

"Love," Arcil said. "Sometimes I think we're all better off without it."

"Well, then we end up with the Galtans, don't we? Justice beyond compassion. There must be a middle path."

"Let me know if you find it," Arcil said. "Right now, though, I would rather you focus on the trail home."

"That I can do," Elyana told him. "That I can do." And she turned from her contemplation of the valley, climbed into her saddle, and headed for the woods.

Explore Further: Though this story is finished, the adventure isn't. Read more of Elayana's adventures in the new Pathfinder Tales novel Plague of Shadows, available now!

Coming Next Week: A blast from the past as Dave Gross brings us the adventures of a young Count Jeggare in the Mwangi Expanse in "A Lesson in Taxonomy."

Howard Andrew Jones is the author of the newly released Pathfinder Tales novel Plague of Shadows. He's published one other novel, the new historical fantasy adventure The Desert of Souls, as well as edited eight collections of literary giant Harold Lamb's work, and currently serves as the Managing Editor for the iconic sword and sorcery magazine Black Gate. For more information, see his website at howardandrewjones.com.

The Walkers from the Crypt

by Howard Andrew Jones

Chapter Three: Bones of the Fallen

Elyana withdrew a lantern from her saddlebag and Arcil used a cantrip to light it. With the wizard holding the lamp aloft, she did her best to calm the horses, distracting them with grain and securing their lead lines to some rusting sconces so that the animals would not wander off.

"What do you think the ghost wants?" Mirelle asked. She had been remarkably quiet, given her youth and the horrors she had witnessed. But then, she had probably endured plenty of horror in the prisons of Galt, awaiting execution because her uncle had once served the wrong noble. "Do you think it wants to hurt us?"

Arcil shook his head. "That's unlikely. It need not have signaled us to safety at all. It was a near thing out there. Presumably, it wants to show us something. I'm concerned that if we do not accede to its demands, it may become much less amiable, and I'm not sure we have the strength to combat it."

"My sword arm is still good," Elyana said, though she was as tired as the rest of them.

"Well, my spells are nearly spent."

"So you have said. How many charges are left in your wand?"

"Four. But a tower is a poor place to wield a wall of flame."

"We will do what we have to do," Elyana said. "For now, let us assume that he is a lord who has invited us to his tower. At the least, we owe him our thanks for that. Spirit or no."

Arcil frowned, but said nothing more. Elyana took the lantern and started up.

The second floor was sagging and populated by great jagged gaps. There was no sign of the spirit there, so they kept moving upward, noting as they climbed that the third level was in even worse shape and was now largely open to the sky. The stairs continued on, spiraling up the tower's outer wall to a flat area the width of the staircase and perhaps twice as long. There were no merlons, only a solid, waist-high wall along the rim of what had once been a fine observation deck.

The ghost stood looking over the city as they approached. He appeared to be a young man, translucent and mildly luminescent, in a finely edged robe and boots. A cold wind blew out from over the trees but did not stir his garments. He turned to regard them with sad eyes.

"So has it been for centuries," he said. His voice was clear, cutting. The sound did not match the movement of his lips.

Arcil and Mirelle reached the parapet. The wizard advanced to Elyana's side, but the girl waited upon the top stair, her hand clasped to the knife hilt that projected from her belt. Elyana wondered what she planned to do with it.

"We thank you for your aid," Elyana said to the spirit, "and shelter."

"It is my pleasure," said the ghost, regarding them distantly, as if they were themselves transparent. "I wish you might have seen my city in its prime, for it was a lovely, well-watered land, blessed by the gods."

"What happened to it?" Arcil asked. "And by what name are you called?"

This may not have been the most tactful introduction, Elyana thought, but the apparition registered no offense.

	"Arcil's right, of course—ghosts never appear unless they want something from you."

"I am Lord Dolandryn," he answered, "son of Telsek, grandson of Nylesos." The ghost paused. "I see by your faces that you know them not."

"We are not of this land," Elyana replied.

"And you are not of my time. I have lost track of the centuries. How long has it been since I cursed this land, and my people, to everlasting death? Do you even track your years from the same point?" He turned away to gaze once more over the far-flung ruins.

"You did this?" Elyana could not keep the horror from her voice. She noted a few corpses still milling about at the foot of tower.

"The fault lies solely with me," the ghost intoned mournfully, keeping his gaze without, "But this was not my intent." He encompassed the whole of the valley with a sweep of his hand as he turned back to them. "I meant to preserve us."

"How did this happen?" Arcil repeated.

"Surely, you have seen the beauty of my valley—its soil is fertile and forgiving. It was a blessed place. A desirable place. Folk fought for it many times over the centuries. In my time we repulsed invaders again and again, but our numbers became depleted. I lost my only brother, and every one of my first cousins."

"We, too, have lost friend and loved ones," Elyana said. "We understand your sorrow."

"I thank you. I hope, then, that you might better understand my actions. My great uncle had many magical tomes locked away, and I threw myself into their study, thinking I might learn ways to better safeguard my people. I found one. It was my thought to use the remains of those who had attacked us as defense, but while the idea had merit, I could not long control those I called forth, nor command sufficient numbers to turn back invaders."

"And this is the result?" Elyana asked.

"Not entirely. I learned of a tool that I could craft. With it under my power, I thought to control hundreds upon hundreds of the dead so that nothing could harm our valley ever again."

The spirit's voice took on a harder, almost maniacal edge to which Elyana paid careful heed.

"In the midst of my experiments came the raiders of the Veldur clan sweeping in on their horses. I used my tool before it was ready. It worked, you see—worked well. I felt my mind touch the empty vessels of the dead, and knew that I could command them. But they were not enough, and I called upon more, knowing as I did so that I stretched my power to the limits. I felt the Veldur falling before me. They were dying, and I was raising the fallen to fight against their fellows... and then everything passed from me.

I know now that I had pushed myself too far. When I was... aware, once more, I found myself as you see me now. The town was long abandoned, weeds growing up between the cobblestones. The living are fled. But the dead—the dead still rise, ready to do battle with all who enter the valley. Those living who fall are added to their number. I have seen..." His voice faltered. "I have seen my own people among the dead, folk that lived when I lived, and I think that they were destroyed when I lost control, but I do not know. I cannot know."

"I am sorry," Elyana told him, and she was, though it seemed trite to tell him so.

"Now I wish only for release," the ghost continued. "For myself and for my land. But I cannot make it so. If I venture from the tower, I feel my mind fading, for the pull of the pendant I fashioned is too great. Yet I fear that if I return to it, it will consume me entirely, and perhaps extend the curse even farther."

"Now we come to it," Arcil said quietly, but Elyana ignored him. Sometimes his superior air was too much, even for her.

"Can you help me?" The ghost stepped forward, hands outstretched.

"How?" Elyana asked.

"It is the pendant that powers the sorcery. And I think it is the pendant that keeps me here. If it can be destroyed, then the dead will fall, forever. And I will finally be at peace."

Elyana ignored Arcil's knowing look and kept her eyes fixed on the ghost. "Where is the thing, and how can it be destroyed?"

The spirit turned from her and drifted over to the rim of the balcony, where it pointed back the way they had come.

"I can still sense it," he said in his cold, lonely voice. "You, wizard, might be able to feel its power if you extended yourself. It must lie where my body lies. Only a magical weapon can destroy the pendant, for I shielded the thing against harm."

Arcil glanced over to Elyana before speaking. "It does not seem... especially feasible, then, to seek the pendant now. Your dead will rip us limb from limb, and then we'd be keeping the valley safe with the rest of your... comrades."

The ghost nodded. "I think I may be able to offer you some small protections along the way.

"You say that Arcil will be able to sense it," Elyana said. "How?"

The ghost looked surprised. "In my day, any wizard would have such spells at his disposal. I have witnessed your friend's magics—he should feel the pendant's pull, though I suppose some might be more sensitive to it than others."

Elyana looked to Arcil for confirmation.

"There was a strange, unwelcome attraction to a certain area we passed through the ruins," he admitted. "But I was not inclined to investigate. To be honest, I was otherwise occupied."

"An 'unwelcome attraction,'" Elyana repeated. "And you say, Lord Dolandryn, that some might be more sensitive to its power than others. A necromancer, perhaps?"

"Almost certainly."

Elyana frowned, and the moment she looked at Arcil she knew he was having the same thought. She saw his eyes narrow.

"We're done for now," Arcil said.

"We can't let the Galtans have that thing," Elyana said. "Do you know what they would do with its power?"

"How do you know their wizard is even alive?" Arcil asked.

"He's a necromancer," Elyana said. "And a powerful one. We saw his work. If we made it to safety, I'm sure he did. And if he finds the pendant, it's only a matter of time before he figures out its use."

Arcil sighed deeply. "Well-reasoned, unfortunately. I suppose we’ll have to find it before he does."

"It seems we need each other, Prince," Elyana agreed. "What assistance can you give?"

The ghost drifted back to them, considered them for just a moment, and began to speak.

Coming Next Week: Dread amulets and daring escapades in the final chapter of "The Walkers from the Crypt." This story is a standalone prequel to the new Pathfinder Tales novel Plague of Shadows, available now!

Howard Andrew Jones is the author of the newly released Pathfinder Tales novel Plague of Shadows. He's published one other novel, the new historical fantasy adventure The Desert of Souls, as well as edited eight collections of literary giant Harold Lamb's work, and currently serves as the Managing Editor for the iconic sword and sorcery magazine Black Gate. For more information, see his website at howardandrewjones.com.

The Walkers from the Crypt

by Howard Andrew Jones

Chapter Two: City of the Dead

"I don't care for it at all." Arcil had swung down from his horse to contemplate some glyphs carved into a stone pylon thrust into the ground beside an oak tree. It was tilted a few degrees off vertical, and pitted with age. Overhead, the leafy canopy was so thick it seemed twilight had already fallen.

Elyana was eager to keep moving; she meant to lose the Galtans only after she'd led them deeper into the woods, but she hadn't reckoned on them pressing so close. Perhaps the sight of their quarry fleeing before them on the plain had excited them, for they were now crashing through the brush a few bowshots behind with almost reckless intensity. Yet her voice did not betray her concern. "What do they say?"

"This is old, and marks a boundary. A warding, perhaps?" Arcil brushed at some moss with two fingers to better view one of the glyphs.

"A warding for what?" Mirelle asked. She glanced over her shoulder, apparently more focused on the noises of their pursers. Her horse shifted uneasily beneath her, stirring the leaves with its hooves.

"These are more initials than words," Arcil said hesitantly. "I'm not certain I can correctly infer the meaning."

He sounded as if he knew something and did not wish to say it. "Speak, Arcil. We've no time to waste."

He glanced up at her and then brushed fingers over the three uppermost glyphs. "I think this means 'the walkers.'" He stood, frowning, and brushed leaves and dirt from his pants. He passed close to Elyana, speaking softly as he glanced up. "Walkers from the crypt."

"What was that?" Mirelle asked, straining forward, her face screwed up with worry.

"We're in this together," Elyana said to Arcil. "You might as well tell her what you're thinking."

Arcil climbed back into his saddle, sighing a little. "I think we're heading toward an old burial ground. We're being warned away. It's likely some local superstition."

"Looks like we'll find out." Elyana started forward. She planned to keep moving south, into the woods. Come nightfall, she'd use her better vision and skills to cut west from the forest. She doubted even the best-trained Galtan woodsmen could keep up with them in darkness. More troubling was what a Galtan necromancer could do with a whole graveyard beneath his feet. Hopefully his selection of spells would be as limited as Arcil's after a full day of work. Surely it had been no easy feat to send so many hounds against them, even if he were a caster of great power.

She guided her charges on, ignoring the occasional grunt or low oath from behind her. The humans didn't always notice the branches she ducked.

Occasional gaps in the forest canopy allowed wide shafts of evening light to stream in, but far from reassuring, the muted illumination served only to emphasize the greater darkness around them. There was a silence here. The bird calls had diminished.

"I don't like this place," Mirelle announced quietly.

"Do not worry, my dear," Arcil told her. "Do not worry."

He sounded less soothing than patronizing.

They continued a gradual decent, and then, suddenly, arrived at what Elyana first took as the forest's edge, though she knew intellectually that the Verduran Forest stretched south for hundreds of miles. Slipping from her horse, she advanced to find instead that they had arrived at the edge of a small, crescent-shaped valley mysteriously bereft of trees. Within it were scattered the bones of a small city. Long-shattered stone walls stood out from the gnarled bushes. Paving stones showed gray here and there beneath the undergrowth and detritus. A few buildings were intact, notably a tower near the center, but most were fallen in, and all of the roofs had collapsed long ago.

The abandoned city felt even more desolate than the surrounding woods, and she thought first to skirt it, then reasoned that she could use the place to better confuse their pursuit. She even briefly considered wearing away their numbers from the defensible positions at hand.

They wound deep into the ruins, Elyana leading the way, and the silence here was so deep the sounds of the Galtan mob were quickly lost to her behind crumbling walls marred by thick vines . The sun sank lower, and twilight came on at last. Elyana had been raised by humans and was well acquainted with their instinctive fear of the dark. Still, she was surprised to hear the soft but clear concern in Arcil's voice.

"Elyana."

She looked back at him, saw him paused at a turn down a winding, cobbled road angling for the tower. Mirelle had paused beside him.

"What is it?" she called back.

"Something... someone... waved for me to follow."

There was no time for hesitation. Not hearing the Galtans made her more concerned about their position. If they reached the valley before her team cleared it...

Yet it was unlike Arcil to sound so indecisive. Or troubled. "A Galtan?" she asked.

	"Arcil may not be as suave as he thinks he is, but he's a good man to have in a fight."

"I think it may have been a ghost," Arcil admitted.

"You're sure you saw it?" Elyana asked.

"I am not entirely sure, no," he said, sounding a little defensive. "I saw something from the corner of my eye, and when I turned to look directly, it was gone."

Elyana frowned. Arcil was not especially prone to flights of fancy, but a more urgent threat loomed. "Let's press on," Elyana said. Reluctantly, she noted a new chill in the air and their mounts' ears swiveling nervously to catch no sounds but their own.

As they passed beneath the dark silhouette of the tower, Elyana herself glimpsed a figure standing in the gap between two craggy walls. It had the semblance a man, garbed in a white robe and motioning them onward, but before she could properly focus, it vanished.

At that same moment, from somewhere far behind came a masculine scream and a cacophony of shouting and clashing arms. The Galtans?

"What's happening?" Mirelle gasped.

Elyana pulled her horse around, but before she could locate a vantage point to investigate the distant struggle, a shadowy figure lurched up from the darkness on their right. The horses shied, laying back their ears, and Mirelle stifled a scream.

It lacked a head. Behind it, striding out from the yawning maw of a ruined building, were a half-dozen helmed figures in broken armor. There limbs were nothing but bone.

Elyana cursed. "Time to go!" Her horse was eager to race ahead, and Mirelle and Arcil followed. They quickly outdistanced the dead, but as Elyana continued down the street, more dark figures shambled out of the darkness.

"This does not seem to be Galtan necromancy," Arcil shouted up to her.

He was right. Although she supposed that some Galtan soldier might have shouted because he was frightened by the horrific power wielded by one of their mages, the sounds of battle had been unmistakable. The Galtans were fighting these corpses. More likely this was what the markers had been set to warn visitors away from.

"We ride, fast as we dare," she said. "Out of this valley. Follow me."

She darted down a winding side street, urging her horse to leap over something she took for rubbish in the middle of the street until it rose up, waving a notched sword. She pulled back instead and her animal reared, striking the thing with its front hooves. The dead warrior was flung backward, shedding bones as it flew through the air. It struck the street with a muffled clatter and did not rise.

Other shapes were slipping from the ruins. Some strode confidently, bearing weapons. Other shambled. A few were completely intact, but most were missing limbs, or even heads. And all advanced toward them.

She came to a halt and the others drew up near her. "I've few grand spells left, Elyana," Arcil said soberly.

"Then we shall cut a swathe." She drew her blade, a comforting weight in her hand.

"We cannot hope to destroy enough of them," Arcil said, gesturing around at the gloom alive with shambling movements. "What about the ghost?"

Elyana considered the overwhelming number of foes. "What about the ghost?"

"Suppose it meant to guide us to safety? It was the only one of these that did not attack."

True enough, but that didn't mean it intended no harm. However, there had been a tower nearby, which at least had the benefit of being a more defensible point. It had appeared intact, and was much closer than the crumbling walls that marked the city's edge. "Ride for the tower," she commanded. Her horse reared again as she turned it.

"Let me clear a way," Arcil shouted, and Elyana reined in. Mirelle looked on with wide eyes as the figures shambled ever nearer. The horses danced nervously.

When Arcil shouted and cast, his horse shied, but the sudden movement did not interfere with the tiny ball that left his hands. A moment later dozens of the corpses were wrapped in a sheath of expanding fire. So sudden and explosive was the blast that it destroyed them utterly, as if the street had temporarily been touched by the light of the sun. Unfortunately, other dead were already moving to take their place.

Elyana kicked her horse into gallop, sword outstretched to catch the corpses converging on their path some lengths beyond the reach of Arcil's flame. Behind her, Arcil grunted as he laid about with his staff. From Mirelle she heard only shouted commands to the horse. Elyana had no choice but to release Vallyn's mount, which in any case galloped after its fellows, trying to stay within the relative safety of its herd.

Elyana cut her way forward and slowed just two crumbling buildings away from their destination. Arcil shouted something from her left, and wind rolled forth from his hands, pushing a skeletal assailant into two of its neighbors, tangling all three in a heap of rotting limbs.

"Hurry," Arcil cried, and they pressed forward. Elyana chanced a glance behind at Mirelle, who frantically kicked a grasping, headless woman away and then saw Vallyn's horse go down under a pile of scrambling bodies. The horse screamed again and again, and Elyana gritted her teeth.

There must be hundreds of these animated dead throughout the ruins. There would be no way to gallop through them. She wondered if she and Arcil would be able to hold them off long enough even to trap themselves in a high tower room. The mage had already worn through many of his spells. Provided they could even make it to the tower, the poor horses were probably done for.

"One side," Arcil snapped, and came up a bit ahead of Elyana. In his hand was the black wand they'd found in the river king's tomb. He shouted a single word, and instantly a wall of flame licked into existence along their left, consuming the first two rows of dead. Arcil spun in his saddle and shouted again to right, and then behind. The flames burned on, and a charred, acrid smell washed over them. The horses screamed and rolled their eyes in terror.

"That," Arcil said breathlessly, "is about all I've got."

Their way forward was now free, and they kicked their frightened steeds into full flight. The corpses pressed forward determinedly into the flame, immune to fear or concern about their condition.

"Look at that, Elyana!" Arcil said.

The ghostly figure stood beckoning to them from a rotted doorway into the tower. This time it spoke in a strained voice, like a winter wind heard from a great distance. "Hurry."

They arrived before the portal to the tower. Elyana's horse uncharacteristically slid to a halt before the dark passage, despite her urgings. Arcil's and Mirelle's didn't make it even that far, and Elyana heard a thump and an oath as Arcil was thrown from his beast. Elyana leapt down from the horse, keeping tight hold of the reins, and reached out to grab the bridle on Mirelle's. "Go—inside!"

Mirelle slid off her mount and hesitated for only a moment before doing as she was told.

Arcil picked himself up, scowling and distinctly ruffled. His horse danced near the wall of flame, looking for an exit and keeping as far as possible from the tower.

"Arcil, hold this." She handed him the reins to her horse while she threw her cloak over the head of Mirelle's mount and led it in a circle, then into the tower itself. Elyana could barely see after the brightness without, but there was no sign of the ghost within the ebon gloom of the large chamber, which surely encompassed the whole diameter of the structure. She handed Mirelle the reins to her horse and hurried back to Arcil.

The flame walls were fading already as she emerged and saw Arcil struggling to copy her actions with his own cloak. With her assistance, they steered the animal inside while the third horse leapt over the diminishing fires into the crowd of dead, then died screaming under their blows.

Elyana briefly took in their surroundings. There was nothing within save some dilapidated shelving, some warped wooden planks—probably floorboards that had rotted out from the floors above—and a staircase leading up. As she studied this last, the ghost reappeared upon a stair. In the utter darkness, even the dim light of his transparent body shone like a beacon. For the first time she saw him clearly, a young man in a robe with great mournful eyes. He wore soft boots, and jeweled rings shown upon two of his fingers. He beckoned once toward them, turned upon the stair, and vanished again.

Elyana stepped back to the doorway, expecting to see the ranks of skeletons marching toward them. However, those few not milling over the remains of the dead horse seemed listless. Many simply sank back to the ground; others were wandering away.

"Well that's quite interesting," Arcil said. "I suppose that the tower's warded against them. Or perhaps they're unable to recognize intruders within the tower itself."

"What do we do now?" Mirelle asked.

Elyana eyed the stairway. "I guess we go up."

Coming Next Week: Galtan necromancers and ancient curses in Chapter Three of "The Walkers from the Crypt." This story is a standalone prequel to the new Pathfinder Tales novel Plague of Shadows, available now!

Howard Andrew Jones is the author of the newly released Pathfinder Tales novel Plague of Shadows. He's published one other novel, the new historical fantasy adventure The Desert of Souls, as well as edited eight collections of literary giant Harold Lamb's work, and currently serves as the Managing Editor for the iconic sword and sorcery magazine Black Gate. For more information, see his website at howardandrewjones.com.

Illustration by Dan Scott. Wallpaper design by Crystal Frasier. Widescreen version here.

Bark at the Moon!

Friday, March 4, 2011

Last week we showcased the cover art from Howard Andrew Jones' Pathfinder Tales novel Plague of Shadows. This week we go back to the beginning and give you a wallpaper based on Prince of Wolves by Dave Gross, the novel that launched the entire line. If you haven't read it yet you really should. It's got fighting, murder, mystery, true love, werewolves, ancient magics, curses from beyond the grave, and even dead Pathfinders! Best of all, if you know any Pathfinder Tales subscribers, they may have received a free copy to give away...

And tune into this spot on Monday as Pathfinder Designer Stephen Radney-MacFarland guest-blogs and things get... explosive.

Hyrum Savage
Marketing and Organized Play Manager

The Walkers from the Crypt

by Howard Andrew Jones

Chapter One: The Diversion

"They're not baying." Vallyn stepped out from behind the boulder and peered out at the grassland. "Does that bother anyone else? Shouldn't they be howling at us?"

Elyana had no time to waste educating the young bard. There were but a few minutes left before the hounds would reach them.

She'd caught sight of the animals almost a half hour ago as she and her four companions fled across the grasslands of southern Galt. The seemingly inexhaustible hounds had slowly gained on their horses, and the party had finally picked out a rise from which to make a stand. It would be a near thing, as the bard was little use at range and Mirelle no use at all. Edak was an accomplished bowman and would have been a great asset, but he was still at home recovering from their last foray into Galt.

Stelan stepped up beside the bard and raised a hand to visor his face against the sinking sun. Tall and sturdy, he wore banded chain mail that hung below his waist. Normally the knight kept it immaculate, but after the tumultuous events of the last few days, it was rent in numerous places, and stained with coppery red splashes that resembled rust. "Elyana will take out as many as she can at long range," he told the group. "Then she and I will try to get them to cluster for Arcil."

Elyana looked up from the arrows she was planting in a row before her. "I'll take the left flank."

"Good." Stelan smiled grimly. "I'll take the right."

Elyana rose in time to see Arcil acknowledge Stelan's plan with a regal nod. The wizard's traveling clothes were as rumpled and stained as the rest of theirs, but they had begun life as expensive garments tailored for his frame, and they still suited him. With his gray-flecked hair and proud nose he looked more like a wandering aristocrat than an accomplished mage.

"But then what?" Vallyn asked. He gazed apprehensively out at the wedge-shaped formation of hounds sprinting forward through the high grass. "How can they keep running like that?" He was young and wide-eyed, and though he was shorter than the rest of them Elyana thought he still looked gangly. Everything he carried seemed a little too large for him, from clothes to sword, and only the lute slung over his back looked as if it belonged on his person.

"They're dead," Arcil said in his low, smooth voice. "They need neither breath nor rest."

"Dead?" Vallyn repeated.

Elyana saw that the youth's eyes had widened even further, and she shot Arcil a warning look. She could see the hint of a sly smile playing at the corner of the wizard's mouth.

"Galt is a land brimming with the dead," Arcil continued, unfazed.

"Thanks to the Galtan justice," Mirelle said bitterly.

"Yes," Arcil agreed. The wizard was frequently cold to those he felt beneath him—which was nearly everyone—but with Mirelle he was somewhat solicitous, as if he worked to foster good feelings. Elyana supposed the extra effort stemmed from the blonde's pretty features. When they had released her from the Galtan cell, Mirelle shyly confided that she'd had to scrounge amongst cast-off garments thrown into her cell after her own had been torn and soiled during her capture. Probably she had noticed Arcil staring at her tight bodice.

"Galtans hate wasting resources," Arcil said. "Their Gray Gardeners have grown quite practiced at necromancy."

"So how do we fight them?" Vallyn asked nervously.

"We do as I say," Stelan said patiently. "We'll funnel them so that they charge the easiest part of the slope, in a mass." Stelan pointed Vallyn to the gap between a large boulder and a sprawling thicket they themselves had passed through to reach to the summit. "Arcil can then work his magics, and you can work yours. If there are any left, you let me stand the front as they charge. If I can't hold the line alone, move up beside me. If they flank us, we form a circle. Clear enough?"

Vallyn nodded hurriedly.

"Mirelle, you stay clear, with the horses."

The girl's bright eyes fastened upon the knight. But then, she had been watching the knight since her rescue the night before. He was not an especially good-looking man, owing in part to his broken nose, but his ease at command had exerted a powerful effect on the pretty teenager. Elyana was not sure why this bothered her, as Stelan had shown Mirelle nothing but appropriate kindness, and she supposed that it tied directly into her certainty that she, as an elf, would eventually lose her human lover one way or another.

"I hesitate to advise another spellcaster," Arcil was saying to Vallyn, "but remember that charm spells will not work upon the dead."

"They don't?" Vallyn sounded almost as if he wished to complain about the fairness of the issue.

"They don't," Elyana confirmed. "Stelan, it's nearly time."

"Stand ready, everyone. Mirelle, it's time to move. Back near the picket lines, please."

The girl obligingly obeyed.

"Elyana," Vallyn asked quietly, "how far away do you think the rest of the Galtans are?"

He had asked her that several times since they had stopped. Only Elyana's eyesight was keen enough to occasionally detect the distant pursuers, though all of them had known they would be followed. The bard had been all for pushing on for the border, no matter that the others told him the Galtans could hardly be expected to stop pursuit there. Even if they reached a Taldan fortress, it would most likely be abandoned, and border patrols in the northeast were a rarity. So there would be no outside aid short of a miracle. They'd have to deal with the Galtan posse themselves. Somehow.

Elyana lifted her bow and arrow and studied the onrushing hounds. Their hides were a uniform dark brown, flecked with white and crimson. They did not vie for first position or race with one another; they maintained precise order and formation. "Three dozen," she said. And then, scanning the dry, rolling plain for a cloud raised by horsemen, she answered Vallyn. "We have at most three-quarters of an hour."

"At the least?"

"Just over a quarter-hour."

She heard the dry grass rustle as the bard stepped away, and then she centered the whole of her attention upon the targets. She'd elected to use the diminished stock of her own arrows first, for the greater distance shots, as she had crafted them herself and knew their capabilities. Those they'd lifted from the bodies of the Galtan guards were a little longer than she used with her own pull, and were hastily, if efficiently, made.

Vallyn had recently described an attack by her as a storm of arrows. This time, though, she took careful aim before launching. The opening arrow arced up and out, then slammed straight through the shoulder blade of the leading hound. The impact spun it into the one on its right, breaking the formation. In the brief moment when she paused to set her next arrow, order was restored, and the struck hound ran on, the arrow sticking up like a decorative flag. She was glad Vallyn couldn't see that. The young man was still quite green, and prone to panic. Her second shot caught the creature near the same place, and this time it stumbled and rolled. It struggled to rise for a time as its companions ran straight over it, then lay motionless as their repeated footfalls flattened its chest cavity.

She accounted for seven more before the things closed to medium range. She left three of her own arrows in reserve and shifted over to the Galtan supply as her love lifted his own bow. She and Stelan kept up a steady barrage, whittling down the numbers.

"They're hideous," Vallyn said. He had climbed to the top of the rounded boulder.

He was right; from closer on she could see the gaps in their flesh where ribs showed through, and the missing ears and rotted noses. Elyana saw now that their uniform appearance was deceptive. They might once have had different color fur, but their coats had rotted away to reveal stringy muscles to which occasional patches of blackened skin still hung.

"Oh, nicely done," Arcil said, stepping forward. He advanced on Stelan's left to gain a clear view, whispering into the air and twisting his hand. Something resembling a red bead surrounded by a scarlet nimbus of energy floated up from the tips of his extended digits, hung glowing for a moment, then soared out toward the oncoming abominations.

He had timed his attack with precision. Just as the front animals came within fifty feet of the hill, the bead reached them, flaring into a massive ball of flame.

Those in the front rank were instantly reduced to charred black powder and bone fragments. Others ran on, burning like candles until they collapsed under the consuming red tongues of fire. Many fell, though their limbs thrashed long after a living creature would have perished, powered as they were by arcane energies.

A handful of the creatures escaped the damage, fanning out into a line but maintaining a regular distance from one another. Blazes sputtered in the grasses around a blasted center, though the wind was not high enough for it to spread swiftly.

Elyana sighted along her bow as a hound darted toward her side of the hill. Smoke was already curling skyward, marking their positions for the Galtan troop. She heard Stelan calling out to the god Abadar to give him strength.

Her arrow took the thing low in the haunches, for it had sprung unexpectedly far after it clawed for purchase up the first third of the steep slope. Her second arrow drilled down through one blank eye socket, and the creature rolled lifeless all the way to the bottom.

She spun at a warning cry from Mirelle. One of the hounds had bounded up the trail only to be blasted by forked lightning cast from Arcil's outstretched hand. It lay smoking just a couple swordspans before the wizard. Three others had come up along the less vertiginous right side; Stelan dropped his bow and advanced to meet them.

Elyana nocked an arrow and followed him with her aim. Stelan swung against one from which two arrows already stood out, slicing it neatly in half. She was just about to let fly against another when the bard dropped into the fray, teeth gritted, and swung his own blade. It was a decent slash and might have sent a living beast cowering, but the unclean thing simply sprang for his sword arm and clamped down.

To Vallyn's credit, he didn't scream, but the arch of his back spoke volumes. Elyana skewered the third hound with two swift shots before it too could leap on the bard, and Stelan stepped in to slice the head off Vallyn's attacker.

Stelan took a guarded step back and looked over the battle scene. Fire was spreading slowly through the high grass, and the horses picketed at the rear of the hill whinnied nervously.

"That's all of them," Stelan said after a brief inspection. He then turned to Vallyn.

Elyana had already set down her bow to attend the bard. Now the young man dropped his sword. Jaw clenched, he stared almost dully at his right arm. The sleeve of his tunic was wet with blood, which streamed down toward his fingers. She didn't remind Vallyn that he probably should have stayed back, as commanded, because he surely realized it now. It had been clear that Stelan was not going to be overrun.

"Is he alright?" Mirelle asked.

Arcil's answer was immediate. "He should be fine."

"Here," Elyana said, and she gently took the bloodstained hand with her left and gripped Vallyn's bicep with her right. She pushed all else from her mind—the snorting of the frightened horses, the crackle of the devouring fire, the rapid breathing of the frightened youth. The wound was deeper than she had thought, but with concentrated effort she was able to extend her energies first to knit the surface flesh, then to join the muscles beneath. It was still not quite enough, so she took a deep breath and extended her powers a second time.

	"Elyana is better in the woods than any cityborn Galtan. But is it enough?"

The bard laughed then, and his face lit in a winning grin. "Thanks, Elyana." He flexed his fingers. "I can't play without my right arm..." He trailed off, and his face fell. "Is something wrong?"

She had been staring, for the boy's face was beaded in sweat. He did not look like someone recovering from exertion, but someone who was still undergoing it. Wordless, she stepped up to him and set her hand against his neck.

"What is it?" Stelan asked.

"Rapid heartbeat," she reported. "Rapid breathing."

"We just finished a battle," Stelan countered reasonably.

"Sweat's pouring off of him."

Arcil cursed under his breath. "He's been infected. You should have stayed back, boy."

"Infected?" Vallyn said queasily.

"How do you feel?" Elyana stepped back to look at his eyes. The black centers had near swallowed the brown.

"A little dizzy," Vallyn answered. "And a little tired. I'm going to be okay, though, right?"

That sort of magic was beyond her; she said nothing .

He licked his lips, then brushed them with trembling hands.

"Sit down against the boulder for a minute," Stelan said. "Mirelle, help him drink this." He handed his winesac off to the girl and motioned the others over to him.

Stelan wasted no time. They had planned on finishing the hounds and climbing immediately back into the saddle to keep ahead of the beasts' deadlier masters. "How bad is he?" he asked.

"Not good. The poison works quickly. He needs a real healer."

"Is this a mortal wound?" For once, Arcil actually sounded worried.

"It will be." Elyana answered.

Stelan frowned. "There's that little village just the other side of the border."

She shook her head. "If we lead the Galtans there, they'll level the place."

"They have that old healer," Stelan reminded her.

She had not forgotten, for the woman had once saved a very badly wounded Stelan from a deep spear thrust.

"She's the only one I know of anywhere nearby," Stelan finished.

"We can hold off the Galtans if they come," Arcil said confidently.

"I'm not sure we can, Arcil." Stelan cast a glance back to Vallyn and Mirelle. The girl looked back at them, clearly more concerned now than she had been during the attack, for the young man was shivering even under the cloak she had cast over him.

Arcil's brows furrowed. "Surely they can't be this desperate for the granddaughter of, of what—some minor noble? Why so much effort?"

The Galtans were a little mad in any case, and likely to track down any who escaped their warped sense of justice with extreme prejudice, but Elyana didn't think that was why they were out in such force.

It was as if Stelan read her thoughts. "They're after us, now. Your lightning blast cooked at least one Gray Gardener there near the gate, and, Abadar forgive me, I lost track of how many guardsmen I felled on the gallop out."

Security around the bastille had been tighter than Elyana's initial reconnaissance had led them to believe.

"Stelan's right," she said, and saw Arcil's expression sour at that. "It's revenge. Prestige. They wish to make an example of us."

"Supposing that you are correct," the wizard said, "what are we to do?"

Stelan frowned thoughtfully.

"I have a thought." Elyana pointed southeast to the dark outline of the woods that encroached upon the plain only a few miles out. "You can ride with Vallyn for the border. One horse. I'll take the rest of us south, into the Verduran Forest, and draw the Galtans after. We can lose them there."

"Absolutely not," Stelan told her. In answer to her probing look, he continued. "We were asked to free the girl. I cannot condone a detour into the forest when she is so very close to freedom. Our first duty is to her."

"What about Vallyn?" Elyana asked.

Stelan's frown deepened in consideration.

"You're thinking we have to lose one or the other, but my plan can save them both."

"It is a decent suggestion," Stelan admitted, "but you are lighter, and swifter. You should take Vallyn."

Arcil laughed shortly. "Elyana's three times the woodsman you are. Woodswoman. What have you. Her plan makes better sense than yours, and you know it. She'll run rings around a troupe of cityborn Galtans and lead us to safety after they're hopelessly lost."

"And what of you, and the girl?"

"We'll be fine," Elyana said. "We'll ride out with four horses with tracks so obvious they can't be missed."

"All the better, so they don't use magic to track us," Arcil said.

Stelan did not waste much longer making his decision. He stepped over as if to explain the matter to Vallyn, but the young man was already sleeping.

"What's going to happen?" Mirelle asked, looking back and forth between them.

Elyana spoke up. "We're going to give the Galtans an obvious track to pursue us, while Stelan's going to take Vallyn to a healer on our swiftest mount."

"Don't worry," Arcil said. He smiled in an awkward semblance of comfort, and ended up looking sly instead. "Elyana will lose them in the forest, and we'll ride safely away."

Elyana was pleased to note the girl's courage. Mirelle did not voice her worries, she merely nodded. "Will Vallyn be all right?"

"I will see to it," Stelan said.

He cast off his armor and extra gear while Elyana helped Mirelle strip Vallyn of all equipment but his lute. Stelan then climbed into the saddle and beckoned for Elyana and Arcil to hand up the bard, which they did.

The young man mumbled feebly at them before settling against Stelan's chest. The knight sat grim and statue-straight in the saddle. "May Abadar protect you," he said. He then locked eyes with Elyana. Stelan had never been comfortable with public displays of affection between them more prominent than handholding, and his long look was warning and farewell and an expression of deepest love all in one. After a moment he kicked his stallion into a start downslope, moving swiftly to a gallop. He passed the screen of flame and then darted southwest.

Elyana did her best to rub out the tracks, though she grew increasingly concerned about the Galtans. The grass was not dry enough beyond the rise to maintain the blaze, and without any real wind, the fire was dying. When Arcil, watching from the height of the hill, announced that he saw riders, she knew it was past time to leave. The wizard had notoriously bad eyesight.

She leapt into the saddle of her palomino gelding and urged the others to hurry. "Run them hard the whole of the way," she instructed. "And spread out. We want to show them as many clear tracks as possible."

"Have no fear," Arcil told her. Mirelle only dipped her head in acknowledgment. Elyana watched them ride off toward the dark bulk of the woods, leading Vallyn's riderless horse. She followed, halting only a hundred feet out to look back from a small rise. Already the hill where they'd made their stand seemed smaller. Beyond the long trail of dead hounds, feathered with arrow shafts, was a clump of blackened bodies. As unsettling as that was, she was even less pleased by the count of figures on the horizon. They rode at a trot, a swath of them numbering four dozen or more, the dust cloud kicked up by their travel stained red by the lowering sun. She hoped she had not oversold her prowess.

She clicked her tongue, and her horse shot down the slope and after the others, toward whatever the forest might bring.

Coming Next Week: A desperate ploy in Chapter Two of "The Walkers from the Crypt." This story is a standalone prequel to the new Pathfinder Tales novel Plague of Shadows, available now!

Howard Andrew Jones is the author of the newly released Pathfinder Tales novel Plague of Shadows. He's published one other novel, the new historical fantasy adventure The Desert of Souls, as well as edited eight collections of literary giant Harold Lamb's work, and currently serves as the Managing Editor for the iconic sword and sorcery magazine Black Gate. For more information, see his website at howardandrewjones.com.

Elyana Rides Again!

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

	Illustration by Eric Belisle

It's time to begin another story on Paizo's free web fiction Wednesday, and this time we have something new and different for you! In celebration of the release of Plague of Shadows, the new Pathfinder Tales novel, we've brought you a brand-new prequel story from Plague of Shadows author Howard Andrew Jones, featuring a number of the same characters but taking place well before the novel. Once again (or rather, once before) the Forlorn elf Elyana and her friends will encounter the evil of the Gray Gardeners in Galt—but this time there are the dark depths of the Verduran Forest to contend with as well. It's a pleasure to get to see characters from the novels in the web fiction, and we hope to do so each time a new novel releases—as well as sometimes just for fun.

As an author, Howard has knocked it out of the park. Early comments on Plague of Shadows have been extremely positive, and it's easy to see why. Perhaps it's the smooth speed with which he handles the fight scenes (and there are plenty), or the fast-paced sword and sorcery flavor (which is hardly surprising, given his status as Managing Editor of modern pulp magazine Black Gate). Yet even more than that, I think it's the classic feel of his stories that draw people in. Of all the novels we've published so far, Plague of Shadows is the one that most closely hews to the time-tested adventuring party dynamic. There's Elyana, the Forlorn elven ranger who knows her love for any human can never last; Drelm the honorable half-orc, struggling against his heritage; Vallyn the bard; Kellius the wizard—these are characters that feel familiar, even as they feel new.

And that's just the main party. Set many years earlier than the novel, this new story, "The Walkers from the Crypt," introduces us to the party that came before, and to the tensions that laid the novel's groundwork. But I don't want to spoil anything, so I'll stop there, and just say that it's a lot of fun.

I would also be remiss if I didn't note artist Eric Belisle's amazing illustration of Elyana, who also features on the cover of Plague of Shadows. Eric's perfectly captured the look and feel of an elven ranger from Golarion, and I hope you'll agree that the character in both the story and the novel are every bit as compelling as the illustration.

James Sutter
Fiction Editor

Pathfinder Tales: Plague of Shadows Sanctioned for Society Play

Monday, February 28, 2011

A short while ago we sanctioned the Pathfinder Modules Godsmouth Heresy and Cult of the Ebon Destroyers for use in Pathfinder Society play. This was a needed change to help expand play options for players and to strengthen the entire program. As we roll into March it's time for another change: the sanctioning of Pathfinder Tales novels for use in the Pathfinder Society.

Illustration by Darren Bader

The Pathfinder Tales novel Plague of Shadows has now been incorporated into the Pathfinder Society. This new option provides fans of the novels with an additional way to use content from the book in a sanctioned format. Because of the differences between reading a novel and playing a game, there are specific rules needed for using sanctioned content from a Pathfinder Tales novel during play and we'll be providing a Chronicle sheet for players to use with their characters. You can download this Chronicle by going here.

Sanctioned novels you ask? How do you sanction a novel? Because Pathfinder Tales novels are stories first, there is no easy way to sanction items, spells, feats, or other special abilities whole cloth. Therefore, Plague of Shadows Chronicle sheets use the following rules.

1. Only items, feats, boons, or abilities found on the Chronicle sheet are legal for play.
2. Each player must have a copy of the Chronicle sheet with his or her character at all times.
3. In order for the Chronicle sheet to be considered legal for play, the player must show to the GM a copy of Plague of Shadows, either in printed or digital format.

GMs are advised to work with players to make the sanctioning of Pathfinder Tales Chronicle sheets easy and fast. As long as the player has a copy of the book, she should be able to use the Chronicle sheet just like any other.

If you would like to learn more about Plague of Shadows or other novels in the Pathfinder Tales line, please visit paizo.com or your local bookstore. Other novels in the line include Prince of Wolves by former Dragon Magazine editor Dave Gross, Winter Witch by New York Times best-selling author Elaine Cunningham, and the forthcoming The Worldwound Gambit by gaming legend Robin D. Laws.

I'd love to hear your comments on this update to Society play. Please post them in the comments!

Hyrum Savage
Marketing and Organized Play Manager

Illustration by Daren Bader. Wallpaper design by Crystal Frasier. Widescreen version here.

A Plague on All Your Houses!

Friday, February 25, 2011

The latest Pathfinder Tales novel, Plague of Shadows, has started shipping to subscribers and stores. In this novel, written by sword and sorcery icon Howard Andrew Jones, the race is on to free Lord Stelan from the grip of a wasting curse, and only Elyana, his old elven adventuring companion and former lover, has the wisdom and reflexes to save him. When the villain turns out to be another of their former companions, Elyana and a band of ragtag adventurers must set out on a perilous race across the revolution-wracked nation of Galt and the treacherous Five Kings Mountains, bound for the mysterious Vale of Shadows. But even if they can succeed in locating the key to Stelan’s salvation in a lost valley of weird magic and nightmare beasts, the danger isn't over. For Elyana's companions may not all be what they seem.

Plague of Shadows is straight up old-school fantasy adventure. Bands of heroes race to complete a quest fighting dragons and other monsters along the way. This wallpaper showcases Elyanna fighting an umbral dragon (check out Bestiary 2 to see its stats!) inside the Vale of Shadows. To learn how the fight ends, pick up your copy of Plague of Shadows today either here at paizo.com or at your local bookstore.

Hyrum Savage
Marketing and Organized Play Manager

Half-Orcs and Sneak Previews!

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Illustration by Darren Bader

With the release date of Plague of Shadows, the new Pathfinder Tales novel, coming up fast, I thought it might be a good time to start stirring the pot with a little sneak preview in the form of a sample chapter as this week's installment of the weekly web fiction.

I really can't overstate how excited I am for this book to come out. Not only does it have what may be my favorite cover yet for the line, but it's also an old-school adventure in a way that Pathfinder Tales hasn't really seen so far. In Plague of Shadows, a team of adventurers featuring a Forlorn elf ranger, a civilized half-orc guard captain, an untested young noble, a retired bard, and a country bumpkin of a wizard must set off on a quest to retrieve an artifact in time to save their friend/father/liege lord who's been cursed. Sound familiar? It should—it's a classic quest setup that any gamer should recognize, and over the course of their adventure the party will be forced to deal with the chaos of revolutionary Galt, standoffish Kyonin elves, and the mysterious Vale of Shadows deep in the Five Kings Mountains. And yet while it's a time-honored trope with a generous helping of sword-and-sorcery flair (hardly surprising, given author Howard Andrew Jones's status as one of the foremost living editors and scholars of pulp fantasy), there's also plenty here that's new, and enough twists and turns to satisfy those readers with more complex tastes.

	Illustration by Eric Belisle

In addition, I'm also pleased to show off this brand-new illustration of one of the novel's main characters: Captain Drelm, a half-orc raised from his base roots by the glory of Abadar and determined to prove himself as a man of honor. I think you'll agree that artist Eric Belisle (the same man responsible for our excellent Radovan and Jeggare illustrations) has done a beautiful job capturing both aspects of Drelm's character. As we continue to introduce more novels in the Pathfinder Tales line, we're looking forward to ordering brand-new illustrations like this to go along with our sample chapters, giving you one more reason to check on the web fiction each Wednesday.

So get to it, already! Click here to read the new sample chapter of Howard Andrew Jones's Plague of Shadows, then scroll down to the comments section and let us know what you think!

James Sutter
Fiction Editor

Plague of Shadows Sample Chapter

by Howard Andrew Jones

Illustration by Darren Bader

Chapter Seven: Detours

Elyana dearly wanted to remain at rest in the feather bed, but she forced herself into motion as she heard a rooster crow. Every day, every hour, was counting against Stelan. She wasn’t entirely convinced that the cleric and his acolytes had the skill and stamina to keep Stelan going, and there was the added wrinkle that broth and water would have to be spooned carefully into his mouth to keep up his energy. He would be growing slowly weaker.

At dawn, the others found her already awake with Vallyn and helping to supervise the packing of supplies. The bard explained that he didn’t want to subject them to any more of Elyana’s cooking, so he was bringing plenty of food he himself could prepare.

A half-hour after breakfast they were on the road. Vallyn guided them northeast, where, he assured them, they’d be less likely to meet with a patrol than they were on a straight east jaunt, where lazier smugglers and refugees were apt to cross.

	Captain Drelm is a most unusual half-orc.

Kellius had a violet petunia in his cap, and reported that he had rarely seen one of such a bright color. Vallyn then set to asking the mage questions about flowers and gardens, and the young wizard expounded upon them for almost an hour, demonstrating more expertise than Elyana had expected. Drelm, of course, remained quiet. If anything, though, Renar looked more suspicious than the half-orc, and Elyana could get nothing out of him. Finally, Vallyn announced to them all that they’d crossed over from the plains of Taldor to Galt.

"How do you know?" the young man asked.

"See that mountain to the north?"

Renar followed the bard’s pointing finger to a snow-topped peak thrusting toward the clouds.

"I mark it."

"That’s Mount Rein. Our angle’s passed far enough that we’re over now, you can be sure. Not that a Galtan patrol wouldn’t chase you past the border if they didn’t like your look, mind you. Or send something worse after—eh, Elyana?"

"True."

"Why are the Galtans so ...mad?" Renar asked.

Vallyn answered before Elyana. "They’re not mad, boy. They’re angry."

"Well, they seem mad. First they kill their rightful rulers. Then they rise up every few years and guillotine whoever they put in place the last time."

"They’re impatient, is what they are," Vallyn said. "They won’t give anyone a chance to set the place in order. The old ones, the nobles, a lot of them had it coming. In my opinion," Vallyn added.

This was news to Elyana, and the bard must have sensed her surprise, for he hurried to explain.

"The Galtans went way too far," Vallyn said. "I’m not excusing what they did. I’m just saying that their government wasn’t exactly looking out for anyone’s interests but its own."

"It’s not a good place," Elyana said to Renar. "There are spies everywhere. We must tread lightly even in the wilderness."

Renar fell silent for only a moment. "What are we really going to do about Arcil?"

If this was what had truly been troubling him, he would find no comfort from Elyana now. This was neither the time nor the place for that particular discussion. "Nothing I’d discuss without wards against scrying in place," Elyana replied.

"He didn’t used to know that kind of thing," Vallyn said.

"He didn’t used to be able to crush a man with shadows, either. From a distance."

Vallyn whistled. He rode in silence for a long moment, then said: "I always told you he was going to go bad."

So he had. And still Elyana sometimes wondered if there was something she might have said or done differently to help Arcil find the right direction. She didn’t mean to mislead Vallyn or Renar, but she had no intention of admitting to them—or to Arcil, should he be listening—that she had no idea how to stop her old friend. She was still hoping she’d find something within the tower to aid her.

That night they set up camp in the Galtan wilderness and lit no fire, subsisting only on cold rations. Elyana arranged to take the middle watch, and lay down to rest. Sleep came quickly to her.

"Elyana."

She opened her eyes to find Kellius looking down at her. While his expression was calm, the wizard’s face was strained. The stars shone in a clear sky. It was deep into the night.

Kellius pretended calm. "There’s something out there. Something large. I saw it flying—"

"Wake Drelm first. Hurry."

"It’s circled twice," Kellius said as he moved off.

Large and winged. Elyana ran over the possibilities as she slipped feet into boots and buckled into her leather cuirass. She climbed up to search the sky.

Dragons, wyverns, and giant birds could all be found near the Five Kings mountain range. Galt’s constant chaos meant patrols and huntsman were not as plentiful as they once had been, and all manner of wild beasts had multiplied in the wilderness.

And there was always the chance that Arcil had sent something against them, calling it down from the peaks or even the Plane of Shadow.

She saw that the land was dark but for a distant light from the Galtan city of Woodsedge, miles to the south. Their camp sat under a scrubby stand of trees, which might explain why whatever it was had not dropped straight in.

The black wall of the Five Kings loomed on the western horizon. Elyana glanced briefly toward it, then looked skyward once more. It was then that she saw the draconic shape blotting out a swath of stars.

The reptile was long and large, with a serpentine neck thrust low. It glided on huge, batlike wings, its tail hanging stiff. Elyana saw that it had no arms and knew then that it was no true dragon, but a wyvern. She’d faced one once before, a creature half this size, and that had been no easy day. Its poisoned sting had put two men in the ground. Wyverns were powerful, relentless, and hungry.

This one swung toward her and lowered its wings for a dive.

"Wyvern!" she screamed in warning, then launched two arrows. Even as the first was still arcing into the air she was running forward. She threw herself into the tall grass and landed with a whuff that knocked the air out of her.

The first arrow slammed home just left of the wyvern’s breastbone, provoking a growl that was cut off as the second caught it high along its wing. Its hooked claws grabbed at the dashing humanoid, but Elyana was too swift.

The wyvern landed with an earth-shaking thump. Its snaky neck swung left and right as it considered its targets, its roar a piercing shriek so loud that Elyana felt a sympathetic vibration deep in her chest. She heard Renar call out to her in worry, but stayed low as the wyvern searched the air with its long snout, snuffling.

Drelm praised one gift from his cursed heritage, and that was the ability to see not only in dim light, but in the deepest black. The humans might see the wyvern as a dark, threatening shape with a long neck, but he saw the glint of its eyes, the muscles along its chest as it thundered toward him. He heaved his throwing axe and ran to meet the beast. But the wyvern had hunched as it built speed for a charge, and the weapon soared over its shoulder.

The winged lizard lowered its head, its mouth widening in a display of daggerlike fangs. Drelm knew a burning thrill of action in his veins, a searing strength that left little room for anything but rage and power. He met the wyvern’s strike with a sideways slash of his greataxe. The blow ripped into the side of the monster’s head, tearing through scales in a spray of blood. The wyvern’s teeth clamped down, narrowly missing Drelm’s chest.

Drelm dodged left, his hands barely retaining hold of the axe as he leapt away. There was a blanket of darkness as the wing fell over him, and then the beast’s tail lashed down. He caught sight of the long, long spike and rolled, but the thing slammed into his arm, penetrating armor, flesh, and bone. He roared not at the pain, but in anger, and climbed to his feet.

The wyvern somehow managed a swift stop. It spun, horned head twisting toward him. Drelm readied his axe, wondering why his right hand shook so.

A lightning blast underlit the beast’s scaly maw, casting its brow ridge in shadow. The thing convulsed, then threw back its head in a deep-throated roar.

So close was the wyvern’s head to Drelm when the wizard’s lightning struck that he saw the beast’s pupils shrink. Drelm raised his axe, snarling, then realized he was strangely dizzy. Dimly, he perceived that Renar was running into the fray. He heard the pluck of a lute, of all things, and Vallyn shouting for Renar to get back. Drelm agreed, and tried to tell the boy to stay clear, but couldn’t quite find the strength.

Then a screen of shifting motes of light fell between him and the wyvern. Drelm did not understand where it had come from, but it was very beautiful, and he wanted to do nothing more than study the slowly changing colors, except that he was already feeling rather sleepy. He sat down, conscious that his arm ached and that he wasn’t thinking clearly. For whatever reason, it all seemed unimportant.

Renar was two-thirds of the way to the monstrous, roaring beast when Vallyn told him to get back. But Renar wasn’t about to retreat and be accused of cowardice. It didn’t matter that he could practically feel his heart in his mouth, or that his pulse beat in his temples like a drum. He pledged to himself that he would not hang back while his friends struggled. His father would not have done so.

When the lovely rainbow screen dropped all about the wyvern, the creature’s head swiveled his direction and Renar halted, thinking the thing had seen him. Then he noticed its eyes tracking after an especially pretty shimmer of blue drifting to the right. Renar had seen sorcery before, but never anything like this. Kellius had talent.

Renar steeled himself and advanced to swing at the beast’s swaying neck. It was a glancing blow, but he’d connected. Somehow that granted him greater courage, and his second strike bit through the blue-black scales. The impact of it raced up through his arms, and he knew a savage exultation as blood spurted forth in dark rain.

He heard Elyana cry a warning. "Renar! Jump back!"

He was accustomed to obeying Elyana instantly—there was no room for hesitation when training horses. He did as bade, and the swinging tail and its bloody spike missed him by a handspan.

As the wyvern’s head rose, Renar saw two arrows blossom along its neck like gruesome spines.

"Run, boy!" he heard Vallyn shout, and he leapt back, watching that tail and the head that was suddenly no longer fascinated by the shining lights. A clawed wing swung down as he backpedaled, and then a blazing ball of fire struck that same wing, filling the air with the sound of sizzling and the smell of burned meat.

The wyvern roared again, and at close range, Renar’s ears rang at the sound. Smoke rose up from the flapping wing as the creature beat it rapidly to put out the flame.

Elyana raced up on its blind side, the long slim blade glittering in both hands. Renar saw the creature’s nostrils flare open. Its head turned.

The elf’s blow sliced deeply into the beast’s neck a foot back from its head. Renar shouted warning as the tail swung up and then down at her, but Elyana threw up her sword. The tail spike clanged against it, and Elyana staggered, then dropped to her knee.

"Back!" she called to Renar in a strained voice. He’d assumed her first neck blow would kill the thing, but the wyvern beat the grass with its wings. Dirt, dry leaves, and grit blew out, stinging the boy’s eyes.

Elyana stumbled backward, panting, and Renar went with her. The wyvern beat its wings once, twice, gave a little hop as though it meant to take flight, and then crashed into the earth.

Its wings fluttered, feebly, and its legs clawed at the grasses. Even after it stopped moving it moaned for several long minutes, in such a pitiful way that Renar actually felt a little sorry for it.

"Is it dead?" Kellius asked, trotting up. A ball of light floated just back of his left shoulder, and black smoke trailed up from the ends of the fingers on his right hand.

"Mostly," Elyana told him. "Stay back." She moved off into the dark. Renar followed.

Elyana found Drelm lying still in the grass, his breathing swift and shallow. As if that weren’t a clear enough indicator of what had happened, the plate armor about his right arm was bashed in around a slim hole that leaked blood across the plate, the chain sleeve beneath it, and the tabard that covered both.

Poison. She had no cure for poison.

"Get Vallyn," she told Renar without turning. The young man dashed away as she bent down, centering her focus. There was a slim chance that the bard had learned greater healing magic in the intervening years. Certainly Arcil had improved—perhaps Vallyn had as well.

Elyana centered her focus with a deep breath. She lowered both hands to the wound and extended her spirit.

The injury was deep and painful, plunging through nearly the whole of the musculature, right down to the bone. The half-orc’s arm was more than twice as thick as hers. She wondered if the spike would have passed all the way through hers.

She sealed the upper layers of his flesh first, so that the blood ceased its egress from the body, and then set to work lacing the muscles together. She was not as practiced nor as polished with more challenging wounds, but she knew that the injury was most of the way knitted. The real problem was the weakness caused by the poison. It marched slow and steady through his bloodstream like a procession of mourners halfway up the cliff to where they would inter the body.

"Looks like we’d best start digging," she heard Vallyn say beside her, and she snapped out of her trance.

The bard’s lute was slung once more on his back. His nightshirt was rumpled, his hair mussed, and Elyana was surprised by how much older he seemed.

"He’s poisoned," Elyana said quickly to him. "Are your healing magics—"

"I don’t know poisons, Elyana." The bard cursed and passed a hand through his hair. "I never thought I’d be burying an orc," he finished, sounding bemused.

"We’re not burying him," Elyana said, rising. She did not remind him, again, that Drelm was a half-orc. She considered the horizon, and the distant point of light that was Woodsedge.

"He’s not dead already, is he?" Renar asked, dismayed. "Isn’t there something we can do? And what do you mean we aren’t going to bury him? He deserves a proper burial—"

Vallyn talked over Renar, paying him no heed. "That’s a Galtan city, Elyana. Even if they didn’t want to shoot you and me on sight, there’s no way any healer would help Drelm. He looks too much like an orc."

"We can get him to a temple of Abadar."

"He’ll be dead before we can make it," Vallyn countered.

"Not if we take a shadow ride," Elyana answered.

Vallyn winced. "A plague on shadows. You’d be mad to try."

She stared at him, hard, and he looked down.

"When I last saw you," she said, still staring at him, "you were working on spells that altered your appearance. Do you know them still?"

Vallyn nodded, reluctantly at first, then added a pleased little shrug. "I’ve gotten pretty good at it, if truth be told."

"Can you alter someone else?"

Kellius and Renar looked back and forth between them, wondering at the length of time it took Vallyn to reply.

"I can," he said. "But I can’t alter us all. Only one."

"One will have to do."

"But there’s three of us needing disguise."

"Two." Elyana produced an amulet from her pouch. "I have a little help from Arcil." So saying, she lifted the necklace and clasped it around her neck. Instantly Kellius beheld the face of the thin-nosed, arrogantly handsome man who’d confronted them in the ruins.

"Arcil!" Vallyn cried.

"He left this on the body of his apprentice," she said, astonished that her own voice had now taken on the haughty, male precision of her former friend. "Listen to me!" she said. Despite everything, amusement rang in her voice. "He’s very good."

"He’s very bad," Vallyn countered.

"Is this wyvern his work?" Kellius asked.

"Probably," Vallyn said. "It’d be like him. If he were listening and thought we had him pegged to attack after we found the crown, he might’ve sent the thing just to show us up."

"Wyverns are common in the mountains," Elyana noted.

"I know we’ve little time," Kellius said quickly, "but I have one more question. It’s clear the Galtans want you two dead. Arcil rode with you. Won’t they recognize his face?"

"Arcil was always good with concealment magic," Vallyn said. "I don’t think any Galtan that lived ever saw his real face."

Elyana faced the bard. "Set a spell on Drelm so we can be on our way."

Vallyn shook his head. "I’m still wanted there, remember?"

"When’s the last time you were on a wanted poster, Vallyn? Do you look the same?"

Vallyn’s hesitation seemed to indicate more surely than anything else that her point struck home. But he nodded. "They know me even better than you, Elyana."

"Very well." She undid the necklace and passed it over her head, changing in an instant back to her true form and voice. "You wear it. I shall wear a hood. Place your spell on Drelm."

Vallyn considered her, then let the amulet sink into his palm, the chain dangling between his fingers. "He’s probably not going to live," Vallyn cautioned. "This is—"

"The sooner we get moving," Elyana said coolly, "the better his chances. Cast your spell."

Vallyn thrust the necklace into an upper pocket on his shirt. He unslung his lute and stepped over to the prone captain.

In moments the bard was plucking at strings, singing a simple little melody, his voice rich and thoughtful. Drelm’s features wavered and blurred, and Elyana suddenly found herself regarding a pale fighting man with dark hair. He did not look so much a different man as he did an image of what Drelm would have been if the orc blood were somehow stripped away. Fangs vanished, the brow ridge faded, the ears shrank down. He was still thick and muscular, but even in rest was somehow more peaceful.

"There he is," Vallyn said, a touch of pride in his voice. "It’ll hold for a few hours. After that—they’ll have a half-orc on their hands."

"He might be dead before then," Elyana told him.

They worked quickly to saddle the horses and gather their gear. Even so, it was not swiftly enough, and Elyana twice checked Drelm’s pulse, so concerned was she that they were wasting time.

She herself held Drelm, knowing that she could trust Persaily to carry the extra weight and travel the strange terrain. She hoped she could likewise trust the mare to carry them through the Plane of Shadow. To the others she gave the lead lines of one pack animal each, hoping they were skilled enough to manage their beasts and lead another, then set her mind upon the ring and called forth the shadows.

Coming Next Week: The first installment in Monte Cook's new story about a man who talks to swords in "The Ghosts of Broken Blades."

Howard Andrew Jones is the Managing Editor of sword-and-sorcery icon Black Gate Magazine, the primary editor responsible for bringing pulp master Harold Lamb's historical fiction to a modern audience, and a respected fantasy author in his own right. His first non-Pathfinder novel, The Desert of Souls, releases this February from St. Martin's imprint Thomas Dunne Books. For more of his short stories and essays, see blackgate.com and howardandrewjones.com—for the rest of Plague of Shadows, pre-order now!

Art by Eric Belisle.