was craggy and rough, the stony ground cracked and covered with jagged rocks. The only signs of life were tufts of dry grass that had managed to shove their way through the narrow fissures in the ground, along with twisted, gnarled trees that looked as if they'd never grown leaves or borne fruit, regardless of the season. Though Ghaji had no priestly training, he was half-orc and thus strongly attuned to the natural world, and all his senses were screaming that there was nothing natural about this place-nothing at all.
'We might be better off if we went back to the ship.' Ghaji said.
Diran considered Ghaji's words. 'You make a good point, but it's difficult to know how stable the Coldhearts' ship is after running aground. It might well collapse under us in the middle of a battle.'
Ghaji glanced back at the Maelstrom. The ship listed to starboard, and there was a large hole near the bow, but otherwise the vessel looked as if she would hold together well enough. Diran had grown up in the Principalities and therefore knew far more about sea-going than Ghaji did, so the half-orc decided to defer to his friend's judgment.
Diran gazed inland and scowled. 'Besides, if there's evil here, it is our duty to seek it out and destroy it.'
Ghaji sighed. 'I hate it when you say things like that.'
The half-orc gripped the haft of his axe more tightly. He wasn't about to activate it now. Doing so would give away their location to whatever might be lurking on the island, and the light would also render his night vision almost useless. They'd proceed with stealth for now, and Ghaji would ignite the axe's flame when necessary.
Diran exchanged his steel dagger for a silver one, and the two companions began walking. Ghaji kept an eye out for threats while Diran, who only had the extremely limited nocturnal sight of a human, remained close to his friend and followed his lead. Ghaji knew that Diran wasn't without other resources to draw on, however. His training as assassin had taught him to pay close attention to all his senses, not just sight. Diran was doubtless listening for any noises beyond the pounding of the surf against the shore, scenting the wind for any smells in addition to the tang of sea salt, feeling for vibrations juddering through the rocky ground beneath his boots with every step… Diran might not have orc blood in him, but thanks to the training he'd gained at Emon Gorsedd's academy, the priest's senses were honed to as fine an edge as that possessed by any of his blades.
Diran had his priestly powers to draw upon as well. When Diran said he sensed evil, he wasn't speaking metaphorically, nor was he expressing the vague sensation that intuitive people sometimes had in dangerous situations. As one of the Purified, Diran sensed evil with the same clarity and certainty as someone else might see an object placed directly in front of their eyes.
They walked for some time across Demothi's barren landscape without encountering any signs of life beyond the dry grass and twisted trees dotting the island. No animals, no birds, no lizards-nothing-yet Ghaji couldn't shake the feeling that numerous eyes were monitoring their progress-malicious, hungry eyes.
Ghaji was so caught up in his thoughts that he nearly jumped when Diran spoke.
'This is it-the place where the evil that permeates this island is centered.'
Diran pointed toward a dark object silhouetted against the night sky. The object was perhaps six, seven feet tall and wrought in the rough shape of a man. Ghaji was no priest, but now that they were this close, he could feel the waves of malevolent power emanating from the man-shaped obelisk.
'What is it?' Though he didn't intend to, Ghaji spoke in a hushed voice.
'I'm not sure. I'm not as familiar with the legends of this part of the Principalities as I am with others. Still, I vaguely recall reading something once about a dark priest who sailed to an island… a priest who was transformed into stone.' Diran stepped closer to the stone figure to examine it. Ghaji made to accompany his friend, but Diran held up a hand to stop him.
'I appreciate your willingness to follow me, Ghaji, but it's best if only I approach.'
Though he knew Diran was only taking a precaution, and a sensible one at that, Ghaji nevertheless felt a surge of anger at the suggestion he hang back. Remaining out of harm's way while a companion strode forth into danger was not the orc way, and it wasn't Ghaji's.
As if sensing his friend's feelings, Diran said, 'Please. If this object is as powerful as I suspect, I'll need all my skill and power just to protect myself. I won't be able to safeguard us both.'
Ghaji wanted to argue that he could look after himself just fine, thank you, but in the end he recognized the wisdom of Diran's words, gritted his teeth, and nodded.
Diran gave his friend a grateful smile before turning and walking toward the stone figure once more. Ghaji remained standing where he was, but he kept his axe at the ready, prepared to command it to burst into flame the instant anything even looked as if it was about to go wrong.
When he was within a foot of the statue Diran stopped, raised his free hand, and held it above the stone surface of the figure. Formed of the same dark rocky substance as the island, it didn't look as if it had been carved so much as arisen naturally from the surface of Demothi. While the statue possessed rudimentary human features- head, torso, arms, and legs-from the knees down it was nothing more than a mound of rock. The eyes were its most striking feature. Glittering black gems as large as an egg protruded from the statue's stony sockets.
'This is indeed the center of the evil on Demothi,' Diran said. 'The power radiates from this figure down through the ground and then spreads throughout the entire island, perhaps even extending for some distance beyond its shores, but for what purpose, I cannot say.'
Ghaji heard a shuffling noise from behind him, and he whirled around to see what had caused it, elemental axe erupting in flame as he spun. The sudden light from his blazing weapon momentarily rendered his night vision useless, but his eyes quickly adjusted, and he saw a staggering humanoid shape lurching out of the night toward them. The creature was a bloated, wet thing, flesh puffy and discolored, body draped with dangling strands of seaweed. Its eyes and tongue were long gone, in their place clusters of tiny crabs that used the dead thing's skull as a home. The rancid stink of the creature assaulted Ghaji's nose-a sour reek of saltwater, dead fish, and rotting vegetation. It was fortunate that the half-orc hadn't eaten lately, because the gagging stench would've caused him to empty the contents of his stomach right then and there.
'Walking dead man,' Ghaji said. He relaxed a bit upon seeing the undead creature shambling toward them. He'd encountered such creatures during his time as a soldier in the Last War, and he'd fought even more alongside Diran since then, though offhand he couldn't remember seeing any quite as disgusting as this one. Still, the living corpses, while unpleasant, were easy enough to dispatch. Diran could always repell the creature with his priestly powers, and if for some reason that didn't suffice, Ghaji's axe would make fast work of it.
'Don't you mean dead men?' Diran asked.
For a moment, Ghaji didn't understand what his friend was talking about. Then he noticed that the water- logged zombie wasn't alone. He'd brought some friends with him-several dozen, from the look of it. Ghaji squinted as he peered into the night beyond his axe's fiery illumination. Make that several hundred. The half-orc turned in a slow circle and saw that an entire army of walking dead was coming toward them from all directions, shuffling, stumbling, moving with spastic, jerky motions as if they were ill-fashioned marionettes controlled by a puppeteer with severe arthritis. While they varied in size and race-humans, elves, dwarves, shifters, gnomes, changlings-they were all in the same bloated, wet condition as the first zombie Ghaji had seen.
'It would appear that Demothi Island is a trap of sorts,' Diran said, his tone emotionless and cool. 'The undead wait underwater off shore, and once visitors reach the center of the island and are cut off from their vessel, the foul things rise forth to slay them. Clever.'
'You'll forgive me if I don't share your admiration,' Ghaji said. 'Please tell me that you can repell a horde of zombies.'
'We'll find out.' Diran still held a silver dagger in one hand, and with the other he reached into a tunic pocket and brought forth the arrowhead-shaped object that was the symbol of his order. He held the silver arrowhead out toward the closest of the advancing sea-zombies and the metal glowed with an aura of blue-white light.
'In the name of the Silver Flame, I command you to turn aside!' Diran's voice boomed out, far louder than normal. Ghaji wouldn't have been surprised to learn the priest's words could be heard echoing across the entire island.
Several of the undead creatures stopped, hesitated, then resumed shambling forward.
Diran scowled. The aura shimmering around the silver arrowhead blazed more brightly, and this time when he spoke, his voice was loud as thunder.
'Be gone!'
The zombies didn't even pause.
