The Skeleton Queen

Death Dance

Thundering hooves slow down to an abrupt halt. They paw at the ground, refusing to take another step forward.

"Whoa! Whoa! Easy girl," one of their masters says. He pets his horse's mane to calm her down, but she backs up to turn away from what's ahead of them. In the land of Span, a barren wasteland surrounded by a thick fog.

The man with red fletching arrows jumps off to hold her by the reins. He firmly plants his boots onto the border where life and death mingled. His brown eyes gaze into her eyes to give her strength.

"I know you're scared. I am too."

"I'm not, Drago," his battle companion growls with his helper behind him. The heavyset green orc with a black stripe over each eye crosses his arms in defiance, but it's all an act. He wants to stop his body from shaking against his silver armor. What doesn't help is a mutter of whispers besides him.

He bangs his hand against his armored knee. "Can't you say that more quietly?!"

The almost bald man with a long ponytail looks up from praying over his beaded necklace. "Sorry. It helps me."

A gentle hand on his orange toga has him turn his head. A warm smile from the woman with sapphire eyes gives him some peace.

"Let him be, Uruk! I know we signed up for this mission, but this new threat is different," the mage in an icy blue parka argues.

He scoffs. "Huh, I didn't know you and Anzan were that close."

"She saved my life and I saved hers. Why aren't we close?" the monk naively asks.

"He meant that we act like lovers," the mage clarifies.

"Oh. I cherish our friendship more than anything else, Hiela. I'm glad you're here with me," Anzan smiles.

"And I'm glad to be here with you." She gives him a peck on the cheek which he returns.

"So that confirmed it," Uruk chuckles.

"That's a custom from my culture," Hiela asserts with a stare.

He sighs slowly. "I apologize for assuming."

Drago takes out an apple from his knapsack to feed his horse. She takes a big bite out of the crisp honey apple. He lets her take another big bite before tossing it to the empty ground. The reported rumors are proven correct as the apple rots down to its core, turning to a midnight black.

Their horses rear up from the horror of that sight. But their riders keep them steady. Drago shushes her with a lullaby he learned from a friend. She lays her head on his shoulder out of appreciation.

"Let's eat up before we go in," the archer suggests. Their helpers assemble their equipment for them as they survey the land.

Two other things occupy the desolate wasteland. A lifeless tree and the decaying castle that sits in the middle of the land. 

After eating, Drago prays while touching the right side of his shoulder. An embroidered patch of a red lion. "Give me strength. I will shoot in your honor. Let's play cards again, William."

They cross over the border without their horses and helpers. They traverse in the fog while only seeing the outlines of the others. They're all used to it from their collective experience, but their hearts thud as one as they get closer.

Hiela and Drago stay in the back to provide support while Uruk and Anzan are in front. Uruk brings out his two-handed Warhammer ready to bash the brains out of the target. Hiela materializes some knives made of sleek ice with a whisper while Anzan's hands glow a wispy red.