As the creatures advanced, Taen could make out the dim outline of black robes flowing with each incorporeal step. There were six of them, floating silently down the road like nightmares. Even in his panic, Taen noted that the last one held a scepter in one hand while a gilded crown wreathed its shrouded head.

Roberc struggled to draw his weapon as Cavan backed away from the oncoming wraiths. The war-dog whined and yelped in a high-pitched tone as his rider fought for control.

"Enough," Marissa said at last through clenched teeth. Lifting her staff high into the air, she intoned a brief prayer. Immediately the chill disappeared, replaced by warmth and the sweet fragrance of a spring evening. Taen nearly stumbled as the terror drained from his body.

"Quick, everyone form a circle," Taen shouted. "Don't let them surround you."

As they fell into formation, the half-elf grabbed Selov and pulled him into the center of their position. Once the innkeeper was secured, the half-elf raised both hands into the air and uttered the words to a spell. At first, he stumbled over the torturous pronunciation but soon found the rhythm of the arcane formula. Of all the disciplines of magic, none were as distasteful to him as necromancy. Even when the spell worked against the forces of undeath, it still left its mark, like a bruise upon the soul. There were powers in the world, he knew, best left untouched. Still, their need was great, so as he finished the spell, Taen thrust out both arms, as if embracing the oncoming wraiths. A soft, golden radiance emanated out from the space between his arms, enveloping the advancing creatures. As the light struck the wraiths, they recoiled as if struggling against a tremendous wind. When at last the mystical light faded, three wraiths remained frozen, enveloped in a thin cocoon of golden energy.

At that moment, Marissa took a single step forward and shouted a supplication to her god. Immediately, a brilliant column of flame roared into existence, consuming one wraith in a coruscating shower of fire.

With a single command to Cavan, Roberc broke rank and charged at an oncoming wraith. The war-dog danced nimbly to one side as the undead creature thrust out a shadowy hand, allowing Roberc an opening with his sword. His blade gleamed in the dying moonlight before it plunged into the wraith's form-to little effect. The weapon simply passed through.

Roberc cursed but kept the wraith busy as Borovazk moved into a flanking position. The ranger's warhammer and sword moved in a deadly dance. Both struck the wraith hard, causing ripples in the creature's form.

Taen had time to watch his friends' battle only for an instant. Confident that they could hold their own, he returned his attention to the crown-bearing wraith now looming before Marissa. The druid fell back, barely avoiding the wraith's attack as the undead creature swung its scepter in a wide arc. It gave a soft moan, like the wind whistling through an empty graveyard, before pressing forward.

Taen loosed a series of magical bolts from his fingertips, hoping that the arcane missiles would distract the creature. The creature shuddered as the energy struck its form, but it continued to advance toward Marissa. Desperately, she swung the length of her staff at the creature. Pure white energy erupted at the point of contact, causing the wraith to fall back in pain. It glared at her from the depths of its red eyes but made no further move to advance.

Borovazk's cry of pain and anger drew Taen's attention. He watched in horror as a wraith withdrew its long, black arm from within the ranger's chest. Roberc beat madly at the undead monster with the edge of his blade, but his opponent remained focused on the wounded Rashemi. Without thought, Taen summoned the words to another spell. When he had finished, a single bolt of blue lightning sped from his outstretched hand to strike the wraith. It shuddered like an unfurling sail in the midst of a gale wind before fading out of existence.

Too late, Taen realized that casting his spell left him vulnerable to attack by the wraith lord. He managed to stumble away from the creature's first swing, but it quickly followed through with a thrust from its outstretched arm.

Taen gasped as the wraith's long fingers passed through the skin of his neck and reached deep into his being. Instantly, the world spun away, replaced by a thick haze of gray fog. He stumbled forward, anxious to find his companions, trying to avoid the follow-up blow that would surely fall, but the fog swirled around him, filling his lungs. Taen's chest burned. His heart had stopped beating, and was replaced by a single ball of white ice that sat in his chest like a lodestone. Choking and retching, he nearly didn't hear the woman's voice that called out to him from the depths of the fog.

"Murderer!" it shouted, and again, "Murderer!"

Taen wanted to protest, to deny the accusation, but he knew the truth. He was a murderer. Talaedra's face formed in the fog swirling around him.

"Murderer." This time several voices accused him-then several hundred, until the air reverberated with the word-"murderer."

"Talaedra!" he shouted-then knew no more.

Marissa's blood froze in her veins when she saw Taenaran fall beneath the wraith's attack. Fear and anger rose within her at the thought that he might be dead. She gripped the Staff of the Red Tree tightly and swung it with all her strength at the stooped form of the feeding wraith. Power flowed through the staff once again as it struck the undead monster, but this time the impact caused the wood of the staff to ignite with a flaring blast of silver energy. Whatever she had done had awakened life from deep within the wood. She could feel the whispering voice in her mind grow stronger, more urgent, until it nearly shouted ancient wisdom and ancient wrath.

Marissa fought it while she could, but the voice overcame her. For a moment, she knew the terrible power held within the still-living branch of the Red Tree, knew how to tap into it and how to unleash it on the world.

A moment was all she needed.

Raising the staff high into the air, she brought its heel down hard on the earth, singing the words to an ancient song in a voice both her own and not her own. The ground trembled. Light exploded from the artifact, as bright as the searing light of noon at High Summer. It filled the road with its blinding rays, and against its elemental force, the wraiths had no defense. In a flash of darkness, they imploded, leaving only the memory of death behind.

Then, as suddenly as it had flared into existence, the light winked out, and darkness descended like a shroud upon the trade road.

Selov was the first to recover.

"By all the gods and the wisdom of the elders," he whispered in obvious amazement. "What have you done?"

Marissa was tired, almost too tired to stand.

"I am not sure," she said wearily, "and right now I don't care." She forced her body to move toward the fallen half-elf. "Is he-?"

"He is alive," Selov said, examining Taen carefully.

"So is Borovazk," called out Roberc.

Relief flooded through her body, giving a lift to her wearied spirit.

"Then we must hurry to the well," Marissa said. "I fear that our friends need help that only the wychlaran can provide."

Or withhold, she thought cynically.

In the distance, a lone wolf sang mournfully to the dying moon.