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	Smoke and ash clogged the hazed air, intermingling with the stench of burning flesh and pine, enough to cast even the hardiest of men coughing and spluttering. Despite this, and their waning shield of flame the two men raised their swords in salute, recognizing the selflessness of their salvation and the courage required for one to act in such decisive haste. They knew not the Quester, nor her companion and yet she rushed to provide aid, increasing their chances tenfold and decreasing their foes’ count by the same. Her bold words spoken in familiar tongue gave fresh life to their weary limbs and reinvigorated their mettle. Setting their torches alight the cohorts made good their advantage afforded to them by the feminine knight. Leaping clear of the encircling fire, they fell upon the remains of the decayed, setting to with sword and axe to clear a path. Corbric led their desperate advance, his powerful bardiche laying waste to all opposition while his burning torch warded away the swarms advance. Nimson to his credit fought with all the ferocity of his ancestors, his sword cleaving down those who sought to flank the Seeker, and his torch condemning his many victims to a fiery existence.

	Bespattered in the gore of their adversaries the two men broke through the enemy lines, finding themselves alive and in awe at being so. Though their shattered opponents did not fear the bite of steel, they found to their detriment that when they lacked high numbers the scout and seeker could batter them aside as the plow would soft earth. Denied their kill they hissed and moaned, unwilling to progress alone towards the torches the living men held aloft. Yet, in defiance of total defeat the decayed rallied, their unshod feet cracking the bones of their fallen as they hemmed in upon the battle worn duo.

	Enjoying their brief respite Corbric and Nimson moved at a swift pace, withdrawing deeper into the forest. Corbric kept alert, and he watched as the brilliant glow of the Quester’s weapon shone through the trees, brighter even then the noon day’s sun but dimming all the while. Their flight meant nothing without a destination, and Corbric began to realize this as they drew further from the Questor. The enemy would soon overcome them by sheer numbers, and Corbric knew not the path to take. His decision was made for him when the gathered enemy attacked once more in quantity, forcing them to reengage in melee. “Hear me and take heart,” Corbric called to Nimson over the clatter of arms. Changing course he proceeded in the direction of their rescuer’s light, bidding Nimson follow. “I saw upon her chest, there inscribed the emblem of the seekers. Perhaps she too hath been called to the monastery and by good fortune stumbled upon us in our time of need. Might we wander these thorny wastes for eternity and never find our way? In prevention we must trail her light, and plead by the Herald’s Blessing she saves us twice this fateful day.”

	Whether Nimson wished to debate this strategy or not remained unknown, for the lad could barely think for himself let alone formulate a rational response or solution. Receiving no protest from the scout Corbric marched onward in stoic resolve, refusing to be bettered by the frenzied throng that sought his demise. Perforating the chest of a person decayed he brought down his torch upon its head, engulfing it in fire. Wrenching free his weapon the guardsman moved on to his next antagonist, hewing clean its head from its shoulder’s. No crimson blood spouted from these fallen, for it had drained into their lower extremities. Nevertheless specks of putrefied gore clung to Corbric’s blade and armor leaving him soiled by the unmistakable signs of war. Their efforts proved valiant, and their weariness not in vain for upon the twelfth decayed he struck low Corbric stumbled upon the Questor and her squire, still leading the ever growing decomposing mass like a warlord at the head of a vast, undead army.

	“Hail fair knight, tis those who owe thee a great favor and debt. For our lives may well have been naught without thy brave deeds.” He called, signaling their presence lest the knight skewer them with a thrown javelin. Expending the last of their energy the two men cut down the few decayed that barred their passage from their angle of approach, joining the Questor beneath her beacon of dazzling illuminance. Their own spluttering torches seemed dull in comparison but they held them high all the same. “Might we join thee fellow Seeker, to combine our forces and improve upon our chances in surviving this bitter twilight? Dare I presume to know thy destination? We hath sought in vain to find the Vicar and her monastery, and I ask doth thy presence here also be by her summons?”

	“Better the reign in Hell.” Nimson provided, envisaging the Questor might deem them untruthful. Their next words however were cut short by the thunder of hooves as riders broke from the darkness and charged full tilt, smashing into the enemy like tidal waves upon the shore. “[i]Massulvier herr Sucher,[/i]” Nimson cried, grasping Corbric by the shoulder. “Thy fire hath brought man, women, and horse from every corner of this decadent forest. Might we see an Arabian sultan, or gilded elves arrive next?”[/color]