The Wizard Daelardgalon, clad in his signature purple robes and traditional pointed wizard hat with wide brim, was growing more irritated with each step.
He had been working with a new spell and now that he had opened the scroll, he only had so much time to complete his research. Somehow he had let his old friend, the druid Ehruldrion, drag him along on some foolish quest.
Now here he was, trudging through absolutely frigid night air in the middle of some horrible northern wilderness, going over what he’d already learned in his mind as he walked, trying to be sure he was building the scaffolding of understanding that would enable him to unlock this new power. After miles of hiking, finally the druid decided on a place to camp. A small islet set some distance from the shore in an icy lake. For the druid and the wizard, it was easy enough to reach; but once there, they would be able to see anything coming a long way off. Between the two of them there was little to fear.
Once set up, the druid polymorphed into a large owl like bird and flew off into the night, hunting suitable food. The wizard settled down to study as best he could, hindered of course by being outdoors, away from his library and laboratory. Still perhaps the night was not a total loss; he would back at his chambers tomorrow, and would still have a few days to unlock these secrets.
Suddenly the freezing water around him erupted in an icy volcano, and an odd creature leaped to the shore.
It looked like it had been human once, long ago. Its bare skull looked out from an ancient helm, and its bony hands gleamed in the cold starlight as they waved a long slender sword of black metal. Strips of tabard still clung to its bare ribs; its eyes burned with white pinpoints that seemed farther away the longer you looked.
It spoke, or tried to speak. The sound was a mangled, wet imitation of some ancient tongue the wizard couldn’t guess at. He tried to speak in turn, but it was evident the skeletal warrior was also unable to comprehend.
There were a few more exchanges like this, as the wizard began to think of how he could prepare a spell without seeming aggressive, while the creature grew evidently more and more angry at their inability to communicate.
Then, with the speed of lightning’s bite, the sword cut into the wizard’s flesh. Taken off guard by the sudden strike, he still managed to return a savage bolt that sent his assailant reeling. He had underestimated his foe, however. This was not some normal skeleton or zombie he was facing, but something much stronger.
Magical bolts of various colors flew from Daelardgalon’s fingers, but though they damaged his opponent it wasn’t enough. In brief moments, the wizard lay at the edge of the islet, slipping off the edge and sinking slowly into the dark icy waters.
The druid saw the battle from the far side of the lake, and flew with the speed of a soaring peregrine to render aid; yet still by the time he reached the island, the only inhabitant was the campfire, crackling in the still night.
Weeks later, the wizard awoke, under a dark smothering bed of water. His magic had saved him again. With great effort, he managed to teleport to a safer location. The druid was long gone; so be it. His chance of unraveling the spell was gone as well. This grieved him deeply. He felt betrayed and abandoned, and confused. He was almost sure that the druid had known about the attacker, and left him alone on purpose, to be slain. It made little sense, but something about the attack left him suspicious.
