When the Queen Boar decided that plowing through the treeline towards our position was the best idea, I was expecting the three of us to withdraw. After all, according to them, Queen Boars weren't supposed to be able to stand in the first place, let alone run.
Yet run it did. And instead of withdrawing, the brothers struck. Therefore I did as well.
Gallant and I jumped away from its path as the massive boar plowed through, toppling and uprooting trees as it went. Valiant moved from his branch before its tree fell down, using his grappling hook to pull himself onto another.
The queen boar squealed as it reeled against its initial charge, snorting in anger as it gazed back at us. Interestingly, it focused its gaze on me.
As its eyes landed on my person, a wave of anger swept its eyes. The orange around its pupils turned red as the pupils themselves began to swirl. There was something else afoot here and I wasn't having it.
I glared back at the creature, readying myself for another charge. But before it could run towards us, Valiant soared from the branches above, striking the creature on its back with his sword. Blood sputtered from the wound as Valiant sunk his sword deeper into its flesh. The boar squealed and reeled once more, jumping and turning in an attempt to remove Valiant from its back. However, the beastkin clung firmly onto his sword, using it as an anchor as the creature rampaged into the trees.
"Hang on, brother!" Gallant said with bow and arrow ready. He pulled at the strings and aimed. Whistling against the chaos, Gallant let loose his arrow.
The arrow zipped through the air and struck the queen in the eye, surprising the boar and myself. Not even an elf could be that accurate against a target as frantic as the one he was facing, not unless they were experts.
I expected Gallant to be a good marksman, but I did not expect him to be an excellent one.
The beastkin gave me a wink as he pulled another arrow. He must have seen my surprise. As he did that, Valiant struck again with his sword, pulling it out before slicing at the boar's exposed back. The blue fox remained firm on the boar, sinking his claws into its skin to prevent himself from falling.
As Valiant took another swing, a second arrow zipped past and struck the queen in the snout. I wasn't sure if Gallant missed or if he was intentionally aiming at the nose. Regardless, it struck true. The boar was squealing in pain, its belly bulging and stretching with each frantic move.
"How is it keeping itself together?" I asked as I readied myself. I was expecting a harder fight for the brothers, but I guessed it was better this way.
"It shouldn't even be standing," Gallant said as he loaded another arrow, "The last time we saw a queen boar do this, its guts spilled out!"
I looked at him with a confused look, "Didn't you say they couldn't stand?"
"That's the reason why they couldn't, or shouldn't. It doesn't matter," He let loose the arrow, "Let's just kill it."
I nodded. The arrow struck its forehead as it was swirling about, possibly piercing its skull. Valiant still clung on its back, riding it like some sort of frightened horse. Unlike a frightened horse ridden by a concerned rider, the blue fox was a cold- hearted butcher slicing and thrusting away at its flesh.
Blood poured from its wounds like a fountain, creating a puddle of red underneath its feet. Bits and pieces of flesh flew around as arrows zipped by. I watched in silence as the two brothers tore it with impunity.
That didn't last long however. The queen boar tumbled and rolled, surprising Valiant as he jumped away, narrowly avoiding getting crushed under its weight.
Its swollen belly finally gave out as stretched skin tore itself from its limbs. Its stomach and womb all but spilled out, revealing its insides and the offspring it once held in an avalanche of gore. It was a disgusting display of desperation. The smell of rot was quick to rise, assaulting our nostrils with its putrid stench.
"Ancestors..." Gallant frowned, covering his snout as Valiant landed beside him.
"This is bad." Valiant said, doing the same.
I looked at the two brothers. They didn't seem tired, not even Valiant who had done the most. Yet I could see they were worried. Tense shoulders, focused glares, they were unsure what this meant.
The queen boar was screaming in pain as it flailed inside its own pool of blood, kicking away flesh and dead boars.
"It should be dying now, yes?" I asked with doubt. I readied myself, stretching my arms into a pose as I held the shortsword.
"It should be. But it's still going!" Gallant said as he loaded another arrow. The queen boar wasn't showing any signs of stopping or slowing down. That wasn't good.
Valiant growled, holding his sword high and ready near his chest, "It should have already bled out by now."
Indeed it should have. The life from its once reddened eyes was all but drained, replaced by a murky white color.
Yet the queen squealed. It squealed as it struggled to stand, spilling out most of its organs as it finally found its footing. Then I saw it, a black stream of magic. It sprouted from the gaping wounds of the boar and swirled around.
"By our ancestors..." Gallant and his brother couldn't believe what they were witnessing. But I could.
The queen boar was now standing, blood and flesh dripping out of its gaping stomach. A black stream of magic enveloped it. Though only I could see it.
It stared directly in our direction with its white murky eyes. As it did, this once squealing mutant of a boar let out a growl. A disgusting sound of gurgling flesh.
Dark magic was at work. It reeked from its body, leaking out of its wounds and skin. It mingled with the natural magic that permeated the forest, corrupting it and turning it dark. The fact I couldn't sense it until the boar undertook its vile transformation worried me. The forest around us was clean, untainted. There were no traces, not even faint trails of dark magic within kilometers in all directions.
Yet there was no mistaking what we were witnessing. It was necromancy, one of the most shameful dark magics a magician could practice and wield. Only the delusional, the maniacal, and the terrible could master its power and use it for their own, horrendous ends.
It was the only magic I dared not practice, even in my times of desperation. I knew how it worked, how it defiled rather than return, corrupt rather than heal. It worked by imbuing dark magic directly into a corpse, most commonly the skeleton. The dead are then 'resurrected' by the dark magic, allowing the former deceased to move. But make no mistake, the dead are never brought back to life, not entirely, and not in the way that was normal. In reality, the bodies are hijacked by the dark magic, either by trapping the soul of the deceased, preventing it from passing on, or by infusing the body with a fake soul.
The former is easier to do than the latter. Unfortunately, this meant that necromancers, especially those newly drawn by its promise of controlling life and death, would enact massacres to test their ability. Eventually, the necromancer would lose themselves to the power. Assuming they haven't already.
Dark magic came in many forms, but this was the most disgusting of them all. It sickened me to no end.
Now a puppet of its power was standing before us, intent on spreading death. Whoever its master is, they are without a doubt a powerful necromancer to be able to command an undead minion this far away. I could sense the faint trail of their influence flowing from the west.
It seemed like I already had an adversary to worry about. I scoffed.
I will find this necromancer, and once I do, I will destroy them.
"Stand back." I said, sensing the immense unease of the brothers beside me. They looked at me in confusion as I stepped forward, shortsword firm in my hand.
"Mr. Viduri!" Gallant called, reaching out for my shoulder in an attempt to stop me. Valiant was about to pull me back before I raised a hand to reassure them
"This is beyond both of you." I said. And indeed it was. If any of them were killed by the malformed boar, then they would risk getting infected by the dark magic. If that happened, they would undoubtedly transform into undead beastkin.
Speaking of turning into undead, the offspring of the queen that spilled out during its transformation were rising from their bloody graves.
There were no angry snorts nor fearful squeals from these boars. They simply rose from the bloody ground, and stared.