“Well?” Tane asked.
Joelle opened her eyes and looked at him. He tensed.
“It feels safe,” she said. “The village is as deserted as it looks.”
There was no joy in her pronouncement. Tane had hoped, prayed, that someone would have survived, that his family would be there waiting for him. But it wasn’t to be.
Bracklin was dead.
“We should still be careful,” Quinn said. He looked up, gauging the time by the late afternoon light. With the thick cloud cover telling time was difficult. “I suggest we split up and comb the village for food and clothes, and be gone before nightfall. Half burnt down or not, a village will draw zombies in need of food and shelter for the night.”
Joelle’s magical probing had determined the village to be deserted, so Tane disregarded Quinn’s advice for caution. He walked out of the cover of the forest and woodenly walked down familiar streets toward his family home. He heard the others following quietly, but didn’t care.
More than half the buildings were burnt to the ground, with most of the others damaged in one way or another. No bodies littered the streets, though bones were scattered about, sending a chill down his spine. Rumor said that the starving zombies ate any dead they found, and occasionally killed their wounded for food.
Bracklin was large for a village, but Tane soon found himself approaching his home on the eastern side. It still stood, though most of the thatch roof was missing, burnt away. The front door was smashed in, covered in dried blood. There was a great deal of dried blood in the kitchen and his brother’s room.
“They put up a good fight,” Raven said.
He heard Quinn growl something to her, too quietly for him to make out. Raven stomped out in a huff, followed by the Vikon couple. Quinn continued to follow him from room to room.
Placing a comradely hand on Tane’s shoulder once they had checked all the rooms, Quinn said, “There wasn’t anything you could’ve done.”
“I should’ve been here.”
“You were where you needed to be.”
“I wasn’t where my family needed me,” Tane whispered.
“They may still be alive,” Quinn said. “Don’t give up, my friend. If they are alive, then they need you more than ever now. Only you can save them.”
“I’m not so sure,” he said, looking around his father’s work shop. It was the first time he remembered seeing the forge cold. “Everything seemed so clear before we arrived. Now I don’t know what to do.”
With a fatherly smile, Quinn said, “Do what we had planned all along. Change out of your uniform and put on some of your old clothes. Preferable something threadbare and dirty. We have to blend in, look like zombies in case we stumble upon any of them by accident.”
Tane nodded. The others had been against heading for Bracklin, it being out of their way. Everyone wanted to get to Caeren as quickly as possible, to end the reign of terror. But Tane remained adamant. He had to know his families’ fate, and he was the one person they absolutely couldn’t leave behind. So they grumbled and decided they would make the best of it by gathering civilian clothes in Bracklin to disguise themselves. If they looked like zombies, maybe they wouldn’t be challenged even though they were going the opposite direction as everyone else. Maybe not. Not even Joelle knew how much independent thought the zombies possessed.
But as Raven had said, “We’ll ford that river when we get to it.”
Suddenly Raven strutted into the shop, “Look at me! Gods, it feels good to be out of that damnable uniform.”
Quinn frowned. Tane thought she looked damned good, much like the night she was brought in. She wore a white shirt, black leather breeches, and black thigh boots. Tasheba was still strapped across her back, peeking out from under a crimson cloak, but he noted several more knives sheathed on a new belt around her waist.
“You look too good,” Quinn said.
“Thank you,” she said, beaming with pleasure.
“No, that’s bad. We have to look like zombies, and zombies look unkempt and dirty,” he said, starting to become flushed. “Haven’t you been paying attention to anything we discussed? You look like you’ve just walked out of a bathhouse.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “Zombies are a bunch of mindless dolts. No one will notice, and if they do, I’ll say that I was just captured.”
“That’s not the point, Raven. We don’t want any reason for anyone, zombie or not, to take notice of us,” he said. “For all we know, they have some way of telling each other apart, or can communicate with each other in ways only zombies can understand.”
“Oh, rot,” she said. “You worry too much.”
“And you don’t worry enough,” he shot back, “if at all.”
Seeing that Quinn was starting to grow angrier, and Raven more defiant, Tane decided it was a good time to go change out of his uniform.
“Are you going to change?” he heard Quinn ask her.
“No.”
Tane heard a yelp of surprise from Raven, then the sounds of scuffling feet. That was followed by the sound of someone hitting the ground. A flurry of blistering curses, from both Raven and Quinn, followed. Tane decided it best not to interrupt them.
His room was much like he left it. The clothes trunk was opened, with most of his clothes flung about as if someone had riffled through it looking for something. Stripping out of his gambeson and uniform, he picked out his oldest, drabbest clothes. Soon he wore brown trousers and his old hunting boots, with the gambeson over a white shirt and one of his father’s blue tunics covering the gambeson. He belted Bearclaw over the tunic. Over all of that he wore his old gray hunting cloak.
By the time he finished and returned to the street, Joelle and Armin were just walking up in their new clothes. Both had on worn leather pants stuffed into their army boots, dark shirts under jerkins, and woolen cloaks.
“Where’s Quinn and Raven?” Joelle said.
Tane cocked his head, listening. He couldn’t hear them, so he figured them off looking for more suitable clothes for Raven.
Before he could answer Joelle, Quinn came out of the work shop wearing a pair of Tane’s father’s torn pants and a horribly soiled and forge-burnt shirt. But what caught everyone’s attention was his black eye and bleeding nose.
“What happened to him?” Armin said.
“Raven,” Tane said, trying to hide a grin.
“Yes, Raven,” Quinn said with a wistful sigh, then returned Tane’s grin. “But I won.” Then turning around, he shouted, “Raven! Are you still sulking?”
“Sulking!” her outraged voice echoed out of the shop. “I’m not sulking, you overgrown goblin! I’m trying to decide how I’m going to kill you!”
She came around the corner, looking even worse than Quinn. Her face was scratched, and the knuckles on her right hand were bleeding. She still wore the same clothes, but now they were torn and filthy.
“What are you staring at?” Raven said, glaring murderously at Tane while she picked straw and leaves out of her hair.
“Oh, nothing,” Tane said, suppressing his need to chuckle. “I was just thinking that you are looking much better than Quinn, so I assume you won the...ah...argument.”
“Yes, I did,” she said, her eyes daring Quinn to challenge her claim.
Tane decided that discretion was called for, and promptly started walking south. The others fell into step behind him.
“How far away is Caeren?” Joelle asked as they reached the edge of the village and started down a shadowy track into the forests.
“I don’t know,” Tane said. “How far away are the Thanir Mountains?”
“Almost a month away by foot,” Quinn said. “Maybe two weeks if we really push ourselves.”
“And if Dakar started there, that means the whole trip will be through enemy territory,” Armin added.
“Yes, it’ll be a glorious adventure,” Raven said, with a faraway look. “I can already hear the ballads they’ll sing about me �
�� I mean, about us.”
Quinn leaned close to Tane and whispered, “If Raven has any say in it, we’ll be lucky to even be mentioned by name.”
“If we all live through this,” Tane said. “I don’t care who gets the credit.”
~**~**~
From his hiding place in the village stables, Nizar watched Tane lead the others into the forest. They were heading due south, straight toward Treversax and Dakar.
But they won’t make it that far, he thought. As soon as I can round up enough zombies, I’ll capture the lot of them. In less than a week I’ll be a High Priest.
With that thought, Nizar took to a parallel track through the forest. Since the failed attempt to capture the swordsmith, the half-elf had taken to backtracking to check for pursuit. Nizar was almost discovered twice.
With his magical tether to Tane’s gambeson, he could easily pace his prey from the safety of a parallel path and far back. The distance would permit him to assemble and train his zombies without worrying about making too much noise.
“No, you won’t escape me again,” Nizar said. “I won’t take any chances next time. You will all be my prisoners, or die.”
Of course, if he had his way, all of them except Tane Kyleson would be sacrificed to Dakar to celebrate his elevation to High Priest.
Chapter 48
“I had almost forgotten how heady such power could be,” Dakar muttered, smiling down at one thousand new priests and priestesses abasing themselves before Him. Then projecting His voice, “Arise, my children.”
One and all rose up to their knees, eyes rising to behold their terrible God. They filled the arena’s field, with the stands occupied by divine order with the entire population of free-minded citizens of Treversax. The newest members of Dakar’s priesthood were all citizens of Treversax, allowing Him to show everyone that He had indeed won the war, and the rewards for loyal service.
“My servants, my blessed children, through you I shall rule the entire world,” Dakar said, His voice now thundering. “I am supremely pleased this day. So, as reward for dedicating yourselves to My divine service, I permit each of you to pick two citizens as slaves.”
There was a collective gasp from the stands. Zombies and priests guarded the entrances, and patrolled the aisles, so no one made the mistake of attempting escape. The new priests, though, hadn’t been the least bit surprised, for they turned to gaze upon the stands with predatory eyes.
Dakar smiled.
“Yes. Power is heady, isn’t it?” He said. “Choose well, my children. The bully who had tormented your childhood can be yours to command. Or the would-be lover who spurned your heartfelt advances. You will have the power of life and death over whoever you choose.” He gave the stands a blistering look, “And if for any reason your slave should fail you, that slave will be sacrificed upon My altar and become your slave for all eternity.”
A great cheer rose up from the new priests. He smiled again. Humans were so excitable, so easy to control. So easy to please. So ignorant in their blind trust.
He made a dismissive gesture, starting to turn for the entrance, “Go now and choose. I give you tonight to enjoy yourselves, for tomorrow I have a task for you.”
Another, louder, cheer exploded from the assembled clerics. Immediately, He felt a thousand prayers leap at Him, asking for aid in finding this person or that one amid the chaos in the stands. He gave them what they wanted, for all the citizens of Treversax had pledged themselves to His temple and His worship. He knew that few of them were sincere, but that didn’t make any difference. Their faith, however sheathed in fear, fueled His divine power. And the fact they had pledged themselves allowed Him to know where they were, and what they were thinking at any time He felt compelled to find out.
Dakar dedicated a tiny portion of His mind to guiding the priests to their new slaves, then turned His attention to the developing situations all across the frontier of His newly conquered domain. Kestsax was His, with High Priest Mogens returning by horse. The Thanir would be back before Tane Kyleson arrived.
“Keep pushing them, Nizar,” He muttered, well pleased with how everything was developing. “And I will herd them into My trap. The swordsmith will be mine, and I shall wield his God-given talent, not Kamain. I will force him to create Swords of Power for Myself and My priesthood, and with them I will slaughter the Arisen!”
Chapter 49
Tane narrowed his eyes, trying to peer through the deep gloom of the forest. Quinn was out there, scouting out their route and the flanks. The half-elf had been gone most of the day. He should’ve already returned.
Raven, walking point some dozen paces ahead, raised a hand high, then made a fist. Everyone stopped and squatted low, all senses alert. Within five heartbeats they heard the steady shuffling sound of zombies passing to their far right. They were the closest so far, making Tane afraid even to breathe until they passed out of hearing to the north.
Before they could rise and continue, Quinn returned from the direction of the zombies. He was breathless and sweating, despite the gnawing cold that had descended upon the land.
Once Raven had joined them, they squatted in a circle and Quinn began drawing a map in the dirt.
“Due south of us is a river,” he whispered as he drew it. Then making a mark, he said, “We are here, about two days away.”
That stunned Tane. Two days! He hadn’t realized Quinn could move so fast, or so far, in comparison to the others. And Tane was thinking he was making good time. Quinn continued his report, regaining Tane’s attention.
“There are three ford sites I saw...here, here, and here. Zombies by the thousands are pouring across all of them and dispersing to head north,” Quinn said.
“How do you suggest we get across,” Armin asked, voicing everyone’s question. “Sneak across at the closest ford late at night? Even zombies have to sleep.”
That was true, and a pleasant discovery for them. Quinn had already discovered a dozen zombie camps during his long ranging patrols. They had even made use of one, when the zombies left with a fire still burning. That had been their only hot meal since escaping Kestsax six days back.
“That wouldn’t be advisable,” Quinn said, jabbing at one of the ford sites with his stick. “There are priests stationed at each of the fords, with strong contingents of zombie soldiers on both banks. And two of the fords...” He indicated the two furtherest to the left and right. “Have guards that give every indication of being free of arcane control.”
“Mercenaries?” Tane asked.
“That’s my guess. They have the look of veteran campaigners, too,” Quinn said. He then slashed across the river halfway between the two inner ford sites. “Here is a stretch of river that almost turns in on itself, with heavy woods for cover. The river is slow and deep here, so we can easily swim across by emptying our water bladders and filling them with air to keep us afloat.”
Tane studied the crude map a moment.
“The lack of a ford there seems to be a break for us,” Tane said. “It’s leaving a relatively wide zombie free area for us to pass unseen.”
“For now,” Raven said. “I’m willing to wager that we won’t be given that advantage on the other side.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect a trap,” Joelle said. “It’s too easy.”
“You’re right,” Quinn said. “But that would mean they know where we are, and where we are headed. Not likely.”
“He’s right. Not even a God can locate someone who isn’t a pledged devotee,” Raven said.
“What about that priest who attacked us?” Tane said. “If he’s still hounding our trail, then Dakar will know where he is, and therefore where we are.”
“I haven’t seen any sign of him since,” Quinn said. “Besides, I see no reason for Dakar to be interested in us. If He can’t find us magically, how could He divine what we, or you, represent?”
“The priest probably just stumbled onto us in the forest,” Joelle said. “I’m sure he
thinks we are heading north, to safety. For free-minded people to head straight into the belly of the beast would be insane.”
“Then we continue on as we are,” Tane said. His friends were all veterans, and he trusted their experience and instincts. Turning to Quinn, “Have you had a chance to scout the far side of the river?”
“No,” Quinn said, rubbing out the map and scattering dead leaves over the spot. “It’ll be about nightfall when we reach the river the day after tomorrow, giving us time to reconnoiter before deciding our next move.”
Standing, Quinn peered into the forest for a moment. Tane watched as he turned and cocked his head this way and that, silently marveling to see him using that legendary elven hearing he possessed. Tane was sure that if anyone was within a thousand paces Quinn would hear them.
“Keep to the trail I’ve marked for you,” Quinn said, heading north. “I’m going to check for pursuit, and then circle around again. I’ll meet you just before sunset to guide you into the site I’ve chosen for our camp. Be alert, for I’ve seen several large groups of zombies today.”
Chapter 50
Forty-two blank faces stared at Nizar from within the deepening gloom of the twilight forest. Most were Leltic warriors, clad in brilliantly hued clothes and scant armor. A few were Jarlander mercenaries, and one was a towering Tyrian warrior with graying brown hair and beard. All were well-armed by any standards. Those zombies without edged weapons had been sent on north.
“You have seen the faces of our enemies,” Nizar said. “I want them all alive, if possible. But it is imperative that none of them escape alive. Understood?”
They nodded. Nizar suppressed a grimace. He hated the zombie tendency toward silence. They would talk, if absolutely necessary, and asked a question that couldn’t be answered by nodding or gesturing. But he shouldn’t blame them, since it was Dakar’s will. Their Divine Master thought enchanted slaves should be seen and not heard.
“Excellent. They will be stopping for the night about now,” he continued. “We’ll give the elf another two hours to complete his final reconnoiter, then move in. This time they will not escape me.”
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