--- Tolwin

When the village of Levya appeared in the distance, two days later, it became immediately clear that something was wrong.

The column of mercenaries entered the main path between the houses surrounded by a suspicious silence, the same that was commonly associated to death. No matter where Tolwin looked, he couldn't spot a single living being. Not only the people, even the animals inside their pens had disappeared without leaving any trace.

The necromancer and her lackeys must have visited this place yesterday or so. Yet, the cultists were nothing more than a handful while at least a hundred people lived here. Where are they?

While the soldiers scattered in search for survivors, the priest dismounted and started noticing signs of battle here and there. Traces of blackened blood, doors kicked down and evidence of stabbings in some beds.

These folks were attacked in their sleep. Still, our enemy would have needed many followers to do this kind of extermination. Something's off.

Guided by his experience as a paladin Tolwin went further into his investigation, until he finally found a definitive answer. The small graveyard of the village, which counted at least fifty tombs, was completely empty. Six abandoned shovels suggested that the corpses had been dug and reanimated to attack Levya less than two days before.

The only problem was the sheer number of desecrated graves. Even if the necromancer was carrying extra bodies around with her, the mercenaries were facing someone very powerful.

"Did you figure out something?" asked Roric, who was strolling around with him.

"Yes. Grandma and her pupil found these tombs, raised a bunch of undead and massacred the population overnight. They probably stole the bodies of their victims to use them in the future."

"Those monsters," commented the boy, clenching his fists in frustration. "The villagers were unarmed. They couldn't stand a chance against a horde of those monsters."

Tolwin nodded. He glanced at the empty holes in the ground, deep in thought.

My only question now is... How did they manage to control so many bodies at once? I think this settles it, the boy must already be fully trained, and strong too. To make matters worse, his master must be terrifying too.

"Stay on your guard in the days to come, Roric," stated the priest. "I've faced a couple of these wicked people in the past, but never before I witnessed such a degree of control over the dark arts. Our enemies are definitely very dangerous."

It wasn't like Tolwin wanted to scare his own apprentice, but letting him know was the sensible thing to do. He was scared too. Scared because he couldn't remember if he had ever heard mention of someone so powerful before.

Last time I visited an archive of the Order... No, it's been more than twenty years. Our opponents only started moving during the last few months. There's no way they can be connected to the heresy of the old days.

"Tolwin, can I ask you one thing?" said Roric.

"Go ahead."

"I've been thinking about what happened at Lord Stelvan's place, and there's a little detail that I kind of... Forgot to mention. The two cultists that were with Rickhart were... They were raised as well. One of them even stabbed himself to speed up the process."

The priest stood up, looking at him in the eye.

"There are foul people, who worship darkness thinking they will achieve a power greater than themselves. I already told you how their spirit becomes twisted, how their faith turns the Light into a frightening menace. The further you get from the brilliance of the Makers the more your mind decays, as well. That's why those cultists are so maniacal. The dark arts made them into servants who will follow their master's will without any question."

"But Rata told us that even Demios could suffer a similar fate. Without any ritual."

"If a place is tainted enough, yes."

Roric, with a worried look, asked, "If that's the case, in the event that we fight them, isn't there the risk that our own men might be raised against us right after they die?"

A shiver ran up Tolwin's spine. He already knew more than enough about that subject, about how much fear facing a necromancer could mean, and preferred to just avoid that subject for the moment. Still, the boy deserved an answer.

"Yes, I have little doubt that our enemy doesn't possess that kind of power. But we are going to challenge her nonetheless, if Lowan decides to."

"Even if it means that we would have to kill our companions? After they are already dead?"

"It's our duty, it seems," sighed the priest. "A cult like this is no easy opponent. There's no way to know if they have other corpses stored away in the forest, ready to be used in battle. We can only make an estimate and trust the commander."

Roric gulped. "So... They really keep the bodies with them?"

"Sustaining an undead takes a certain degree of spiritual energy," explained the man. "And dramatically accelerates the degree at which its flesh rots. Having a constant supply of corpses is very useful for a necromancer, and don't you even think that all those she carried away were dead. I told you about sacrifices, haven't I?"

"Sacrifices?"

"Human sacrifices," went on Tolwin. "That's where most of the power comes from. By killing and gathering the souls of their prisoners, dark arts users can fuel their magic. Should the need arise, even the followers will take their lives to keep the necromancer's spells up."

"They are truly... Frightening," said the young mercenary. "If only-"

"Come here, quickly! We found something?" yelled a voice.

Tolwin ran towards the others, who were all gathered around a well. From the looks on their faces, it was easy to figure out what its contents were. As much as he wanted to avoid it, the priest got closer and peeked inside.

Dozens of lifeless bodies lay stacked just a few meters below. Elders, children, and all those who were too weak or frail to be used as human cattle. The smell was nearly unbearable.

Makers help us. They even discard those they can't turn into a meat shield. Such cruelty truly makes my blood boil.

He turned away, disgusted. From that moment forward he began to keep the hammer under his robe, just to be sure.

***

--- Lowan

A couple of hours after entering Levya, Lowan gave some instructions. First things first, the corpses inside the well were recovered and buried. All those people had been gutted like animals and thrown in there without any trace of decency, so many of them had fractured limbs. Those who lay on the bottom, in particular, had their bodies completely twisted by the sheer weight of the others. Judging from their expressions, some were still alive after the fall.

The commander also ordered his scouts to find out where the cultists were headed. According to the many tracks, they had exited the village from the western side and walked directly into the forest, bringing a good number of hostages along.

"Getting through the trees with the wagons is impossible, sir," reported one of the mercenaries. "If we want to go on, we'll have to leave them here and recover them on the way back."

"I saw some stables earlier, find someone to help you and hide them there. Sadly, even the horses will have to stay. The only saddles we have are for the scouts."

"It will be done, commander."

"Tell the others to get ready, when you are finished," concluded Lowan. "We are going after the culprits. Their atrocities won't stay unpunished."

The man bowed and went his way. As he watched him disappearing towards the wagons, the commander was suddenly reminded of his last conversation with the young Demios.

How many of them will die in this battle? Something tells me that letting our enemy go might be the best choice. Is it fear, or reason? Still, what about all the people who were slaughtered here? What about my reputation of a coward? I can't let this slip...

Had he turned back, what would have been the point in accepting Aregat's offer? Lowan had decided that he wanted to help, and nothing could stop him anymore. He was a mercenary, and a mercenary like him never went back on a promise.

***

As the company proceeded in the forest, following a small trail, the commander realized to have vague memories about some ruins that lay deep into the woodlands.

Centuries before, when the Old Crown still existed, Guhrien sought independence to the point that a civil war had become unavoidable. There were tales of growing tension between the Duchy and the rest of the nation, of the inadequate response sent by the nobles and of extremely violent battles involving the rebels and the armies of the High King.

My father told me about it, when I was a kid... Brothers turning against brothers, men sent to raid the homes of their friends and family. It was chaos.

That conflict had been fought all over the western border of what was now called the Republic, but a couple of times Guhrien's forces managed to break in and strike some castles that were left close to undefended. One of them was Vonsar, which gave name to the surrounding forests. Built in a hollow a couple of miles ahead, it was barely mentioned in history books.

It should be a pile of rubble by now. The separatists destroyed it completely, if I recall correctly.

The mercenaries reached the ruins after a full day of walking and immediately sent the scouts in every direction to make sure that nobody was lurking around. While he knew that the place was deserted since the times of the civil war, in fact, the commander couldn't dismiss the feeling that the atmosphere was very upsetting. Under normal circumstances, he would have gladly avoided setting up camp in such a sinister clearing.

There were statues and columns among the remains of walls and buildings, evidence that the castle probably wasn't even a military structure at the moment of its fall.

It must have been intended for some kind of spiritual retirement. When it was attacked, its dwellers weren't more ready than the folks in Levya. Yet, I thought the necromancer was using this place as a hideout. Why leading a column of prisoners into these woods, if there isn't even a place to lock them up?

The sun set, and everyone could finally breathe some fresh air. It was still summer, so marching around was extremely tiring for the men. They deserved their well earned rest before the battle to come, and Lowan himself was starting to feel exhausted. He sat on the ruins of an ancient stairway, watching the start while the rest of his mercenaries relaxed in the camp.

I can't even tell when I last slept in a real bed. Am I really getting too old for this?

He remembered how shocking seeing his own image inside the mirror had been. As a commander he had gone through many adventures, and some of them had left their sign more than others. In his heart, however, Lowan knew that the reason why he was tired like that was different. What he couldn't stand anymore was seeing the same dreadful things happening over and over. Mutilated people amassed in piles, his own companions dead on the field, the faces of the defeated enemies when they lay motionless after the battle.

All he had ever wanted, all those years, was making good. He had always been supportive towards the poor people, shielding them from danger and helping the weak whenever it was possible. His company wouldn't have been on the trail of a dangerous necromancer if he had simply sought for money like many other mercenaries.

"The sky looks so beautiful tonight," he murmured to himself, glancing upwards. "After we solve this incident, I'll really have to think about the future."

He and his men had wandered aimlessly for so long, so much that it felt like they had all lost their way. It was like their purpose was fading, just like the stars that were getting harder and harder to-

Fog. Fog? In this season?

Lowan stood up all of a sudden, startled by the sudden change of weather. A foggy climate wasn't really weird in that region, except that it was summer.

"Someone is coming!" yelled one of the guards. "A single person, on horseback!"

From where he was, a couple of meters above, the commander gazed in the direction that the man was pointing at. There, between that haze that seemed so unnatural, stood a rider. Between the cloak and the distance it was impossible to guess who that figure belonged to, but one thing was sure. He was watching them.

They are here.

Gulping, Lowan rushed down the ruined stairs.