A warm breeze blew, carrying with it a nostalgic scent. It felt soothing to the young lady’s skin as it embraced her like the arms of a parent. Her heart began to race.

“Give yourself to me,” came the deep, familiar voice. While it was calm, there was the usual undercurrent of violence lurking just beneath the surface.

She found herself on a bare stone floor. She looked around frantically. This was the first time the voice had been so demanding, but it was completely dark around her, except for a halo of light coming from somewhere overhead that illuminated only her immediate surroundings.

“Are you ready?” the voice demanded. It seemed to come from all directions and echoed in her head.

“No!” she shouted into the darkness, “I give myself to no one!”

Blue flame erupted all around her, revealing a young man she knew well. His boyish face was contorted in terror as the flames engulfed him.

“Cling not to those of the mortal realm,” the voice commanded. The floor shook as the words rang out, “yours is a higher calling!”

“Stay away from John!” she shrieked.

The young lady felt a firm arm on her shoulder and opened her eyes to see a familiar face looking at her with concern.

“Nightmares again?” he asked.

Sarah Wycombe nodded. Her face was bathed in sweat, and she felt completely disoriented.

“Was I in it again?” the young man asked.

Sarah nodded again and looked up at him. “I’m scared, John,” she could feel her lips tremble as she spoke, “the dreams are coming more frequently... and feeling more real…”

John Stadley raised his hand indicating for her to be quiet as he looked around. Sarah did the same and saw the stocky frame of Girmald sitting with his back against a tree. He seemed to be asleep, but she knew that John didn’t trust the dwarf.

The shadows were long around them and she knew it would be night soon. Feeling better upon seeing her childhood friend, she stretched her arms and asked, “where are Stanley and Tom?”

“Scouting the area,” John replied, “we’d better get ready. It will be dark soon.”

Sarah got to her feet and busied herself ensuring that she had everything she needed, happy to be distracted from the nightmare. John had his hands on his hips as he looked at the forest around them.

“What is it?” she asked.

“This place reminds me of Golton,” John replied, “how long has it been since we’ve been home?”

Sarah smiled impishly. “Homesick already, are we?”

“Nothing of the sort,” John huffed crossly, “I’m just saying we’ve not been back for a while.”

“You were the one who was insistent on not returning until we made a name for ourselves,” Sarah pointed out jovially. She and John had grown up on the same street and had been friends since they could walk. She always found it easy to be her bubbly self around him, and he made it easy to ignore the nightmares that had been dogging her lately.

The bushes to their left rustled and moments later, a thin man emerged. He sported a nasty scar that ran from just below his right eye down to his chin. His eyes were sharp as he assessed his surroundings, and satisfied it was safe, he relaxed his grip on his bow.

“You could wake the dead with the racket you make, Stanley,” Grimald groused before yawning broadly, “are you sure you’ve not alerted the entire village of our presence?”

“I just wanted to make sure you knew I was coming,” the man retorted good-naturedly. He paused and looked pointedly at Sarah and John before adding, “wouldn’t want to walk in on anything embarrassing.”

John’s face went red, and he spluttered, “we’re not like that.”

“Then I pretended to be asleep for nothing,” Grimald said sourly as he stroked his luxuriant black beard, “you need stones, lad, or she’s going to go find someone else.”

“Now now, let’s not have that filthy talk in front of the children.”

Sarah jumped as a halfling appeared seemingly out of thin air beside her. “What did I tell you about sneaking up on people, Tom?” she gasped.

“Well, our friend here was complaining about how loud we are,” Tom said with a crooked grin, “I just thought I’d assure him that some of us are good at our craft.”

“So, did you find anything?” the dwarf asked.

Tom shook his head, and Sarah couldn’t help but feel disturbed at how much like a child he looked even though he was over three times her age.

“No sign of anyone,” the halfling frowned, “not even a sentry. It’s pretty eerie.”

“Though there were signs of a fight at the church,” Stanley remarked, “but we can’t be sure. We didn’t go into the village proper.”

Grimald raised an eyebrow. “That’s unusual. Are you sure you weren’t spotted?”

“He might have been,” Tom said, jerking his thumb at Stanley, “but I’m confident I wasn’t.”

“Could we just call it a day at that?” Sarah offered hopefully, “tell Roldo we searched, but couldn’t find anyone.”

Grimald, their leader, shook his head. “We’ve been paid to do a job and I intend to do it properly. We go in after dark and search the place.”

“Why not go now?” John countered, “it’ll be easier to search when it’s still light out.”

“It’s too dangerous, you know that,” Grimald said, “we don’t know how many we’re up against.”

Grimald looked at Sarah, “that’s why we’ve brought her along.”

“Where do we start?” John asked.

“We didn’t go into the village itself,” Stanley replied, “so you’ll have to secure us a route to the church. We can start our search there.”

John nodded. “I can set off now. I can do better when there’s a bit of light.”

Grimald looked from Sarah to John and sighed, “fine, against my better judgement, we’ll set off now.”

Sarah’s heart thumped in her chest, but she was glad things were moving along. They had spent the previous night keeping watch on the edge of the village, on the lookout for any signs of life such as fires or lights in the window but had found none. Now was the time to be proactive. One way or another, they would discover the fate of the villagers tonight.

“I still think you’re being overly cautious,” Stanley groused as he took a bite from a haunch of cured meat, “no one’s heard from this village for weeks. Its inhabitants are probably dead, and the perpetrators are long gone. We could have gone in and confirmed that yesterday. We could be halfway back to Woodhop by now.”

“It’s not worth the risk,” Grimald sighed, “we do this properly and everyone goes home alive. What are you in such a hurry for, anyway?”

“He’s probably keen to get blackout drunk in the Dragon’s Rest,” Tom scoffed.

“I wish,” Stanley snorted, “this job is barely paying enough to get me tipsy.”

“You can’t drink when you’re dead,” Grimald pointed out, “and our employer wants us to find out what happened here. That’s why he put me in charge.”

“What does Roldo care about some village out in the sticks, anyway?” Stanley wondered before taking a swig from a skin. He then belched loudly, filling the air with the smell of hops.

“We could be in for a fight,” Grimald warned, “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t get drunk.”

Stanley held the skin up and made a face. “You can’t get drunk off this. Besides, isn’t a dwarf telling someone not to drink borderline sacrilegious?”

“Permission to set off, boss?” John asked. There was an edge to his voice and Sarah could tell he was nervous.

Grimald nodded. “The usual calls, eh?”

“Got it,” John replied and locked eyes with Sarah, “I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon,” she echoed and watched as he melted into the undergrowth.

“He’ll be fine,” Grimald said, seeing the worry on her face, “the boy knows how to take care of himself.”

“He hates being called a boy,” Sarah said absently, suddenly feeling very alone. This wasn’t the group’s first job together, but she didn’t feel comfortable around them when John wasn’t there.

Grimald stood in front of Sarah and looked her in the eye. “Listen, I hope it doesn’t come to it, but we’re relying on you to bail us out if this turns out to be more than we can handle.”

The dwarf paused and bored his eyes into Sarah’s. “We might need you to be on top form today. Can you handle it?”

Sarah nodded without hesitation. “You can count on me.”

“No sense in scaring the young lady,” Stanley remarked, “this isn’t my first tango, and my nose tells me we’re just wasting our time out here.”

“Oh if I had a shilling for every time you were wrong,” Tom sniggered.

“Do shut up, shorty,” Stanley snapped irritably as Sarah suppressed a smile.

“Everyone focus,” Grimald ordered, “we’re going to move to the edge of the village and get ready for our thief’s signal.”

Tom and Stanley turned serious. Grimald picked up his double-bladed axe and double checked its edge. Sarah felt her heart pound in her chest as she saw Stanley and Tom checking their knives. She didn’t know how they could be joking around one moment and become cold-blooded killers the next.

Grimald looked up at the others with an inquisitive look and received curt nods in response. He cocked his head and led the way into the undergrowth. It was mid-autumn, and the foliage was sparse, offering them little cover as they made their way through the forest. Sarah felt clumsy as twigs snapped and dried leaves rustled under her feet. She looked up and wondered how Stanley and Tom could make their way through the forest so silently. Grimald on the other hand, was making a grand old racket as he stomped carelessly along his way.

“Can you at least try to be stealthy?” Stanley asked irritably.

“Discretion isn’t really my strong suit,” Grimald laughed, “besides, I thought you and the halfling cleared the way to the village.”

“We have, but it doesn’t hurt to be cautious,” Tom pointed out.

“Fine, I’ll try to be quiet, but don’t expect much, eh?” Grimald sniffed good-naturedly.

Soon, the only sound they could hear was the jingle from his chainmail. Stanley shot the dwarf a look.

“What?” Grimald asked innocently, “would you rather have an unarmoured fighter?”

Stanley sighed and shook his head. Soon, the village came into view. The gillagebordered by the forest on two sides, and freshly ploughed fields and a river on the two others. In the heart of the village, the steeple of a church to Treto soared towards the heavens, dwarfing the surrounding buildings that looked to be in decent repair if not a little tired.

“It’s so quiet,” Sarah murmured as a chill went down her spine. John was right, the place did resemble their hometown and it was disconcerting to see it so devoid of life.

As they drew nearer, Sarah felt a familiar presence approach. “Stop,” she whispered.

Stanley brought them to halt and soon, John appeared in front of them. His face was as white as a sheet.

“They’re in the church,” he said. His voice was soft and distant.

“Who?” Grimald asked.

“The villagers,” John replied, “they’re dead but there’s no sign of their killers.”

“All of them?” Grimald asked incredulously. They had a sinking suspicion that this was the case since they arrived, but they couldn’t help but be horrified now that it was confirmed. An entire village dead, just like that.

“This village must have been home to hundreds,” Tom breathed, looking equally shocked.

“They are probably beyond our abilities to handle if they could massacre hundreds,” Stanley warned.

“They can’t all be in that church,” Sarah objected, “hundreds of bodies and enough people to kill them all?”

The church was by far the biggest building in the village, but it wasn’t that big. She also found it hard to visualize death on that scale.

“If I might repeat myself,” Stanley said loudly enough to make Sarah wince, “there are only five of us up against an enemy that has slaughtered hundreds. We should withdraw and report this to Roldo. If he wants us to return with an army, then let’s do that.”

Grimald frowned as he studied the church. At length, he shook his head. “We’re going in to take a look. Just to scout, not to fight.”

“Fine, then I’ll stay here,” Stanley declared, “I’ve no intention of throwing my life away.”

“We all go,” Grimald ordered, “or would you rather I told Roldo you weren’t cooperative on this little jaunt?”

Stanley scowled but held his tongue. He was professional enough not to argue when it was clear their leader’s mind was made up. Grimald studied the lanky man briefly before turning to John. “Lead the way.”

“There doesn’t appear to be anyone in the village itself,” John said as he led them out of the woods. The sun had all but disappeared, and they were navigating by twilight.

“This place would be pretty under different circumstances,” Sarah breathed as they made their way through deserted streets.

The only response she received was from Stanley, who put a finger to his lips. Soon, they arrived at the church. It was a rectangular building with a heavily sloped roof and two steeples. A pair of large wooden doors were ajar and large holes were hewn into them. Like with most towns and villages, the church probably doubled as a redoubt in the case of attack and the villagers had made their last stand here.

Sarah felt her knees go weak as she caught a glimpse of a child through the doors. He was sitting slumped over in a chair and she had initially thought he was asleep until she noticed his pallor. She then felt a hand squeeze her arm and looked up to see John looking at her with concern.

“I’m fine,” she said, drawing strength from his touch, “let’s press on.”

John nodded and on Grimald’s signal, approached the church with his daggers drawn. Stanley and Tom had drawn arrows but kept them loose in their hands. The tension was almost unbearable as they waited for John to complete a circuit around the church, peering in through the windows as he went along.

“It’s clear,” he said when he returned to them, “only the dead are in there.”

Grimald walked up to the door and nudged it open with his foot. It creaked as it swung open, and he stepped inside. John came next, followed by Stanley, then Tom and finally Sarah.

Inside, they were greeted by a surreal sight. Men and women sat motionless in pews facing an altar. Their hands were clasped together in prayer and their eyes shut. The only indication that they were dead was the colour of their skin and that they were completely still. A statue of a muscular bearded man holding a blazing sword aloft looked over them from the altar. He was Treto, the god of light, and his face displayed divine benevolence as he looked over his lifeless flock. Sarah looked at a man who had a terrified look on his face and wondered how he died. There were no obvious wounds on his body… They had seen their deaths coming, but mercifully, it looked to have been a quick and painless affair.

Stanley opened his mouth and was about to speak when Grimald held up a clenched fist, demanding silence. He then gestured at a trapdoor close to the altar. A rug that had concealed it had been tossed aside carelessly and the faint flicker of light could be seen from beyond.

Silently, the group made their way to the trapdoor. John and Stanley positioned themselves on either side of it while Grimald stood close by, ready to be the second one down if need be.

Stanley locked eyes with John and began counting down from three with his fingers after which he pulled the trapdoor open. An instant later, John dropped down. There was a soft thud as he landed, and Stanley peered in after him. Moments later, he nodded at Grimald, who descended next.

Sarah descended the rickety ladder next and found herself in a narrow corridor that had been dug out of the earth. The only light came from a candle that flickered further down the corridor. Her foot hit something as she tried to move to make way for Tom and she looked down to see a tusked face looking up at her lifelessly. The creature’s skin was green and there were a pair of stab wounds on its neck.

“Orcs,” she breathed.