High price

Kain finished cleaning his crossbow. He hadn't looked at the approaching figure of a horseman in a long time. He tossed aside the dirty rag and surveyed the results of his work with satisfaction. The wood was perfectly smooth, and every single metal part reflected the rays of the midday sun. His contemplation of the deadly weapon was interrupted by a shadow, obscuring the mercilessly blazing sun.

"What?" the soldier growled, lifting his head.

"I have the latest orders."

The young messenger, to adapt to the hellish conditions on the plain, was undressed from the waist up, his trouser legs rolled up above the knees, and on his feet, instead of high boots, the shafts of which now peeked out from the saddlebags, he wore light shoes. Even his cavalry cap had been replaced with a wide-brimmed hat, shading his face, with a sadly hanging feather, probably once colorful and giving the worn-out headgear a presentable character. Only the saber belt complied with the regulations.

The messenger dismounted and began furiously rummaging through his saddlebags. Finally, he pulled out a worn waterskin and took a long drink.

"Well, I'm listening!" Kain had never been a stickler for duty, but the messenger's casual demeanor irritated him slightly.

"Two days' journey north." The youth waved his hand toward the mountain range trembling in the thin air, and with the other wiped the water dripping down his chin. "There's a town called Temhun, where you are to go immediately.

" "Immediately?" Kain pulled a damp cloth from his head and wiped his face with it. "We've had an eight-day march. The sun only sets for the night; we saw the last cloud in the sky a good week ago. I don't even remember what rain looks like. We were heading southeast, where tomorrow we would be in the forests on Count Manfred Warvick's estate. We hoped to reach camp quickly under the shelter of the trees and rest there for at least a few days... Besides, look at my men!

The messenger looked around. Dozens of soldiers lay huddled under barely shaded cloaks and shirts, stretched over spears stuck in the ground. There was no sound of conversation, the only sound was the thunderous snoring. All equipment was thrown into one large heap, and the mules, freed from it, eagerly feasted on the remains of the yellowing grass on the stream bank. Besides the commander of the crossbowmen, only four guards were up. They sat on the outskirts of the small camp, each facing a different direction. It seemed the guards were asleep or suffering a stroke, and in the moment of attack, they wouldn't have time to reach the crossbows and swords lying nearby. Every now and then, however, one of them would get up and go to the stream to cool his sweaty body and soak his shirt, which he would throw over his head and shoulders.

"Well," the rider smiled. "Hurry is important, but in that case you can rest and set off in the evening.

" Kain smiled too, only ironically.

"You interpret command orders quite freely. I thought messengers were only for delivering messages.

" "Let's just say I have additional powers." After taking another sip of water, the messenger grimaced. He tipped the waterskin, shaking out the last drops. "There are five dozen of you here, right? I think four will be plenty, and the rest can be sent with the luggage to that camp of yours. You'll find out everything when you get there; all I know is that it's about some band of thugs who've gotten a little too bold lately. Temhun doesn't have a large garrison, so they're bringing in the army. You shouldn't have any problems there." The rider grabbed his horse by the bridle and lightly touched the brim of his hat with his other hand. "Time is pressing." I'll just take advantage of your wonderful river and then move on. Farewell!

The crossbowman didn't reply to the farewell.

* * *

After the messenger left, Kain went to the only proper tent in the camp and slipped inside. Both men occupying it were awake. The first resembled the crossbowman: a man in the prime of life with a tanned face covered with several days' stubble. The second differed from the two soldiers in every way – a slim, trim youth with an all-too-apparent softness and unused skin.

"So, was it worth going out into the heat? Did you learn anything interesting?" the older man asked.

Kain reached into a bag resting in a corner of the tent and pulled out a pipe and tobacco. He offered some to his companions, which only the older man accepted. The crossbowman lit up and, after two puffs, repeated his conversation with the messenger.

"What do you think, Bodvar?" he asked in conclusion.

"An order is an order, we'll have to go there, though I don't know why the city garrison can't handle it. Even if they're not very numerous, they should be able to defend a fortified city. I think we'll set off just after sunset at the earliest, preferably after midnight. March until sunrise, rest all day, and we should be at the foot of the mountains the next morning.

" "But orders say we should hurry," the youngest of the three men spoke for the first time.

"My dear Lambert, let the more experienced handle this...

" "I beg your pardon, Captain!" the young man raised his voice. "I'm in command here!"

"Calm down, young man," Kain continued calmly. "If you think anyone would let a fledgling command a unit, you're sorely mistaken. There are sixty men here, plus the two of us, and every one of them, without exception, is more suited to command than you. Half of them should have been promoted long ago. Noble birth doesn't make you superior.

" "How dare you!"

Lambert jumped up from his bed, but Kain immediately pulled him down with a swift movement. He lightly punched the young man's apple with his other hand, causing him to immediately stop screaming and struggling.

"Listen, kid, your job is to observe and learn. If no one told you this directly when giving you this assignment, it's only because we counted on your intelligence. But as you can see, even years of arduous study in monasteries and princely courts haven't helped. There's a stream outside; I suggest you calm down a bit."

Furious, Lambert, still clutching his throat, ran out of the tent.

"I hope you didn't hurt him. He's not a bad boy...

" "Sure, like any spoiled nobleman," Kain interrupted sarcastically. "Although... The elders said his father was like that at first too. But I'd be very surprised if this little one became even half as good a leader and warrior as he was. Not to mention the legendary great-great-grandfather for whom he's named.

" "We'll live and see, he has the makings..." Bodvar blew a few smoke rings. "Let's finish that wonderful tobacco you worked so hard to acquire and take a nap.

" "Okay, okay..." Kain laughed. "At least I was stealing something useful. What about the guards?

" "They'll manage. They'll see to the changes themselves; they're not recruits, after all. Besides, our young commander will surely remember that."

* * *

Two dozen soldiers, under the command of one of Bodvar's lieutenants, along with mules and loot, headed east to reach the camp through the edge of Warvickshire's Western Forest. The rest headed north, as ordered. Kain took all fifteen of his crossbowmen, while Bodvar selected one and a half dozen of the most experienced of his subordinates. Lambert grumbled that his captains were being too slow in their departure and, besides, underestimating the enemy, losing almost half their force. Meanwhile, the only problem the two commanders seemed to have was accurately tallying the loot and reminding the soldiers heading to the camp that they were responsible for it with their heads.

They marched all night, and the soldiers, freed from unnecessary burdens, moved quickly forward. At sunrise, they began to enter a region where the hot days no longer tore at nature so much. The grass grew taller and had a healthy color, and the stream had spread into a larger river. After another mile, they began to encounter single, massive trees, and finally, they set up camp in the shade of one.

The following night, because of the ever-higher grasses, increasingly interwoven with bushes and trees, they covered only a little further than before. Nevertheless, the short period of darkness and coolness at this time of year was enough to reach their destination. At dawn, the unit deployed beneath the city walls, and Lambert, accompanied by his captains, knocked on the gates of Temhun.

* * *

"As I said, even though it's a neighboring village, and one very important to us as a food supplier, and it's my duty to protect it, I simply can't," Mayor Rennar's plump face took on the mask of a beaten mongrel. "You can see for yourselves that this settlement barely deserves the name of town, even in terms of fortifications. I absolutely cannot let any of the dozen or so men capable of bearing arms out of here. Not even for a short trip to Goathorns. Because what if bandits pass by and attack Temhun? What?"

None of the three soldiers sitting at the table answered the question. Just as it was obvious that the mayor was not guided by any concern for the safety of his citizens, there was no doubt that Temhun was indeed a small town and would face considerable problems in the event of a larger attack. The earthen rampart topped with a palisade and a wooden gate did not provide as reliable a security as the walls and moat common in more civilized regions of the country.

"And that's exactly why they sent us here," Kain grumbled. "Just give us someone to lead us through the forest to that village. Although I don't understand why no one has made a proper road here yet...

" "Oh, but of course," the mayor gurgled. "Maybe some wine too?"

Both senior soldiers eagerly accepted the offer. Young Lambert declined and instead approached the window, which he had been gazing at for some time. The mayor's house was, aside from the temple, the tallest building in the city. The entire ground floor was occupied by a shop and warehouses—the mayor successfully combined his official office with his more profitable trade. On the first floor, the mayor entertained guests, both formally in his office and with feasts at a large table. The upper floor and the attic were likely occupied by bedrooms. The window Lambert stood by faced north, giving the young nobleman a magnificent view of the White Mountains. The mighty, jagged peaks high above melted into white, completely hidden from even the sharpest eyes. No one knew for sure if these were low-lying clouds, the ever-persistent fog, or simply snow and frost. That's why they were called the White Mountains, though every now and then someone used the words Misty, Snowy, or High, but everyone knew they were referring to the highest mountains in the country.

"I see, sir knight, you've taken a liking to our landscape," the mayor's wife chirped for the umpteenth time that evening. Slim, young, and well-groomed, she looked like something out of a fairy tale unlike her husband. Bodvar, with each mug, declared that she was becoming more and more beautiful.

"It's amazing that so close to the greatest wilderness in our country, through which we laboriously traversed, there are vast forests, rushing rivers, and fertile fields. And right next to them, those great snow-capped peaks.

" "We really don't complain about the harvest, and we have enough forests, although truly great forests must be sought east of here, in the counties of Warvick and Edain," the mayor muttered between bites of roast beef. "And the mountains? The White Mountains are one big illusion." In reality, they're a long way from here. Going north, you can wade for miles through forested hills like this one, then you'll enter higher mountains, covered with dwarf pine or bald. Sometimes you can get stuck in perpetual snow. But still, whenever you turn north, you'll always see the White Mountains before you, even larger, mightier, and more beautiful than the ones you've just climbed. I know something about this, because in my youth I went on truly long expeditions. Why! I even once took part in a special expedition sent by our gracious ruler to determine whether there was anything in the north besides mountains. And imagine, gentlemen, that...

"Yes, we have a truly unique landscape," the mayor's wife laughed, interrupting her husband. "But there are many other interesting things here as well."

Kain, clinking his glass with Bodvar, leaned toward him and whispered:

"Watch out for our young man, that tramp keeps making eyes at him. I'm leaving. Try to force the fat man to give you as much food and a knowledgeable guide as possible." He finished his wine and added loudly,

"Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, but I must now thank you for your hospitality and leave this very pleasant company. Duty calls, I must keep an eye on all the rabble that's gathered outside the city gate."

Everyone stood up to say goodbye. Bodvar resented his friend for leaving him alone in the unpleasant surroundings of the fat mayor, his family, and the alcohol-fueled, distinguished townspeople invited to the feast, who were too busy guzzling their free dinner to speak more than every half hour. Keep an eye on the rabble, that's all right, the soldier thought. Sometimes I have the impression that this rabble can cope better without us.

After a few more drinks to the local garrison commander, the unpleasant thoughts faded away, and worse still, Bodvar began to take a dangerous liking to the mayor's thinner daughter. Finally, he remembered why he'd stayed and began to talk about tomorrow's expedition. The mayor still looked sober, but the infantry captain nevertheless hoped the negotiations had gone well and that ample supplies would await them tomorrow. Later, returning to camp, led by his young commander, he wasn't so sure. Besides, he didn't care much anymore.

The

mayor proved to be a good trader, however, as Bodvar received nothing but a guide and a terrible headache. After recounting the terrifying disasters that had befallen the region, the mayor regretfully concluded that the city could offer the soldiers only the opportunity to fill their waterskins at the well and a single slaughtered pig.

They set off at dawn the next day. The forest wasn't particularly dense, and according to the guide, they should reach Kozi Horny in a few hours.

The man leading them turned out to be a hunter. While the surrounding villages were satisfying the city's hunger, Hurz was catering to the palates of the wealthier inhabitants, diversifying their monotonous diet with more exquisite meats. The powerful hunter, who, despite being in the prime of life, still looked a bit like a bear himself, also proved to be an unparalleled gossip. At one point, Bodvar headed in the opposite direction, under the pretext of checking the rearguard. From the start, Lambert had been lost in his own thoughts, oblivious to everything happening around him. Kain also tried to ignore the chatterbox, but, irritated by the story he was repeating over and over, was about to silence the hunter when he suddenly changed the subject.

"You must be good warriors, because not many of you come here.

" "What do you mean?"

"Well, there aren't many of you, light-armed men..." Suddenly the hunter slowed his pace, and a strange glint lit up in his eyes. "What do you actually know about these raids?"

"Not much, just that in the cemetery in a nearby village, graves have been dug up over the last few nights. Probably a group of thieves, because strange figures have also been seen in the forest, and small items have started disappearing from the village... At least from the mayor's words, it seemed trivial.

"There's more." The hunter stopped completely, his face, still amused by the repeated gossip, darkening.

Kain raised his hand high, halting the march.

"We'll make a short halt. "

The soldiers, though they hadn't marched long, eagerly retreated to the clearing they'd passed a few steps earlier and collapsed to the ground, wondering who was standing where.

"What happened?" Bodvar asked.

"I don't know yet. Keep an eye on them," the crossbowman replied. "We're slowly approaching our destination, and since we don't want any surprises, I'm going on a little reconnaissance with our guide."

A faint murmur from the resting soldiers answered him. Kain shrugged, nodded to Hurz, and they plunged into the forest. Bodvar watched them go for a long time.

Moving far enough away that no one in the camp could hear them, Kain stopped the hunter by grabbing his arm.

"When we're done talking, do you intend to carry out this reconnaissance?"

"We'll see, it depends on what you tell me, huntsman... Or rather, royal huntsman?"

Hurz looked down and hooked his thumbs into the wide, ornate belt on which he wore a long dagger and a pouch.

"How do you know, maybe I stole it?"

"Doubtful, few would dare parade around with a stolen belt, the kind the king himself gives to his favorites. I once saw one on his commander. Is the mayor that much of an idiot, or...

" "No, the mayor knows my story," Hurz interrupted. "But that's not what we were supposed to be talking about," he said, circling the area. "These areas are indeed the outskirts. Temhun is the last town north, and there are only a few villages further up in the mountains. Besides, the mayor probably boasted that he knew this area intimately, having often taken part in so-called 'expeditions.' In any case, news of robbers had been coming from other places before. First, from the highest villages—so it seems the bandits are coming down from the mountains. Initially, there was the plundering of their small cemeteries, though I have no idea why, as nothing valuable or useful could be found there. Later, there were thefts, and there were also rumors of people going missing. Recently, we found some dug-up graves in the cemetery near Kozi Rogi. This is where the townspeople bury their dead, not wanting a necropolis so close by.

" "Go on."

"The truth is, for several days now, Kozie Rogi has been the only village we've had contact with. None of the others have arrived in the city, and several of the men sent there haven't returned either. We couldn't do anything because, as you saw, Temhun has a small garrison, not even sure if it's enough to man all the city's defenses in the event of an attack.

" "So the situation is more serious than we were told. Instead of a few thugs, we might encounter an organized bandit.

" "Want to know what I think?" Hurz asked. "Remember that after the last rebellion by the nobles from the western marches, some of the peasants from the villages that supported them escaped pacification? I think it was them. They fled to the northeast, hid high in the forests, where they spent the winter licking their wounds, and now they're coming down from the mountains.

" "If so, we have a problem, although... the winter certainly thinned them out considerably. In any case, we won't be fleeing; we'll see what happens when we get there.

" Hurz shrugged.

"Do as you wish, you're in charge.

" "Not exactly..." Kain smiled. "But why didn't the mayor inform the army of the actual situation? They would certainly have sent a larger force; I myself only took half my men.

" "Lately, the large number of troops near the city walls has given mayors bad associations. Or perhaps your command decided that such a number was sufficient? How should I know... So what about this reconnaissance?"

Kain shook his head.

"We're going back."

They rested for another fifteen minutes, during which Kain discussed the situation with Bodvar and Lambert. After that time, they ordered their soldiers to get themselves in order, put on their chainmail shirts, and have their weapons ready. Grumbling at their commanders, each mounted a single bolt on their crossbow and set off.

* * *

The first house was right at the edge of the forest. In fact, the entire village was situated in a large, artificially cleared, spindly clearing at the bottom of a valley surrounded by green hills. For several hundred meters, along a north-south line, until another wall of trees, sparsely scattered houses stood. On either side stretched evenly plowed fields, again ending at the forest line. To the west, beyond the fields, gravestones could be seen against the trees.

When Lambert asked about the cemetery's large size, Hurz repeated that for several centuries it had been a shared necropolis for the entire town and several surrounding villages. However, he couldn't explain why it had been established in such a remote location.

The hunter couldn't explain why the village was abandoned either. No one else had any ideas, either. A thorough search yielded no results and confirmed the initial impression. There was no living soul in the entire valley. All the people and some of their belongings were gone. Only the heavier equipment and, surprisingly, some clothing and food remained.

The soldiers spent the rest of the day in their huts, sheltering from the sun. They chose those located inside, away from the edge of the forest. They had intended to spend the exceptionally warm night outside, but an unexpected rain extinguished the fire and drove them back inside. Except for the unfortunate few who had gotten soaked while on guard duty, everyone quickly fell asleep in the dry, solidly built huts. Even the loud rain pattering on the roofs didn't disturb them; in a matter of minutes, a summer drizzle turned into a fierce storm.

* * *

Kain was awakened by a loud crash. At first, he ignored the noise, mistaking it for the sound of a storm. After a moment, however, the sound repeated itself, then again, and again. The crossbowman was about to get up and investigate anyway, when another sound—a piercing human scream—shook him to his feet.

Already on his feet, the soldier grabbed his sword, instinctively realizing that the crossbow would be useless in the darkness of the night. Before he ran outside, he noticed Bodvar and Hurz were right behind him, also armed. Only Lambert was just rising from his bed, not fully awake and taking in the situation around him.

The storm was truly close. The sky, covered with menacing, black clouds, only occasionally allowing the faint glow of stars and moonlight to penetrate. Practically the only source of light came from the rapid succession of lightning bolts. The rain pouring down from above extinguished the torches and, creating a veritable wall of water, reduced visibility to a few meters.

The entire courtyard was already filled with soldiers. None were fully dressed, but all had weapons in hand. The entire unit turned north in unison, though it was difficult to discern the source of the shout. Kain pushed forward and was the first to reach the house, which housed several soldiers and which should have had a guard outside. However, the hut was empty.

After making sure it was relatively safe, they brought in new torches. In their flickering light, the absence of bodies was revealed, but the signs of a struggle were all too clear. All the walls were splattered with fresh, still-warm blood. A blessing in disguise was that, having taken the swords with which the attacked had defended themselves, the attackers had failed to notice the crossbows and quivers piled in a corner.

The soaked, silent soldiers returned to the center of the village, where, despite the pouring rain, they huddled in the largest square. Although no one spoke, silent reproach lurked in the many glances they cast at their commanders. After uttering a few standard lines about waiting until morning, not separating even when leaving for necessities, and being extra cautious, Bodvar ordered them to disperse. No one bothered to post a guard for the rest of the night. And so, no one slept a wink.

* * *

"...they simply surprised us." And since they didn't attack everyone, it means they aren't too numerous, Bodvar argued.

"I think we should go back," Kain was furious after losing five riflemen, and the soldiers murmured in support. "This whole order is one big misunderstanding. It's been bothering me from the start, starting with that messenger. Besides, the mayor was no better..."

Lambert, who had been silent until then, raised his head.

"But it was your idea to take only part of the unit," he drawled. "If you had let me decide, we would have set out immediately in full force. Right now, we wouldn't be sitting among empty huts, but would be warmly welcomed by villagers grateful for having been sent someone to protect them.

" "So tell us, chieftain," Kain smiled cynically. "What should we do now..."

The crossbowman didn't finish his sentence, as he was interrupted by a shout from one of the soldiers. Everyone immediately jumped to their feet, looking around.

The northern wall of the forest came alive. Dozens of figures emerged from between the trees. Almost all of them wore torn peasant shirts, but some gleamed with iron mail. Each carried a club, a scythe, or some other agricultural implement. Here and there, a sword blade glinted in the morning sun. Strangely, the entire attack took place in absolute, unnatural silence. The attackers moved at a leisurely pace, like disciplined soldiers, except they didn't march in even order. The silent assault meant the attackers were spotted very late, and many were already among the houses.

The trained soldiers quickly formed a defensive formation, even before their commanders could shout an order. In the front row knelt warriors with their spears raised, each with a crossbow resting on his shoulder, belonging to the archer kneeling behind him. Further along stood the remaining crossbowmen, and there, on the left, stood Kain. In front of him were Bodvar and Lambert, their swords drawn, and beside him was Hurz, who, having driven arrows from his quiver into the ground before him, was calmly finishing stringing his bow.

"Wait!" Kain's shout prevented the archers from wasting their bolts.

Only one person disobeyed the order, and the crossbowman felt the whistle of an arrow whizzing past his head. At the edge of the forest, one of the attackers fell to the ground. The mighty hunter, no longer a cheerful gossip, but a serious and determined, yet still calm, killer, was sending arrow after arrow among the enemies. Before the last one had even hit its mark, he was already pulling another from the ground and nocking it to the string. Kain was ready to swear that not a single one had missed.

"Now!" shouted the commander, also releasing a bolt.

The entire burst mowed down several of the closest attackers. But more were emerging from the forest, approaching the group of soldiers at their strangely slow pace.

Kain, like his subordinates, was nocking another bolt when he suddenly stopped and froze in surprise. One of the previously struck opponents was clumsily rising from the ground, trying to rip the blade from its embedded flesh. This wouldn't have been so shocking, perhaps, if it weren't for the fact that it was a bolt with white fletching—as the commander's arrows were marked—and Kain rarely missed, and now he was certain he'd hit the target squarely in the heart.

Struck by a sudden, terrifying thought, the crossbowman watched the advancing enemies, their slow, clumsy movements, their dull, expressionless faces, until he finally understood.

"The Undead!" he yelled. "The Undead have returned!

" "Peace!" he heard Hurz's booming voice beside him. Kain instinctively followed the next arrow the hunter had released, which finally found its mark in the neck of the mailed attacker. The crossbowman examined the face of the falling figure and was certain. They were being attacked by their own comrades and the villagers they had been too late to aid. Their faces, frozen in death grimaces, some already scarred by the wounds of decay, expressed no thought or emotion except one: hatred!

Kain awoke to the sound of Bodvar's resounding roar: "Retreat! We retreat!" Once again, the experience gained from countless battles paid off. Facing a monstrous, semi-mythical enemy, known only from tales of ancient times, the crossbowmen calmly unleashed a final volley of arrows and began to retreat resolutely, shielded by the long spears of the infantry.

"Stop! They've cut us off!" Bodvar shouted.

From the south of the village, hideous figures also began to emerge from the forest.

"They're coming from the east!" Hurz, shading his eyes with his hand, pointed with his bow toward the fields, where his sharp eyes had spotted small figures.

"Towards the cemetery. We'll try to get through there!" shouted Kain.

The entire unit, now disregarding formation, broke into a run across the fields. On both sides, more enemies emerged from the forest.

* * *

The cemetery was large. Alongside dozens of mounds marked with crosses stood larger marble tombstones, adorned with figures, belonging to wealthier townspeople. When they ran between the first tombstones, Kain halted the unit.

"Can you get us through the forest this way?" Hurz turned to the hunter.

Instead of answering, he grimaced and pointed. On the opposite side of the cemetery, the undead also appeared among the trees. The unit was surrounded.

"They have us," Kain whispered.

"We won't give up easily. With a bit of luck, we'll break through to the forest," Bodvar replied.

"I wonder how you imagine that," Kain growled, checking to see if his sword was coming freely from its scabbard. "There's no telling how many more of them are out there." Or maybe you haven't noticed yet that our arrows don't hit them?

"Are you afraid, Captain?" Young Lambert stood calmly nearby, watching the sun reflect off his precious, ornate sword. "You're seriously lacking in education. All the legends say the undead will attack regardless of wounds; even after losing limbs, they'll crawl back to strangle or bite you. Unless..." Here the nobleman made a significant movement with his sword. "His head will be cut off.

" "Ha! So let's not wait for them to come from behind, but deal with these here." Hurz threw down his bow and unhooked his mighty axe from his belt. "Follow me!" With a wild scream, he leaped between the tombstones toward the approaching corpses.

Seeing the hunter's courage even in a hopeless situation, the soldiers quickly followed. The archers also unleashed a final volley of bolts into the advancing crowd, and, discarding their crossbows with short swords in hand, they attacked the enemy.

Kain, initially stunned by the sudden courage or stupidity of his soldiers, eventually disposed of his crossbow himself and, sword raised, followed them. He hadn't taken a few steps when he suddenly tripped over something and fell to the ground. He tugged harder, trying to free his leg, which he thought was tangled in a root, but it was to no avail. Only now did he see what was holding him. A human hand protruding from the ground was clenched around Kain's ankle. A moment later, another shot out, raising a cloud of sand. And another, and another. All of them appeared nearby and instantly latched onto the body and clothing of the fallen soldier, immobilizing him completely. More undead rose from their graves.

Kain struggled in vain. The hands tightened ever more, strangling and clawing at the soldier's flesh. Suddenly, a shadow appeared right above the crossbowman.

"Help me, boy. Quick! Cut off these abominations."

Lambert wordlessly leaned over the captain and pulled a dagger from his belt. Kain watched with impatience and fear as the hands wrapped around him, waiting for the gleaming blade to free him. He didn't even have time to be surprised when the dagger plunged into his heart.

Bodvar

saw his friend fall, but noticing Lambert rushing to his aid, he averted his gaze and focused on what lay before him. He cut down the first dead man on the march. He knocked off the head of the next one almost by accident, with a roundhouse blow as he dodged hands emerging from the ground.

The graveyard came alive. Every moment, a swarm of hands emerged from the earth, knocking another soldier to the ground, strangling him, or tearing him to shreds. Here and there, entire bodies protruded from the ground, threatening with their rotten flesh. Time after time, another living corpse fell to the ground, cleaved by a sword blow, but several more quickly took its place. And others emerged from the forest and from under the ground.

Bodvar had already lost hope as he watched another soldier, unable to free his sword from a fallen opponent quickly enough, fall, overwhelmed by several undead attacking him. The fight that had begun moments ago was drawing to a close. The captain, growing increasingly weary, automatically deflected the club that had fallen on his head and, striking from below, cleaved the opponent. With a swift movement, he released his sword and, spinning around, beheaded the falling corpse. To the accompaniment of a hoarse cry, an axe whizzed past, felling another opponent. Hurz seemed not to even feel the scythe that had just sunk into his side. Without turning, he swung his arm back, knocking another undead several meters away with the ease of swatting flies. Bodvar dodged the blow, slashing blindly, then ran a few steps away. Strangely, there was no opponent within range of the sword, giving him a moment to catch his breath. He leaned heavily against the nearest tombstone and then saw... Or rather, he didn't see any of his comrades. Only the mighty hunter was still standing, surrounded by a ring of decaying, rotting bodies. From the corner of his eye, the soldier noticed a corpse charging from the side, Lambert's beautiful sword in its lifeless hand. The soldier gripped his sword tighter and, with a battle cry, threw himself into the thick of his final battle.

* * *

The two men, mounted on horses, had been observing the battle raging far below for some time. They saw the attack on the village, the escape across the fields, and the slaughter in the cemetery.

"As we feared, evil has returned," the young man stated without a trace of emotion, adjusting a feather that had fallen from his old hat. "Why didn't the mages realize that what was causing their anxiety and disturbing the balance was the return of the undead? Someone must be guiding them; you haven't sensed any necromancer?

" "Even mages aren't infallible or omniscient, sire." But they weren't the ones responsible for the murder of those soldiers...

The young man spurred his horse and wordlessly began to ride down the hill.

"Did he really have to see it with his own eyes to believe that evil lurked in the mountains? We paid too high a price..." the old man added quietly, and, pulling his hood over his head, he followed his companion.

He no longer noticed the dark-robed figure emerging from the forest, calmly entering the cemetery, occupied unanimously by both the living and the still-dead. The face, invisible beneath the large, deep hood, looked toward the hill from which the two riders had just descended.