The Bodies

“This belonged to the others we heard screaming?” Quinten asked.

“I believe they may have been the men that Sorn reported to you two days ago.” Valasar nodded to the Halfling.

“What were they doing so close to us?” Han asked.

“Probably trying to make sure we don’t poach on their territory,” Quinten answered absently, rifling through the pouch. “Three men aren’t any serious threat to us, but maybe they would have been looking for ways to discourage from going further.”

“Probably bandits.” Heljah spat on the ground.

Quinten pulled out a single small scroll, a few battered copper coins, some herbs, and a small, rotund figurine in dragonstone- A fat merchant, the symbol of the god Kor-Anan. “They could have been woodsmen, seeking to defend their territory.”

“They had swords.” Sorn pointed out, “And some light armor. I doubt they were merely hunting.”

“Whoever they were, they’re dead now.” Quintens’ voice had a curious flat quality to it.

“What’s that coin- the larger one, with the half-compass?” Heljah suddenly grabbed the coin, holding it up to the light. “This is the mark of the-“ She stopped speaking, suddenly, glaring at Quinten.

Quinten shrugged, “It’s Aurum.” He glanced at the others in the party. “A band of thieves in high places.”

“We’ve had a run-in with them before.” Heljah was glaring at Quinten, but he returned the stare with one of his own. Sorn wondered at their reaction, but kept quiet.

“If those men Sorn saw were from the Aurum, then we’ve got a lot more competition for this little excursion than I had anticipated,” Quinten replied lightly. He stood up abruptly. “Let’s take a look at the bodies.” Quinten directed Kol and Han to the south side, down the steep path. He sent Valasar and Heljah to the east, where Valasar said the body was a little harder to discover. Sorn and Quinten took the west, the closest to the clearing. Nobody said anything, but the suddenness of the attack, the screams before hand, it was all a little unnerving.

The bright sunshine and birdsong were harsh counterpoint to the violence that had so recently occurred. Soren and Quinten moved quickly through the underbrush, skirting a few boulders and ledges, to where Valasar had indicated the third body to be, on top of a small rocky outcropping with a clear view of the clearing a hundred or so yards away.

It was clear the skeletons wraiths had done it. The flesh was scored and bruised with a brutal efficiency, and the horror on the man’s face was still evident. Rigor mortis was setting in. In the cool mountain air, the scene was all the more stark, the wet blood bright in the sun.

There was something strange about the body.

"This look like one of the bandits you mentioned earlier?" Quinten asked, squatting down and ignoring rank smell.

No stranger to the battlefield, Sorn also bent over the body. "Yes, but he was different before. He had on half-plate leather armor, Aruldusk cut, and carried a bow, arrows, and a sword." He touched a finger of the right hand. "See here, this man was clutching a pommel when he died."

"Where's the sword?" Quentin took a quick scan of the surrounding countryside. The treetops closed in around them, the clearing was the only open space to be seen.

"Check his hand." Soren picked up the limp member. "See how it is powdered white?" He gestured to other points on the body. "There and there, bruising from wearing armor, but again, all I see is that white powder."

"Like the skeletons. They turned to powder. But somehow I doubt they were working together.”

"I think I’ve seen this before.” Sorn wracked his memory. “It was a Karnathi Death-Spell. Anyone killed by the undead soldiers were raised by fell magic as more wraith-warriors.” He shivered. “Nasty stuff. Bet you wish you had that elf cleric with you now, instead of a half-bit lousy old scout like me.”

“Sorn, the attack was a magical- I doubt you could have predicted it. You had already spotted these men; you shouldn’t feel bad about the ambush.”

“Maybe.” Sorn tried to sound cheerful, but guilt gnawed at his gut. He should have been closer to the party; he should have seen this coming.

"The Thrane Inquisition is very diligent about rooting out old burial mounds," Quinten said. “That was one of their big issues with Karnath during the war- the use of undead. I wonder why this crypt, wherever it is, wasn’t found?”

"But what about this town we are going to. You said it was destroyed in the War."

"A Death-Curse? Massive enough to level an entire village in one go?"

"I've seen stranger things." Soren bent down. A strange tattoo had been sliced in half by a particularly nasty blow. "What's this?"

"Mark of the Aurum." Quinten said grimly. "So it was them." To himself he muttered, “Not going to like this.”

"You sound bitter." Soren looked up at his larger companion. There was something strange in his expression, but he couldn't quite figure out what it meant.

The half-elf was about to reply, but a shout from the direction of the twins made him turn. They jogged quickly to meet up with the others.

There was a little farm stead. It was gone to ruins, grown over by ivy, saplings shooting up in the back plot where a garden must have been. The stones were torn from one side of the building, but it mostly looked deserted. Chalk-white powder was everywhere on the ground.

“Look at this! I think we may be near the outskirts of the town.” Hal gestured them over.

“It looks like it’s been deserted for some time.” Kol remarked. “Since before the end of the War, even.

“Looks like you were right, Sorn.” Quinten gestured to the ground, where the powder lay. “The skeletons resting place. If this was part of the town, it makes sense that the death-curse would extend this far out.” In one part of the wall was a small hallow, a little shrine area. Quinten reached inside his pack, and pulled out the little statuette, replacing it in the alcove. It slid into place as if it had always been there.

The air around the little house shivered, and abruptly the chill in the air lifted. The sun beat down on their heads again, and brightness came back into the air. Somehow, the sudden brightness after the previous events was even more foreboding.

Kol was the first to break the silence. “Let’s head out.” He said.

Sorn whistled for his Soariel companion, worry nagging his bones. He should have been there to warn the band- as scout, it was his job to watch out for dangers like this. It didn't help that no one else blamed him. Death-spells were notoriously tricky to spot by mundane means, but still.

Sorn pushed his goggles down. It wouldn't happen again, not on his watch. There was a rocky cliff face near the abandoned cottage. Taking a running leap off the edge, Sorn spent a breathless three seconds in free fall before Tera was under him. Together they labored upward, to gain altitude, a grim new determination in their eyes.