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  In an attempt to calm Ross, she rested her hand on his shoulder, “Don’t waste your energy, Ross. We need to know as much as possible.”

  The deputy and Laurence shuffled uncomfortably as Ross’ words drip venom, and he pulled away from Halena, “You don’t know the angry sleep I’ve endured! There are dead people in those forests and they wander without rest! Surely our numbers could put them down, aye? I killed five of ‘em since it started, so how do we keep losing men, Captain?”

  He growled at the two watchmen, “Other innocent people have died since me, haven’t they? How much do you know? Answer me!”

  Halena tried her best to console the panicking watchman, “Ross, no! Focus, please! Who was with you when you died?”

  The decaying man raged against her. In the commotion, the dead man strained to haul himself out of his casket and she pulled on his arm to keep him put. A shout whooped behind her and then a thud as something hit the ground. Ramsey drew his blade, cutting clean through his comrade’s neck. Halena gasped and scrambled a few paces back when Ross’ head rolled through the grass. The donated swine blood leaked over his dingy white shirt from the gruesome cross-section.

  The body flopped back into the casket with an ungraceful slouch. Hope drained from Halena’s face, a frown hanging on her lips. She looked up at Ramsey and Laurence, both trembling. Ramsey swallows, “I… I couldn’t take it anymore. Seeing Ross like that was just… it wasn’t right.”

  Laurence sighed and waved him along to follow, “I think we’ve seen enough. Let’s return to the barracks.”

  Halena watched the would-be soldiers depart, shaking her head at Laurence after he paused to look back at her, as if to apologize before leaving. He let the thought slide, however, and continued down the hill, leaving Halena and the mortician with their mess.

  II

  Autumn Hollows

  Halena lingered around the grave site, having sent the mortician off to leave her alone with her thoughts. Moonlight bathed the hill in the cold absence of lantern light that departed with the watchmen. The blood used for the ritual went dark, the metallic smell still rife in the air, but evoke that savage thirst it did not. Halena closed her eyes after looking at what was left of Ross’ broken body, scowling. She sighed in frustration, peeling through clues. No bite marks from the creatures he claimed to slay. An unknown agent ambushed him while he was distracted, using the darkness to their advantage.

  “Never so graceful…” A groan hissed, making Halena shake her head. Her eyes shot open and she looked over her shoulder to the source of the tired noise, realizing the voice was not in her head.

  “Ramsey… He’s always been a bush-tailed cat in the face of trouble.” The groan came again, and those milky eyes stared up at her from the grass.

  Walking over, she nudged her foot against the dismembered head so he could look up at her. Halena grimaced, “You’re… still alive after that?”

  The man forced a weak smile, “It must be potent magick, heh…”

  She snorted, his words strangely comforting, then crouched down so the man did not have to speak as loudly, “What killed you out there, Ross? How can I avenge your death?”

  “You’ve done me enough by giving me this chance. Save yourself the trouble and leave the night watch out of this. I can see they will only hold you back… Who could blame them? Most are just farmhands that couldn’t make it into the queen’s army.”

  He rasped, stopping for a moment to gather his thoughts, “They won’t admit it, but these… horrors came after another spook wandered in from the northwest counties. Reminds me of you, but less… put-together. Looked a mess, kept muttering to himself about schools, and wanted people to leave him alone. He disappeared into the fells to the north, with a few people occasionally making the trip to check on him, send supplies. Maybe those folks felt pity for him, being consumed by madness like that.”

  Halena’s lips pressed together, “Did you find any leads on where he went into the foothills?”

  Ross smirked, his yellowed, stained teeth glowing in the moonlight, “Only a handful of us knew the homesteads and hollows intimately, and we were gonna retake them…”

  His faded eyes drew up to Halena’s face, “My ma and pa… They were the first to be taken by those damned fiends, killed on the road while bringing the crop to market. Then the damage to the other homesteads only spreads from there. Bodies were found in the homes we were able to investigate, some were butchered. Go there and follow the backwoods paths through the northern hollows to my family’s old home. Maybe my brother was able to hold out long enough to weather the storm. We never made it that deep in with our patrols. By the queen’s name, I hope you find who wrought this curse upon us.”

  Halena nodded and gingerly lifted Ross’ head in her hands and walks back to his casket, “Thank you, Ross. I’ll do everything in my power to make Brighthall safe again.”

  She offered the man a sad smile and he granted the same in return. On the edge of sleep and fatigue, Ross’ face slowly grew slack after being placed back in the coffin. The warm thrum of magickal power from the spell evaporated, the blood losing its life-giving influence. To give the brave watchman one last shred of decency, Halena hefted the coffin lid up and fixed it over the casket. Looking out from the vantage of the cemetery hill, she found the distant east gate of Brighthall still burning with lamplight and noted the signs of movement from the guards posted near a makeshift palisade. Her eyes wound over a vague trail through the burg’s streets to the gate and sighed, “So, I’m not the only ‘spook’ to have come through here. Wonderful.”

  She pattered down the cold steps of the cemetery onto Brighthall’s streets and weaved her way toward the eastern gate with haste. Her breath grew labored as she hurried down the streets. Rolling her cloak over her knuckles, she wiped sweat from her brow and slowed her pace to catch her breath. The hiss of the voice in her head seared her brain.

  Tapped and drained from a fool’s errand. You should have left them for the woods hours ago. Our time to work is limited.

  The burn subsided as Halena glanced down at her trembling hands. She swore under her breath, “Damn it, took more out of me than I expected…”

  Her hands balled into fists and she opened her satchel to dig for her reserves. Another curse hissed from her lips, finding her rations of cheese and jerky used up. She bit her lip, “I can make it.”

  Yesss… I won’t let go of you that easily, frail flesh.

  Halena continued to the town gate, weaving around the hastily built palisades and passing underneath the stony arch of the portcullis. A watchman shouted at her, “Where d’ya think you’re goin’? The forest will kill ya!”

  She shouted over her shoulder to the guard, “The forest knows better!”

  Confused muttering echoed from the rampart and a final curse thrown at her as she disappeared into the hollows. As the dim light of Brighthall’s lamps faded away with her jaunt down the east road, the tranquility of the wilds and darkness of the night settled around her. What little moonlight pouring through the crooked trees was enough to light her path. Everything was quiet, the cruel storm between her ears gone for the moment, and the cool scent of the spruce bushes wafted on the wind. Halena kept her eye out for a path breaking to the north.

  The deeper into the hollows she went, the hair on the back of her neck bristled and her chest tightened. It was not the needles of her unseen traveler, but the sensation crackled through the air in a flash of lightning. Palpable dread. The crooked branches became cruel and malicious, making the comforting embrace of night daunting. The din of nocturnal fauna stalking the woods was absent, only distant pained sighs rolling through the underbrush. A deep breath, inhaled and let out steadily through the nose, then she uttered a practiced mantra, “Okay, Aunt Saris. I should never fear the forest, for I know in my heart the most terrifying thing in it is me.” She wilted with a shaky breath, “You never mentioned whether it was occupied by an equal.”

  Lifting her eyes
from the road’s stones, she spotted a gap in the timber, and gripped the strap of her satchel before cutting off the main road onto the dirt. The branches threatened to poke, prod, and snag at anyone that walked the path. Her pace slowed as she stepped over wild roots and fallen branches.

  “Tell me you feel it.” She asked the cold night around her, nobody there to answer.

  Delicious anguish… This power has woken many souls.

  “It’s like the pain I felt in Ross, except crying from so many souls. This isn’t good…” Halena swallowed, trying to mind her steps through the discomforting conversation.

  The power has been used recklessly by this would-be puppeteer, leaving its scent thick in its wake. Your dead man was right; it swells and writhes towards the north. Follow the path.

  She rubbed her forehead and pressed on, finally free from scratching branches. Her way was overgrown from disuse, but some splintered timbers fashioned into fence posts kept her on track. She stumbled off the path, uneven ground tripping her. A pair of depressions in the dirt, what appeared to be large boot prints, caused her footing to slip.

  “The watch has made it out this far.” Halena grumbled, turning to the clearing of the first farmhouse. The house was cold and dark, any sign of life inside long gone from its wooden bones. As she wandered closer to the house, glittering shards in the grass caught the moonlight, the windows were broken. She tried peering through the broken frames, but boards blocked her vision. A frustrated sigh groaned through her nose and she tried the door, its rough planks riddled with scratch marks. Smatterings of black stuck to the wood and she plucked a torn fingernail buried in the woodgrain. Her nose wrinkled in disgust, and the nail was discarded, reaching to test the door for a lock. Halena jerked on the iron handle, the door timbers rattling loudly, and stepped back, “Locked and abandoned.”

  Halena folded her arms over herself, rubbing them to fight off the night chill, and strolled across the fallow yard. She chewed on the inside of her lip, eyes down while lost in thought. Her devious shadow bubbled in the recesses of her brain.

  Waste, waste! You are so thick and blind. I hear your thoughts, trying to hold a candle in all this darkness.

  “A candle would aid in my search. We’re running low on time and I’m just as lost as the watchmen.” Halena sneered in response, panning her branded eyes over the remains of the path branching off from the property, “The residents packed up what they could and locked everything down before fleeing. Those unfortunate enough to hide out were likely killed.” She stepped over a fallen timber of broken fencing, ignoring the scolding growl from her thoughts.

  The watch is made of fools, and you are no fool. They filled your brains with noisy, noisy thoughts that confuse you from your task—silence them!

  Halena’s foot fell on a brittle stick, snapping it. Rustling in the brush whispered in the distance. She blinked, searching the dormant forest edge for movement, but saw nothing. The thundering in her skull roared, and she growled, “Engh… What is it you want?!”

  You must see with your beautiful eyes what stalks in the night’s mist. Allow me…

  Her body froze, eyes going wide and burning as shadowy fingers ran up her neck. A pair of powerful unseen hands seized her cranium and she shut her eyes to allow her traveler’s influence to sink in. She opened her eyes, her vision sharpened with a dark haze, and the moon’s silver bath of light gone. A thick mist crept around the trees and the sound of a heartbeat thumped against her eardrums. She looked to the timber, a red aura clinging to a tree trunk. A rotting claw dug into the rough bark and a half-hidden gaunt face stared intently at her, frightful and furtive. However, the pale eyes gazing back were empty and hungering. The creature was waiting, buying its time in the shadows. Panning her enchanted vision around, other red auras of shambling figures appeared between the trees, some prone and waiting for her in the brush. She sucked in a sharp, shuddering breath, fear welling up in her stomach.

  There is all the evidence you need. Now, run down your prey before these puppets do the same to us!

  Halena looked down the road into the depths of the hollow, an ominous glow pouring through the trees. The enchanted haze lifts, the auras fading away from the dark nooks of the woods and the dirt road reappeared. Halena panted in relief from her passenger’s cruel fingers, enduring the dull ache of needles dancing on the nape of her neck. She grabbed her knife at her hip, both hands clamped around the handle and struggling to keep them steady. She hustled down the road before the hiding dead wised up. Her foot jerked, snagging on an upended tree root, and she tumbled forward onto her hands with a yelp, “Augh!”

  She got to her knees, then her muscles seized in apprehension. A low, animalistic growl rattled behind her. The shimmering sheen of her knife blade caught her eye, just within reach, and she slowly extended her hand to retrieve it. The hoarse, dry breath behind her grew louder as shuffling footsteps inched closer. Rolling over, Halena was met with a lashing claw tearing into her dress and she thrust her knife up at snapping jaws of yellowed teeth. It sunk deep into the soft muscle beneath the jaw, the ghoul’s mouth clapping shut and the blade sizzling against its rotting flesh. She pushed her weight against the creature, muffled gurgles rumbling in its throat, until it slumped onto its back. The blackened blade was yanked out and she backed away. Her attacker writhed in pain on the ground, a wisp of smoke rising from the stab wound. Just behind her, the sounds of rustling in the bushes rose like an angered wasp nest.

  “Damn!” Halena growled, breaking into a sprint down the path, dim light in the distant windows of the next farm promising sanctuary. A snarl broke from the trees behind her, another desiccated attacker tumbling to the ground in a failed lunge. It scrambled to its hands and feet, taking animalistic bounds at Halena’s heels. She cried out in pain as the ragged claws cut into her right thigh. Twisting around, she swiped the silver blade at the corpse’s arm, cutting clean through rotten tendons. The decaying farmhand lurched with open jaws, its bite crunching down on her weapon’s flat. Summoning her willpower, she pressed her palm to its forehead, tapping the umbral magick coursing through the risen farmer. Tightening her grasp on the power, she yanked her hand back, pulling a vaporous stream of ink black essence from the monster’s head. It surged up her arm, the ghoul’s strength draining until it collapsed to the ground. Halena backed away, clenching her hand around the power and ran for the empty home.

  She hobbled her way up to the door with a hand pressed to the bleeding scratches on her thigh. The other risen corpses closed in, skulking around what remained of the wooden fence around the homestead. The door hitched, unable to open, and she threw her weight against the planks. It budged, yet resisted swinging open. Her teeth ground together and she pleaded, “Come on!”

  Another bang with her shoulder rattled the planks of the door, the noise exciting the stalkers and they made frantic bounds for the farmhouse. She pressed hard into the door with renewed strength and the door opened enough for her to slip inside. The door slammed shut, Halena pressing into it to keep it sealed. It bucked against her, rotten claws and hoarse growls of the dead threatening to break through. Halena lifted her bloodied hand from her thigh and drew a symbol on the wooden planks. The rusty smears faintly glowed and she planted her hand on top of it, the planks of the door shimmering with a fleeting light. She bit down on the knotted fear and desire to survive in her gut, channeling the power of those emotions into her magicked sigil. Dry groans and howls of protest echoed outside, the assault ceasing. Halena heaved a sigh, taking the moment to catch her breath.

  She stepped away from the door, the wood grain shimmering with her magick, “Let’s hope the ward discourages them from lingering.”

  Halena winced, the scratches on her thigh stinging, and rested her hand over it. She closed her eyes to focus on the smattering of blood staining her leg. The oozing flow slowed and sunk back into the lacerations as her magick worked. After a moment of concentration, her hand came off the scratches, drawing with it a small co
ngealed lump of browning blood and leaving behind a fresh scab on her leg. Halena flicked away the waste and wiped her hand clean on the back of her evergreen dress, then scanned her eyes around the interior of the farm house.

  It was musty and stagnant, the warmth of life gone. A familiar rotten scent wafted to her nostrils. Her foot nudged against something on the floor. She looked down and the source of the strange smell hit her, making her cover her mouth and nose with her cloak. The long legs of a man splayed out on the floor, the torso propped up against the door and slumped over, blocking the door’s range of motion. The body was withered, damp, and rigid, its abdomen torn out into a blackened mess on the floorboards. Halena groaned in disgust, watching the body with wary caution. None of the malignant energy she felt in the ghouls clung to the corpse and she stepped closer for inspection, “You weren’t so lucky, were you? Perhaps this is a better fate than being risen as one of those things.”

  She gave one last nudge of the body with her boot to be certain that it would not rise to greet her, then crouched beside the victim. Her fingers touched the black, stale blood staining the floor around the corpse, muttering, “What happened?”

  An ephemeral vibration trailed up her arm once she focused on the dormant blood. Echoes of what transpired whispered around Halena, bouncing off the rough timbers of the old home. She heard rumbling thunder in the distance, then an explosion of movement from her right through the blood stain. A cry followed the adrenaline rush and then strained struggle in the hall around her. Slowly, the echo faded, draining and falling as silent as the ichor on her fingertips. She rose and wandered deeper into the dark confines of the abandoned farmhouse, jaw set in nervous tension from the chilling reading. No signs of foreign entry were detectable in the darkness of the room, making her brow furrow, “I swear I saw a light in here…”