By the time that the group had neared the grey wall enough so that it could be seen before them, yet its extents could not, Jynge had recovered, for the most part. For some time, she shook and chattered on but said little, but still moved forward with some provocation by Troíde. When at last, they came close enough to behold the wall even through the mist, she had come to respond to her friend’s words, and even accepted a mouthful of water when offered.
Górin had slowly led the way amid the overgrown and broken pathways through the last pieces of farmland, keeping low and on the lookout. As they ascended the final rising slopes of the hill upon which the town stood, a great anxiety overcame him and he requested as little noise from the others as possible.
Kaðrosedd lay atop a small hill, a lone island in the otherwise relatively flat lands to the west that once held many farmed fields. It was the walls that struck his curiosity, more than anything. Built of tall wooden logs, sectioned with stone pillars, and rising high above them, they blocked out any view into the town once the group got close enough to see them through the fog. For a place so seldom traveled, except for by passing rangers, he did not expect them to have remained intact for all this time. For all that remained, the wood itself was horribly rotten and decayed. Still, Górin could not shake the feeling that such a thing should not have been the case. The town, as far as he was aware from what had been said in the notes, had long been abandoned. Only rare travelers of the Silver Hills made stop within its grounds, and that for only a brief time. He thought of what he had read and the maps he looked over. Unless there was some mistake, he had led them directly to where they meant to go.
“I do not like the feel of this place,” he said, moving his gaze from one foggy end of the wall to the other. As he narrowed his eyes to try unsuccessfully in getting a better view of what lay hidden by the thick mists, a feeling of distant presence came to him. It was as though, just as he looked out into the bleary haze, some unseen person looked out back at him. Yet it was not a feeling of looking at someone, but rather that someone was looking at him, outside of his view and hidden from his consciousness. He looked back at the others, who all waited for his direction. “Be on your guard,” he said quietly to his companions that stood just out of arm’s reach, “I feel something awf-” but he stopped himself before continuing his words. To have one companion speak in riddles and rambles was bad enough, but for the leader to join would be a heavy blow to the morale of everyone.
Giving a motion to maintain their furtive steps, he led the others southward along the wall. Only their footsteps sounded out, though to their great thanks the noise was suppressed well by the tall grass and the wall by which they circled. Some feared to breathe, lest that be the final noise which would alert an unseen assailant. No longer did only Jynge and Górin seem to feel the sensation of not being alone in the thick fog. Although neither Troíde, nor Dákk, nor Handor made any mention of it, the same fears began to take hold of them as well.
Veering close, they crept along in anticipation, occasionally stopping while Górin paused and listened, stricken by a feeling of some entity laying just ahead beyond the shroud of mist, but altogether keeping a steady pace. They had been walking for perhaps a quarter mile along a curve that veered heavily to the south and east before they had finally reached an opening of sorts in the wall.
To the great relief of the party, no gate or door barred their passage. Very little of the interior of the city could be seen from the doorstep, as hardly a hundred feet in, the mist was amassed to such a degree that it was like looking at milk poured into water. Though from what the group was near enough to behold from the gateway, they saw with some confusion that the buildings themselves were surprisingly intact, nearly as much as the guard wall. After giving a word for the others to remain at the entry for a few moments while he investigated, Górin crept slowly and silently through the gate and into the entryway.
Decayed and in the process of falling apart, perhaps, but a quick look at one of the houses gave little question as to the remaining stability. The closest building to him was a small and square structure, built of stone, and draped with moss. They could see little of the others in the area, but those they did were in similar states of disuse. Górin raised an eyebrow when he beheld this, for he could make little sense of the sight. He would have assumed that the wood would have shrunk to nothing and the stone would have crumbled in the time it would take for such a mold to grow. Putting the distasteful thought out of his mind, he scanned the area within, and turned back around to withdraw to the outside, where the others had been standing during his look into the city.
“We’ve made it thus far,” he grunted, giving each a nod, “I will not make any claim that I like the look of what lays ahead. Jynge, your business at at the highest point in the town, yes? In the remains of the castle’s courtyard?” The witch nodded.
“Very well, then,” Górin continued, “I was not expecting to find the town looking as it does now. I had been led to believe that only ruins remained, here. Therefore, I don’t know if the castle grounds are guarded by any interior walls, but probably. I pray that they aren’t barred. Will you need to gather your strength for a night as before?” He gave a strong effort to make his voice sound casual and curious, and to not show any kind of criticism or annoyance.
“Most likely,” Jynge said, then paused and looked away. “Yes, I think so.”
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Górin nodded. “Then our first order of work will be to find some place to hole up for the night. I doubt it will be difficult, though I personally would like some house we can bar from the inside. With that said, we do still have some light left, by the looks of it.” He turned to Jynge. “While that still remains, I would like some aid in keeping an eye out for the building to where I wish to go. If we can make it there, then perhaps that can be our place of refuge for the night.
At this, Jynge looked over at Górin and sighed. “I likely wouldn’t be able to do much tonight, anyway.”
“Is this the concern with the trespassers?” Handor asked. “I still don’t understand why it is that these are so unique that Gráðír would assign you to investigate.”
Górin looked back to the mists. He was loathe to explain the details to his companions, for now was not the time to fill their heads with unsettling news, though their spirits already did not have much farther to fall. That was not even to mention his own reluctance to think about the necromancer or whatever foul machinations were at play by wicked men.
“Stolen treasures,” he said at last. Jynge turned her head to him and narrowed her eyes. “Perhaps they may still be there,” he went on, “and I am to retrieve them.”
“Let us be onward then,” Jynge said dryly, “Lead the way, Górin. We shall consider our situation when we come to it.”
As before, Górin went ahead for a short while to scout a path, carefully keeping out of the open streets whenever it could be managed. The going was slow and dreadfully morose, but such a sacrifice was a welcome one if it meant one could remain comfortably out of sight should any pursuer look into the roads. Kaðrosedd was lined with paths in tangled, haphazard messes. While an annoyance for navigation alongside the vague description the notes provided, Górin did find the irrational layout slightly comforting. It was never difficult to find a crevice between two battered and decaying houses the group could hide within, for the twists and turns of the roads were so frequent that he could hardly go twenty or thirty paces without being met with a choice of direction. Although the severity of decay varied considerably among the buildings they passed, the majority remained upright and seemingly capable of habitation (albeit an uncomfortable one). Muck and decay had done a horrible number upon them. As they made their way through the town, Górin began to wonder at what could have come to the town that would affect it in such an odd way.
“Yes,” Jynge said when he brought up a possibility, “It’s not unheard of for strange fungal swarms to grow in remote places. I’ve not heard of anything such as this, but Veils or strange magics can leave their mark for quite a long time upon an area.”
At a time long ago, Kaðrosedd was a lively place, as safe as any other town built around a crossroads. Yet it, like so many others, had fallen to darkness and desolation as the plague made corpses of innumerable men. As the five travelers made their slow passage through the town, some markings of the final inhabitants could be seen beneath the years of rot and decay. Broken doors, stolen wheels, shattered pots. All manner of refuse and forgotten things were left behind in the sad old town. Perhaps if fate had been kinder, there might have been chance for a Stékkr to grow outside the town, yet alas, there was no mercy shared with Kaðrosedd.
Of the sites and locations that Górin had learned of from the collection of notes, he suspected some things more than others, but nonetheless, he could not help but feel as though something were simply wrong with the situation he had led them into. The hall where the previous visitors had found the unsettling discovery was not far into the town, but from the gateway, long looping routes were taken. If there were not the miasmal fog that limited his vision to perhaps twenty feet, and the oppressive gloom that hung over them, then he might have followed his own intuition and made a straight line. Yet he dared not risk his luck, for it had led him astray once, and to repeat it might mean disaster for them all.
As time went on, keeping to the path described in the maps while maintaining a quiet journey became more and more difficult for Górin. Even though they had been subject to the sensations of being watched from the moment they had first stepped into the town, it had steadily become quite difficult to ignore. No longer was it a strange feeling in the back of one’s mind, but now and then, a quiet shuffling sound could be heard by one of the members of the party. Suddenly stopping to quickly look behind, yet finding nothing except for grey mist, a quiet word would be said to the others, but there was no choice but to move onward. Sometimes it came from a place to their side, but mostly, it came from not far behind. Shuffling in one short movement and then another, like in the pattern of footsteps, though neither as heavy nor as rhythmic. Sometimes it went on for a while, but always as soon as the one who noticed looked back to spot the origin, the footsteps would cease.
Górin could not keep their pace steady. Every time he heard the noise, it seemed to be closer than it was before. In brief intervals, he would give the notes a quick scan before hurrying forward, careful to not let his companions lose sight of him. They were close to the hall, but he would not risk stowing the map to draw his blade. The others could handle a threat, but if they got lost, it would no longer matter if he too bore a sharp weapon. None dared risk going back to ambush or greet the creator of the footsteps, and none had any wish to remain in the open for any longer than was necessary. Górin moved as quickly as he could without making any noise, and the others attempted to do the same, though this was met with varying degrees of success.
Soon, the road they stepped upon opened up into a wide open ground, lined on either side with small houses. Górin shot a quick glance down at the words on the map. This courtyard had to be near the hall. They moved onward, and the footsteps followed, seemingly less than fifty feet behind. Their hands tightened upon the grips of their weapons.
The voice of Dákk suddenly broke through as he spoke out in a hissing whisper. “The fiend is upon us.”
“Then let us waste no more time,” Górin said openly, without bothering to lower his voice. If death is upon us, he thought, then let it fall while we fly away from its reach. He pointed forward at the faint hall that stood at the far end of the square, and the five quickened their pace, not daring to look back.